He surveyed the chrysanthemums, chose a grouping of plants, and settled down to his task.
“May I help?” she offered.
“You already have,” he said. “It might not be my place to say so, ma’am, but I expect her ladyship appreciated your being there at sunrise.”
Elizabeth returned to the house to find Darcy already dressed and breakfasting. Generally an early riser, he had become even more so since arriving home from Gloucestershire. She knew the unsettled state of affairs involving Northanger caused him restlessness that interfered with his sleep. Either that, or he wanted to be clear of the breakfast room before Lady Catherine entered it.
“I was wondering where you had hidden yourself this morning,” he said when he saw her.
“Did not Lucy tell you?”
“I did not ask her.”
As the room was empty of anyone save him, she kissed his cheek before heading to the sideboard. The morning’s activities and unusually early start had left her famished. “I awoke with the sudden urge to beg your aunt’s permission to name our child after her. I rousted her from bed to make my supplication, and was rewarded not only with her consent, but with pledges of her everlasting regard and affection for me. We have been closeted together these several hours planning her permanent residence at Pemberley so that we need never part.”
She sat down beside him, and he covered her left hand with his. “As credible as I find your explanation, I believe you instead have been out walking again.”
“How did you know?”
“Your eyes are brightened by the exercise. And your fingers are cold.”
She snatched her hand away. “Here I thought you were being tender. You only wanted to gather evidence.”
“There is also a flower petal in your hair.” He removed the yellow floret and set it on the table. “Chrysanthemum?”
“I laid flowers on the graves of your siblings this morning.” She watched his countenance as she spoke. “I hope I did not overstep?”
“No,” he said quietly. “In fact, I am pleased that you wanted to do so. As matriarch of the Darcy family, you ought to take part in all our traditions. I should have told you of today’s observance myself. How did you come to learn of it?”
“Mr. Flynn.”
“Of course. You said you went to my mother’s garden yesterday.” He continued eating his breakfast. “Speaking of my mother, I have asked Mrs. Reynolds about her correspondence, and she believes it went to one of the attics in a trunk. Would you like it brought down?”
“Yes — to my dressing room.” There she could read through it without fear of intrusion by Lady Catherine. “Would you care to read the letters with me?”
“I can join you this afternoon, but I must spend the morning in conference with Mr. Clarke regarding the harvest feast.”
Mr. Clarke likely needed as little instruction in the feast preparations as Mrs. Reynolds had — indeed, the servants were so well versed in their responsibilities that Elizabeth had felt more like a guest than the hostess when she had reviewed the details with the staff. She looked forward to the celebration as a welcome distraction from recent events in Gloucestershire. And from their current houseguest.
“Have you many particulars yet to settle?”
“Mr. Clarke has everything in order — I just want to review it all before Mr. Harper arrives. An express came while you were out, advising us to expect him on the morrow.”
“Thank goodness. I suppose neither Mr. Clarke nor I shall see much of you while Mr. Harper is at Pemberley?”
“Yes, although once we confer, he is of most use to me in Gloucestershire and London, where he can build our case and engage a barrister to argue for us in court, if it comes to that.”
“Perhaps he can also persuade Mr. Melbourne that this custody arrangement with Lady Catherine is entirely unnecessary.”
“I thought you had become intimate friends?”
“An intimacy best enjoyed from a distance.”
Though he had finished his own breakfast, Darcy remained in the room with her until she finished hers. She was happy for his companionship, as she felt as if she had not seen much of him since their return to Pemberley. When her appetite — both for food and for his conversation — was appeased, he rose.
“You will accompany me and Georgiana at noon, then?”
“I would not miss it.”
After spending an hour in her morning room, she made her way back to their apartment. Mrs. Reynolds stopped her in the hall. “I have just spoken to Mr. Darcy. Lady Anne’s papers are being brought to your dressing room now, ma’am.”
“Already? Thank you.”
“Ma’am?” She paused. “You did want
“Yes, all of it.” The unusually early start to her day had left her with several unoccupied hours until noon, and she looked forward to leisurely perusing the letters.
“Very good, ma’am. I just wanted to be certain.”
Elizabeth regarded her dressing room in astonishment. Or rather, what had once been her dressing room. It now resembled a coachyard full of luggage.
“There are two more trunks still in the attic, ma’am,” said one of the footmen as he and a partner set their most recent burden on the floor.
“Leave them there for now, or I shall not be able to cross the room.”
Indeed, when the men left, she barely had space to shut the door. Nine trunks, and more upstairs yet.
She lifted the lid of one and found it full of letters. How many letters could fit inside a trunk? One hundred? Three? This was not a task to be undertaken without reinforcements. Hearing sounds of movement in her bedroom, she maneuvered her way to that door. A housemaid tidied the chamber.
“Do you know whether Miss Darcy has risen?” Elizabeth asked.
The maid paused in sweeping the carpet. “I believe Miss Darcy is with her aunt, ma’am.”
Elizabeth had no desire to interrupt that tete-a-tete. She would seek Georgiana later.
“Is there anything else, ma’am?”
“No. Yes — I do not believe I have seen you before.”
“Just started recently, ma’am. Name’s Jenny.” She spoke in an accent that sounded even more northern than the Derbyshire inflections to which Elizabeth was becoming accustomed.
“Are you far from home?”
“A ways, ma’am. But happy to be here.”
Elizabeth offered her a smile. “Welcome to Pemberley, Jenny.”
With a deep breath, she turned back to the dressing room. Nine trunks, each likely containing hundreds of letters. Where did one begin?
“Jenny, when you have finished with the bedchamber, I believe I shall need some tea.”
Where shall I begin? Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first?
