Chapter Twenty

D arcy was weary of social engagements. He understood how important it was to his sister's reputation and Miss Elizabeth's, and so he had done everything he had been asked. But more than a month after the near accident, things had calmed somewhat. Georgiana was working with both her music and Italian masters, and so he felt able to visit at Matlock House to speak with Fitz about his sister's vastly improved state of mind and the possibility of winding down the parts of their designed show of unity that required the most effort.

He was peering at a sculpture he had not seen before and awaiting Fitz's arrival for breakfast when two ladies descended the staircase. Lady Penelope had either visited exceedingly early or had remained overnight, something Darcy knew happened often when both women were in town.

Lady Penelope smiled at him. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy."

He bowed. "Lady Penelope, Lady Henrietta. I hope you are both well." Darcy did not wish them well. He wished them both dyspepsia so they could not join him for breakfast. It was unkind of him, but he was not feeling at all gentlemanly towards the two.

Lady Henrietta merely nodded, but her friend was not as tentative .

"I am, Mr. Darcy," Lady Penelope said cheerfully. "I have been in Bath with my parents, but they wished to spend the spring in town."

Darcy groaned silently. The last thing they all needed was the presence of Lady Penelope encouraging Lady Henrietta to more poor behaviour.

"Do you see, Hen?" Lady Penelope said quietly. "He is not angry."

Lady Henrietta must know that was not true, for she glanced away, clearly uncomfortable.

"Henrietta tells me that you and your cousins have spent a great deal of time and effort repairing Miss Elizabeth's reputation," Lady Penelope continued.

"There is nothing to repair, as you put it," Darcy replied directly. "Miss Elizabeth is a perfectly proper young woman."

"Oh, I do not doubt that it is advantageous for you to have her viewed as such, Mr. Darcy. I would not have you unfairly tied to her, and I am certainly not one to cause any problems."

He might have laughed scornfully at her, but discretion seemed the wiser course. There would be no avoiding this conversation in any case, and it might be useful to know what the woman intended. So Darcy listened.

Lady Penelope smiled at his cousin and said, confidently, "You see, Mr. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth Bennet has a talent for inserting herself into events to make herself appear worthy, but it is all quite calculated."

She glanced at Lady Henrietta, who added, "Miss Elizabeth has always been skilled at drawing attention to herself."

"Has she?" Darcy inquired, perhaps a bit too sharply. "How?"

Lady Penelope waved one hand carelessly as though she was brushing away an insect. "When we were at school together, she was forever making up to the teachers and even the masters. She refused to sit lower at table than girls who came from more prestigious families. She helped the servants to shirk their duties." She paused to ascertain that she had his attention. "And she was not in her room the night of the fire."

"Lady Penelope," Darcy said wearily, "as I understand it, the girls at Mrs. Buxton's owe their lives to Miss Elizabeth and her sister. Is your implication not the very definition of ingratitude?"

Lady Penelope eyed him coldly and pushed on as though he had not spoken. "Perhaps it was Miss Elizabeth who set the fire in the first place. It would not be the only time a fortune hunter went to great extremes to secure the gratitude of a wealthy family."

Lady Henrietta looked sharply at Penelope but did not contradict her.

Darcy paused a moment to restrain himself. "I would be quite careful about spreading such a malicious rumour, Lady Penelope. The only one who will be humiliated if that falsehood spreads will be you." He turned a burning gaze on his cousin. "And perhaps you as well, Lady Henrietta. You are only now recovering from the last rumour regarding you and Miss Amberley."

"And I can assure you," Fitz said, taking the last of the stairs, "Lord and Lady Carlisle are fiercely protective of the Bennet ladies. Consider them quite their own. You know how well connected they are—I would not wish to displease them."

Lady Penelope lifted an eyebrow, and Darcy hoped that she would begin to doubt her scheme, whatever it might be.

"But . . . "

Lady Henrietta's cheeks were flushed red, and she tipped her head to her friend. "I did warn you."

"I thought you were exaggerating," Lady Penelope said, loud enough for them all to hear. "I see how bad it has become." She treated first Darcy and then Fitz to a frosty glare .

"Hen, Lady Penelope—I trust both Darcy and I have made ourselves clear." Fitz glanced up as Milton and the earl started down the stairs towards them.

Lady Henrietta appeared even less at ease as her father and eldest brother approached. She glanced at Penelope, and then back at Fitz, almost pleadingly.

