Page 12 of Mr. Darcy's Complex Courtship

Elizabeth

While Mr. Bingley, Jane, Aunt Gardiner, and I followed the butler, Slade, through the elegant hall, I sneaked glances into each room we passed.

Over the years, I had accompanied Aunt Gardiner to a few homes in exclusive neighbourhoods of London, but none so grand as Mr. Darcy’s fine pillared residence. Unlike most of thehouses in this section of Mayfair, this one did not share common walls with any other.

Jane held back to walk at my side. She took my arm and lowered her head near mine. “How do you like your future home?”

I raised an eyebrow at the rash assumption in her query. “It is tolerable.”

She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Come now, Lizzy, admit it: this is a gorgeous house.”

“If you insist upon a serious response, then yes. Everything I have seen here is splendid.” Despite my outward show of confidence, it took an effort to prevent my shoulders from stooping. In every direction, exquisite items ofdécordrew my admiration, from the sublime statuary chimneypiece and detailed cornices in the sitting room off the entryway, to the elegant pieces of mahogany furniture and the wainscoting lining the hall. Could I ever belong here? Thanks to Aunt Gardiner, at least my satin gown did the house justice. Since the dressmaker required several days to complete the first of my new garments, my aunt had insisted upon my wearing one of hers tonight, which had been altered to fit me.

We entered the saloon, where Mr. Darcy and his sister greeted us.

Mr. Darcy moved opposite me. “Miss Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to welcome you to my home.” His magnetic, dark eyes flared.

“Thank you, I am glad to be here.”

He glanced at my dress. “You always look beautiful, but you are especially handsome this evening.”

A flush rose up from my throat. “Thank you.”

“I thought you and your family would like a tour of the house.”

“That would be lovely.”

His response, a beatific smile, made my heart skip a beat.

The others echoed approval for the tour, and Mr. Darcy led the way. His sister took a position at my side. He and Miss Darcy pointed out items of interest as we progressed through the residence.

The finery on display coincided with my own taste, with one exception: a garish vase in the corner of the green morning room with a discordant combination of bright colours. When the others left the room, I stayed Miss Darcy with a hand on her arm and indicated the flashy item. “This differs from the other furnishings in the house. How did you acquire this piece?”

“Oh, our aunt Lady Catherine gifted that hideous thing to us years ago.” Her nose crinkled. “Fitzwilliam and I hate the vase, and we once had it removed to the attic. But on her next visit, our aunt noticed its absence and made a fuss. My brother took responsibility, blaming his muddled order to a servant for the misperception.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Fitzwilliam has joked about ‘accidentally’ breaking the vase, but it remains here in case Lady Catherine makes an unexpected appearance—which she has been known to do. She seems to take satisfaction in seeing her gift here.”

“Then the vase serves a purpose.”

“Yes, I suppose so, despite it being offensive to the eyes.”

We departed the house to enter a lush garden that boasted a singular attraction: the Darcys’ two cockers, Sally and Hunter. The delightful creatures rushed to greet their masters, then progressed to provide an enthusiastic reception to the rest of us.

Their tails wagged at a furious pace as they pushed against each other, vying for the position closest to me with an affable rivalry. I crouched to stroke the cockers’ soft fur. “I cannot decide which of you is most adorable.”

Miss Darcy grinned. “They like you and your family. Dogs seem to sense which people favour them and which do not.”

We returned to the house, and the tour ended at the library, an area the size of our drawing-room at Longbourn. Mr. Darcy led me throughout the various sections. “The library at Pemberley is much larger, but I have amassed a diverse collection here. Please feel free to borrow anything you would like to read.”

“Thank you. I should be delighted to take you up on your kind offer.”

He stopped before a bookshelf. “You will find my latest acquisitions here.”

After perusing the indicated shelves, I pulled outCorinne, or Italy, a novel by Madame de Staël, and skimmed several random paragraphs; the text provided detailed descriptions of the Italian countryside. “I should like to read this as I have done little travelling, and I appreciate stories set in…” The words ‘Volume I’ on the cover caught my eye. “Oh, I did not realise there are multiple volumes.”

“That is not a concern. You made a fine choice. I suggest you take the first four books for now.”

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