| |
Darcy strolled into his club that afternoon, a low murmur of voices humming through the halls. He spotted Colonel Fitzwilliam talking with the Earl of Greymore and Viscount Wayne. Darcy joined them, settling into an armchair. The cognac leather was soft from wear but the cushions still firm. The aroma of cheroot smoke hung in the air.
They discussed politics and farming practices and the state of the war for nigh on an hour. The four men had been friends since childhood, and Darcy knew he could call on them no matter what befell.
They would have helped him dispense with Wickham, if it had come to that. Fortunately, the man had not meddled with Georgiana in an irreparable manner. Thank heaven she had been spared that.
Greymore and Wayne stood to go to the card room. Before they could head in that direction, a slim young man took a shaky step toward them. “What ho!” Greymore said, clasping the man’s shoulders to steady him. “Foxed already, Olimand? It’s not even five.”
Nigel Fellows, Viscount Olimand, was heir to the Earl of Featherstone. Dressed in the finest clothes London tailors could offer, he was an empty-headed dandy. Heaven help the nation if the wastrel ever took his place in the House of Lords.
Olimand looked at Greymore gloomily. “There’s nothing for it. Rickers has bested me at piquet again, and now he’s calling in his vowels.” He brightened a moment. “Say, you wouldn’t lend me a hundred guineas, would you? You’re always flush.”
“That’s because I don’t lend money to men who habitually lose at piquet.”
“Ha!” Olimand declared. “That’s a good one.” He laughed as if Greymore had said something uproariously funny.
Then, Olimand’s eyes focused, and he seemed to notice Viscount Wayne for the first time. “Wayne!” he cried. “Good to see you, old boy. That reminds me, I must get my wager in the betting books. It’s six to one that your brother will ruin an innocent by the end of the season. Ha! Excuse me, gentlemen.” He gave an exaggerated bow and wandered off with a veering gait.
Wayne’s face paled, and the set of his jaw hardened. Greymore placed a hand on his arm. “Pay no attention to him and his set. They are the most foolish puppies I ever saw.”
“Worse than we were?” Richard asked with a wry grin.
“We had Darcy to prevent us having too much fun,” Greymore said.
Richard chuckled, but Wayne maintained his grim expression. Darcy, for his part, did his best to remain stoic. He was accustomed to the jibes, and they no longer stung. Much.
Wayne and Greymore sauntered off. Darcy said to Richard in a low voice, “Can anything be done about Rolf Peabody?”
His cousin’s expression turned serious. “Wayne wants to buy him a commission, but Rolf refuses. His father ought to have forced his hand when he left Oxford. That man always was too lenient with him. Fell for his charm, like so many others.”
“It must be difficult to admit your own child is a scoundrel.”
“The army would be the best thing for him.” Richard spoke with the confidence of a man who has known his place in the world since birth. “And it is his duty. He is the second son.”
“I am not certain the word duty is part of Rolf’s vocabulary.”
“I worry about Arabelle. She does not seem to understand that he is no longer the boy she knew from childhood.”
Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “She is well chaperoned. And she is aware of Giana’s misfortune. She will not allow herself to be alone with the man.”
“How is Giana? She seems recovered.”
“I believe she is. The shock of Wickham’s engagement to Miss King cured her of any remaining illusions about the man. Having Bingley in the house has done her good as well. In him, she sees how a true gentleman treats a lady.”
“You do not fear her forming an attachment there?”
“Not at all. She mocks Caroline’s hopes in that direction. Giana says Bingley is like a brother to her.”
“Glad to hear it.”
They lapsed into silence a moment. Darcy sipped his port, then broached a topic he had been putting off. “Your mother tells me Josh is thinking of courting Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Richard let out a low chuckle. “He is not just thinking about it, my friend. He has sent a shot across the bow.”
Heat prickled Darcy’s skin. “What do you think of the prospect—your family aligned with the Bennets?”
Richard swirled his brandy before taking a sip. “The family has their idiosyncrasies, to be sure. But Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet seem quite lovely.”
