At long last, before me stood Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. William Lacey was a good-looking man, with black hair and grey eyes, and I think if he had been smiling, I would have agreed with Elizabeth that he was the handsomest of men. Hand on hip, Will was dressed in cream-colored breeches, a green coat with a dark waistcoat, and an elaborate neckcloth, just as I had imagined.
And finally, “dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth.” The portrait had been painted at the time of her marriage, so she would have been about twenty-two. She had hair as black as her husband’s and dark brown eyes with long lashes. Her face was rounder than I had pictured it, but it seemed to add to the look of amusement the artist had captured. Her russet silk dress had a high waist, with the bodice trimmed in gold braid, and little gold tassels hanging from the short sleeves. In her lap was an embroidered lace handkerchief, bearing her initials, EGL. She wore a two-strand pearl necklace and pearl earrings, and on her right hand was a ruby ring.
Miniatures of their four children were on a nearby chest of drawers. All of the children were attractive, but Phoebe was absolutely stunning and looked more like her Aunt Celia than her mother. Jack had said that Phoebe “was a whole other story,” and I could see why.
Looking at Elizabeth and Will’s portraits, Beth said, “I’m sure we were no more or less interested in our relations than any family who has a famous person amongst their ancestors, but their association with the novel certainly added interest.”
After leaving the room for a few minutes, Beth returned with a large book containing sketches of the terrace and gardens at Montclair. “As Mr. Ferguson explained on your tour, the grounds of Montclair were landscaped by Humphry Repton. As part of his presentation, Mr. Repton prepared what was called his ‘Red Book’ because of the color of its binding. By using overlays, he was able to show the owner the existing view and what it would look like after the work was finished.” Looking at me, she said, “I would like you to have it.” I had no doubt that the Red Book was very valuable. Surely it should stay with Beth and Jack and be given to their children.
“Maggie, I see what you are thinking, but please do accept it. I have other drawings from Repton and will gladly share them with my children if they should ever show an interest in such things. As for Montclair, I have the best of it in my memory and in my heart.” At which point, Jack suggested we adjourn to the Hare and Hound for a pint.
When I came down for breakfast the next morning, the house was empty. Jack and Rob had left at dawn to go hiking in the Peak District, and Beth was on her knees working in the garden. Seeing me, Beth said, “Rudyard Kipling said that ‘half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his knees.’ I have to say I agree with him.” Wiping the dirt off of her pants, she said, “When the last war came, we quickly learnt how much of our food came from the continent. All of our onions were imported from Brittany, which had been overrun by the Germans. English food is bland enough, but without onions, it’s positively tasteless, so you will always find onions in my garden.”
Taking off her gloves and satisfied that there was no dirt on her pants, Beth said, “Let’s go have some coffee. We’ll have to give that instant coffee you brought a go because we are out of the real thing.” While I put the kettle on, Beth washed her hands and then sat down at the kitchen table, grinning like the cat who had swallowed the canary.
“The Catons are giving a party to celebrate the reincarnation of Montclair, and Ellen has asked me to co-host. I have been itching to have a party ever since James got married. Having two sons, I knew I was never going to be the mother of the bride, but with James getting married in Italy, I wasn’t really the mother of the groom, either. We were completely bowled over by the Paglia family. I was thinking you and Rob could be our special guests. You have become such an important part of our lives; I want everyone to meet you.”
After all the Crowells had done for us, it seemed little enough on our part to agree to a party, and I told Beth that was fine. Beth reached over to the kitchen counter where she had a pad of yellow, lined paper that was already full with items for the party. It was then that she told me it would be a catered affair with live music, and formal attire would be optional.
“Formal attire? Whoa! I don’t have anything formal.” This was already out of my league, and she hadn’t even gotten to the yellow pad yet.
“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” she said reassuringly. “I have at least a half-dozen formal dresses in my closet, and my mother’s dressmaker, Mrs. Quayle, lives in Crofton. Although she’s up there in years, she can still work a treadle. As for Rob, with some minor alterations, he can wear one of Jack’s tuxedos.”
Looking at my expression, Beth said, “Maggie, it’s a celebration. This is a wonderful time in my life. I have my husband back, my sons are safe, I have a lovely daughter-in-law and a beautiful granddaughter, I’ve found a wonderful friend in you, Britain’s on the mend. I could go on and on.”
Taking the cup out of my hand and giving instant coffee a try, Beth said, “Oh, my. It tastes like the ersatz coffee we had during the war. But it will have to do.” After taking another sip, she said, “Maybe not. This is worse than my coffee.” Both of us started to laugh.
There was another reason that Beth was so pumped up.
“Michael is coming home from Malta. I gave him the date for the party, and he was able to get one week’s leave.”
Michael and Rob together in the same room at the same time? Terrific! Beth was looking at me waiting for an answer. But what could I say except, “When do we go to see Mrs. Quayle?”
Chapter 27
After an initial crunch at AAFES, where I had been working a lot of overtime, headquarters approved hiring two girls, which eased my workload considerably. Although I would miss the extra money, I was glad to have the shorter workweek. I used my time to go for a long weekend up to Crofton, so I could get ready for the gala.
When I walked into the den, sitting in Beth’s chair was Michael. Because he had to catch whatever flight was available from Malta, there was no way to know when he would show up in Crofton until his parents got the call from the Stepton station to pick him up.
“I’m going to make some coffee. Michael brought the real thing from Malta,” Beth said with a lilt in her voice. Tomorrow night she would have all her family together, and she was riding high.
He immediately jumped up and shook my hand. “It’s good to see you again, Maggie. Are you ready for the big show?”
“Yes, but only because of your mother. I’ve never been to anything like this.”
“Well, when you get right down to it, it’s just a dance, except everyone wears nicer clothes.” And then he continued, “I’m looking forward to meeting Rob. From what I hear, he sounds like he’s a good Joe. Isn’t that what Americans say? And he’s an American, so that simplifies things. No arguments about where to live.”
Jack tried to catch Michael’s eye, but not before he had asked if an announcement was to be made at the ball. He had assumed we were getting engaged because we were his parents’ special guests.
“No announcement. But Rob will be here tomorrow, so you’ll have a chance to meet him.”
While waiting for the coffee to perk, Beth said she had planned to serve sandwiches for dinner because she was unsure of what time James would be arriving. “James thought they would be in about 4:00.”
“Which means 6:00,” Jack added. Angela’s tardiness had become a sore point with her father-in-law. Beth had asked Jack to exercise some patience since Angela came from a country where the rhythm was a lot slower, but he wasn’t buying it. As far as he was concerned, Angela was living in England, and she had better pick up the pace.