The Houseguest A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (9 page)

 
Chapter
7

Elizabeth had taken to sitting in the library the mornings she didn’t visit
Gracechurch Street. While Georgiana worked on her French, she would search
through the tomes for something she hadn’t yet read, and cozy up by the fire in
one of the large wingback chairs. The housekeeper had taken to bringing her a
cup of tea and a plate of lemon biscuits while she read. Elizabeth would always
thank her for her thoughtfulness and smile brightly, genuinely complimenting
the blend of the tea or the flavor of the biscuits. She even went so far as to
request that Cook send the recipe home with her to give to the Longbourn cook,
as she was sure she had never tasted better. Cook was so flattered, she sent
the recipe straightaway, and made sure Elizabeth was never without lemon
biscuits, and planned to send a tin of them home with her when she left.
Elizabeth had just finished a small volume of Wordsworth, and was now ready for
something different. Leaving her comfortable place by the fire, she headed to
the opposite side of the room and began perusing the shelves there. When she
turned, something caught her eye. Near the corner, there was a small patch of
wall not covered in shelves. There was a painting of a house hanging there,
simply framed. She stepped closer to look at it and saw that it was a large
stone house, with a lake in front and a small forested hill behind it. There
was a sense of serenity about it, and a natural beauty that was elegant, but
unforced. 
She was standing quite close to the painting now, and did not notice when the
wall behind it began to move until it nearly crashed into her, sending her jumping
backward, but not before it caught her foot with a stabbing pain. She closed
her eyes tightly and bit down on both lips, sucking in a painful breath, her
hands curling into fists at her side. She took a steadying breath and opened
her eyes to reveal a very stunned and horrified Mr. Darcy.
“Miss Elizabeth! I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were there. Are you injured?”
He felt terrible and was quickly at her side, not knowing what to do with his
hands, but clearly wanting to help.
“I shall be fine, Mr. Darcy. Wherever did you come from?” Elizabeth tried to
keep the irritation and pain out of her voice, but was not entirely successful.
“My study is just on the other side of that door. I came to get a book. I am so
sorry Miss Bennet, I-” she cut him off.
“Door?”
“Oh, of course. The door only opens from the other side, that’s why you won’t
have seen the handle. My grandfather had it installed so he could leave his
study without being noticed.”
“He did not wish to enter it without being noticed, as well?” 
“No, I guess not.” He half-smiled. 
Elizabeth began to hobble toward the fire, but he was by her side in a moment.
“Allow me to assist you, Miss Bennet.” He put a hand under her elbow and
steered her toward the chair. 
“I thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
“Not at all.” 
He helped lower her into the seat, then grabbed a small stool and placed it at
her feet. 
“May I?” He gestured to her foot.
Not sure what he was going to do, she nodded. He then gingerly lifted her foot
and placed it on the stool. Then he began to remove her slipper, keeping one
hand on her ankle, the other around her heel. As he slid it deftly off and
placed it on the floor, her eyes never left him. His face was turned down, but
she was watching him carefully. His hands were large and warm, but somehow
still gentle. She enjoyed the feel of his touch on her foot, and she began to
breathe more shallowly, not fully aware of her own physical sensations but
knowing that she liked his nearness and inexplicably wished for more. As she
stared at his unruly hair, he suddenly looked up at her, their eyes meeting.
His deep blue eyes were soft and fathomless and filled her with a warmth she
didn’t understand. 
Why is he looking at
me like that?
 She didn’t know what she was about, but she
couldn’t look away. As she stared into his blue depths, her expression went
from fascination, to confusion, to a welcoming understanding. The longer she
looked at him, the more she felt she understood him. Only not in words as much
as she 
felt
 the very
essence of him. He was so very open; there wasn’t a trace of the arrogance or
haughtiness she had come to expect.
He released her foot and sat in the chair opposite her. “You should be fine,
Miss Bennet. It shouldn’t swell too much if you keep it elevated.”
“I thank you Mr. Darcy,” she said in a small voice. They were both clearly
unnerved, but neither knew what to say next.
“I was looking at the painting in the corner. It is very beautiful. Where was
it painted?”
“In the music room.”
“Excuse me?”
“Uh, Georgiana painted it in the music room from an original I have in my
study. It is Pemberley.”
