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Chapter 5. Lady Catherine Resents.
Posted on 2010-06-10
Lord John Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock, wedded Lady Alice Pettigrew in 1752. Although the marriage had been arranged by their fathers for reasons of finance and connection, the pair proved quite compatible and were known throughout their circle as a happy couple. They divided their time between London and Matlock, the primary Fitzwilliam estate in southern Derbyshire, although they spent more time in the country as time passed and their three children were born.
As the eldest Fitzwilliam child, Catherine thoroughly resented the fuss that was made over her younger brother--the heir of the Earldom--and spent a great deal of time and thought attempting to make her parents (and everyone else) acknowledge her own superiority. Perhaps because of his elder sister's constant desire to outdo him, young Henry learned early to get his way through calm, intelligent reasoning rather than tantrums or condescension. His skills at debate and mediation would later aid him in the House of Lords.
Baby Anne was younger than Henry by six years and vastly different from her elder sister in looks and personality. Blond and pretty where Catherine was dark and angular, musical and artistic where her sister was direct and practical, Anne was a quiet child with a warmth and desire to make everyone around her happy. Lord John and Lady Alice spent little time with their children, leaving them in the care of nurses and governesses as was customary. However, when the family did gather, the parents would laugh to themselves that three more different children could not exist in a single family.
According to the Fitzwilliam family tradition, their son spent time working on different parts of the estate to gain a better sense of what the tenants and staff did. Catherine, being only a year older than Henry and exceedingly strong-willed, often managed to insert herself into whatever he was doing. Although her mother drew the line at any manual labor, Lady Alice did not think it so bad for a twelve-year old girl to spend some time in the barns, learning to milk a cow and tend to the hens. Like her husband, the Countess believed that it was important for their children to understand the responsibilities that came with their position, not solely the wealth and leisure.
This upbringing would later serve Catherine well. She married Sir Lewis De Bourgh of Kent in 1775, when she was twenty-two and he was thirty-four. Despite her pedigree and dowry, few potential suitors had shown any lingering interest in the Earl's eldest daughter over her first two seasons. Catherine was flattered by Sir Lewis' attention, even if he was only the second son of Lord Maxwell De Bourgh. She decided that his lesser title was redeemed by the De Bourgh's immense wealth. Sir Lewis courted her assiduously in the ballrooms and drawing rooms of London and they married at the end of the Season. Unfortunately, the bloom of her newly wedded state wore off quickly.
Sir Lewis moved his new wife to Rosings Park, his estate in Kent, and, upon ascertaining her first pregnancy, returned himself to London for "business". At first the young bride believed him, but as weeks went by with little or no communication from her husband, her opinion plummeted. As the months passed, the lackadaisical management of the estate also became clear to her. Lewis De Bourgh had no interest in the estate except that it continued to fund the lifestyle to which he was accustomed and occasionally to host a house party in the country for his friends.
Catherine's family, had they known the situation (she was too proud to tell anyone), could have predicted what happened next. Despite being several months pregnant, the young wife began to take the reins of the estate herself. It required every ounce of her formidable will to browbeat the servants and tenants into acknowledging her directives as they were accustomed to the freedom of an absentee landlord. The steward, a Mr. Harriman, was nearing fifty, had been born on the estate where his father had been steward, and fully intended for his own son to follow in his place. As the De Bourgh family had paid little interest to the management except that its rents continued to fill their coffers, the Harrimans were accustomed to carry on as they deemed best.
In spring of 1777, Catherine gave birth to a healthy boy and her husband returned in time to christen the babe Frederick. Sir Lewis paid little attention to his wife when she tried to discuss her concerns over the estate. Under the guise of celebrating the birth of his heir, he assembled a large group of his friends as a house party, although more gambling than fishing was done. Soon Catherine was pregnant again and Lewis left Rosings, feeling he had fulfilled his duties as husband and landlord and was justified in enjoying the benefits of his position far away from his pushy, increasingly outspoken wife.
Lady Catherine's life followed a similar pattern for some years, but as Frederick was followed by another boy (Herbert) she felt justified in barring Sir Lewis from her chambers. For the most part, the gentleman preferred the more compliant opera girls and courtesans he frequented in town, but on the rare occasion that he was in Kent, he would demand his rights as a husband out of principle. One of those occasions resulted in the birth of Miss Anne De Bourgh, nearly ten years younger than her eldest brother.
Unfortunately for the new babe, neither of her parents saw much use in female offspring, particularly one that seemed to wail constantly and in such a shrill tone that the nursery was removed to a distant wing, far from the family apartments. Anne's wet nurse was hired just as she was weaning her own baby, so even that girl had little affection to spare for the Lady's colicky baby.
As Anne grew, she changed from a noisy baby to a nearly silent child, often hiding from her loud, jolly brothers and critical mother. Of her father she knew not at all, except for a portrait in the gallery--he had not even bothered to come to her christening. Although Catherine tried to instill what she considered to be Fitzwilliam family values in her sons (to varying degrees of success), she largely ignored her daughter.
Even as her brothers were educated by a series of tutors and then sent off to school, Miss De Bourgh grew up with the same Mrs. Jenkinson who was first hired with the title of governess and later upgraded to companion. A young widow, Mrs. Jenkinson was a good woman but much of the spirit she had arrived with was soon squashed by Lady Catherine. She did her best to educate her young charge, though lessons were often interrupted by Anne's many childhood illnesses.
After much tribulation, reading was mastered once Mrs. Jenkinson discovered Anne's taste for fairy stories and romantic poetry. Lady Catherine would have been scandalized by most of the books purchased under the guise of "school texts" but it was a well-kept secret between student and teacher. The collection of penny dreadfuls and romance novels squirreled away in Anne's bedroom was never brought to the notice of her mother, who much preferred to call the girl to wait on her.
Mrs. Jenkinson did have some talent for music and had brought her small pianoforte with her to Kent after selling off all the other furnishings of her dead husband's house to pay his debts. On her rare free moment, the widow would closet herself with her old instrument and play songs that reminded her of a happier time. To that woman's credit, she made a valiant attempt to teach the young lady, but it was soon found that, in addition to a weak voice, Anne was completely tone deaf and without any sense of rhythm. Thus, singing and playing were given up, though they explained to Lady Catherine that it was on account of her daughter's health.
All of this changed in the summer of 1800.
In 1787, Lady Catherine's younger sister, Anne, had married an untitled but very wealthy gentleman named Mr. George Darcy. Despite her elder sister's loud criticisms that no good could come from such a connection to an untitled family, the new Mrs. Darcy settled in Derbyshire and enjoyed what appeared to be a happy alliance. Before her second wedding anniversary, Lady Anne bore a healthy boy, the heir to Pemberley, named Fitzwilliam for his mother's family.
Sadly, the subsequent years brought only several brief pregnancies that all ended in miscarriages, until the year before Fitzwilliam's tenth birthday. Lady Anne had not told her husband of the miscarriages; they had occurred so early that he had not noticed any change in her figure and she was uncomfortable speaking with him on such intimate subjects.
Mrs. Darcy went into labor more than a month before she was due, and so it was that after breakfast on his tenth birthday, Fitzwilliam (called Wills by his family) was brought to his mother's chamber and introduced to his new baby sister, Georgiana. It was a warm memory that he would carry with him for the rest of his life; the first time he had not been sent to visit his Fitzwilliam cousins at Matlock during his mother's illnesses.
It had been a difficult delivery and Lady Anne had been attended by only the midwife, her mother-in-law, and her friend Rebecca, the vicar's wife. Her sister had been present for her previous confinement but because of the premature labor, Lady Catherine did not arrive at Pemberley until little Georgiana was nearly four weeks old.
In truth, Lady Catherine had missed the express informing her that her sister needed her immediately. It had arrived at Rosings after her departure, but due to the conflicting orders given to her housekeeper, was returned to Derbyshire with a larger packet of mail to await her arrival. Lady Catherine herself took a slower route to Derbyshire, stopping in London to shop, pick up her two sons and, unfortunately, her husband.
Sir Lewis' decision to accompany the family was due to social politics rather than any affection. His latest affair in London had resulted in a scandal and his own father recommended that he spend a bit of time in the country with the rather staid and respectable Darcys while his reputation recovered. Whether by luck or providence, the De Bourghs traveled north to Derbyshire with Lady Catherine, Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson in one carriage, and Sir Lewis and his two sons in the other.
That gentleman's lethargy on the last days of the trip was dismissed as a preference to pass the dull time on the road by napping. Certainly his activities at the taverns each night after his family had retired kept him up late and required a goodly amount of energy. Unfortunately, one of the scullery maids with whom he spent several hours had a bit of a fever but chose to ignore it in her desire to pocket a few shillings. Not three days after the De Bourgh carriages left the inn with a fresh set of horses, the village would be quarantined for small pox.
When the De Bourghs arrived at Pemberley, Sir Lewis was so ill that he nearly fell out of the carriage and both Frederick and Herbert had fevers. Being the warm, friendly hostess that she was, Lady Anne brought them all into her house without a thought and set her servants to tending her sister's family. Her only precaution was to send a note to her mother-in-law, asking if that lady might keep baby Georgiana and her wet nurse at the Dower House until the illness had passed. Lady Edna was more than happy to have her granddaughter stay by her. Mr. Darcy, his eldest son and Pemberley's steward had traveled to Matlock only days before the De Bourgh's arrival.
When George Darcy had decided to visit his brother-in-law's estate to assist the newly minted Earl with a drainage issue, he could never have known the devastation he would return to, although the guilt would haunt him until his own demise. Mr. Darcy had received a letter from Henry Fitzwilliam requesting advice about several wheat fields that were often too boggy in the fall to harvest. Mr. Darcy decided it best to travel the thirty miles to Matlock to study the situation himself and announced that his son Fitzwilliam would be joining him, along with his steward, John Wickham.
Mr. Wickham asked and received permission to bring his own son, George. Master and steward hoped that such time together would encourage a steady friendship between the boys as existed between their fathers.
William was happy to be leaving his governess and tutor behind to spend a joyful week with his father and cousins. After a few days at Matlock, the drainage issue was worked out, but Mr. Darcy was tempted by his brother-in-law to remain for a week. Not being particularly fond of Lewis De Bourgh's company (or his sister-in-law, for that matter), he was tempted. His wife wrote encouraging him to remain-- understanding her husband's temperament and liking to encourage his friendship with her own brother, as well as her son's friendship with his Fitzwilliam cousins.
Lady Anne wrote that Pemberley was quiet-- Sir Lewis had arrived with a bit of a fever, but otherwise all was well. When Mr. Darcy decided to extend his own stay for a week to visit with the Fitzwilliams, Mr. Wickham allowed his own son to remain with the Darcys at Matlock while he himself rode back to Pemberley alone.
When Mr. Wickham reached Pemberley the next afternoon, he was shocked. Although Lady Anne had written of a fever, the illness was not identified as small pox until after that good man's return. The fever had spread rapidly from the family at Pemberley to the servants, the tenant families, and the villages of Lambton and Kympton. The doctor, though skilled, was at his wits end and had begun to fall ill himself.
Deaths began to be reported the day the loyal steward arrived and, though he worked tirelessly, it never seemed to be enough. Stunned by the extent of the suffering, his only consolation was that his own wife and child were safely away. Indeed, when Wickham himself woke with a fever, his last effort was to pen a letter to his employer, begging that gentleman to look after his widow and son.
It is understandable that Lady Catherine's sanity suffered as she watched her sister, husband, and sons all die miserably over a span of less than two weeks. Georgiana and her grandmother were the only Darcys left at Pemberley and, as they were restricted to the Dower House, Lady Catherine resolutely took charge. It was not a pleasant charge as the small pox took its toll on the neighborhood.
Both the housekeeper and butler at Pemberley succumbed to the fever early, even before Lady Anne. Young Susan Reynolds, previously of the dairy and then promoted to the kitchens, stepped into the void and worked tirelessly to manage the house. Her practical, no-nonsense nature might not have endeared her to Lady Catherine in a different situation (that lady preferring the cowering, obsequious style of servant), but her organizational ability and familiarity with Pemberley (in addition to her continued health) made her indispensible.
For the next three weeks, Lady Catherine came to rely on the vicar, Mr. Jonathan, and his wife Rebecca, who worked day and night to support the healthy and see to the sick. Even as the cemeteries filled, many lives were saved due to their efforts. Sadly, their generous natures did not grant them immunity to the disease and they passed within hours of each other.
Through all of this, Lady Catherine persevered. She organized the healthy to see to those most fundamental tasks that kept all fed and clean. She wrote to her brother, ordering that Mr. Darcy and his son not return until the sickness was gone. Mr. Darcy was unhappy, feeling that it was his duty to be at Pemberley, but agreed after much pressure from the Earl and his wife. Finally, as the fever burnt itself out and left behind a tattered remnant of the population, it was also Lady Catherine who wrote to Mr. Darcy and the Fitzwilliams with news of the deaths.
After so much misery, Lady Catherine was very nearly mad by the time Mr. Darcy returned to Pemberley, nearly a month after he had left. When the carriage stopped at the front steps, there was an odd moment of hesitation when no footmen came out from the house or stable. Even the birds seemed quiet. Mr. Darcy had just opened the carriage door himself and stepped down when a strange woman appeared at the front door. He only recognized the thin, grey-haired crone as his sister-in-law when she looked past him and cried to his son.
"Fitzwilliam! You must not be here! Return to Matlock, or go to the Dower House." She turned to Mr. Darcy and her urgency turned to bitter anger. "Fool! What are you thinking, to bring him to this house of death? Have you no care for my sister's only son?!"
Father and son stood for some minutes, stunned to silence, even after Lady Catherine retreated indoors and slammed the door of Pemberley House behind her. Eventually, Mr. Darcy gathered some wits about him.
"Son, she is correct. You will go stay with your grandmother until I am certain it is safe."
Wills rarely argued with his parent, but an innate sense of duty was already pushing him to put his responsibilities before himself. "But Father…"
"No." Mr. Darcy interrupted shortly. He sighed. "You must go to the Dower House and look after Georgiana and your grandmother. Will you do that?"
Wills nodded seriously, accepting the responsibility, and turned to climb back into the carriage by himself. Mr. Darcy gave his instructions to the driver but did not turn back to farewell his son, even as the carriage crunched down the gravel drive. His whole attention was focused on the house his forefathers had built and maintained for hundreds of years. Feeling centuries older than his forty-two years, George forced himself up the steps and through the door.
After standing for some moments to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, he noticed a young woman moving to meet him. Clearly not his sister-in-law, yet she moved with a sense of confidence and authority.
"Mr. Darcy." She curtseyed.
"Err, yes…"
Seeing that the master was overwhelmed and did not recognize her, the servant spoke. "Mrs. Reynolds, Sir. I've been filling in as housekeeper since Mrs. Thompkins and Mr. Johns passed."
Darcy forced his mind to focus and was reassured with the recognition that followed. "Of course, Mr. Moore's daughter Susan. You just married John Reynolds in March, did you not?"
The woman nodded. "Yes, Sir. My husband died early in the fever, but my father is still at work in the stables here." Her eyes betrayed her sadness for a moment before she drew herself together and continued. "I'm sorry if no one met your carriage, Sir, but we didn't know to expect it and I'm afraid that hands are short."
Her master was already shaking his head. "Not a problem. Lady Catherine met us." Seeing the servant look toward the window, he continued. "I sent my son and the carriage along to the Dower House until I was certain that the main house was… was…" He trailed off, but Mrs. Reynolds was already nodding.
