Page 21 of Elizabeth in Scotland (Elizabeth and Darcy Abroad #2)

By the time three weeks had passed, Elizabeth found her love for Strathalt House increasing with every rising sun.

The quiet was much like her childhood home, but there was a certain mystery and excitement in being in such a wild country that brought her imagination to life.

Already she had written several pages of a novel that was shaping into quite an adventure.

She doubted anyone would ever read it, but it was a cathartic pastime that she would treasure for the rest of her life, something she could read again and again and remember this place with fondness.

Once, she had desperately hoped that her father might solve the riddles and win Strathalt House as a solution to the problem of the entail on Longbourn.

That need had not altered, and yet gradually Elizabeth had come to love Strathalt House for its own sake as much as for the security it represented.

And not least for the many happy hours she had spent working on her little novel.

A sudden thought made Elizabeth frown. What would her father say if he knew she was using her time for such an endeavour?

To have a daughter with a mind was one thing.

It was another matter entirely if she tried her hand at actually supporting herself like the infamous Mrs Radcliffe.

Of course, she would never dream of showing her little novel to anyone, save for Jane, perhaps.

Thinking of Jane made her brow furrow still deeper.

Her sister had not written back to her yet, even though Elizabeth had sent a letter upon their arrival at Strathalt.

It was very odd indeed, for whenever they had had occasion to be apart, even for a short while, they had written back and forth almost every day.

Mary had written, though they were not nearly as close, and yet Jane had not.

Had something happened? Elizabeth could not help but think that Jane was angry with her, inconceivable as that possibility sounded. Jane was never angry with anyone—or if she was, she never let it show or allowed it to make her treat people differently.

Elizabeth sighed and looked around the empty drawing room, thankful for some time away from all the hubbub. She was entirely alone except for Bruce, who dozed at her side, having begged for pets until he drifted off to sleep. He was a lapdog indeed, if one the size of a small pony.

A little time on her own with no companion other than Bruce was very welcome. No one had solved the riddle yet. It seemed that Mr Campbell had given them all a “stumper”. If neither her father nor Mr Darcy could solve it, they might live here together for all time.

She smiled at the thought of the Bennets and Darcys living under the roof of Strathalt House, sharing it. And in her mind, it did not seem a bad idea at all. Though she would miss her sisters, Miss Darcy was growing to be a dear, dear friend, nearly as close as a sister.

It was a wonderful dream, to think that they might split the use of Strathalt House.

But an unlikely one. Impossible, even. Her father would no doubt want to set aside the house as a place where the Bennets could find sanctuary after he was gone.

And Mr Darcy would no doubt want to add to his holdings.

Likely, he would see it as his duty to improve his family’s wealth and position, as other generations had done before him.

If no one solved the riddle soon, she was unsure what Mr Campbell would do — perhaps give them another. In the meantime, the steward had been familiarising her father and Mr Darcy with the estate, so whoever won the wager could take over immediately.

She furrowed her brow again, thinking of the riddle.

If only she could help her father to solve it, they might inherit and be on their way.

Much as she hated the thought of leaving Strathalt House and the Darcys, her worry over Jane and the rest of the girls made her almost wish to be gone.

What nonsense their mother had allowed in the younger girls while they were away, she paled to think about.

And Jane would not have checked them, for she could not bring herself to do it.

“Ah, here you are,” came a cheery voice from the drawing room door. Miss Darcy entered and closed the door softly. She joined Elizabeth in the sitting area with excitement written all over her features. “Our tartan dresses have been delivered.”

Giving Bruce one last pat on the head, Elizabeth stood. “Already? How wonderful!” she replied.

“Yes, the dressmaker’s note said that if there were any minor alterations that we needed, she would personally come out to the house and make them.

I suspect she would not object to a chance of seeing Strathalt House from the inside,” Miss Darcy said, taking Elizabeth’s hand.

“Come, they have been taken to our rooms. Let us try them on at once! And then we shall meet back here so we can admire each other.”

