The Houseguest A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (30 page)

~

“Tell me everything you know about Sir Malcolm,” Elizabeth said abruptly as she
walked into the sitting room.
“Well you certainly don't waste time, Miss Elizabeth!” answered Lady Matlock.
“Sit down and let's have some tea, then we can discuss the baronet. I assume
you enjoyed your walk?”
Lady Matlock poured while Elizabeth sat working her skirt in her fingers, her
only answer a lift of one arched brow.
“Has he declared himself then?” Lady Matlock asked.
Lord Matlock lowered his book slightly and peered over the top.
“He may as well have. He asked if my heart was engaged and if he might begin
the pursuit of it.”
“Oh my! That is good news indeed! And what was your reply?”
“I asked him to be patient.”
“Really? Whatever for? I thought you liked Sir Malcolm?”
“I do like him. I am just not sure if I wish to marry him. If I consent to a
courtship, it is likely he will propose, and I do not wish to have a scandal
come down round my head if I publicly court and then refuse him.”
“Why on Earth would you refuse him?” asked the countess in astonishment.
“I do not know!” Elizabeth responded, her voice bordering on hysteria. “That is
why I wish to know more about him and why I asked him to be patient. I cannot
honorably consent to a courtship if I do not think there is even a 
possibility
 of accepting a proposal,
and I cannot know 
that
 until
I know more about him.”
“Alright dear, I understand you, now calm down.” She handed Elizabeth a plate
of biscuits which she began nibbling on nervously while Lady Matlock gathered
her thoughts. 
“Let me see, where to begin... I first met his mother, Lavinia Granger, shortly
after I married Lord Matlock. She was a few years older than me and a very nice
woman. We were not of the same circle, but she had recently become engaged to
Sir Robert Rutherford and was in town for the season. She was not well received
at first, her family had fallen on hard times, but everyone eventually gave in,
as they always do. They just have to throw back their heads and howl for a
little while, but then they come round.
“She was a very bright woman. She used to hold salons in their townhouse during
the season. We would discuss art, literature; it was a very small group, but I
was fond of her and the discussions were stimulating. Sir Malcolm is the same
age as Richard, their fathers were at Cambridge together and friends for years.
He was always a sweet boy, though a bit mischievous. He and Richard would get
into some interesting scrapes together. Malcolm and Darcy became friends when
they were all at school together as boys. I believe they are still close.”
“Yes, I believe you are right.” 
Oh
Lord, this is not going to be easy.
 
“Anyway, he was a bit wild in his younger days, but what young men aren't? He
seemed to level out considerably when his father died. He was always close to
his mother, and he stayed by her side while she was grieving – it was quite
endearing to watch. After she passed on as well, no one saw him for well-nigh a
year, until Arabella came out. Their aunt handled everything, and I believe she
still advises him. But don't worry, dear, she is a friend of mine,” she said
with a wink and a pat on Elizabeth's knee.
Oh, dear.
“He is known as a good man, fair and honest, he's never been caught in any
underhanded dealings. Lord Matlock informs me he is not one for gaming or
drunkenness, which is important in a husband.” She raised her eyebrows
meaningfully. Lord Matlock hid behind his book, not wishing to be drawn into
the conversation and hoping his wife had forgotten his presence.
“I quite agree.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “So everyone agrees he is a nice
man without any skeletons in his closet?”
“I believe so, dear. I'll certainly keep my ears open and let you know if I
find out anything else.”
“Thank you, Lady Matlock. I think I'll have a short rest now. I'm rather tired
from my walk in the park.”
“Of course dear. And don't worry over much. When the right man is before you,
you'll know. You'll see it in his eyes.”
Elizabeth nodded and went upstairs, feeling a headache creep up her neck. It
wasn't until she was lying down that she realized the incident at the dinner
party had never come up. 
Oh, well. It
is likely immaterial after that conversation.
Lady Matlock turned to her husband. “You can come out now, Henry.”
Lord Matlock dropped his book and looked at his wife. “Whatever do you mean, my
dear? I have been right here all along.”
“And conveniently hiding behind your book.” She smiled wryly at her husband as
she rose and took his hand. “Come my love, I believe it is time to dress for
dinner.”
Lord Matlock looked at the clock and saw dinner was more than two hours away.
He smiled when he saw the gleam in his wife's eye. “Yes, I believe I will be
quite hungry this evening.” And he dutifully followed her upstairs.

