Wilkinson waited at the study door until he heard his master grant him entrance. “Sir, there is a young lady at the door who is looking for her father. She came with Peters on his delivery from Lambton.”
George Darcy looked up from his work and removed his spectacles.
“Says her name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, sir. Wishes to know if her father and uncle are here or if she should continue on with Peters.”
“Is her father Thomas Bennet?”
“Yes, sir. That is the name she gave. Her father and uncle are among the gentlemen you expect this afternoon, are they not?”
Mr. Darcy smiled. “Yes, Bennet and Gardiner are both travelling with Matlock. You may show Miss Bennet to my study, Wilkinson.”
“Very good, sir.” Wilkinson disappeared for a few minutes and then returned followed by a young lady. She was a slight little thing with curly chocolate brown hair and expressive brown eyes. She looked to be about fifteen years of age, yet she carried herself with great confidence.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Wilkinson announced.
George Darcy rose and bowed as he greeted her. “Miss Bennet, welcome to Pemberley.”
Elizabeth curtsied and quickly studied the man who greeted her. His bearing was authoritative, yet his eyes were kind. His dark hair was speckled with grey, his figure was somewhat gaunt, and the stiffness of his movements acknowledged his pain. Although she did not know him, she felt sorrow for he was obviously in ill health.
Elizabeth seated herself in the chair to which the gentleman had motioned. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, but I prefer Miss Elizabeth. Jane is Miss Bennet.”
He nodded his acceptance of her request.
The smile which crossed her face and sparkled in her eyes was captivating. Her dress was that of a gentleman’s daughter to be sure, but her flushed cheeks and the few errant curls which fell from their pins indicated she had been engaged recently in strenuous activity.
“You accompanied Peters today?”
“Yes, sir. Maggie has taken ill, and there was a need for another set of hands to speed the deliveries. Mr. Allen agreed to let me travel with Mr. Peters until I reached Pemberley, then, I was to await my father and uncle while Mr. Peters continued on his route.”
“That is unusual work for a gentleman’s daughter.” Mr. Darcy thought of the many gentlemen’s daughters he had met. He could not think of one, beyond the one he had married, who would so happily exert herself to assist those of a lower rank without great persuasion. This young lady was special.
“My father is not a usual gentleman; therefore, I am not a usual gentleman’s daughter.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as amusement danced in her eyes.
Mr. Darcy watched as Elizabeth looked once again at the books which lined the shelves in his study. “Do you like to read, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Very much—which pleases my father but vexes my mother. My mother contends ladies who read too much hinder their chances of attaining a suitable match.” Elizabeth’s nose wrinkled of its own accord as if the thought of a good match was in some way repugnant.
A grin tugged at Mr. Darcy’s lips. Elizabeth certainly spoke her mind as freely as her father did. “And what do you think, Miss Elizabeth?”
“My mother would be sorely disappointed were I to answer that, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said playfully.
“Ah, but would your father be disappointed if you did not answer?” Mr. Darcy relaxed back into his chair.
Elizabeth laughed—a sound that wrapped its way around the gentleman warming him in its embrace. “Indeed, he would be, so as much as it will vex my mother, I dare not disappoint my father. I shall tell you what I think, Mr. Darcy, but only because you have insisted.”
She leaned forward a bit in her chair and dropped her voice as if sharing a secret. “I think any man who does not value the mind of a woman is not a man worth considering. How can such a match be good if the two are unequal in intellect? And, I dare say such a man would be found to be the more wanting of the two.”
A small chuckle escaped Mr. Darcy’s lips. “I believe you have the right of it, Miss Elizabeth. Your father would not be disappointed with such opinions. He has always been a bit of a revolutionary.”
“He is indeed.” Elizabeth’s face glowed with pride. “Many consider the word to be a slight, but I, as well as my father, consider it high praise.”
“As do I, my dear, as do I.” Mr. Darcy grimaced as he rose from his desk, a familiar pain shooting through his hip. “Would you like to see the library while you await your father and uncle?”
“I would like that very much.” She expected him to ring for someone to escort her, but instead, he stepped around the desk and offered his arm. “Oh, I mustn’t take you from your work,” she protested.
“I do not see you dragging me away from my desk, Miss Elizabeth. My ledgers shall still be here tomorrow, but you will not. Time must be spent on the items of greatest value, and the value of a person far outweighs that of an estate.”
“Your words remind me of my father,” said Elizabeth as she took his arm. “He says relationships are the foundation for the making of a great man or woman—but they are also the very thing which can ruin such an individual. One must be careful in choosing who is worthy of your devotion.”
