He sat up and shook his head—and immediately regretted it. “What are you doing here?”
“Cleaning.”
“Cleaning? What? Oh!”Blastit—the maid!
“Beggin’ your pardon, Mr Bingley, sir. I wouldn’t ’ave woken you, only I thought you’d taken ill. I think you’ve been ’ere all night.”
“Not at all, Liz—Eliz—Emily?—”
“Amelia.”
“Quite.” He ran a hand through his hair, mortified. “It is very good of you to be concerned.”
The maid blushed and bit her lip prettily. “’Tis very good o’ you not to be angry with me, sir.” She curtsied but then seemed to hesitate, regarding him with eyes that felt too familiar for comfort.
“Thank you,” he mumbled then dismissed her before confusion and his pounding head overwhelmed him. The moment the study door closed behind her, his forehead hit the desk. Elizabeth’s crayon-brown eyes stared up at him, one blue eyebrow quirked as though waiting for him to explain himself. He could not and, instead, surrendered once more to oblivion.
Friday 26 June 1812, London
At precisely seven o’clock on Friday evening, Darcy’s carriage arrived in Portman Square to collect Elizabeth and Georgiana. It then continued on to Mr and Mrs Gardiner’s establishment in Cheapside, whereupon the postillion promptly lost his way, having never once ventured into that part of the city. It was, therefore, somewhat later than anticipated that the party of four was delivered to Darcy House.
As their conveyance drew into the gated driveway, Elizabeth stole a glance at her aunt and uncle. They had yet to meet her intended or see her new London home, and she privately suspected their determined reasonableness on the subject of both to be a mote affected. She turned away to conceal a smile when Mrs Gardiner’s mouth dropped open, and Mr Gardiner pursed his lips in a silent whistle. She had no intention of becoming proud of her new situation, but there was some satisfaction to be had in astonishing her typically phlegmatic relatives.
Darcy met them himself at the door, expressing his relief to see them safely arrived. She introduced him to the Gardiners, whom he greeted with a humility she comprehended as being recompense for his previous censure. She was only grateful that he should know she had some relations for whom there was no need to blush. Divertingly, it could not besaid the reverse was true, for Mrs Gardiner had been in high colour since first setting eyes on Darcy. Not wishing to embarrass either of them, Elizabeth said nothing of it, though she could not help but triumph at having a husband for whom there was every need to blush.
“About time!” exclaimed an elderly lady almost before they set foot through the door of the parlour to which Darcy led them. “I was beginning to despair of having any conversation worth the while. Between Mr Darcy’s incessant brooding over your tardiness and Thirson’s incessant teasing over Mr Darcy’s broodiness, my evening thus far has been distinctly underwhelming.”
Darcy’s countenance darkened, and Georgiana was visibly shocked, but a close connection with Mrs Bennet inured one to brash behaviour, making Elizabeth and the Gardiners far more disposed to be diverted. All three of them laughed.
“May I introduce my grandmother, Mrs Tabitha Sinclair,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, seeming equally amused. “If I may, Darcy? Grandmother, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Pray, call me Lizzy,” Elizabeth offered.
“Call me anything you choose, dear, as long as you are sitting on my right,” she replied. “I am deaf as a post in that ear.”
Mr Gardiner chuckled, Darcy interceded to perform the remaining introductions, and Elizabeth drew a smile from Mrs Sinclair by choosing the seat on her left. That put her on the Colonel’s right, and she fixed him with a suspicious grin. “Thirson?”
“It is an abbreviation of Third Son,” Mrs Sinclair answered for him. “His eldest brother was christened ‘Albert,’ nicknamed ‘Alby’ within the year and styled ‘Ashby’ before his second birthday when his father was awarded the viscountcy. I resorted to numbering the rest of them.”
“You are the third son of three?” Elizabeth asked him.
He confirmed that he was and took some time sketching his eldest brother’s character and that of his ‘ghastly’ future sister, the soon-to-be Lady Ashby.
“And your second brother?”
“Was lost at sea.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon!” she exclaimed, mortified to have brought up such a painful subject, even though he was splaying his hands and smiling with the evident intent of reassuring her.
“He was fairly lost when he was on land,” said Mrs Sinclair. “Henever stood a chance on a boat. I always said he should have gone into the Church.”
Thus, the tone for the evening was set, and a vastly enjoyable evening it transpired to be. Darcy was as unreserved as Elizabeth had ever seen him in company. Despite having come to understand him better, to see him thus amazed her still. It may have been the glass of sherry in which she indulged after dinner, but she rather thought the warm feeling that suffused her as she watched him speaking with her uncle later that evening, was her falling further in love with him. He happened to look at her as she thought it, and the intensity of her affection made her suddenly breathless. She held his gaze and mouthed,I love you.His countenance barely moved, but she perfectly comprehended the sentiment behind the small, private smile he sent her.
“Do you? What a shame,” said Mrs Sinclair beside her.
“Pardon?”
“I may be deaf, but I can lip read as well as the next person. You just said you love him.”
