Page 4 of Before She Knew Him

He had observed her as unobtrusively as possible since joining the party, and both Mr and Mrs Reynolds had spoken well of the visitors. When Mr Reynolds had informed him of his son’s desire to invite them to tea, he had added, “Mrs Gardiner is a very genteel sort of woman, sir, and I remember her parents well. It was a great loss to the neighbourhood when her father died and the family removed to London, but it appears to have answered well for her. Her husband may be in trade, but he conducts himself far more like a gentleman than many I have met.”

George had acknowledged this with little more than a nod, but his interest had been engaged. Mrs Reynolds had subsequently mentioned Miss Bennet’s delight in the house, particularly her desire to see the library.

Some of the party’s conversation had also reached him directly. His study door had stood slightly ajar when the visitors passed through the adjoining corridor, and he had heard Miss Bennet speak of the rooms with appreciation for their harmony rather than the expense of their furnishings. She had acknowledged their elegance without suggesting alterations or appearing eager to display her own discernment.

It was a manner of admiration rarely encountered, particularly in one so young.

He recalled another young lady who had visited earlier that summer—the sister of one of his son’s university friends—whose presence, though not included in the invitation extended to her brother, had apparently been considered indispensable by the lady herself. She had expressed rapturous admiration for every room she entered. Later, within the hearing of the servants, she had spoken at length of the alterations necessary to make Pemberley resemble something far grander, such as Rosings Park. Doubtless, if that lady had visited his wife’s sister’s estate, she would consider it her ideal.

George Darcy had no wish to see Pemberley rendered in that style. Rosings was over-ornamented, and there was scarcely a chair within it in which one might sit with comfort. The Darcys, however, had always preferred an understated elegance. His refusal to yield to Lady Catherine’s opinions regarding the decoration at Pemberley—and his refusal to agree to the betrothal of their children—had always been a source of contention between the two.

Miss Bennet had neither praised the house extravagantly nor found fault merely to display her discernment. She had simply admired it. There was nothing studied in her manner and no obvious attempt to recommend herself—only a sincerity thathad engaged his attention, particularly after her encounter with his son.

The library was not ordinarily included in the tour, but Mrs Reynolds had permitted Miss Bennet a glimpse after she expressed an interest in seeing it. By the housekeeper’s account, the young lady had been delighted by the sheer number of volumes and had plainly valued the books for what they contained rather than for the wealth they represented.

It was evident that Miss Bennet valued books—and that alone recommended her more than she could know.

“Pray, Miss Bennet, you must take some of these pastries,” Mrs Reynolds was saying, as cups were distributed among the party. “They are a favourite of the family, and Cook prepares them exceedingly well. The strawberries are particularly fine at this time of year.”

The party had just been served when the door opened once more and his son stepped into the room. George Darcy watched them both closely, to see how they would react.

As he had expected, Miss Bennet’s cheeks warmed as the party stood; he had presumed she had discovered her error in the gallery earlier. It was his son’s expression, however, that most engaged his attention.

“Father,” Fitzwilliam said, with rather more feeling than he was accustomed to display, “will you introduce me to our guests?”

George Darcy did the honours and observed that his son greeted each of the party with his usual composure. When he came to Miss Bennet, however, his attention lingered upon her for a moment longer than courtesy required.

Not long after, having been served his tea, Fitzwilliam took a seat near her and, with little hesitation, entered into conversation with the young lady.

By chance, the two were placed at some remove from the others, and George Darcy did what he could to encourage the arrangement by engaging her chaperons.

“And how long do you intend to remain in the area?” he asked Mr Gardiner.

He noticed that Mr Gardiner, too, cast a brief glance toward the younger pair; yet, seeing nothing to give him concern, he answered readily.

“We have been in Lambton these two days, and intend to remain another se’nnight before returning south. We had thought to travel as far as the Lakes this summer, but circumstances required us to shorten our journey, and we must now be home by the end of July.”

“You are staying at the inn—the Rose and Crown?”

Mr Gardiner inclined his head.

George Darcy, who had already begun to form a plan by which his son might enjoy further acquaintance with the young lady, allowed it to proceed without delay.

“I should be pleased if you and your family would join us for dinner tomorrow evening. And, on the following day, perhaps we might arrange a picnic—or even accompany you in your excursions about the neighbourhood. My daughter, Georgiana, is still in the schoolroom this morning, but I believe she would take great pleasure in making your niece’s acquaintance. With afew such opportunities, they might naturally become known to one another, which could prove of benefit to them both.”

What he did not say was that, although he wished his daughter to meet so agreeable a young lady, he was rather more interested in affording his son the opportunity of knowing her better. It was for that reason he had been so well satisfied to extend the invitation for tea.

Already, he perceived that Fitzwilliam was far from indifferent. There was none of his usual reserve, none of his habitual reluctance to engage. Whatever mortification might have attended their earlier meeting had been set aside; they were already conversing with an ease that did not escape his notice.

On the otherside of the room, Darcy approached the young lady carefully after their introduction. He could tell she had been mortified by her earlier mistake, and he immediately sought to put her at ease—an unfamiliar position for him.

“Do not trouble yourself,” he said quietly as he made to sit beside her. “I was not attired as a gentleman, and you could not have known I was anything other than the labourer I appeared to be.”

“I realised who you were as soon as I viewed your portrait in the gallery,” Miss Bennet replied, speaking just as softly as he had. “You were very kind to answer all my questions and to put up with my comments; I know I am entirely too inquisitive. My mother often chides me for asking too many questions.”

“You were charming,” Darcy said, and felt his cheeks heat at the unintended admission. “I promise I was not offended by yourmistake, and truly, one can hardly fault you for it when I was dressed as I was. It was an easy error to make.”

The smile she gifted him was stunning. It was not the measured, practised smile he was accustomed to receiving, but a real one—one that conveyed genuine happiness.