Page 79 of Mr. Darcy's Complex Courtship

“We recovered your luggage as well, and I have one other item for you.” I removed the necklace from my pocket and handed it to her.

“My cross!” Her fingers tenderly traced the peridot stones. “Thank you so much!” She shot forwards and kissed my cheek.

What the devil is this?Taken aback, it took me a few seconds to respond and move away from her. I took a quick glance around us. The only others present, a couple of men who sat in a corner of the room, seemed to pay us no mind.

Miss Nicholson raised her fingers to her mouth, and a crimson tint infused her complexion. “Please forgive me. It is not my custom to be so forward. I meant to express my appreciation for the exceptional help you have provided my father and me.” She lowered her hands and moved them behind her back. “I hope you will accept my apology. The last thing I should want is to offend you.”

“Think nothing of it. However, you ought to know the credit for today’s success goes to Mr. Plowman for his expedient investigation. I merely accompanied him to assist.”

“I shall be certain to thank him as well.” She canted her head, her eyes glinting. “But with a bit less…zeal, I should think.”

A vision of her kissing the magistrate and his resultant startled expression popped into my head, and I bit back a smile. “If you will excuse me.”

“Yes, of course.” She stepped to the side to clear the way, and I continued to my room.

An hour later, a maid delivered a note from Mr. Nicholson. He thanked me for my part in the arrest of the second robber and extended an open invitation to visit his estate at any time of my choosing. He related his plan to leave for home on Monday morning. Then he asked a favour of me: he cited his daughter’sfondness for music and enquired whether I might accompany her to the concert tonight in the assembly room.

I paced in my chamber, contemplating excuses I might provide for declining Mr. Nicholson’s request. But I had already decided to go; and it would be awkward if after my refusal, the Nicholsons discovered I had attended. I replied, indicating I should be pleased to escort her. Nothing—not the presence of Miss Nicholson, or Mr. Bennet, or anything else—would prevent me from speaking to Elizabeth tonight.

Chapter 14: A Startling Confrontation

Saturday, 4 July

Mr. Baxter’s House, Bedford

Elizabeth

After dinner, I went to my room to ready myself for the concert. I feigned indecision with Mr. Baxter’s maid, Rachel, and compelled her to change my gown to the one I had intended to wear all along: a stylish dress of pale pink taffeta. Papa and Mr. Baxter accepted my apology for the delay with grace, and my manoeuvre ensured we arrived after most of the others in attendance had taken their seats.

Upon our entrance to the public building, Mr. Baxter called out to a couple walking ahead of us. After introducing the pair—Mr. Plowman, the local magistrate, and his wife—to my father and me, Mr. Baxter proceeded to congratulate the bald gentleman for his celebrated arrest of two highwaymen.

While the gregarious Mrs. Plowman pressed my father for details of our estate, the magistrate bade me walk with him to the host, so I complied. We obtained programmes for the evening’s performance, and he directed me to a painting on the wall depicting the Great Ouse, a substantial river in Bedford that spanned several counties.

This landscape paled in comparison to Mr. Miles’s work, but I refrained from voicing that thought. “It is lovely.”

“I have met an acquaintance of yours by the name of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.” His aside drew my gaze from the painting.

“Oh?” My voice cracked. How could this have come to pass? If Mr. Darcy knew I was in the area, he had to have observed me earlier today outside the inn. But why would he have mentioned me to Mr. Plowman?

“The gentleman is quite eager to speak with you.” His eyes narrowed. “You…um…doknow him, do you not?”

“Yes, we are…he is a friend.”

“Well, he has an important message to impart, and he indicated his intention of coming here tonight.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the information.” I should have little choice but to speak to him. Perspiration cemented the smooth, silk cloth of my gown to my back. Well, I should be collected and treat him as I should any other friend.

The host advised us the performance would begin soon, so we proceeded into the concert room. With most of the seats already taken, the five of us settled in the back row. Minutes later, the orchestra began playing a familiar tune fromLe nozze di Figaro.

I itched to query Mr. Plowman. Among other questions, I wanted to ask when he had met Mr. Darcy, how the topic of me had come up, and what had brought Mr. Darcy to Bedford. But I could not mention Mr. Darcy with my father present lest I provoke an argument.

From my vantage ground, I could peruse the audience at my leisure. According to the programme, the concert would last over an hour. I soon spotted Mr. Darcy, whose head rose above most in the room. When the tall lady seated to his right turned and spoke to him—the same lady from the inn—I shrank down in my seat. Each time she drew near him to make another comment, the pressure in my chest increased. Nevertheless, the pair absorbed me, and I did not spare a vestige of notice for the efforts of the musicians, however worthy they may have been.

At the concert’s conclusion, Mr. and Mrs. Plowman engaged Papa and Mr. Baxter in conversation.

With the intent of providing Mr. Darcy an opportunity to approach me in relative privacy, I touched my father’s arm. “I shall take a turn at the back of the room to read the notices.”

He gave me a nod.

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