"That was wise, sir. There's been no sickness at old Mrs. Darcy's house and they're so well-provisioned that they'll last some more weeks, even feeding a few more mouths. There's been no new sickness here in a week, but it's better safe than sorry with the young ones, I say."
Mr. Darcy was relieved by these facts, but thinking of his surviving son led to thoughts of the fate of others. He turned his mind to more immediate issues. "Mrs. Reynolds, please come to my study. There is a great deal I need to know."
Though widely known as a jolly, social man, from that moment forward, old Mr. Darcy fought a melancholy that often seemed to overwhelm him. Even as he worked to bury the dead and rebuild his estate, he mourned his wife, denied even the comfort of attending her funeral as the bodies had been interred within hours of death for fear of contagion.
His state was not helped by Lady Catherine's attitude. Years married to Sir Lewis had left that lady with a deep bitterness toward the power of men. In her mental and physical exhaustion she had become convinced that only she could successfully run the estate. When she was not ignoring Mr. Darcy, she was haranguing him, blaming the epidemic on his neglectful management and her sister's death on that lady's marriage.
Weighed down by his own guilt, Mr. Darcy could only think that he somehow deserved such reproofs. Such was the situation when old Mrs. Darcy finally returned to the main house with the two Darcy children. Lady Edna was a force unto herself and Lady Catherine soon found herself waging a losing battle for control. She was still furious when her own brother arrived (summoned by Lady Edna).
Finding his sister in the Mistress' study which she had commandeered for herself, Lord Henry sat down in a nearby chair and waited until she dismissed the maid that she had been lecturing. When the door closed, Lady Catherine turned to him.
"Yes, Henry? What is it?"
The Earl reminded himself to keep his voice gentle despite his irritation at her tone. "I came to see how you are, Catherine."
His sister gave him a look that expressed all of her impatience at her younger sibling. Henry tried again.
"Catherine, you have been working very hard. You must not forget to take care of yourself. You have lost as much as any of us. You must take time to mourn."
"Must! MUST! I shall be the judge of what I must do, just as I have been for some time."
He sighed. "Sister, you have held the place together, no one is disregarding your efforts. But Darcy is here now. It is time to step back and allow the Darcys to rebuild their lives."
"Step back! This is my sister's estate! Her son's legacy! How can you think I would leave it to fall to ruin?!"
Henry closed his eyes for a moment before leaning forward and taking his sister's hand, only to have it snatched back. "Catherine, you must listen to me. I loved our sister as much as you, and I swear to God that I shall look after her children as if they were my own. However, we must remember that Anne's husband lived. George Darcy is the head of the Darcy family and Master of Pemberley. We can offer him our help, but we must respect his position."
"His position!" Sputtered Catherine.
She was gathering breath for a diatribe on why everything was George Darcy's fault when her brother tried a different tact. "What about Rosings? With your sons gone, is Sir Lewis' daughter his heir?"
"What?!" Clearly Lady Catherine had never considered losing Rosings Park.
"Sister, I was not involved in negotiating the settlement for your marriage. Father dealt with Lord Maxwell. He mentioned it in his letters to me but only in generalities. The only thing I do know for sure is that the De Bourghs like to keep their land and money in the family and preferably the male line. Do you know anything about Sir Lewis' will?"
Lady Catherine (Fitzwilliam) De Bourgh gaped like a fish. Had the circumstances been different, Henry might have found it amusing to see his sister speechless for the first time in her life. Before she could recover, there was a knock on the door.
Henry tensed, knowing what was to come. He had arranged for Catherine's daughter to be brought down, hoping to remind his sister that she still had a living child. Into this charged atmosphere came little Anne De Bourgh, escorted by her very solemn cousin. Fitzwilliam Darcy might have been slightly shorter and a few years younger than his female relative but he was clearly taking his duty as host of the nursery very seriously.
In all the turmoil, Catherine had largely forgotten her daughter. Upon arriving at Pemberley, the girl had been assigned rooms in the family wing. However, Mrs. Jenkinson had seen small pox before and had immediately acted to isolate herself and her charge in a far wing at the first mention of a fever.
Still reeling from the idea of losing her home, Catherine focused on the two children standing uncomfortably before her. "Anne…"
For the first time that the girl could remember, her mother reached out a hand to touch her. They did not embrace; that would have been too much physicality for either. The touch alone was enough to bring tears to Anne's eyes.
"Anne… Are you well?" Catherine cleared her voice and gathered her wits about her. "Has Mrs. Jenkinson been caring for you properly?"
"Yes, Mother." Miss De Bourgh spoke barely above a whisper.
"You look thin. Have you been eating properly?"
Having never received so much focused attention from her mother, Anne could only repeat. "Yes, Mother."
Lady Catherine turned her attention to her nephew. "And you, Fitzwilliam. You have returned to Pemberley House. Have you and Anne been spending time together?"
Something in Catherine's voice vaguely worried Lord Henry, but he was so relieved to see his sister showing interest in her daughter that he brushed it aside. He watched his nephew answer her questions with all gravity, foreshadowing the serious, responsible man he would grow to become. The Earl had spent quite a bit of time with the lad over the last month while Mr. Darcy and his son had been forced to remain at Matlock. Though he would never admit it to anyone, Henry Fitzwilliam wished his own heir showed half as much promise.
Lord Henry's attention was brought back to the present when his sister stood. Turning, Lady Catherine directed her most imperious expression at her brother. "Henry. I have decided that it is critical for me to return to Kent with the children immediately. I have done all I can here. Inform Mr. Darcy that I shall spend the afternoon overseeing the packing and depart in the morning. He may write to me with his questions regarding the management of the estate and household."
With that, Lady Catherine De Bourgh swept from the room with the two children trailing along in her wake. Henry grimaced. He might be an Earl, head of the wealthy and well-connected Fitzwilliam family and honored in the House of Lords, but his elder sister would always treat him like an errand boy. Chuckling for the first time in weeks, he left the room and headed to Darcy's study to pass on the news.
From that day on, Lady Catherine was assiduously protective of her daughter's health. Lord Henry tried not to consider how much of that care was due to its import upon her own position rather than maternal feelings. To his widow's horror, Sir Lewis' will stated that if all of his children died without issue, then Rosings would fall to one of his brothers.
Unfortunately, Lady Catherine's form of cosseting consisted of keeping Anne indoors, wrapped in thick blankets and dosed with every sort of physic that her doctor might recommend. Within a year, Miss De Bourgh could not sleep without a generous dose of laudanum and spent most of her days in an opiate-induced blur. This detail did not deter her mother's new crusade; to marry the heiress of Rosings Park to the heir of Pemberley.
Chapter 6. The Viper Room.
Posted on 2010-06-17
April 1818
When Fitzwilliam Darcy returned to London from Kent, he threw himself into work--estate matters, business investments, charity requests, household accounts-- nothing was too minor to merit his attention. He avoided Georgiana and took most of his meals at the desk in his study. Unfortunately, his efforts only served to worry and then irritate his secretary, stewards and housekeeper, and to exhaust himself.
After two weeks, he spent an evening locked in the library, drinking an unaccustomed quantity of brandy and staring morosely into the fire. The only benefit was that, for the first time in months, he slept without dreaming of her. Or at least, he couldn't remember the dreams.
When Darcy woke the next morning (much later than his norm), he felt as though he had been put through a laundry wringer. More than anything, he wished he could take a long, bruising gallop through the countryside to blow the cobwebs out of his mind, but this was London and he had no desire to prance down Rotten Row with the fashionable crowd. Instead, he took himself to his fencing club, hoping that the physical exertion would yield a similar result. Unfortunately, sleepless nights combined with a distracted mind led to poor concentration. He was soundly thrashed by his fencing master.
Leaving the building, William waved off his carriage and walked home. He must master this obsession! Elizabeth Bennet had turned him down in no uncertain terms! She despised him and not even his wealth and connections could overcome her poor estimation of his character.
Darcy slapped his stick against his leg forcefully. If she could not see his value, then clearly she was the one who was lacking. He was a good master, an honorable gentleman, and a good brother (he quickly squashed a flash of guilt over how little time he had spent with Georgiana since his return from Rosings).
By the time Darcy returned home to Derwent House, he had concluded that the best way to convince himself of Elizabeth's inferiority was to throw himself into the Season. After checking his schedule and the pile of invitations that had accumulated over the past month, he found an invitation for a ball being held that very evening by Lord and Lady Carlisle in honor of their daughter's coming out. It was still early enough in the Season that all the new debutants would be fresh and relatively untarnished, he thought cynically.
Darcy's mind wavered when he read a note from Bingley indicating that the younger man was still on his annual visit to his Yorkshire relatives. Could he face the madding crowd without the buffer of his more out-going friend to ease the way?
Sitting at his desk, it unnerved William how easy it was to slip into his old habit of daydreaming that Elizabeth was there with him. Before he could stop himself, he imagined her sitting in the armchair by the window, reading letters of her own, occasionally turning to relay something she thought would amuse him.
What would Elizabeth say if he confessed he was uncomfortable attending a ball alone? The answer came to him immediately, coupled with a vision of the lady herself seated at his aunt's pianoforte with one eyebrow raised. "Why Mr. Darcy, you must take the trouble to practice!" Without daring to think much on the course of his reasoning, the gentleman notified the butler of his plans and retreated to his rooms to bathe and dress.
Within ten minutes of entering the grand ball, Darcy had retreated to a corner by a punch table. As he did his best imitation of a forbidding statue, he overheard a countess discussing the attentions of a gentleman to her daughter with a baroness and several other noble matrons.
"Such a charming young man, and so rich!"
"And such a comfort that his estate is so near your own."
"I always knew that my dear Jenny could not be so beautiful for nothing."
"Has he asked for her hand yet?"
"Oh, I am certain it will be any day now. I have already instructed the butler to 'accidently' leave them alone in the drawing room for a few minutes, the next time he calls." The ladies burst into peels of satisfied laughter before the Countess continued.
"And when she is married, Jenny shall be able to throw her sisters in the way of other rich men! Such a comfort in my time of life. Their brother has been no help whatsoever. The friends he brings home from university! I don't understand a word they say--it's all Greek and Latin when they're not spending hours staring at a chessboard without moving a piece. Do you know he was upset with me when I asked what sort of income one young man could expect?"
"Upset?"
"Most certainly! He gave me some interminable lecture on the value of a man not being measured by his income or inheritance. As though I should not protect my girls from the attentions of an inappropriate match!" The lady paused to take a breath; a good thing as it gave the bobbing feathers attached to her turban a chance to settle back into their natural position.
"The boy turned out to be the son of a mere country gentleman, no connections to speak of; his father's estate brings in barely five thousand a year and he was paying attentions to my daughter, can you imagine?"
The other ladies bobbed their own turbans in agreement and commiseration, before moving away like a flock of oddly coloured birds. Darcy stood still with his punch cup, doing his best not to attract any attention. His mind was not still, however, and he searched his memory for why the conversation had sounded so familiar. He did not recognize the words as reminiscent of those that he had so condemned from Mrs. Bennet until he overheard a second conversation, this one between the Countess' daughter Jenny and her sister.
"Oh, Mama. How can she speak of such things so…"
"Easily? Loudly? Unthinkingly?" Responded the sister.
"I am sure that she means well."
"She may mean well, but that does not give her leave to disregard every rule of propriety." The two sisters sighed together with a sense of long-suffering a well-meaning parent. "It has taught us a valuable lesson; breeding has absolutely nothing to do with birth."
"Eva, you must not say such things." Remonstrated the elder sister, even as she could barely restrain her own laughter. "And you know that I would never…"
The other voice became more serious. "I know you will never marry a man you cannot respect, Jenny."
"But Eva… I would wish… I would so much like… to marry for love."
"And so you shall, my dear. Simply take care that you fall in love with a gentleman of large fortune… and preferably a title, if you can manage it."
"Oh Eva…." The two young ladies moved away, hiding their giggles behind fans.
The famous Darcy mask was firmly in place but William was laughing on the inside. In his mind's eye, he could perfectly imagine Elizabeth and her elder sister having a similar conversation after their mother embarrassed them with a flight of wild volubility.
Will blinked and couldn't stop himself from scratching his head. Had he just compared Mrs. Bennet to the Countess of Dorchester? Focus man! He commanded himself.
Looking for answers, Darcy ran his eyes over the room. Just entering were a fashionable couple, the man jovial and vaguely familiar and the wife happily greeting friends with hugs and kisses before naturally gravitating back to her husband's arm. The affection between the pair was obvious and with a pang, Will recognized the intense desire in himself to be part of such a relationship.
He turned away quickly and was faced with the polar opposite. Mask firmly in place, he bowed. "Cousin Edward, Lady Almida." He greeted his eldest cousin, the Earl of Matlock's heir (and one of the most immoral, profligate men of his acquaintance) and that man's wife (a self-centered, manipulative, society priestess who made Caroline Bingley look like a saint). The Viscount grunted at the younger cousin whom he considered to be an uptight, straight-laced prig and departed for the card tables.
Unsurprised, Darcy barely controlled a shiver when he felt a pair of claws take possession of his arm. "Darcy, dearest. Aren't you going to ask me to dance?" Lady Almida had never quite forgiven the tall, handsome, and above all, exceedingly wealthy gentleman for not falling to her feet when she was first introduced to Society.
Having no recourse, Darcy resigned himself. At least she was already married and would not be trying to trap him in that way. He led her to the next room where a dance was just forming and asked after her son, hoping that would be a neutral topic.
"Oh, my darling Reggie is wonderful, a perfect angel. You must come visit us in Essex. Edward is so often away, we could have a lovely visit." Just in case he had missed her invitation, she brushed her hand across the fold of his trousers as she circled him in the dance.
Gritting his teeth in disgust, Darcy only barely kept himself from stalking away and leaving her standing alone on the dance floor. However, he knew from experience that Lady Almida would find a way to punish him, probably by telling the gossips that he had suggested a rendez vous and had walked away when she refused him.
Focus, man. He reminded himself. "How old is Reggie? It seems as though your wedding was just a month ago."
Almida laughed but allowed him the diversion. "Oh, Darcy, you charmer. My dear boy is nearly two, the very image of his grandfather."
"The Earl?"
There was a flicker in the Lady's eyes that William could not interpret. "Oh, I had not thought of that; perhaps he does have a bit of Lord Henry about the eyes. No, I meant my own father, the Baron Asbury."
Darcy wondered at her emotion, but knew he could not let her take control of the conversation again for fear her next invitation was not as easily deflected. "Of course. It must be delightful to watch your child growing up on the same estate where you yourself spent your childhood."
The dance had come to an end, and as they made their final obeisance she looked him full in the face. "Yes. Yes, it does." Lady Almida looked oddly vulnerable for a moment before her eyes focused over Darcy's shoulder and any softness instantly disappeared. "Thank you for a lovely dance, Mr. Darcy." She cooed, holding out her hand for him to kiss before moving off to several of her cronies, leaving William to wonder if he had imagined her reaction.
What was he doing here? He wondered even as he worked his way through the crowd to find a spot along a wall, his stony visage an expression which Hertfordshire's society would have recognized immediately. The ball was already a crush and he could see people still arriving. There were entire rooms that he had not yet ventured into. Even if by some ridiculous twist of fate, Elizabeth had appeared at the ball, he doubted he would have seen her in the swirl of silks and glitter of jewels. Not that he was looking for her, he reminded himself.
Though he desperately wished to escape the function, Darcy forced himself to maneuver through the mob into one of the rooms where a light buffet was set up. Seeing several of his more pleasant Fitzwilliam cousins, he joined them at the table, eating quietly as they chattered on about the evening.
