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Darcy rode his mare in Hyde Park the next morning whilst most of the fashionable set was still abed. The sun hung low in the eastern sky, and frost clung to the grass. The rhythm of hoof beats soothed his mind.
He could not stop thinking about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The pleasure of her company at the play had turned into an agony of longing as he had lain alone in bed. He had lost his sanity—that was the only explanation for it. How else could he consider making the woman his wife, when he knew her so little?
Her presence in a house just steps away from his uncle’s had made his predicament even more difficult. They would be thrown together constantly. Could he resist making a fool of himself?
If he wanted to marry, the countess could introduce him to the most eligible daughters of the peerage. Elizabeth had nothing to offer but herself. That alone, he had to admit, enticed him more than a favourable connection or a vast fortune.
In the weeks after he had left Hertfordshire, he had felt an absence in his life. And when he had spotted her a few weeks ago, huddled against the rain, that emptiness had been filled again.
Would he allow this infatuation to override all other inducements? Could he endure a life without her?
Women of the ton did not scold him for his reticence, nor puzzle out his character. They gave him bland smiles and talked on harmless subjects. They did not leave him with the disturbing sensation they were laughing at him.
No. They allowed him to keep his equanimity. To spend an evening without being swamped by a tumult of emotion.
Elizabeth was beautiful, and he wanted her physically. He admired her brilliant mind and her kind heart. But the feelings she brought out in him were chaotic.
Was that what he wanted in a wife? And could this woman, so aware of his every fault, give him the love he desired?
He considered his options and concluded there were three. First, marry her; second, forget her; and third, find another.
Marrying her was out of the question, at least until he knew her well enough to trust her motives. Forgetting her was impossible. That left the third option.
He galloped along the tan and gravel path of Rotten Row. As he rode, empty stretches of grass and copses of trees flowed past in the distance. He took a mental inventory of the eligible young ladies of his acquaintance.
Darcy’s choices were not as plentiful now as they would be after Easter. Lady Cressida was a clever girl, as well as beautiful and kind. But she was little more than a child. Miss Peabody he instantly rejected. He saw no harm in her, but she was insipid and lacked any sort of intellectual curiosity.
Lady Carson’s two daughters, Ursula and Eugenia, were perfectly eligible. Ursula, the elder, was blonde and classically pretty. However, she had an aloofness he did not like. She would not be the caring sister Georgiana wished for.
Her sister Eugenia was arresting with her chestnut hair and green eyes. She was also more personable. Her conventionality bored him, though. He had never heard her speak an original thought.
And then there was Lady Belinda Fellows, daughter of the Earl of Featherstone. She was a dark-haired beauty, blue-eyed and wasp-waisted. But the few times he had conversed with her, he found her haughty and ill tempered. Whether she was spiteful by nature or merely peevish, he did not wish to further the acquaintance.
He might as well accept the fact. He would find an objection to every woman he considered. His heart had already made its choice.
When he had seen Elizabeth standing under that awning in the pouring rain, he could have ridden on. But no, he had immediately signalled for his driver to stop, and swept her into his carriage—and back into his life.
Because that was where he wanted her. In his life, in his bed, in his home forever. Did anything else matter?
Yet courting her openly was out of the question. Not until he was committed to making an offer. Given her circumstances, he could not risk creating expectations.
In the meantime, he must preserve Elizabeth’s reputation. After their familiarity the night before, gossip would be spreading through the ton.
But how?
Perhaps a diversion.
He thought back to something Lady Cressida had said the night before. He had not given much thought to her pronouncement at the time. She had tossed it about as one of those meaningless things ladies say when speaking of love.
Yet in retrospect, it had been full of meaning. She had said she had a wife in mind for him. A woman who was in hearing distance.
The only women in hearing distance had been herself, Giana, Mrs. Annesley...and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Blast! Was the entire ton scheming to bind them together?
Clearly, Lady Cressida was not attached to Darcy. She had so many suitors, she would hardly notice one more. It could do no harm if he seemed to court her, to distract attention away from Elizabeth.
He hated dissembling, but he needed to put distance between himself and Elizabeth in the ton’s eyes. Given her lack of fortune, the vultures would not be kind.
He slowed his pace to a cantor. By the time he returned to Darcy House, his mind was more at ease. With a light heart and a casual air, he spoke to the butler. He ordered flowers sent to Lady Cressida Marlowe with Darcy’s regards.
He changed out of his riding clothes and went to the breakfast room. Georgiana joined him as he sat at the table to a meal of kippers, eggs, and toast.
Bingley had not yet come downstairs. After a late evening, it was his habit to stay in his rooms, where his valet would take him a tray.
Bingley’s absence was just as well. It allowed Giana to speak uninterrupted about the fun she had had the previous evening. In an animated voice, she asked, “Was not Miss Elizabeth Bennet the most charming company?”
“She was indeed,” Darcy answered honestly, adding cream to his coffee.
