A plump woman with a sprinkling of grey in her dark hair approached them as the butler fled. “I am afraid the master is not at home.”
“I have been so informed,” Papa replied. “Mr. Darcy has been my guest for the past several months. He will not mind if we await him here.”
The woman’s expression softened. “You must be General Bennet, then,” she said, and Papa gave her a shallow bow. “I am Mrs. Yardley. Please, do come in. The drawing room is still undergoing some repairs, but there is a smaller parlour just here where the fire is already lit. It should be quite comfortable.”
Elizabeth allowed her father to guide her to a settee near the hearth and sank gratefully into the cushions. She leaned forward and stretched her hands out to the warmth. After a moment, she felt better.
“Are you well, Elizabeth?” her father asked, his voice low.
She was embarrassed. To be overcome in such a way, and before Papa! His respect for her must certainly sink in the face of such feebleness.
“I am well, Papa. I am simply . . .”
“Concerned for your intended. I understand, my dear.”
“Might I send up a glass of wine? A cup of tea?” Mrs. Yardley was peering at her rather queerly.
She must look a fright. “Tea would be lovely,” Elizabeth replied, rallying herself somewhat. “And may we send a note? I am afraid I left our companion home with my sisters. My aunt Gardiner will know someone to send.”
“Mr. Darcy’s neighbours have a companion awaiting their arrival next week, a Mrs. Gray,” Mrs. Yardley said. “I spoke with her a few days ago when I had a visit with their housekeeper. Perhaps she would be willing to serve.”
Her father nodded. “I would appreciate that.” He turned to Elizabeth. “For all my insistence that my daughters are gentlewomen, I thought my presence would be enough. I ought to have considered it, Elizabeth. Forgive me.”
Mrs. Yardley hurried out.
“It is only for the appearance of things, Papa,” Elizabeth replied in a distracted sort of way. “Mr. Darcy would never take liberties with any young lady.”
Papa sat next to her and patted her knee. “Darcy has Fitzwilliam with him, Lizzy, and they are both excellent soldiers. They will be fine.”
She nodded, not entirely convinced but wishing to be. “And you sent the Anders cousins and Mr. Hardiman to assist.”
Papa lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, though you had as much to do with that as I. The lot of them will sort things out, should there be a need.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth followed the sour butler’s example and took a very deep breath before releasing it. “I beg your pardon, Papa. I do not know what came over me.”
“You love him, Lizzy, as I loved your mother. It makes you weak, sometimes,” he told her affectionately, “but it also makes you strong.”
The fire and the tea helped warm her, and it was not long after she finished her second cup that there was a commotion at the front door. She heard voices, Mrs. Yardley’s among them. Her father stood and stepped out into the hall.
A moment later Mr. Darcy was in the room. “Elizabeth. You are here.”
His complexion was pale, and there were grey half-moons beneath his eyes, but he spoke warmly. “Mr. Darcy,” she replied, standing to greet him.
He strode to stand before her and took her hands, her anxiety dissipating at his touch. “You are a wonderful sight, love,” he told her. “I thank you for sending the Anderses and Hardiman. Their timing was impeccable.”
Her breathing quickened. “So they were necessary?”
He lifted his shoulders in question. “Fitzwilliam and I would have managed, but it was better to have the assistance.”
A flaw in the sleeve of his coat caught her eye, and she turned his arm to see it. It was a tear, a long one, and not along a seam.
“What happened here?” she inquired.
“I did not notice that before,” he murmured. “Must have caught it on something.” He offered her a sheepish smile. “The tailor will have my head, for it was quite new.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, suspecting what that something might have been. Never mind. He was before her, hale and hearty, if somewhat lacking in sleep. “Mr. Darcy,” she said evenly, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze.
“Yes?” He flinched a bit, most likely expecting a reproof for his prevarication, well meant as it had been.