occupies a branch somewhere in my family tree, but he died childless, so I’m uncertain exactly how he fits in. I also don’t know how this mirror found its way to Norland, as his main estate was in Buckinghamshire. But when I saw it, I simply had to bring it back here with me.'
His valet entered. The servant removed Mr. Dashwood’s coat and started to unfasten his cuffs.
Darcy took this as his cue to leave. 'Shall I await you in the drawing room?'
'No. Do stay! I’ve always aspired to be like Beau Brummell, entertaining visitors while completing my toilette.' He shed his rumpled shirt for a clean one.
'Quite a lofty ambition,' Darcy said dryly.
'I wish I had but half his skill with cravats.' The valet offered a highly starched neckcloth. Harry stationed himself before the mirror. 'What do you think, Mr. Darcy? Should I try the mathematical today? Or settle for the Napoleon? Which does Miss Bennet prefer?'
'I am not privy to Miss Bennet’s opinions on the subject of gentlemen’s neckwear.' Darcy ardently wished for another topic of conversation altogether. To emulate the vain Brummell’s practice of holding court in his dressing room seemed the most ridiculous form of idolatry. A rooster imitating a peacock.
Mr. Dashwood attempted the mathematical, fumbled its folds, and had to discard the cloth for a fresh one. 'I’m told Brummell often goes through stacks of neckcloths before achieving perfection.'
'Such a practice sounds like an incredible waste of his own and his servants’ time.'
Mr. Dashwood met Darcy’s gaze in the mirror. His natural exuberance dimmed at the disapproval he detected in Darcy’s eyes. 'I suppose you are right in that.' He began tying the next cravat in the simpler Napoleon style.
Darcy studied Mr. Dashwood’s reflection. He was so very young — not only in age, but also in knowledge of the world. In many ways, Darcy had never been that young. But he also recalled his own sense of lost direction in the period following his father’s death. Harry Dashwood was even younger than he had been, and Darcy suspected his own foundation was steadier than Dashwood’s to begin with. Perhaps cravats and looking glasses claimed Harry’s attention because he did not feel adequate to the responsibilities he had just inherited along with John Dashwood’s estate.
Darcy regretted the mild criticism he’d tendered. 'Forgive me. I meant only that an intelligent man benefits from devoting his resources to more worthwhile endeavors. And you strike me as a man possessing the potential to do much more with his life than Mr. Brummell ever will.'
Mr. Dashwood turned from the mirror to face Darcy directly. 'I do?'
'Did you not, I would never have come here today bearing an invitation. If you are not previously engaged, Mrs. Darcy would be pleased to have you at her table tonight for dinner.'
'Tell her I am most gratified and look forward to her hospitality. Will Miss Bennet be among the party?'
'Assuredly.'
'Then I can think of no pleasanter way to spend an evening.'
Seven o’clock had been the appointed hour for Mr. Dashwood to present himself at the Darcys’ townhouse. He arrived at half past six, bearing flowers for Kitty and a bouquet of apologies for his hostess.
'Pardon my untimely appearance,' he said as Elizabeth received him in the drawing room, 'but the anticipated delight of seeing Miss Bennet this evening caused the day to grow unbearably long. At last I found I could not wait thirty minutes longer.'
'You may have to,' Elizabeth replied, 'as my sister is still readying for dinner. But I will tell her you are come.'
In truth, the announcement was hardly necessary. Like a thunderclap proclaiming the arrival of a spring storm, Mr. Dash-wood’s presence reverberated throughout the house, sending Kitty into a flustered frenzy of preparations she’d thought she had more time to complete. Elizabeth had left her upstairs rushing to make up her toilette, torn between equally violent desires to perfect her appearance and have done with it.
Elizabeth believed, however, that she could forgive Mr. Dashwood nearly anything with an earnest devotion to Kitty as its motive. She gestured toward the flowers. 'Shall I deliver those to Kitty now, or would you prefer to present them to her yourself?'
'Oh, please take them now, with my most sincere compliments.'
She was spared the trip by the immediate entrance of Kitty herself, wearing an entirely different gown than the one in which Elizabeth had seen her just minutes earlier. Her hair was attractively arranged, though swept into a much simpler style than the maid had been working on when Elizabeth left to greet their visitor.
Mr. Dashwood presented his flowers and compliments to the lady, who accepted both with equal delight.
'I adore daffodils! Are they from Norland’s gardens?'
'Covent Garden, I’m afraid. My trip to Norland did, however, inspire the gift. The daffodils and crocuses were in bloom, and as I walked the grounds, I found myself thinking of you and wishing you could see them. I consulted my gardener about bringing some back for you, but we both doubted they would survive the journey from Sussex.'
'If they arrived utterly wilted, I should have valued them. But I do appreciate these.' She admired the bouquet again before relinquishing it to a servant for placement in a vase.
They were joined presently by Darcy and Georgiana, and soon went down to dinner. Mr. Dashwood enquired how Kitty had kept busy in his absence. She rattled off their list of entertainments.
'I declare, Miss Bennet,' he said when she’d finished, 'you have been more engaged in a single day than I was the entire se’nnight.'
'Did you conclude your business at Norland?' Darcy asked.
'Yes and no. I handled the affairs that originally took me there, but it seemed that with every dispatch, another item of business arose to take its place.'
Darcy nodded, his eyes reflecting perfect understanding. 'As your father no doubt taught you, proper management of an estate requires constant vigilance. Even when in town, I maintain close communication with my steward. Rarely do more than two days pass without a letter between us.'
'Indeed?' Mr. Dashwood appeared surprised by the revelation. He seemed about to say more, but Kitty spoke.
'I hope these new matters won’t force you to leave again?'
'Actually, I intend to return to Norland three weeks hence.'
Disappointment clouded Kitty’s face. 'So very soon?'
'Yes, but for another reason entirely. My twenty-first birthday approaches, and I’ve decided to celebrate with a country house party at Norland. It is my dearest hope, Miss Bennet, that you and your family will honor me with your company.'
'Lizzy, may we go? Do say we might!'
Elizabeth cast Kitty a mild look that bade her show a little restraint.
'The grand fete will be Friday the thirtieth,' Mr. Dashwood continued. 'I am inviting most of the guests to arrive on Wednesday, but I would be delighted if you could come on Tuesday so that I might show Miss Bennet — show all four of you — Norland before the house becomes crowded.'
Kitty held her tongue but now begged just as passionately with her eyes.
Of course they would attend. Elizabeth would hardly deny Kitty the opportunity to see the home of a man with whom she seemed to be forming an attachment. But, wanting to keep her younger sister in suspense a bit longer, she glanced to Darcy. 'That is after Easter. Does not the London season pick up once Lent has passed?'
'It does. There will be balls, and masquerades, and many more routs.'
She nodded gravely. 'Perhaps we ought not leave town just as much of the
Kitty appeared ready to burst. 'Oh, forget the silly
Elizabeth raised her brows, her astonishment only half-exaggerated. That statement would never have issued from her sister’s lips two weeks earlier. 'Are you not afraid of missing something momentous in our absence?'
'For heaven’s sake, Lizzy! What could be more exciting than visiting Norland and celebrating Mr. Dashwood’s birthday?'