“Oh.” Again searching for words, she said, “Is it very like?” 
“Yes, quite, though without doing a disfavor to my sister’s talents, I think
the actual subject much more beautiful.” He had recovered himself, and was now
returned to his usual demeanor.
Elizabeth noticed the change and wondered what had happened or if it had all
been in her imagination.
“I shall have to compliment her on her work.” 
“Miss Bennet, please allow me to apologize again for coming upon you in such a
way. It was unforgivable. I should have thought and been more careful.” His
voice was steady, but his eyes were troubled.
“Do not worry yourself overmuch, Mr. Darcy. You are used to being on your own
with an unoccupied library, and even if you had known I was here, you couldn’t
have possibly known that I would be standing directly behind the door.” 
He looked at her sheepishly, feeling guilty for hurting her, and not wanting to
admit to knowing that she had been in the library and that he had come with the
hope of a quick glimpse of her. He always knew exactly where she was in his
house and was painfully aware of her presence at all times.
“Miss Bennet, can I get you anything, some wine perhaps?”
“It is a bit early for wine, Mr. Darcy,” she gave a small laugh, “but I shall
have a cup of tea. Would you like one as well? This blend is particularly
good.” 
She quickly leaned forward and began pouring her own cup of tea, then looked at
him questioningly. He nodded for her to continue and she poured him a cup as
well. She added a drop of milk to each, then a touch of lemon, and handed him
his cup on a saucer.
It usually annoyed him when people prepared his tea without asking him how he
liked it, but he couldn’t feel irritated.
“I hope you don’t mind Mr. Darcy, but this is really the best way. I should
know as I’ve tried several combinations and have discovered this one to be my
favorite, especially if you’re going to have a biscuit. They are remarkably
good,” she said as she cheerfully nudged the plate of lemon biscuits in his
direction. 
“Thank you for allowing me the advantage of your previous study, Miss Bennet,”
he said as he took a sip of the tea. His eyebrows went up slightly and he
looked at his cup appreciatively.
“Good, isn’t it? This blend is quickly becoming my favorite.”
How was it that he was beginning to feel like her guest instead of the other
way around? 
“You are quite right, Miss Bennet, this blend is delightful, as is the way you
have prepared it.” She nodded in response and ate her biscuit as they sat in
companionable silence for a few minutes.
“I gather you didn’t have any tedious meetings this morning?”
“Excuse me?”
“You did say that when you have tedious meetings, you are too tired to read,
and you were coming to fetch a book, were you not?” 
“Yes, I was,” he said, understanding dawning on him, “but I’m afraid I did have
a rather tedious meeting earlier. I would prefer another source of
entertainment, since the weather is not suitable for exercise,” he said with a
sly grin.
“And what sort of entertainment are you looking for, sir?”
“I was hoping to hear a story.”
“Shall I read to you then? I have found several lovely volumes of poetry.
Wordsworth is particularly fine on such a day.”
“I’m afraid I am not in the mood for poetry.”
“No? Shall I fetch ‘Fordyce’s Sermons’?”
“Miss Bennet.” He looked at her reproachfully, but with a hint of humor in his
eyes.
“What did you have in mind then, Mr. Darcy?”
“I believe you owe me a story, Miss Bennet.”
“So I do. Would you like to hear anything in particular?” God, he loved it when
she looked at him like that.
 Be
careful, Elizabeth.
 
“I should like to hear anything you should like to tell me.” 
“Hmmm, let me see. Would you like to hear about naughty little Lizzy, or
troublesome Elizabeth?”
“I think I’d like naughty little Lizzy best.”
“Very well, then.” She made a face as if thinking about something very
important, and then began. 
“At Longbourn, there is a tree near the edge of the estate where it borders
Lucas lodge. It is perfect for climbing. There is a branch that hangs down
particularly low to make it easier to climb up.” She gestured with her hands
and Darcy leaned back in his chair, his eyes in rapt attention, his hands
steepled in front of his mouth. 
“One summer, my father’s sister came to stay with us and brought my cousins,
Thomas and Michael. They were horrid boys, always stealing our dolls and hiding
them in tops of trees, strapping them to branches with our favorite ribbons.