"Good morning, Lady Penelope," said Lord Matlock. "Henrietta, we must have a family breakfast this morning. Bid your friend farewell. Lady Penelope, I look forward to seeing your parents for dinner in a few days. They have been away too long."

Lady Penelope's red lips parted, her cheeks flushing with anger to be so casually dismissed, but she knew better than to argue with the earl. She gathered her dignity around her like a tattered cloak, tossed a meaningful glance at her friend, and then hurried from the room, leaving Lady Henrietta to face them all alone.

"Hen," Fitz said, his voice softening slightly, "I know Lady Penelope is your oldest friend, but consider the consequences of spreading such a terrible falsehood, not just to her, but to you."

Lady Henrietta paled as she nodded, unwilling to meet her brother's gaze. "I understand. I . . . apologise for any distress this conversation may have caused. I did attempt to tell Pen what has happened, but she was not willing to listen."

"Taste of your own medicine, then?" Milton asked glibly. "Come, let us to breakfast. I am famished."

The earl sighed. "Henrietta, I know you are struggling, but aligning yourself with those who would spread lies such as these is not an answer. Speak with your friend, but know that my expectations of you have not and will not change. "

Henrietta's gaze was on her feet. "Penelope is only attempting to help me. I will speak to her. If you will excuse me." She turned to ascend the stairs back to her chamber.

Darcy watched her go, and Fitz clapped him on the shoulder.

"It is a beginning, Darcy. Change does not happen overnight."

"It had better not take much more than that, Fitz," he replied. "You heard Lady Penelope. She may spread innuendo if she believes Lady Henrietta is being kept quiet."

"I can do nothing about Lady Penelope's mother," Darcy's uncle said. "That woman is every bit as superior as her daughter. More. I might perhaps have some luck with Lord Blackwell."

"Then we shall have to make sure Hen is very clear about leaving the Bennets alone," Milton said as they crossed over the threshold and into the breakfast room. He rubbed his hands together when he saw the table laden with food. "Excellent! I adore ginger cake!"

"Oh," Elizabeth said as she came to a sudden halt. "Is Georgiana not with you?"

Mr. Darcy shook his head. "I am sorry to disappoint you. It is only me today." He glanced behind her. "Are you by yourself?"

"I was expecting your sister," Elizabeth reminded him. "I would have taken her upstairs with me. Jane and Amelia are there." She stood, waiting to hear why Mr. Darcy had come.

In the pause that followed, she observed him fidget, open his mouth to speak, then close it again.

She sighed. "Out with it then, Mr. Darcy. What new calamity are you about to announce to me? "

He smiled wanly. "No calamity, madam. At least, I hope not."

"What is it, then?"

"Would you walk in the garden with me?"

She had not ever known Mr. Darcy to blurt anything out before, and he appeared startled by it himself, pressing his lips together as if attempting to keep any further communications under his strict control.

Elizabeth glanced out the windows to the large gardens behind the house. "I . . ."

"It is not the season for walking in gardens, of course, but I enjoy being out in the air and thought that perhaps you might as well."

"I do," she concurred. "Allow me to fetch my coat."

When she explained to the butler that Mr. Darcy had come to call, he sent word to Lady Carlisle and had Laramie accompany her at a discreet distance. Elizabeth was surprised that the footman could be spared from Amelia for such a task, but then, Amelia was safely upstairs with Jane as they worked on their music.

The air was sharp, but she hardly felt it under her thick wool coat and scarf. She breathed deeply. "It is a relief to escape the house for a moment. Thank you, Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy smiled. "The past few weeks have been . . . challenging."

"I must thank you, I think, for your support of me. It would have been a simple thing to allow me to reap the consequences of my own actions . . ."

"Not for a gentleman," he said, one side of his face curling up in distaste. She knew him well enough now that she understood the disdain was for the notion of such behaviour and not for her. "You were in harm's way to protect my sister, and I am the one who caused the stir with my actions. What sort of man leaves a woman such as that to face consequences of any but the most positive kind? "

Elizabeth met his gaze. "Many men, I am afraid. Not all of them possess your sense of honour, sir."

"Thank you," he said softly. "You cannot know what it means to me to hear you say so, given my behaviour at our first meeting."

She made to protest, and he lifted his hands. "I will not mention it again."

A chill breeze tickled the bare branches of the trees, and Elizabeth lifted her face to glory in the fresh air, cold and sharp but away from stuffy parlours and crowded ballrooms. "The more I come to know you, the more I understand that you are a very good man."

"I must confess," he said, "my own feelings have undergone a similar transformation. The more I come to know you, the more I find to admire." He trailed off and lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting hers. "May I . . . may I call on you?"

