“He is so very kind,” Kitty confided to Elizabeth later that evening when they had a moment of privacy. “And he listens when I speak. It is most gratifying to be treated like one’s thoughts have actual value.”
Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand, genuinely pleased to see Kitty forming connections beyond Lydia’s chaotic influence and developing into someone more thoughtful than her previous behaviour had suggested possible. The Colonel was steady and interested in Kitty’s observations about clothing and nature. If an attachment was forming between them, it seemed built on sounder foundation than Elizabeth might have hoped for her sometimes-flighty sister.
Meanwhile, Fitzwilliam continued what felt like courtship despite their married state. There were quiet conversations in the library about books they had both read, discovering shared opinions and pleasant disagreements in equal measure. Moments of unexpected humour arose, which developed into private jokes and shorthand only they understood.
“The Pemberton Protocol,” he had dubbed Lady Catherine’s tendency to interrupt any conversation she deemed frivolous, after she had descended upon their discussion of novels to lecture about more suitable reading material. Now a single glance between them when his aunt began such interruptions conveyed volumes of shared amusement.
“Matlock’s Mercy” had become their phrase for the Earl’s habit of extending stories far beyond their natural conclusion, his enthusiasm for historical detail overwhelming his awarenessof his audience’s waning attention. Fitzwilliam had only to murmur the phrase to make Elizabeth bite her lip against inappropriate laughter.
These small intimacies felt precious, but they also made her concealment weigh more easily.
She spent considerable time with Georgiana as well. They walked together through the gardens discussing everything from trivial matters to more significant concerns, sat together at needlework and shared confidences that created bonds of trust between them.
Only Lady Catherine remained distant. She maintained icy politeness towards Elizabeth, her disapproval evident in every clipped greeting and barely civil exchange. Elizabeth bore it with as much grace as she could muster, but the constant disapproval ate at her nonetheless.
The evening before the Bennets’ scheduled departure, she found herself alone with Georgiana in the library. The younger woman was quieter than usual, her gaze occasionally settling on Elizabeth in an assessing manner.
“My aunt troubles you,” Georgiana said finally, direct in the way she sometimes was when moved by strong feeling. “Lady Catherine, I mean. Her coldness towards you is evident to anyone who observes her behaviour. I am sorry you must endure such treatment.”
Elizabeth considered denying it, then decided on honesty. “I must admit her disapproval is difficult to bear at times. I wish I knew how to win her regard or at least reduce her active dislike.”
“You cannot win it quickly. That is not how my aunt behaves. But I promise you, she does warm to people eventually. It requires time and patience and demonstrating that you are precisely who you claim to be. All that matters is that your character remains sound despite whatever initial objections she might raise.”
“How much time?” Elizabeth attempted lightness. “Decades of sustained effort?”
“For me, it was years.” Georgiana smiled slightly as her expression held sympathy for Elizabeth’s predicament. “Though in fairness, I was a child when she began taking an interest in my upbringing. She frightened me initially, but gradually I came to understand that beneath her severity lies true concern for family, albeit expressed in the most uncomfortable ways possible.”
“That is reassuring. Somewhat.”
“She will come to value you, I think, once she recognises that you make Fitzwilliam happy. That is what ultimately concerns her most. She has very fixed ideas about how such happiness ought to be achieved.”
Elizabeth hoped that Georgiana was correct and that time would soften Lady Catherine’s hostility.
“Thank you for the reassurance,” she responded, her gratitude profound. “And for your friendship. It has meant a great deal to me these past weeks.”
“And yours to me. I am happy to have you as a sister by marriage. I enjoy seeing my brother happy, married to someone who chooses him at all times.”
The words should have brought comfort, but they succeeded in making Elizabeth feel worse. She was building relationships with her husband’s family whilst concealing actions that, if discovered, might undermine everything.
It made her feel like the worst wife in the world.
Chapter Twenty-three
Darcy
One week later
“You appear pleased with yourself,” Arthur observed, settling into the chair beside him with a brandy in hand. The entire family was gathered in the drawing room, the atmosphere lighter than it had been in some while. “I take it Elizabeth’s mood has improved? She is no longer distant? She does not appear to be.”
“No,” Darcy replied with a sly smile. “Perhaps it was merely the fact that she was so unaccustomed to being around my family which caused her to be distant. She has been far more personable of late. I suppose I am easily unsettled due to how quickly we were wed and jump at shadows, so to speak.”
“You are not usually so easily vexed, but I must say, I have also never seen you so attached to a woman before.”
Arthur’s gaze shifted to where Richard stood near the pianoforte, ostensibly turning pages for Georgiana as his attention remained fixed with transparent interest on Kitty Bennet. “Mrs Darcy is an excellent woman. You are fortunate to have found each other, however accidentally. I suspect yours may not be the only match to emerge from this Irish adventure.”
Darcy followed his cousin’s line of sight, observing what had become increasingly obvious to anyone paying attention over the past several days. Richard and Kitty had been increasingly inseparable, their attachment evident in the waythey sought each other’s company. Mrs Bennet certainly had noticed, her satisfaction radiating like heat from a fire whenever they occupied the same room.
The dinner bell sounded, drawing the company towards the dining room in a loose procession. Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, pleased when she took it with a smile.
