Page 5

THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY

M iss Elizabeth Bennet.

She read her name silently, then aloud. Elizabeth had never seen her name written so exquisitely.

Certainly, she had never received a proper invitation to a house party on a faraway estate.

Dinners and card parties, holidays with her aunt and uncle Gardiner, and visits to see Charlotte Collins were nothing to this.

Lady Aurelia Ferb-Uxbridge requests the pleasure of your company for a House Party at Matlock Court, Derbyshire. An answer is requested.

“Oh my,” she whispered.

Darcy had written to her, telling her to expect an invitation from Saye’s sister and urging her, begging her to come. It all has been planned to facilitate my cousin Saye’s wooing of the lady he hopes to wed, and allows us time together in company.

In company. How she would love to spend time with him in a small society, in a setting where she could become acquainted with his friends and relations. Conversation and companionship with ladies and gentlemen of education and experience in the world. Humour, even, if she were fortunate.

Who would be at Matlock? She was acquainted with Colonel Fitzwilliam; he was enjoyable company.

Elizabeth had imagined what his brother, Lord Saye, might be like—and how he might differ from his brother—based on Darcy’s comments on his cousin’s dedication to fashion and disinclination to suffer those he did not like.

She could only hope the latter would not apply to her.

Their sister, Lady Aurelia, was somewhat older than she and had been well-married the past three years, but Darcy had never mentioned other ladies to her—good manners would preclude any such comment.

When Elizabeth pressed him on how he ever came to fall in love with her , Darcy was adamant in his assurances—before he met her, he had never noticed another woman’s eyes or figure and had never endeavoured to determine a lady’s mood from a smile or expression.

Elizabeth smiled just thinking of his ardency in convincing her of his devotion.

This house party provided a wonderful opportunity to convince him of her devotion.

More so, it was an escape from the monotony of Longbourn, an opportunity to meet the sisters and future wives of those gentlemen with whom Darcy associated—creating friendships and alliances with members of the ton who mattered most to her future life.

After all, if she could not yet be married and be mistress of Pemberley, a house party with Darcy—in his home county, at his uncle’s estate—offered her the next best thing.

She might even gain a bit of the town bronze that Miss Bingley thought deficient in the Bennet sisters. Darcy would laugh at such a thought.

She bowed her head. Oh how she missed him.

After finding perfect harmony with Darcy, enjoying felicity and conversation neither had enjoyed with another, Elizabeth now found herself more alone than she had ever imagined.

She had been too long at Longbourn, in a household she had outgrown, without good company.

Jane was occupied at Netherfield with her new husband; Mrs Bennet was idle and vexed that Elizabeth’s wedding was delayed; Mary and Kitty were often at odds; and her father’s companionship had grown wearisome.

He had kept her at home, with infrequent visits from Darcy in the weeks they had been separated.

Of late, Mr Bennet was in mercurial spirits, as likely to permit as to deny her request to attend Matlock.

But what was a fortnight of pleasure and society to her father when he knew he would have her returned for close to another month afterwards, bursting with stories that might amuse him?

After Lydia, how could he deny me this? I have never disappointed him.

Elizabeth rose from her chair, equal parts excitement and trepidation, and glanced into the sitting room, where her mother and Kitty were sewing.

Mrs Bennet would champion her request, but Elizabeth was just as aware that her father’s intransigence would only deepen if confronted by his wife’s demands and histrionics.

I am not the green girl he thinks me to be, but neither should I have to plot and scheme to get his approval.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked and entered his library. Mr Bennet looked up from his book and smiled. “Come in, Lizzy. I have wished to laugh with you about Kitty’s unfortunate encounter with Mrs Goulding’s angry rooster.”

With no desire to hear her sister mocked yet again, Elizabeth closed the door and walked over to the desk, piled high with unopened ledgers and letters. “Papa, I have something to ask you.”

Mr Bennet’s eyes fell to the letter in her hands. “What have you there?”

Once the words ‘house party’ and ‘Darcy’s cousin’ were spoken, Elizabeth’s plans for discussion, debate, and negotiation found no purchase. Her father peered closely through his spectacles at the card she had given to him.

“Lady Aurelia, or perhaps her maid, has a fine hand, but yours is nearly as fine. You will impress her when you write to her and decline the invitation.” He took off his eyeglasses and began polishing them with his handkerchief.

