“You are determined to exclude me fromallyour jokes?”
“No, only some of them.”
“Have I not demonstrated my capacity for extracting information?”
“Yes, very well, but I am wise to your methods now.”
God, he wanted to kiss her. He wished his sister were not there, staring at them aghast as though they were hurling oaths at each other. Keeping his expression perfectly blank, he looked back to the disappearing carriage.
“You have no respect for me whatsoever, wife. I ought to have invited your aunt to stay.Sheis not so impervious to my charms.”
He vastly enjoyed Elizabeth’s surprise, by now of the firm opinion he must take his victories whenever he could with her.
“You know full well what diverted me!” she cried, laughing.
It was his turn to shrug. If he had noticed Mrs Gardiner’s discomposure, it was no great surprise her niece might have.
“Which is a shame,” she continued, “for Iwasthinking, had you got down on your knees, I might have been persuaded to tell you.”
Thus, she effortlessly reclaimed the victory and ran off gaily, leaving brotherandsister staring after her in astonishment—the former wondering how on earth he was to reassure the latter that his wife did not truly expect him to beg, despite that being precisely what he meant to do.
Scarisbrick
8thAugust
Dearest Jane,
I thank you for your letter and good wishes. You are too kind. We are indeed having a wonderful time. This year’s gathering is even better than last since the Countess of Paignton is among the party. Of course, you could not know her reputation for fun, so you must take my word that we are all having a lark. And my, my! Your sojourns about London seem to have kept you busy! I myself frequent the places you describe but rarely, but I am delighted to hear they pleased you so well.
Now, as to your reluctance to visit E, I entreat you not to refuse her invitation. Have I not counselled that a breach would be ill-advised? I say go, enjoy the many delights of P, and should E’s teasing and flirting prove no better, you may commiserate with me at your leisure.
Indeed, pray, write to me anyway with news of how she gets on, for I should be vastly comforted to know D does not regret his choice. Your mention of her struggles with her new role is a cause for great alarm in that regard. I can only hope the mistakes to which she alluded in her letter to you are neither too many nor too egregious. Mayhap when you visit, you might show her by your example how a woman ought to be sensible of her station?
I wish you a happy wedding trip and look forward with relish to your next letter.
Lady Ashby
OF REVELATIONS AND RESENTMENT
Friday 14 August 1812, Derbyshire
One monthof marriage had not diminished Elizabeth’s happiness in any way, nor had familiarity dampened her bliss. She still woke each morning as surprised as the last to find herself a woman married, still delighted every day in discovering more to love in her husband and still marvelled constantly at her new situation.
Much of what there was to marvel could be seen from her bedroom windows as she idled at her dressing table, quietly humming the tune she had been practising that afternoon and brushing her freshly washed hair. It was into this bubble of utopian contentment that Darcy stormed with a quantity of papers in his hand, an angry imprecation on his lips and a savage scowl upon his countenance.
“Of all the vexing, ill-timed mishaps!” He strode back and forth across the floor. “I never heard such a catalogue of poor excuses and incompetence! He ought to have put Ennings to the job in the first place. A leg will not mend before the harvest. Magnus will have to journey from Kympton! Blast it, Barnaby!”
“Fitzwilliam, is there some way in which I can help?”
“What? No.” He shook his head and continued pacing for a moment then whirled back to her. “I must postpone our trip tomorrow.”
This news brought Elizabeth nothing but relief. They had visited several local towns that week already and dined with neighbours twice, and she was exceedingly tired. A long, jostling carriage ride to Buxton had lost all its appeal. She opened her mouth to tell him she had no objection to the delay when he abruptly set off about the room again, fuming about the as-yet-unspecified calamity. Her third attempt to regain his attention silenced him at last.
“Fitzwilliam, what exactly has Mr Barnaby done?”
His countenance darkened further still, and his answer, when he gave it, took her by surprise, for it had naught to do with legs, harvests, or trips to Buxton. “He has asked me to be godfather to his new son.”
The cogs of her mind laboured to fathom why on earth that might have distressed him. Her heart squeezed when she comprehended the answer, but once again, before she had the chance to speak, he took to pacing and bemoaning Mr Barnaby’s ineptitude.