Kitty and Jane would cry inconsolably, and they would just laugh at us before
their mama would make them give our toys back.
“One afternoon, our parents and aunt went to a party and weren’t due back home
till late that night. Jane and I were playing merrily when Thomas ran in and
stole Jane’s new doll. It had been a birthday present from our parents, and
she’d only gotten it the week before. It had a lovely porcelain face, with blue
eyes just like Jane’s and a lace gown. She loved that doll and carried it with
her everywhere, even sleeping with it at night. Which is why, of course, horrid
Thomas stole it in the first place.” She made a disgusted face and Darcy hid
his smile behind his hands.
“So Thomas ran off with the doll, shrieking that he would hide it where we’d
never find it. He passed it off to Michael and the two of them ran into the
pastures, towards the tree on the property line. We all ran behind them, Jane
and Kitty crying, Mary holding little Lydia by the hand. Of course they outran
us and were well into the tree by the time we arrived at the bottom. They had
fashioned a noose out of ribbons and put it around the doll’s neck, and there
she was, hanging from the tree.” Darcy clamped down hard on his jaw to suppress
a laugh and nodded for her to continue. 
“Well, you can imagine how it was. Jane was in a terrible state over seeing her
prized possession being executed, and there was Kitty, wailing in the
background, Mary trying to console her; it was quite a sight. They jumped down
from the tree and began taunting us, saying that we’d never get it down and
their mother wouldn’t be home until later, so we couldn’t go to her. The doll
would have to stay up there all night. Then they began talking about what would
happen if it rained and how the doll would be completely ruined. 
“Eventually, I had had enough. I told them that I would climb up into the tree
and retrieve the doll. They didn’t believe me and said that girls can’t climb
trees and even if they could, our skirts would get in the way. That was when I
got an idea. They were to be staying another month and we couldn’t continue
doing this every day, so I challenged them.”
“You challenged them?”
“Yes. I told them we would race to the top. If I got to the doll first, they
could not take any more of our toys and must behave like gentlemen the rest of
their trip. If they got to the top first, we couldn’t tell their mother about
any of this. We shook on the deal and they decided horrid Thomas would be the
one to race me, since he was taller and had longer limbs.
“I tied my skirts up around my waist and Jane counted us down. When she said
go, we both began to climb furiously, but I knew the way better.” She couldn’t
hide the air of pride she felt in her accomplishment. “I had climbed that tree
hundreds of times and knew exactly where to step. I had made it to the top and
was reaching for the doll long before Thomas. He was so angry with me, he
reached out to grab the doll from my arms, but I hit him with my elbow.”
She released a sigh.
“Unfortunately, he lost his balance and fell all the way to the ground. His arm
was twisted terribly behind his back and he was screaming in pain, and cursing
me with words I had never heard. Michael ran for Mr. Hill and the doctor came
and declared he had a broken arm.
“They couldn’t set it until our parents returned several hours later, so he was
given laudanum and laid in the kitchen crying and writhing in pain. Eventually
all was set right, but he ended up having to stay with us another six weeks
until the doctor declared he was ready to travel.”
She slumped back into the chair and exhaled loudly. “It was horrible! My mother
went on and on about how unladylike my behavior was and said that if I wasn’t
so wild, none of this would have happened. As my punishment, whether for
climbing or pushing, I don’t know, she made me act as Thomas’s nurse while he
stayed with us. I had to bring him tea and give him his medicine. Mother said
it would teach me how to take care of a man, which was what I should be doing,
instead of keeping my nose in books all day and climbing trees.” She rolled her
eyes.
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Learn to take care of a man?” he asked with a smirk and a glint in his eye.
“I hardly think a twelve-year-old boy can be called a man, Mr. Darcy,” she
replied with an impish smile.
He let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “No, he cannot, Miss Bennet. He certainly
cannot.”

Chapter
8

Tuesday morning rolled around, and Elizabeth searched
for something appropriate to wear to go shopping with Lady Matlock. She wasn’t
obsessed with ribbons and bonnets like Kitty and Lydia, but she was sensible of
the fact that she would be going to considerably nicer shops than she was used
to, and that Lady Matlock was a recognizable figure. She did not wish to look
like a charity case next to her. 
