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Story: The Deception

T he Countess remained at Netherfield for another two days, spending as much time with Elizabeth as possible.

As her son had predicted, she found Elizabeth utterly charming.

She was lively without being rag-mannered; lovely but not in any way immodest; frank but never indelicate.

She now understood completely how it was that Fitzwilliam Darcy, who had eluded the snares of every eligible young lady in London, had lost his heart to this unusual creature.

“I rather wish it was my son you were to marry,” she told Elizabeth on her final visit to Longbourn.

“Not the Colonel, but my first son, the Viscount. He is not married; like Darcy, he finds the young ladies of the ton tedious. You would be an excellent Viscountess and eventually an exceptional Countess.”

“I thank you, my lady, but I am content to be simply Mrs. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied.

“Remember that as ‘simply’ Mrs. Darcy, you shall need a good deal of clothing, Elizabeth. Once you are out of mourning, you must allow me to take you shopping.”

Elizabeth agreed at once, saying, “I know nothing of what Mrs. Darcy will need, so I accept your offer with gratitude. Perhaps Georgiana can accompany us?”

“She will have to, as she is reluctant to let you out of her sight,” the Countess said, wryly. “She was afraid that she would have Miss Bingley as a sister, so I can only imagine her relief and joy to have you instead.”

“She is a dear, dear girl,” Elizabeth declared. “And I am everything grateful to have a ready-made sister for me at Pemberley.”

“You will miss your own sisters a good deal, I think, but you must invite them to Pemberley. Or to Darcy House, in London; they would enjoy that, I think.”

“I most certainly shall! But have you noticed your younger son’s interest?” Elizabeth nodded toward the sofa, where the Colonel was engaged in earnest conversation with Lydia.

“Do you really think…? Oh, heavens!!” The Countess was so distressed that Elizabeth had to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing.

***

Later that night, at Netherfield, the Countess accosted the Colonel. “Tell me that you are not developing a tendré for Miss Lydia!”

“What? Me? Of course not!”

“Good, as she is completely unsuitable! She has no dowry and no connections!”

“No connections? Her sister will be Mrs. Darcy,” the Colonel mused, a twinkle in his eye.

“As to dowry, I understand from Miss Elizabeth that she will have one-third of Mrs. Bennet’s four thousand pounds, as Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth have no need of a dowry; if my math is accurate, this amounts to one thousand three hundred pounds.

In addition, Mr. Bennet is now committed to saving for his three youngest daughters’ dowries, so… ”

“Good heavens, Richard! It concerns me that you have enough interest in the girl to have discovered all this!”

The Colonel shrugged. “You said yourself that she is a pretty thing. And you also said that she now understood completely what had made her do such a thing as run off with a scoundrel, so her future behaviour is likely to be impeccable. Does that not make her rather unique?”

“It does, but you could do far better.”

The Colonel chose not to pursue the subject; he was in no position to marry a young lady without a substantial dowry. The opportunity to tease his mother had simply been irresistible.