Elizabeth stood on the low stool in the salon as Madame Kent’s seamstress set to work pinning and smoothing fabric all around her. The woman was deft in her work and Elizabeth was delighted to have never felt a prick from the numerous pins.
Miss Darcy chattered on about how all their lives would change now that Elizabeth had taken Fitzwilliam House, especially that of Lady Matlock. “I believe she may eventually enjoy having a daughter in the family. And I shall sing your praises so that she cannot speak against you so often with family. Once she knows you better, Aunt Margaret will come to love you as William and I do.”
Elizabeth stepped down from the stool after a nod from the seamstress. “I am certain your brother holds me in some esteem as the widow of his dear cousin, but love is a strong word Georgiana.”
Elizabeth felt strange using the young lady’s Christian name but as she was indeed related to the Fitzwilliams and Darcys, it was expected.
Miss Darcy made her final selection of fabrics for the modiste and beckoned Elizabeth to make her choices so they might sit for tea and speak of the new addition to the Bingley household. “I do wish we might see Miss Sophia this day but William would never allow it.”
“You may come and visit in the next day or so. I do not expect Jane will observe a month of lying in, she simply refused it with Rose.”
Miss Darcy’s countenance brightened. “Such wonderful news! I expect she did so as well with young Thomas?”
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip and looked down at her slippers. The tea cart arrived then and she was grateful for the timely interruption.
She turned her attention to Madame Kent and her assistant as they gathered their things. Miss Darcy went to them and Elizabeth remained seated as they quit the room.
Providence had kept her from telling a lie to Miss Darcy and she closed her eyes in thankful prayer. Never in her life had she been fond of subterfuge, not even the kind employed to make a match between a young lady and gentleman.
The time she might be able to keep the secret of Richard’s only child seemed shorter the more she came to know the Darcy family.
Before Miss Darcy might return, Mr. Darcy appeared at the door. He glanced about and stepped over the threshold as Elizabeth stood to greet him. “I see it is safe to enter my own salon.”
“Yes sir, it is. The modiste has just left.”
Mr. Darcy saw the tea service and quickly joined Elizabeth. “You must call me William, or Fitzwilliam, whichever you prefer. Sir and Mr. Darcy are reserved for business partners, strangers, staff, and acquaintances.”
He sat across from her and Elizabeth attempted to calm her racing heart. He was more handsome to her eyes today than in days before. “I suppose you are correct, William. Though your aunt and uncle might have something to say about it. I do feel as though I am a part of the Darcy family, truly. You and your sister have made me most welcome.”
Miss Darcy entered the salon and hurried to her brother’s side. She placed a hand upon his shoulder and bent to kiss his cheek. When she stood again, she went to sit with Elizabeth. “Richard was our favorite, Elizabeth. Just as you are becoming the more we know of you.”
Elizabeth felt the heat rise in her cheeks. After her disastrous meeting with the Matlocks, she had not expected to find friendship nor a welcome amongst Richard’s family but the Darcys had come to her side. “I cannot say how pleased I am to know it, Georgiana. It is not so simple a matter for Lady Matlock, but I shall do my best to prove my worth to her.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled at this. “The Elizabeth Bennet I knew in Hertfordshire would not have cared what Lady Matlock thought of her.”
“I fear that young lady is long since changed, William. The years between our last meeting have been kind and cruel in turns. I am able to see what the pain of loss can do to a person.” Elizabeth sipped her tea and glanced away, her heart twisting at the somber note she had introduced into the moment.
“Certainly the two of you have more in common than my aunt might believe. The love of my cousin comes to mind. Richard did have a way of stealing hearts without a second thought.”
Mr. Darcy’s words touched Elizabeth. “He was imminently suited to a life of admiration from those around him. Richard thought as much of his soldiers as he did the highest peer. A purer heart cannot be found.”
Except within our son, Elizabeth thought, as young Richard so reminded her of his father at times.
Miss Darcy sipped her tea. Her face brightened and she led the conversation to happier topics. “Madame Kent shall have our dresses in two weeks’ time, Elizabeth. I asked that she deliver yours to Fitzwilliam House. Your sisters should surely arrive soon with the birth of Miss Sophia.”
“I must send a letter this very afternoon. I had almost forgotten. I must go.” Elizabeth stood, her countenance regretful. The truth was she did not wish to speak more of Richard. It would be too easy to reveal her son.
Mr. Darcy rose as well. “You must not leave so soon, Elizabeth. We would not keep you from Charles and Jane and the new babe, but you are welcome to the use of my study if you wish. I could have the letter delivered by express. It would be an honor to perform such a service for my friend Bingley.”
Elizabeth could not refuse him the opportunity to pay a favor to the Bingleys and so she followed Mr. Darcy to his study to write her letter.
The room was much like the study her Uncle Gardiner kept in his townhome, dark wood and the scent of leather ever present. Correspondence was piled neatly awaiting perusal and signatures. The fire crackled faithfully and served to make the intimate space more comfortable.
Mr. Darcy pulled out the large chair behind the desk and removed the pile of papers. “I apologize for the disarray. I never leave my desk in such a state, but today I rushed out when I heard the fittings had ended. I did not wish for you to go before we might speak.”
Elizabeth sat gingerly, her countenance one of curiosity. “I did not know you had news for me, William.”
Mr. Darcy placed a few sheets of thick, cream-colored paper before her. “There is no news. I only wanted to find whether there was something I might do to make Fitzwilliam House more comfortable for you. I could send to Longbourn or Netherfield for any thing you might wish to have brought here. But perhaps your family might do that service for you.”
Elizabeth was touched by his thoughtfulness. Dipping the pen in ink, she set about her letter. Raising her head after a moment, she looked up at Mr. Darcy. He had not moved away. “I am honored you thought of such a thing as my comfort. I would not like to be a bother. It is not in my nature to expect such favors.”
He moved then, stepping back to allow her the privacy to continue her letter. “And that is precisely the reason I wish to do such a favor, because you do not expect nor demand it, Elizabeth. You are a rare lady amongst your sex.”
She smiled at him, the spark of merriment from happier days appearing in her eyes. “I thank you for the kindness and for thinking more of my character than perhaps you ought.”
Her heart squeezed as he sat and pinned her with his gaze. Mr. Darcy had no idea he was being deceived and she despised the dread that rose in her breast. She would not like to hurt him or Miss Darcy, but her dedication to her son was stronger than her tenuous bonds to this family.
Mr. Darcy nodded to the paper beneath her hand. “Please finish your letter, Elizabeth. Your sisters shall have a better future now that you have come to London and claimed your place in this family. You are a Fitzwilliam and there are doors open to you now that were closed before.”
Elizabeth forced herself to write as she wondered at Mr. Darcy’s words. He was opening a door wider to her with each passing day.