She finally selected a newer gown she’d had made only a few months ago. It was
pale green velvet with a simple scoop neck and straight sleeves that reached
just below the elbows, a narrow lace ruffle at the collar and sleeves, and
three tiny pearl buttons down the center of the bodice. It was cut a little
lower than she was used to, thanks to her mother, but it was very flattering
and made her merely adequate assets appear ample. Hannah put her hair up in a
simple but elegant coiffure, and Elizabeth declared herself ready. 
Lady Matlock picked them up at exactly eleven o’clock, and they were off. After
pouring over patterns and fabrics for hours, they had finally made their
choices. Georgiana’s dress was to be white, of course, and had a square
neckline that was high enough to be modest but not so high as to be prudish. It
had a sheer overlay and capped, puffed sleeves out of the same sheer fabric.
She had decided to wear a blue ribbon around her waist and more wound through
her hair. 
Elizabeth’s dress was also white, but her neckline was much lower, befitting
her age, and the bodice was crossed, creating a ‘V’ where the two sections met.
The sleeves were short and capped and trimmed in a very thin white lace.
Mindful of how much she was spending, Elizabeth wanted to keep it simple. Her
aunt Gardiner had told her to have the bill sent to them, but she didn’t want
to take advantage of their kindness and she knew this modiste would charge much
more than the one she typically used. Besides, she liked simple styles and
didn’t feel that overly done dresses and satin turbans suited her.
“Is your dress going to be white as well?” Georgiana asked her as she looked at
the different bolts of fabric.
“It is the proper thing, isn’t it? I must admit, I have always wanted to wear a
red gown. But mama says I am too young for such a strong color and that I can
wear red when I am forty.” She gave a short laugh and looked wistfully at the
fabric. 
“I think you would look lovely in red, Elizabeth! Maybe you can wear red
flowers in your hair?”
“Perhaps.” She carefully fingered a white silk fabric in front of her, then the
red one next to it.
They made a few more stops; at the glovers, they each bought a pair of white
satin, elbow-length gloves, and at the boot-makers, they looked at new dancing
slippers. Elizabeth declared her old ones were fine and in no need of
replacement, but Georgiana picked up a pair of delicate satin ones that were
embellished with pearl beads.
After handing their purchases to the footman, the three ladies headed off in
the direction of the bookstore. Elizabeth wanted to pick up a gift for her
father, and Georgiana was looking for something for Darcy’s birthday, which was
coming up in March. 
When they stepped inside, Elizabeth saw a tall man with jet black hair, a
handsome face, and arresting blue eyes. His skin was pale in contrast to his
hair and his nose was long and straight, giving him a somewhat angular look
that was not unattractive. He looked at her and smiled, as if he knew her. She
recognized him from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place him. 
“Lady Matlock! Miss Darcy!” the man exclaimed.
“Sir Malcolm, how nice to see you again.” Lady Matlock smiled and he bowed over
her hand.
“Sir Malcolm, allow me to introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Bennet, this is
Sir Malcolm Rutherford. He and Mr. Darcy were at Cambridge together and our
families are old friends.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Bennet,” he bowed over her hand.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Malcolm.” Elizabeth curtseyed
slowly, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks from the way he was looking at
her. 
He bowed over Georgiana’s hand as she whispered a greeting and turned back to
Lady Matlock.
“Are you ladies shopping for anything in particular?”
“Miss Bennet is looking for a gift for her father, and Miss Darcy looks for
something for her brother. His birthday is in a few weeks.” 
“May I assist you in your search?” he gestured to Elizabeth. 
“Of course.” He and Elizabeth walked toward the back of the store to the area
designated for histories while Georgiana and Lady Matlock went to see the first
editions.
“Will you be attending the Matlocks’ ball, Miss Bennet?”
“Yes, I will be. And you, sir?”
“Yes, I am planning on it. Our families are very old friends. My father and
Lord Matlock were at Cambridge together, as were Darcy and I.”
“I see,” she said noncommittally. Sir Malcolm seemed nice enough, and was just
the sort of engaging, amiable man Elizabeth usually liked to converse with. However,
her recent experience with Mr. Wickham made her leery of strange, charming men.
“Are you staying with the Darcys?”
“Yes, Miss Darcy is a friend. How did you know?”