judged him to be and you claim, would not be cowed in this matter any more than he was in pursuing his studies abroad. You have nothing to fear, I am sure of it.”
Georgiana rose to kiss Lizzy’s cheek. “Thank you, Lizzy. You always speak wisely and ease my fluttering heart.”
“Pardon the intrusion, Mrs. Darcy. Miss Darcy, this was delivered for you.”
They both started, not hearing the silent entry of the butler. Georgiana recovered and took the sealed envelope from Mr. Travers’s hand, absently thanking him as a vibrant smile spread over her face upon noting the sender. She tore the wax, moving toward the window as she read.
Lizzy grinned happily, turning her attention to Mr. Travers, who waited patiently. “Mrs. Darcy”—he bowed—“a servant from the Matlock townhouse delivered this.”
“Thank you, Mr. Travers. One moment, please.” She rapidly scanned the paper, smiling as she resumed, “Lord and Lady Matlock will be dining here tonight, as well as Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lady Simone. Could you please send word to Mrs. Smyth that I wish to speak with her and adjust the menu? At her convenience.”
He bowed and left the room, Lizzy returning her attention to Georgiana, who was rereading Mr. Butler’s letter for the third time now.
“From the silly expression on your face I presume your qualms have been allayed? Mr. Butler is in Town, probably has been waiting for days while you tarried and partied in Hertfordshire, and is aware of our arrival some twenty hours ago? The besotted man must be clairvoyant or have spies! Or have you been redirecting me when in truth you evaded William’s security forces and snuck out for a clandestine engagement last midnight?”
“You know the latter is not true,” Georgiana answered Lizzy’s tease with a giddy laugh, her eyes scanning the words. “Sadly the former is not true as yet. He wrote this two days past from Whistlenell Hall in Staffordshire. He anticipates arriving in the week after Easter. He writes cheerily and expresses nothing remiss.”
“As indeed I asserted! Are his declarations of unending love properly rendered with a wealth of poetic verse? He is a composer so I expect nothing less.”
Georgiana sighed, her cheeks rosy as she reread her beloved’s letter, lingering over every word especially the greeting to “My loveliest fiancee, Georgiana.”
“He manages sufficiently to appease my heart. And, no, I shall not share his affections, so do not ask!”
“Understood,” Lizzy agreed, laughing along with Georgiana. “I am delighted to hear he is to arrive soon. Not only because it will be lovely to meet Mr. Butler again, and under these blessed circumstances, but because I confess it is difficult to secret the news from William.”
“Oh, Lizzy! I apologize for placing you in an awkward situation! Perhaps I should speak to William myself and not wait for Mr. Butler.”
“No, dearest. I should not have spoken of it. And I do not necessarily mean that it is awkward as in feeling I am deceiving as much as I am bursting with happiness for you. I know William will be overjoyed and thus cannot wait to share with him; that is all I meant. I only pray he arrives prior to our departure to Kent.”
A worried frown creased Georgiana’s brow. “I had not thought of that. I shall inform him of your plans when I write tonight. Hopefully he can adjust his schedule to coincide as I would hate to postpone matters until later in April when you and William return.”
“I am positive all shall be well, even if we must delay our departure and enlighten William as to your engagement.”
“And not arrive on the precise day Lady Catherine expects you?” Georgiana asked with feigned horror. “Perish the thought!”
The echo of childish laughter interrupted any further discussion. Laughter was followed by a high-pitched shriek and a deep voice declaring in exaggerated ominous tones, “Run fast, tasty boy, or you shall be my breakfast!”
“Can no catch me, Uncle Goj!”
A loud roar mimicking a lion followed that bold declaration with the pounding of small and large feet growing louder by the second. Suddenly a triumphant roar and shrill yell burst forth simultaneously, two bodies barreling through the open parlor door. George rose to his full height, a red-faced and giggling Alexander dangling upside down across his shoulder.
“Greetings, ladies! I rescued this imp from the boredom of tracing the alphabet”—he shivered dramatically —“and now we are here to enliven the stuffiness of sewing. I believe a walk to the Park is the prescribed remedy. Michael is asleep, Mrs. Darcy, so I am here to rescue you.”
“I was not aware I needed rescuing, but a walk does sound lovely. I want to inspect the narcissus I hear are especially colorful this spring.”
George lowered Alexander to the floor head first, tickling as he rolled him onto his back. The toddler giggled breathlessly, squirming and wiggling until free from his uncle’s clutches whereupon he dashed to his mother.
“Nanny Lisa says I go with Uncle Goj and do letters later. We go see ducks, Mama, please?”
“I think feeding the poor starving ducks of Hyde Park a marvelous idea, sweetling.”
“Mrs. Darcy, you wished to see me?”
George turned, grinning broadly at Mrs. Smyth, who avoided his eyes and visibly winced when he boomed, “Good day, Mrs. Smyth! How are you this fine morning?”
“Quite well, Dr. Darcy. Thank you. Mrs. Dar…”
“Have you done something different to your hair, Mrs. Smyth?”
“Not at all, sir,” she answered primly.
“Hmm… I do not recall curls escaping your cap. Most lovely, I daresay. It becomes you. Ah! Look at how she blushes so delightfully! Do I detect the look of a woman in love? Is my heart to be devastated at your affection turned toward a secret amour?”
“George, do not tease Mrs. Smyth so shamelessly,” Lizzy said with a laugh, George bowing contritely with a hand over his heart.
“I do apologize, Mrs. Smyth. I fear my wits and good manners have escaped me in the overwhelming awe of so much beauty in one room.”
“Indeed,” the housekeeper coldly intoned, her face neutral except for a glimmer of supreme dislike directed toward George’s back when he turned away.
“What causes the rosiness to your cheeks, Georgie? Are all the women surrounding me falling in love?”
“Do not be ridiculous, Uncle. I may be forced to conclude that it is not beauty that scatters your wits but rather senility weakening your diagnostic skills! What a pity if we are required to hire a nurse to keep the drool away from your brilliant green and gold tunic.”
“If she is exceptionally comely I welcome the idea.” He wiggled his brows, a crooked grin flashing. “And is this suit not astounding? A package from India was awaiting me. Nimesh and Sasi, Jharna’s sons, keep me properly garbed, thank the Maker, as I would never wish to draw undue attention from outdated attire.” He winked, grabbed an apple off the tea tray, and tossed it into the air. It was caught deftly with one hand followed by a huge bite.
Mrs. Smyth stood ramrod straight, her pinched lips the only outward indication of her disgust as she listened to Mrs. Darcy’s dinner requests. Her responses were clipped but correctly rendered, her curtsy a bit stiff but adequate, and she left the parlor with her disdain well concealed. She did not look back and walked at a stately pace down the long corridor toward the kitchen. Each step took her further and further away from the voices and laughter pervading the parlor. Then, just as she reached the door to the housekeeper’s pantry located near the kitchen and the nervous twitch behind her left eye began to slacken as the noises fell to a dim murmur, another shrill, childish laugh pierced the relative hush followed by a loud, braying whoop. Her teeth clenched and the tic restarted at full force. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with her chatelaine to find the correct key and she barely managed to retain her dignity as she ducked into the insulated closet.
She fell onto the stool, head dropping against a pile of precision folded table napkins as her eyes closed in relief. Silence. Blessed silence. She inhaled vigorously, willing her heart to slow. The darkness in the closet with familiar scents of silver polish and laundered linens was calming. Her fingers played over the hard metal of her chatelaine and the grooves of the keys attached. It was a ready reminder of who she was.
It was a litany she repeated frequently and had done so ever since that horrid day over three years ago when
