In her bedroom, Elizabeth allowed the girls’ shared maid, Sally, to undress her except for her chemise. She laid down on top of the bed, pulling an extra blanket over herself, and thought about Fitzwilliam Darcy and his kisses, and how much she had enjoyed them and wished for more. Soon, truly worn out from the emotions of the day, she drifted off to sleep, a smile on her face.
Hours later, Sally woke Elizabeth, helping her to dress for dinner. A knock sounded on the closed door, and when Sally opened it, there stood Fitzwilliam.
“Miss Elizabeth is almost ready, sir.”
“Tell her I will await her here, in the hall, and will escort her to the drawing room.
“Yes, sir.” Sally carefully closed the door before returning to finish Elizabeth’s hair. Finally pleased with it, Sally nodded. “There you go, Miss Lizzy. You look wonderful.”
“Thank you, Sally. I am not as certain of that as you; black just seems to leach out any color I had, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but we have all seen how the younger Mr. Darcy looks at you, and I can promise he has not noticed any color you might or might not have. I would venture to say he thinks you a fine-looking lady, regardless of the color of your gown.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Very well, then. I suppose it a good thing for a gentleman to be willing to stare at his betrothed.” She stood, dismissing Sally and urging her to enjoy her own meal.
When she walked into the hall, Fitzwilliam stood beside the door, resplendent in a formal black coat and breeches. Surreptitiously, she looked him up and down as he bowed his greeting. He does look very well in his tailored clothing. She smiled at him and took his offered arm.
~~~***~~~
The following days fell into a pattern of sorts, particularly for the courting couple. Mornings were spent in individual pursuits, which for Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam meant long walks and frequent riding lessons, as both Fitzwilliam and his father insisted that she learn. The party broke their fast together, except for Mrs. Bennet, who was rarely seen before tea and who often retired once more following it. Then, everyone divided up, some packing what was allowed to go to the dower house, some continuing to go through Mr. Bennet’s things, which included the gentlemen of the party going through the accounts, and the rest taking turns with the mistress of the estate.
One morning, Fitzwilliam escorted Elizabeth to Oakham Mount. It was a much lower hill than a young man from the Peak District like himself expected, and he expressed that thought to Elizabeth.
“No, I suppose it is not terribly tall in comparison to peaks in other places,” Elizabeth remarked thoughtfully. “Of course, when I was nine, I thought this was the biggest mountain in the world.”
“Yes,” Fitzwilliam chuckled, “I felt the same about a hill at Pemberley.”
“Tell me about Pemberley,” Elizabeth requested as she sat on a wooden bench at the top of the hill. She ran her hand over the smooth wood. Her father had made this bench for her the summer she turned fourteen. She returned that hand to her lap, clasping it together with its mate, as her betrothed slipped onto the seat beside her.
“What do you wish to know?”
“Tell me about the highest spot on the property from which to view the estate, similar to Oakham Mount.”
Fitzwilliam was silent for a minute or two as he gathered his thoughts, plucking a tall piece of grass and smoothing it between his thumb and forefinger; then, looking out over the view, he began. “There is a ridge that overlooks the house. You can see for miles on a clear day. I like to go up there and sit. I often take a small meal with me, and perhaps a book, and sit under a tree and read. I love to watch the deliverymen and tenants coming and going along the drive below me, and try to count the number of sheep on the hill opposite.
“It is very peaceful, with evergreens and maples and any number of other trees filling the hillside behind me. The only sounds, other than the creak of the horses’ leather traces and a few coachmen speaking to their animals, are the sounds of birds in the trees, and sometimes a rabbit or fox.”
“It sounds like a wonderful place.”
“It is.” Fitzwilliam turned his attention to his companion. “I look forward to showing it to you.”
Elizabeth smiled at him. “I look forward to seeing it. Will you tell me about your sister? She is younger than you are, I believe?”
“She is. Georgiana is more than ten years my junior. She excels in music, and practices almost constantly. She is a good student, as well; Father hires the best tutors for her.”
Elizabeth was warmed by the pride in Fitzwilliam’s voice. “What subjects does she enjoy?”
