Page 4 of Conundrums & Coincidences

The attorney huffed in annoyance, then, gaining his feet, spoke in a brusque manner. “If there are no further questions, sir, I really must fetch that next appointment. I shall look forward to hearing from you on Monday, if not sooner.”

Darcy stood and thanked Mr Monroe for his time. In the outer office, clasping the bulky bundle against his side, Darcy collected his hat, gloves, and walking stick from Stevens.

A nervous young man with a shock of fine coppery hair and a bouncy leg was seated against the wall. Darcy gave him a nod, and the fellow smiled widely at him. Good grief! He could be Bingley’s twin.

As he walked out of the building, Darcy contemplated whether or not to participate in the competition. He was not one for tomfoolery, but he did enjoy chess. Perhaps that was what Mr Monroe meant by a game of skill.

As for the legacy, if he married and became a father, Oakwood Manor might be a nice inheritance for one of his children. Marry? Ha. I am too particular to settle for a marriage that is less than I desire or deserve. However, fifty thousand pounds would more than recoup Georgiana’s dowry if ever she weds.

Descending the eleven steps to the kerb, Darcy thought the tournament might, if nothing else, keep his mind off Miss Elizabeth Bennet for a se’nnight. By Jove, I shall do it.

Turning on his heel, he marched up the steps and back into the outer office of Pemberton & Monroe. The copper-haired fellow was gone in with the attorney, but Stevens remained and asked whether he could be of assistance.

“Yes. Please be so kind as to inform Mr Monroe that I shall be at Oakwood Manor on the eleventh of June.” Of course it would have to be the eleventh.

In the carriage, Darcy shed his hat and gloves, untied the twine from round the strangely shaped parcel, and carefully peeled back the brown paper. “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered.

3

MISS BENNET!

So that they might arrive at Oakwood in a timely manner on Thursday the eleventh of June, Elizabeth and Mr Bennet had taken rooms the previous night at the Knight’s Rest in nearby Slough. The mattresses in their rooms had been terribly lumpy and stale-smelling, and they had slept poorly.

In the morning, Elizabeth watched with commiseration as her tired, slouched father was jostled about on the rear-facing seat. Their carriage was ample in size but not particularly well-sprung, and the roads it traversed were in an atrocious condition.

At Hunsford, Mr Darcy had arrogantly asserted fifty miles was an easy distance by carriage. Humph. Perhaps where fortune makes travel comfortable and the expense of it unimportant, distance may be no difficulty. But such is not the case here and now.

As loath as Elizabeth was to admit it, she conceded that Mr Darcy’s confident manner was part and parcel of his attractiveness, and she certainly had no objection to the fact that he was in possession of a good fortune. How entirely agreeable it would be to travel in comfort. She, too, had grown weary of being jounced about on the hard seat.

When the horses were slowed from a jog to a walk and the carriage was turned onto a tree-lined lane with a sign indicating Oakwood Manor, she felt nothing but relief. Nose almost pressed to the side-glass, she caught her first glimpse of the old house, which spread outwards and upwards in various directions and styles. Its stonework, exposed wood frame, large chimneys, and steeply pitched gable roofs topped by finials suggested parts of the manor had been there for two or three hundred years. Already elevated since leaving Longbourn, the flutter of Elizabeth’s spirits heightened. And of this place I might become mistress. She patted her drowsing father’s arm as they drew to a halt on the gravel sweep. “Papa, we have arrived.”

Sitting up, Mr Bennet grinned at her. “Well, Lizzy, if adventure will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek it in Buckinghamshire, eh?” When the carriage door was opened, he climbed out first to assist his daughter.

As she stepped down, Elizabeth huffed at the rumpled state of the delicate netted reticule she had been tightly clutching since leaving the inn. Gazing then at the manor’s facade, she whispered to her father that she was equal parts eager delight and anxiety. “I shall not know a single soul here.”

Mr Bennet linked his arm with hers, and they climbed the steps to the front door. “My poor Lizzy. What a sad state of affairs that strangers never can be introduced at a house party.”

Elizabeth remembered having spoken similarly sarcastic words to Mr Darcy at Rosings. Why, at every turn, must I be reminded of my interactions with that man? The gentleman was in her thoughts more often than not, and she felt saddened by the notion their paths might never again cross. If nothing else, she owed him an apology.

At the arched entryway—graced by pots of deliciously fragrant pink and cream-coloured sweet peas—they were met by a familiar countenance and received with professions of pleasure. Middle-aged, Mr Monroe had a kind face and shortish dark hair greying at the temples. Although not considered a gentleman, the attorney’s manner was courteous and gallant.

Elizabeth assumed he would show no particular favouritism in regard to the competition, but she feared he, in consideration of her gender and age, might become protective of her during the se’nnight. I require neither coddling nor cosseting, thank you.

Beckoning them inside, Mr Monroe welcomed the Bennets to Oakwood Manor and presented them to Mrs Vincent and Mr Atwater, the housekeeper and butler. Those introductions were followed by inconsequential conversation until a pendulum clock chimed ten times, and Mrs Vincent hinted the guests might care to see Miss Bennet’s room.

Escorting them upstairs, the housekeeper showed Mr Bennet where he might refresh himself. “And,” she said, “Mr Monroe will be waiting for you downstairs, sir, whenever you and your daughter are ready. Now, Miss Bennet, please follow me to your bedchamber.”

Inside the room a maid curtseyed, then resumed unpacking Elizabeth’s small trunk.

“Rachel,” scolded Mrs Vincent, “why are the curtains still drawn?” The housekeeper went about opening them and letting in sunlight while speaking to Elizabeth. “Rachel will be at your beck and call during your stay, and another girl, Henrietta, will be Miss Kensett’s maid.”

Pleased to know she would not be the sole female in the competition, Elizabeth nevertheless took particular note of the solitary bed, the largest piece of furniture in the room. Although she and Jane shared a bedchamber at Longbourn, she dreaded doing so with a stranger. “Am I, then, to be accommodated with another lady?”

“Oh no, Miss Bennet,” said the housekeeper. “According to Mr Monroe, Miss Kensett insisted on having her privacy.”

Left alone then, Elizabeth took off her gloves, bonnet, spencer, and half-boots and changed into slippers. She wandered about the richly decorated bedchamber, touching furnishings and fabrics. It was not to her taste but spacious and spotless. Three tall, narrow casement windows with diamond-shaped panes looked down upon verdant lawns, lush gardens, and a wooded hill beyond.

When she flung herself upon it, the feather mattress passed her test for freshness and comfort, and she anticipated a better night’s rest than was had at the inn. At a sound from the door, followed by her father’s voice, Elizabeth sprang to her feet, smoothing her hair and gown.