Page 4 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

“We shall not be entirely alone in this,” Darcy reminded her. “I will write to my aunt and uncle Matlock tonight to inform them of these developments and inquire when they expect to arrive in London. Aunt Margaret will be a valuable ally in navigating the Season.”

Elizabeth nodded, attempting to set aside her trepidation. “Her assistance will be invaluable. Particularly as we now have the added complication of finding a suitable husband for Anne.”

Darcy’s expression grew thoughtful. “That will be no simple task. Anne has lived such a sheltered life; I am not certain she has any clear idea of what she might want in a husband.”

“Perhaps that is where our real challenge lies,” Elizabeth mused. “Not merely in introducing Anne to society, but in helping her discover her own preferences and desires. She has lived so long under Lady Catherine’s thumb that I wonder if she even knows her own mind.”

“A fair observation,” Darcy conceded. “And one that makes our responsibility all the greater. We must ensure that Anne is not simply transferred from my aunt’s control to that of a husband who might be equally domineering.”

Darcy leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Before we are swept up in these new complications,” he said softly, “I want you to know that I have complete faith in your ability to manage this unexpected situation. You have proven yourself time and again to be equal to every challenge, Elizabeth.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “With you beside me, I believe I can face even Lady Catherine’s machinations with some equanimity.”

“That is fortunate,” Darcy replied with a hint of humour, “as I suspect this is merely the opening salvo in what promises to be an eventful Season.”

Elizabeth laughed despite herself. “After the events of the past year, I had hoped for a period of relative tranquillity.”

“Tranquillity?” Darcy echoed, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “With three young ladies making their debut in London society? I fear, my dear, that tranquillity may prove elusive for some time to come.”

With a regretful squeeze of his hand, Elizabeth rose and moved toward the door, her mind already turning to the arrangements that would need to be made.

“I must go and consult with Mrs. Wilson and with Cook, regarding what will no doubt be any number of ‘special arrangements’ Mrs. Jenkinson will insist must be put in place for Anne.”

Whatever challenges lay ahead, she would meet them with all the grace and determination she could muster. Though she could not help but wonder what other surprises might be in store for them before the Season was through.

In the fortnight since Anne’s unexpected arrival, the atmosphere of Darcy House had shifted from efficiency to perpetual motion, all centred around preparations for three young ladies’ debut into society.

Fabrics in every conceivable shade littered the drawing room, fashion plates covered every available surface, and Elizabeth orchestrated it all with remarkable grace.

“Mr. Darcy,” she called, spotting him in the doorway, “do come and give us your opinion. We are attempting to determine which shade of blue best suits Georgiana’s complexion.”

Darcy stepped reluctantly into what had become, by tacit agreement, the domain of feminine concerns. Two maids were arranging swatches of fabric against various backdrops, while his sister stood patiently beside the window, three different samples of blue silk draped across her shoulders.

“I confess I have little expertise in such matters,” he said, moving to stand beside his wife. “Though I have always thought Georgiana looks well in blue of any shade.”

“Precisely what a brother would say,” Elizabeth replied with a laugh. “But we must be more discerning. This particular blue brings out the delicacy of her complexion, while this one is lovely in daylight but may be too dark in the candlelight of a ballroom.”

Darcy nodded, attempting to appear thoughtful, though in truth the subtle distinctions Elizabeth perceived remained largely invisible to his masculine eye.

What was not invisible was the confidence with which his wife had assumed her role as mentor to three young ladies of vastly different temperaments.

“Kitty has set her heart on rose pink for her evening gown,” Elizabeth continued, gesturing to where Kitty stood excitedly conferring with a seamstress’s assistant. “I have suggested cream embroidery rather than gold, which I think will be more flattering to her colouring.”

“I defer to your judgment in all such matters,” Darcy assured her, his gaze drifting to the third member of the trio.

Anne sat slightly apart from the others, looking at a fashion plate with apparent indifference.

Her customary pallor seemed less pronounced today, perhaps due to the morning walk Elizabeth had insisted all three girls take in the square garden.

Mrs. Jenkinson hovered nearby, occasionally leaning down to murmur something in Anne’s ear that caused her to nod dutifully.

“And my cousin?” Darcy inquired softly. “Has she expressed any preferences?”