"Darcy, where have you been?" Asked Lady Ellen. The second eldest of the Fitzwilliam children, she was more than five years older than her Darcy cousin and saw it as her duty to regularly step in as the elder sister he lacked.
Will relaxed his mask enough to venture a weak smile. "I was a bit late, but I had the honour of dancing with Lady Almida for a set."
Ellen had a similarly low opinion of her sister-in-law and patted his arm comfortingly. "Poor Wills. Did she leave any claw marks? There must be a doctor about if you require stitches." She was pleased to coax a laugh (camouflaged as a cough) from her very serious cousin. "Not to worry; just stay close to Olivia and me and we shall protect you from the vipers." She turned to respond to a question asked on her other side, leaving Darcy to his thoughts.
Watching the young (and not so young) ladies titter and flirt with the gentlemen, Darcy was struck by a revelation. Jane Bennet had acted the perfect example of proper, ladylike behavior. He had told his friend that he had seen no evidence of affection, but really, if he had, would he not have condemned her as too forward? A flirt no better than these so-called well-bred Society ladies he was currently surrounded by and despised? Which would he want Georgiana to imitate, Lady Almida or Miss Bennet? Why had he been so determined to condemn Elizabeth's family?
Not much later, Darcy excused himself and began the exhausting process of working his way toward the mansion's entrance (or, in his case, its exit). In the next to last room, a husband and wife known to Darcy greeted him and then asked leave to introduce their niece, Miss Elizabeth Barnett. Darcy had only caught a glimpse of a dark-haired young lady in yellow behind them, but upon hearing her name, he started and turned to her with an intent look that fell rapidly into a frown when he realized that it was not HER.
Luckily, Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared at his elbow and, after charmingly begging an introduction, swept the young lady off for a dance. Darcy spent some minutes with the couple (pleasant but dull) but most of his attention was on watching the pair dance. Richard spoke easily, smiling and flirting, and soon the young lady had recovered her spirits from the odd reaction of the handsome Darcy heir.
Will had just collected his coat and hat when Richard appeared at his side again. "Darce! Are you off? Mind if I beg a ride? I've had quite enough of this crush."
Darcy agreed and indicated that he would wait outside while the Colonel collected his coat. When Richard emerged, he trotted down the pink marble steps but came to a halt when he noticed his cousin. William had stepped off the street into the front garden, a lilac bush hiding him from most passers by. He had removed his hat and was staring up at the stars with a desperate look of melancholy etched in his face.
A moment later, the spell was broken. A boy ran up the sidewalk and called. "Mr. Darcy, Sir. Your carriage is just pulling around."
Replacing his hat, Mr. Darcy moved toward the voice. "Thank you." Tossing a copper to the lad, he nodded at Richard and the two men walked toward the carriage.
Richard watched as his cousin's mask descended. His own duties had kept him busy for the last few weeks and he had not seen William since their return from Kent. That carriage ride had been mostly quiet. His cousin had been unsettled, but Richard had assumed it was the result of confronting Lady Catherine over his decision to not marry her daughter. Now he was not so sure and he had a sneaking suspicion as to what, or rather who was the cause of his cousin's angst.
As the two men settled back into the cushioned seats, Richard stretched his legs out and sighed. "'Tis a beautiful evening. Almost seems a waste to take a carriage instead of walk."
William managed a smirk. "Tired out after too much dancing?"
Richard was pleased to see a spark of liveliness in his cousin. "I'll have you know I've been up since five drilling a new batch of recruits. Bloody fools. By God, I wish, just once, that families would consider their sons' aptitudes when choosing which service to buy their commission instead of which uniform looks most impressive, or matches the boy's eyes or… Oh, I don't know. I swear, one of the lads is afraid of his horse but he can swim like a fish and read the wind like a bird. And why was he sent into the cavalry instead of the navy? His mother likes red coats better than blue. Bloody fools, the lot of them."
Darcy had heard his cousin's complaints before. Though he had no first-hand knowledge of military life, he could understand the frustration of working with underlings whose talents were not best matched to their tasks. As master of his own households and estates, he had a certain freedom in moving people to positions for which they were better suited. He could easily comprehend the colonel's frustration at not being able to do so.
The carriage pulled up at the Darcy's townhouse on Grosvenor Square and Richard accepted an invitation to come in for a nightcap. "Although if you have any more of that excellent brandy, you may have to lend me a bed for the night."
Darcy chuckled, knowing from painful experience that his older cousin had a much better head for liquor than he himself did.
The two men left their coats and hats with the butler and Richard headed to his cousin's library while Darcy checked for messages. Smiling to himself when he found a nearly full decanter of excellent French brandy, the Colonel poured out two generous snifters. He sniffed and tasted it out of habit but was much more concerned with plotting how best to tease out the cause of his cousin's melancholy than savoring the brandy, however excellent.
When Darcy entered, he received the snifter with a nod of thanks and both men settled into the comfortable armchairs arranged by the fire.
"Did you see that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was at the ball?" Asked Richard casually, though he watched his cousin closely out of the corner of his eye.
"Barnett, not Bennet. And of course I saw her; I introduced you before you danced with her." Darcy said grumpily.
"Oh no, it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet from Kent. Or rather, Hertfordshire, I suppose. I wasn't able to get to her in the crush--just caught a glimpse across the room. She arrived with a slightly older couple, looked very fashionable. Didn't she have an aunt and uncle in London?"
By now, Will's heart was pounding and his mouth was dry. "Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner."
"Perhaps we should call on them. Do you know their address?" Richard probed.
"Gracechurch Street. Near Cheapside." He was barely able to unlock his jaw to speak and unconsciously leaned away from his cousin, dreading his response. When it came, he was stunned.
"Hmmm… That makes sense. They were fashionable and clearly well-known but I didn't recognize them from Father's set. Do you know where on Gracechurch Street?" Richard was increasingly certain of his suspicion that Darcy had developed a tendre for Miss Bennet.
"Fashionable and well-known?" Darcy couldn't hide all of his shock. "It was common knowledge in Hertfordshire that Elizabeth's uncle is in trade. Since when is Cheapside fashionable?" He did not even notice his slip in referring to her by her first name.
Bull's eye! Richard took a sip of his brandy to hide an amused grin. "Gracechurch Street is near Cheapside, but some of the houses along there are beautiful. Haven't you ever been through the neighborhood? It runs somewhere between the East India House on Leadenhall and the Bank of England on Threadneedle. Really, cousin, I had not realized that you were so provincial as to know nothing beyond the neighborhood of Grosvenor Square!"
Seeing that Darcy was still looking confused, Richard tried again. "Well, you do know where the new London Bridge is being built? At the end of King William Street? Or at least you still remember where Christopher Wren's monument to the Great Fire is, yes?"
Darcy rolled his eyes at his cousin's sarcasm.
"Well, if you go north on King William and veer right at the Monument…. Poof! You are on Gracechurch Street. Further north it turns into Bishopsgate, after you cross Leadenhall."
He smiled at Darcy's expression. Another suspicion clicked into place. Was his cousin resisting his feelings for Miss Bennet because he believed her to be socially inferior? "Trade or not, many of the families that live along there are wealthier than some of the cash-strapped peers living in Bloomsbury… or Mayfair for that matter. Many with excellent connections; younger sons finding an honest way to support their families and so forth."
Darcy remained silent, staring into the fire and looking thoughtful. Richard decided that he had given his younger cousin enough to think about on that subject for the moment.
"By the way, are you going to John Cookson's wedding tomorrow? It's at Saint Paul's, though I can't imagine he has enough family left to fill his side of the pews."
Will forced his mind away from the Gardiners' condition in life. "I saw the invitation, but didn't realize it was tomorrow." He admitted. "I hadn't even realized that he was engaged. Who is the bride?"
Richard rolled his eyes. "Miss Cecily Rickles, Heaven help him."
Darcy couldn't help but groan. Miss Rickles had come out the previous season. Her beauty, wealth, and connections all made her popularity in Society a certainty. Darcy's aunt, the Countess of Matlock, had hosted a dinner party and made certain that her favorite nephew was seated next to the young lady. Darcy himself had approached the introduction with a certain eagerness. At twenty-six, he had been increasingly tired of bachelorhood and all that he had heard suggested that Miss Rickles might be just what he was looking for in a wife.
Unfortunately, it had taken less than two courses for him to realize that the pretty face hid a vapid and poorly educated mind. He had rapidly given up any discussion of literature or current events. She agreed that she had recently seen a play and he was able to piece together that it had probably been Hamlet only after Miss Rickles commented on the color of the curtain (blue with gold tassels), which he recognized as being unique to one theatre on Drury Lane. The acting had been "nice," the staging had been "pretty," and the plot had been beyond her ability to describe, literally.
"I suppose some men might prefer a silly wife." Darcy said without thinking, then slapped one hand over his mouth.
Richard roared with laughter at his cousin's loosened tongue. "Well said, my boy, well said! I'm glad to see that wicked sense of humor hasn't become completely atrophied while I was away."
Darcy tried to cover his embarrassment by taking a sip of wine. He couldn't quite contain his curiosity, however. "How did Cookson… When did they…" Will trailed off, not quite able to phrase his question without speaking poorly of the lady.
Richard laughed again. "How did he get himself shackled to the dullest, stupidest girl of our acquaintance? Family dynastics, of course. Mother and Ellen were talking about it at breakfast this morning. It sounded like the fathers had the marriage contracts drawn up before the bride and groom even met."
Even with his own recent disappointment, Darcy couldn't help but ask. "Are you serious? Was no account taken for affection?"
Richard snorted. "Old Mr. Cookson desired a connection to the Duke of Northumberland, which the Rickles possess. And apparently there is some possibility that John has a claim to the Earl of Ailesbury's title when old Brudenell finally dies… Or something like that. I have to admit, I wasn't particularly interested after I'd established the bare facts."
Darcy shook his head. John Cookson was a few years younger but they were both members of the same circle and met socially on occasion. He wasn't a particularly brilliant man but Darcy would never have called him stupid. He found himself wondering what he would have done in the same situation, if his parents had lived and arranged his marriage to a woman with whom he had nothing in common.
William sat lost in thought for some minutes until he went to take a drink and found his glass empty. He stood and refilled his glass and then Richard's after silently gesturing with the decanter.
Sipping his brandy, Richard leaned further back in the comfortable armchair and stared into the fire. He spoke thoughtfully. "It has been very interesting, being back in society this last month after so long in the trenches."
Darcy blinked and looked over to his cousin. Richard spoke little of his time in war. Other noblemen's sons might have purchased a uniform but avoided any active service. Richard, however, had earned every advancement with blood and sweat, his most recent promotion coming on the battlefield after his squadron's previous commander had been killed by a sniper.
"This is a strange world we live in, you know. So much time and money spent on such frivolous nothings. And the angst! I was born into this Society, believing that the only thing that mattered was money and consequence. I may have laughed at it, but I never really questioned it. Remember how I always said that I could only ever marry a wealthy woman?" Richard paused for another sip of brandy.
Darcy's attention was now fully engaged. "And that has changed?"
The colonel gave a harsh bark of a laugh. "I feel like I am observing some strange, foreign culture that I once read about in a book. I can still remember the dance steps--I can flirt and charm with the best of them--but now it feels like a charade I am forced to play when the situation demands it."
Richard tossed off the remainder of his brandy. "Bah. I need something stronger than this." Examining the bottles on his cousin's wet bar, he chose a single malt scotch that he judged would have the bite he needed. As he poured, he continued speaking softly.
"All those primped and powdered dandies. I found myself imagining what Dunn would say; probably wonder how many of them could dress themselves without help!" Richard chuckled.
Not quite knowing what to think (he himself had relied on a valet since… well, since his nurse had stopped dressing him), Darcy ventured a quiet question. "Dunn?"
Richard blinked at him as though he had just been asked what water was. "Dunn. Andy Dunn. Oh, bother; of course you wouldn't know. He was my batman; not an officer, but the entire company would have fallen apart in a minute if he hadn't been there, myself included. Food, supplies, horses. Once we were camped in a bog for days--pinned down by artillery on two sides. Rats would gnaw on our boot leather while we slept, even as we wore them. So, there we were, bitter cold with holes in our boots, even stuffing them with rags didn't help; just left us with cold, wet feet feeling like lead weights. Then, two days before we were supposed to sneak our way out, Dunn appeared with a sack full of shoe leather and waxed thread. We spent the day sewing new soles on our boots and then everyone marched out with dry feet."
Richard took a swig of whiskey and enjoyed the burn down his throat. "There is nothing in this world so wonderful as dry feet."
"How did he manage it?"
The Colonel shrugged with a chuckle. "I have no idea and he would never tell us. Had some of the younger lads convinced he was Merlin reborn. He comes from a big family--fourteen children in some fishing village near Ipswich--and said it was something he'd picked up from minding the young ones. Keep some candies or surprises hidden in a secret pocket and produce them with a flourish. After that, the kiddies would follow him anywhere."
"He sounds like a good man."
Richard smiled fondly. "He is the very best of men, the very best of friends." His voice became rough. "Darce, I don't think I would have made it back this last time without him."
Sensing that his cousin needed someone to confide in, Will stood silently to refill Richard's glass. The colonel nodded his thanks, but his eyes were unfocused, looking beyond the fire.
"We were sneaking out through the artillery, a couple hours before dawn-- that's when the enemy's sentries are usually least alert. Only five miles, but it took hours, mostly on our bellies. We went single file, spaced out with Dunn leading, as he'd scouted the route, and me bringing up the rear so we didn't lose any stragglers."
Richard closed his eyes. "We made it through the worst and were about a mile from where our regiment was dug in when some fool of a lieutenant saw us coming. I heard later that he and his buddy had been drinking bootleg all night instead of watching their posts." Richard paused and threw down the remainder of his whiskey.
"And of course, the intelligence that we were coming hadn't made it down to the rank and file, so they thought they were seeing a band of enemy infiltrators. In their inebriated condition, it seemed eminently logical to use the canon they were sitting on."
Darcy was stunned. "Are you saying that you were fired upon by your own side?"
Richard tried to smile. "And I have the scars to prove it. For better or worse, their aim was off; they overshot us by a bit."
"And you were closest."
"I was indeed. I tried to jump into a ditch, but as I went in headfirst, it protected my handsome face, but not much else."
"I knew you returned because you had been wounded, but never knew the specifics of what happened."
Richard smirked. "Ah, yes. Let us just say that I spent most of my time in the hospital lying on my belly, shall we? So there I was, lying in a muddy, Indian ditch, bleeding from my backside, when whose ugly face should pop up like some nefarious chipmunk?"
Darcy was lost in imagining the nightmarish scene and didn't respond.
"It was Dunn, of course. After realizing that I wasn't going to be able to walk out, he started dragging me. Unfortunately, the cannon blast had woken up the enemy sentries, and one of them came poking around in my ditch. Before we knew what happened, Dunn had a bayonet stuck through his shoulder."
Richard stood and refilled his whiskey.
Will grimaced. "But what happened? How did you get away?"
"I shot him." Said the Colonel plainly, with his back to the room. "When I first received my commission, Father gave me a little pistol, really too small to do any good except at point blank range. The lads used to tease me about it, but I always kept it primed and in my pocket. As soon as I saw that bayonet go into Dunn, I twisted around fired."
Richard took a swig of whiskey, wishing it would numb the memory. "He was just a boy, Darce. Somehow I'd fired into his open mouth, blew the back of his head off, but when he fell, it looked like he was just lying in the grass on his back, looking up at the sky, all brown eyes and black hair. He could have been any of the lads we'd ever played with growing up." He bit his lip; lately too much whiskey made him maudlin.
