Page 9 of Elizabeth in Scotland (Elizabeth and Darcy Abroad #2)

Elizabeth was fuming by the time she and Miss Darcy left the drawing room.

It was not the young woman’s fault, of course.

If anything, she deserved to be treated in a particularly gentle manner, for it was a pity that such a quiet young woman would have to put up with such a brute for a brother.

“Here it is,” Elizabeth said as they rounded the corner of the second floor’s eastern wing.

She walked past the door to her own guest room and opened the door of the second room. “This will be your room.”

Miss Darcy entered ahead of Elizabeth and took in the room with appreciation, much as Elizabeth had done the day prior. “It is beautiful,” she replied. “Thank you very much.”

“Would you like me to help you unpack your things?” Elizabeth asked.

It was not her responsibility, but she did not mind.

And she was eager to make friends with the young woman, glad that she would have a companion of around her own age and of her own sex.

She did not think they would be in Scotland for very long.

Even so, it would be nice not to be the only gentlewoman at Strathalt House while there.

“That would be most helpful,” Miss Darcy replied.

They went to the trunks, and Elizabeth opened the lid of the first and largest one.

Inside, Miss Darcy’s dresses were all laid out flat, folded in half and packed with tissue paper.

It would be best to get them hung up as soon as possible so they could air out and, hopefully, not be too wrinkled.

Elizabeth noticed they were all made of fine quality fabrics, but in dull colours and cuts that were not particularly flattering.

Indeed, it seemed that Miss Darcy preferred fashions from many years past.

Elizabeth lifted one out of the chest and gave a quick glance at Miss Darcy before unfurling it and hanging it in the wardrobe.

It would have suited her much better to dress in brighter colours that would bring out her blue eyes and fair complexion.

Instead, nearly all her gowns were in dull tones of brown, grey, and black.

She hoped Miss Darcy was not in mourning for someone.

Had she perhaps been close to Mr Sinclair?

“What do you think of them?” Miss Darcy asked suddenly. She had seated herself on the edge of the bed and taken off her gloves. “I just had them ordered from a very famous London shop before coming here.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. The truth would hardly do, particularly as they had just met. “The fabrics are very fine, Miss Darcy.” She smoothed her hand over a black muslin with far too large a collar for a woman of her age and delicacy.

“You are not a servant, are you?” Miss Darcy said suddenly. She cocked her head to the side and studied Elizabeth, waiting for her reaction.

Elizabeth smiled at her, shaking her head.

“No, I am not. My name is Elizabeth Bennet. I am here with my father — the other potential heir in line to inherit the house.” She set the black muslin gown over a chair and joined Miss Darcy near the bed.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to deceive you. But I saw no reason to argue with Mr Darcy and not show you your room, since Mrs Graham had already shown me where any female guests would be staying. You looked so very tired.”

“I apologise for my brother. You should not have offered to put my dresses away. I can finish that later,” Miss Darcy said. She stood up from her perch and wrung her hands. “Please do not blame my brother. He is only overprotective of me.”

Elizabeth frowned, wondering why that might be so. Perhaps Miss Darcy suffered from some sort of illness. “I see. Well, I will not hold it against him — nor you.”

Miss Darcy sat back down on the bed rather heavily, as though she could hardly bear to remain standing.

“Thank you, Miss Bennet. It was kind of you to show me to my room. Particularly as I am dreadfully tired.” She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.

“My brother is sometimes too hasty. Our parents died several years ago, and he has had to be both mother and father to me.”

She offered Elizabeth a tentative smile, but only for an instant.

As though Miss Darcy feared she had done something wrong, she quickly looked away, refusing to meet Elizabeth’s gaze.

Elizabeth was not at all inclined to take offence, for it was obvious that the young woman’s awkwardness was not caused by pride or contempt.

Nothing like it; she was only dreadfully shy.

In fact, that might explain Miss Darcy’s strange, unflattering clothes and toilette as well.

She had no lady to show her the way. Elizabeth’s heart went out to the orphaned girl.

What must it be like to grow up without the love and companionship of a mother and sisters?