“I have not met anyone,” Giana continued, “whom I would so wish to have as a sister.”
Darcy looked at her a long while. Et tu, Brute? “It is too soon to discuss anything of that sort.”
Giana arched her brows. “You are enamoured of her. It will do you no good to deny it. I can see it in the way you look at her, and hear it in the way you speak.”
He tapped a soft-boiled egg to break the shell. “I admit to liking her, but do not get carried away. I do not wish to see you disappointed.”
“You think less of her because she has no fortune.”
Anger rose in his chest. He wanted to chastise her. Yet he realized Giana was not at fault for his strong reaction. Her words had hit too close to home.
He took a deep breath to calm himself before saying, “I do not think less of her. I am more cautious. I underestimated Wickham’s determination to marry a rich wife, and it nearly cost you your future. I shall not make that mistake again.”
Giana scowled at him, her lips pinched together crossly. “What if I fell in love with a man of her station? Would you forbid me to marry him? Would you call him an adventurer?”
“It depends on the man.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Does something else trouble you about Miss Elizabeth, other than her rank?”
An ache formed at his temples. Elizabeth’s rank did not concern him. But Giana still showed incredible naïveté when it came to the threat of fortune hunters. Even after Wickham’s duplicity.
In consternation, he dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. “Giana, our grandfather was an earl. Do you not understand what that means?”
“Mama and Lady Catherine always thought it meant a great deal. For myself, it seems a way for one person to lord themselves over another—something I have no interest in.”
Darcy straightened. He did not care for her answer, but he could hardly scold her for it.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh was their mother’s sister, and even prouder of her noble blood than their mama had been. Darcy bristled at the comparison between his behaviour and Lady Catherine’s. He did not want Giana to think he regarded Elizabeth as his inferior in any way.
How could he explain it to her? Mrs. Bennet was a conniving woman. She and some others in Meryton had behaved with a strange mix of pride and vulgarity. It had aroused a sort of disgust in him.
Yet neither Miss Elizabeth nor her elder sister had shown a hint of vulgarity. They carried themselves with a graceful sort of propriety. One that showed not only an understanding of what the rules were but why they were. There was no conceit in them nor rebellion. They were sensible, upright young ladies.
None of that, however, brought him closer to answering Giana’s question.
He looked about, making sure Mrs. Annesley was not in hearing range. Then, he spoke to his sister in low tones. “If a man does not have an independent income, he can join the military or enter one of the professions. A respectable woman in the same circumstances can only become a governess or a companion. That means going into service, which means a loss in status. If the Miss Bennets do not marry well, that will be their fate. Under such conditions, a man must be wary of their motives.”
Georgiana gazed at him with frank astonishment written on her features. Her eyes were wide, and her lips moved without making a sound. Finally, she said, “I have never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.”
Now it was Darcy’s turn to be astonished. His sweet, shy little sister had never spoken to him in such a manner. “If this is how you act after spending an evening in the company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet—”
“This is how I act when my brother, who has always been sensible before, starts spouting nonsense. The Miss Bennets are two of the most genuine people I know.”
“Georgiana, I shall not countenance this from you.”
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “I would think, given Miss Elizabeth’s circumstances, that you would be eager to raise her up. To save her from a life of genteel poverty.”
“Of course. But not at the cost of my own happiness. I have no wish to enter into a loveless marriage. I must be certain of her true esteem before I make her an offer.”
Giana perked up. A broad smile broke over her face. “Then you are considering it?”
“I have not ruled it out.”
“Oh, Darcy!” she jumped from her chair and threw her arms around him.
“This is no cause for celebration.” He released her from the hug. “Sit down and eat your breakfast.”
Darcy went back to his kippers, but the next moment a giggle escaped his sister’s lips. He glared, and she covered her mouth with her hand, composing herself. But in the time it took him to butter a slice of toast, she was laughing again.
***
AFTER FINISHING HIS meal, Darcy went to his study to read his correspondence. At the top of the stack was an invitation to Lady Greymore’s ball. He lifted his brows at this turn of luck. The event gave him an excuse to call on Lady Cressida and further his plan.
As it was nearly eleven, he made haste and found the ladies at home. “Lady Greymore, delightful to see you again,” he said as the servant showed him into the drawing room. “Lady Cressida.” He bowed over her hand.
“Mr. Darcy,” the young woman said, “thank you for the lilies.”
Darcy murmured some pleasantries, satisfied with his butler’s choice of flowers.
Lady Greymore gestured for him to sit. As he did so, he said to her, “I was delighted to receive the invitation to your upcoming ball.” He turned to the daughter. “Are you free for the first set?”
Lady Cressida blinked a few times, then said, “I am not yet engaged for those dances.”
“Then I hope you will do me the honour.”
“I would be happy to.” The smile she gave him was all civility, but no pleasure shone in her eyes.
