Page 172 of Near Pemberley

“You will be Mrs. Darcy. Your mother would want to build a new wardrobe or at least start it.”

Elizabeth tilted her head.

“My dear, you are about to become Mrs. Darcy.”

The words, spoken so simply, seemed to affect her.

Mrs. Gardiner continued. “The mistress of Pemberley cannot start her life with only the wardrobe of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. There will be calls to receive, neighbours to visit, dinners, journeys… You shall require an entirely different wardrobe.”

Elizabeth looked almost alarmed. “I had not thought so far.”

“I suspected as much.”

Darcy, who had listened in silence, finally spoke. “If Miss Elizabeth permits it, I believe the difficulty may be easily remedied.”

Every eye turned towards him.

“My aunt has always employed Madame Lefèvre in Bond Street. She has dressed Georgiana for several years and has a reputation for accomplishing the impossible.”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled knowingly. “I believe that is precisely what we require.”

“I shall ask her to attend tomorrow.”

Elizabeth looked at him. “Just like that?”

A faint colour appeared in Darcy’s cheeks.

“I fear I am acting from entirely selfish motives.”

Mr. Gardiner laughed. “I begin to suspect, Darcy, that your greatest talent is solving our problems.”

Darcy glanced towards Elizabeth. “I merely wish to spare my future wife unnecessary concerns.”

Elizabeth smiled, though she secretly suspected he enjoyed solving problems almost as much as he enjoyed removing them.

The following afternoon, Elizabeth arrived at Darcy House expecting nothing more extraordinary than another quiet conversation.

Mrs. Barnes welcomed her with a smile that betrayed just enough satisfaction to make Elizabeth immediately suspicious.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bennet.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Barnes.”

“If you would be so kind as to follow me, miss.”

Elizabeth did so willingly enough until she realised Mrs. Barnes was leading her, not towards the morning room where Darcy usually received her, but to one of the larger drawing rooms overlooking the square.

She paused.

“I believe you have mistaken the room.”

Mrs. Barnes’s smile widened almost imperceptibly. “No, miss.” She opened the door.

Elizabeth stopped upon the threshold.

The room had been transformed.

Lengths of silk, satin, fine muslin and velvet lay draped over tables and chairs. Open pattern books displayed sleeves, bodices and pelisses. Boxes of ribbons, lace and delicate trimmings occupied every available surface.