Elizabeth
Ispread butter on my roll and sneaked a glance at Lady Catherine, who sat on my left. “Today I shall attend a meeting with Mr. Edwards, the vicar at Kympton, and several of the neighbourhood ladies. We shall discuss local families in need of charitable assistance.”
She gave no sign of heeding me.
“Lady Catherine, would you like to accompany me? You could meet several local gentlewomen, and I think you would—”
“No, I think not. I prefer to rest in my room today.” She spared me nary a glance and returned her attention to her meal.
I set down my knife and quelled the inclination to sigh. I did not expect her to accept my offer, but she did not need to be so rude. She seemed more disagreeable today than usual. Perhapsany attempt to break through her hostility would be a futile endeavour.
Seated at the table’s far side, my dear husband met my gaze. His dark eyes conveyed a searing zeal that warmed me from within, infusing me with vitality.
No amount of effort could be too much for him. For his sake, I should persist in my attempts to reach his disagreeable aunt. Hidden within the confines of Lady Catherine’s callous exterior must be an abiding affection for Fitzwilliam, or she would not have been so determined to have him for a son-in-law. That same fondness should extend to his son and, in time, might induce her to tolerate me. With renewed cheerfulness, I addressed Fitzwilliam. “What are your plans for the day?”
“I am riding with Mr. Cross to the estate’s southern border to inspect the fences in the area.”
Graham swallowed a large mouthful of food, took a sip of ale, and regarded my husband. “I should like to accompany you, Darcy.”
“Very well. We shall leave in an hour.”
Lady Catherine’s continued silence throughout the remainder of the meal struck me as a glaring oddity…and a bit of a blessing.
Kympton
Elizabeth
At the parsonage, I took a seat in the corner beside Mrs. Mead. Whilst the others carried on an animated discussion of local news with Mr. Edwards, I took the opportunity to engage my friend.
I bent my head near her. “Pray excuse my intrusion into your personal affairs, but since Mr. Graham is a guest in my home, I feel a certain responsibility for the situation. Although he insistsyou are content with the arrangement between the two of you, I want to ensure he is not mistaken.”
A coral hue tinted her complexion, and her sight dropped to her hands.
Oh dear, had I offended her? Maybe I erred in broaching the subject.
After a moment, her chin lifted. “You need not be concerned for me. I agreed to accept his…friendship with the understanding he would stay in the area for no more than a week.”
“Oh. I am relieved to hear that.”
“I had thought that once you learnt of our association, you would no longer want my friendship. I should have been devastated if that happened.”
My hand curled around hers. “No, that thought never entered my mind.”
With the merest tremble in her lips, Mrs. Mead recovered her poise. Yet her wistful aspect abided. Did she dread Graham’s return to Calabria?
No, that did not seem likely. For the whole of our acquaintance, Mrs. Mead had endured recurring periods of melancholy. She had lost her husband less than two years before we met. By all accounts, her marriage to Mr. Nicholas Mead had been a love match, so she had endured a dreadful loss when her husband died.
A shudder rippled through me. A few days ago, Fitzwilliam had had a narrow escape while out riding. At the time, I had not allowed my mind to dwell on the incident, but I could have lost my husband! How should I have coped without him? The concept of never seeing Fitzwilliam again brought a searing ache to my heart. I drew my hand to my chest.
“Are you well?” Mrs. Mead whispered the query.
“Yes, I am.” I removed my handkerchief and pressed the cloth to the corners of my damp eyes. “One of my lashes went astray.”
“May I be of assistance?”
“No, I have removed it now. Thank you.” What was wrong with me? I had never been one to engage in histrionic conduct. Fitzwilliam had not even sustained a scratch, and to my knowledge, he had always enjoyed the best of health. He never even caught colds. In contrast, my mother and father contracted illnesses every year, yet both still thrived. I had every reason to expect my husband to live a long life.
Mr. Edwards took the empty seat next to me and announced the start of the meeting. My friend and I shared a significant look; the opportunity for confidential conversation had passed.
