As Darcy stood with his chin lifted, looking down his nose into the mirror so he could watch his man tie his cravat, he once again allowed his mind to wander back to three days ago when Miss Mary had told him he had succeeded in beginning again and Miss Elizabeth had agreed. Not even honey, eaten straight from the honeycomb, was so sweet as those words of agreement had been.
In the moment, he had forgotten himself and allowed his admiration for Miss Elizabeth to shine in his expression. It had been a mistake, for it had not gone unnoticed. Richard had been unbearable on the ride home, and neither his mother nor his father had discouraged him from his persistent teasing.
Darcy had been contemplating his predicament for three and a half days and three nights. His position was precarious, for he felt as if he was on the precipice of irrevocably losing his heart to Miss Elizabeth, especially if her eyes were to continue to reflect his admiration back to him as she had on that day at the Gardiners.
He blew out a slow breath as his valet moved behind him and ran his hands across Darcy’s shoulders, ensuring that all was as it should be.
“You have done an excellent job, as usual, Henry.”
The man thanked Darcy with a nod of his head and then, busied himself straightening the dressing room, while Darcy exited his room.
“You look just like Father,” Georgiana greeted him as he joined her to go down the stairs.
“And you are very much the image of Mother.” There was no denying that his little sister was leaving her childhood behind. She looked every inch the part of a debutante.
“Do you truly think so? She was so beautiful, or, at least, the pictures I have seen of her are.”
Darcy nodded. “I do think so. And yes, she was beautiful with a beauty that radiated from deep within her. I see not only her face and figure when I look at you, Georgiana. I see her spirit shining in your eyes.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, do not make me cry. A red nose and eyes would not go well with my ensemble.”
He covered her hand which lay on his arm as they descended the grand staircase. “I will not say another sentimental thing, for I have an image to retain. I am not Fitzwilliam Darcy, the maudlin master of Pemberley, after all.”
Georgiana laughed as he knew she would. “No,” she agreed, “you are the good master of Pemberley and the most wonderful brother.”
He cast a skeptical glance at her. “You are not going to ask me if you can go to Netherfield again, are you?” There had been small hints about her desire to spend Christmas with Miss Mary nearly every day.
“I will not ask,” she assured him. “However, I cannot help it if I mention my hopes and dreams, can I?”
He shook his head and sighed.
“You are a good brother, Fitzwilliam, whether we spend Christmas in town or at Netherfield with our friends. No lady has been given a better brother.” She fluttered her lashes at him as her maid helped her into her wrap.
“When you do that, I have no idea if you are being honest or hoping to coerce me,” Darcy said as he buttoned his greatcoat.
“Can it not be both?” she teased.
“I would prefer one over the other.” He put his hat on and held out his hand to her.
Her spirit was most certainly returning to how it had been before her ordeal at Ramsgate. She had always been a bit of a plotter. She liked patterns, and she had a keen mind to see how things connected. She had always claimed that it was the patterns and connections which made music so fascinating to her. Those same traits had helped her excel at playing chess. Darcy never had to let her win. When she won, it was all thanks to her clever mind and her own efforts.
Wickham had known that about her, and he had played to that part of her temperament – just as he had played to the tender heart he knew she possessed. Was there a blacker blackguard? To Darcy’s mind, there was not.
“This feels like practice for my season,” his sister said as she settled into their carriage, which would take them, first, to the Gardiners’ residence and then, to the theatre where they would meet Lord and Lady Matlock for a play.
“In a way, it is, I suppose,” he allowed. “However, tonight, you are not to flirt with any gentlemen, for you are not yet out.” Even if she looked as if she were ready to be out, he was not ready for her to be.
“I know.” The words were followed by a frustrated huff.
He should likely stop reminding her that she was not out. It was not as if she was going to forget herself or purposefully behave in an improper fashion. While she had made a mistake in trusting Wickham and had allowed herself to be bent to agree to his duplicitous plans, she had not been able to complete the deception. It was not she whom he struggled to trust. It was every gentleman who saw her as a possible wife and his own ability to guide her to a happy future that he doubted.
“May I speak to a gentleman if he is known to me and I to him?”
Darcy sighed. “I suppose I must allow it.”
“Though you would rather not.”
He nodded as the carriage began to move. He was not eager for her to move from the sister she had always been to the lady she was destined to become. “I will admit to not looking forward to your season with any great amount of excited anticipation.”
She smiled and turned her attention to the shadows and figures that could be seen along the lamplit streets.
For several minutes, they rode in silence.
“Fitzwilliam?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you fear my season?”
“I did not say I feared it.” Fear sounded like something which was far too cowardly to admit.
“Oh, no, you never do,” she hurried to assure him. “At least, you do not do so with words, but you grimace when I speak of my season as if the thought of it causes you pain. I know you try to hide your discomfort, but I see it.”