They were quiet for some minutes until Darcy finally spoke. "Did Dunn survive?" He was surprised to hear Richard chuckle.
"Oh, nothing could kill that old ratcatcher. I pulled out the bayonet and we did our best to wrap up the wound. Then we set about getting ourselves back to camp. Used the bayonet as a cane; I had two good arms and shoulders, but my legs were a mess. He had two good legs, but couldn't use his arm. We made a sorry pair, carrying each other. I suppose that's why the sentries didn't shoot us when we dragged our sorry asses into camp. But the way we were giggling like a couple of schoolboys might have been a contributing factor."
"What on Earth did you have to laugh about?"
Richard smiled in memory. "We were both nearly bled out, so just about anything seemed amusing." Seeing his cousin was dumbfounded, he explained. "We'd been in some tight corners over the years but neither of us had ever gotten more than a scratch. Now, here we were; I'd been blasted by our own men and Dunn had been stuck by beardless drummer boy with a pigsticker. I remember telling the surgeon that we had about enough working parts between us to make one good man."
"But you both made it back."
"Yes, more or less. Dunn didn't lose his arm but it doesn't work all that well. I may not need a cane forever but I won't be winning any footraces." Richard stopped there. His pride made it impossible to speak of all his injuries, even to his cousin.
"What will you do now? Have you thought of resigning your commission?" Darcy admired his cousin, but didn't want to lose him.
Richard shrugged. "Not just yet. I'm due for another promotion in about six months and until then, they've got me trying to dribble a bit of common sense into these younglings with their morning milk. I was able to keep Dunn with me, though, and he's got the barracks humming in rare form."
The Colonel stood and the effort it took made him decide that he had had enough for the night. "After that, who knows? Obviously I don't have an estate to settle down on, and though they'd take me in, I'd go crazy cooped up with Mater and Pater, trying to be a proper social accoutrement."
After their chuckles subsided, Richard continued. "Actually, Dunn and I have been talking about going into a partnership."
"A business?"
Richard smiled crookedly. "No, politics. I'd be the front man--second son of an Earl, decorated officer, and all that. And Dunn would be my manager--the puppet master. Make sure I'm always in the right place at the right time. Remind me who's who and keep me from offending them. Make sure a crowd shows up and cheers whenever I'm to give a speech. The usual."
Richard shrugged off the serious tone and waggled his eyebrows at his cousin. "But then again, someone from the War Office has been sniffing around. Can you see your old cousin Richard in military intelligence?" Darcy laughed but there was an edge of worry in his eye. Not wanting to deal with his cousin's concerns that night, Richard herded them both off to bed.
Will awoke gradually the next morning feeling warm and fuzzy. He couldn't quite remember how he had made it to his bed, but his aching head was enough to remind him vaguely of the evening before. Then the sun peaked from between the drapes and sent bolts of pain into his skull.
"When will I learn? Never, never drink with Richard." He moaned. Fortunately, his valet had preceded him and there was already a glass of water and a packet of headache powder on the bedside table. "Thank you, Hawkins." Will mumbled even though the man wasn't present, knowing his master preferred a bit of solitude on such mornings and would ring when he was ready to be shaved.
Will forced himself to sit up and, leaning against the headboard, drank the concoction. After several minutes he began to feel more like himself and ventured to open his eyes again. Almost immediately he made the embarrassing observation that, although he did have his nightshirt on, it had been pushed up above his waist while he slept and he had spent the night wrapped around one of the large pillows that his head normally laid on.
Added to this were several other observations equally mortifying. Bits of a dream came back to him, remarkable in its vividness and, glancing down at the pillow that was still resting by his knee, he noted a damp stain that was no doubt the cause (or rather, the result) of his warm and fuzzy feeling.
Darcy groaned and slumped back down onto his (clean) pillow. He hadn't lost control of himself in such a way since adolescence. What was happening to him? And yet, he could already feel himself stiffening again as he remembered the dream of Elizabeth.
He had been riding through a meadow and fallen. Elizabeth, with her sparkling eyes and amused expression had come upon him and helped him up. With his arms around her shoulders and her hands at his waist, he had barely made it to a standing position when he had seen Elizabeth's expression change. Turning, he had been confronted with George Wickham in full regimentals, charging at them with a bayonet. Without a thought, Darcy had pulled a small pistol from his pocket and shot Wickham in the heart. Elizabeth had been grateful and appreciative… and they had made love there, in the sunny meadow, for hours.
William groaned again and, after retrieving an old handkerchief from his nightstand, covered his eyes with his arm and went about relieving a most painful erection.
When he finally made it downstairs, he was irritated to see Richard already seated, attacking a mound of eggs, bacon, and toast as though it were any other day. His uniform looked clean and pressed and his boots were polished to such a sheen that Darcy thought he might get another headache from their sparkle.
Selecting some dry toast and a large mug of coffee, Will seated himself with only a mild glare at his cousin. Richard chuckled. "Ah, civilians. Forgot you were such a lightweight, Wills, my boy. I should have cut you off earlier."
Unable to come up with anything suitably abusive, Darcy responded with only a grunt.
Finishing his plate, Richard watched his cousin carefully for several minutes before speaking. "Well. Are we still going to this wedding?" At Darcy's short nod, he continued. "Capital, capital. If we leave at eleven we should get there in plenty of time to get good seats for the performance."
Darcy rolled his eyes but remained silent. Putting his napkin aside and standing, Richard chose his words carefully. "You are still coming to Mother's dinner party tomorrow evening, yes? It should be fairly small--just the family, more or less. I spoke with Georgie at breakfast and she seemed eager to attend." He did not repeat what else his youngest cousin had said about how little she had seen her brother in the weeks since his return from Kent.
When William shrugged and mumbled affirmatively but did not appear to note the mild reproof, the Colonel squared his shoulders and allowed the force of command to trickle into his voice.
"And Darcy. If you plan to continue ignoring your sister as you have lately, I shall be forced to take her to stay with Mother." Richard was pleased to see Darcy's head jerk up from his coffee and his eyes focus on Richard's face. "She is lonely and miserable; she believes that you are still angry and disappointed with her because of the Ramsgate affair. She is worrying herself sick and I will not stand by if you continue to mistreat her as you have been."
Satisfied by the stunned look on his cousin's face that he had gotten his point across, Richard moved to the door. Before leaving, he couldn't resist one last zinger. "You should introduce Georgie to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is just the sort of young lady who could help our girl build up the confidence to face Society." And with that, he ducked out the door and chuckled all the way up to his room.
When the two men met again at the front door, Richard was pleased to see his cousin looking better. Darcy was still very quiet as they traveled to the church, but it was a thoughtful silence rather than the melancholy of before. After the service, Darcy declined the invitation to the wedding feast and farewelled his family. Richard helped his mother into the Fitzwilliam carriage and, just before entering himself, glanced down the street. He was pleased to see Darcy wave off his own carriage and begin walking east along Cannon Street.
In truth, Darcy had been struck by the words of the wedding vows as much as those of his cousin.
I, John, take thee, Cecily, to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance.
Only the Christian names were used, emphasizing the union between those two individuals before God. Marriage was meant to bond a man and woman in mutual support, through good times and bad, for life; not just for the acquisition of wealth for already rich families. In considering the words, Will was finally struck by how right Elizabeth had been to reject him. He might love her, but he had not demonstrated that he cherished her; he had not even considered her need to be respected as well as adored.
Darcy sent his carriage ahead, telling the driver to meet him in two hours at Wren's monument to the Great Fire. He took a circuitous route that eventually had him walking south along Gracechurch Street. He did not see Elizabeth but he did note that the neighborhood was perfectly respectable. Though the houses were not as large as his own dwelling on Grosvenor Square, they were clean and well-kept and the neighborhood had a sense of vitality. Children played in a small public park, nurses pushed prams along the walk and a well-dressed young man was expounding his philosophy to a group of listeners in a speaker's corner.
That evening, William made a point of dining with his sister and then joining her in the music room where she exhibited a new piece on the pianoforte. He was still quiet and thoughtful, but Georgie was somewhat comforted by Richard's reassurances that her brother's behavior did not reflect some error of hers. It was a beginning.
Chapter 7. Darcy's Revelations.
Posted on 2010-06-24
May 1818
Two days after his conversation with Richard, Darcy attended a dinner party at the Earl of Matlock's London home. William's Aunt Eleanor was one of the most revered hostesses in London Society and he was looking forward to an enjoyable evening. On this occasion, five of the six Fitzwilliam offspring would be in attendance and so Darcy arrived early with Georgiana, hoping to spend some pleasant time with their extended family.
Instead, he was treated to several adult Fitzwilliam siblings bickering like spoilt children, the Earl sitting by the fire with his daughter's father-in-law making fun of their offspring (the two had started drinking before lunch at their club and were already well-sauced), and his normally imperturbable aunt standing in the hall screaming at a maid and the housekeeper.
Later, when the men gathered for port after supper, Richard's elder brother asked about their visit to the "Kentish witch." For nearly twenty minutes, Edward, Richard, and their father argued over appropriate nicknames for Lady Catherine-- the Battle-ax was finally voted most popular, although Harridan, Gorgon and Medusa were close seconds. Darcy stood by the fireplace cringing as three of his closest male kinsmen loudly disparaged their relation as entertainment for the other guests.
When the men finally returned to the ladies in the drawing room, Lady Lucy, the youngest of the Fitzwilliam clan, jumped up to greet her favorite brother. "Richard, you will never guess what we've just heard! It's just the funniest thing. You remember Lady Mayberry? The Earl of Malmesbury's eldest daughter? Nasty freckled thing, but with such a dowry and connections that she's considered the greatest beauty of the season."
Richard chuckled. "Would this be the lady with the… distinctive laugh?"
"Like a horse!" Lady Ellen contributed.
Lucy bounced and clapped her hands in glee. "The very one! Well, Lady Sackett says that…"
Darcy closed his eyes and sighed, trying to block out the story which appeared to involve the Earl's young daughter drinking too much rum punch at a ball and then loudly demanding that the orchestra play a waltz-- a scandalous dance certainly innappropriate for a debutante-- while neither of her parents did anything to check her behavior. Darcy sighed again and looked to his sister. Georgiana was sitting next to her Aunt Eleanor, looking as if she wished she could hide behind the sofa or, barring that, at least plug her ears.
After some minutes, Darcy decided that there did not seem to be much hope of his own family providing him with evidence to support his predetermined superiority over the Bennets, so he stood and made his way to Georgiana's side.
Leaning over her shoulder, he asked quietly "Georgie? Are you ready to return home?" His sister had not the courage to whisper a single word, but relief left her eyes shiny with unshed tears. After performing his goodbyes and deflecting some off-colour remarks by his Cousin Edward (now well in his cups) regarding Darcy's plans for later in the night, he was enormously relieved to take Georgie's hand and depart.
As the Darcy siblings walked across the square to their own house, he pondered whether the Fitzwilliams had always been so rowdy or if he had simply not noticed it. He was rather relieved to drop this line of introspection when he felt his sister's small, gloved hand squeeze his arm slightly.
"Brother?" Asked a whispery voice.
"Yes Georgie? Did you enjoy the evening?" Darcy asked, concerned. His sister only addressed him as "brother" when she was deeply agonized.
"Oh… yes. It is so… lively when all of our cousins are there. I used to think it was the holiday spirit when we went to Matlock for Christmas and it seemed so much more… jolly … than Pemberley, but it isn't that, is it? It's just a big, happy family that loves each other."
"Loves each other, warts and all." Murmured Darcy, half to himself.
Georgiana giggled softly, thinking that he was referring to the discussion of nicknames for their Aunt Catherine.
As the two climbed the front steps of their own house, he bent and lightly kissed his little sister on the top of her head. "Well poppet, what shall it be? Shall we go bang the keys in the music room, or perhaps go sliding around in our stocking feet in the ball room?"
"Oh William, you would never do such things. I know you must be tired and have business to attend to. Do you have time to take breakfast with me?" Georgiana was handing her coat to the butler and peeked up at her brother for just a moment, but in that instant he was staggered by how eager his sister was for just a few minutes of his time.
"Yes, of course. Breakfast at eight?" He was able to respond.
"Oh yes! Thank you, Brother."
"It would be an honor and a pleasure." He replied solemnly with a deep bow. Then more softly. "Good night, Georgie. Sweet dreams."
"Good night, Wills."
As Georgiana climbed the stairs to her apartment, Darcy watched her for a moment, then dismissed the servants for the night and made his way to the library. After pouring himself a glass of wine (he was off brandy since the evening with Richard), Will settled into the large wing chair with his feet stretched out to the fire. He felt off balance.
Looking into his sister's eyes that evening, William had seen a flicker of emotion that his own heart easily recognized--loneliness. He took a sip of the wine and considered it. He worked hard to make sure that Georgiana had all the accoutrements appropriate for a young lady of her station. He had conferred with his aunts and female cousins regarding masters and schools, dress makers and dance instructors. But what were those but things?
Who did his sister spend time with? Paid companions? Their cousins were kind to her, but even the youngest Fitzwilliam cousin was almost a decade older. He knew Georgie occasionally had callers for tea, but they were almost universally ladies like Miss Bingley who were trying to capture his attention by ingratiating themselves with his sister.
Darcy groaned, took another sip from his glass and toed off his shoes. What friends had he had when he was sixteen? Within two years of his mother's death, he had been sent off to school and his overarching memory was of deep, aching homesickness for Pemberley. But when he thought more carefully, he realized that that was where he had met Bingley and his other friends. He had been involved in various clubs--fencing, rowing, chess-- and they had given him a sense of tribe. How did young ladies make friends? He wondered. Exchange embroidery secrets?
Darcy sighed again and wiggled his stockinged toes in the firelight. If Elizabeth were here, she would have taken his notion and jollied him and Georgie to slide around the slick floor of the ballroom in their stockings. He could almost hear her laughter, like the peal of silver bells. A sudden pain wracked his heart and he clenched his jaw. She had refused him. She would never meet Georgiana and help her learn to laugh again. They would never sit by the fire after an evening out and chat over impressions of the other guests. He must overcome this!
Yet, when Fitzwilliam Darcy took the last sip from his glass and rested his head back into the cushions, it was but a moment before he was immersed in another daydream of Elizabeth. Over the last six months, he had dreamt that he had seduced her, that she had seduced him, that they had danced together, and that they had made love in a distant sunny meadow at Pemberley, but this dream was altogether new.
That evening, in his exhaustion and loneliness, he dreamt that Elizabeth welcomed him into the bosom of her family. He dreamt that Georgiana sat on the sofa in the Longbourn drawing room between Jane and Catherine Bennet, glowing with happiness while Mrs. Bennet bustled around mothering her. He dreamt of himself on the other side of the room, playing chess with Mr. Bennet while debating philosophy and trading witticisms with him and his second daughter. He dreamt of being happy.
The next morning, it was only the deeply ingrained habit of rising with the sun that had Darcy leaving the warm cocoon of his bed in time to dress and meet his sister for breakfast. He found her in the family dining room, already drinking her tea. After their greetings, he filled his own plate and cup from the buffet laid out on a sideboard and sat down at the small table.
The siblings ate quietly for some minutes, the only sound being the clink of silver on china. Once he had eaten his fill, Darcy refilled his teacup and sipped thoughtfully, observing his sister out of the corner of his eye. She had been upset the previous evening and he sensed that the tension remained this morning. After his contemplations the night before, he had resolved to encourage his sister to open up to him; he would try to aid her in making her own resolution rather than making the decision for her, as was his habit. He could almost imagine Elizabeth's whisper in his ear, encouraging him to treat Georgiana as the young lady she was growing into rather than the baby sister he still saw in his mind's eye.