~

Elizabeth looked at her closet, trying to choose what to wear. Lady Matlock was
out, and Jane was spending the afternoon with Miss Bingley, poor thing, so
there was no one to ask. She eventually settled on a lavender gown. She knew
Darcy had seen it before, but it was flattering to her coloring and the
neckline was just right; not so high it was prudish, but not low enough to be
garish. One of the housemaids helped her dress and fixed her hair in a simple
but elegant style. She put her pendant around her neck, grabbed her bonnet and
gloves, and headed downstairs. 
Darcy had said he’d pick her up at two, which she thought meant he would send
the carriage for her, even though it would take longer to hitch up the horses
than to actually drive the short distance. She looked at the clock in the
drawing room; it was ten minutes till two. Darcy was generally early and never
late, so she decided to go ahead and put on her things. As she was tying her
bonnet ribbons, the butler stepped in to announce Mr. Darcy. 
She looked up in time to see him striding into the room.
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Miss Bennet, you look surprised. Were you not expecting me? You haven't
forgotten our appointment, have you?”
“No sir, of course not. I am merely surprised to see you here yourself. I
assumed you would send the carriage.”
“I said I would pick you up, did I not?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Shall we then?” He held out his arm and she walked toward him, quickly
slipping on her gloves. 
As they stepped outside, she did not see the carriage. “I thought we could walk
today. Do you mind?”
“I believe you already know the answer to that, Mr. Darcy.” She smiled at him.
When they arrived at Darcy House, he ushered her into the library. Before they
could sit down, tea was brought in with a plate of lemon biscuits. She smiled
happily and began to serve the tea. As she handed him his cup, she asked if
Georgiana would be joining them soon.
“She is out with Richard. She’ll be joining us later.”
Elizabeth looked up in surprise, her eyes wide. They were alone – in his house
with no one but servants about. Suddenly her mouth went dry and her throat
constricted. She knew she should say something, but she couldn’t form words.
Was he going to declare himself? Was that why he had orchestrated this
meeting? 
But I haven’t decided! I am
not sure yet!
 
Elizabeth had mostly decided in favor of Mr. Darcy over Sir Malcolm for a
courtship, but she was not yet ready to commit to a marriage with anyone, and
she experienced the occasional moment of doubt over her decision. She still had
some lingering questions about what life would be like with him, and her
feelings had yet to outweigh her concerns. 
“Miss Bennet, are you unwell?”
“I am quite well, Mr. Darcy. Thank you.”
“Miss Bennet, I hope you are not overly distressed by Georgiana’s absence. She
intended to be here, but Richard stopped by unexpectedly and whisked her
away.” 
So he did not orchestrate this.
 Elizabeth
began to relax, chiding herself for overreacting. 
“It is quite alright, Mr. Darcy. I’m sure you and I can find a way to keep
ourselves occupied until her return. We are good friends, are we not?”
He looked at her intently, wondering if she had any idea of the effect her
words had on him. “Yes, Miss Bennet, we are good friends.”
She smiled and took a bite of her biscuit, slightly discomfited by his
scrutiny.
“Actually, that is something I wanted to speak to you about,” he said lightly,
looking around the room and ending on her face.
“What is, Mr. Darcy?”
“Our friendship, Miss Bennet.”
“Oh.”
“I was wondering if, hoping really… that you might... that you would want to
perhaps become even better friends.” He leaned forward as he sat on the edge of
the chair, his legs wide and his elbows propped on his knees.
“Better friends?” she echoed, a nervous feeling taking hold in her stomach.
“Yes. I know I have hurt and offended you in the past, and I know that you have
graciously forgiven me. I understand that trust must be rebuilt, and I would
like for us to have an opportunity to get to know one another better, for you
to get to know 
me
 better,
in the hope that you can fully trust me one day.” Elizabeth looked at him
wide-eyed, at a complete loss for words. “Because I fervently hope that one
day, hopefully some day soon, we will be much more than friends.” He looked
deeply into her eyes and Elizabeth forced herself to speak.
“More than friends?” she squeaked.
“Yes. Much, much more. What say you, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth stared at him, searching his eyes for she knew not what, but finding
sincerity and affection there.
“I think I would like to know you better, Mr. Darcy.”

