An (Un)believably Artful Theft (Love’s Little Helpers #4)

Chapter 40

CHAPTER 40

E lizabeth held the sealed envelope in front of her. The paper was thick and heavy, the embellishments intricate, the wax seal grand. Everything about the letter was designed to impress, and Elizabeth sensed that her life would change once she opened it. She was equal parts excitement and fear.

“It looks like it could be from Queen Charlotte!” exclaimed Kitty.

Lydia squinted to read. “The Right Honorable The Countess of Matlock. Maybe it is an invitation to a society ball!”

“Matlock… Matlock… Where have I heard that name?” mumbled Mama.

Papa’s eyebrows furrowed. “I believe Mrs. Gardiner would know the name well.”

“The family name is Fitzwilliam,” said Mary, confirming Papa’s suspicion and creating a strong reaction around the table .

Lady Matlock was Colonel Fitzwilliam’s mother! Mr. Darcy’s aunt.

“Come on, Lizzy, open it!” insisted Mama.

The whole family stared at Elizabeth around the breakfast table, their plates forgotten. Papa’s newspaper and correspondence lay untouched at his side.

“It must be important if it was sent by messenger,” suggested Jane.

What if it was bad news?

“If I were to receive a letter by messenger, I would open it immediately,” said Lydia impatiently.

Elizabeth cracked open the seal. The message was brief and written in an elegant hand. “Lady Matlock requests an interview. She will arrange for a carriage to convey me to London so that I may paint her portrait if I choose.”

Not bad news, but Elizabeth did not quite know what to make of it.

“What does this mean?” asked Mama.

Papa dabbed at his eyes. “It means, my dear, that Lizzy has gained the attention of the peerage. She is not ruined, nor are her sisters in danger.”

“London!” Kitty swooned, her hands clasped at her chin.

Mama’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Bingley is in London.”

“As are the Darcys. Miss Darcy was kind enough to inform me that they intend to stay on a while longer before returning to Pemberley for the winter months,” added Mary.

Elizabeth did not know what to think. To accept Lady Matlock’s invitation would improve her sisters’ prospects. She yearned to see Mr. Darcy again, but she must be realistic. While his family might turn a blind eye to her industry, they would consider her too far below their notice to be worthy of him. Perhaps this was Lady Matlock’s way of ensuring that Elizabeth was kept in her proper place―far away from her ladyship’s nephew.

“What do you want to do, Lizzy?” her father asked, his voice gravelly.

“I would like to see what she has to say, but it means there is a very good chance I might see Mr. Darcy.”

He raised his hand. “I have been known for making mistakes, and I was greatly mistaken about Mr. Darcy. He could have broken me, and instead he has turned society’s opinion to favor us. I do not doubt that this opportunity is his doing. But Lizzy, is this what you want?”

She nodded, her throat too choked with fear and hope and expectation to speak.

Papa rose from his place at the head of the table, collecting his paper and correspondence. “Tell her ladyship that she may send her carriage to collect you at Gracechurch Street.” He turned to Mama. “I pray our sudden arrival will not be too great of an imposition on your brother.”

She leaped from her end of the table, waving her hands in the air as she skipped to him. “Mr. Bennet! All of us? To London?”

“It is about time we accepted Gardiner’s invitation to stay with him. The girls will entertain the children, and I daresay you will enjoy shopping with Mrs. Gardiner. I shall send a message immediately, and we can travel on the morrow.”

She kissed his cheek. “We are to London!”

Elizabeth did her best to join in their celebrations, but she was too full of trepidation to yield fully to happiness.

Darcy paced in the entrance hall at Matlock House, ignoring Richard when he fell into step beside him.

Aunt Matlock sighed. “I have never seen you so anxious. I suppose you will beat the doorman to his duty and open the door for her when she arrives.”

Darcy spun about and walked to his aunt. Leaning over, he kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Aunt.”

“For what? Suggesting you act like a servant?”

“For using your influence to help a worthy young lady.”

Richard grumbled at his side. “He has yet to thank me!”

“Thank you, Rich.”

His cousin continued grumbling to himself, reveling in discontent.

Darcy asked, “Do you expect me to kiss you on the cheek, too?”

Richard thought about it. “No. However some acknowledgement would be agreeable. It was, after all, my doing that you met her in the first place.”

He was correct, and Darcy was grateful.

Richard continued to sulk. “I could say ‘I told you so,’ but I am not petty like that.”

Not petty at all. Darcy silenced his cousin with a hearty embrace. “I am indebted to you for your interference.” With a slap on the back, Darcy stepped back, his greatest concern rising to the surface. “What if she will not have me?”

Aunt instantly took offense. “Who would dare to refuse you?”

Richard rubbed his whiskers. “You have not met this lady, Mother. She has a strong mind and a fierce will.” Darcy wiped his damp palms against his breeches.

Aunt nodded approval. “I like her already. She has quite stolen your heart!”

“And she is welcome to it. I only wish to convince her to keep it!”

“If you need to use me as a reference, I would be happy to put in a good word or two for you,” teased Richard.

“You have done enough already.”

“And I shall remember that you consider yourself indebted to me.”