Darcy nodded thoughtfully. The night before, the ladies had acquitted themselves with as much elegance as any woman of the ton. Darcy thought about the vexations of the recent trip to Longbourn, however. “Enough to make up for the embarrassment of their relations?”
Setting down his brandy snifter, Richard sat back in his chair. “I imagine the Bennets are no worse than many others of the country gentry.”
“Josh hopes to be a bishop one day. Should he not aspire to a woman from a noble family? It would increase his chances.”
“Josh is not the one I am concerned about.” Richard dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “Josh must always be courting someone. It is in his nature to chase after pretty women. He chooses the virtuous ones to make sure he does not catch them. No, Josh is in no hurry to marry. Peter, however...”
Darcy startled. “What about Peter?”
“He is smitten with the eldest Miss Bennet. He seems quite in earnest.”
Darcy pondered that a moment. “Peter is always in earnest.”
“True. He means to give Bingley a good challenge, though.”
Darcy scowled. “Peter just met the chit last night.”
Richard shrugged. “He decided to become a physician on the basis of one lecture. We all thought he would change his mind, but he did not.”
Giving a quick nod, Darcy considered this latest revelation. He was not altogether unhappy about it. The night before, Miss Bennet had seemed devoted to Bingley. Would she remain constant if courted by an earl’s son? He expected she would, but he would be happy to see proof of it.
The thought stayed with him the rest of the day. That evening, he mentioned the news to Bingley, who did not seem perturbed by it. As they sat drinking their port after dinner, Bingley swirled his glass. “After last night, I cannot doubt Jane’s affection.”
“Then why not propose?” Darcy asked.
“If I propose, we will be expected to marry as soon as the banns are read. And if we marry, where will we live? Here with you? With the Hursts? At Netherfield?” Bingley sipped the rich burgundy liquid. “Jane has not had a season until now. She is in no hurry to go back to the country.”
Darcy accepted that argument. “And you are not concerned about rivals?”
Bingley scoffed. “I welcome the challenge. Let Peter Fitzwilliam do his worst.”
Darcy wished he had Bingley’s confidence when it came to Elizabeth. Was Josh a true rival? He was an amiable man in company, a trait she liked. But Darcy did not think Josh in earnest. Darcy would have to keep an eye on the situation. He would not risk losing his chance.
***
A FEW DAYS LATER, BINGLEY dined with his sisters. Darcy enjoyed having Georgiana to himself for the evening. Only Mrs. Annesley joined them in the drawing room after the meal.
Darcy took a seat next to his sister on the couch. “Are you content with your life here in London?” he asked. “Is there anything you wish for?”
She set down her embroidery and looked off into space. “Nothing comes to mind. Thank you for asking. The house does seem lonely, though, sometimes. I do wish you would marry.”
His face warmed. “You know where I stand on that subject. I shall not be rushed, Georgiana. The decision is too important.”
She gave an annoyed sigh and went back to her sewing.
“You could invite Lady Cressida for tea sometime,” he suggested. “She is precisely the sort of young lady you ought to socialize with.”
“I do like Lady Cressida. But now that she and Arabelle and their other friends are out in society, they spend most of their time at ton events.”
He gave that some thought. “I confess, there is not much here to keep you occupied.” An idea formed, which he did not much like, but which might be to Georgiana’s benefit. “I can ask my aunt Matlock if you can stay with her during the season—”
“No!” Tears sprang to Giana’s eyes. “That is not what I meant at all. You are my family, Darcy. My place is here.” She bit her lip a moment, looking uncertain. “That is, unless you and Mr. Bingley would prefer—”
“Heavens, no.” He clutched her hand affectionately. “But you are lonely. Short of marrying, I am uncertain how to remedy that.” He furrowed his brow. “A young lady in your situation might attend certain afternoon entertainments. Musicales and so forth.”
A smile brightened Giana’s face, and eagerness danced in her eyes. “You know I love music.”
