“Oh Arthur, I must have you call me Mrs Elizabeth while you are at Longbourn.”
Suzanne laughed. “Very well. Now—will you not introduce us to your family?”
Elizabeth acquiesced, presenting each member of the Bennet family who had not yet met their distinguished guests. Arthur’s ears reddened even more when Lydia was named; the girl curtsied and, for once, managed a kind smile instead of a fit of giggles.
When the introductions were complete, Elizabeth led Suzanne and Arthur into the house. Servants carried up the trunks, and the weary travellers were shown to their chambers to refresh themselves before tea.
“This is a lovely room.” Suzanne turned slowly, taking in the intricate floral paper-hangings, and the thick, well-woven rug. “So elegant—and yet so restful.”
Elizabeth seated herself at the dressing table. “I am pleased it meets with your satisfaction. Mama redecorated the guest chambers two years ago. Jane and I persuaded her to adopt more restrained taste rather than the gaudy schemes she once favoured.” Folding her hands in her lap, she sought to quell the curiosity stirring with her. Suzanne would share her mysterious news when she was ready.
A light of merriment played in Suzanne’s eyes. “You have not grown any better at hiding your thoughts. I can see you are bursting to know mymysterious tidings. Never fear—you shall not be kept in suspense. Only, I hope you will not despise me.” She lowered herself onto the bed, fingers clasped together. “I am to be married.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. Suzanne had not been shy in speaking against the married state. “Married? But…who? When?” “You said….”
“I said I would not marry unless it were for inclination,” Suzanne replied softly, completing the thought left unspoken. “It came on so gradually, I was in the middle before I knew I had begun. His name is Mr Henry Blythe; he owns the estate adjoining Westland. I never knew him when I was married; my husband made certain of that.”
A reflective warmth stole over her countenance. “Henry began calling occasionally. We first met while I was out riding. He treated me with such careful civility that I never suspected he knew aught of my past, yet he behaved as though I was a skittish colt. We became friends, and I warned him friendship was all I could offer. He agreed and continued to visit Arthur and me several times a week. We went on picnics and little excursions, and one day, as he mounted his horse to return home, I realised I did not wish him to go. That was when I knew I could not live without him.”
Elizabeth’s smile deepened with affection.Such a romantic tale, she thought. “Did you propose to him yourself?”
A flush touched Suzanne’s cheeks. “Well…I was obliged to! I had told him I desired no more than friendship.” Their laughter mingled in the room, and Suzanne put a hand to her cheek in playful embarrassment.
“I am very happy for you. I can tell you are content.” She hesitated. “How did you know he was not…like your first husband?”
Suzanne’s hand moved absently over the coverlet. “There are so many differences. Her tone softened. He does not devalue me—in truth, he is offended on my behalf whenever I disparage myself. I feel complete in his company. Never has he made me feel I ought to be grateful for his condescension or attention. Henry makes me feel…like aperson.”
Elizabeth studied her with gentle concern. “Has he ever been angry? What of disagreements?” She needed to understand how Suzanne had learned to trust once more.
“Aye, he has been angry,” Suzanne admitted, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Disagreements are inevitable. But he takes blame for his part, and we resolve matters calmly. At times, we must step away to recover our composure.” She grew more thoughtful. “Elizabeth, I cannot tell you how I knew it was different. The understanding came gradually. But I do not dread being with him. The thought of never parting with Henry fills me with joy.”
Though not wholly satisfied by her friend’s answer, Elizabeth’s smile was tender. “When is the happy day to be?”
“Before Twelfth Night. I had planned to stay at Longbourn until the end of December. I have no need of new wedding clothes. We shall marry in town, and I will visit the shops then.” A hint of wry humour touched her eyes. “My mother-in-law will be pleased to remain theonlyDowager Countess of Westland.”
“Does the lady reside at the estate?” Elizabeth asked.
“In the dower house.” Suzanne’s mouth twisted with distaste. “She followed us from town when we left. I am grateful my betrothed’s estate lies near the earldom. Arthur will be close enough to his inheritance to be raised there, yet we may still keep our distance. My mother-in-law can follow us if she chooses, but she will not be welcome at my husband’s house. Henry will ensure she will not discompose me.”
Elizabeth rose. “I am truly pleased for you, Suzanne. Rest now before tea.”
Suzanne stood swiftly and caught Elizabeth’s hand. “I once thought happiness and love were beyond my reach,” she said with feeling. “I wasvery wrong. Do not close your heart, dearest. Perhaps love awaits you as well.”
Mr Darcy’s image came unbidden to Elizabeth’s mind, and her cheeks coloured. With a quivering smile, she inclined her head and withdrew to the refuge of her own chamber.
Mrs Bennet considered it a singular honour to preside over tea for such distinguished guests as a dowager countess and an earl and acquitted herself with all the importance of one accustomed to receiving nobility. Elizabeth was quite amused.
Kitty and Lydia were permitted to join the family for the occasion. Arthur sat beside the two youngest Bennet sisters, endeavouring to appear important and, in Elizabeth’s opinion, rather older than his years. Elinor, too, came down from the nursery. Suzanne exclaimed over the girl, declaring her the very image of her mama, a remark that delighted Elinor, who beamed under such notice.
“Our dear granddaughter is the perfect addition to our family,” Mrs Bennet announced indulgently, pressing another biscuit into the little girl’s hand. “Such a precocious child—just like her mother.”
Elinor soon took an interest in Arthur, standing beside him and demanding his attention as he attempted to converse with Kitty and Lydia. The poor boy, surrounded by so many females, appeared quite overwhelmed. Lydia rescued him by proposing they take Elinor out for a walk. Thus, the younger party hastened to don their cloaks and shawls before venturing into the little wilderness.
“Arthur has grown so tall,” Elizabeth observed once the room had quieted. “He barely resembles the boy who collided with me in the park.”
“He favours his father in looks,” Suzanne replied, her tone betraying reluctance. “Sometimes the reminder of it pains me, and I must recall he is more like me in disposition. You are fortunate your daughter favours you in looks.”
“And I am grateful her temper is more like Jane’s.”
