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Page 33 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)

“It is an odd thing that my father loves the book Robinson Crusoe ,” Elizabeth declared as she briskly cut up a piece of beef, “and yet he rarely wishes to stir from home. It seems that a man who enjoys reading of foreign lands would also be interested in visiting those lands.”

Darcy smiled at her from his position at the head of the dinner table.

“I believe I understand your father quite well, Miss Bennet. The mind is powerful, and I have often been swept away while reading such that I almost see the jungle, and hear the birds sing, and even feel the incredible heat of the sun. But when I close my book, I am back in England, with food and drink readily available, with pleasant breezes to cool me and dear family members at my side. Robinson Crusoe, you must admit, had none of those things.”

Elizabeth considered this thoughtfully. “People like my father prefer to think about depredations rather than experience them?”

“Precisely. I am not myself a particularly well-traveled man. My father made the Grand Tour of the Continent in his day, but of course thanks to Napoleon’s activities, that was not possible for me.

In any case, my father passed on when I was but one and twenty, which required that I attend to the estate. ”

“But you have been to the sea?”

“Yes.”

“And obviously Derbyshire?”

“Yes.”

“And Hertfordshire, of course. Have you been anywhere else?”

“A few years ago, I visited a small Darcy holding in Scotland,” he admitted.

Elizabeth laughed. “I assure you, that compared to me, you are very well traveled indeed. I have been only to Hertfordshire and London.”

“I hope one day soon you might look upon Pemberley,” he said boldly, and felt his face flush.

Elizabeth blushed in return but forced herself to keep her eyes fixed on his. “That would be quite wonderful, Mr. Darcy.”

Mrs. Gardiner was seated between Mr. Darcy and Mary and across from Elizabeth. Even as Mrs. Gardiner spoke cheerfully about music with her middle niece, she was aware of the happy glow in Elizabeth’s eyes.

Georgiana Darcy was speaking joyfully with Lydia, who was seated next to her, and based on the fragments of conversation Mrs. Gardiner could hear, and the quick movements of their hands, they were speaking of the play As You Like It.

She glanced over at Mr. Gardiner, who sat at the foot of the table, and observed that he too was regarding Elizabeth and Darcy. A moment later, as if sensing her gaze, he turned and looked at her, and they exchanged a fond smile, pleased and a little amused at the ardent adoration of young love.

/

The gentlemen had just rejoined the ladies in the drawing room when they were unexpectedly, and unpleasantly, interrupted.

“The Earl and Countess of Matlock,” the butler announced, and stepped aside to reveal Darcy’s noble relations, both of them dressed in evening finery.

For a moment, silence reigned until Darcy surged to his feet and said frigidly, “Sir, Madam, this is an unexpected surprise. I fear I am quite busy tonight; perhaps I could call on you tomorrow morning?”

Matlock glowered at his nephew before allowing his gaze to sweep the room, which held Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Darcy, Elizabeth, and Lydia. Georgiana and Mary had asked, and received permission, to retreat to the music room.

“I fear that this conversation cannot wait, Darcy,” the Earl declared firmly. “Am I correct that one of these young ladies is Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

Darcy hesitated briefly before inclining his head. “Yes.”

“Would you be so kind as to introduce us?” Lady Matlock asked courteously, shooting a warning glance at her consort.

“Very well,” Darcy replied rather stiffly. “Lord Matlock, Lady Matlock, may I please introduce Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner of Gracechurch Street, and their nieces, Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Lydia Bennet. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Misses Bennets, my uncle and aunt, the Earl and Countess of Matlock.”

The ladies curtsied and the men bowed, and the Earl took a step forward to gaze down into Elizabeth’s face, his face haughty, one eyebrow lifted in aristocratic disdain.

“So you are the young woman who seeks to reach far above your station and marry my nephew?”

/

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam wandered the familiar halls of Darcy House with his faithful valet a few steps behind him.

It was rare that the colonel had any desire to leave Matlock House; after the battle of Corunna, where he was wounded, after he was captured by the French and held as a prisoner of war for two long years, after his somewhat miraculous escape back to England, he felt himself an alien in his own country.

His nightmares were a roiling mass of death and suffering, and during the day, he found himself enervated, quite unable to find interest in the common concerns of those around him.