His chest swelled with affection for her, the sensation so sharp it was almost painful. “I have been remiss,” he said. “Such excursions should have been arranged for you from the time you came to London last year. Mrs. Annesley and I shall put that to rights. She can look through our invitations for some suitable events.”
He met Mrs. Annesley’s eyes. She gave him a smile and a nod. “It will be my pleasure,” she said. “I would not wish to take her out of the schoolroom every day, but twice a week would do her good. Especially if the outing is educational.”
Giana looked from her companion back to Darcy again. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Thank you, brother.”
The affectionate gesture caught him by surprise. He drew her closer. He loved her more than anything. There was nothing he would not do for her.
He sat back, not wishing to make a spectacle of himself in front of Mrs. Annesley. This decision would open more doors for Georgiana, and that pleased him. He kissed his sister’s forehead and left her to her needlework.
The following day, he visited his aunt. He wished to consult her about what events Georgiana could properly attend.
Giana was hovering at that in-between age. She was no longer a girl but not yet a woman. Darcy had no idea how to navigate it. A wife would make it easier—Giana had been right about that.
But winning Elizabeth’s heart would be no simple matter. And he would not make her an offer until he was certain of her affection.
As he approached Matlock House, his heart leapt. The Miss Bennets were being shown inside. As much as he wanted to see Elizabeth, it would give the gossips more fuel. Should he join them, or delay his visit with his aunt?
On one hand, he valued Elizabeth’s advice about his sister. On the other, he wished to avoid the temptation of her company. He had been overly familiar the night of the play.
In truth, he had stayed away too long. The play had been days ago. If he wished to court her without seeming to court her, he would have to be in company with her from time to time.
When he stepped into the drawing room, she was on the sofa with Josh. She laughed and touched her fan to Josh’s arm, as she had done a few times to Darcy. He nearly growled at the sight.
When Darcy was announced, Elizabeth’s eyes turned his way. He saw surprise in her face, and perhaps pleasure. Or did he flatter himself?
The ladies of the house were there—the countess, Arabelle, and Nerissa. Peter, too, sitting with Miss Bennet. Mrs. Gardiner was not present.
Darcy extended a general greeting to the room. Then, he sat in a chair near Elizabeth. “Where is your aunt today?” he asked.
Elizabeth smiled cordially. “She went to Cheapside to see her husband and children.”
Darcy nodded. “The separation must be difficult for her.”
“It is,” Elizabeth said, “but she is enjoying the entertainments in Mayfair. As Jane and I are. It is difficult to be homesick when we are kept so busy.”
Elizabeth turned to Josh, then back to Darcy. “I was just telling your cousin,” she said, “about the church in Meryton. I think the stained glass there quite fine for so small a town. What think you, Mr. Darcy?”
He sat silent a moment. He had not been to that church above a dozen times. What had he thought when he first entered it? Had he noticed the stained glass? He rather thought it was particularly good. “I must agree with you, Miss Bennet.”
“I should like to see it,” Josh replied. He offered Elizabeth a plate of macaroons. She declined with a shake of her head, her dark curls bouncing with the movement. Darcy wanted to thread his fingers through them, then caress his way down the nape of her neck...
Elizabeth spoke to Josh. “Perhaps when you are traveling from London to Derbyshire, you could call on us at Longbourn. My father would be happy to show you the church.”
“I would enjoy that,” Josh said, pressing her hand, “especially if you would accompany us.”
Darcy set his jaw. He considered the ways his cousin might pay for that liberty the next time they sparred at Gentleman Jack’s.
“So I will,” Elizabeth said, “if I am at home.” She turned and gave Darcy a smile and arch look, before returning her attention to Josh.
What did that look mean? Did she expect to leave home? Did she expect that Darcy would take her away from it? His heart lurched at the thought. Or perhaps she had only looked in his direction to keep him involved in the conversation.
Elizabeth continued in a cheerful tone. “My neighbour, Sir William Lucas, started a committee to restore the stained glass a few years ago. I believe, Mr. Darcy, that Sir William was impressed with you when you stayed at Netherfield.”