He would need to do a better job of concealing his unease. “I do not enjoy the season.” It was a true statement, and yet, a niggling of guilt pricked his mind for it was not the sole reason for his discomfort regarding her season. However, he did not wish to discuss the rest.
He saw her head shake from side to side. He was not going to be fortunate enough to leave his reply at that.
“That is only part of why you dread my season.”
Dread was a good word for how he felt about presenting her to a society in which charlatans stood shoulder to shoulder with gentlemen of excellent character and who could not be detected just with a glance. Sometimes, even a thorough appraisal of their person did nothing to reveal the worthy from the unworthy, and it was not just the gentlemen who posed such a puzzle. The same disguise was worn by ladies who pretended to be friends but were just as eager to use a friend to gain an advantage as a rogue was to use a lady for his own pleasure. Both were looking to sate their own desires, and a tender-hearted, trusting miss could be grievously hurt. With such a set of players mixed into the faces of people Georgiana would meet, how could he not dread being her sole defense against such scoundrels? There was no room for error in performing his role as guardian, and if he had not learned it from his father’s instruction, he had most certainly gained the knowledge that he was not infallible from the whole debacle at Ramsgate.
“Is it because I was foolish and believed Mr. Wickham?”
Darcy sighed. This was one time he had hoped her ability to make connections would not be so good. “Yes, but not because of you. I should have known –”
“What?” she interrupted. “What should you have known?”
That was a question which, should he answer it as he wished, would only lead to an argument he was unlikely to win, as Georgiana assuredly knew. He knew he could not have known about the duplicity of Georgiana’s companion or the treachery Wickham had devised, and if he knew that fact, Darcy had no doubt that his sister would also know it.
“I should not have allowed you to go to Ramsgate. I had refused and then was persuaded.”
The carriage fell into silence again for several minutes.
“I should have gone with you.” He closed his eyes. How many times had he replayed the incident trying to find ways that it could have been prevented?
“Not every untoward thing can be prevented,” she said softly.
“I know.”
“Is that why you fear my season?”
He turned his gaze toward the window. “I suppose it is,” he admitted softly.
There was a rustling of skirts as Georgiana crossed to sit next to him.
“This,” she whispered, “this love you have for me, is why you are such a good brother. I promise you that I will not be so easily duped as I was with Mr. Wickham and that I will seek your counsel, as well as that of Richard and our aunt and uncle. I will do what I can to make your duty lighter.”
Her words were filled with the wisdom he might have expected from a lady much older, not his younger sister. She was ready to face her season in more than just appearance. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you.”
She placed a kiss on his cheek before resting her head against his shoulder. “A wife could make your duty lighter still,” she whispered.
“Georgiana,” he scolded. “I do not wish to hear about my need for a wife tonight.” He had enough troubling thoughts running in those directions as it was.
“It is just a thought you should consider. I will say no more.”
She might not say any more on the topic, but he was certain that neither Richard nor Lady Matlock would be so obliging as to refrain from comment on the fact that he was not yet married.
~*~*~
Much to Darcy’s dismay, he was not wrong. His aunt was indeed of a mind to mention marriage several times before the first intermission. However, he had not been the only one to be gathered under her net of suggestions.
“I understand you are to come to town during the season,” Lady Matlock said to Miss Mary. “You will have to join us for an evening at the theatre then, just as you are now.”
“I would like that very much, my lady.”
“And, I could… perhaps… if it were acceptable to your aunt and uncle… maybe… introduce you to a few gentlemen,” Lady Matlock added, causing Richard to chuckle, as he rose from his chair and shifted toward the door. He often made a hasty escape during the intermissions so that he could avoid his mother’s machinations.
“I would like that very much, my lady,” Miss Mary replied.
“Take care, Miss Mary,” he said. “She finds games of strategy, such as matchmaking, to be highly diverting.”
“That does not scare me, Colonel,” Miss Mary replied.
She was as lively tonight as Darcy had ever seen her. The theatre seemed to delight her above anything she had ever experienced. Her excitement upon arriving had been ten times greater than it had been when they entered Hyde Park on their drive. It made him wonder what other entertainments might also prompt such a light-hearted countenance in Miss Mary. The transformation in her from what he had seen of her in Hertfordshire was truly remarkable.
“You are either courageous or unwise,” Richard responded from where he stood at the entrance to his father’s box.
“I am afraid it is neither, sir,” Miss Mary said. “While I have not been the subject of any matchmaking schemes, I can assure you I have witnessed many.”
“Have you, indeed?” Richard took a step back toward where Mary was sitting. She had obviously piqued his interest.
“Oh, yes. My mother is spectacularly good at promoting her daughters. Well, other than me and Lizzy, that is.”
Richard’s curiosity seemed thoroughly aroused, and his quest to escape seemed all but forgotten.
“And why, pray tell, does your mother not promote you?” he asked.
Miss Mary blinked as if the answer to such a question was plainly obvious. “Because I do not wish it.”