“She is well-versed in history and literature. However, it is mathematics that she enjoys the most. She says there is a similarity between numbers and music that attracts her.”
“Mary has said much the same thing. I find it an interesting topic of study. Tell me,” Elizabeth continued, “what does your sister look like?”
Fitzwilliam had to think. He had not paid attention to his sister’s looks. She was just Georgiana, and his little sister. “She is a bit shorter than you, I believe; perhaps a head shorter. Her hair is blonde, like our mother’s. She is at that awkward age, where she is all limbs and clumsiness. I like to tease her about her lack of grace. I think she still prefers to run and jump outside, but she is always eager to please Father, which is what keeps her in the schoolroom. She loves horses; if we cannot find her at the instrument or with her governess in the schoolroom, we look in the stables.” Fitzwilliam chuckled.
Elizabeth joined in his merriment, hiding a giggle behind her hand. She was happy to see her betrothed’s fondness for his sister. It spoke well of his character. “Did she ever try to tag along behind you?”
“With such a great distance in age between us, no, not often. I made time for her whenever I could, before I left for school and when I was home between semesters. She means a great deal to me, to both of us.” Fitzwilliam finished softly.
“I think it a wonderful thing that you paid her special attention. She will treasure that always.”
“Do you do the same with your sisters?”
“With Jane, yes, and sometimes with Mary. Kitty and Lydia do not seem to want to spend time with me, or with Jane.” Elizabeth shrugged. “I try, and Jane tries, but Mama allows Lydia to have her own way, and Kitty follows merrily along. There is naught we can do to change the situation, so we have stopped making the effort.”
“I cannot imagine the circumstance you find yourself in, with three younger siblings, so I have no advice to offer. Perhaps, once we marry, we can host a sister or two now and then, and see if different expectations will lead to improvement.”
“I would like that. Thank you!” Elizabeth smiled at him, grateful he would offer such a thing when he had witnessed for himself how much a trial the youngest girls could be. “Will your sister be attending the wedding?”
Needing to keep his mind occupied and away from the temptation of her very kissable lips, Fitzwilliam did his best to keep the conversation going. “Yes, she will. Father sent an express to Pemberley two days ago. Georgiana and her governess, Miss Smith, should have departed Derbyshire this morning. We have not received a reply, so we do not know for certain, though. Is there anything else you would like to know?”
Elizabeth suddenly became very serious. “Is there-, are there other girls? Girls whose place I would be taking?”
Fitzwilliam shook his head, but realizing that she had looked down at her lap and could not see his action, lifted her chin with one gloved finger, and turned her face so he could look into her eyes. “No, there has been no one before you. There may be girls I grew up with whose parents have had an eye on me, but I am just now come of age. I have not seen most of them since I began at Cambridge. My father would not allow me to attend balls or parties; he said he did not wish for me to be exposed to the marriage mart before I had to. I chafed at times, feeling as though he wanted me to stay a boy and not become a man, but now I am glad for it, because I can honestly say to you that, though there may have been ladies with hopes, I do not know them. I have never danced with them or called on them. I have broken no one’s heart, at least not intentionally.”
“I am relieved to hear it. We are starting out with enough marks against us; there is no need for disappointed hopes.”
Fitzwilliam lifted the corners of his lips into a small smile. “May I ask about you? Are there young men in the neighborhood who have been waiting for you to grow up?”
“Most decidedly not, I assure you. Here, we are too well-known, and our circumstances are, as well. We dance many sets at the assemblies, especially Jane, whose beauty attracts gentlemen like flies, but dances do not equal suitors.”
“Good. My mind is at rest knowing I will not be required to face anyone on the field of honor.” Fitzwilliam’s lips twitched at his joke.
Elizabeth’s reaction filled his every wish. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, and let the subject drop.
~~~***~~~
That evening, Mrs. Bennet cornered Fitzwilliam as he was coming out of his chambers on his way to the drawing room.
“Young man, are you certain it is Lizzy you wish to marry? My Jane is everything proper and would make an excellent wife for a gentleman with a large estate. Elizabeth is lovely, but she reads too much, and her conversation is so odd. I would hate to have you burdened with such a wife when her sister is available and so much more appropriate.”