“You will be part of such society soon enough. There is no reason to rush yourself into such dreadful company. ”

Astonishment at his blithe dismissal coursed through her. “This ‘dreadful company’ includes Darcy’s cousins, who will soon be my family as well.”

“Soon enough.”

“You must see that declining such an offer will offend Lady Aurelia and my future relations.”

“Those who dwell in the ton ’s top spheres are accustomed to the eccentricities of country folk.

” Mr Bennet smiled at her in a sardonic manner that Elizabeth knew all too well.

“Have patience, Lizzy. A little time apart cannot dampen the ardour of true love, only strengthen it. What is another six weeks at Longbourn with your family?”

“Exactly. What is the purpose of another six weeks here? There is no reason in what you ask of us with this delay. We are in?—”

Mr Bennet waved away her protestations. “In love, yes, yes, of course. But Mr Darcy is asking too much too soon. We have an understanding about your understanding.”

“As I see it, Papa, this ‘understanding’ of yours feels more like an excessive imposition.”

“Lizzy—”

“Not even the thought of my collecting amusing stories about the ridiculous conceits of the rich and ridiculous can tempt your consent?”

“I anticipate years of amusing stories from you.” Mr Bennet folded his hands across his stomach and tapped his thumbs together. His own earlier amusement was gone, replaced by mild irritation. “Lizzy, I will not have you be missish.”

“Do not worry, sir. I shall write the reply you require.”

Yes, she would write to Lady Aurelia, but that letter could wait. Surely her mother would have much to say on the beauty of the invitation, among other things.

“Devil take it!”

I am so sorry, dearest. Under the terms of our understanding with my father, I am not to join you and your family at Matlock.

How dare a man as indolent as Mr Bennet set rules and restrictions on his daughter’s future with the man she loved? Where had this paternal figure been when his youngest daughter ran off with an unrepentant reprobate?

Darcy’s eyes traced again the words Elizabeth had written.

How could her father, whose similarity to his detestably officious cousin Mr Collins was becoming ever more apparent, deny Elizabeth this opportunity?

He disdained town and society and was ensuring his favourite daughter had no chance to make the acquaintance of those who would like her and support her in her transition to becoming Mrs Darcy.

Not only did Bennet hold firm to his ridiculous belief that Darcy would lose interest in Elizabeth once he made her his wife, he now denied his daughter her rightful place at a house party of reputable single ladies and gentlemen.

Did Bennet not consider that rumours might arise at this furthering distance between himself and his unknown country girl?

Could he engineer a way to get her there, out from under her father’s thumb?

“I should ride in and sweep her away on my horse.”

Furious and frustrated, Darcy stalked to the window and stared outside.

He had too many thoughts to sort and dreams to rearrange.

As he knew from experience, much could happen at a house party composed of unmarried men and ladies, and Matlock held such promise for he and Elizabeth to have time alone to talk, to more closely acquaint their hearts and minds and?—

And now—nothing would happen. Saye would gad about romancing his lady, Clarke and Withers and Fitzwilliam would flirt and charm their way through the days and nights, and he...well, perhaps he would simply not attend. Fie on them all.

Bang.

The door flew open. Fitzwilliam burst in, looked at Darcy, and grunted. “What is the matter?”

“A letter from Elizabeth. She is unable to attend the house party.”

Fitzwilliam let out a slow whistle. “That is news of the worst sort. Truly, she will not be at Matlock? ”

“Yes, that is what I said. Denied, refused, deprived of company but for the perversions of the selfish man in the study.” Darcy sighed heavily. “If she is not at Matlock, I shall not go either.”

“My brother will have your head.”

“Saye is averse to violence.” Of course, his cousin would likely throttle him at least as violently in words as he wished to do to Mr Bennet. He watched Fitzwilliam stalk around the rug, muttering.

“Is this the work of Mr Bennet, or has Elizabeth come to her senses and thrown you off?”

Fitzwilliam’s drollery, familiar enough in any battles of wits over the years, did nothing to lighten Darcy’s mood. “Do you desire I explain the inexplicable about my future wife or satisfy your wish that I am returned to the ranks of lonely bachelors and willing to suffer long evenings with you?”