Page 4 of The Countess and Her Sister
Darcy arrived at Matlock House at precisely half past ten.
He had been surprised at his aunt’s letter the week before, for his aunt had long disavowed the match Lady Catherine desired to make for him with her daughter, before Anne’s death.
After this, the dowager countess had never pushed Lady Rebecca at him as an alternative, nor shown any interest in such a personal matter.
But she based her new notion now on the interests of her grandson and the earldom, and he had appreciated her sincere appeal to his sound judgement and abilities.
He had been impressed by all that she had written of Lady Jane’s character, and that the dowager was so supportive of a woman who had achieved a marriage into their family by less than admirable means.
The fault had been attributed all to the lady’s pernicious mother, with whom the lady and her sister had broken entirely.
Darcy had read between the lines, and supposed that in losing a reprobate of a stepson, his aunt had gained a daughter worthy of her esteem.
Or two such, if Richard was to be believed.
He had indeed spoken of the younger countess bringing a sister into the household, yet Darcy had imagined it to be a young girl such as his own sister, from how Richard had causally referred to the young lady’s antics.
Apparently, she was a fierce protector of her sister, and Darcy wished to please her as much as Lady Jane.
Perhaps they might both make suitable friends for Georgiana, if he did not discover that the dowager countess had been prevailed upon by country upstarts.
As a footman led him toward the drawing room, he heard tinkling laughter that was pleasant and promising. His mother had laughed a great deal, and Pemberley had felt silent and dreary since losing her. A new Mrs. Darcy might be a fine thing, if she were the right sort of woman.
The laughter died away as soon as he entered the room.
He watched the light drain from the eyes of a stunning brunette who sat playing chess with Richard in front the fireplace.
Her countenance shifted from mirthful and beguiling, to cold displeasure.
Her jaw tightened as she stared up at Darcy, and then she turned away, a lily-white hand sweeping the chess pieces forcefully into Richard’s lap.
Darcy could not break the intensity of her stare, nor could he tear his eyes away even after she diverted her grimace to his cousin.
He could not move at all, and lingered stupidly in the doorway, feeling mortified that there must be something amiss with his person, for this beautiful woman did not like the look of him at all.
And she was beautiful. She was simply but elegantly dressed, requiring no jewelry or other adornments beyond that fleeting smile to render her appearance entirely charming, and even in her displeasure she was resplendent.
Sunlight from the front window lit one half of her, the subtle sheen of her simple ivory silk day dress giving her an ethereal glow.
There was a graceful impishness about her as she sent the chess pieces into the air, a glint in her eye that suggested she meant to bedevil Richard for whatever displeasure Darcy had aroused in her.
She shook her head at his cousin, one of her chestnut curls coming loose, glinting with traces of amber where the sunlight touched it.
But this could not be the young countess who silently promised his cousin murder.
His aunt had written that her features were fair and golden; but here was the dowager now, presenting another, more delicately beautiful woman.
Jane Fitzwilliam was willowy and demure, a small coronet of silver filigree and pearls nestled into her cool blonde chignon to signify her station.
Like her sister, her clothing was simple but undoubtedly of fine quality, her lovely countenance just as expressive as she looked to her sister with confusion before greeting Darcy.
He forcibly roused himself from his visceral reaction to such a strange beginning, and made a civil greeting.
“Lady Jane, I am pleased to meet the acquaintance of a lady I have heard is a great credit to the family.” And then, as realization alighted on him, he said just what came into his mind.
“I believe I saw you dancing with Bingley at the ball last evening.”
Lady Augusta’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Darcy, you were at a ball? Willingly?”
“I believe you thought our Jane a woman worth dancing with, even if none of the others could tempt you – but it is well that you did not remain long,” Richard drawled. He rose from his seat and offered a hand to Miss Bennet, who trod quite deliberately on his foot as she stood beside Richard.
Lady Rebecca, sprawled indecorously on a divan with a book in her lap, grinned brightly at the scene. “I suppose you could not find anything about Lady Thurston’s ball tolerable enough to remain more than a quarter hour?”