Seeing that his sister seemed stymied at how to begin, he again consulted his imaginary Elizabeth. She rolled her eyes, arched her brow, and reminded him to take the trouble of practicing his conversational skills. Taking another sip of his tea, he thought for a moment and then spoke.
"I don't know if you remember, Georgie, but this breakfast room was the first thing I feel I did on my own after Father's death… For so long I was trying to do what I thought he would have done… to maintain things just as they were. Then one morning, I sat down in the large dining room and was struck by how ridiculous all the formality was for just the two of us."
Georgiana smiled softly. "I remember. The footman always served me too much porridge, but I felt like he was watching me eat and would be angry if I didn't finish it all."
Will smiled back. "There were more servants than Darcys in the room. And that was before we installed the dumbwaiter so they were always rushing in and out to the kitchen to keep the food warm. Although I think the overabundance of porridge is a right of passage; I remember Mrs. Reynolds pressing large bowls of it on me as well. Perhaps someday we will do the same to our own children."
A sad look flickered across Georgie's face and her eyes dropped to her hands. Unsure of what had affected her, Will forged ahead. "I went looking to find a new family breakfast room that very morning. This room was decorated as a sort of small sitting room but hadn't been used for as long as I can remember because of its placement at the back of the house. It was very dark for most of the day and the decoration didn't help much--dark greens and greys and heavy oak furniture. But it looked out over the garden and once we removed the heavy drapery, the morning sun lit it up. Do you remember helping me pick the yellow paper for the walls?"
Georgie smiled faintly at him in response but her brother could tell that her heart wasn't in it. He remained quiet for a moment, hoping that she would speak her mind.
"Brother? I wanted to talk to you… I… Oh Wills, must I have my debut next year?" Her eyes were glassy with tears.
Will turned in his chair and took his sister's hands in his. "Of course not, dearest; not if it causes you so much anxiety. I would never force you to do something that upsets you so. But Georgie, it is months away. Why are you suddenly so worried about it now?"
For some moments, Darcy worried that his sister's behavior was a new symptom of continuing self-hatred over her near elopement with Wickham, but Georgiana's next words reassured him otherwise.
The Lady Mayberry dissected by the Fitzwilliams on the previous evening had been a school friend of Georgie's. They were the same age and had shared a love of music and a dislike of French grammar. They had shared their dreams of coming out, being presented to the Queen, imagining it would be like a fairy tale with themselves the beautiful, poised ladies, each with a cadre of handsome, charming gentlemen begging to dance the night away. Hearing her dear friend dissected and sneered at by her own family, to the amusement of guests no less, left Georgiana in tears and desperate to avoid similar attentions.
Darcy was able to reassure his sister somewhat, but he again felt his imaginary Elizabeth nudging him to go further. "Georgie… I know that we tend to focus on the great responsibility that our family and connections demand… our place in society and so forth. But it was recently pointed out to me that such things are not what is truly important. Our principles--how we treat others, how we live our lives is what matters, not our attendance at high society events or knowledge of gossip. Our wealth gives us the options to live as we wish."
William paused, rather surprised by his own speech. Georgiana, on the other hand, was fascinated. Her elder brother usually treated her almost as a father; he had never shared so much of his inner feelings.
"But Wills, you go to so many balls and parties, even though they make you miserable."
Brother and sister shared a fond smile; she had heard him teased by their cousins over his lack of enthusiasm for such social events all too often. Darcy was tempted to shrug off her question, but realized that he owed her (and perhaps himself) a truthful answer.
"My first impulse is to say that I attend because it is what Society expects of me--a gentleman of my position. But in truth, I think it is also a way for me to escape being alone… which is ironic given that the moment I enter a ball I am determined to disapprove of everyone and everything around me." Darcy sighed, looking into the distance. "It was easier in school… between classes and study groups and sports, making friends and having things to talk about was much simpler."
He looked over to Georgiana's wide eyes. "That's why I sent you to school, you know. I was overwhelmed trying to manage Pemberley and I didn't want you to be lonely, but I had absolutely no idea how to introduce you to other girls of your own age."
For the first time in her life, Georgie saw her brother as a young man, saddled with immense responsibilities at a young age. He tried very, very hard but he was not omniscient. "I may not have seemed happy at school, but I am glad I went. I still correspond with many of the girls that I made friends with there. It was the right decision."
Darcy considered her for a moment. The only ladies he ever saw visit Georgie were those of the Miss Bingley variety, attempting to curry favour with him by befriending his sister. "Are any of your friends in London? Do you visit with them?"
The pink in his sister's cheeks led him to believe that her shyness prevented such invitations, but her next words contradicted this conclusion.
"I would not… that is… Aunt Catherine…" She trailed off.
"What on Earth does Aunt Catherine have to do with it?" Darcy demanded, but instantly realized that his forceful manner was not helpful in encouraging confidences from his timid sister.
"Georgie, dearest, I apologize for my tone." He tried again. "You know my opinion of our most revered Aunt's advice." This drew a matching conspiratorial smile.
"Aunt Catherine told me that I must not invite any unmarried ladies to the house until you and Cousin Anne were wed, because they might trick you into marriage." She summarized weakly.
Will slumped back into his chair with a groan and such a petulant look that Georgie couldn't help but giggle. He looked up at her and managed a weak grin.
"My dear sister, Lady Catherine De Bourgh is our mother's sister and, as an elder relation, deserves our respect. However…" Will smirked. "She has no sense and even less knowledge of the real world. She has isolated herself at Rosings, established total dominion there, and assumes that her power extends all the way to London and Derbyshire. Treat her respectfully, but under no circumstances are you to do what she says… unless by some accident she stumbles onto something sensible, of course." He ended in a rush and was happy to see his sister smiling brightly.
"Georgiana, this is your home as well as mine, regardless of whether I am single or married. As a single lady, you should have someone with you if you entertain gentlemen callers…" He smiled when Georgie blushed, pleased that his tease was successful. "But you should feel free to invite female friends to visit at any time… although I would appreciate some warning so that they don't catch me wandering about in my robe and stocking feet."
The siblings grinned at each other and Georgiana suddenly jumped up and threw her arms around her brother. "Oh Wills, it is so good to really talk to you!" As he hugged his sister, Darcy felt his imaginary Elizabeth smile at him proudly. She was right--it helped to talk.
The moment ended, as such moments do, and Georgiana moved back to her own chair after freshening both of their teacups. She ventured a look at her brother who was sipping his tea while staring vacantly out of the window. He had a soft look on his face and she decided to venture a personal question.
"Wills? Are you going to marry Cousin Anne?" She asked softly.
Darcy had been contemplating a pleasant vision of Elizabeth sitting with them at the sunny breakfast table and was shocked out of his daydream into near incivility. "No! Absolutely not!" Seeing his sister's small smile, he added more quietly. "Another example of why you should never listen to Aunt Catherine."
"Is there someone else?" Seeing her brother's disoriented look, she added hurriedly. "It is just that… Miss Bingley is always speaking of you as though…" She trailed off at her brother's horrified look.
"Good God, no! Again, absolutely not. I would rather remain a bachelor all of my life than have to share it with the likes of Caroline Bingley!" He paused. "Does she actually say such things to you, Georgie?"
"Not exactly. But the ladies who visit me… Well, you are their favorite topic of conversation. I am careful not to gossip, but it's so hard to get them to speak of anything else, other than the need for new decorations here and at Pemberley, of course."
To say that Darcy was embarrassed was an understatement, but he rapidly moved on to sympathy for his sister. "Oh poppet, I'm so sorry." He looked her in the eye. "You do not need to accept such visitors. I know that my friendship with Charles gives Miss Bingley the opportunity to insinuate herself, but I will not be offended if you keep her at arm's length… and nor would Charles, for that matter."
Seeing the relief in his sister's face, he continued. "You should invite your own friends to visit; young ladies who share your interests. You are an intelligent, sensible girl and you should not be restricted to spending time with the worst that our society has to offer." He was just thinking of how much he would have liked to encourage a friendship between Georgie and the eldest Bennet sisters when he realized that her smile had melted to tears.
"But Wills… I don't! I don't have any sense at all... I was completely misled by Mrs. Younge and Mr. Wickham. If you hadn't come to Ramsgate in time…"
Darcy felt the familiar flash of anger toward Wickham, but this time it was tempered by the knowledge that he needed to comfort his sister rather than give in to his own hurt pride over not protecting his sister. He moved to kneel by her chair and took her hands in his own.
"Georgiana, listen to me. You were the victim of two experienced manipulators. You were assured by me that you could trust your companion, and I failed in my duty there. I should have checked Mrs. Younge's background more carefully. She had good references but I found out later that they were acquired through blackmail and other nefarious schemes. And Wickham…" Darcy rocked back on his heels and rubbed a hand through his hair.
"He and I… he was my playmate when we were boys, but even then I think I was aware of his lack of… morals. He was always plotting or sneaking, and he felt no guilt if the blame fell on someone else." William felt his throat tighten but forced himself to continue.
"I remember once when I was eight and he was ten, he boasted to me about sneaking into the orchard to pick some early cherries. He nearly got caught but somehow managed to shift blame onto one of the tenant's sons." He drew a breath. "George thought it was funny that the boy received a whipping for thievery he did not commit."
"Oh Wills… What did you do?"
"I went to Father. He… he didn't put much credence in the story of an eight-year-old."
"Oh Wills…" Darcy shrugged his shoulders and continued.
"George's manners around our father were always very engaging... He was always careful to maintain his high opinion." Will glanced to his sister. "Do you remember Mrs. Wickham at all? I sometimes think that she coached her son from his earliest days to insinuate himself with Father; pushing "dear Mr. Darcy" to do this or that for his Godson… Well, regardless, George could not hide his want of principles from another boy with whom he spent so much unguarded time. By the time we were at university, he stopped bothering with even the pretence of hiding his immoral tendencies from me."
Darcy hesitated again, but glancing up at his sister, he reminded himself that her best protection was in knowing the truth. "He drank and gambled… ignored his studies whenever he could charm his tutor or another student into doing his work. He… he frequented prostitutes… and he would boast of seducing other men's wives."
Hearing his sister's sharp intake of breath, he looked up at her widened eyes. "Ignorant as you previously were of everything, detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination. I wish I could protect you from knowing such things, Georgiana, but… well, I've learned recently how important knowing the truth is for a woman to protect herself. Just because Father wouldn't listen to me, doesn't mean that no one else will."
Her brother sighed and stared into the distance while Georgiana thought over his words. "Wills? Have you seen George Wickham since Ramsgate? I wonder where he is, sometimes. I… I dread that I might meet him on the street some day…"
"Georgie--if you ever see that blackguard again, you are to tell me immediately. Or Richard. Wickham knows that he is never to come near you again; if he does, we will take care of him once and for all."
"But Brother, I don't want to lose you or Richard to a duel… or to prison for murder!"
Seeing how distraught his sister had become with worry over her guardians, Will took a deep breath and heaved himself up off the floor, seating himself back in his chair. He needed to reassure her, he reminded himself, not rant on like some irresponsible youth ready to fling himself into battle like a knight-errant welcoming death. He purposefully lightened his tone.
"It would not come to that, my dear. You see, George has done something very stupid; He has entered the militia as a lieutenant. He is currently stationed in Hertfordshire under the command of one Colonel Forster, who happens to be well-known to our own Colonel Fitzwilliam."
Pleased to see his sister relax a bit and even smile slightly, Darcy continued. "Lieutenant Wickham is now subject to military regulations and punishments and, as you know, Richard is in a position to make certain that they are enforced."
Georgie clapped her hands together in a mixture of happiness and relief. "So he can never do this to any other girl?" She was surprised to see her brother's face fall. "Wills? Has he hurt someone already? Is it someone we know?"
"I don't think he managed a seduction… she is too intelligent and upstanding to fall for that… but he certainly managed to turn her head… and whisper enough lies in her ear that she quite despised me…" This last was said quietly, almost to himself as his memory spun him back to Elizabeth's rejection that evening at the Hunsford parsonage.
"Wills?" His sister's questioning voice brought him back to the present. He hesitated for a moment, and then decided that just as he knew all the details of her failed romance, she deserved to know of his heartbreak. He sighed and stared into his empty teacup.
"Last fall, while you were staying with our Aunt and Uncle at Matlock, you know that I spent some time in the country with Charles Bingley, helping him learn to run the estate he has leased."
"It was in Hertfordshire!" Said his sister with growing concern. "Is that how you found out that Mr. Wickham was in the militia?"
"Yes, although he was careful to avoid me once he realized I was in the neighborhood. He had no compunction about spreading rumors behind my back, though." Darcy was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts, until he noticed his sister's ashen face.
"No! Not about you, dearest… He said nothing about you. You must understand--his resentment, his desire for revenge, it is all focused on me. He worked very hard to maintain Father's high opinion, but it was all swept aside upon his death because I was the heir and George could not fool me. Wickham resents my birthright and looks for any way to take his revenge. At Ramsgate, his chief object was unquestionably your fortune, but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement."
Georgie had relaxed somewhat over his words, but remained concerned. "But Wills… What lies did he spread? And why would anyone believe them of you?"
Darcy sighed. Would his sister's good opinion of him survive the story of his so-called courtship of Elizabeth Bennet?
"That, my dear, is quite a long story, which I will tell you if you truly wish to hear it. However, may I suggest that we move to the library so that the maids may begin clearing the breakfast dishes?" Upon gaining his sister's agreement, he offered his arm and the two Darcys walked quietly through the halls of their big, empty house, feeling for once that it was a little less lonely.
As they settled into the comfortable chairs on either side of the fireplace, Darcy was wondering where to begin and how much to tell when Georgiana spoke. "Was it Miss Bennet?" Seeing the look of shock on her brother's face, she gathered her courage to continue. "You spoke of Miss Elizabeth Bennet often in your letters from Hertfordshire and then from Kent, yet you haven't mentioned her once since you returned from Rosings. Was she the lady who believed Wickham's lies?"
To say that Darcy was surprised was an understatement. Thinking that Richard might have been talking out of turn, he queried. "How do you know about Miss Bennet?"
Georgiana stifled a giggle. Her Aunt Eleanor was right--sometimes men were completely obtuse. Her brother really had no idea how often he spoke of the lady. "From your letters, Wills. And you mentioned her several times over Christmas." Seeing that her brother still looked perplexed, she explained further. "Usually when you mention ladies, it is in such an ironic tone that I can almost see them fussing over you."
She mimicked his deep voice. "Miss Bingley bids me send her greetings, as she cannot be bothered to write herself, and hopes to exchange table designs or some such nonsense when next she hunts you to ground in London."
Darcy was amused to see his sister mimic him and waved his hands in mock defeat.
Encouraged, Georgiana continued. "With Miss Bennet, it was different. You spoke of her preference for Milton over cards and how shocked Mr. Hurst was. And of how she loves to walk and appreciates nature… and how she beat Mr. Bingley at chess!" Seeing her brother had a soft smile on his face at this recitation of memories, Georgiana decided to take a chance. "Might I meet her? She sounds wonderful." She started at the flash of pain that ripped across her brother's face. "Oh Wills, what have I said? I am so sorry! What hurts you so?"
Darcy looked down into his sister's face where she had come to kneel at his feet. Her eyes, so like their mother's, were full of concern and compassion. He squeezed her hands in reassurance. "Miss Elizabeth is all that is lovely… and kind… and I don't know that either of us will ever have the opportunity of meeting her again."
