Page 88 of The Slipper Scandal
"Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said at last, his voice unaccountably gentle, "would you care to join me by the window? The garden looks particularly fine this morning."
It was February. There was nothing blooming in the garden. But Elizabeth rose and moved to stand beside him at the window.
"I must apologise for my mother," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"There is no need," Mr. Darcy replied, his voice warm with understanding. "Families are seldom what we might wish them to be, as my own relatives demonstrated rather amply last evening."
A pained laugh escaped her. "Your family at least meant well, however misguided their methods."
"As does yours, I suspect." He turned to face her, and to her amazement, there was no disgust in his expression, only a tenderness that made her breath catch. "Your mother loves you and wishes for your happiness, even if her understanding of what will bring you happiness differs from your own."
"You are very generous," Elizabeth murmured, still unable to meet his gaze.
"Not at all. I merely recognize that we cannot choose our relations, only how we respond to them." His hand moved slightly, as though he might reach for hers, but he restrained himself. "Miss Bennet. Elizabeth. I wished to tell you last evening . . ."
"Yes?" she prompted when he hesitated, finally raising her eyes to his.
His expression softened, and something in it made her heart beat faster. "The music I played—"
The door burst open again, and her mother reappeared, having somehow escaped Mrs. Abernathy's attempt to settle her. "I have had the most wonderful idea for the wedding breakfast! Roast pheasant and trout, with a special cake shaped like your Pemberley! What do you think, Mr. Darcy? Lizzy? Is that not inspired?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes in despair, but to her surprise, she felt Mr. Darcy's hand brush against hers.
"Mrs. Bennet," he said with remarkable patience, "When the time comes, Elizabeth may have anything she wishes other than trout." He turned to Elizabeth and said firmly, “No trout.”
She closed her eyes and let out a pained little laugh.
"Oh! How gracious! Lizzy, did you hear? Mr. Darcy agrees with my idea for the cake! I knew he would appreciate it." Her mother clasped her hands in delight. "And the wedding gown! I was thinking ivory silk with Brussels lace. Nothing less will do for the future Mrs. Darcy."
This was beyond enough. “Mamma, I believe Mr. Darcy said that it would be anything thatIwished. And what I wish just now is to be alone with him. You may leave the door open when you go.”
"Well!” Her mother opened her mouth to respond to Elizabeth’s instructions, but Mr. Darcy interrupted whatever horrible thing Mamma was about to say.
"Mrs. Bennet," he said, his voice steady and authoritative, "while I appreciate your enthusiasm, these are matters that should be decided between your daughter and myself, at a moreappropriatetime."
Her mother looked momentarily taken aback but recovered quickly. "Goodness, I would not dream of interfering. I merely offer a mother's guidance. And speaking of guidance, Mr. Darcy, you must tell me about your housekeeper at Pemberley. I hope she is amenable to direction. A new mistress must establish her authority, after all."
Mr. Darcy's expression remained impressively neutral. "I have every confidence that your daughter has all that is required to manage my households admirably, Mrs. Bennet."
Elizabeth felt a surge of gratitude when Mrs. Abernathy returned, looking somewhat harried. "Mrs. Bennet, your room is ready now. Come with me."
"Oh, very well, if you insist." Finally, Mamma allowed herself to be led away, though she continued to speak volubly as she went. "I have so many ideas about the wedding trip! Italy is very fine."
As the door closed behind her mother, Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy with an expression of such genuine distress that he moved a step closer.
“Do you think we could send mymotherto Italy?” she inquired plaintively.
He chuckled. “You did warn me, but I do not think anything could have quite prepared me for that scene.”
“I am so very sorry, Mr. Darcy. She means well, I know she does, but she expresses every feeling that she has at the very moment that she has it. She never stops to consider whether what she has to say ought to be given voice.”
He shook his head. “Then your mother and I have something in common.”
Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy. “Hardly, sir. When you speak out of turn, it is at a volume unlikely to be overheard. And you do not press on heedlessly when everyone about you is begging you to stop.”
“But we have established that I speak nonsense at times?” Mr. Darcy asked with an impish smile that she had never seen him wear before.
“Nonsense may be too strong a word . . .” she said playfully, her cheerfulness returning to her in some small way.
