Page 4 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
Grandmother Bennet’s advice was so contradictory to her mother’s that Elizabeth had to laugh.
“I promise to adhere to your strictures in this instance. Particularly since my face is covered and it is highly unlikely he will be able to recognise me.”
“I am not so certain, as I can see a gentleman approaching, and his eyes appear to be fixed on you, my dear.”
True enough, Master Fitzwilliam was walking decidedly in her direction, and she had but seconds to bolster her composure.
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Darcy,a few minutes earlier.
“You have garnered the attention of Queen Elizabeth, I believe. She is transfixed on you and has not looked away since we entered.”
Darcy glanced across the room; close to the door at the opposite end, a red-headed Queen Elizabeth abruptly turned away. He smiled and pondered who it could be.
“Father will be glad he did not attend. The queen is standing next to the newly appointed Marquess of Limerick,” Viscount Crawford informed his brother and cousin.
Darcy had no idea what Crawford was talking about. “I did not know his lordship had a squabble with the mighty Irishman.”
“It is a fairly recent development, though he has never liked the man. They quarrelled in the House of Lords about something or other when the marquess had the nerve to call my father an Irishman. Let us just say that he did not look favourably upon the sobriquet.”
“Is there any truth to it?” Darcy wondered.
“Not that I know of.” The viscount shrugged.
The queen was standing in between the marquess and a petite elderly lady who was chatting with the formidable Viscountess Melbourne. By their closeness and expressions, he surmised that their connection was of long standing, but who was the young lady? Darcy ran the few tall red-heads he knew through his mind but could think of no one who resembled the miss in question. It was certainly not Miss Bingley’s willowy figure. No stays in the world could enhance one that much.
“I have an idea,” the viscount announced, interrupting his ruminations. “Are you not out of favour with Father?”
“What do you mean?” Darcy probed.
“You were not best pleased he foisted Miss Throwbridge upon you at dinner last night.”
Viscount Crawford was correct in that assumption.
“She is a sixteen-year-old child,” he grumbled at his cousins.
“Their estate is conveniently close to Pemberley, and she has a significant fortune,” the colonel interjected.
“I have no interest in pursuing any of Georgiana’s friends,” Darcy remarked firmly. “Even if Uncle needs Lord Throwbridge’s vote for his new bill.”
“Yet, you cannot tear your eyes away from the delectable queen,” the viscount snickered.
“Do you know her?” Darcy queried. “I am trying to determine who she is, but I have had no luck so far.”
“Not precisely,” the viscount admitted. “She must be a distant relation of the marquess as he has no children of his own. The elderly lady beside him is his sister. I suppose the young miss could be either her daughter or granddaughter. Judging by the queen’s ample bosom, I am leaning towards the latter.”
“Montgomery!” Darcy admonished.
“Do not be such a prig. You know as well as I that certain things begin to sag with age…”
“Even I take umbrage with that!” the colonel protested.
“You are both so dull… Do you care to make it interesting?” The viscount did not relent; his brother’s and cousin’s admonishments had no effect on him.
Darcy had a fair inkling as to the direction of the viscount’s enquiry. He was always suggesting some form of wager. “I am certain I do not care to know.”
“I have ten guineas that are yours if you ask the Virgin Queen to dance. You have to dance with someone, you know, and it might as well be an acquaintance of Lady Melbourne’s as anyone else. If Father becomes a bit miffed you have danced with a relation of his current sparring partner, I would reckon that as a bonus.”
