"Nothing should prevail on him to give up his engagement. He would stand to it, cost him what it might."
By the night of Harry’s grand birthday fete, the rain had cleared, and Norland reverberated with the sounds of youthful merriment. Harry, it seemed, had left no acquaintance uninvited, and as the house and grounds filled with school chums and club friends, frivolity ruled. The billiards room never emptied, the air echoed with shots at game birds, and the hunt was pursued with a wildness and intensity that rivaled any fey legend.
Fanny accepted the invasion with surprising graciousness. Though by law the house officially belonged to Harry since his father’s death, it remained very much hers in essence. Elizabeth suspected Fanny’s indulgence of Harry’s rambunctious friends stemmed from a hope that their antics would distract him from Kitty.
If that were indeed her design, however, Harry himself thwarted it. When a young man’s vision is filled by only one lady, all the entertainment in the world cannot divert his attention from her. Though he played the generous host and partook of the fun, he distanced himself from its more frenetic activities. Despite his mother’s none-too-subtle encouragement to spend as much time as possible with his gentlemen friends — in lieu of the young ladies of fortune who one by one had been discounted by Lucy Ferrars — Harry eschewed their companionship for that of Miss Bennet. Not that the besotted Kitty was herself anything approaching staid, but Elizabeth observed in them a growing seriousness that met her approbation.
Darcy noted it, too. "I think Mr. Dash wood is even more of a changed man since our arrival at Norland," he said as they watched Harry lead Kitty to the center of the ballroom for the first dance. Elizabeth stole a glance at Fanny, who appeared about to choke on her own bile at the sight of Kitty being accorded the honor of opening the ball.
"Yes. He seems very much to desire not only Kitty’s approval of himself and his estate, but ours, as well. I never would have thought of Kitty as a settling influence, but I am glad for it."
"You do approve of him, then? We have spoken of my thinking of him as a brother, but would you also welcome him as such?" He offered Elizabeth his hand, and they joined the couples forming a line on the floor.
"I would. But it is premature for either of us to speak openly of Mr. Dashwood that way when the gentleman himself has not yet declared that intention." The opening strains of the music sounded. She bent in a curtsy.
"Not yet declared it to whom?"
She jerked to a stand, rapidly assessing him in the few moments the dance’s first figure would allow her to face him. His face was completely impassive, but his eyes held amusement.
"Darcy! Has Mr. Dashwood — "
The steps of the dance forced them apart. She stumbled through the figure, distracted by his cryptic question. Had Mr. Dashwood sought Darcy’s permission to marry Kitty? Had he already proposed to Kitty herself?
Elizabeth nearly bumped into one of her fellow dancers as her gaze ricocheted from Darcy to Harry to Kitty. The dance had brought the latter two back together, but as they faced each other, Elizabeth could detect in their manner no secret understanding.
Darcy at last stood opposite her once more. "Will you now explain yourself?" she asked.
"Explain what?"
"Are you in Mr. Dashwood’s confidence?"
"I believe so. Why, today he entrusted to me a review of Norland’s accounts."
"Darcy! You are being deliberately obtuse. Are you in his confidence on more personal subjects?"
The dance parted them again, and Elizabeth was forced to endure shuttered expressions from Darcy as his only response. With growing impatience, she walked through the succeeding figures until they were reunited.
"Do not keep me any longer in suspense," she said.
Before he could speak, the figure brought Regina Ferrars and her partner directly next to them. "Mrs. Darcy! Are you enjoying the dance?" Regina puffed with exertion. "I think there are twenty couple! We’ll be half an hour in this set, at least. Isn’t it splendid?"
Elizabeth met Darcy’s gaze. He crooked his lips in a maddening smile and said not a word.
"Yes — splendid," she replied.
This was going to be the longest half hour of her life.
When the set at last ended, Harry immediately led Kitty off the floor, through the throng, and out of the ballroom. Elizabeth caught Darcy’s arm and drew him to a quiet corner. "Tell me," she demanded.