Chapter
28

The following Friday, Mr. Bingley organized a picnic near the pond at the park.
Jane and Elizabeth, Georgiana and Mr. Darcy, Caroline and Mr. Bingley, and at
the last minute, Colonel Fitzwilliam, were in attendance. Rugs were spread
under a large tree near the water and servants laid out a large selection of
cakes, breads, and cold meats. Wine flowed freely and the group of friends
laughed and talked. Even Miss Bingley was somewhat pleasant, likely due to her
proximity to Mr. Darcy, who only tolerated her presence because he knew she
would be leaving early to attend a prior engagement with her sister. 
After nearly two hours had passed, Caroline Bingley was collected by Mrs.
Hurst, and Mr. Bingley spirited Jane away for a walk around the pond. Georgiana
went to feed the ducks with her cousin, and Mr. Darcy quickly sat next to
Elizabeth, who put down her book at his approach.
“May I assist you in some way, Mr. Darcy?” she asked him sweetly. 
He scooted nearer and answered, “Perhaps, Miss Elizabeth. Tell me, if a lady is
being courted by a gentleman, does she like to hear compliments?”
“I suppose she would.”
“Then may I say how enchanting your hair looks in the sunlight?”
“You may,” she answered softly, as her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.
Darcy smiled at her reaction.
“I'm going to enjoy courting you.”
“Is that what you're doing?”
“Of course. Hadn't you noticed?”
She looked at him wide eyed, then at her lap.
“Well, I am. Quite seriously.”
“I had noticed, Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly.
“Good. Do you still plan to leave for Hertfordshire in a week?”
“Jane and I will leave Saturday next. Then it will be little more than a week
until the wedding.”
“I imagine things will be very different after your sister is wed.”
“Yes, they will be. I will miss her terribly, but I am very happy for her,” she
said lightly, but with a hint of melancholy. “At least I know that she is
marrying someone she loves and who loves her in return. I believe she will be
very happy with Mr. Bingley.”
“I agree. They are well suited to each other and should make one another
happy.”
“I'm glad you think so, Mr. Darcy.” 
Darcy did not like the slightly serious turn the conversation had taken and
attempted to return to lighter territory.
“Come now, I think that is enough of this 'Mr. Darcy' business. I am beginning
to feel like a school master. Will you not call me by my name?”
She smiled archly. “Do you prefer Fitzwilliam or William?”
“I answer to either, though Fitzwilliam can be a mouthful. Only my closest
family calls me William.”
“Oh.” She took a deep breath and added, “I think it could be confusing having
you and the Colonel around and both being called Fitzwilliam. May I call you
William?”
“Please do. May I call you Elizabeth?” 
She felt warm under his steady gaze. “Please do.”
He reached his hand forward to where her hand rested on the ground. He gently
traced a line down her fingers and across her knuckles, and finally began
drawing shapes on the back of her hand. Her cheeks were a soft pink and her
neck felt hot. The nerves on the back of her hand were at full attention and soon,
her entire right arm was tingling.
“Elizabeth.”
She tore her eyes away from his tantalizing movement and looked across the
pond, at a squirrel running up a tree, at a child running down a hill in the
distance. She looked everywhere but at him. 
“Elizabeth. Will you not look at me?”
She shook her head vigorously.
“No?” He sounded amused. “Why ever not?”
She pursed her lips and looked to her left, doing her best to ignore the man
who was slowly driving her mad with his incessant drawing on the back of her
hand. 
“Are you angry with me?”
She shook her head. 
He continued his movements, using his entire hand to stretch out over hers as
each of his fingers raked slowly from the tip of her nails to her wrist. 
“Are you unwell?”
There was 
definitely
 amusement
in his voice now.
She squared her shoulders and shook her head.
“Are you angry with Fitzwilliam? He has been a bother today.”
She tried to hide her smile and again shook her head.
His hand now sat warmly atop hers, his thumb wrapping around her wrist and
stroking the delicate skin he found there.
“Did you know your skin is incredibly soft?”
This time her mouth quirked a tiny bit, but she was able to control her
smile. 
Again, she shook her head.
“It is. I must confess to you that I often wished to touch you last autumn when
we were in Hertfordshire together.”
She stiffened in surprise and barely stopped her mouth from gaping open. 
“What would you have done, had I simply reached out and touched your hand?” he
asked softly.
She remained silent, her eyes fixed on the water.
“Would you have slapped me for my impertinence?”
She pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, as if in thought, but
still would not look at him.
“Never mind, do not answer that,” he said with a grin.
“Elizabeth?” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, suddenly serious
and 
very
 close. “Do
you have any idea how lovely you are?”
One last time she shook her head, her movement small and slow.
“Well, you are,” he whispered hotly. “So, so lovely.” 
He traced his fingers up her forearm and down again. His touch was light, like
a feather, and she began to wonder if she had imagined it. Slowly, she turned
her head toward him and met his gaze.
And then she saw it, and suddenly, she knew. It was in his eyes.