Page 21 of Count the Cost (The Secrets of Elizabeth Bennet #2)

D arcy looked up at the facade of Horston Grange, the house where he would be staying for the next ten days. He hoped very much to discover several amiable acquaintances, or the time would pass exceedingly slowly.

Uncle Henry had thought it might be a small party — perhaps ten or fifteen guests, with local people arriving for the ball on the last evening.

With the family, it would make no more than twenty to dine, he supposed.

There might be more men than ladies, if the daughters were to dance and practice their coming-out accomplishments.

It would mean there would be music, perhaps.

Two or so hours later, he was in the billiards room with Talbot, who was there as he had surmised. The door to the hall was ajar, and they listened desultorily to the occasional arrival of more guests.

“Ah, Lady Palmer!” The rather shrill voice of their hostess pierced the room and Darcy winced.

How would the daughters fare with a mother so strident?

His mind went back to Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet’s voice and over-enthusiasm would have frightened many suitors away from her daughters — even the admittedly lovely Miss Bennet.

It was to be hoped Bedford’s daughters would not suffer the same fate.

He watched idly as Talbot lined up the next shot. Was Miss Elizabeth declining marriage because she believed no one would wish for Mrs. Bennet as a mother-in-law? It was certainly a disadvantage.

“Remind me who Lady Palmer is?” he asked Talbot as he listened to the cut-glass, top-drawer accent of the latest guest.

“Mmmm?” Talbot potted the next red ball, and looked up. “Lady Palmer? She is the dowager Countess of Abingdon. Surely you know of her? Her grandfather was the late Duke of Durdar — third duke. I believe we are onto the fifth now.”

The murmur of voices in the hall continued, and Darcy stiffened.

There was another voice, fairly muted, but surely, surely a voice he recognised?

He forced himself to walk around the table, gauging which shot would be best when it was next his turn.

He must certainly not go running out into the hall because he thought he’d heard Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s voice.

She was in town with her aunt and uncle; not here in Warwickshire, with a dowager countess who was also a duke’s granddaughter.

He smiled wryly to himself. He was just going to have to work harder to forget her, whatever Richard said.

His next shot sent the white ball spinning into the far pocket, and Talbot laughed. “I really ought to have forced a wager, Darcy. You are so inattentive, it must be the only chance I’d have of winning.”

Darcy grimaced, glancing at the clock. It was still a while before he could decently retire to his chambers to bathe before dinner. He placed his cue down. “Should we send for a drink before we go upstairs?”

“You don’t want to finish a game you can’t win, I suppose?”

“Indeed, I concede it to you, Talbot. I apologise for my inattention. I am distracted today.”

Darcy descended the stairs, knowing Maunder had excelled himself in clothing him tonight, and hoping very much that it would not mean he would catch the gaze of any unmarried young lady.

He could hear a low hubbub of voices in the drawing room and judged he was about right in timing his entrance. He would not stand out overmuch.

His gaze swept the room as he turned through the doorway — and froze at the sight of …

“Miss Eli… Bennet!” He could not help himself.

He crossed the room and bowed at the sight of her, sitting on a sofa beside an older woman on an upright chair.

The colour had drained from her face; she could not have expected to see him any more than he could have imagined her here.

But she gathered herself together and rose to curtsy.

“Mr. Darcy.” She turned at once to the lady beside her, and they both gave each other a significant look before Miss Bennet spoke to her.

“My lady, may I present this gentleman of my acquaintance to you?”

The lady looked him up and down with an astute expression. “Of course, my dear.”

My dear ? Who was she to Miss Bennet?

“May I present Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire? I met him when he was staying at the estate of his friend near my home in Hertfordshire a few weeks ago.” Miss Bennet then turned to him.

“Mr. Darcy, may I present my great aunt, Lady Palmer, the dowager countess of Abingdon?”

Great aunt? Miss Bennet was related to the granddaughter of a duke and a dowager countess?

Darcy was almost too discombobulated to bow.

Fortunately, he regained his senses to bow and greet the lady, who nodded in acknowledgement.

Then he turned back to Miss Bennet, who was impeccably dressed in an evening gown of deep emerald shot through with gold threads, with only a delicate gold necklace for adornment. She was beautiful.

“Miss Bennet, it is a great pleasure to meet you here.” He bowed again to her, and wondered if he might take a seat nearby. But he wasn’t quick enough. His host and hostess appeared beside him.

“Darcy, I was intending to introduce you to everyone, but I see you know Miss Bennet. Quite the coup, I daresay.” Lady Bedford was looking at him with a calculating air.

Perhaps she had plans for one of her daughters, and he repressed the urge to grin.

But he could not stay beside Miss Bennet.

The Bedfords bore him away to meet the other guests who were already downstairs, and he glanced back to see the two ladies with their heads close together in earnest conversation.

Had Lady Palmer wished Miss Bennet would not know anyone here?

And how long had Miss Bennet known she had such high connections?

It must mean the aunt and uncle in trade were also well-connected.

His head spun. He must concentrate on these introductions and then he would sit by Miss Bennet as soon as he could.