“Mrs. Darcy, what a pleasant surprise! I did not know you had returned to Town.” Lady Jersey swept into the Oak Room, where Elizabeth was reading her notes from the previous meeting.
She stood and gave a practised curtsey. “Just a week ago. The planting at Pemberley is finished, and Darcy and I thought we would catch the end of the season. If you will forgive my impertinence, your ladyship, I met Mr. Adkins, a clerk in our accounts section…”
Lady Jersey gave an embarrassed tilt of her head. “Ah, you have ferreted out my little subterfuge. It was to be expected, foryou have a keen intelligence, Mrs. Darcy—your most endearing quality, as benefits the bank.”
“Why, my lady, did you send me to Pemberley? Mr. Adkins tells me he had never been approached for the position; though, indeed, his wife did deliver him last year a very healthy girl.”
“When we first met, Elizabeth, you reminded me so much of myself at your age: independent, confident, honest, able to stand high in a male-dominated world. Of course, I was an heiress, yet I found in my dear George, Viscount Villiers, a man who could support my ambition without demanding that I subsume myself to his. He was content to manage Osterley Park while allowing me the freedom to manage Child & Co., supporting my role in society. Contrary to some reports, ours is a match of admiration and respect. We have two delightful children—can I rely on your discretion?—and another soon to join them.”
“B—but Mr. Darcy? Was it always your intention that we should marry?”
“Indeed, Elizabeth, that was my hope—that you and Darcy would come to realise that you belong together. Can you forgive me?—some would call it meddling, but I see it as giving destiny a little nudge.”
Elizabeth gave Lady Jersey a heartfelt embrace. “I never suspected,” she said, “that when I came to Child’s at my uncle’s behest, it would so change my life. You have uncanny insight, Lady Jersey. Darcy is the finest of men, and I love him dearly. Thank you, my lady—thank you with all my heart.”
* * *
Chapter 30
Ireland
The city was a lively hum, a patchwork of laughter and clattering hooves, the air sharp with the tang of peat smoke and sea mist rolling along the Liffey from Dublin Bay.
“Oh, look!” cried Georgiana. “A jaunting car! Please, Augustus, can we ride on one?”
“Anything to please my Duchess.” Lord Leinster stopped his coach and requested a footman to secure a jaunting car for their convenience. He assisted Georgiana onto one side, while Darcy helped Elizabeth onto the other, before climbing up and sitting beside her. The coach followed respectfully behind, as the car made its way along Merchants Quay, opposite the colonnades of the Four Courts building.
“At least there are no ruts to knock you off,” said Elizabeth, as she watched Dublin unfold before her. The streets were narrower here than in London, the houses appeared taller—indeed, as Darcy had written in his letters, it was that city’s equal in architecture and elegance. There was something about the place, a restless, easy confidence, as if the city had survived a hundred storms and would weather a hundred more.
Georgiana, now Duchess of Leinster, glowed with happiness, her gloved hand resting on her husband’s arm. The Duke, a tall man with a ready, unstudied charm, pointed out the sights as they rolled past Trinity College—its grand, sun-bleached façade alive with students in black gowns—and the Senatorial Hall, now the Bank of Ireland.
“Do you wish to see the tapestries? They are said to rival those commissioned by the Duke of Malborough to celebrate his victories over Louis XIV. Come, let me show them to you.” The Duke handed down Georgiana, and they made their way into the building. There was a hushed silence as the customers and staff alike, paused and bowed to the Duke and Duchess. Nodding in acknowledgement, he moved quickly to view the hangings.
“Dublin has ever been a city of contradictions,” the Duke laughed, catching Darcy’s sceptical eye. “It is both ancient and new, rebellious and loyal, English and yet never truly so. While mostly a Catholic country, these tapestries celebrate Protestant victories against an English Catholic King James II.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Rather a conundrum, Your Grace.”
“It is, Mrs. Darcy,” he agreed, “and one I have not yet solved.”
Darcy, who had seemed reserved since their arrival, relaxed in the company of his sister. “Dublin has more character than I expected,” he admitted, “though Croft did say it was livelier than London.”
Their tour wound on—past the statue of King William, past the elegant sweep of Merrion Square, where poets and politicians had lived cheek by jowl, and the Duke kept his house in town.
The Duke had arranged for a private barge, its polished wood gleaming, drawn by a team of sturdy horses along the towpath. Elizabeth had never travelled by canal before. She found it oddly peaceful, the gentle sway of the boat, the quiet splash of water against its sides. The city faded, replaced by green banks dotted with wildflowers and the occasional ragged child waving at their slow passage.
Georgiana pressed close. “Is it not beautiful?” she whispered.
Elizabeth, watching the reflection of the sky ripple in the water, nodded. “I never imagined Ireland could be so gentle.”
The journey lasted several hours, the countryside rolling past in shades of emerald and gold. At intervals, they passed through locks, the process slow and faintly magical: gates swinging, water rising or falling, the boat lifting imperceptibly as if by some secret hand.
At last, the Duke pointed to the horizon, where a grand house waited amid a sweep of manicured parkland and ancient trees. “Carton House,” he announced with pride. “It has been in my family for generations. Now, it is home to my Duchess—and to any family she chooses to bring—you are always welcome.”
He laughed. “I have ordered another carriage to meet us, Darcy. A trifle more elegant than a farmer’s cart!”
* * *
The wedding of the Duke and Georgiana had been a small, private affair, with only his brother, Lord William FitzGerald, and his sisters, Lady Emily and Lady Isabella, attending from his family, along with Darcy, Elizabeth, and the Matlocks. The couple had invited Elizabeth and Darcy to accompany them to Ireland. Now, after a week at Carton House, they would continue their journey along the canal to Mullingar.