A hint of unease swept through him. Perhaps it was unkind to deny her the pleasure of opening the ball with another. A man who sought her heart.
He concluded, however, that it was for a good cause. She was already involved with Georgiana’s scheme to unite him with Elizabeth. Diverting the attention of the ton was part of that plot.
Even if no one would know it but him.
As it turned out, he had made his request of Cressida just in time. No sooner had Lady Greymore poured the tea than another gentleman caller arrived. Having secured his purpose, Darcy finished his beverage and took his leave. A mere quarter-hour had elapsed since he had arrived. He was gratified that the business had been handled efficiently.
The only delay came when he passed by Lord Greymore on the way out. They greeted each other on the stone steps beneath the sprawling branches of a plane tree. Darcy explained the purpose of his visit.
Greymore frowned. “I had expected you to dance the first set with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Darcy stiffened. As expected, the speculation had begun already. “I admit, she has become a dear friend of my sister. That is the extent of the relationship I can claim between our two families.”
Greymore nodded slowly. “I am glad to know it.”
Darcy did not like that look. Still, he did not question it. He would seem too eager. Instead, he tipped his hat, and was on his way.
He arrived home a little before noon. Bingley had not yet come downstairs but likely soon would. Perhaps they would head to their club.
Darcy was dreading the gossip about himself and Elizabeth that might be circulating. Beguiled by her presence, he had not been as circumspect as he should have been the night before. He had better take action to stop the rumours before they got out of hand.
If a bit of pretence would protect her, then that was a price he was willing to pay.
While waiting for Bingley, he went back to his study to finish his correspondence. He was reading a letter from his steward when the butler announced the Countess of Matlock. At the mere sound of her name, Darcy knew the morning’s gossip must have been every bit as bad as he feared.
She stepped in looking regal, dressed for an afternoon of visiting. With two unmarried daughters, she was still very much a fixture in the London social scene.
Darcy kissed her cheek, and she got to the point at once, not bothering to waste her breath on pleasantries. “According to the latest on-dit,” she said, “I will soon have cause to wish you joy.”
He kept his features as still as marble. “If you refer to Miss Elizabeth Bennet—”
“I cannot say I am surprised by this latest news. You were a lovesick puppy at Christmas. You sighed and brought up her name at every opportunity, even though none of us knew her from Eve.”
Darcy stared at her in surprise. “I do not deny that I admired her, but I was certainly not lovesick.”
She waved her hand, as if his denial was inconsequential. “And what about now?”
His face heated. “I am not courting Miss Elizabeth.”
“Then you will not mind if Josh courts her.”
Anger flooded his chest. Was this why she had come? She was not one to meddle, but somehow that made her interference even more irritating to him. “Josh?”
“He says the much-praised beauty of the elder Miss Bennet is nothing to her sister’s.”
Darcy gazed at her, dumbfounded. This must be a joke. Josh could not truly have intentions towards Elizabeth. He had just met the chit. “Does he realize she is nearly penniless?”
His aunt levelled a look at him, eyes narrow, lips pinched. “Indeed, I received a letter to that effect this morning from Lady Catherine. She had heard that the Bennet sisters were in town and sought to warn me about them. Their cousin—their father’s heir—is rector in Lady Catherine’s parish, you know.”
Darcy knew. He remembered the fool well.
Lady Matlock pulled a sheet of paper from her beaded reticule and lifted her quizzing glass. “Let me find the passage...ah, yes, here it is. ‘The ladies can expect no more than their share of their mother’s five thousand pounds at its four per cents.’ The accounting of the Bennet fortune is quite detailed.”
Darcy surveyed her as she put away the letter. The countess’s intellect was infinitely superior to that of his other aunt. Where Lady Matlock was perceptive, Lady Catherine was imperious. Where Lady Matlock was curious, Lady Catherine was opinionated. At the moment, Lady Matlock seemed unaffected by her sister-in-law’s concerns.
“Certainly Josh wants a wife with more promising prospects,” Darcy suggested.
“Why should he? He will have the Matlock living as soon as the old rector retires. And I daresay he shall have a bishopric five or ten years hence. Lord Matlock has his eye on one of the more lucrative ones.”
Darcy paced, struggling to understand what he was hearing. Was his own cousin truly a rival? “You would approve a match between Josh and Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“That is impossible to say. I have not met the girl. You must hold a high opinion of her, if you let Georgiana spend time with her.”
“Georgiana is not going to marry her.”
She took out her kid gloves, signalling her intention to be on her way. “Is the lady respectable?”
“Certainly.”
“Then I have no objection to Josh courting her, if he so chooses.” She watched Darcy a moment, then said with a wry smile, “Do you?”
His chest tightened. He would call out his cousin before he saw him wed Elizabeth Bennet. But he did not want to tip his hand too soon. “Of course not.”
“Then it is settled.” His aunt took her leave, sweeping out of the room with aplomb, head held high. Her features bore no hint of mischief.