He sighed deeply. "Georgie, you might as well know that your big brother is an arrogant dunderhead."
Seeing that her brother had recovered somewhat, Georgiana stood and, mimicking the stance and tone so often taken by their cousin the Colonel, she said. "I shall be the judge of that, Sir! The facts, if you please… leaving nothing out or there will be a cross-examination!" She then sat down in the comfortable armchair and, toeing off her slippers, tucked her feet up under her skirts.
Unable to do anything but laugh, Darcy gave her a mock salute from his chair and began his side of the story.
Chapter 8. His Side of the Story.
Posted on 2010-07-01
Fitzwilliam Darcy had never been a lady's man. He had adored his mother before her death and still thought of her with a wistful longing. He had felt an intense, protective love for Georgiana since she had been placed in his arms as a newborn on his tenth birthday.
As a child, he had been an odd combination of bookish yet athletic. He and his cousins had spent hours racing their horses and exploring the peaks and woods around Pemberley and Matlock, pretending that they were explorers discovering new continents or scaling the impossibly high mountains of India. His time at Eton and later Cambridge had been spent in similar masculine company. He had divided his time between his solitary studies, his bookish, intellectual friends debating philosophy and playing chess, and athletic compatriots serious in their training for various sports.
William knew that most young men spent time during their university years practicing other sport with the local ladies, but he had steadfastly avoided such outings. In hindsight, he recognized that this was due in no small part to his disgust with the antics Wickham often boasted of when that man returned to their shared rooms in the wee small hours of the mornings, in addition to the near constant teasing by his boyhood playmate over Darcy's prudery.
In the privacy of his own mind, Darcy knew that he had been tempted like any other young man, but his childhood in the idyllic wilds of Derbyshire left him with a greater desire to mimic Malory's King Arthur than Radcliffe's Signor Montoni. The fundamental problem was that this childhood had left him singularly inept at understanding women.
He was a good dancer--it was much like the intricate footwork of fencing--but he was uncomfortable with the feeling of being on display. This had become worse after his father passed away and he had inherited sole control of the Darcy family's vast wealth, properties and connections. He knew the rules of his society--what constituted "too much" interest in a lady, how to avoid being tricked into a compromising situation, and so forth. Unlike many of the gentlemen he knew who regarded it as a great game of sorts, Darcy was left with a fundamental distrust of Society in general and Society ladies in particular.
Darcy's years of schooling had not prepared him to converse easily with strange ladies. He could not catch their tone of conversation or appear interested in their concerns, as he saw other men do. He could debate Socrates with Oxford dons, converse easily on the literary allegories of Moliére, discuss the socioeconomic impacts of current military policies with members of Parliament, and talk about sheep breeding with a tenant farmer, but he had not a clue as to how (or why) to appear interested in the newest fashion in the sleeve length of ball gowns or the latest lace pattern from Belgium. He despised gossip of all sorts and, perhaps worst of all, the subtle flick of fans and eyelashes that ladies used to convey their interest was as obscure a language as Mandarin to him.
In short, the advance of a flirtatious lady created in William the desperate urge to flee. The knowledge that a gentleman, and particularly a Darcy, must not run from a drawing room like a frightened fawn when faced with an approaching matron and her unmarried daughter was deeply ingrained, so Darcy had developed a mask, locking himself in place and speaking as little as possible until he could politely excuse himself.
It was not until Elizabeth Bennet had admonished him in her delightfully arch manner that it occurred to Darcy that by participating in a conversation and introducing topics he found interesting, such interactions with strangers might be tolerable, and possibly even enjoyable. He might even discover new people with whom he wished to further an acquaintance!
Elizabeth Bennet. He remembered the first time he had seen her. Walking into the Meryton assembly, he had immediately stiffened as a sea of strangers' eyes turned to study him. In truth, he had spent the first half hour fighting his every instinct to sprint from the country inn's great room as beady eyes followed him around the room and he caught whispers of his name and estimates of his wealth from behind fans. He vaguely remembered being introduced to some of the locals but, although his habitual manners had him bow and nod at the appropriate moments, he recalled neither face nor name.
Finally Darcy was able to retreat to a corner, behind some half-drunk, elderly gentlemen who were deep in a discussion of horse racing and paid him no attention. William took several deep breaths, discretely wiped his sweating palms on his coat tails and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to release some of the tension that locked his neck. He was a Darcy, he berated himself, and a Darcy had no reason to fear a roomful of strangers. Countrified rustics! He sneered to himself. Not one with any connections. Even the Bingleys and Hursts were well below him in Society, for all of Miss Bingley's pretensions.
Darcy's thoughts continued in this vein for some minutes, reassuring himself of his own superiority in order to break through his overwhelming shyness. As his emotions settled, he began to notice faces and individuals. The ladies of his own party swept by, Mrs. Hurst dancing with her husband and Miss Bingley with one of the local gentlemen--a Mr. Goulding, Darcy remembered. Both ladies wore an overabundance of jewels, lace, and feathers in an obvious effort to assert their superiority over the local populace. Bingley appeared as the dancers moved through their forms. Will smirked to himself--Charles had, as always, immediately gained the hand of the prettiest girl in the room.
The dance ended and Bingley led the blond lady to a younger girl sitting along the wall from Darcy's corner. Their interaction suggested that they were close relatives, but the two could not have been more different in appearance. Where Bingley's partner was a classic beauty with her symmetrical figure and serene visage, the younger girl was plump, spotted, and slumped over what Darcy supposed was a pocket novel, removing her spectacles only when her sister addressed her.
At that moment, the horse-obsessed gentlemen screening Darcy moved away and Bingley's face brightened at the sight of his friend.
In short order, Charles and his enthusiasm had invaded Darcy's quiet corner. "Come Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."
Darcy very nearly groaned aloud. He had only just barely regained his equilibrium. Dancing with some unknown lady with whom he had nothing in common could only constitute the worst of tortures.
"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged at present, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with." There! Will thought to himself. If that won't make Charles back off, nothing will.
"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Bingley, "for a kingdom! Upon my honour I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty." His eyes had drifted back to the blonde he had last partnered.
Darcy allowed himself a smile. It was good to see Charles happy again. The death of his parents and elder brother in a carriage accident several years prior had deposited a heavy load of unexpected responsibility on his younger friend's shoulders.
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room." Said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.
"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."
Without bothering to look, Darcy assumed that Bingley was indicating the unappealing creature seated by Miss Bennet, which fired a spark of indignation within his ego. He might not wish to dance, but he was distinctly irked that Bingley would push him toward such an unattractive girl when he himself was dancing with such a beauty.
Darcy replied coldly, "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had much better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."
Recognizing that his old friend's foul mood was unlikely to be worked around, Mr. Bingley followed the advice and moved off to greet a local squire and his wife. Darcy was given but a minute to fume over the perceived insult to himself when the rustle of skirts alerted him to a presence moving in from the balcony just beyond his corner. Then all thought was driven from his mind as a pair of sparkling eyes laughed up at him from beneath long, curled lashes. Darcy was left breathing in the faint scent of lavender and gazing at dark chestnut curls bouncing above a slender neck and an elegantly simple rose-coloured gown, accenting fair skin and an exceptionally appealing figure. Darcy gulped air and very nearly followed in her wake like a puppy.
Locking his feet in place, Will could not stop his eyes following the lady as she moved through the room. She greeted a plain-faced young woman--one of the Lucas offspring, Darcy remembered vaguely--with the familiarity of an old friend, and the pair was joined by Bingley's partner. With sparkling eyes and expressive hands, she pantomimed a story at the end of which, three pairs of female eyes turned to stare directly at Darcy, making little effort to hide their giggles. In an instant of mortifying clarity, he realized that this intriguing beauty was the sister Bingley had recommended to him as a dance partner, and that she had heard every word of his insufferably rude rebuttal.
Darcy had once had the opportunity to stand upon a stage where university friends were rehearsing a student production of King Lear. He had been shown the clever trapdoor in the stage floor that allowed one of the actors to seemingly disappear into thin air during the production. Now, in this moment of personal horror at a country assembly in Hertfordshire, he wondered inconsequently why ballroom floors were not equipped similarly with escape hatches for gentlemen who needed a bit of privacy in which to remove foot from mouth. What irony was it that he had finally noticed a lady whose features and manner attracted him, but whom he had managed to insult in such a way as to make him appear worse than ridiculous?
He had thought things could not possibly get worse when a set of talons raked his back before settling around his arm like a pair of iron shackles. "Oh, Mr. Darcy. What was my brother thinking to drag us to this backwater? I am certain that we shall all catch some horrible disease." Somehow, even at a whisper, Caroline Bingley's voice had an irritating shrillness to it.
When the object of her attentions did not respond, Caroline felt this was reasonable encouragement to continue. "I have never seen anything so ridiculous; all these countrified rustics prancing about as if they were the height of Society. And the fashion! I have seen sleeves two years out of date, at least!"
It was only with the greatest of effort that Darcy managed to control a noise that saw both snort and sneeze, the latter derived from the tickle of three-foot long feathers that drooped from his unwanted companion's turban. He desperately hoped that the feathers had been dyed, for it did not bear considering that such a violent hue of orange might exist in nature.
"… cannot imagine what other so-called amusements these people shall force upon us. Perhaps a costume party for their swine?"
This time, Darcy could not control the slight twitch of his lips, though not for a reason that would have pleased Miss Bingley. Once when he was about twelve, he had visited his Uncle James, an odd character to be sure, but always great fun. After securing an earnest promise that Will would never tell his father, Uncle James had spirited him off to a country fair on the edge of London where one of the events had indeed been a porcine costume contest. There had been ballerina pigs, bird pigs (complete with wings), court jester pigs, and William's personal favorite, a particularly large Chester White transformed into a fire-breathing dragon.
"… give to hear your strictures on them!" Caroline finally stopped to take a breath, causing Darcy to remember his position. Luckily for him, though he might not know how to deal with pretty country misses with sparkling eyes who laughed at him (Laughed at him!), he was well practiced at dealing with the likes of Miss Bingley.
"Miss Bingley, you appear to be upset. Allow me to fetch you a glass of punch." With the ease of long practice, he turned toward Miss Bingley so that she was forced to break her clench on his arm and he could move to the refreshment table. There, he proceeded to fill a cup with punch and place a few biscuits on a plate. Handing both to Miss Bingley (it was important to fill both of her hands so that she could not resume her possessive grip on his arm), he motioned to Mrs. Hurst who had just finished a dance.
"I am sure that you will wish to speak with your sister. If you will excuse me, there is something I must see to." And with that, he made his escape. Unfortunately, his pleasure over a successful disentanglement was punctured when he noticed that he was being laughed at again.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet, (currently known to Darcy only as the pretty country miss with sparkling eyes who laughed at him (!!!)), had noticed the one-sided conversation. While she harbored no friendly feelings toward the gentleman, she could certainly recognize an aggressive husband-hunter and a most unhappy target. While Miss Bennet continued her dance with her pleasant but dull partner, she considered how best to tell her father of the amusing portrait formed by Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley. Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy very nearly whimpered to himself before turning desperate eyes around the room for a safe potted plant behind which he might hide for the remainder of the evening.
Months later, William found that his melancholy was lightened immeasurably by telling the story to Georgiana. Even when she laughed, the soft light in her eye soothed some of his pain. To his surprise, he found himself telling her of his failed marriage proposal. When he finished, his sister curled herself beside him, head on his shoulder and arms around his chest.
"Oh, Wills. I am so sorry. You have been hurting so."
"She was right to refuse me, Georgie. I loved her, but gave no thought to respect. If a man ever proposed to you in such a way, I'd throw him out on his ear."
Georgie giggled. "We are a sorry pair, are we not? But her opinion of you must be improved by your explanations, don't you think?"
William sighed. "Perhaps. But the way I forced my letter on her… it was just one more action proving me less than a gentleman."
Georgie leaned back and crossed her arms seriously. "Fitzwilliam Darcy. If you are not a gentleman, then I do not know what the term means. You are caring and honorable." She smirked. "If a bit awkward in expressing yourself to strange ladies."
Darcy couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, Elizabeth did tell me that I must practice more in order to become proficient."
The clock tolled the hour and they realized that it was already time for luncheon. After dining together amiably, the siblings parted ways. Georgiana spent the afternoon practicing a new piece on the harp and Darcy went to his study. It took him some hours, but by the time the dinner bell rang, he had sorted through all the papers and ledgers he had been muddling over for the past month and sent them along to his secretary and stewards, as he should have done weeks before.
After a pleasant dinner and some quiet conversation, the Darcys retired for the night after agreeing on a time to meet the next morning for breakfast before attending services. Georgiana was clearly pleased when her brother suggested that the pair spend Sunday afternoon together taking a walk in Hyde Park.
William slept better than he had in months and woke eager to face the new day.
Chapter 9. A Most Welcome Interruption.
Posted on 2010-07-08
April 1818
Although spring was usually her favorite season, Elizabeth's spirits were low that year, even after her father read Mr. Darcy's letter and made some changes in how he interacted with his family. When Mr. Bennet informed Lydia that she would not be going to Brighton, the youngest Miss Bennet threw a tantrum that lasted for weeks. She guessed correctly that Lizzy had had a hand in their father's change of mind and directed at her all the vitriol that a spoiled child could muster.
Exceptionally cold, rainy weather kept Elizabeth housebound for days on end. At Longbourn, there was the inescapable cacophony of Lydia's complaints (often echoed by Kitty), Mary's pedantic playing at all hours, and Mrs. Bennet's continued moaning over the dismal expectations of her five unmarried daughters. She continued to blame Lizzy for rejecting Mr. Collins, fret over Mr. Bingley's disappearance, and gossip with her sister Mrs. Phillips about everything under the sun.
There seemed a greater distance between Lizzy and her father, as though Mr. Bennet's confidences had made him slightly uncomfortable around her. She did notice that he was gentler toward her mother and younger sisters. Though his sarcasm could never be wholly restrained, he seemed to direct it at people or events outside their family circle more often than before. In general, he seemed to spend more time watching them, as though trying to understand these people that he had lived with for years but only just noticed.
Elizabeth was most saddened by the turn her relationship with Jane had taken. Immediately after returning from London, they had discussed Mr. Darcy's proposal and the revelations over Mr. Wickham, agreeing that the information should not be shared beyond their father. Jane had spoken little of Miss Bingley, saying that she had given Lizzy all the details of their encounters in her letters. Of Mr. Bingley, she spoke not at all. To anyone less familiar than Elizabeth, Jane might have seemed unchanged, but her heartbreak was obvious to her closest sister.
While Elizabeth craved a confidant with whom to vent, Jane turned inward. She went through the normal motions of her life but her gentle smiles never turned into real laughter or giggles as in times past. When Elizabeth tried to tease her into displaying her true feelings, Jane would simply wave her off, saying only "I am perfectly well, Lizzy," and leave to attend to some household duty.
Some of Elizabeth's despondency was due to the weight of the many secrets she was charged with keeping. She was relieved when the militia left for Brighton but Lydia and Kitty spoke of the officers so often that she was constantly reminded of her own mistakes and the truth revealed by Mr. Darcy's letter. She told no one except her father of what she knew about Mr. Bingley's absence and that weighed on her every time Mrs. Bennet wailed over the loss of Netherfield's master or she caught a glimpse of melancholy in Jane's eyes. And then there were her father's confidances that she could share with no one…
Elizabeth wished for a confidante and it amused her no end that the one person she could see herself trusting with it all and understanding her feelings was Mr. Darcy. She had not come to regret her refusal; his offer had been worded in such a way that she could not have been assured of his respect. However, the longer that she thought on their unconventional acquaintance, the more she recognized that they had shared a unique honesty in their interactions that was rare between ladies and gentlemen in polite society.