"I have nothing to tell."
"Your expression suggests otherwise."
"Does it? I shall have to work on that."
"Has Mr. Dashwood spoken to you? Has he proposed?"
"Why would he propose to me? I am a married man."
"With a more patient wife than you deserve." She released an exasperated breath. "Has he proposed to Kitty?"
"I do not know." He smiled — a real smile this time, not the taunting one he’d borne until now. "The night is still young."
She seized upon the intimation. "He plans to offer tonight?"
"He asked me this afternoon whether I thought your father would approve a match between them. I told him that I believed so, and that he could rely upon my endorsement should Mr. Bennet solicit my opinion. Beyond that, I am not privy to Mr. Dashwood’s intentions." Something past Elizabeth’s shoulder caught his attention. "But I suspect your sister is. Here she comes."
Kitty didn’t walk across the room — she floated, oblivious to the sea of people as she made her way straight for Elizabeth. Mr. Dashwood followed in her wake but became sidetracked by William Middleton. Kitty did not wait for him but pressed on until she reached her sister’s side.
"Lizzy! I have the most wonderful news!" She lowered her voice so that no one but Elizabeth could hear, but she needn’t have spoken at all — her face revealed everything. "Mr. Dashwood just proposed, and I have accepted him."
Elizabeth hugged her with genuine joy. "You will be very happy together, I am certain."
"He means to go to Longbourn directly he leaves here to ask Papa’s permission in person. I would like to go with him. Will you and Mr. Darcy take me?"
"Of course."
The evening slipped by in a blur from that moment until supper. The sisters could not talk openly of wedding plans or trousseaus, but they did determine that the distance between Norland and Pemberley was not so very great if one traveled with four horses and fair weather. Mr. Dashwood joined them long enough to receive quiet congratulations from Elizabeth and Darcy, but his duties as a host prevented him from spending as much time in Kitty’s company as he obviously wished.
About an hour before supper, Elizabeth and Darcy left the noisy ballroom in search of a spot where they could indulge in a few minutes’ quiet conversation without fear of being overheard. They wandered into the dining room, where servants were coming in and out as they prepared to serve the meal. The small alcove stood empty except for a large arrangement of spring flowers that emitted a fragrance too lovely to leave.
Elizabeth inhaled deeply. "Mmm. Do let us linger here a moment."
They slipped into the alcove and around one side of the table. The nook was unlit, but the dining room’s many candles provided sufficient indirect illumination that they could talk without standing in the dark.
"You are happy," Darcy said. It was a statement, not a question, for her delight in the betrothal was so evident that she feared her expression would announce the engagement before Mr. Dashwood and Kitty could.
She nodded, grateful for the opportunity to speak freely of her joy for at least a few minutes before returning to the party. "This is a good match for Kitty."
"I would not in general consider you a woman prone to matchmaking."
"Neither would I," she said. "I certainly do not share my mother’s belief that any husband is better than no husband. But I truly cannot imagine a superior partner for my sister than Mr. Dashwood."
"Nor can I."
"Now you admire your own handiwork. You have helped him become a steadier man, one worthy of my sister."
"I did no more than offer direction," he said. "Mr. Dashwood is his own man. He himself made the transformation, and he could not have done so if he did not wish to. The change would not last."
"Nevertheless, I thank you for extending him your friendship."
"You need not. Though you encouraged my initial overtures toward him, it was not long before genuine amity motivated me. Why, I think I now like him quite as well as I do Bingley."
"We are fortunate in having two such gentlemen as my sisters’ husbands." Of her third brother-in-law, Mr. Wickham, she omitted mention altogether. Darcy could scarcely tolerate the utterance of his name, and she did not want to allow Lydia’s scapegrace spouse to spoil such a perfect evening.
"Does Kitty’s betrothal mean we can leave London without finishing the season? Or do you wish to stay until the bitter end?"