Darcy lifted his chin. “Was he?”
“I remember he once asked if you ever danced at St. James.”
“Good heavens,” Josh cried, “why would anyone want to do that? The balls mainly consist of standing about watching the royal family dance. And the women must all wear court dress with those huge hoops. That makes the crush of the crowd even more unbearable. No one would go to a ball at St. James if they could avoid it.”
Darcy, being untitled, had thankfully never had to make an appearance at such an event. He did not much like, though, to hear Elizabeth speaking of that assembly at Sir William’s home. Darcy had asked her to dance, and she had refused. Playful as she had been at the time, he now realized she had actually disliked him.
Elizabeth said, “Sir William was presented at court. I daresay he thinks the balls there must be grand. I would hate to disappoint him. His eldest daughter Charlotte is my particular friend, you see. In fact, Mr. Fitzwilliam, you may meet her the next time you visit Rosings Park. Her husband, Mr. Collins, is rector at Hunsford.”
“Collins, you say?” Josh drew his brow and seemed to consider a moment. He gave her a crooked smile. “I believe I have met him. The man is—”
“Miss Bennet’s cousin,” Darcy said, in time to prevent Josh from making a fool of himself.
“My father’s heir, in fact,” she added.
Josh looked at her in wide-eyed horror for only a moment before recovering himself. “How fortuitous for your friend.”
“To all appearances, it seems an excellent match for her,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth eyed him as if she wanted to bludgeon him, but instead gave him a sweet smile.
“Joshua,” called the countess from across the room, “do come settle a dispute for us.”
He turned to his mother, lifting his brows.
“It is of great doctrinal importance,” she insisted.
With reluctance, it seemed, Josh bowed to Elizabeth and did as he was bid.
Grateful for the reprieve, Darcy said to Elizabeth, “The day is unseasonably warm. Would you care to take a turn in the square?”
Darcy held his breath a moment. The question had been pure impulse. He did not want to share Elizabeth with Josh or anyone else. But how would she respond?
Her wide eyes showed surprise, but she quickly recovered. With an enigmatic smile, she said, “That sounds lovely.”
His heart gave a little squeeze. If he had thought through the request, he likely would have come up with a reason against it. Instead, he had followed his heart, and been rewarded. Now, he would have Elizabeth to himself.
***
OUTSIDE, THEY STEPPED through the gate and onto the green of the Berkeley Square garden. The sun was bright and the air filled with birdsong. “This is a pleasant spot,” Darcy said, offering Elizabeth his arm. “One could almost forget we are in town.”
“Do you miss Derbyshire?” she asked. She tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow, warming him. The feel of her so close wove his stomach into a cat’s cradle.
“I am used to spending the season in town,” he said. “London feels almost as much like home to me as Pemberley does. The retirement of the countryside might grow tedious if I were there all the time.”
“I do not find that to be the case,” she said. “But then, Longbourn is an easy distance from London.”
They walked along at a slow gait, enjoying the fine weather. “Have you been to the north?” he asked her.
“Never. My aunt Gardiner is talking of traveling to the Lake District this summer. She knows I have always wished to go.”
“If you make the trip, you must stop at Pemberley on the way. Georgiana would love to see you.”
“Georgiana would?” she asked with an arch look.
His cheeks heated. He stopped and turned to her. “I would be happy to show you around the property.”
“Does the house have many rooms?”
“About a hundred. Most of them are closed up.” He raised her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it. “We could spend hours there alone, and no one would notice.”
She tittered and pulled her hand away. “How scandalous!”
He looked into her eyes, aching to kiss her. She did not shrink from his gaze. He must take care. The temptation—
“Miss Elizabeth!” a feminine voice called from the pavement. “Mr. Darcy!”
He turned to see Lady Jersey standing beyond the waist-high iron balustrade. His heart fell. This was why he should not have invited Elizabeth to walk with him. He had been familiar with her, again, and they had been seen.
Elizabeth raised her brows at him. She gave an almost imperceptible nod in the countess’s direction. He liked Lady Jersey, but felt no particular warmth toward her as they ambled in her direction. “What brings you out on this fine day?” Lady Jersey asked.
