Mrs Lanyon struggled with what to say. “Well, as I said, I do not know my own mind enough, and I should not raise his hopes. I have had lapses in judgment with him over the past year, and it ought not to happen again.”
“Lapses?” Elizabeth blushed as she realised her meaning. “And how far did these lapses tend?” she asked with a playful look. “You fluttered a fan in his direction?”
Mrs Lanyon smiled knowingly and shook her head. “A lapse as in the consequence of our every private interview leads to an increase in passion. Must I speak more plainly?”
“Oh no, I simply wanted to hear you admit it! You grinned at the memory of these passionate lapses after all.” Mrs Lanyon covered her red cheeks with her hands. In a more serious voice, Elizabeth added, “I hope you will not allow your first love to prevent you from finding a happiness that you richly deserve.”
“We have spoken enough about me,” she said primly, forcing herself back into composure. She clearly did not wish her affection forthe colonel to be universally known. “Have you had anylapsesyourself?”
“Me?” Elizabeth asked, surprised. “I am a proper maid; no lovers for me. I can boast a few stolen kisses from curiosity, but most of my embraces are chaste kisses from forfeits in games. In general, they convinced me I really ought to try harder to win.”
“You did not mind the forfeit during Kiss the Nun earlier this week.”
That felt so very long ago, but it was only four days. Elizabeth thought of the game and Darcy’s surprised expression when Mrs Lanyon agreed to be the grate. “It was clever of you to change places with me so Darcy would have to kiss me rather than you.”
Mrs Lanyon did not look embarrassed. “Is it so wrong for someone who was once very happy in love to wish to form her friends into a happy couple? It is clear that there is something between you and Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth refrained from making any similar remark about her new friend and Darcy’s cousin. “How did you know?” Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. “Even Jane could scarcely believe I had a reason to hope Mr Darcy might love me, let alone how much I want that to be true.”
“I knew for certain when we played the ribbon game on Monday.” At seeing her questioning stare, Mrs Lanyon said, “Whilst Mr Bingley distracted us, Mr Darcy answered to the type of man he wished for his sister, and you looked at him with absorbed attention.” Elizabeth remembered what he had said about an affectionate husband and an attentive father. “And he looked right at you. He wantedyouto know what manner of partner he would be.”
“I think,” Elizabeth said slowly, “that anyone fortunate enough to be Mr Darcy’s partner in life would have extraordinary sources of happiness attached to her situation.”
“I had at first thought yours was an instant attraction, but now I realise on both sides it is a stronger affection.” Mrs Lanyon leant forward in earnest. “It is a shame that this storm has occupied Mr Darcy’s attention, although I suppose you are not so selfish as to blame him for it.”
“Not at all. But I confess that the continuance of his preference feels more uncertain now than it did a few days ago.” The reservedness of Darcy’s manner towards her contradicted one moment what a more animated look had intimated in the preceding one.When will he ask me again?
“His mind is oppressed, that is all,” Mrs Lanyon said firmly.
“You are right that one must make allowances for all the trials he is facing.” With so much to occupy him, she wished there was something she could do or say to convince Darcy to take her into his confidence.
“He will come to the point before we must meet your sister in Scarborough.”
“Perhaps all we need is to convince Mr Darcy to play a parlour game and make certain that I lose? If I pay a kissing forfeit to him with enough enthusiasm, maybe he will make his intentions known.”
“And then you and he could have as many lapses in judgment as you wish!”
They both laughed, and Elizabeth kept secret her own curiosity and enthusiasm for committing such a lapse with Darcy. She had reason, of course, to believe that his admiration included a desire that matched her own. Despite every insulting word he had said during his proposal, Darcy had expressed how ardently he admired and loved her. To think on it now made her blood run hot and her body ache with wanting.
What remains is for him to make me those offers and commitments that would guarantee the right to satisfy the love and restless passion I feel for him that has been intensifying since I arrived at Pemberley.
Mrs Lanyon’s smile faded, and she set aside the miniature of her late husband and joined Elizabeth on the sofa. “Please forgive me if I have overstepped. I simply want you to be as deeply and as happily in love as I—as I once was, Miss Bennet.”
Rather than mention her equal hopes for her friend’s happiness with Colonel Fitzwilliam, she said, “My friends call me Lizzy.”
Mrs Lanyon looked surprised, and then bowed her head trying to hide a large smile. “Hester, if you please.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam first left Pemberley Saturday morning, they had a dismal ride of it to Lambton, for it drizzled the whole way. It was a brief and lighter rain than the previous storms, but it was still an annoyance. Darcy met with tenants in the public house to arrange buying corn to feed their livestock whilst Fitzwilliam oversaw the committee to get rid of all the refuse and broken wood. They had found a meadow for the fire, and once the wood was dried out, the fire would rage through the night.
Thank goodness Fitzwilliam is here; his efforts are self-sufficient, and reliable, and he does not complain about his boots being covered in mud.
“What were the final casualties?” Fitzwilliam asked as their horses walked back to Pemberley that afternoon.
“One hundred sheep, six cattle, and one horse were drowned,” Darcy recited. He sighed. “Now that most of the water has receded, it was discovered that in total three men, three women—four, if one counts Carew—and two children connected to Pemberley were drowned. Plus the bodies from Lambton’s graveyard that must be reinterred.”
The River Derwent bent very near to Lambton’s churchyard, and the second storm, with the heavy volume of water already in theground, had forced out of the earth and broke open several coffins. They too had been taken to the makeshift deadhouse until they could be identified and buried again.