Elizabeth blinked. "Formally?"

He nodded, his jaw tight.

Her heart lifted as though in song. She had considered it, of course she had, but she had also done a very good job convincing herself that he was grateful but saw her only as Georgiana's friend. He was older and more experienced in the world, he was strong and commanding, and though he could be rude, he was more often kind and thoughtful. And just now, he was rather adorably flustered as he awaited her response.

"I would like that, Mr. Darcy," she told him. She felt a flutter of excitement in her chest as she considered Mr. Darcy's request. That he wished to call specifically to see her—it was a significant step, one that she knew the careful, sombre Mr. Darcy would never take without a serious goal in mind.

As they continued their walk through the garden, where everything lay fallow, she found herself stealing glances at Mr. Darcy, allowing herself at last to catalogue all his handsome features. He was a very good-looking man, but not in the soft, aristocratic way—and she appreciated that more than she could say. With the knowledge of his growing affection for her, he was even more appealing.

If that was vain, so be it. She would be vain.

"I never dared to hope that you might see me as any more than your sister's friend," she said softly.

Mr. Darcy stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression earnest. "Miss Elizabeth ," he said, the emphasis on her Christian name sending a lovely shock through her, "I have come to admire and respect you more than any woman I have ever met." He cleared his throat and looked over her shoulder. "I am not certain I ever saw you only as my sister's friend."

"At first you saw me as a terribly impertinent chit, I am sure. But people have a way of surprising."

"Indeed. I thought I knew everything, which ought to have been a sign that I knew very little. For a wise man is aware that he knows little and understands even less."

Elizabeth chuckled. "While I like to think myself a good judge of character, I have been wrong often enough. And sometimes I am right only to have the person change." She smiled at him impishly. "It has been known to happen."

He reached out to take her gloved hand in his, the warmth of his skin warming hers even through the fabric and bestowed a kiss upon her wrist between the hem of her glove and her sleeve.

Her heart thrummed at the sensation of his lips upon her bare skin.

"Thank you for allowing me to call, Miss Elizabeth. I ought to return you to the house before Mr. Laramie insists. I would not like to face his wrath. "

"Nor I," Elizabeth said with a little laugh. "He is quite formidable."

"And very quiet."

"I suppose he need not speak. In his work it might be better to be a man of action."

Mr. Darcy laughed. Cheerfulness made him appear younger. "You must be right." He held out his arm to Elizabeth. "Let me escort you back inside and then speak with the earl. I am only calling, but he will wish to know."

"I trust you to do things in the right way, sir," Elizabeth assured him.

He smiled, and Elizabeth's breath came a little faster. "Thank you."

Mr. Darcy was such a complex man—she truly had not had an inkling that he would take this step, though now she could allow herself to admit that she had hoped for it. Having a suitor like Mr. Darcy would undoubtedly bring its own set of challenges, further scrutiny from society and the uncertainties of love itself not the least of them. But as she considered the man beside her, his profile sharp against the winter sky, she knew that everything she had done and experienced had brought her here, with him, and that it was a very fine place to be.

Alas, one was never allowed to remain in bliss for long. The demands of life always intruded, and being in company with the Bingley sisters was the price Jane had to pay for her own wished-for match. Elizabeth would never leave her sister in the hands of such dubious personages without her, so Jane always had her as a shadow, and often Amelia too.

Mr. Bingley's sisters had been in London for more than a week when they invited Jane, Elizabeth, and Amelia on an outing. They were less enthusiastic when Jane mentioned an already planned excursion to the British Museum, but they agreed to join the ladies from Carlisle House .

Much to Miss Bingley's disappointment, the Darcys did not join them. Elizabeth would not admit that she agreed with Mr. Bingley's pumpkin-hued sister. She would also have liked to see Mr. and Miss Darcy and hear their thoughts on the displays.

Mr. Darcy had explained that he would be meeting with his uncle and cousins on business matters, and Elizabeth told herself to remain sanguine—not everything in his life was about her, certainly. Still, she missed his presence. Mr. Bingley was a nice man, and a compatible match for Jane, but he lacked the sort of intellectual and emotional intensity that she was learning she required. So she and Amelia followed Jane and her suitor about Sir Hans Sloane's collection of plant specimens from Jamaica and listened to them discuss both the display and the ethics of his study among the slaves on the island. Simultaneously, she attempted to ignore the complaints of his newly arrived sisters, who apparently were more interested in ancient jewellery. It was not long before the two groups split, the Bingley sisters being escorted by Mrs. Hurst's husband, a broad, heavy man who smelled of brandy.

