Page 29 of Elizabeth in Scotland (Elizabeth and Darcy Abroad #2)

One unusually warm day found the Bennets walking idly through the grounds of Strathalt House.

Elizabeth plucked a branch of budding heather and twirled it between her fingers as they walked.

Her father motioned for her to give it over, and he deftly tucked it behind her ear.

“There, now it is as pretty as you, sitting behind your ear,” her father said.

She laughed as they continued on down the garden path toward the loch. It was a beautiful summer day, and she was growing melancholy at the thought that they would soon leave this magical place.

But there were other thoughts to distract her. “Papa, have you received any letters from home of late?” she asked.

“Only one, from your mother. And I already let you read that one.” He frowned. “Why?”

Elizabeth sighed, and she knew she could not conceal her distress from him any longer.

“I have received nothing from Jane since we’ve been here.

I wrote to her almost as soon as we arrived, and it has been weeks now.

She would have had ample time to receive my notes and send a reply.

” Indeed, Elizabeth had written four times and had got nothing from her beloved sister. “It is unlike her not to write.”

“Perhaps her reply was delayed, or even lost. We are far from home, and the post is a fickle thing, you know,” her father said comfortingly.

“I would not worry too much about it. From your mother’s letters, it seems they have all had their time filled with making calls on that intriguing Mr Bingley.

” Her father sighed and looked out over the shimmering surface of the loch.

“I would not be surprised if your mother has your sisters all married off by the time we return home.”

Elizabeth cocked her head to the side. “You do not seem saddened by the prospect.”

“No, not saddened. I do not think I will be sad to part with any of my daughters if they make good matches and are truly happy.” He gave her a sidelong glance, and she could see he was trying to conceal his emotions.

“I think you and perhaps Jane are the only ones I shall have a difficult time parting with.”

There was such regret in his tone. Elizabeth bit her lip, dismayed by his answer.

His youngest daughters were a trial; there was no denying that.

But her father must bear some responsibility for their bad habits and silly natures, for he had given them far more leeway than was good for them.

And then there was Mary, unjustly overlooked.

Her father ought to appreciate Mary for her scholarly nature, rather than dismissing her because she did not share his sense of humour and was sometimes over-serious.

“I have had a sleepless night, Lizzy, trying to solve this new riddle. I cannot make it out,” Mr Bennet said, obviously not wishing to further engage in so distressing a topic of conversation.

“I confess I have had no ideas either. Mr Campbell certainly is making us work for it.”

“It stands to reason, since it is the last clue and we are at a tie. I will be sorely disappointed if the estate does not come to us. Having Strathalt House would get a good deal off my mind that I must needs worry over.”

Elizabeth linked her arm through his, and they continued along the loch’s mossy shore together. “We are not destitute, Papa. Not yet.”

“No, but when I die, there will only be the thousand pounds for each of you. That will hardly get you through the rest of your lives in the comfort you have known up to this point. Having Strathalt would rescue you all from the hedgerow where you will end up when I pass, as your mother is fond of reminding me, and give you all the security that I so wish to give you.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Perhaps we may yet find another solution, as my mother has so long suggested to us. I think Mary and Mr Campbell would make a good match. They have much in common, for they are both rather serious and devoted to spiritual matters. I think they would do remarkably well together.” She smiled at her father.

He looked surprised, for likely the idea had never occurred to him.

“If you do win the estate, you must bring Mary with you as your companion next time.”

Her father laughed. “I agree. Well, it is very clever of you to see that match. You are well on your way to being as talented a matchmaker as your mother,” he teased.

His words had the desired effect, and she allowed her mouth to fly open in protest. “I am not in the business of matchmaking, you know that!” She shook her head.

“I only think of poor Mary sometimes, and think how difficult it must be for her to be the middle child, and so different from the rest of us.”

Her father held up his hands in retreat. “Very well, I shall not liken your pursuits to those of your mother. But it is sweet of you to think of our poor Mary. I fear she will have a difficult time finding a worthy husband if she is not helped along a little.”

