Page 32 of Mr Darcy Bets on Love

By the time Darcy walked home through the lamplit March dusk, he had entirely forgotten Lord Aldridge's fifty guineas.

He would remember them soon enough.

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Matlock House. Monday, 9th March

Matlock House stood on the far side of Grosvenor Square from Darcy House, so close that Elizabeth could have walked it in two minutes. Lady Theodosia would not hear of it.

"One does not walk to call on a countess," she said, laughing, handing Elizabeth up into her own carriage. "Not the first time. My godmother would think you had come to deliver the laundry."

So they drove, sixty yards, round three sides of the square, and Elizabeth sat with her hands in her lap and her heart in her throat, and was very glad of the company.

The Countess of Matlock received them in a long, cold, beautiful drawing room hung with yellow silk. She was a handsome woman of fifty, very upright, with Georgiana's fair colouring gone to silver and a pair of pale, penetrating eyes. She did not rise when they came in. She held out two fingers to her goddaughter, and inclined her head perhaps half an inch to Elizabeth.

"Mrs Darcy."

"Lady Matlock." Elizabeth curtsied. "Thank you for receiving me. And for the shawl, at Candlemas. It is the most beautiful thing I own. I wore it for the whole of my wedding journey."

Something flickered in the pale eyes. "I am glad it was of use. Pray sit down."

The next half hour was the longest of Elizabeth's life.

Lady Matlock was not rude. She was, if anything, too polite: every question perfectly civil, every answer received with the same small cool nod. Where had Elizabeth been educated? At home. By a governess? No. Did she draw? A little, and badly. Did she speak French? Tolerably. Italian? No. Who was her mother's family? Her grandfather had been an attorney in Meryton. Her uncle was in trade, in Cheapside.

At this last, there was a pause. Lady Matlock set down her teacup with a very small click.

"In trade," she repeated.

"Yes, ma'am," said Elizabeth, and made herself meet those pale eyes steadily. "Mr Gardiner imports silks and spices. He is the most sensible man I know, and the kindest. Mr Darcy likes him extremely."

"Does he."

Lady Theodosia, beside her on the sofa, laughed lightly. "Oh, godmama, everybody's uncle is in trade now. Lady Jersey's grandfather was a banker. And Mrs Darcy's family is very old, on the other side; the Bennets came over with the Conqueror, Georgiana says." She turned to Elizabeth with a warm little smile. "And Mrs Darcy has already won over the whole of Darcy House, you know. Mrs Dawes adores her. Georgiana has not stopped talking about her. And I am told she has quite a talent for the pianoforte."

Elizabeth, who had played for nobody in London and had certainly not told Lady Theodosia about her playing, opened her mouth to correct this. Then she closed it again. It was kindly meant. It would be ungracious to contradict it.

Lady Matlock looked from her goddaughter to Elizabeth, and back.

"Theodosia is very generous," she said. "She always has been." There was a slight emphasis on the word that Elizabeth could not interpret. "Mrs Darcy, I will be plain with you, since I understand you prefer plainness. My husband is displeased with my nephew. Not with you, particularly; with him. For marrying without our counsel, and against our hopes, and for telling us so late that it was a settled thing. I was disappointed too. I will not pretend I was not."

"I understand, ma'am."

"I doubt that you do. But you may." Lady Matlock rose, which meant the call was over. "Georgiana is to be presented at the April Drawing Room. I shall present her, as I would have done in any case. It would be well if you came too, and were presented on your marriage. It will be expected. It will also be watched. Do you understand me?"

"I think so, ma'am. You mean that people will be waiting for me to make a fool of myself."

The countess looked at her for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, the corner of her mouth moved. It was not a smile. But it was, perhaps, a relation of one.

"Just so," said Lady Matlock. "Good day, Mrs Darcy. You have a friend in Theodosia. I hope you will know how to value your friends."

In the carriage, going back round the three sides of the square, Lady Theodosia took her hand and squeezed it.

"You were splendid," she said. "Truly. Much better than I was, my first time. She is always like that, you know. You must not mind her."

"I do not mind her," said Elizabeth, and found, rather to her surprise, that it was true. "I think I like her."

Lady Theodosia looked at her with an odd expression, and then laughed, and said that Elizabeth was the bravest woman in London. But she was quiet for the rest of the short drive, and looked out of the window, and did not say anything else.