Later, after dinner, I took Elizabeth out for a stroll before the wind picked up again. The air was crisp and cold, and she took my arm so naturally that I was moved to say, “That was a handsome concession you gave my sister.”
“To miss her presentation? It was hardly a concession—and selfish besides—but I thank you.”
“I have forgotten to ask where you would like to go for a wedding trip,” I said.
“Why—to Pemberley, where else?” she answered quickly. “But might I now ask for a concession from you, sir?”
“Anything.”
“I would like to invite Aunt Gardiner to Pemberley this summer.”
“Of course. She should come to see Mrs. Jennings if nothing else. And Mr. Gardiner?”
“If he wishes to escort her, yes. But they will have Mary with them for the summer, you see.”
“And? She might like a holiday, and Georgiana would be pleased to have her.”
“You are very good,” Elizabeth said sweetly, and then I knew this was but the preamble for what she really wished to ask.
I came to a halt and faced her. “What else would you ask of me? You must be aware I shall do anything for your happiness.”
“I am, but my courage fails me. I have asked too much of you already.”
“Hmm. I sense you are about to enquire as to the disposition of my mother’s jewels.”
“Gracious! I would never think of doing so!” she cried.
“You are curious as to the funds I have settled on you. Perhaps you are going to hint that you will need a touch more if you are to entertain the luminaries of society?”
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Well, if those are not the boons you are seeking, then tell me?”
“I would like to invite Kitty to stay with me at Pemberley. She will be so much happier away from Lydia, and I can think of no better place for her than your mother’s little parlor, playing Lottery Tickets and keeping Mrs. Jennings company. No, no, before you accuse me of using her unfairly, I must tell you—”
“I remember what you once said of her. She is a girl who only wishes to be comfortable and to be noticed. To have her wishes attended to by so many people, as she would as Mrs. Darcy’s sister, would be a welcome change for her.”
“You understand,” she said almost in wonder.
“I do and I concur. She should stay with us for as long as she likes.”
We walked along in a silence that stretched a little too long. Again, I stopped. “You had better finish your petitions, Petunia. I am getting a chill while waiting for you to gather your courage.”
She laughed a little sheepishly. “You reallydounderstand me.” And then, she looked up at me imploringly. “My mother is in earnest about coming to London to visit the warehouses and tour your house, and oh, I do love her, but I dread it!”
I kissed her half-frozen nose and said, “In this I cannot help you. You survived Mrs. Burke, you know, and I cannot imagine you are unequal to visiting a few shops with Mrs. Bennet. What else?”
“Papa has hinted he does not like my plan of getting Lydia a horse. He claims it will be too large a gift, but in truth, I suspect his pride is merely dented that he cannot provide a mount for his daughter.”
“Ah, that is more in my line. Will you allow me to rid you of that miniscule concern, my love?”
“I would be most grateful if you did.”
“Excellent. And now, might we please turn back? I can no longer feel my fingers.”
“So delicate,” she murmured playfully.
I pretended to cough, and she then broke from my side and challenged me to a footrace back to our door. I caught her in spite of the handicap of surprise and pressed her into the dark corner of yet another shop door, now shuttered for the night.