Darcy experienced a moment of confusion, followed by another of horrifying clarity.
He gaped at Miss Bennet as Lady Augusta presented her to him, radiating indulgent pride.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet is Jane’s younger sister, the second of five daughters, and the one their mother promised would give me the most trouble.
She has been a treasure since she came to us two years past.”
Miss Bennet curtsied and Darcy bowed, but neither spoke a word as they held a potent gaze that was on one side full of fury, and on the other repentance. She had heard him, whatever horrid nonsense he had said of her to Bingley, she had heard.
Lady Augusta did not notice the tension. “Did you meet last evening? And I missed it! But was it your idea of a joke not to tell me, Lizzy? Or, Jane, did you wish to spare my feelings? Well, here we all are now, anyhow.”
“We did not meet,” Lady Jane replied, giving Darcy a smile that did not reach her eyes.
Miss Bennet discreetly pinched Richard, who hovered near her, radiating mischievous glee.
“We were not introduced, Mamma,” she said, addressing the dowager with such unaffected informality that Darcy could imagine she was in the easy habit of doing so.
“Perhaps he had no opportunity for a common acquaintance to perform the introduction.”
“As Lady Rebecca said, I was there but a quarter of an hour. I spoke briefly with Bingley and Richard, and departed feeling myself unequal to society.”
“Unequal to society?” The dowager tutted and shook her head with an affectionate smile. “Lady Jane will think you quite a recluse, with such talk. You are always welcomed and respected wherever you go.”
Darcy scarcely heard his aunt as he looked at Richard.
Like his bold sister Rebecca, he was making no endeavor to conceal his own hilarity.
No – Richard had engineered this little trap for just such puckish amusement, and Darcy wanted to throttle him for it.
It seemed Miss Bennet was likely to beat him to having this honor, if her looks were any indication.
Richard met his eye with a triumphant set to his shoulders, his chin held high.
“But what a pity you could not be properly introduced to my sisters, and have the pleasure of dancing with them. I am not too much a brother to do so myself, though certainly I am brother enough to be proud and protective of them. As I told you last night, any man to cause them dismay will feel my wrath.”
After a sideward glance at her sister’s silent ire, Lady Jane smiled tranquilly. “Your cousins and aunt have been very kind in receiving Elizabeth and I into the family, Mr. Darcy. I have found all of their kin to be warm and amiable. I am honored and delighted to now count you as such.”
Darcy did his best to nod at her gracious words, though at the same time Miss Bennet had begun to whisper furiously to Richard, throwing the word wrath back at him with a promise of violence.
Darcy had never heard anybody speak to his cousin in such a way – and in the presence of his aunt – and while her sister uttered such sweet overtures of friendship.
He was appalled, impressed, and irrepressibly charmed.
“Come and sit, Darcy,” his aunt instructed him.
“We shall take tea. I have yet to hear of the ball from my young people, but I understand my niece and nephews were there, too, and that odious General Tilney. Let us hear all about it – you may begin to wish you had enjoyed yourself as they did, Darcy.”
“No – no,” Darcy said, the words tumbling out of him as he tensed once more.
The ladies seated themselves, and Darcy turned his head as he watched the swish of Miss Bennet's gown when she sat down beside Rebecca, who linked hands with her friend and began whispering into her ear, eliciting a look of high humor from the lady he had insulted.
He had not even looked at her properly, else he could not have been in his right mind to refuse an introduction.
He might have stood up with her, said something to arouse such radiant mirth.
But whatever gave her such delight must likely be abuse of himself, coming from Rebecca.
He was feeling Richard’s wrath indeed, enduring such a punishment as this.
“Forgive me, I will return tomorrow,” Darcy said to his aunt before hastening from the room, unable to bear a moment more of the mortifying torture his cousin has orchestrated.
He would certainly not sit and take tea as his offense against Miss Bennet was recounted to his aunt, who would be heartily ashamed of his boorishness.