Elizabeth often wondered what might have happened, had he been less proud of his wealth and connections and she been less prejudiced by his rude words at the Meryton Assembly. She found herself having imaginary conversations with him, peppered with phrases that she remembered from their various exchanges. As she gradually lost her habitual irritation at the very thought of the man, other memories, more pleasant, began to surface.
Mr. Darcy had not been intimidated by her intellectual bent; indeed, if she now understood his words at Netherfield correctly, he had praised her extensive reading habits. The memory of Miss Bingley yawning over a volume with little interest other than the desire to gain a certain gentleman's attention made Lizzy smirk even now, months later. Although she still squirmed with discomfort over her words to him during their dance at the Netherfield ball, his suggestion that they converse about books made her smile softly.
Even if Mrs. Bennet did not constantly remind her, Elizabeth had long learned to conceal her quick mind and broad education from their general acquaintance. Gentlemen, in particular, did not appreciate being corrected or outdone by a young slip of a girl. One evening when she was but fifteen, she had been driven to a fury close to tears after she had contributed to the men's conversation over why the French commoners had rallied to Napoleon. Her comment had been brushed aside by Mr. Lucas (soon to become Sir William).
Young Evan Goulding, of an age with her but unable to locate Paris on a map, had laughed at her expression. "Don't be silly, Miss Lizzy! Everyone knows that ladies can't understand matters of politics or the military!"
It was perhaps lucky that dinner was announced before Elizabeth could respond. She found herself beside the ever-serene Jane and managed to absorb some of her elder sister's composure for the remainder of the evening. Later she had poured out her woes to her father, but he had had little answer for her.
"You have a good mind, Lizzy. Don't let the opinions of those old goats impede your pursuit of knowledge. A well-stocked mind shall always be a good companion, even when you are surrounded by fools." Then he had given her a copy of Mary Wollstonecraft's treatise on the education of women and retreated to the well-worn caves of his own well-stocked mind.
Now, in these days of self-study, Elizabeth took out that book and read it again, though with somewhat different feelings. At fifteen, she had been struck by all the inequalities of the world and had instantly resolved to become a bluestocking. The phase had not lasted long, for as much as Lizzy enjoyed learning about that which interested her, she was not given to constant study and Longhorn's bustle was not supportive of such.
Now educated by her father's revelations, Elizabeth found her memories colored in a new light. In truth, she had always felt somewhat ashamed by her lack of focused study. Certainly she was the best-educated and well-read among the ladies of her acquaintance, but she had never had the desire to closet herself away for days on end to study the minutia of a single essay as she saw her father do. Now, having heard her father's description of how Mrs. Bennet had brought a liveliness into the house upon their marriage, Elizabeth began to realize that she had inherited aspects of her mother in addition to her father, and that it was not a wholly bad thing.
Rather than seeing her own ease and enjoyment of society as a fault, she began to allow herself the freedom to be herself rather than a poor replica of her studious, cynical father. Indeed, she realized that, although she had always belittled her own lack of accomplishments, she had never really had the desire to alter her true self, perhaps knowing unconsciously that she had inherited too much of her mother's warmth and energy to ever fully take on her father's misanthropic demeanor.
Through all of this introspection, Elizabeth cheered herself with the thought that her upcoming trip to the Lake District with the Gardiners would soon provide a pleasant distraction. However, on the first of May Elizabeth was disappointed by a letter from her aunt indicating that their trip to the northern counties would be delayed and abbreviated. Her mood was raised slightly by the letter's hint that, although the public explanation to be given out was her uncle's business, the reality was a temporary illness of her aunt that they hoped signaled a new addition to the Gardiner family in seven months or so.
Mr. Bennet needed to consult with his brother-in-law over some business investments and the matter could not be delayed, so it was arranged that Elizabeth and her father would travel to London. When he returned to Hertfordshire, she would remain with the Gardiners for several weeks to assist while her aunt was indisposed. Though Lizzy might prefer the country, she looked forward to whatever entertainments they might partake in town while being of use to her favorite relatives.
The change of scenery improved Elizabeth's mood a great deal. She was adored by her young cousins for her stories, games, and fearless nature when they went to explore the parks. Although her Aunt Madeleine's sickness often kept that lady bedridden in the mornings, she spent her afternoons and evenings with as much energy as ever. One afternoon, after seeing Lizzy return from the park with her skirts six inches deep in mud and children's dirty hand prints scattered about the rest of the fabric, Mrs. Gardiner insisted on taking her niece on a shopping expedition.
"It is the least I can do after my own children ruined your dress!" Mrs. Gardiner shushed her when Lizzy tried to protest.
"Truly Lizzy, I am well aware of how quickly a lady's clothes wear out with five little ones; half get stained and the others are ripped or stretched beyond imagining!" Seeing that her niece was not yet convinced, she tried a different tactic.
"Oh, come now, Elizabeth. You must allow me the pleasure of shopping with a young lady; Edward is no fun at all!"
"Why do I feel my ears burning?" Came a deep voice from the doorway. The ladies dissolved into giggles while Mr. Gardiner settled himself by his wife. When she had explained the situation, he turned to his niece.
"Yes, you should certainly have some new dresses. Anything to save me from spending hours at the modiste, never knowing whether I am supposed to respond that I like or dislike a pattern!" They chuckled at this, all knowing that Madeleine Gardiner was most efficient in her shopping, always arriving with a list and a clear idea of what style and fabric she desired.
"But seriously, Lizzy. You must have a new ball gown for the Carlisle's ball next week; it is going to be quite the event and your aunt is having one made up as well."
Nodding, Madeleine added. "And a new morning dress, as well, to replace the one my little hoodlums destroyed when you took them out to the park to fly their kites."
She chose to ignore the furtive looks between her husband and niece and the pleased grin that flashed across that gentleman's face when Lizzy whispered. "They flew! Even Ernest's!"
Clearing her voice in mock disapproval, Mrs. Gardiner's eyes twinkled. "Perhaps we can work out a trade. You shall have a new gown, but in return you must fashion a dress for Rebecca's dolly from the remains of your kite-flying dress. She has been twitting Jonathan constantly for tripping you into that mud puddle and announced to me that when she is grown up, she shall never wear any other color--your sage green muslin is simply the most beautiful fabric in the world."
Laughing at her aunt's overly dramatic testimonial, Elizabeth agreed and it was decided that they would venture out to the shops the very next day.
The Gardiners were well known among the London intelligentsia and evenings were often spent at poetry readings or scientific demonstrations. Their dinner guests ran the gamut from politicians to artists, a countess determined to improve hospital conditions to university professors. In short, life at the Gardiner's was never dull and fed Lizzy's mind in a way that she had not even recognized she was missing.
Elizabeth's moments of melancholy came primarily from her sister's letters. Jane wrote of happenings in the village and the estate, but there was little of herself in her notes and Lizzy knew it was because of her sister's continuing despondency over Mr. Bingley. However, her guilt did not let her refuse the Gardiners' invitations and they kept her in a swirl of doing and seeing. The plethora of entertainments was in part purposeful; Mr. Bennet had spoken to his brother and sister and, without giving many specifics, let them know that Lizzy had suffered an argument with an admirer.
Deciding that her niece needed to be exposed to a broader circle than the four and twenty families with whom the Bennets normally socialized, Mrs. Gardiner had accepted an invitation to a grand ball that was being given by an old friend. The high season had just begun and the event was to celebrate the debut of an Earl's niece. The ball was certain to be well-attended and the Gardiners were determined that Elizabeth would be admired.
Though Elizabeth was not prone to the love of shopping often attributed to elegant females, she freely admitted to having a most excellent day with her Aunt Maddy. That lady was in her mid-thirties and her vitality made it easy for Lizzy to consider her as a friend rather than an elder relation of her mother's generation. After visiting Mrs. Gardiner's modiste and choosing styles and fabrics, they adjourned to a popular chocolate house for a bit of refreshment.
"I cannot wait to see you in that peach silk that you chose for your evening gown, Lizzy. It truly makes your skin glow."
"Thank you, Aunt." Elizabeth pulled a small swatch of the fabric from her reticule and rubbed it between finger and thumb fondly. "At the risk of sounding vain, I will admit that I am looking forward to it as well."
"There is nothing wrong in taking enjoyment from looking our best. I dare say that the world is a much prettier place with ladies wearing silks than it would be if we all wore sackcloth. And I should know, as my own husband's warehouse is filled with a rainbow of those fine fabrics!"
After some laughter, Elizabeth fingered the silk in her hand and said wistfully. "I was just thinking how beautiful Jane would look in this gown. I feel rather ashamed to have something so exquisite made up just for me. I am a little taller and thinner than Jane, so we can always remake her dresses to fit me, but with the bust already taken in for me, I shall never see her in it."
Mrs. Gardiner considered the younger woman for a moment. Although Madeleine had been the eldest child in her family, the death of her parents and siblings had left her dependent on the charity of relatives when she was barely eighteen. Her cousins had all been very kind and embraced her like a sister, but Madeleine had an inkling of what the second Bennet daughter was feeling.
"Elizabeth. You are a beautiful young lady; just as lovely as Jane."
Her niece was already shaking her head. "Aunt…"
"No, Lizzy. Listen to me for a moment. Your mother does you a disservice, always praising Jane's beauty and dismissing your own."
Slightly pink with embarrassment, Elizabeth protested. "Aunt, this is really not necessary. I am well aware of my looks."
"No, Lizzy. You are not; that is just what I am trying to tell you. You must know that your mother was a truly beautiful woman when she was young. I can only guess that she favors Jane because your sister looks so much like Fanny did at that age. Though their personalities could not be more different," Madeleine added wryly.
Elizabeth did not bother to stifle her giggle. It was good to spend time with a sensible relative.
Mrs. Gardiner tried again. "Jane is all that is sweet and serene. However, the point I am trying to make is that you undervalue yourself. You know that you are intelligent and well-educated, thanks to your father, but you have also grown into a beautiful young lady. I want you to remember that when you walk into the Carlisle's ball. Do not dismiss your own attractions; not every gentleman desires a sweet and serene wife!"
Elizabeth smiled weakly; her aunt's words reminded her forcibly of Mr. Darcy's preference among the Bennet sisters. Seeing that Mrs. Gardiner was about to speak again, Lizzy was quick to interject. "Thank you, Aunt. I understand what you are trying to tell me, and I promise to consider it carefully."
The two women smiled fondly at each other. Finishing her hot chocolate, Mrs. Gardiner set down her cup and folded her napkin. "Well, shall we take a last look for ribbons and slippers to match our new gowns?"
Several hours later, the two ladies returned to Gracechurch Street, tired but well-pleased. Mr. Gardiner was given to understand that their expedition had been successful and his bankbook not too greatly damaged. After some teasing that he would have to visit his own tailor if he was to escort two such lovely ladies to a ball, conversation drifted to other topics. A noted poet and his wife were expected for dinner, so Elizabeth excused herself early to dress. In her room, she reviewed several of the author's published works, hoping that she would not embarrass herself in conversation.
Elizabeth need not have worried. While the poet was shy and serious, his wife was merry and pleasing. Side by side, the couple was an inspiring example of a relationship based on love and respect, in which differences in temperament complimented rather than grated.
After fare welling the guests, Lizzy climbed the stairs to her room but paused at the landing to peek out the window. Parting the curtains so that she could look up at the moon in the clear night sky, a movement below caught her eye. Leaning slightly to the left, she saw the poet and his wife walking down the sidewalk. For just a moment, they paused and then the gentleman made a deep bow to his wife as the lady curtsied. When she was spun around in an impromptu waltz on the quiet street, the lady tipped her head back and laughed with pure joy and abandon.
Feeling as if she had intruded on a most intimate moment, Elizabeth allowed the curtains to fall closed and then skipped up the stairs to her room. She was blushing slightly and did not wish to share the reason, even with her dearest aunt and uncle. Without bothering to call the maid, she quickly changed into a nightgown and brushed out her long hair, binding it into a braid even as her mind was far away.
When Elizabeth had finally blown out the candles and curled up under the blankets, she gave herself over to the deep feelings that the impromptu dancers had stirred within her. Why would it affect her so? She knew any number of people act in such a way; she could easily imagine Mr. Bingley or young Mr. Goulding engaging one of her sisters so. Well, perhaps not Mary unless the middle Bennet sister had been truly struck by an affection.
It was then that Elizabeth realized why she had found the scene so moving. Such actions by a quiet, serious man spoke of a profound affection and trust. He was not one to display his deepest feelings for all the world to see, making the gift of such openness that much more precious.
Watching the moonlight filter through her aunt's curtains, Elizabeth could no longer deny that Mr. Darcy had always fascinated her. She had immediately perceived that he was an exceptionally handsome man and it was that admiration that had left her so hurt by his rude dismissal at the Meryton Assembly. Had he not intrigued her, she would have easily brushed aside his slight. Instead, she had turned the entire scenario into a great joke and spread the story among her neighbors, unconsciously attempting to hurt his feelings as much as he had hurt hers.
Lizzy hugged her pillow and sighed. She wished that she and Mr. Darcy might start afresh, but it did not seem possible. First, it was unlikely that she would ever meet that gentleman again; and second, there was surely too much between them to form an indifferent acquaintance (much less a friendship). Not given to melancholy, Elizabeth told herself that she would remember the past only as it gave her pleasure. Certainly her acquaintance with Mr. Darcy had taught her a great deal about herself.
Not much later, Elizabeth drifted off to sleep. If she dreamt of dancing on a moonlit sidewalk with a quiet gentleman from Derbyshire, she did not allow herself to dwell upon it extensively in the morning.
Several days later, Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth went for their final fittings at the modiste. The two older women watched with pleasure as Elizabeth modeled her ball gown. The style was far simpler than the current high fashions and Lizzy entertained them with an imitation of her mother demanding "more lace, more feathers!"
However, it was easy to see that the young lady was well-pleased. The color brought a glow to her skin and the classic, elegant lines of the style complimented her figure without making her feel exposed. Though Mrs. Bennet always made sure that all her daughters were well-dressed, for reasons of economy Lizzy often forwent new dresses to remake one of Jane's. By combining their allowances, the sisters were able to purchase more expensive fabrics and notions.
Though she had never complained, Elizabeth was struck by how nice it was to have a gown made just for her; to choose colours and fabrics that complimented her dark hair rather than Jane's light tresses. Though she was not ready to admit it, she had considered some of her aunt's advice. She still considered her sister to be one of the most beautiful women of her acquaintance, but away from her mother's constant criticisms Elizabeth began to think that beauty might not be the sole provenance of the golden-haired folk.
It was in this mood of self-reevaluation that Elizabeth arrived at the Carlisles' ball. On her uncle's arm, she was introduced to the host and hostess as they filed through the receiving line. In short order, her attention was drawn to the glittering throng filling a seemingly endless series of rooms. Her focus was recaptured when her uncle's arm drew her forward, and soon she was introduced to several of the Gardiners' acquaintances.
Not wanting to be lost in the crush, Elizabeth tried to keep one eye on her aunt and uncle while making conversation with two gentlemen and a lady. Though she attempted to remain open-minded, Elizabeth rapidly found herself bored with the conversation. The gentlemen seemed only interested in an upcoming horse race and the lady did nothing but agree with every word uttered by the men.
It was with some relief that Lizzy watched a tall, dark-haired gentleman join their group. When he was introduced as Lord Edward Fitzwilliam, Viscount Ashbourne, and eldest son of the Earl of Matlock, she realized that she had unconsciously recognized a similarity in his features to others she knew.
