Page 60 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)
"Those girls will be the death of me," she muttered, peering through the glass. "Lydia has grass stains on her muslin already, and it is not yet ten o'clock. And Kitty is encouraging her, as usual."
"They are still young, Mamma," Jane said calmly. "Perhaps—"
"Young or not, they must learn to conduct themselves as ladies. How will they ever secure suitable husbands if they persist in behaving like wild creatures?"
Papa lowered his newspaper just enough to peer over the top and waggle his eyebrows at his wife. "In my day, a bit of spirit was considered rather attractive in a young lady."
Mamma blushed. "Hush, you."
Elizabeth bit back a smile and bent closer to her work.
It was all comforting to her, the predictable antics of her younger sisters, the steady presence of Jane's serenity, the familiar rhythm of her parents' gentle sparring.
Her parents. The words came so naturally, but of course, they were not entirely accurate.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had raised her from infancy with such love and care that she had never truly felt the absence of her real parents.
Her father, a Thurnian prince who was also a dashing officer, and her mother, Papa's sister, had both died before Elizabeth was a year old.
The knowledge had always been there, explained to her in gentle terms as soon as she was old enough to understand, but it changed nothing of her affection for the family who had made her their own.
"Mary," she said, determined to redirect the conversation, "perhaps you could read to us from something a bit more entertaining? I am certain Papa's library contains something that will not induce immediate slumber."
Mary sniffed delicately. "I find Mr. Law to be perfectly engaging. His thoughts on the proper way to live a devout and holy life are most illuminating."
"I am certain they are," Elizabeth replied. "But surely even young ladies of proper conduct are permitted a bit of levity on occasion?"
"Levity," Mary said with the gravity typically reserved for her most important pronouncements, "is the enemy of moral improvement."
Papa chuckled from behind his paper. "In that case, my dear Mary, our family must be in a constant state of moral decline. The amount of levity that occurs within these walls on any given day would surely alarm poor William Law beyond comprehension."
Before Mary could launch into what promised to be a spirited defence of Mr. Law, the sound of hoofbeats in the drive drew everyone's attention to the front windows.
A magnificent black carriage, complete with livery that seemed far too grand for their modest neighbourhood, was coming to a stop near the front entrance.
"Oh my," Jane said, setting aside her embroidery. "Are we expecting callers?"
Mamma immediately abandoned her critique of Lydia's deportment and pressed herself close to the window. "I do not recognise the carriage. How splendid it looks! The horses alone must have cost—"
"Mamma," Elizabeth interrupted with a laugh, "perhaps you might step back before our mysterious visitor catches sight of you peering at him."
But Mamma was far too entranced by the spectacle to heed her suggestion. "Look at those brass fittings! And the livery! Whoever this is must be quite important indeed."
Papa set down his coffee cup and folded his newspaper, seeming resigned to having his peaceful morning interrupted. "Well, then. I suppose we shall have to receive them properly. Lizzy, ring for Mrs. Hill if you would, and warn her that we are to have company."
Elizabeth had just reached for the bell pull when a sharp, formal knock echoed through the house.
It was not the casual rap of a neighbour or the hesitant tap of a tradesman, but the sort of authoritative announcement that suggested the person on the other side of the door was quite accustomed to being admitted without delay.
"My goodness," Mamma said, and began fluttering about the room. "Jane, fix your hair. Lizzy, put away that bonnet. Mary, for heaven's sake, hide that dreadful book."
"It is not dreadful, Mamma," Mary protested, clutching it to her chest.
"Whatever it is, it is not suitable reading for morning callers," Mamma replied firmly. "Quick, all of you, sit up straight and try to look accomplished. "
Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance with Jane as Mr. Hill's voice could be heard in the hallway, followed by a deep, unfamiliar voice requesting an audience with the Bennet family on "a matter of utmost importance."
"Utmost importance?" Mamma's eyes widened with a mixture of excitement and concern. "Oh dear, I hope nothing dreadful has happened."
Before Papa could reassure her, Mr. Hill appeared in the doorway, looking unusually flustered. "Begging your pardon, sir," he said, addressing Mr. Bennet, "but there is a gentleman here to see you. A Sir Reginald Whitmore. He says it is regarding Miss Elizabeth specifically."
Elizabeth exchanged a shocked look with Jane. Me?
"Show him in, Hill," Papa said, standing. But Elizabeth noticed something peculiar in her father’s expression, a tightness around his eyes and something she thought might be dismay.
Sir Reginald Whitmore proved to be a tall, imposing man who appeared to be between fifty and sixty years, with steel-grey hair and a regal bearing. His clothing was impeccable, from his perfectly tied cravat to his gleaming boots, and he carried himself with stiff formality.
Upon entering the parlour, he bowed, his movements precise and deliberate. "Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet," he intoned in a voice that seemed designed for making proclamations in vast halls. "I am Sir Reginald Whitmore, envoy to His Majesty, King Frederick of Thurnia."
The silence that followed this announcement was so complete that Elizabeth was certain everyone in the room could hear her heart beating.
Thurnia. The word sent an odd thrill through her.
She had heard it before, of course, in the stories Papa had told her of her mother, but it had always seemed like something from a children’s story, not a real place with real people who sent real envoys to modest country estates .
Mamma's mouth opened and closed several times, producing no sound whatsoever, while Papa stood very still and pale.
"Thurnia!" Lydia exclaimed as she skipped into the room and the conversation.
"Where is Thurnia?" Kitty asked, following just behind her younger sister.
Sir Reginald's placid expression suggested that this was not the first time he had been required to provide this particular explanation.
"Thurnia is an island nation situated between the coast of Scotland and the Faroe Islands.
We have maintained our independence from both England and Scotland for over four centuries, though we share a common language and many cultural traditions. "
Papa sank slowly back into his chair, and Elizabeth noticed that his hands were trembling slightly. "Thurnia," he repeated quietly.
"Indeed," Sir Reginald continued. "I bring news that should not come as a surprise to you, Mr. Bennet."
What could this formal stranger possibly have to say that Papa had been expecting? Elizabeth glanced at her father and saw something in his expression that made her stomach clench with sudden apprehension.
"I beg your pardon?" Elizabeth managed, though her voice sounded strange to her own ears.
Sir Reginald reached into his coat and withdrew a thick scroll bound with red ribbon.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said, turning to address her directly, "I have come on behalf of Their Majesties, King Frederick and Queen Sophia of Thurnia, to extend a formal invitation for you to join the royal family upon your eighteenth birthday. "