Page 14
A TEMPEST
T he Darcys stood in stupefied silence until Elizabeth came to her senses and quietly urged her husband to introduce her to the tall man enfolding himself around Lady Catherine.
Instead, Darcy took his wife by the elbow and, joined by Fitzwilliam, moved to the corner drinks cabinet to spectate.
Anne remained in her chair, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide, but Georgiana practically flew from her seat to join them.
“Who is that man?” Elizabeth whispered. “And why are we gaping as if a giraffe has walked into the drawing room?”
“Limped, you mean, and with Cupid’s quiver emptied into Lady Catherine,” Fitzwilliam said. “Rather rude of Father not to make introductions.”
Elizabeth persisted. “Who is he, this Lord Cadbury? ”
“Clearly an acquaintance of some, um, duration,” replied Darcy. He wore an expression of such shock and disdain, it recalled her to their long-ago attendance at the Lucases’ dinner party, where the entire Bennet family, save for Jane and herself, had behaved so horribly.
“An old friend of the earl’s, and thus acquainted with Lady Catherine?”
“More than acquainted,” Fitzwilliam drawled. “I would say my aunt had a tendre for the man when she was but a girl.”
“Pining? Unrequited love?” Georgiana whispered. “That is the stuff of tragedy.”
“Not for him,” Darcy said sharply.
“Ha, but lucky for Lord Cadbury, his youthful knees allowed for a quick escape,” Fitzwilliam chuckled.
And it clearly broke her heart, thought Elizabeth as she half-listened to the outraged debate between Darcy and the colonel.
Although she could not hear a word of it, she was fascinated by the conversation between a clearly enraptured Lady Catherine and the plump and courtly white-wigged gentleman.
Never had she imagined seeing the imperious dowager cowed by anyone, but to witness her behaving like Lydia at a card party?
To see her simpering and blushing at the attentions of a gentleman clearly pleased to be in her company? Astonishing.
“We must pry her from him and demand he account for his behaviour,” Darcy said quietly. “His manners are insupportable.”
Recognising her own were lacking, Elizabeth glanced over at Anne—small, pale, and alone in her chair by the fire. Taking Georgiana by the hand, she led her to the settee beside the poor creature.
Darcy watched in disbelief as Lady Catherine tittered—her laughter resembling the death throes of a Christmas goose—and laid her head on the interloper’s shoulder.
The doughy-faced earl lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
More giggling, accompanied by the jangling of her heavy jewellery, followed.
Scandalised by the wanton display, Darcy all but dragged his uncle into the corner of the room.
“Sir, you must put an end to this-this outrage,” Darcy sputtered.
“My aunt’s lack of decorum and manners is indecent.
Shocking! I cannot countenance my wife nor my sister witnessing this spectacle of-of senescent lust. And think of poor Anne!
What does Lady Catherine mean by this rejection of all that is right?
A lady of her age and station must act as a model of good behaviour for impressible maidens.
Instead, she is overturning the God-given order of things.
Must my infant sister instruct my lady aunt, her elder , on how to comport herself with modesty and propriety?
Sir, you must step in before we find those two contumacious reprobates on the floor locked in?—”
His uncle waved at him to stop, wheezing with laughter.
After he had at last contained his amusement and wiped his eyes, he enquired, “Eh, worried about Lord Cadbury’s arts and allurements, are you, Darcy?
Let them have their fun as you and Elizabeth are having yours. Perhaps it will rub off on poor Annie.”
“But what of the harm it could do her?” Darcy muttered. “Anne is delicate, and like Georgiana, likely mortified and confused by such an outrageous spectacle.”
“I admit it is rather forward behaviour, but my nieces have been exposed to another pair of fevered lovers, both in the throes of new-found passion and in the aftermath.” He eyed Darcy’s neck. “Those are some pretty bite marks. Your valet should dress you in higher collars.”
The earl clapped him on the shoulder and strode away, chuckling, towards his wife.
Lady Catherine stared, enraptured, at Cad, heedless of the tittering and mutterings of her family.
His story, she learnt, was simple and sweet.
He had been a lonely widower for ten years, with five grown children and at least an equal number of grandchildren.
She sighed wistfully, imagining a half dozen miniature Cads rolling about on the floor.
She sighed more throughout dinner, listening to her brother’s enquiries about Cad’s business dealings and recent travels, and heard admiringly how he had ably negotiated some difficult matters on his vast estate.
Darcy, evidently cross that a gentleman of such great import had made no effort to engage him, sat with an even stonier mien than usual, while his impertinent wife seemed on the verge of some act of coquetry.
She too must be overcome by the charms of the debonair gentleman with flashing blue eyes.
Lady Catherine, seated across from her dear friend, stared dreamily at his cravat and wondered whether his neck was strong and fleshy or flabby and wrinkly.
Not that it mattered. She would only see the stallion-like, manly neck of his youth.
Lady Catherine wished she had worn her biggest, most beautiful jewels, and perhaps a dress with a lower cut at the neck.
The chit, um, Miss Bennet, er, Mrs Darcy , seemed to wear dresses cut to emphasise her bounteous attributes.
