The errant curl shimmered in the light from the wall lamps: chestnut. Darcy looked from it to Mrs. Elizabeth’s face, so familiar, the tilt of her head. Her smile as she took Georgiana’s hand—such casual intimacy.
“Y—you were the lady I met in Lambton?” Darcy managed to stutter.
“Oh, William, are you so unobservant?” cried Georgiana with some exasperation. “Of course it was Elizabeth. Who elsecould marshal the villagers thus? When we heard of the flood, it was she who organised the servants, the carts and carriages.”
“You do me too much honour, Georgiana. Without you, Lady Catherine and Mrs. Reynolds, my contribution would have been paltry indeed,” interposed Elizabeth, a blush highlighting her cheeks. “I’m sure Mr. Darcy, had he arrived a day earlier, would have achieved much more with less commotion.”
There was a pause in the conversation. Darcy was looking at Elizabeth, a puzzled expression crossed his countenance.
“Ma’am, I am a little confused,” he said. “Perhaps you can enlighten me. You spoke of your being charged with overseeing Pemberley’s accounts. Is this a task you share with Bennet? I suspect he is more involved with the estate, and you with the household?”
“Oh dear!” said Elizabeth, unable to look Darcy in the eye. “This is so mortifying, so embarrassing. You must forgive me, Mr. Darcy. I had no idea that you did not know it was I alone who had been appointed to represent Child’s at Pemberley.”
“But—but Georgiana introduced you asMrs.Elizabeth Bennet? The salutation in your letters was onlyBennet.I naturally—mistakenly, it seems—assumed thatBennetwas an accountant from the bank; that his being married prevented any impropriety in his staying at Pemberley with Georgiana as mistress.” He ran his hand through his hair. His countenance coloured as much as that of Elizabeth’s.
“There was no intention to mislead,” said Elizabeth. “I am in business—commerce—thus, I am referred to by the monikerMrs., as befits a woman of some rank and authority, as doesMrs. Reynolds, head of your household. The bank never uses titles in correspondence—you may have noted that Lady Jersey always signs asChild Villiers. Her personal communications use different salutations.”
There was silence, broken only by the ticking of the mantel clock. Georgiana was staring, perplexed, at both Elizabeth and William. “Whatever is it?” she said, as the silence continued. “Surely it is only a little matter?”
“Perhaps, Mrs. Bennet… Mrs. Elizabeth, we could talk later, in private,” said Darcy, looking directly at Elizabeth, who had raised her eyes and returned his gaze. “I fear we may have shared some confidences that are likely misunderstood.” Yet, he found he could not pull his eyes away, and it was only the entry of Lady Catherine and the Bingleys that forced him to withdraw and cast his attention elsewhere.
* * *
Chapter 25
Pemberley, November1813
“Mrs. Elizabeth! I had not expected anyone to be at breakfast.” Darcy entered the parlour, surprised to find Elizabeth already seated.
She looked up at him; there was a tiredness about her face, yet her expression was bright, her smile warm. “The house is very quiet, indeed. I suggested to Mrs. Reynolds that we set a late breakfast for our guests and allow the staff—those who spent the day at Lambton—a little longer to recover. Lacy, the under-cook, is in the kitchen—I fear Cook herself was quite exhausted by the end of the day.”
Darcy poured himself coffee and took a slice of toast from the plates laid out on the sideboard. “And you, Mrs. Elizabeth, are you not resting? For I believe your day was as long, if not longer, than anyone’s.”
“I shall sneak away to my room at the earliest opportunity, but there remains much to be done about the estate.” She gave him a sly smile. “Child & Co. prides itself on returning surety for a loan in as good, if not better, condition than when it came under the bank’s control. Thus, I am obliged to repair the storm’s damage, for it fell under my watch.”
“But I am returned, and I declare that you are free of any obligation. I have yet to examine Pemberley’s accounts, but in correspondence with Baxter, he assures me thatBennet’smanagement was exemplary.”
“You shall be rid of me soon enough, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied with forced insouciance. “I have written to Lady Jersey, requesting the coach for the return trip to London.”
Abruptly, she turned to stare out the window—beyond Pemberley’s lawns, deer grazed at the edge of the park, and for a moment Elizabeth allowed herself a fleeting thought that this was home, just as she had first felt on her arrival. But the moment passed—she was no longer a member of the household, merely a guest, and soon to be gone back to London.
“Mrs. Elizabeth, I believe there is much we should discuss—naturally, any issues you may wish to raise with respect to the estate and the accounts. But also, we shared some letters from Ireland that perhaps, are of a sensitive nature…”
Elizabeth turned her gaze away from the window, her dark eyes moistened. Darcy saw she was worn, that the previous day’s exertions had wearied her far more than she was willing to admit. Yet her countenance held a deeper pain. At that moment, if he were free of all restraint, he knew he would take her in his arms as though she were his sister Georgiana, and offer the solace that only a brother, a father… a husband, could offer. The thought caught in his mind and refused to be dislodged. But he had known Mrs. Elizabeth for less than a day…
The moment was lost—just then Georgiana entered the room. “Oh, Elizabeth, I am so tired. I believe I could return to my bed and sleep the whole day through.”
“Sweetling, of course you are tired; and of course you should return to your room. It was only a suggestion that we visit the cottagers along the stream off Beeley Moor. I’m sure James can accompany me—perhaps a day sitting in the market cart would help him recover from yesterday’s labour.”
“James? My apologies, I did not thank you for digging the channel,” said Darcy, turning to the footman. “I daresay I wouldnot have recognised you without your being covered in mud. It was a job very well done.” He turned back to Elizabeth. “Mrs. Elizabeth, you are taking the cart to the cottagers; surely Baxter can see to their needs?”
“Perhaps, but can he talk to the tenants’ wives and their children? Oh, for sure, there will be work required to repair rooves and remove fallen trees, but are the families dry and safe inside the cottage? Has water, dripping through the roof, dampened the fire? Have their stores of flour and oats survived? The women know me and will tell of their true troubles, rather than confide in a man and embarrass their husbands.”
“Can it not wait until the morrow, when we are all somewhat recovered?”
“No, indeed, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth, with some compassion. “Another night with wet blankets and cold food—‘tis for sure the children will come down with colds, or worse, inflammation of the lungs.”
* * *