Elizabeth recalled her conversation with Georgiana at the pianoforte. One engagement was enough for their family this season. "I believe once Kitty’s wedding clothes are ordered, our business in town is finished. I imagine, however, that Kitty might wish to remain in London longer so as to see Mr. Dash-wood regularly."
"I thought you might say that. Very well. Though I had hoped to take you back to Pemberley soon."
"Pemberley?" she asked in a light tone. "Why ever would I want to return to Pemberley now that you have immersed me in the glittering society of the beau monde?"
Darcy lowered his voice. "I am a selfish man, remember? I do not want to share you with the beau monde."
She glanced quickly toward the arched entrance to the alcove, suddenly quite conscious that no one could see them where they stood. Meeting Darcy’s gaze again, she saw that he — her utterly straitlaced, ever-proper husband — was also very aware of the unexpected privacy of the moment.
"Mr. Darcy," she whispered, "I hope you are not contemplat- ing something shocking, like kissing your wife in the middle of Mr. Dashwood’s birthday fete?"
"Never." He took one of her gloved hands in his and slowly interlaced their fingers. "But I confess," he whispered back, "that I was contemplating kissing her here. Only contemplating, mind you." He leaned toward her.
"What are you doing?" came a haughty, all-too-famriiar voice from the dining room.
Elizabeth and Darcy jumped apart, dropping each other’s hands as if burned.
"I had those place cards carefully arranged!" Fanny Dash-wood’s voice bounced harshly off the china and crystal settings in the dining room. Elizabeth, still startled, required a moment more to finally realize Harry’s mother was speaking not to her and Darcy, but to someone else entirely. They, thankfully, remained unseen in the alcove.
"You have titled guests," Fanny hissed. "You are defying the proper order of precedence."
"They are my friends," said Mr. Dash wood. "They will not mind."
"I mind. Will you let the news circulate throughout the ton that at a fete I hosted — "
"Norland is my house now. I will accept the earth-shattering repercussions of sitting beside the woman I love at my own birthday celebration."
Elizabeth met Darcy’s gaze. He, too, clearly wished they could escape the alcove, but they remained trapped until Mr. Dash-wood and his mother left. As much as they regretted overhearing the private conversation between mother and son, revealing themselves now would only make the situation worse — they would embarrass Mr. Dashwood and make themselves look ridiculous in the process. Feeling acutely the awkwardness of their position, they backed farther into the shadows.
"Do not talk so foolishly. This interest you have in Miss Ben-net is mere infatuation. I will find you a wife more worthy of you, one who can bring something to your marriage."
"Miss Bennet has consented to bring herself. That is enough for me."
A long silence followed. Elizabeth forced herself to take slow, shallow breaths so that the Dashwoods would not become aware of their accidental audience. She also prayed she would not be seized by the sudden need to sneeze.
"You have made her an offer of marriage?" Fanny finally said, her voice strangled.
"Yes. And she has accepted me."
"Of course she has. What other gentleman of your consequence could she hope to snare?"
"I will not hear you speak about my future wife in this manner."
"Harry, you are still young. You don’t know what you are about. Marriage is too important to your future to enter into unadvisedly. Let me guide you."
"My heart has guided me."
"Your heart should have nothing to do with it. You owe it to yourself and your family to make a materially advantageous alliance. If you must have Miss Bennet, indulge in a liaison with her after you have married someone else and produced a proper heir."
Elizabeth stilled a gasp. Harry’s was more audible. A look of disdain crossed Darcy’s face.
"Don’t be so naive, son. It happens all the time."
"I have heard enough of this."
"In time, you will understand that I am right," Fanny said. "I only hope it happens before you commit the greatest folly of your life."
Harry made no answer.
"Harry? Are you listening? Harry!"
To Elizabeth’s intense relief, sounds of movement suggested that Mrs. Dashwood followed her son out of the dining room. Darcy put a finger to his lips and moved to the alcove entrance.