“We were both visiting my aunt,” Darcy said, “and her drawing room grew crowded.”
“I imagine it did. And now you are having a tête-à-tête under this beautiful sunny sky. That is much more the thing.”
“It is far too lovely a day to waste indoors,” Elizabeth said.
“I agree. I am off to Bond Street. Do give your families my regards.”
As she walked off, he and Elizabeth headed back to the path. “Devil take it,” he murmured under his breath.
“I beg your pardon,” Elizabeth scolded.
“My apologies,” he said, though he did not believe she was such a stickler as to mind a mild oath.
“You are not fond of Lady Jersey?”
“I have nothing against her. I do not wish for you to become the subject of gossip.”
“We are doing nothing improper.” She looked over to where her maid stood by the shrubbery, out of hearing distance.
“No,” he said as they walked on. “But you must have heard about the talk inspired by our night at the theatre.”
She grinned. “I pay little attention to such things. Besides, Caroline Bingley probably twisted the rumours, to deny any tendre between us.”
“Thank heavens for Caroline Bingley, then.” He placed his hand on top of hers where it rested on his arm, brushing his thumb over her gloved fingers. “You and I are entirely unsuitable, would you not agree?”
“Oh, entirely,” she teased back. “We have nothing in common.”
“Except for our appreciation for the theatre,” he suggested.
She nodded. “And music.”
They passed through the broken shade of a plane tree. “And books.”
“Long walks out of doors.”
He turned and smiled as they continued to stroll along the path. “Country estates.”
She bumped her shoulder against his. “Lemon pound cake.”
“Chocolate ices.”
She stopped and looked at him. “How did you know I like chocolate ices?”
“Wild guess.” As they were in sight of Gunter’s, he asked, “May I buy you one?”
She scowled and looked back toward Matlock House. “We shouldn’t.”
“I believe we should.” He leaned in that direction, and with a sly smile, she followed.
She removed her hand from his arm and opened her reticule. “I shall get one for Sally, too.”
“It is my treat. You cannot think I would begrudge a few pennies for your maid?”
“I would not wish to impose,” she said, but put her reticule away.
For practicality’s sake, they bought Sally her favourite sweetmeat instead of an ice. Then, they sent her to let Jane know where they were. At Gunter’s, a single young lady could take refreshment with a man without a chaperone. It was the one spot in London that could make such a boast.
They sat at a table eating chocolate delights moulded into the shape of swans. Darcy let a spoonful of the sweet cream melt on his tongue. Eyes fixed on Elizabeth, he swallowed. “Mrs. Annesley and I have decided to allow Georgiana to attend afternoon entertainments. That is the reason I called on my aunt. To discuss it with her.”
“That is a wonderful idea. And yet, here you are enjoying this confection with me.” She sucked on her spoon, and the sight of it did wicked things to him.
“I could not resist. You are as sweet as any confection.”
She raised her brows, seeming to disapprove. “Jane is the sweet one.”
“Why can you not both be sweet? In your separate ways, of course.”
“My wit is too sharp, I think.”
That took him aback. Her wit was not sharp. She was delightful. “You are never unkind. When you were at Netherfield while your sister was ill, you were utterly devoted to her.”
“Jane is the soul of goodness. What could be more fulfilling than tending to her?”
He considered a moment. “Reading a letter over my shoulder as I write to my sister, perhaps? Or reading volume two of the book I am reading, when you have not yet read volume one.”
She coloured and let out a little laugh. “You are unkind! Miss Bingley did attend to Jane during daylight hours. It was only in the evening that she hung on your every action.”
“Whereas you did not care a whit about what I did.”
She did not deny it. “Should I have?”
“Not at all. I prefer a woman of independent mind.”
Playfully, she pressed her fingers to her chest. “Should I be flattered?”
“I did not mean to flatter. Merely stating a fact. What sort of man would want a wife so frivolous that she is fascinated by the most mundane words that he speaks?”
