The Matters at Mansfield: (Or, the Crawford Affair) (Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mysteries) (22 page)

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Authors: Carrie Bebris

“
My good qualities are under your protection, and you are to exaggerate them as much as possible.
”

—
Elizabeth to Darcy,
Pride and Prejudice

M
r. and Mrs. Darcy returned home from their Mansfield misadventure to a joyful reunion with their daughter. They had missed her in the weeks of their absence, and now, free of the confining inn and its confining company, indulged in long walks in Pemberley’s gardens with Lily-Anne and rambles through its woods with each other as autumn arrived to paint the landscape. Within doors, Mama and Papa spoiled Lily-Anne quite shamelessly, and were rewarded by the sight of not one, but two teeth every time she smiled.

They had been home little more than a fortnight when Darcy surprised Elizabeth one evening with a parcel. He entered her dressing room and offered it to her with a mysterious air.

She set aside her needlework. “What is this?”

“A present.”

“Whatever for?”

“Do I require a reason?”

“A dutiful husband never requires a reason.” She accepted the parcel and motioned for him to sit beside her. “In fact, perhaps you ought to impart that advice to Colonel Fitzwilliam to ensure his domestic felicity.”

“I doubt he needs counsel from me. He and Anne seem well in the way of happiness, despite the precarious path that brought them to it.”

She thought of Anne, and of her sister Kitty, whose own path to marital happiness had not been smooth. And of Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, whose destination had yet to be determined but who, under the influence of Mr. Wickham, had almost taken a fatal misstep along the way. “It seems that many a proper young lady must negotiate a precarious path to happiness, past the bounders and Lady Catherines in their lives.”

“That is why many a proper lady herself
becomes
a Lady Catherine, attempting to reduce the peril by directing the affairs of others in the manner she determines best.”

Elizabeth considered her own daughter, asleep in the nursery. Every impulse drove her to protect Lily-Anne from tears and tumbles and childhood ills, and eventually from the Henry Crawfords of the world. But there were other ways of protecting one’s children, and oneself, without using the guise of civility to manipulate others in a manner that was in truth not at all civilized.

“I will never evolve into such a ‘lady,’ ” she declared.

“No, you shan’t, for it is not in your nature.” In a lighter tone, he added, “And you have other means of defense.”

He gestured toward the parcel. “Now—deny no longer my pleasure in giving that to you.”

She studied his expression, trying to make out his intent. Failing, she offered him an arch look of her own. “I am all curiosity.”

She removed the wrapping paper to discover a small rosewood case engraved with her initials. She could not imagine what it might contain. “The case alone is lovely,” she said.

“Open it.”

She did—and laughed. “It is a most romantic gift.”

“I thought you would like it.”

“I do indeed,” she said earnestly. “It is absolutely exquisite, and my mere possession of it shall make me the envy of all the other ladies of my acquaintance.”

She lifted it out of the box, turned it over in her hands, and raised her eyes to meet his. “But whatever shall I do with it?”

“Your shooting lessons commence tomorrow.”