“What an irksome perspective.” A soft laugh passed my lips. “And yet I do not doubt she feels that way, for she hated for anyone to see her unless she looked her best. She took pride in the fact that in her seventh decade, she retained the figure of a much younger woman.” I snuffled.
“She sends her love and expresses her delight for the life you have with Darcy and your son.”
“Thank you. I appreciate this.”
“The pleasure has been mine.”
A sheen of perspiration on his upper lip caught my notice, and I peered at him. “Are you certain this activity did not cause you discomfort?”
“No, not at all, truly. Pray do not give it another thought.”
“Very well.”
Graham moved the horses forwards again. We did not converse for the rest of the ride as I sorted through the feelings and memories inspired by his communication with my grandmama.
Back at the house, we encountered an ornate coach in the courtyard. Two footmen, donned in distinctive livery, unloaded luggage from the vehicle. “Mercy, Lady Catherine is here!” A heavy feeling invaded the pit of my stomach, and my fingers clutched the fabric of my pelisse. What could have provoked her to come—without a word of warning?
“Is aught amiss?” Graham’s eyes searched mine. “How may I assist you?”
“Oh no, nothing is wrong. Pray excuse my outburst.” I avoided his gaze. “My husband’s aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh is here. We…um…have not heard from her in a long while, so her arrival is…unexpected.”
Our estrangement from the de Bourghs—Lady Catherine and her daughter, Anne—originated three years prior upon Fitzwilliam’s receipt of a letter from Lady Catherine. In reply to his written notification of our engagement, she sent a correspondence filled with hostile, insulting words directed towards me. In his fury, Fitzwilliam had declared all communication with his aunt to be at an end. Since then, my gentle suggestions to him that he might write to Lady Catherine had met unwavering resistance.
Graham assisted me down from the curricle. With a calming breath, I readied myself for Lady Catherine’s formidablepresence. Her appearance must indicate a willingness to reconcile and accept our marriage.
A florid-cheeked Mr. Rutley greeted us at the door. “Madam, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Rebecca Seymour arrived half an hour ago. They are in the saloon.” He bent closer. “A groom has been sent to retrieve the master.”
“Thank you, Rutley.” With a nod, he took our outerwear and departed.
Graham rubbed his palms together, his blue eyes flourishing with an impish gleam. “Shall we venture forth and greet your guests?”
“Alas, I am at a loss and cannot provide a practical alternative.” I wiped my hands, damp with perspiration, upon the skirt of my dress.
He offered his arm, and I took it. Upon our entrance to the bright and spacious room, Lady Catherine and her companion both stood, their gazes took me in before straying to Graham.
I curtsied. “Lady Catherine, this is an unexpected pleasure. Forgive me for not being here to welcome you earlier.”
My husband’s aunt turned to me with a grave, harsh look. “Yes, I am sure you are well pleased for the honour of my visit.” She waved the other lady closer. “Lady Rebecca Seymour, allow me to present the wife of my nephew, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Lady Catherine gritted her teeth, as though the act of pronouncing my name pained her.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Rebecca.” My respiration faltered as I took in the lady’s features—her beauty struck me as familiar and disturbing. She bore a closer resemblance to me than did my own sisters!
Lady Rebecca gave me a curt nod. Her sight lingered upon me, and her hands fell at her sides as she too seemed to have been taken aback by our similar features. Lady Catherine’s pointed stare at Graham alerted me to my duty, and I introduced him.
With an unsightly twist to her mouth, Lady Catherine studied Graham. “I am glad to meet any friend of Darcy’s. Of course, it is apparent you are a veryclosefriend to Mrs. Darcy as well. I hope our advent has not disrupted any plans the two of you may have contrived.”
“Not at all, I assure you.” Graham gave her an easy smile. “Elizabeth and I have just returned from visiting a tenant.”
At his use of my given name, Lady Catherine started, her eyes narrowing.
Oh dear, my husband’s aunt could be counted on to attach the worst possible significance to this bit of familiarity. What could be done to redeem the moment—order refreshments? But no, my glance to the table showed that to be unnecessary; the ladies had already been served tea, cakes, and sandwiches. No doubt Mrs. Reynolds had taken care to include the items Lady Catherine most preferred.
We all took seats, and Graham fixed himself a plate of food.
Lady Rebecca edged forwards to view me. “Pray, when do you expect your husband to return? Lady Catherine has described him in such complimentary terms that I am most anxious to meet him.” She licked her lips in a slow, lascivious way, as though in anticipation of a tasty morsel.
Good God, what audacity! Did she hope to intimidate me? I did not doubt my husband’s love. Still, how could I not be daunted by the lady’s eager interest in him? “I hope he will return soon.”
My gaze shifted to Lady Catherine. “Will the two of you be staying with us for a few days?” My breath suspended. Mayhap they meant to stop at Pemberley on their way to another destination such as the Fitzwilliam estate. I crossed my fingers.