"They have gone."
Elizabeth at last released her breath. "What do you make of that?" she asked as she reached his side.
"I think your sister has a difficult road ahead of her, but that Mr. Dashwood will do all in his power to smooth it." He took her hand, but this time with a different purpose than when he’d last held it. "I also think," he said, pulling her behind him as he crossed the dining room with rapid strides, "that we should make good our exit before Mrs. Dashwood returns to rearrange those cards."
Somehow, Harry managed to shake off the exchange with his mother well enough to seem his usual good-natured self at supper, though Elizabeth perceived the effort his show required. It probably helped that Fanny was seated across the room, presiding over a second table. Mother and son had no occasion to exchange words or even glances until the meal neared conclusion. Just before dessert was served, Mrs. Dashwood stood up and called for the attention of all assembled.
"I wish to thank you for joining us to mark my son’s twenty-first birthday." She nodded to a servant, who threw open the dining room doors. Two more footmen entered, carrying a large rectangular object covered with silk. They brought it to the front of the room and rested it on a stand that apparently had been placed there for this purpose.
"Harry, I can scarcely believe twenty-one years have passed since you let out your first cry. And I know that in another twenty-one years, I shall wonder how the time since tonight’s celebration passed so quickly." Fanny’s chin was tilted higher than usual, her voice more steely.
Elizabeth sensed the anger suppressed beneath the maternal words, though Fanny, like Harry, was delivering a stageworthy performance for the benefit of their guests. Whatever lessons and values Fanny had or had not managed to impart to her son growing up, both shared the ability to present a convincing fagade when required.
"Your years of young adulthood will someday be only a memory for you, too," Fanny continued. "I wanted, therefore, to fix this moment in time. And so, my darling son, I present my birthday gift to you."
The footman lifted the fabric to reveal a full-length portrait of Harry. It was an amazing likeness, the artist having perfectly captured not only Harry’s physical characteristics but his essence, as well. The image seemed ready to spring from the canvas to seize the pleasures of life with all the zeal oi the original.
"Thank you, Mother." Harry rose and stiffly crossed the room to kiss the air above his mother’s cheek. "You are generosity itself."
The following morning, Elizabeth walked through a quiet house down to breakfast, where she found Elinor Ferrars alone.
"Is no one else about yet?" she asked.
Elinor smiled. " Tis only ten o’clock. Do you truly imagine we’ll see many of the other guests before one?"
"Yet you are awake."
"I have three children. I haven’t slept past dawn in years."
Elizabeth welcomed the chance to converse more with Elinor. She found Harry’s aunt kind and forthright, with a directness that was refreshing after so many weeks among London’s ton. They talked at first about the previous night’s festivities, then drifted to other subjects. Elizabeth kept the news of Kitty and Harry’s engagement to herself, as the couple would not announce it until her father had sanctioned the match. But she wanted to learn more about the family Kitty would marry into, and trusted Elinor to provide an honest, if tactfully delivered, view.
Elinor and Edward, she came to understand, had married for love and had never known a moment’s regret since. Elizabeth believed the same would prove true for her and Darcy, and fervently hoped Kitty and Harry would be so blessed.
"What of your nephew?" Elizabeth asked. "Do you think Mr. Dashwood could ever be satisfied with an alliance of affection that did not also bring wealth?"
"To be honest, I’m not sure," Elinor said. "We have not had many opportunities to spend time with him and form an opinion of his character."
Before Elizabeth could learn any more, Regina Ferrars entered the breakfast parlor.
"Lord, but I’m starving! I never danced so much in my life as I did last night. Is the chocolate still hot?"
She headed straight to the buffet, where she piled a plate high with ham, cheese, eggs, plum cake, and one roll for each variety of jam offered. "What a splendid party! Didn’t Harry look handsome? Mama says she hopes our children inherit his profile."
Elizabeth choked on her toast. "Your children?" she asked when she recovered herself.