What did it matter who was marrying whom in English high society?

What did it matter if the heir to the throne of England, Princess Charlotte, was at odds with her father, the Prince Regent?

What did it matter, even, what decisions were made by the high and mighty of the land in their attempts to finally defeat Napoleon? While politicians and generals discussed financial difficulties and troop movements, the common men suffered and died in the mud and mountains of the Peninsula.

He sighed deeply and Winton, his valet, spoke worriedly. “Are you all right, sir?”

He nodded reassuringly. Winton had been his valet since he was a youth and had cared for him with unceasing devotion since his return from a French prison.

“I am well,” he assured his man. “Thank you.”

A few strains of pianoforte music wafted into his ears, and he smiled with genuine pleasure.

That would be Georgiana, no doubt. He had been sufficiently curious at Anne de Bourgh and Fitzwilliam Darcy’s latest outrageous activities to join his parents in their descent on Darcy House this evening.

As soon as he entered the familiar front door, though, he had felt a violent disinclination to be present while his father harangued his cousin Darcy.

Thus, he was wandering the distant, peaceful reaches of the mansion.

He followed the tune without thought and found himself in the music room, staring with some surprise at the two ladies playing a duet on the pianoforte.

One was his young cousin Georgiana, who had grown since he had seen her last autumn.

Next to her was a dark-haired lady of some twenty years.

The twosome did not notice his entrance; both were focused intently on the music on the rack in front of them, and their fingers moved in a stately dance, coaxing music that comforted his very soul.

When the last few strains faded away, he found himself clapping with unaccustomed delight. “That was very well done!”

Georgiana looked up in shock which shifted to pleasure. “Richard! Oh, how wonderful to see you!”

The girl rose to her feet and rushed forward to embrace her tall cousin fiercely. He returned the caress with gratitude. He loved Georgiana but had been too broken in mind and body to assist her older brother in caring for her; it was a relief to see that she looked happy and healthy.

He released her a minute later and turned toward her unknown companion, who was standing near the instrument. The girl was not especially beautiful, but she had warm brown eyes and a peaceful countenance.

“Georgiana, would you please introduce me to your friend?” he requested.

“With pleasure! Richard, this is my friend, Miss Mary Bennet. Miss Mary, my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

Mary curtsied and the colonel bowed, both of them thinking rapidly.

Mary had heard of the Darcy cousin who had been taken captive by the French; this man looked the part in that he was broad-shouldered with weathered skin that spoke of many years of peering into the sun of the Peninsula.

On the other hand, there was a gauntness to his face, and a pallor to his skin, which spoke of recent privation and suffering.

Fitzwilliam, in turn, felt himself oddly relaxed in the presence of the young lady; he used to be a cheerful and convivial soul, but that seemed a lifetime ago; now, he found interacting with most women to be strenuous and exhausting.

“Miss Mary Bennet?” he repeated absently. “Is not Darcy pursuing ...?”

He sputtered to a halt in embarrassment. That was a not a courteous question.

Mary Bennet smiled, easing his discomfort. “It appears that Mr. Darcy is pursuing my older sister, Elizabeth, sir.”

“He most definitely is,” Georgiana declared with a roguish twinkle in her blue eyes.

“Is Miss Elizabeth Bennet here tonight?” the colonel asked in a disquieted tone.

“Yes,” Georgiana returned innocently. “Why do you ask?”

“My parents are here,” her cousin explained, “and I fear my father is most displeased, though not for any good reason, Miss Mary. He has a rather inflated view of the importance of connections in choosing a marital partner, and you may have heard that our other cousin, Miss de Bourgh, recently ran off with a clergyman.”

“Oh dear,” Miss Darcy exclaimed in distress. “I do hope our uncle is not too harsh with Miss Bennet!”

Mary laughed openly now. “My dear Georgiana, do not concern yourself. Elizabeth is entirely capable of taking on a fractious relative, I assure you!”

/

“So you are the young woman who seeks to reach far above your station and marry my nephew?”

Lydia emitted a strangled gasp, Mr. Gardiner frowned dangerously, and Darcy took a furious step forward, only to halt when Elizabeth lifted a placating hand toward her well-wishers. The girl took a bold step toward Lord Matlock and lifted a saucy face to him.

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