“I had a sister once. Elizabeth. She was ten years my senior.”
“I remember her, in part,” said Richard. “More clearly her daughter, my cousin Margaret. I was very fond of her.”
“You always were inclined toward older attachments,” said Lord Matlock. “Your cousin was eleven years your senior, if I recall.”
“Seeing Madeline's niece the other evening brought them both to mind,” said Lady Matlock. “There was something in the young lady's face that startled me. Not a likeness one could define, perhaps, but enough to give pause.”
Darcy looked at her.
“I did not know your niece had a child.”
“She did. Margaret herself did not know it until she travelled north to visit my sister, who was already very ill. Her husband was with her. Philip, his name was. They lived somewhere in the south, near London. Discovering she was with child gave my sister hope, and they remained until the birth.”
“We visited then, did we not?” Richard asked.
“We did. All of us. For a time she seemed improved. We allowed ourselves to believe she might recover. But before Margaret's confinement was complete, her condition worsened. She lived only long enough to hold her granddaughter. They named the child for her.”
“And the child?” Darcy asked. “What became of her?”
“When Margaret recovered, she and her husband set out to return south. They never arrived. There was an accident. It was believed all were lost. Stephen withdrew entirely after that. He never recovered from it. The fever took him some years later.”
For reasons he could not entirely explain, the matter had never quite left him. He had not seen the young lady clearly at the theatre, only enough to be unsettled by the expression she wore. There had been joy in it, unstudied and sincere, and it had lingered longer than he wished to admit.
Roused at last from his thoughts, he became aware that he was no longer alone. A young lady had wandered to the same stretch of beach and now sat quietly upon a rock not far from the surf, her figure attended at a discreet distance by a footman whose posture suggested watchfulness rather than intrusion. She had removed her bonnet and placed it beside her, and for a moment Darcy’s attention rested there without particular intent.
The wind rose suddenly, sharper than before, and caught the bonnet where it lay. It lifted it from the stone and sent it skimming across the sand, ribbons trailing in its wake.
Darcy rose at once and intercepted it before it could be carried farther. As he did so, he looked toward the young lady. She had risen as well, her eyes following the bonnet’s path until they met his. He walked toward her with the bonnet in hand. The footman stepped forward slightly, but Darcy acknowledged him with a nod and continued on.
Elizabeth met him partway, her steps faltering for an instant as recognition dawned. He extended the bonnet to her.
"It seems the wind favours mischief this morning."
"Indeed it does," she replied. "Thank you, sir."
She took the bonnet, her fingers brushing his. They stood facing one another, neither quite willing to step away. Her eyes held his, curious and uncertain. He was almost sure she was the lady from the theatre. He could not find the words to speak what pressed upon him.
With a slight bow, he said, "Good morning, madam."
She curtsied in reply.
Darcy turned and walked away, heading back across the sand. At the last moment, he allowed himself to look once more in her direction. The young lady still stood where they had met.She had not replaced the bonnet but held it loosely, her gaze fixed upon it. Then she looked up, and he quickly looked away.
Chapter Six
Elizabeth returned from her walk with cheeks touched by the sea air, her bonnet once more secure upon her head. James, the footman who had attended her along the shore, followed through the garden gate before withdrawing to his duties.
In the morning room breakfast was already laid. The windows stood open to the sea, and the scent of hot chocolate mingled pleasantly with the salt air. Mrs. Gardiner greeted her with a smile.
“You are early abroad, Lizzy. I was half afraid the sea might prove too bracing.”
“On the contrary, Aunt, it was delightful. I should be glad to begin every day with such a walk, though I confess it tempted me farther than I intended.”
Mr. Gardiner looked up from his tea.
“Then we must be certain James has good boots. He shall have no rest while you are here.”
Elizabeth laughed and took her place at the table.