Elizabeth’s expression shifted subtly. “Miss de Bourgh has been most... accommodating,” she replied diplomatically. “Though I suspect she has had little opportunity to develop her own tastes in such matters.”

Before Darcy could respond, a commotion at the door announced the arrival of Madame Delaporte, modiste to the most fashionable ladies of the ton. Harrison, maintaining his dignity despite the flurry of assistants and boxes that accompanied the Frenchwoman, announced her with appropriate gravity.

“Madame Delaporte,” Elizabeth greeted, moving forward with perfect composure. “How kind of you to call upon us personally. We are most grateful for your attention, particularly at such short notice.”

“For ze wife of Mr. Darcy, it is my pleasure,” Madame replied with a dramatic flourish. “And for ze relatives. It is an honour to create ze wardrobe for such distinguished young ladies.”

Darcy retreated to a chair in the corner, recognising that his usefulness in this enterprise was limited to paying the bills that would inevitably follow.

Still, he found himself fascinated by the proceedings, particularly by the manner in which Elizabeth managed the expectations and anxieties of their three charges.

“Georgiana, perhaps you might show Madame the designs we discussed yesterday?” Elizabeth suggested gently. “The one with the Grecian influence that you admired.”

His sister stepped forward with some trepidation, her natural shyness asserting itself in the presence of this flamboyant Frenchwoman.

Yet with Elizabeth’s gentle encouragement, she handed over the fashion plate and even managed to articulate, in a soft but clear voice, her preference for simpler trimming than what was illustrated.

“ Très élégant, mademoiselle ,” Madame approved. “We shall create something of perfect simplicity. Not too simple, of course. You are Mees Darcy, after all. But elegant, refined, comme il fau t.”

The transformation in Georgiana’s countenance was subtle but unmistakable. The anxious tension in her shoulders eased slightly, and a tentative smile brightened her features. Elizabeth had known precisely how to bolster his sister’s confidence without overwhelming her.

Kitty, by contrast, required no such careful handling.

She bounded forward eagerly when summoned, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she described in animated detail her visions for at least three different ball gowns.

Where once her exuberance might have veered into silliness, Darcy noted a new restraint in her manner, a consideration of propriety that boded well for her presentation to society.

“I am particularly fond of this style,” Kitty declared, holding up an illustration. “Though perhaps with a slightly higher neckline? I know that very low bodices are fashionable, but I should not wish to appear... that is to say...”

“Most sensible, Mees Bennet,” Madame approved. “For a young lady making her debut, a certain modesty is most becoming. We shall create something youthful, but not childish. Fresh, but sophisticated.”

Darcy watched with approval. Kitty Bennet had come a long way from the giggling, thoughtless girl he had first encountered in Meryton. Under Elizabeth’s guidance, she was developing into a young woman of charm, her natural vivacity tempered by growing discernment.

It was Anne’s turn next, and here Darcy observed the greatest challenge to his wife’s diplomatic skills. Mrs. Jenkinson rose immediately, positioning herself at Anne’s shoulder like a sentinel.

“Miss de Bourgh’s health must be the primary consideration,” she announced, as Anne approached the modiste with reluctance. “She cannot tolerate tight lacing or heavy fabrics. And Miss de Bourgh shall wear only the most luxurious materials, befitting her station.”

“Miss de Bourgh’s comfort is paramount,” Elizabeth agreed smoothly. “I believe lighter silks would be both comfortable and elegant, don’t you agree, Anne?”

Anne glanced between Elizabeth and Mrs. Jenkinson, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. Darcy realised with a start that his cousin was unaccustomed to having her own opinion solicited in such matters.

“I... I suppose so,” she replied hesitantly.

“Perhaps ze lavender silk for Mademoiselle de Bourgh?” Madame suggested, holding up a length of exquisite fabric. “Or ze pale green? Both would complement your complexion beautifully.”

“White only for Miss de Bourgh,” Mrs. Jenkinson interjected firmly. “Lady Catherine insists on it.”

Elizabeth cast a glance at Darcy, a silent communication passing between them. He nodded almost imperceptibly, understanding her intent.

“Anne,” Elizabeth said gently, “would you care to look at several options? There is no need to decide immediately.”

Something in Elizabeth’s manner seemed to penetrate Anne’s habitual passivity. She reached out tentatively to touch the lavender silk.