Page 59 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“Not yet,” Mr Darcy refuted. “We have one surprise left.” He turned to Elizabeth. “If you would excuse me for just a moment?”
Elizabeth nodded. Mr Darcy leapt elegantly from the sleigh, tucked the pelt he had just vacated firmly about her, and disappeared behind the tent. He returned with three stable hands who each brought a horse. He joined her in the sleigh whilst the horses were put to their equipages. A few minutes later, they pulled abruptly from the tent to circle the canal. Elizabeth was startled by the jolt and grabbed Mr Darcy’s hand.
“I beg your pardon,” she muttered and released it the moment she discovered what she had done. Henceforth her every attention was directed across the canal at the bird-cage walk, which was not open to the public.
“No pardon is necessary,” he allowed.
In truth, the bird-cage walk was not much to look at during the winter, and she turned towards the ice skaters and met Mr Darcy’s bottomless eyes. He was staring at her, as had been his wont in Hertfordshire, and she felt the fingers of a ghost run down her spine.
“It is my turn to beg your pardon. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable, but your bewitching eyes, glittering in the bright sunlight, robbed me of my faculties,” Mr Darcy admitted, coloured, and turned away.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She was flattered. If only the rest of her face had not been such a disappointment…
They circled the rest of the two-thousand-eight-hundred-foot-long canal in silence before returning to the colonel’s barracks. In truth, she had been thoroughly entertained by the ice skaters’ antics and the view of Mr Darcy’s noble profile. With the romantic backdrop of the frost-covered park, Mr Darcy’s solicitousness, and his improved civilities, her defences had thawed.
When the sleigh drew to a halt, she was not allowed so much as to remove the blankets herself, but Mr Darcy’s gentle administrations took her safely to the ground.
On their return to Limerick House, the viscount and Mr Bingley were quick to take their positions to either side of Jane, effectively blocking anyone who wanted to intrude. Fortunately, the colonel had the sense not to try to squeeze a fourth horse alongside them in the narrow street. Instead, he kept Elizabeth company whilst Mr Darcy brought up the rear of their parade through town.
Elizabeth’s mare was most willing to return to the mews and gave her hardly any trouble but hastened into a trot when they drew near. Elizabeth handled the increased pace tolerably well but for a ribbon she had tied round the curl draped over her shoulder. It was whipped loose and flew elegantly towards the sky. Elizabeth turned and watched Mr Darcy snap it up in mid-air and tuck it into his breast pocket. She quickly forgot the fanciful notion that he might keep it as a token because as she turned her head back to the road in front of her, she almost ran over an errand boy who was crossing the street.
“I beg your pardon,” she called after him, which was all she could do. Her stubborn mare would not stop regardless of how forcefully she pulled on the reins.
Mr Darcy flipped the boy a coin for his trouble. A generous half-crown, judging by the lad’s heartfelt expression of gratitude.
When Elizabeth and Jane entered Limerick House, it was with light hearts after a successful excursion. To be met by an uncommonly stern father in the entrance hall took them by surprise. The gentlemen had been wise to bid their farewells by the mews and were spared encountering the incensed Lord Glentworth, for which both ladies were grateful.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Elizabeth was stunned by the vehemence in her father’s voice, and Jane visibly shrank into herself. Elizabeth could not remember his ire ever to have been raised against Jane, though she herself had not been so fortunate. Which was why she was able to find her voice first.
“I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, sir. We have been on a short ride to St James’s and had a light picnic in the park.”
“With the Matlock heir!” he spat.
“Yes, the viscount has been calling, and I danced with him as early as Lady Cowper’s ball in December,” Elizabeth admitted. “I suppose you must ask your mother because she was the one who introduced me. I know you do not care for the Matlocks, but their sons are amiable gentlemen.”
“Mrs Maeve Bennet!” he bellowed.
Their grandmother came down the stairs at a pace that belied her advanced years. She regarded them one at a time and promptly suggested they should adjourn to the library.
As soon as the door closed behind his mother, Lord Glentworth turned his glare at her.
“You introduced my daughters to the spawn of Matlock,” he accused her.
“I did,” the matron admitted with a calm that infuriated her son.
“Please explain why you would have them consorting with those…those miscreants?”
“Firstly, because the boys were highly recommended by a trusted friend, and secondly, because I do not believe that children should suffer for the sins of a father. Can you not see the irony, dear Thomas? That Matlock’s sons are vying for your daughter’s attention?”
“My children are not pieces in a chess game. This is why I have been so reluctant to come to town. The games of the alleged superior society are exactly what I cannot abide.”
“It is not a game, Papa.”
Elizabeth was shocked that Jane had dared to raise her voice—as was her father it would seem. He was staring at his eldest daughter as though she had suddenly grown horns from her head.
“Although they are both amiable and gentlemanlike, Colonel Fitzwilliam is excellent company,” Jane said.
