Page 27 of Her Whole Heart
“Oh, there is Miss Torrington with her father,” Elizabeth said with pleasure. Miss Torrington was the most delightful woman. She had informed Elizabeth she possessed neither the wish nor the need to marry. Her mother had died of an illness a decade before, and, as she had no siblings, she was her father’s only heir.
“I would happily give it all away if I could have my mother back with me,” she had told Elizabeth wistfully, “but as it is, I have enough to do the things I like without anyone to gainsay me. I cannot imagine ever findinga man who would permit it, and why would I would marry only to allow a husband to enjoy what he likes while giving up everything I do?”
“Good day,” Elizabeth said cheerfully, as Miss Torrington rode up on a magnificent chestnut bay. Her father, a stout man with silvering hair and a neatly trimmed beard, touched his hat but did not approach, allowing his daughter to take the lead. “I did not expect to see you here.”
“Father insisted,” Miss Torrington said with a half smile and a quick glance over her shoulder. “I shall not keep you long, but I was hoping to invite you all to tea on Friday.”
“I have an engagement on Friday,” Lady Carlisle said, “but I can have a carriage made ready for you, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I hope to see Miss Hamilton as well if she is available,” Miss Torrington said, reaching up to adjust a blonde curl away from her face.
Lady Carlisle smiled. “I am sure she would be very pleased to attend you, Miss Torrington.”
“Excellent,” Miss Torrington said. “I saw Miss Loughty speaking with you. I enjoyed meeting her the other night, so I shall catch her up and invite her as well. In the meantime, I look forward to hearing about the arc lamp—was that not today?”
“We just left the lecture. It was marvellous,” Elizabeth assured her.
“Elizabeth will be able to explain how it works,” Jane said proudly to Miss Torrington, then addressed their guest. “Is not that right, Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together at her sister’s unusual pique, and Miss Torrington lifted her brows.
“Miss Elizabeth has a detailed working knowledge of the Davy lamp, Miss Torrington,” he said as stiffly as he did everything else.
Miss Torrington’s lips twitched, but she inclined her head. “Until Friday, then.”
“We shall look forward to it,” Jane said with real warmth, and Miss Torrington rode back to her father.
“My goodness,” Lady Carlisle said, once she had gone. “Miss Torrington is a very good friend to have made, Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Darcy frowned, but Elizabeth could not say whether he was frowning at the notion that Miss Torrington might be of some significance or that was just the way his face always looked.
“Why is that, Lady Carlisle?” she asked.
“Miss Torrington is from a very old family. Her branch is untitled, of course, but there are two cousins who are rather important MPs, one a near relation and the other more distant. Her father himself is a wealthy man who owns a great deal of land in Kensington and the counties south of town. She is a distant cousin to the Duke of Saltford on her mother’s side, and has been friends with his son, Marquess Castleton, since they were children. She even introduced him to his wife.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened. “Saltford, did you say?”
The countess smiled. “I did.”
They waited for Mr. Darcy to explain, but he simply shook his head and uttered a small, strangled sound as his cheeks reddened.
How curious.
Lady Carlisle paid him no mind. “She is her father’s hostess as well as his sole heir, and she does not suffer fools gladly. I think she has been rather sharp with some of the men who believed she would be theirs for the asking, and they have not been kind.” A small, ironic smile graced her countenance. “Therefore, she has not mixed much in our society. I must thank you for bringing Amelia to her attention.”
The countess had been distantly pleasant to Elizabeth from the moment she and Jane had arrived, but now there was something else in her eyes. Interest.
Mr. Darcy shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, but Elizabeth did her best to ignore him. She had never met a man who seemed so constantly discomfited.
“Rumour has it that Miss Torrington is to hold a salon this season, and as she rarely invites anyone out to Kensington, it is likely to be well attended.” Lady Carlisle nodded. “If you two are her particular friends, you will be certain to receive an invitation. Perhaps the marquess and his wife will attend. Yes, well done indeed.”
Another of Darcy’s pronouncements was now revealed to be in error. Was he destined to be proven wrong-headed at every turn? He had heard the men at the club speak of Miss Torrington, but he had never been properly introduced to her. He had not realised how young she was—she could not be more than twenty-five or thereabouts, not yet the confirmed spinster he had heard of. And she was certainly well connected enough to support more than one eccentric hobby. Though Darcy preferred dark-haired ladies himself, Miss Torrington’s blonde tresses and statuesque figure would have brought her many admirers, were it not for the fact that she often wore a bird of prey on her arm like some women wore bracelets.
He shook his head at himself. He had very affectionate memories of his mother, and so his belief about the coins was readily excused. But listening to bombastic braggarts at the club making disparaging remarks about a lady ought to have made him inquire further, not accept their descriptions of her without question. He had believed himself cleverer than that. He was deeply grateful he had not written to Lord Carlisle about Miss Torrington, though Fitz would be only too happy to harangue him about speaking soquickly.
Darcy's thoughts whirled as he glanced about the park, seeing nothing but members of fashionable society risking frozen digits to display their sartorial splendour. It felt superficial. Ridiculous. Absurd. Once again he thought that, despite his promise to his uncle, he might not wish to attend the entire season. He was certainly proving himself unprepared.
Just as unprepared as he had been to see the Bennet women in their elaborate cloaks and hats. Miss Bennet was a beautiful woman, but the light blue cloak against Miss Elizabeth’s dark hair and eyes was stunning, entrancing—it was as though he was back at the Ashfords' ball again, dancing with her, feeling the pitch of the deck in a stormy sea. And it had not gone unnoticed, for several men he knew had already tipped their hats to her.