Elizabeth let out a short laugh, noting how very expressive Miss Darcy had become since the beginning of their “charm lessons”. They started toward the door of the drawing room. “Very well, let us try them on and then meet back here in a few minutes, hmm?”

They parted ways and went to try on their dresses.

Elizabeth stood in front of the mirror in her room, running her hands over the expertly woven tartan.

It was beautiful and soft, although thicker material than she would have chosen back home.

However, it was still surprisingly breathable and soft, and the sewing was second to none.

It would do well here in the cooler climate of Scotland.

The long sleeves would exactly fit what her aunt had written of the latest styles in London, and the high Empire waist made it both flattering and elegant.

It was well worth the money she had spent, even though it was most of what she had. Elizabeth was confident that she would get a great deal of use out of it.

She admired herself for a moment more, then went out into the hall to meet Miss Darcy. After several moments passed without result, she assumed she had already gone down, and went to meet her in the drawing room.

When she entered the drawing room, however, Miss Darcy had not yet arrived.

Elizabeth did a little spin to see the fabric billow around her.

She was glad now that Miss Darcy had suggested they both purchase a dress.

It would be a precious memento of her time here, all the more precious if her father did not win the contest for the house.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat from the far end of the room, and she spun around, her heart hammering in her chest. “Miss Bennet, how well you look,” Mr Darcy said, appearing from a darkened corner.

Heat flooded her face. “Mr Darcy, I beg your pardon. I did not realise anyone else was in here.” If only he had announced his presence sooner, before she had made a fool of herself, twirling like a young girl!

He came closer, looking her up and down with what she could only describe as appreciation. But how could that be? “The tartan suits you,” he said. “The dressmaker was right; it reminds me of the depths of the loch — so mysterious and enchanting.”

Was he calling her enchanting, or simply stating his opinion about the loch?

No matter the motivation, she found her heartbeat racing as he stepped closer.

“I must say how very grateful I am that you have taken Georgiana under your wing while we’ve been here.

I cannot tell you the difference it has made in her. She is blooming.”

“She is a sweet girl, and in truth, the friendship has been just as beneficial to myself. I have enjoyed her companionship greatly. I thought I would spend most of my time alone here, while Papa was tending to business.” She splayed her hands. “If I have been of any service, I am glad of it.”

“You do not give yourself enough credit. I cannot say what a change you have wrought in my sister. Since Wi—” he stopped. Clearing his throat, he took a different tack. “Suffice to say, it had been a difficult year for Georgiana. I thank you for being so open and welcoming to her.”

Elizabeth hesitated a moment before replying. “I think you give me more credit than is my due, Mr Darcy. Surely any role I have played has been of very little consequence. All I have done is give a little encouragement here and there,” she said at last.

“No, Miss Bennet. It has been much more than that. I will never forget your kindness. Nor will Georgiana.”

Elizabeth only smiled, at a loss for words. She suddenly realised that they ought not to stand so close to one another. The scene would look almost inappropriate if anyone were to stumble upon them at that moment.

“Are you well, Miss Bennet?”

She nodded quickly and took a step away. She was being silly, allowing him to affect her so. He was only being kind, for surely there could be no other motive for him to be so attentive.

Before Elizabeth was forced to betray her distraction through a reply, Miss Darcy entered the room. “Oh, Miss Bennet! You look absolutely divine!” she gushed. She took Elizabeth’s hands, beaming with delight. “You really do.”

“And you as well,” Elizabeth said, returning her smile.

“The colours suit you very well.” She glanced at Mr Darcy, who had just said something similar to her.

Yet his compliment had felt rather different.

Surely he could not have intended it to be as glowingly complimentary, as — as intimate — as it had sounded.

Miss Darcy continued to gush. “Does she not look splendid, Fitz?” she asked. Elizabeth felt heat filling her cheeks. Why was Miss Darcy pressing him to compliment her?

“Indeed, she does,” Mr Darcy agreed.