“I am not made for sadness, Mr. Darcy. And we are both intelligent enough to understand that the more effort we put into our marriage, the more we each benefit from it. I am hopeful.” She turned to face him fully. “I willdo all I can to gain Lady Matlock’s approval. But even more, I will endeavor to earn your esteem, so that you never have cause to regret offering me this chance.”
In full view of the others across the room, Darcy caressed her cheek. Elizabeth leant into his touch.
“For now, I will promise that Iwilllove you, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she said. “Soon, I hope, it will change to “I do love you.”
His eyes darkened with emotion. “I already love you, Elizabeth Bennet, soon-to-be Elizabeth Darcy.”
“I cannot be falling behind you, sir. I am determined to catch up,” she teased.
He gently tugged on one of her curls. “When we are alone, or with family, you may call me Fitzwilliam, or William if you prefer, as my sister does.”
“William,” she whispered, as though testing the intimacy of it.
He kissed her hand and said, “Come, Elizabeth. We should join the others.”
The evening passed pleasantly. Colonel Fitzwilliam drew her out with skillful questions, Miss Darcy paid her rapt attention, and even Lord Matlock seemed to thaw as he saw the easy rapport between his nephew and Miss Bennet.
When the clock struck ten, Lady Matlock announced it was time to retire. Darcy escorted Elizabeth to the foot of the stairs.
“Thank you,” he said. “For being patient with my family. And for your promise.”
“They care about you. I cannot fault them for that. And my promise is freely given.”
He raised her hand to his lips. The tenderness of thegesture, the warmth of his breath against her skin, undid her in a way she had not anticipated—as though a wall of worry began to crumble. She had made her choice. And she would ensure that both she and Darcy benefited from it in every possible way.
“Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
“Goodnight, William.”
As she lay in bed, Elizabeth no longer tried to imagine herself as Mrs. Darcy. Instead, she accepted it as her inevitable future—one she would work toward with all her determination.
The following morning,Lady Matlock wasted no time on pleasantries, leading Elizabeth directly to a well-appointed study where leather-bound ledgers lined the shelves.
“These are the account books for Matlock House,” Lady Matlock said, opening the most recent volume. “A household of this size requires meticulous record-keeping. Every expenditure must be noted, every servant’s wage accounted for, every delivery verified against the bills.”
Elizabeth contemplated the neat columns of figures. The sums were staggering.
“The housekeeper will bring you the weekly accounts,” Lady Matlock continued. “You must review them carefully, question any irregularities, and maintain a firm but fair hand.”
For two hours, Lady Matlock led her through the intricacies of the coordination of servants, the planningof meals for both family dinners and grand entertainments, and the proper ordering of a great house. Elizabeth’s head spun with information, but she made note of everything, determined to prove herself capable.
“That is enough for this morning,” Lady Matlock said finally. “This afternoon, we visit my dressmaker.”
Madame Dupree greetedLady Matlock with obvious deference. “Your Ladyship, what a pleasure! And who is this young lady?”
“This is my young friend,” Lady Matlock said smoothly. “She is in need of a complete wardrobe. Spare no expense, madame. She must have everything—morning gowns, walking gowns, evening gowns, ball gowns, spencers, pelisses, bonnets, gloves, stockings. Everything.”
Madame Dupree’s excitement was hard to contain. Such a commission. “Mais certainement! Come, ma chère, let us take your measurements.”
The dressmaker whisked Elizabeth behind a screen and subjected her to what felt like an endless round of measuring, pinning, and draping fabrics. Madame Dupree clucked approvingly over her figure while calling out numbers to her assistant. When Elizabeth emerged, she found Lady Matlock in conversation with three fashionably dressed matrons.
“Lady Sefton, Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, Lady Cowper,” Lady Matlock said, her tone perfectly cordial. “I am sponsoring this young lady this Season.” HerLadyship gestured to Elizabeth with familiarity. “She is staying with us at Matlock House.”
The three matrons scrutinized Elizabeth with the assessing gazes of women accustomed to judging social standing at a glance. Elizabeth met their eyes and curtseyed with exacting propriety—neither excessive nor insufficient.
“Charming,” Lady Cowper said, though her air suggested she was reserving judgment. “And where is your family from, my dear?”
“Hertfordshire, your Ladyship,” Elizabeth replied. “A small estate, Longbourn, near Meryton.”