From the way Richard’s brow furrowed, it was not the response he was expecting. Indeed, Darcy had not expected such an answer either. Again, he began to wonder about the Miss Mary who sat next to his sister in front of him.
“One does not avoid a matchmaking mother just because one does not wish to be matched,” Richard scoffed.
Miss Mary chuckled. “One does if one goes about it correctly, Colonel.”
Richard shook his head as if befuddled. “I am certain there is no way to go about it correctly.”
“Or he would have found it years ago,” Lady Matlock said with a laugh. “I have been attempting to get him or his brother or his cousin,” she gave Darcy a pointed look, “to come up to scratch, but I have failed time and time again.” She turned her attention to Richard. “Would either you or your sister like to marry my son?” Her lips pursed in amusement.
“I am sorry, but I do not, my lady,” Miss Mary said softly.
Richard looked affronted. “And why would you not? Not that I am offering. I am merely curious.”
Miss Mary looked around the box. “Must I answer? I am certain you do not wish to know.”
If Richard did not wish to know, Darcy did.
“I would not ask if I did not want to know the answer.” Richard’s words were clipped. Apparently, Miss Mary had thoroughly ruffled the colonel’s feathers by contradicting him at every turn.
“It is your profession,” Miss Elizabeth said with a small smile for her sister. “However, we do have a younger sister or two who is excessively fond of a scarlet coat.”
“How young?” Lady Matlock asked.
“My age, or just about,” Georgiana replied.
“Both of them?”
Miss Mary nodded.
“A young wife is not so bad a thing,” she said.
Richard held up his hands. “No, Mother, I am not looking for a wife.”
“Neither is Darcy, but that does not mean you both do not need one.” Her eyes flicked from Darcy to Miss Elizabeth and back, leaving no doubt in Darcy’s mind as to whom she was suggesting as a wife for him.
“Why are young men not looking for wives these days?” Lord Matlock interjected. “I have found that having a wife has made my life so much better than it possibly could have been without one.”
“Just because Darcy and I are not looking for wives at present,” Richard retorted, “does not mean we will not be looking at some point. And when we are, we would like to be able to find them without my mother’s scheming.”
“I still do not understand the reluctance,” Lord Matlock said. “It is youthful ignorance.”
“Be that as it may, things are as they are,” Richard held his father’s gaze for a moment before turning back to Miss Mary. “What is wrong with my profession?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Soldiers are needed. Lands and citizens must be defended. It is a noble profession. It is just not one to which I would want to be married, and I do believe I am allowed to have a preference about such things.”
“I suppose you are,” he replied. “However, I still do not understand why you would refuse a man based on a profession which you call noble.”
Miss Mary said no more.
After a moment of holding Miss Mary’s unwavering gaze, Richard turned away. “I shall return.” He paused once more at the door. “I would still like to know your reason,” he said to Miss Mary.
“I am not giving it,” Mary assured him.
Displeasure etched his features as he turned away. “Gentlemen,” he greeted when he opened the door to find Mr. Pointon, Mr. Hodgkiss, and Bingley about to knock. With a wave of his hand, he motioned for them to enter before he ducked out.
“Darcy,” Bingley said by way of greeting once he and his friends had been welcomed by Lord and Lady Matlock, “I saw you and thought I would come to see what you have been about.”
“I thought you had returned to Netherfield.”
“I did, but I came back to town on business.”
“Business? I thought you completed all that needed completing before you left town. What business brings you back?”
A smile spread across his friend’s face.
“I am not at liberty to officially say,” he whispered rather loudly, “but it seems you were correct about your sister welcoming my return, Miss Elizabeth.”
Mary gasped. “Are you and Jane betrothed?” she whispered.
“I am here to see my solicitor about some papers,” Bingley replied.
“Finally! A gentleman who is not afraid to marry,” Lord Matlock said.
“Who is afraid to marry?” Bingley asked.
“My son and my nephew.”
Darcy shook his head. It was the second time he had been accused of being afraid of something! “No one is afraid to marry, my lord. It is just not the appropriate time.” He rose. He had had his fill of sitting.
“Perhaps you should escort your sister and her friends on a short stroll,” Lady Matlock said before Darcy could take more than a step away from his chair. “And Mr. Bingley, Mr. Pointon, and Mr. Hodgkiss can accompany you.” She shared a speaking look with Georgiana, who blushed.
He would have to ask his sister about that later. For now, he just wanted to be out of this box before either his aunt or his uncle could once again bring up the topic of marriage. He was not yet prepared to take a wife. He had a duty to fulfill to his sister, and a wife would be a distraction.
“It would be my pleasure.”
His aunt raised a questioning eyebrow to which he replied with a shrug. What was he supposed to say? No, I would rather walk by myself to avoid being with Miss Elizabeth because I find myself drawn to her and, without your help, contemplating giving up my duty to fulfill my desire to marry her? That would not do. Therefore, he would pretend that escorting his sister, who was once again fluttering her lashes at Hodgkiss, would be a joy.