Elizabeth herself had been so fortunate.

While her own mother’s advice was not, perhaps, always to be trusted, she had Jane and her dear aunt, Mrs Gardiner.

Even her younger sisters played a role in her own development, for Mary recommended books and urged her to practice the piano more, and Kitty and Lydia would never have allowed her to wear a gown as unfortunate as Miss Darcy’s.

Poor Miss Darcy. It was a pity that she was all alone, with only the condescending Mr Darcy to help her learn the ways of the world. He certainly would not have been able to help his sister in learning charming behaviour, let alone how to dress becomingly.

“I am sorry to hear of your loss,” Elizabeth said gently.

“It was a long while ago. Indeed, I never knew my mother. She died during childbirth with me. And my father passed away when I was only eight.” She gave a slight shake of her head. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I should not be telling you all of this.”

“There is no need to apologise,” Elizabeth said reassuringly. “Indeed, I am honoured by your confidences. But I shall leave you to rest now. Will I see you at supper?”

“Yes, I shall see you then. Thank you once again. I appreciate all your help.”

She needs only a little guidance to be absolutely charming, Elizabeth mused .

All the essentials were there. Miss Darcy had already shown herself to be polite and insightful, eager to please.

She was quite pretty too, though the dull colours and unfortunate styles of her gowns nearly hid it.

With luck, she would get the guidance she needed one day.

And on that day, Miss Darcy would surely blossom.

“It was my pleasure,” Elizabeth said, and walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

She went to her own room and closed the door, sighing a little.

Only a few days at Strathalt House, and she had already been embroiled in a comical misunderstanding — that much could not be denied.

Embarrassing as the confusion had been, it might yet have one benefit.

It would make admirable material for a letter to Jane.

∞∞∞

Dear Jane,

Scotland is all that I could have dreamt and more.

The landscape is not only beautiful, but the air is filled with mystery and the sense of romance from ages past. Papa and I arrived yesterday and have settled in nicely.

Mr Campbell, the estate’s manager, is a kind man — very serious and respectable.

I must tell you that the other gentleman who is in line to inherit arrived a little while ago.

He has brought along his younger sister, and while she is a sweet young lady, he is an utter boor.

You will hardly believe this, but on a first meeting, he mistook me for the housekeeper and went so far as to chastise me for keeping him waiting.

Suffice it to say, his manners are insulting at best. I am sorry that Miss Darcy has a brother such as he.

At any rate, we will soon find out the extent of the details of the inheritance and who is the closest relative.

I can only hope that it is Papa, and that we will soon have a fine house to come to, if the need arises.

You would love it here just as much as I do, although our mother and younger sisters might have a hard time adjusting to how spread out all the neighbours are here.

(Who knows, it might do Lydia and Kitty good to be cloistered for a while, before being released into society!)

Give our best to the family. We love and miss you all.

Elizabeth

∞∞∞

Elizabeth blotted and sealed the letter.

She took it to the box out in the hall, where the footmen were sure to collect it at the end of the day.

She spent the remainder of the morning and afternoon in her room, as she was never called down to the drawing room for tea.

Instead, Mrs Graham came to her room with a small tray and informed her that Mr Campbell was dealing with a mild crisis concerning one of the tenant farmers.

He would not return until supper that evening.

She was just as happy not to have another run-in with Mr Darcy, safely tucked away in her room with an ample supply of tea and delicacies such as she had tasted the day before.

It was lovely to have some time to read.

Though, Elizabeth thought with a private smile, she spent nearly as much time looking out the window at the beautiful view as she did turning pages.

The gong sounded at half-past six. With a good will, Elizabeth set down her book and began preparing for supper.

When she entered the drawing room, there was already a cheery fire burning, and the gentlemen were standing around its glowing light.

Her father waved to her, but did not leave his conversation with Mr Campbell.

Much to Elizabeth’s chagrin, Mr Darcy did turn away to come to her.

He bowed in front of her, and she bowed in return. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” he said in a low, strained voice.

“Yes, Mr Darcy?” she asked sweetly, wondering what might come next.