She startled a moment, staring at him. Then, recovering herself, she replied, “A man equally frivolous.”
He gave her a wry smile. “And do you think me so?”
Her spoon clinked as she laid it on the plate. “Not at all. You are the least frivolous man I know.”
He furrowed his brow. He was not sure how to take her words. “Is the opposite extreme just as ridiculous?”
“Do you think you are ridiculous?” she challenged.
He looked at her deeply and said with perfect honesty, “I never did until I met you.”
She laughed, then stopped when she saw he did not join in her mirth. She laid her ungloved fingers on his. “You are not ridiculous. You are reliable and kind. Perhaps a bit stubborn.”
His whole body was on fire from her touch. He forced his mind to focus on the conversation. “And proud?” he asked.
“I was mistaken about that.” She pulled her hand away, leaving him bereft. “You know your place in the world, yet you are not vain. You seek to improve yourself where you can.”
He could not take his eyes off her. “I hope so. I would do well to be instructed by you.”
“By me! Why, Mr. Darcy, what could a simple country maid like me have to teach a man of the world like you?”
“You are the farthest thing from simple. And as much as you do not wish to believe it, you are no more countrified than I am. As for your status as a maid, I would not dare speculate,” he teased.
She pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “How wicked you are! Who shall I call upon to defend my honour? My father? Or perhaps my cousin, Mr. Collins. He will next be head of my family.”
“Good heavens.” Darcy had met Collins but once. Although met was too strong a word. Without a care for propriety, the man had introduced himself as rector of Lady Catherine’s parish. He was fawning and supercilious and could not be a man of great intellect. Darcy wanted Elizabeth as far from that man’s sphere of influence as possible.
“You need a husband,” Darcy said plainly.
She eyed him intently a moment. “I am afraid I do. I would like to argue in favour of women’s economic independence. Yet I am not so principled as to seek a post as a governess just yet.”
He waved his hand. “It shall not come to that. If you ever find yourself in desperate straits, Lady Matlock will find you a match.”
“Will she?”
He continued in a light tone, hoping he was not too transparent, “She likes you. The morning after the play, she came to Darcy House and was scheming on your behalf.”
“Matchmaking, you mean? Did she have a particular gentleman in mind?”
“I believe she had more than one,” Darcy recalled.
“Would any of them suit, do you think?”
“That is difficult to say. I know not what sort of husband you have in mind.” He knitted his brows. “I can hardly imagine a man who would not find you delightful—who would not be a better person with you by his side. But what sort of man could be worthy of Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
She pressed a finger to the side of her chin. “He would have to have fifteen thousand a year, and be a marquess at least.”
He pretended to consider that. “Elwood would suit, then. He is a widower, nearing ninety. Due to his health, he never leaves Cornwall.”
She gazed at him, her eyes wide and merry. “Why then, to Cornwall I must go.”
“Be forewarned. His nephew guards him vigorously against the prospect of siring any heirs male.”
“Perhaps I could be obliging and provide him with a daughter. That would secure my place as dowager, would it not?”
“Indeed.” He looked at her assessingly, turning serious. “I shall not be easy until you are well settled. It is not my place, I know. Remarkably rude, in fact. You are vulnerable. It should not be so.”
She watched him for what seemed a long time, as if trying to make out his character again. “That is a strange sentiment.”
“Is it? Are you so unused to a man wishing to protect you?”
She blinked a few times, her eyes glistening. She seemed to withdraw inside herself. “Oh, dear,” she said suddenly, “we are keeping Sally waiting. She has been back from Matlock House for some time.”
He turned to see the maid standing on the sidewalk outside the shop. “May I walk you home, then?” he asked Elizabeth.
“I...yes, thank you.”
He stood and offered his outstretched hand. She seemed rather dazed a moment before taking it and rising to her feet. She held his arm as he manoeuvred her through the crowd. It felt right somehow to have her at his side, under his protection.
That was where he wanted her. And for the first time, with the way she held on to him, she hinted that she felt the same.