"Lord Ashbourne, I believe I recently met several of your relations; Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy." She said after her curtsy.
The dark eyes that focused on her were alike Mr. Darcy's in color, but the feeling in them nearly made her gasp out loud. Where Mr. Darcy's eyes always left her curious as to what was going on behind them, Lord Ashbourne's orbs were like hard stones.
With little attempt at civility, the gentleman replied. "Is that so, Miss… err… Bennet."
His glance swept down her figure and left her feeling unclean. With no immediate excuse to politely detach herself from the group, Elizabeth attempted to distract his roving eye with conversation.
"Yes; we met several times in Kent. They were visiting Lady Catherine De Bourgh, I understand."
Lord Ashbourne eyed her with a bit of interest. "Indeed. And are you from that part of the country, Miss Bennet?"
In this instance, Elizabeth had no qualms with trusting her instincts. She had no wish for this man to know anything about her (particularly where she might live), Earl's son or not. "No, Sir. I was visiting my cousin and his new wife. She is a dear friend of mine, and they only recently settled into the Hunsford parsonage."
The gentleman's eyes rose from his study of her figure and Lizzy was only barely able to restrain herself from crossing her arms over her chest.
"Your cousin is Aunt Catherine's curate?" He inquired, without attempting to hide a sneer.
Though she had no great love or respect for Mr. Collins, Elizabeth felt her courage rising to defend him and her family. It is perhaps lucky that she was interrupted before she erupted.
Mrs. Emma Watson, a close friend of Mrs. Gardiner, appeared at Elizabeth's elbow. Greeting the others with the ease of a veteran of London Society, she gently detached her friend's niece and guided her through the crush to another room that was only slightly less full. When they joined Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Elizabeth couldn't help but squeeze Mrs. Watson's hand in gratitude.
"Thank you, Mrs. Watson. I was having difficulty making a polite exit."
Mrs. Watson smiled and patted the girl's hand. "Not at all." Lowering her voice, she spoke so that only Elizabeth could hear her. "Lord Ashbourne is not to be trusted. He may be the Earl of Matlock's heir, but he is nothing like the rest of the family." She paused, clearly trying to find a delicate way to word her warning, and then spoke even more softly in Elizabeth's ear. "Suffice it to say that all the power of the Fitzwilliam family can only cover up so much of his… activities."
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully and soon Mrs. Watson was involved in conversation with the Gardiners and several acquaintances. Lizzy remained quiet for some minutes as she considered the lady's warning. Though she was saddened to hear such a thing of Colonel Fitzwilliam's brother (and, if she were honest, Mr. Darcy's close relation), she was somewhat relieved that her instincts against a gentleman appeared to be well-founded, for once.
Elizabeth also considered that where one Fitzwilliam had appeared, a brother might be in attendance (and perhaps also a cousin). However, the ball was spread out among a seemingly endless series of rooms and soon she was distracted by the entreaties of several gentlemen to dance.
The remainder of the night passed in a swirl of dancing and new acquaintances; it was nearly dawn before Elizabeth finally fell into her bed. When she awoke later that morning, her feet were still sore (not all the gentlemen had been as adept at dancing as Sir William Lucas would have expected), but she felt happier than she had in weeks. Lying in bed for a few minutes, she contemplated the reasons behind her heightened feelings.
Elizabeth had never attended such a grand ball nor mixed with the first circles so intimately. Though the Bennets were old and established gentry, they had never been one to strive for advancement into the peerage. Mr. Bennet had actively avoided London Society, although he allowed his eldest daughters to participate in events when they visited the Gardiners.
In a moment of insight, Elizabeth realized that part of her elation after the ball was relief. She had felt comfortable circulating among those people. She had not been intimidated, overwhelmed, or embarrassed. She had felt beautiful and admired but had maintained the irreverent view of the world that she had learned at her father's knee, taking nothing too seriously. They were just people, after all. Some had been ridiculous in their pursuit of high fashion, the ladies with their feathered and bejeweled turbans and the gentlemen with their intricately knotted cravats and wildly hued coats. A few, such as Lord Edward, had seemed predatory in one way or another, but she had eased away from them without much fuss. She had met several ladies that she would like to know better, having sensed kindred spirits during their brief exchanges between dances.
Smiling, Elizabeth allowed herself one last moment in bed to reflect. She had not realized that the thought of being introduced to Mr. Darcy's circle in Society had worried her. Truly, it had never even crossed her mind that they were not of the same sphere; he was a gentleman and she was a gentleman's daughter. However, her father's reminiscences of his own time before marriage and suppositions on Mr. Darcy's life away from Hertfordshire must have stirred some insecurity deep within her. He might be a mere "Mister" like her father, but in hindsight it was obvious that his family's vast landholdings and ancient lineage probably traced back to some Norman d'Arcy; his name was as good as some paltry Duke's title of lesser age.
The sound of the maid moving down the hall drew Lizzy from her musings. She rose and quickly dressed, hoping to head off the Gardiner children before they woke their parents. In short order, she and the nurse were herding Jonathan, Rebecca, Tommy, and Amelia off to the neighboring park.
Elizabeth did not consider her thoughts on the previous evening's ball to be any great revelation, but she walked with a bit more assurance than she had known in any previous visits to London. She still preferred country life, but she began to have confidence that she could handle the Ton without losing her self. They were just people, after all.
The next day was Sunday. After services, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, their children, the nurse, and Elizabeth all crowded into the carriage to spent the afternoon in Hyde Park. The two ladies spread blankets and unpacked the picnic lunch while the others fed stale bread to the ducks. When it was determined that the fowls' appetites were temporarily sated, everyone settled on the blankets and enjoyed the delicacies that their cook had packed.
Cutting an apple into slices for her young cousins, Elizabeth smiled at her aunt and uncle, leaning against the trunk of an enormous beech. "This park is wonderful. It satisfies even my need for trees and wilderness!"
Her uncle nodded. "Yes, old Queen Caroline did well by us, keeping some of the woods wild while landscaping the park."
Mrs. Gardiner stroked the hair of her four-year-old, fallen asleep in her lap. "It is hard to believe how London has grown. I remember my grandfather ranting on about the Grosvenor estate being broken up and developed into houses, however grand their architecture."
Mr. Gardiner grinned and nipped a slice of apple from his niece's hand. "Ah, but would we not be poorer if we did not have the architectural marvels of Mayfair and Park Lane?" They all laughed for, though many of the houses were lovely, the facades of several had clearly been designed with an aim to impress rather than simply please the eye.
"Papa, come play catch with us!" Nine-year-old Tommy Gardiner was never still for long. When his father collapsed backward in mock exhaustion, his elder brother took charge. Soon Jonathan and Tommy were tossing the rubber ball higher and farther between them. When it rolled a bit too close to the duck pond, Lizzy and Rebecca joined them for a game of keep-away, after moving to a safer area.
When Jonathan overthrew their ball into a little bit of wilderness beyond the pond, Lizzy waved off the others and ventured into the shadows to retrieve the ball herself. While the children were distracted by a troupe of ducklings, she found her prize lying on a faint path. Grinning over what Caroline Bingley would say of her now, Elizabeth couldn't resist following the trail a bit to see where it led.
For once, Miss Bingley's attitude would have been justified.
Ducking beneath a low hanging branch and around a gorse bush, Elizabeth was startled to find that she was no longer alone. Unbeknownst to her, she had blundered into a favorite staging area for a group of pickpockets. Two rough men, slightly drunk, were counting out their take from the Sunday crowds. They were well-pleased to see an unprotected girl stumble into their midst who would not require payment to share her pleasures.
The lady in question froze until the men dropped their prizes and moved for her with evil intentions clear in their eyes.
Elizabeth was able to twist away when the first man grabbed at her. She had no sense of which direction she was running but her terror lent her speed. After stumbling through the undergrowth, she had just managed to break through the brush onto a wide trail when the other thief caught up to her.
Lizzy's hope that she had escaped was lost when the ribbons of her bonnet tightened around her neck and jerked her backwards. Shrieking, her hands went to her throat, leaving her unable to break her fall. She landed hard on her left elbow and hip, but fear overcame any pain as a pair of mean eyes leered down at her and dirty hands grabbed at her wrists before she could fend him off.
A second man appeared at her feet and she had just managed to kick him between his legs, causing him to a turn away with a howl of pain, when she heard running steps from another direction.
"Unhand her, you blackguards!"
The man holding her wrists was jerked away. Finally free to loosen the bonnet ribbons around her neck, Elizabeth turned onto her unhurt side and took several gasping breaths before she was able to take in anything. Her attacker received a sharp punch to the nose and gut before stumbling away to his comrade who was still knelt over, nursing his own pain.
Elizabeth felt strong hands brush her shoulder and heard a tender voice, gruff with concern; one she had never expected to hear again. "Elizabeth? My God. Are you hurt?"
She looked up to see none other than Mr. Darcy kneeling beside her, his eyes full of concern and solicitude. Too overcome to form any words, she managed to smile wanly and move a hand from her throat to cover his hand and squeeze it in reassurance. It seemed completely natural to lean into his shoulder and for his arm to come up behind her and gather her to his chest.
The sound of bodies crashing through the bushes caused both to look back in the direction of her attackers, just in time to see the two ruffians retreating into the inky shadows. At the same time, Elizabeth's uncle appeared along the main path, calling "Lizzy! What on Earth happened? Are you all right?"
Before he reached her, she smiled wanly and managed to wave one hand slightly. "It is all right, Uncle. I am shaken, but not hurt." Feeling the arm around her tense slightly, she turned back to her rescuer. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I… don't know what to say… or how to thank you enough."
By now, her uncle was also kneeling beside her and, with one hand steadied by each man, she was assisted to her feet. Without thinking, she removed her left hand from Mr. Gardiner's and began brushing leaves off her dress.
Her uncle was still deeply concerned that his niece had been attacked while under his care. Taking a moment to look her over, he noticed her bleeding elbow and handed her a handkerchief that was larger and more practical than the small square of embroidered linen that she was using. "Lizzy, I can see that you scraped your arm; is there anything else that pains you?"
"My hip hurts a bit where I fell, and my neck--he grabbed my bonnet and jerked the ribbons backward-- but nothing lasting, I believe." Lizzy's spirits were beginning to rise again and her smile was a bit more believable.
"That is a relief, my dear, but tell me what on Earth happened? One moment you were playing with the boys, and the next you had disappeared and I heard a shout." Mr. Gardiner's fear had begun to recede and he took more notice of the tall, serious, young man who was still standing with a hand at her back and intense eyes watching her every movement. "And you, Sir. I am not certain what exactly has happened but clearly I must thank you for your protection of my niece." He was not sure whether to be intrigued or worried when both young people blushed.
Though every fiber in his being screamed to do just the opposite, Darcy forced himself to release Elizabeth's hand and take a step back. He felt oddly gratified when she reached toward him involuntarily before she jerked her hand back, her eyes looking discomposed for an instant.
With Darcy standing at a slightly more proper distance, Elizabeth forced her mind to steady and turned back to her uncle and his question. "Tommy overthrew the ball into the little woods there. I was closest and thought I could find it easily but I was not far in when I stumbled upon two men in a clearing. They tried to grab me and I ran without paying attention to the direction. I was fortunate enough to break through to this path, where Mr. Darcy rescued me. Mr. Darcy, may I present you to my uncle, Mr. Gardiner?" At the gentleman's nod, she made the proper introductions. "And Uncle Edward, this is Mr. Darcy. We met when he visited his friend, Mr. Bingley, at Netherfield in the fall."
Mr. Gardiner was nodding in recognition of the names and the two men shook hands, Darcy rather stunned at how easily Elizabeth had just handled introductions at a moment when most women (and many men) would be in hysterics, or worse. At that moment he felt a soft touch on his elbow and, glancing back, was shocked to realize that he had completely forgotten that his own sister was with him.
Squeezing Georgiana's hand to his arm, Darcy couldn't help but kiss her forehead as he drew her foreword. "Mr. Gardiner, I am honored to meet you, although I wish the circumstances were different. May I introduce my sister, Miss Darcy, to you? Georgiana, this is Mr. Gardiner and his niece." Darcy couldn't help but take a breath before making the introduction he had long wished between the two most beloved females in his life. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet, my sister Georgiana."
For once, Georgiana Darcy felt none of the timidity that normally froze her when faced with a new acquaintance. She stepped forward with hands outstretched to take the other lady's in her own. "Miss Bennet, I am so happy to meet you at last! You were so brave! But are you hurt?"
As the two young ladies checked Elizabeth's dress for tears and repaired a loose hairpin, the two gentlemen turned to each other.
"Again, Sir, I must thank you for your assistance…"
Darcy couldn't help but interrupt, barely able to remove his eyes from Elizabeth. "Truly, Mr. Gardiner, I thank God I was here. I only wish that I had been able to reach her before those scum could touch her."
Elizabeth's uncle could barely restrain a smile at the younger man's intensity. "Yes, well, let us thank Providence for what we do have." At Darcy's nod, he continued. "Do you have any idea who they might have been? This area is usually quite safe--I wouldn't bring my family here after dark, but on a Sunday afternoon in broad daylight I would never have expected such a thing."
Darcy shook his head. "As you see--I brought my sister here myself."
"Brother?" Both men turned to Miss Darcy. "We must take Miss Bennet home to clean up and have a cup of tea."
Elizabeth couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow--it sounded rather as though Miss Darcy was informing her brother that she was bringing home a stray kitten.
Mr. Darcy, however, was immediately nodding. "Yes, please come. We live but a few minutes walk from here. Just beyond the Brook Street Gate."
His dark eyes were so earnest that Elizabeth was agreeing before she could think.
Her uncle answered. "That is very kind of you and I would like to accept, but my wife and children will be concerned if we don't return soon..."
"Oh, Aunt Maddy… We must not worry her." Lizzy was torn between a feeling of responsibility to her relations and her unconscious desire to remain with Darcy.
Georgie looked to her brother and was amused to see him shifting from one foot to another, staring desperately at Miss Bennet. She had never seen him look less like the Master of Pemberley… more like a mooncalf. She decided to speak before her brother simply picked up the young lady and carried her off like some sort of savage. "Mr. Gardiner? Is your family far?"
The gentleman waved back up the path from whence he had come. "Just around the bend a bit. We were picnicking under the big copper beech by the duck pond."
Just then, a burly manservant came jogging around the bend and seemed relieved to see Mr. Gardiner and his niece.
"Ah, Burt. Did my wife send you to track us down?" At the man's nod, Mr. Gardiner turned to the Darcys and made a quick decision. "Why don't the three of you go on to Brook Street. Burt shall accompany you, if you don't mind. I will go collect my brood and be along in a few minutes." He looked carefully at Elizabeth to see if she had any qualms with this plan, but she was already nodding.
"Thank you, Uncle."
Trying not to look as eager as he felt, Darcy replied with every shred of gravitas he could recover. "Excellent, Sir. We are at 17 Grosvenor Square. Just up Brook Street, about center of the block, on the north side of the yard."
Mr. Gardiner smiled at such precise directions and thanked him, then turned to his niece and couldn't resist embracing her. "I have a feeling that you were very lucky today, my dear. Now run along for a nice cup of tea. I'll bring your aunt to fuss over you as quick as I can."
And so, the group parted with smiles. When Mr. Gardiner looked back over his shoulder for a moment before rounding the corner, he was pleased to see that the Darcys had arranged themselves protectively on either side of his niece, each taking her arm. He rather suspected that he might have to become accustomed to the view.
Continued In Next Section