“He has taught you well.” Mr. Darcy led Elizabeth down a grand hall that was lined with portraits.
Elizabeth watched him nod a greeting to each footman or maid as he passed them. It appeared no one was beneath his notice.
“These are your relatives?” said Elizabeth indicating the paintings.
“They are. Most of them are long departed, but at this end near the library, there are portraits of my children. They were commissioned just last year.”
“Do you have many children?” asked Elizabeth.
“Just two. A son, Fitzwilliam and a daughter, Georgiana.” He stopped before two paintings.
“They are beautiful,” said Elizabeth as she slid her hand off Mr. Darcy’s arm and stepped closer to examine the paintings.
“Georgiana would thank you for your compliment, but I dare say Fitzwilliam would bristle at being called beautiful.” Mr. Darcy chuckled.
A soft pink crept up Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Yes, a man cannot be beautiful, but a woman can be handsome. Men are such curious creatures.” She studied the very handsome young man in the painting for a moment. “He looks like you. Is he your height?”
“He is slightly taller.”
“So tall?” Elizabeth looked between Mr. Darcy and the painting. “And your daughter, is she tall as well?” Elizabeth turned to look at the youngster’s portrait. “She is very young.”
“She is not yet ten, but I fear she shall indeed be tall. While height is of no consequence in a man unless he possesses too little of it, in a woman it is a hindrance.”
“Unless she finds a man who exceeds her in stature,” said Elizabeth. “Is her mother tall?”
“She was,” said Mr. Darcy.
“She is gone?” asked Elizabeth softly, instinctively placing a comforting hand on Mr. Darcy’s arm.
Mr. Darcy covered her hand with his own and gave it a squeeze of appreciation. “Yes, for just over two years.”
He pushed open the heavy wooden door that stood in front of them. “This is the library.”
Elizabeth gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth as she took in the spectacular sight in front of her. There were shelves of books, hundreds, maybe thousands, which lined the walls from floor to ceiling.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, I had not imagined any house could contain such treasure.” She spun about taking in the whole of the room. “I am sure Pemberley has many beautiful rooms, sir, but I cannot imagine any of them can compare to this room. The only thing better than a room filled with books is a garden in which to walk while reading.”
Mr. Darcy smiled at her youthful exuberance. “Then you shall be very pleased with this room.” He crossed the room and opened a pair of glass doors leading into the rose garden.
Elizabeth sighed. “I could stay here forever.” She strolled about the room admiring the books.
“Mr. Darcy,” intoned Wilkinson. “Lord Matlock’s carriage has entered the drive.”
“Good, good. Show the gentlemen to my study when they arrive. I have some business to discuss with them before tea is served. I think we will take it in the yellow drawing room.”
Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “I am afraid I must leave you for a short time. Amos will remain with you, and Mrs. Reynolds will be along shortly?”
Wilkinson nodded his understanding and left the room to arrange for tea, show the men to the study, and send Mrs. Reynolds to the library.
“Do not be concerned about me, Mr. Darcy. I am among a great many friends who will entertain me.” Elizabeth pulled a book from the shelf, and finding a large chair, sank into its depth pulling her feet up under her.
Mr. Darcy turned to Amos. “You shall care for her as if she were my daughter. Do not allow her to venture into the garden without you, no matter how much she protests.”
“Of course, sir,” said the footman.
“You are a good man, Amos. A very good man indeed.” Mr. Darcy clapped the young footman on the shoulder.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Lord Matlock, Mr. Bennet, and Mr. Gardiner were already seated in the study when Mr. Darcy entered.
“Bennet, your daughter is in the library.” Mr. Darcy chuckled, a sound Matlock had not heard in years. “You may have a difficult time extracting her from there when you are ready to leave. She seemed quite content when I left her.” A smile spread across his face.
“Difficult?” huffed Mr. Gardiner. “Very nearly impossible is more accurate.”
“What is Elizabeth doing here?” asked Mr. Bennet.
“It seems Maggie was sick, and Allen allowed Miss Elizabeth to fill in on part of the delivery route,” replied Mr. Darcy.
“Allowed?” said Matlock. “More likely was persuaded. She is quite the picture of her father — a quick mind, a teasing wit, and a persuasive tongue.”
“But, she has the advantage of being a charming young woman,” added Mr. Darcy. “She is a fine young lady.”
“Indeed,” agreed Mr. Bennet.
“One of the finest young ladies of my acquaintance,” said Matlock. “Destined to be the mistress of a fine estate, I should think.”
