Page 41 of Mr. Darcy's Complex Courtship

“That cannot be true—you do not know him well enough. This is an infatuation that will wane once you meet another handsome gentleman.”

She shook her head. “No, you are wrong. I have been infatuated before with Jason Lucas, Mr. Denny, and Mr. Wickham. But this is different—this feeling is so…powerful. Mr. Wood is the man I want to marry.”

I took her hand in mine. “That is not your decision. Gentlemen choose to whom they propose marriage. Besides, Mr. Wood is a great deal older than you. In all likelihood, he would prefer to wed a lady near his age.”

A tear dripped towards her cheek. “But…I do not believe any other lady could care for him the way I do.” She snuffled.

My arms slipped around her back. “Oh, Lydia. You are not being honest with yourself or with him. You do not even like ‘Greensleeves’.”

“I misjudged the song in the past. Upon reflection, it is not so bad.” She rested her head on my shoulder. “I wish I had been more like you. I could have learnt music, Italian, and even advanced mathematics years ago. You would have helped me. Maybe Papa would have too if I had asked him. I should be much further along in my studies if I had done so.” She sniffed. “Do you think Mr. Wood will fault me for beginning these lessons at my age?”

“I am certain he will not.”

Lydia stepped back and wiped a tear from beneath her eye. “I had better seek out Mrs. Perry and Aunt Gardiner. They deserve apologies from me. What should I say to them?”

“What matters most is to be sincere when you express your regret.”

She gave me a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Chapter 8: Lady Matlock Takes Charge

Tuesday, 2 June

Matlock House

Elizabeth

The Matlock home stood a mere two streets south of Fitzwilliam’s house and presented a similar facade. I tottered on the front steps and relied upon Uncle Gardiner’s arm to steady me.

“Easy there, Lizzy.” My uncle used a soothing tone. “You are not nervous, are you?”

“No.” I blurted my answer with false bravado. “Well, maybe a little.”

My gloved hand grazed the luxurious sarsnet fabric with lace trim that comprised my primrose-coloured gown—one of the new garments Aunt Gardiner had ordered for me. Thanks to her, I should at leastlooklike a fine society lady tonight.

My beloved, dashing Fitzwilliam greeted us in the entryway, and the overt admiration in his gaze diminished my anxiety. Once he had greeted my aunt and uncle, I took his proffered arm, and he directed us through the house. He lowered his head near mine. “You are a vision of beauty, Elizabeth.”

His words—and his proximity—made my pulse race, and I sought a teasing response to no avail. “I…um…thank you.” At the entrance to the elegant drawing-room, I took note of the occupants: Mr. Wood, a dignified older couple, and a stocky, handsome gentleman in his fourth decade who wore a smirk. I edged nearer to Fitzwilliam. “Where is Miss Darcy?”

“My aunt did not invite her, and Colonel Fitzwilliam had another obligation.” He led us to the earl and countess, released my arm, and performed the introductions.

The grey-haired and stern-faced Lord Matlock stood as tall as Mr. Darcy, though his oversized girth made for a stark contrast in form.

A sprinkling of silver blended with the petite and genteel countess’s light-brown hair. She appeared to be my height or a bit shorter and maintained a confident air. When I became the subject of her scrutiny, I battled the urge to fidget.

The imposing viscount, Lord Berkeley, bore a slight resemblance to Fitzwilliam, though he shared the same strong chin and prominent cheekbones as his brother, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

When we took seats, Mr. Darcy placed me beside him on a settee opposite the earl, countess, and viscount. Mr. Wood satto my left, and my aunt and uncle occupied chairs to the right of Mr. Darcy. A servant offered glasses of claret, and I accepted one.

Lord Matlock cleared his throat. “Miss Bennet, I must apologise to you on behalf of my sister, Lady Catherine, for her unpardonable conduct. I assure you that she is most remorseful.”

“Under the circumstances, my lord, I found it easy to forgive her ladyship. May I ask how Miss de Bourgh fares?”

“My wife saw her most recently.” The earl turned to Lady Matlock.

“I spent two days at Rosings Park last week.” The countess spoke in a halting cadence. “Anne’s health has deteriorated to the point where she has little energy or appetite and rarely leaves her rooms.”

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