Darcy grinned all the way to the entrance door. “Well, you should. I fully intend on repaying you in the same manner which incurred said debt.” He left his aunt laughing and Richard pondering all the ways Darcy could interfere with his plans.

It was cold and damp, and no doubt his sister was spying on him from a window upstairs, but Darcy could not wait a second longer to see Elizabeth. She might be worrying that his aunt had an unkind motive for the invitation she had extended, and Darcy would not allow her suffering to extend longer than necessary.

Just as the chill seeped beneath his coat and he wished he had thought to don his greatcoat, Uncle’s carriage rounded the corner and clambered to a stop in front of the house. He dismissed the footman so he could open the carriage door and lower the step himself.

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth said his name with a smile, her eyes sparkling with merriment. She sat forward, clutching a book to her chest.

He bowed, his lips curling upward. “Miss Elizabeth.”

He handed her down, and his touch seemed to affect her just as her touch affected him. The book she grasped with her other hand toppled to the ground, falling open, the pages flipping in the breeze.

It was a sketchbook. In the time it took him to pick up the tome, he counted five different sketches―one of his profile, two of him smiling, one with a warm glimmer in his eye that made him recall the first moment he had wanted to kiss her, and another one where he had a serious expression that might have been after his failed conversation with Mr. Bennet. Each sketch told a story.

He closed the book and handed it to her. She looked down, her cheeks as pink as they had been the first time they had met. She was wearing the same blue sash she had worn at Bingley’s ball. The color suited her.

He was so happy to see her that he had to remind himself to talk. He knew he smiled like a fool, like a cat with a face full of cream. “May I ask a favor of you?”

“Of course.”

Slowly, he pulled the sketch she had drawn of him at Netherfield out of his breast pocket. “Would you do me the honor of signing this?”

She gasped. “I wondered where that had gone!” From a small case, she produced a length of graphite and signed Elizabeth Bennet on the bottom right corner.

Darcy took the drawing. Although only their fingers touched, he felt Elizabeth everywhere. He leaned a little closer, breathing her in. She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing like sunlight on amber. He stepped closer, toe-to-toe, and still it was not close enough. Their breath puffed and mingled between them. A strand of hair blew across her face, and he gently reached up to remove it. This moment was perfect, and he knew exactly what to do with it.

He leaned forward. She tilted her chin.

“Pardon the interruption, but it is dreadfully cold out,” interrupted Aunt Helen.

Darcy might as well have been in the tropics for all he knew. He was inclined to ask to borrow his aunt’s fan. For Elizabeth’s sake, he stepped away.

Aunt smiled sweetly at the top of the steps. “You will both be more comfortable inside, where a fire and hot tea are waiting.”

He presented Elizabeth to his delighted aunt, who led them into her finest parlor where a generous tea service was spread over the table.

Richard stood when they entered, wincing apologetically at Darcy as his eyes darted to his mother. At least Darcy understood from whom his cousin had inherited his tendency to interfere. He greeted Elizabeth warmly, his presence―and Molly’s―putting Elizabeth immediately at ease.

Aunt asked all the usual questions and a few unexpected ones. After an agonizing quarter of an hour, she placed her teacup and saucer on the table and pronounced her approval. What precisely she approved of was unclear. Darcy just wanted her and Richard out of the room so he could pick up where he had left off.

Finally, Richard stood and extended his hand to his mother. “Very well, now that you are satisfied, allow me to extract you from the room so that they might enjoy a moment of privacy. They will have a great deal to… em… discuss.”

“I am pleased to see you are more romantic than you let on. If only I could convince you to stop wearing that dreadful scimitar–”

He patted the hilt of his sword affectionately. “ Connie is the love of my life. Always constant, always at my side.”

Their conversation trailed off as they exited the room, leaving Darcy alone with Elizabeth. At last.

The clock in the corner ticked away the seconds, each passing click measuring his silence and increasing his panic. He could not just blurt out, “I love you. Will you marry me?” He had put a great deal of thought into his proposal—present his sketch, ask for her signature, then ask for her hand in marriage—but he had not counted on his aunt’s interruption. He had anticipated this moment every day for a month, and now that it was here, he did not know what to say. It was too important to botch.

“Where is Remy?” he asked, internally rolling his eyes at himself. He was supposed to be an intelligent man, for goodness’ sake.

“He stayed with the rest of my family at Gracechurch Street. My uncle Gardiner lives there.”

Darcy nodded. Mr. Gardiner had been instrumental in helping him secure Elizabeth’s paintings so quickly. He wanted to say that her uncle was a good man, but doing so might lead the conversation to what Darcy had done, and he did not want to draw attention to himself that way.

“Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes?”

She bit her lip, nervous. “Why did you do it?”

One look at her hope-filled eyes and he knew exactly what she meant and how to reply. She gave so much of herself to others. She had filled his heart with a vibrancy and joy he would try to give to her.

Sitting beside her, he drew her hands into his. “I did it for you. I have never met someone so fiercely loyal and kind. Even now, you took the burden of conversation off my shoulders when I did not know what to say. You make everyone’s life better, you see to their every need, and I wish… it is my hope… that you will allow me to care for you.”

In a flash, she was in his arms. When her lips touched his, there was nothing uncertain or indifferent in her reply.