If this courtship ever came to anything, Jane would have her hands full with these women. Elizabeth hoped Miss Bingley would prefer to live with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, for that would be the best solution for them all. Jane would never be usurped in her own house, and Miss Bingley was unlikely to appreciate that.

Amelia had asked to view a few of the sculptures, and Jane and Elizabeth walked with her, Laramie trailing, while Mr. Bingley went to collect the rest of his family.

As they strolled out towards the front of the building, Jane and Elizabeth froze when they heard voices coming from a small exhibition room off the hall. They would have missed it entirely had not Miss Bingley huffed and spoken just as they were moving past .

"Charles," she was saying, "you cannot be serious. Why did you not seek our approval first?"

"I was not aware I required it," Mr. Bingley replied.

Mrs. Hurst's lower voice spoke next. "Think, Brother. While the connection to the Carlisles is certainly advantageous, it is hardly a solid foundation for a marriage."

Mr. Bingley might have said any number of things then—that he cared for Jane above all others. That he was already in a courtship. That the connection to the Carlisles was neither here nor there in any case. Perhaps even that he was capable of choosing a wife for himself.

But there was only silence.

Elizabeth bit her lower lip and glanced at Jane, who was standing very still. She took Jane's arm to hurry her away, but Jane removed Elizabeth's hand and shook her head.

Amelia glanced behind them, and Laramie moved closer.

"What would you have me do, Caroline? I thought you would be pleased, for Jane and her sister have a very sincere friendship with the Carlisles."

Jane frowned.

"Friendship? Charles, do not be na?ve. The Carlisles are a great family who might drop the acquaintance on a whim, and then where will you be? No, you should set your sights on Miss Darcy as we have discussed before."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed.

"I highly doubt Miss Darcy is at all interested in me in such a way, and I am not interested in her."

"Your friendship with Mr. Darcy is far more established, Charles, and more likely to endure," Mrs. Hurst said, ignoring her brother. "And do not forget that Miss Darcy's fortune exceeds that of Miss Bennet by nearly ten thousand pounds. It would be a more advantageous match. "

"Do not be ridiculous," Mr. Bingley said.

"Charles, recall Papa's admonition to you, to secure your future and elevate your family's status in the best way available to you. You must think practically."

Jane and Elizabeth shared a pained look. They knew the strength of parental expectations, but they had plotted their own course. Surely Mr. Bingley, with his vast funds, could do the same. They waited a beat, but Mr. Bingley said nothing, and Jane finally motioned that they should leave.

Elizabeth was both saddened and relieved. Mr. Darcy's defence at the theatre had not only made an impression on Elizabeth—strength was appealing to Jane as well. If Mr. Bingley did not have it, it was better to know now, no matter how distressing it was in the moment.

"Jane?" she asked softly as they hurried through the rest of the building. "Are you well?"

"I do not know, Lizzy. Please do not ask me, not here."

"To speak so openly in the museum—that was awful," Amelia said in a hushed tone. She glanced over her shoulder. "Even Laramie thinks so, do you not, Laramie?"

Laramie did not speak, but Elizabeth thought the man's dour expression made his sentiments clear.

They reached the front hall, where they had agreed to wait for the rest of their party and perhaps join them for tea. After another quarter of an hour, the Bingleys and Hursts arrived.

"Shall we continue on to tea, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked cheerfully.

"I fear I am rather fatigued after our visit, Mr. Bingley," Jane said firmly. "We shall return to Carlisle House, if we may."

Mr. Bingley's expression denoted his disappointment, but he was gallant, assisting Jane up into the carriage and offering the same for Elizabeth and Amelia. He stood on the pavement after his own party had entered their coach and touched his hand to the brim of his hat as they departed.

"Perhaps he struggles to assert himself against his sisters," Amelia said hopefully. "They are rather difficult to manage, I suspect."

"But that in itself is a problem," Jane said gently. "I cannot marry a man who is not in control of his household." She shared a knowing glance with Elizabeth. Neither of them would ever marry a man like their father, who was only strong when it benefited him to be.

"You need a man who will support you even in the face of his family's objections," Elizabeth agreed. She placed a hand atop Jane's where it rested on the seat between them.

"That is true," Amelia said. "You deserve a man of character and conviction." She met Elizabeth's gaze. "We all do."

Jane nodded but did not speak. She looked out the window, pensive—and for once, Elizabeth did not know what to say.