“Sir William has just departed for Meryton,” he announced. “I believe all of Hertfordshire will know the full tale before dinner. Though I rather suspect he will embellish his part in it all.”
Elizabeth laughed. Sir William was quite ridiculous but also truly kind. If he wished to spin himself a role in her story, she did not mind.
The clatter of a carriage drawing to a halt before the house prevented any further melancholy contemplation. Elizabeth heard the servants’ voices rise in pitch, the sort of flustered excitement that accompanied the truly unexpected.
“Good heavens,” Aunt Gardiner murmured, moving towards the window. “That is a royal crest.”
Elizabeth joined her there. She had seen the Thurnian coat of arms on the letters in Papa’s study, though never displayed quite so magnificently.
The butler appeared in the doorway, looking rather overwhelmed. “Begging your pardon, madam, but His Royal Highness Prince Adrian of Thurnia wishes to call on Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth was equal parts excited and anxious.
“Show him in, please,” Aunt Gardiner said.
Prince Adrian entered as though he was a regular visitor to homes in Gracechurch Street. He was of an age with Mr. Darcy and his cousin, tall and handsome with golden hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once.
“Cousin!” he exclaimed, his face breaking into a delighted smile. “You are here and you are safe and I am exceedingly pleased to meet you.”
He crossed the room with easy confidence, bowed to Aunt Gardiner, greeted Papa warmly, and turned his considerable charm upon Elizabeth.
“My goodness, you do resemble my grandmother.” He smiled. “Darcy and Fitzwilliam sent word, and I determined to visit you immediately—well, not precisely immediately, there was the matter with the prisoners, but directly after. I brought flowers. Did they make it inside? Ah, there they are.”
A servant appeared bearing an arrangement so large it required both hands. Elizabeth bit back a smile.
“Your Highness is very kind,” she managed.
“No, none of that, if you please. We are family. Please call me Adrian.” He sat in the chair Aunt Gardiner indicated, apparently unconcerned by the informality. “A female cousin! Do you know how many princes there are at court? An even dozen. Not a single princess until now. Well,my brothers have their wives, I suppose, but they are only princesses by marriage. And there is our grandmother, Queen Sophia, but she is in her sixties and terrifying.” He paused. “And not a princess.”
Elizabeth could only smile. “I shall endeavour to be less terrifying than Queen Sophia.”
“An admirable goal. Do you know, when the king sent me to London, he told me I had a cousin in England,” Adrian continued cheerfully. “But my father’s advisors said you would likely be either dreary or scheming, so I confess I did not have high hopes—” He stopped, apparently hearing his own words. “Advisors are dreadful pessimists, and I ought not to have listened.”
The list of attributes she did not have was growing. “I shall also endeavour to be neither dreary nor scheming, Your High—Adrian.”
“Excellent. I find I should like having a cousin who is neither.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “The Thurnian court is insufferably dull. Everyone is always plotting something or lecturing someone about duty or making trade agreements that I must then go negotiate. It will be much improved by your presence.”
Elizabeth laughed, then regretted it as her throat protested. Adrian noticed at once, his expression shifting to concern.
“I am being thoughtless. You are still recovering, and I am rattling on as though we were at a garden party.” He sat back. “Forgive me. I shall endeavour to be less loquacious.”
“Please do not. I find your loquacity rather refreshing.”
They smiled at one another, and Elizabeth thought that having Adrian for a cousin might prove rather pleasant.
The sound of new arrivals in the hall drew everyone’s attention. Elizabeth’s heart performed an odd little leap before she had quite registered why, and then the butler announced Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Elizabeth sat up straighter and smoothed her shawl, wondering if her appearance was passable. Then she caught her reflection in the glass and forced her hands to still.
But when Mr. Darcy entered the room, perfectly dressed as always despite the shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of insufficient sleep, Elizabeth forgot to be embarrassed. Their eyes met, held for a beat longer than propriety allowed, and something warm unfurled in her chest.
He looked at her as though she were the only person in the room.
Then he seemed to recall himself and bowed properly to the room at large, greeting her aunt and uncle, nodding to Papa, acknowledging Adrian with easy familiarity. But his gaze kept returning to her face, searching for something Elizabeth could not quite name.
“Please sit down,” Aunt Gardiner said. “I will ring for tea.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam entered behind his cousin, greeting Adrian with the warmth of old friendship. “Your Highness. I heard you were at Addison’s ball last night. Still attempting to civilise London society?”