Elinor appeared equally surprised. "I was unaware that you and Harry had an understanding."
"Oh, we don’t. Not yet, anyway. But Mama thinks he should keep all his lovely money in the family, and says it shouldn’t be hard for a girl with a figure like mine to catch his eye."
No doubt because there was so much of her figure to behold.
"And last night, I heard my aunt Dashwood tell Mama that she’d rather see Harry wed me than some penniless girl. So it’s only a matter of time."
Not if Elizabeth had anything to do with it. With his whole family conspiring to oppose a marriage to Kitty, she would offer Harry a bit of reinforcement until they were able to depart for Longbourn.
Regina’s mouth was soon too full of plum cake to provide any additional news. Elizabeth excused herself and headed back to her chamber to see whether Darcy had yet risen. On the way she passed Elinor and Edward’s room. The door stood slightly ajar, and Fanny’s voice carried from within.
"If you would only speak to him. Please, Edward. You’re my brother, and his father is no longer here to guide him."
"Fanny, I simply cannot comprehend your objection. She comes from a respectable family, and her elder sisters’ marriages offer good connections. With Harry’s income, he doesn’t need a bride with a large dowry"
"Hmph. You would think that a man of Mr. Darcy’s fortune would settle something on his wife’s sisters to improve their marriageability."
"As you and John took care of his sisters?"
Silence.
Elizabeth reached her chamber, only to find it vacant. Darcy had apparently risen and embarked on some other occupation before breakfast. She returned to the hallway just as Fanny emerged from Edward’s room. Harry’s mother acknowledged her with minimal civility, then turned on her heel and retreated down the stairs. Having no desire to follow her, Elizabeth instead wandered into the long gallery Harry Dashwood stood inside. He had been studying the portrait of his father, but her entrance diverted his attention.
"Forgive me," she said. "I did not intend to disturb you."
"Nonsense, Mrs. Darcy. Your company is always a pleasure." He gestured toward the painting. "I was just contemplating what my father would think of my engagement to Miss Bennet."
"And what did you conclude7"
He shrugged. "He would have wanted to see me happy, but I suspect he might have shared my mother’s… reservations." He gazed at her directly. "It could not have escaped your notice that my mother would prefer I marry a woman of large fortune."
"I confess it has not."
"I apologize."
"Why? You are not responsible for your mother’s opinions."
"No, but I am now responsible for Miss Bennet’s happiness. I think it best to remove Kitty from my mother’s proximity at present, to spare her any further unpleasantness. I also wish to secure your father’s permission and announce the engagement as soon as possible. To that end, I plan to leave for Longbourn immediately — this very day. Can the three of you be ready by this afternoon? If not, I will go on ahead."
"We can depart within the hour if necessary. But how will you explain the abrupt departure to your other guests?"
"I will tell them the truth — that i must attend to an important matter requiring immediate action."
"And what will you tell your mother?"
"Nothing whatever. I am done with her. At least for this visit." He issued a disgusted sigh. "She has harped on me about family duty and reputation as long as I can remember, but you have only to look around this room to see people who did far more to compromise the Dashwoods’ standing than what she accuses me of. Sir Stephen might have been a knight, but his youngest son was a pirate. And Sir Francis here — " He gesticulated forcefully. "If the Dashwood family honor can survive his infamous conduct, it certainly won’t be tarnished by my marriage to a gentle, well-bred young lady."
Mr. Dashwood’s manservant entered. "Your trunks are packed and await only your order to load them, sir. Will you also be taking the portrait?"
"The one from my mother?"
"Yes, sir."
"Absolutely not."
"Yes, sir. What would you like done with it?"
"My mother can do whatever she likes with it. I don’t need it with me as a reminder of her manip — " He cut himself short as his gaze fell once more upon the portrait of Sir Francis.
"Come to think on it, pack this one instead." He laughed bitterly. "Sir Francis and I can keep our disgraceful selves company."