His words were sharp, but not untrue. Mary had little inclination to improve her person or gain the skills that would make her more desirable as a marriage prospect, save for her accomplishment as a pianist. Many men would not see this as a virtue, especially when she neglected fashionable dress and genteel conversation.

Somehow, she felt Mr Campbell would not mind.

Everything she had seen of him suggested that Mr Campbell had the perception to look beyond the surface and understand that Mary was an exceptional young woman.

“I relent, my dear. You are not like your mother in that respect. I think you have only the best in mind for Mary, and the rest of your sisters.”

“I think my mother does as well, though her actions are somewhat misguided at times. It is because she cares so deeply for us that she insists on us finding worthy husbands to care for us,” Elizabeth said.

Admittedly, even such ends could not justify the lengths to which Mrs Bennet was willing to go.

Her mother let her nerves get the better of her and often resorted to manipulation to get her way.

And unfortunately, it seemed Elizabeth’s younger sisters were picking up those bad habits.

“You are good to say so, Lizzy,” was all her father said. “And now, my legs tire. I suggest we return to the drawing room for some refreshment.” Her father offered her his arm, and they headed into the house.

When they arrived in the drawing room, the Darcys had already arrived. Mr Campbell was also present and greeted them as they entered. “Any luck with the riddle?” he asked.

“No, we’ve not been able to unravel it, Mr Campbell,” her father said with a long sigh as he was seated in a plush armchair. “I must once again commend you on your powers of mind.”

“Thank you, Mr Bennet, you are too kind,” he said with a slight bow. “I was afraid you would find me out straight away. Perhaps you will yet do so, Miss Bennet.”

“Not I,” Elizabeth said with a short laugh. “I am just as stumped as my father, unfortunately.”

She did not add that she was glad that neither her father nor Mr Darcy had solved the final mystery yet, for it gave her more time with Miss Darcy.

No, I must be honest with myself.

Though she would never admit it aloud, Elizabeth knew the truth. The thought of parting from Mr Darcy was a still deeper ache.

Miss Darcy came and sat beside Elizabeth on the settee.

“We have just been discussing the upcoming London Season. I wonder if you might give me a lesson in dancing, Miss Bennet? I believe I have become more adept at conversation. And while I have had a few lessons in dancing, I wish to be more comfortable, so I might focus on engaging my partners. As you have said, that is the most important part of all.” She wrung her hands as they rested in her lap.

“I must confess, the idea of having to focus on the steps while making idle conversation terrifies me.”

“I would be happy to help,” Elizabeth said. “But it will be a little difficult, as one of us will need to play the pianoforte and the other will need to dance.”

“I would be happy to play for you, so Miss Darcy might practise,” Mr Campbell offered, rising from his chair.

“You play, Mr Campbell?” Miss Darcy asked, her face brightening.

“I do, although I am not nearly as skilled as you young ladies. But I believe I can make a fair job of it, if only for such a purpose,” he said with another slight bow. “It would be my honour to be of service.”

“By all means,” Elizabeth replied. She cleared her throat nervously, knowing her father’s views on dancing.

He would hardly be a suitable partner, for Mr Bennet never indulged in the pastime.

She glanced at Mr Darcy. He inclined his head, silently answering her question.

“Well then, shall we start a lesson now?”

“Yes,” Miss Darcy replied. “Fitz, will you step in as Miss Bennet’s partner, so I might watch first?” she asked.

He rose gracefully from his chair and nodded. “I should be glad to. I have never claimed to enjoy dancing, but I will certainly do my best.”

“We are not holding a contest,” Miss Darcy replied and nudged her brother closer to Elizabeth. Despite her best efforts at self-control, her cheeks grew suddenly inflamed by his nearness. And as he put his arm around her waist, she felt a slight gasp escape her lips.

Mr Campbell began to play a slow tune. While the simplicity of the accompanying dance was ideal for showing Miss Darcy how to engage in conversation with a dancing partner, it only made Elizabeth’s job more difficult.

She must not give in to her growing affection for Mr Darcy, for surely nothing could ever come of it.