Page 2 of In the Eyes of Lord Lingley

“Hurt!” he sputtered, making Lingley laugh again. “Nonsense!”

“Do not worry yourself about it, Colonel. I shall not tell anyone of your soft heart.”

“Ha! What heart? I am a battle-hardened soldier. Where is my cousin? He shall be held accountable for this liable!”

“He is with Lizzy upstairs,” a sweet. soothing voice replied, making both men jump as they had not heard anyone approach. “They are waiting for everyone to arrive so that Hill can announce them.”

“Would you introduce me, Fitzwilliam?” Lingley asked, not taking his eyes from the young lady.

“Er…” The Colonel looked at the dowdy woman who had addressed them, at a loss.

She seemed to diminish before their eyes as she muttered, “I am Elizabeth’s sister, Mary.”

“Of course! You must forgive me. I do not know where my mind has gone,” Fitzwilliam bowed handsomely in apology.

The woman, Miss Mary apparently, did not look appeased and simply turned and walked away from them while muttering under her breath in what sounded like Greek but with her mangled pronunciation it was difficult to tell. Lingley grinned with surprise at her daring, having just cut two sons of different earls.

“She is something,” Fitzwilliam frowned.

“She certainly is,” he said, though he was hardly agreeing to Fitzwilliam’s feelings.

“I knew she was odd, but I cannot believe that she would be so lacking in manners as to do such a thing!”

“You did completely forget who she was,” Lingley grinned, shouldering him aside and following after her.

Chapter 2

Once again, the little runaway seemed to have disappeared, though with her small stature it must be easy enough for her to hide herself away when she wished. The house itself had grown rather crowded, and he was forced to give up his search when the sonorous voice of the butler rang through the rooms announcing the arrival of the newlyweds.

He allowed the gathered throng to greet them before he stepped forward himself to do the same. Darcy gave him a slap on the back and invited him to join them in enjoying the fantastical gathering of comestibles which Mrs. Bennet proudly crowed that her cook had been assisted in producing by Darcy’s own French chef from London. Lingley gave his friend a dry look, to which Darcy responded with a shrug. Plates appeared as they settled at a table in the sitting room beside many of the neighborhood ladies.

“Well, Darcy,” Lingley declared as he enjoyed a fine merlot, “I have never seen such a thing as your wedding day. Tell me, is this exchanging of cattle a common practice in Hertfordshire, or is it a northern idea?”

Darcy rolled his eyes, but his bright-eyed bride giggled brightly and asked, “Do you not pay a bride price where you are from?”

“No, indeed,” he replied. “In Kent, where my family has resided for many generations, the only exchange between marriage partners that I am aware of is the dowry. Though, to be truthful, this is the first wedding I have ever attended outside of London.”

“Ladies still have dowries,” Elizabeth assured him, “but the bride’s family is also paid the bride price, in exchange for the honor of her hand.”

“And what is the usual price of a bride in Meryton?” he teased.

“Well, everything depends on the perceived value of the bride to her beloved,” Jane replied, smiling winsomely at her husband.

“Is this only the gentry or do the common man do so as well?”

“All ladies hope to be of worth to their husbands. Even the tenants exchange a chicken or two for their wives. A tradesman, a pair of pigs or goats. For the landed gentleman, a more expensive animal is expected.”

“And yet they are all called cattle?”

“Yes, though I do not believe that anyone remembers why,” Darcy grumbled. “This is a common practice in Derbyshire as well. Perhaps it does come from the northern tribes of old. My mother, Lady Anne, was a six-cow wife as well. An unheard-of number in the area at the time.”

“My mother was a two-cow wife,” Elizabeth explained, humming with pleasure as she ate her trifle. “Though Grandfather Gardiner gave the animals back to my Grandfather Bennet as he had no use for cattle as an attorney in Meryton; Grandpapa Bennet provided them with all the milk, butter, and cheese they wished for in recompense.”

“I am a three cow wife myself,” a lady interrupted from further down the table.

“My husband paid four cows for me,” another replied from across the table.

“Chickens,” Elizabeth whispered to them. “Sir William was a shopkeeper before he was knighted, and Sarah Winn, as was, was the daughter of the butcher.”