Fitzwilliam was unhappy with the implications Mrs. Bennet was making about Elizabeth, and even more unhappy that he had somehow allowed himself to be waylaid like he had. He took a deep breath to help him swallow his first impulsive words, which were sharp, and instead replied, in a much gentler tone than he thought the matron deserved, “Thank you for your concern, Madam, but I am quite certain that Miss Elizabeth is the one I wish to marry. Even without the legally binding betrothal that was already in place, I find her conversation delightful. The obviously extensive reading she has done has added a depth to her opinions that I find admirable. Not many of my gentleman friends can debate as well as Miss Elizabeth can. I find it invigorating. And, while her beauty is not the same as her sister’s, in my opinion, it surpasses Miss Bennet’s. The expression in her eyes and her ready smile draw me in and elevate her looks far above anyone I have met before. I do not wish to be crass, but as beautiful as your eldest daughter is, she does not attract me the way Miss Elizabeth does. My heart does not sing when I look at her the way it does when I see my betrothed. Again, I thank you for your concern, but I intend to marry Miss Elizabeth and no other. I am completely happy with my choice.” Fitzwilliam bowed at the end of his speech, and strode away as quickly as his long legs could take him, leaving his future mother-in-law with her mouth hanging open.
Well, she thought, I am not sure what exactly he said there, but it seems he likes Lizzy enough and is not worried about his estate suffering under her management. Still, it is not right for Lizzy to marry first, and Jane with no prospects! Well, there is still one unattached gentleman in this house, and of course, the heir. Wait! Does he not have a son? With these thoughts running through her head, Mrs. Bennet also made her way down the stairs, joining the group in the drawing room.
Mrs. Bennet moved her attention that evening from Fitzwilliam Darcy to his father. He was the same age as Mr. Bennet had been; this she remembered. He would be a good match for Jane, though he was a little old for her. As she observed him, she noted that he gave no lady any undue attention, except possibly Elizabeth, which was understandable, given that she was marrying into his family. Though she wondered why he did not pay attention to the girls, especially given Jane’s beauty and what she had long heard were the habits of the rich men of the world. Mr. Darcy’s wife had been dead for years now; she could not understand why he had not remarried and gave no indication that he wished to be.
Mrs. Bennet had met Lady Anne Darcy once, shortly after her marriage. She remembered the lady as a polite woman, though rather stuffy. She behaved as though she did not like Fanny Bennet, though Mrs. Bennet knew not why at the time. Fanny had asked her husband about it while they were travelling home. She had been required to pester him until he responded, because he did not wish to answer at first, but eventually, he had admitted that Mrs. Darcy’s sister had set her cap at him and was disappointed that he had chosen to marry someone else. Lady Anne and her sister, Lady Catherine, were very close, and undoubtedly, Lady Anne resented him and, by extension, his new wife.
“Oh,” was all Mrs. Bennet had responded at the time. She had been unhappy that he would expose her to such a situation in the first place, but she remembered his excitement at visiting his friend. At the time, she had wondered how future visits would go, but in the end, there were no more. Mr. Bennet never told her why, but invitations stopped coming. Fanny was relieved. She did not think she could again bear the coldness of Lady Anne Darcy with any equanimity, and the older she got and the more daughters she birthed, the more fraught her nerves became. It would have been a disaster, she was certain.
And now Lady Anne had gone to her reward, and her husband displayed no inclination to remarry, as far as Mrs. Bennet could see. Perhaps he is simply not aware that he needs a wife, she thought. I will promote Jane to him. She hesitated, bothered by the fact that he was so much older than her daughter, but in the end, the girl needed a husband, and that poor man needed someone other than Lizzy to run his home. Her mind made up, Mrs. Bennet spent the rest of the evening plotting how to get them together.
Instead of retiring immediately after supper that night, Mrs. Bennet remained downstairs. She did her best to arrange the seating in the drawing room to her satisfaction, urging Mr. Darcy to sit beside her Jane and encouraging Jane to show off her stitching and exhibit her singing voice.