Mr Gardiner pressed his lips together. “I know much about Miss de Bourgh’s mother, Lady Catherine. She is a formidable woman who is used to getting her own way. Give it time. I am certain that once you become known to her, your pleasant manner and delightful company will overcome all obstacles.”
“Thank you for your biased faith in me, Uncle. I have met Lady Catherine, and her behaviour was perplexing at best.”
Mr Gardiner grinned. “That is what I mean—who would not be charmed by your quick wit?”
“My mother,” Elizabeth replied flatly. “I have lately pondered whether her admonishments were correct.”
Mr Gardiner laughed and ushered her out of his study. In the next moment, he had left the house.
Chapter 13 A Virtuous Woman
The seamstress from Mrs Bean’s called the next day.
“I’ve come to collect the excess dresses, ma’am.”
“That is greatly appreciated. Follow me,” Elizabeth beckoned, leading the servant towards the mistress’s chamber.
Like a jack-in-the-box, Darcy emerged from his study and followed them to her dressing room with a haughty air and narrowed eyes.
Elizabeth fetched and neatly folded, one by one, the twelve gowns that she had not ordered. With each garment she retrieved, her husband’s ears grew redder.Good. He deserves to be embarrassed for accusing me of being an unmitigated spendthrift.
“I am afraid that I need the ball gown, too, unless you want to pay for the Dhaka muslin yourself.”
“Lady Matlock gave it to me as a gift,” Elizabeth protested.
“It is Mrs Bean’s orders that I retrieve the gowns that have not been paid for. I know nothing else,” the seamstress said whilst wringing her hands.
Elizabeth took pity upon the innocent servant and fetched the offending article. “You might as well take the stays too. They need altering before selling to anyone else as they are much too low. I had to pin a fichu over my bosom to avoid exposing myself in the obscenest of manners.” Darcy was staring a hole in the floor, but she was not sparing him the crude details if he insisted upon importuning her. “The split also needs attention. It is roughly sewn together as I was even less inclined to expose my bottom.”
Darcy could not leave fast enough and tripped on the Persian rug beside her bed. Elizabeth bit her cheek to quash the laughter that bubbled in her chest. It was to be hoped that he had learnt a lesson and would, at the very least, exert himself to listen to her when next he took umbrage against something she had supposedly said or done…
As soon as the seamstress had left, callers were announced, unnerving Elizabeth.
“Judge Darcy, Mr Augustus Darcy, and Miss Clarissa Darcy are here to see you, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr Gilbert. I shall greet them in the morning room in a moment. Will you notify Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth was not of a mind to entertain the curmudgeonly judge by herself. Every fibre in her body resented the fact that she must see him at all.
“I already have, ma’am.”
“Oh, and order some tea.”
“Of course, Mrs Darcy,” the butler replied with the kind of patience that told her he already had notified the kitchen.
There was not much else to do but join the fray. After smoothing her unruly curls, she left the sanctuary of the mistress’s chamber. She could hear the judge from the top of the stairs and descended with determination. The sounds were coming from the more formal drawing room, and thither she walked.
“Where is Mrs Darcy? It is peculiar not to welcome one’s guests—and family at that,” the judge grumbled.
Before Darcy had time to make her excuses, Elizabeth entered and turned her grimace into a grin.
“Here she is,” Elizabeth announced with an affected lilt to her voice. The man who had nearly toppled her outside Mrs Bean’s establishment was standing in her parlour. Why had she not recognised him yesterday when he visited? Because she had not actually looked at him, that was why.
The judge’s eyes appeared uncommonly large behind the spectacles resting on an aristocratic nose. He sported a great deal of forehead, which was to be expected from a man of his age. His son had the Darcy blue eyes, though they looked a trifle bleary on this fine morning. In every other aspect he resembled a well-ironed image of his father. Miss Clarissa Darcy was the female version, though significantly shorter and sturdier.
“And that must be one of your sisters.” The judge lifted a crooked finger and pointed above her shoulder.
Elizabeth turned and was surprised to see Mary standing on the threshold. “Yes, this is my sister Miss Mary Bennet.”
