"Mother told you not to call me Henri anymore. It lacks refinement. And it's a boy's name."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Henri. It just slipped out."
"You are such a child."
"Henri, Henri, Henri."
"Do be quiet," said Henrietta imperiously.
Belinda surged to her feet all thoughts of being endearing forgotten. "Make me."
I have sisters enough to know where such a statement leads.
"You might both call me Lizzy since we are all going to be great friends. Are we not?"
They both straightened. Henrietta's expression said I was still under review. Belinda's said, "I'm just here for pudding."
Henrietta apparently decided it was best to keep the doors of friendship open. "I call her Bel when I'm not calling her Pest. And you may call me Etta."
"Henri," whispered Belinda.
I was saved from having to halt a brawl by the sudden opening of the library doors. A feminine voice called out the sisters' names. They groaned in response.
A slight, black clad figure appeared from around a bookcase, looking fretful. The governess, no doubt. "There you are—oh, Mrs. Darcy! You must forgive the intrusion—these ladies are shirking their lessons. Come girls, time for French."
More groaning.
"So sorry they bothered you, ma'am," said the harried governess.
"They were no bother at all."
The girls raced off, presumably to the schoolroom though it was equally possible they were off to hide somewhere else.
"Come back," called the governess with great authority for such a tiny little thing.
"Take your leave of Mrs. Darcy properly," she commanded when they returned.
Begrudgingly they made their little curtsies. "It was so lovely to meet you, Cousin Will's new wife," added Henrietta with a smirk, clearly recalling my difficulties at introducing myself as Mrs. Darcy. They skipped away again. The governess let out a beleaguered sigh, dropped a curtsy of her own, then followed them off.
I settled back into my chair and opened my book. I had readA Sicilian Romancebefore, but it was worth rereading, especially if it was Henrietta's favorite. It would be nice to have someone to converse with even if she was only all of twelve years old, still suspicious of me, and possibly in love with my husband.
Oh, how my head ached! I closed the book once more. The words were wriggling about on the page.
I was glad to have met Henrietta and Belinda, however I was also glad I had no further social demands for the rest of the day. Almost as soon as this thought had crossed my mind, the butler appeared beside me. I examined the floor again. There really must be a trapdoor. It was the only explanation.
"Mr. and Mrs. James Darcy to see you, ma'am."
"Oh, of course," I said. I have no idea why I said, "Of course," as if I had been expecting Mr. and Mrs. James Darcy for ages. But I suppose an insouciant "Oh, of course" was much more appropriate than, "Who are they? Never mind, it doesn't matter. They can bloody well shove off regardless," which was on the tip of my tongue.
"Please show them to the drawing room. I will be along presently."
Five
4thDecember, 1811
Afternoon
I was attacked the moment I entered the drawing room. My assailant came from the edge of my vision a whirl of blazing hair and fine lace. She had me around the neck and was clinging most determinedly before I had time to react.