Three sets of questioning eyes turned on him. His friends were not unaccustomed to his scheming.
“It is unfortunate Fitzwilliam is at Brantworth with his cousins. I should have liked for him to meet her.”
“What are you saying, Matlock?” Mr. Bennet’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“I am saying, I think Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam would make a good match. I have thought so for years.”
“Are you trying to arrange a marriage?” asked Mr. Darcy. “Did you not have a rather loud and lengthy falling out with your father about just that thing? If I remember correctly, you were against your sister Catherine’s arranged marriage.”
“I am not speaking of arranging a marriage, Darcy. I am speaking of making a match. It is my belief that when they meet, a marriage will follow. I have known Fitzwilliam since birth and Elizabeth since she was five-years-old. I know whereof I speak.
“Darcy, was I not right about Anne? Gardiner, did I not suggest you court Madeline? Bennet, was not your first meeting with Fanny arranged by me? And, I can guarantee you, gentlemen, I was absolutely right about my Victoria. Had father listened to me, Catherine might have been happy, too.”
“I will grant that you have an uncanny knack, Matlock, but a match which would tie your family to trade?” asked Gardiner.
“Trade?” Matlock snorted. “What peer of the realm has not done business with you or one of your associates? The ton would be foolish to criticize any alliance with you, Gardiner.”
“And what of Philips? He is only a country solicitor,” added Gardiner.
“Who is in the pocket of more than one powerful peer.” Matlock challenged. “I assure you I have given this considerable thought.”
Mr. Darcy scrutinized Matlock. “You are sure of this?”
“Quite sure.”
“I only wish that my children are happy, truly happy.” Mr. Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “My doctor tells me my time is not long. While I am saddened that I shall not see my children marry or hold my grandchildren in my arms, I cannot say that my life was unhappy. I was fortunate to have found love. That is what I wish for my children, a love match.
“If Bennet’s daughter is that for my son, I would not withhold my blessing. And, having met Miss Elizabeth, I do not doubt Matlock’s opinion. However, Fitzwilliam must not meet her now.” He sighed. “He shall soon have more responsibilities than anyone his age should have. A courtship, engagement, or marriage at such a time would not be wise.” He rose and walked to the window.
“My friends,” he said as he faced them, “you must promise me you will see that my children do not marry for anything less than love.” He turned away quickly. His chest pinched and breathing came slowly.
“If I might speak for all of us,” said Mr. Bennet as he moved to Mr. Darcy’s side and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “none of our children shall marry for anything less than love. I give you my solemn word, Darcy.
“As for a joining of our families, I am not opposed to the idea, but Lizzy is young. She is not yet sixteen. However, if, in a few years, neither of our children have married, a meeting could be arranged. Should that time come after you have passed on, Darcy, and if Matlock is indeed correct that theirs would be a love match, I shall happily welcome your son as my own. Does this meet with your approval?”
Darcy turned and clasped his friend’s hand. His throat was thick as he spoke. “Yes, Bennet, you have my approval.” He looked at the three gentlemen in his study and thought back to his time at Oxford when he had met Bennet and Matlock as fellow students, and Gardiner as a friend of Matlock’s from town. “I am so blessed. The good Lord surely knew what he was doing when he placed us all at Oxford at the same time.”
“Indeed, the Lord is good,” commented Gardiner.
Shaking his head to clear away the remembrances of times spent with these three men, Mr. Darcy steeled himself for the conversation which was to follow.
“Now to the remaining business for which I have requested this meeting. I have received the final copy of my will. I wish for you all to know its contents.”
The next hour was spent in reading the will and discussing Mr. Darcy’s intentions. “My children will need guidance. Fitzwilliam is young. To have the responsibility of an estate such as Pemberley and the care of his younger sister thrust upon him at his age is staggering. It eases my mind to know he shall have the guidance of Matlock and the support of my friends.” He sank back into his chair, the emotional strain of the meeting clearly etched upon his features.
“Sir,” said Wilkinson as he entered the room. “Miss Elizabeth would like to inform you that tea is waiting.”
“Not Mrs. Reynolds?” Mr. Darcy inquired of his butler.
“No, sir. Mrs. Reynolds thought the tea would survive a short wait, but Miss Elizabeth insisted lukewarm tea was only good for watering roses.” The stoic butler smiled. “It would not do to keep her waiting, sir.”
The four men laughed.
“Like I said, gentlemen, she is destined to be the mistress of this fine estate.”
Mr. Darcy thumped his brother-in-law on the back. “I pray you are correct, Matlock. I pray you are correct.”