“Am I so transparent?” she replied, laughing. “But yes, he was. I did not understand that at first, of course, but once I did, I came to like it very well. He had a wonderful way of attending to my conversations that made it seem as though everything I said was the most important thing in the world. Even when what Isaid was designed to give him pain, which to my shame, it often was.”
Lady Tuppence held Elizabeth’s gaze for a few seconds before replying. “You are wholly forgiven for disappointing my cousin. It would have been cruel indeed to introduce him to someone so much in love with somebody else.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks redden, both in embarrassment that her affections should be on such naked display, and unease, for she knew very well that Lord Rutherford had remained disappointed for the grand total of about two minutes before his hopes were redirected towards Miss Darcy. “If he is as wonderful as you have made him sound, then I daresay he will not have to wait long before he meets somebody else. Whoever she is will have much to look forward to by your account.”
“Whoever she is will be treated like a queen, for Rutherford is the kindest, most generous man I know. If I were of a gentler disposition, I might marry him myself—I know our mothers would be delighted by the alliance—but I am simply not sweet enough for him. Happily, you and I may rest easy, for he has overcome both our rejections. When you did not turn up yesterday, he had the good fortune to meet a different young lady.”
Elizabeth managed to affect a reasonably convincing tone of surprise as she asked, “Oh?”
“Yes, and since I know your heart is steadfastly engaged elsewhere, I shall not scruple to tell you that he was exceedingly taken with her. He did not stop singing her praises all evening. That is why I am here actually. He arranged to meet her again today but has been called away on business. He asked me to pass on his regrets. She ought to be here at any moment, and I do not mind admitting that I am all anticipation to meet her.”
Elizabeth was now wholly satisfied that Sergeant Mulhall had been talking utter rubbish when he accused Lord Rutherford ofroguishness, and that she had wasted her whole morning and two shillings on a needless crusade. Abandoning her plans, she resolved to escape before Miss Darcy arrived. “Then I shall most happily leave you to it. I must find my aunt. Pray, accept my best wishes for your cousin’s happiness. Excuse me.”
“Wait.” Lady Tuppence reached into her reticule and withdrew a beautiful mother-of-pearl case, from which she took a calling card. She held it out to Elizabeth. “I like you. Call on me.”
Elizabeth took the card but privately dismissed all possibility of establishing a friendship with a woman whose cousin might one day marry Mr Darcy’s sister. Such a close connexion would be too painful to even contemplate.
“And a word of advice, Miss Bennet. Do not waste too much of your life pining. Take it from a woman in her fifth Season—it will achieve nothing but to make a good many things much harder than they need to be.”
It was difficult to know how to answer that, and Elizabeth settled for saying thank you, dipping a quick curtsey, and leaving.
“Did you speak to her?” Mrs Gardiner asked when Elizabeth found her.
“No, but I have changed my mind. You were right; this was a mistake. I should never have presumed to interfere.” She ushered her aunt towards the exit, praying Miss Darcy would not arrive before they could get out, for there were no pillars that she might lunge behind in this part of the building.
“I cannot say I am sorry to hear that,” Mrs Gardiner said. “I was not completely comfortable with the idea, as you know. But why the haste?”
“Because if I do not have to speak to her about Lord Rutherford, then I would rather not speak to her at all. I am sorry I wasted your morning, but pray, let us get out of thiswretched place before she arrives. If Ineverhave to come back it will be too soon!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“For the love of all that is holy!” Fitzwilliam muttered as he stormed back to the inn where his horse was tethered. It was obvious what had happened: Mulhall had delivered Darcy’s message to the wrong Miss Bennet. “‘Definitely her’my eye! Of all the stupid bloody mix ups!”
There was some vague similarity between the sisters, recognisable only once Fitzwilliam had comprehended the mistake, but that would have been immaterial to his batman, since Mulhall had not accompanied him to Rosings the previous Easter and therefore had never set eyes on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
That it was not her Mulhall had agreed to meet would be a relief to Darcy. Less so to Mulhall, who had been uncommonly vituperative upon hearing that his plans would be waylaid. The young woman, too, had seemed genuinely disappointed by the failed assignation, which was the reason Fitzwilliam had done what he could to rekindle the flirtation. He did not think Darcy would mind; considering the lengths to which he had gone to secure Miss Lydia Bennet’s welfare, Fitzwilliam was reasonably confident that his cousin would prefer thatthissister not be miserable either.
That was not the problem that concerned him.
Darcy’s sole object in giving the warning about Rutherford had been to keep Miss Bennet safe. It was not unreasonable to hope that warning had served its purpose—that she would know to stay away from the man—but no! Rather, it had persuaded her to thrust herself directly into the blackguard’s path in the pursuit of some other woman’s safety.
Had it been up to him, Fitzwilliam would have left her to it. Not that he did not care for her wellbeing, but she was a woman grown, and what business she involved herself in was up to her. But he knew Darcy would be out of his head with guilt if he knew the consequences of his interference. There was no time to ride to Darcy House and inform his cousin of what was occurring at the exhibition, for her sister had said Miss Bennet was there now. Fitzwilliam could see no other solution than to ride there himself and at least try to ensure she was safe.
“What an absolute ruddy shambles!”
“Sir?”
Fitzwilliam had reached the inn—out of breath and sweaty—and his complaint put a frightened tremor in the stableboy’s voice. He reassured him with a sixpence and mounted his horse, setting out as fast as the busy streets would allow for the British Institution. He was positively roasting in his regimentals by the time he arrived. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat, and he was sure his face must resemble a baboon’s arse after his ride in full summer sun. Still, better that Miss Bennet think him unpresentable than Darcy rough him up permanently for leaving her to meet Rutherford alone.
Nodding to the odd familiar face, he wandered around the exhibition for ten minutes without seeing her. About to give it up as a lost cause, he performed one last turn of the upper rooms and chuckled when he noticed the two columns sticking up above the milling crowds at the far end of one of the rooms.One of them, he supposed, had provided Darcy’s hiding place when he saw Miss Bennet here on Monday. He walked closer, more and more diverted by the thought of his cousin cowering behind one, for they were not as large as Darcy had made out—and his cousin was not a small man. He must have been barely concealed.
Between the two columns was a couch, the sight of which stirred a memory of Miss Bennet’s sister mentioning that this was where Rutherford had arranged to meet his new paramour. And as happenstance would have it, upon the couch sat a lady, who at that very moment looked up and met his eye. Fitzwilliam’s dishevelment, which had moments before been nothing more than a nuisance, instantly became a catastrophe. Just his luck that he should look his worst when the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld was before him. Still, his scruffiness notwithstanding, if this was the woman Miss Bennet intended to save, he was more than happy to perform the rescue in her stead. He tried to smooth his damp hair into some semblance of order and tugged his jacket straight as he approached.
She watched him, unabashed, until he was standing directly in front of her. She did not look perturbed by his approach. Indeed, she did not look like the sort of woman who needed rescuing from anybody, but that was his excuse, and he was not about to abandon it. He bowed. She raised an eyebrow. He felt a twinge of excitement at her boldness.
“Madam, I beg you would excuse my forwardness. I recognise we have not been introduced, but I must ask—are you here for Lord Rutherford?”
He did not miss the flicker of surprise in her countenance as she replied, “In a manner of speaking.”