The pair were fairly bursting from their confines.
Perhaps she and the girl should have a talk, even consult about a modiste who could re-cut some of her own gowns?
With her hoydenish sensibilities, the minx seemed likely as well to have some advice on how to restore a youthful plumpness and higher elevation to a lady’s somewhat shrunken bosom.
The cherry trifle was quite good. Cad had finished his.
Would it be wrong to offer him a spoonful from her own dish?
Certainly not. It was good manners to share.
She laughed girlishly and called his name.
His beautiful name. “Cad? Would you like a taste of mine?” His reciprocating smile blotted out the gasps and clatter of dropped spoons.
She hoped no one noticed the blush she felt rising from her chest when his boot suddenly nuzzled her slippered foot.
At the end of the evening, Cad took her hand gently in his and kissed it. “May I call on you on the morrow? Will you be at home to visitors?”
In spite of her best efforts to remain dignified, Lady Catherine’s face heated, and she stammered, “Of course you may. In any case, you are practically family, Cad, hardly a visitor. You are welcome at any time.”
Lord Matlock came to Cad’s side and announced he would walk him out.
Dear Cad made an elegant leg and limped off leaning heavily on his cane, his gouty knee apparently bothering him, while Lady Catherine admired his retreating figure from the doorway.
When he looked back at her, she waved her handkerchief coyly at him, and he smiled.
She was desperate to have him.
As the two earls’ booming voices faded from hearing, Darcy quickly ascertained that Lady Catherine was gazing moonstruck at the closed door and was likely to remain in that state for some time.
He bent his head to Elizabeth. “Allow me a few moments with my cousin?” At her nod, he turned to Fitzwilliam and jerked his head to signal he wished them to step into the corridor.
“What was that madness?” Darcy hissed. “I have never seen so much impropriety on display, and on such?—”
“Ho, have you not, old man?” Fitzwilliam gave him a droll look.
“I seem to recall you and Elizabeth were caught out alone once or twice before your marriage. Kissing was suspected, and there was an odd mark on your neck. Come to think of it, I see one now—” He leant closer and reached out a hand as if to push Darcy’s cravat down to reveal a telltale sign.
“Do not be ridiculous.” Darcy, face aflame, swatted at his cousin’s fingers. “That is not at all the same thing. This Lord Cadbury fellow has cast a spell on Lady Catherine!”
His cousin shuddered. “I agree it seems like witchcraft. Certainly my eyes burn from the unsettling sight and sound of it all. Do you think our aunt does not know her own mind? It has been my observation that if she knows anything at all, it is that.”
Darcy almost laughed, but he was too affected by the endless and tawdry display of what appeared to be mutual affection. Was it? If he had not known better, he would have supposed his aunt to be soused. Never had he seen her behave in such a manner.
“She was smiling. Laughing.”
“Flirting.” Fitzwilliam coughed. He looked a tad green. “Lady Catherine, a coquette.”
Darcy felt a spasm in his belly. “Hell hath not yet frozen over.”
“No, but Lord Cadbury has melted our aunt’s heart.”
“I cannot think it true, nor trust the man,” said Darcy. “The name Cadbury is familiar, but I do not recall why. He, the handsome young buck she remembers from decades past, has turned her head. She is not seeing things clearly.”
“He is certainly no handsome young buck today,” Fitzwilliam agreed.
“And she is neither young nor, um, eligible.” The idea of Lady Catherine having interest in a gentleman was abhorrent, equal to the thought of a man having interest in her. Darcy shuddered.
“Are you suggesting, Darcy, that Lord Cadbury is using charm and flirtation on our aunt?”
“Yes! No! Perhaps.” Darcy took a breath. “We know neither his intentions nor his character. Lady Catherine will make a fool of us all if she is taken in by a charlatan! And think of Anne, her mother besotted and swindled.”
Fitzwilliam’s eyes narrowed. “The earl was my father’s particular friend at Cambridge, and although they have only recently renewed their friendship, surely my father’s opinion of him counts for something.”
“True, but you say they have not been close for some years. What led to their rapprochement?” Darcy held back his next question, for it was obvious his uncle had known Lady Catherine had a tendre for his old friend.
“What is the earl thinking—inviting Lord Cadbury after so many years to produce such a shock in Lady Catherine?”
“I suppose we could ask him.”
“I did ask him, and he laughed at my concerns!”
“Did he?” His cousin shrugged. “Do you think him prone to petty cruelty, teasing my aunt? He must trust Cadbury.”
Darcy shook his head. “Your father shared my father’s affection for George Wickham and was rather angry when I denied him the living. It was only last year, with Georgiana, that he…that Wickham’s venality was fully understood.”
“True,” Fitzwilliam nearly snarled.
“If Lord Cadbury has deceived your father, then we must not bring him into it. We must investigate the man ourselves. Find out about his interests, his vices, his finances. Is he a fortune hunter? Has he lost his estate at the card table or the race-course? Does he drink to excess or keep an opera dancer as a mistress?”
“Or is he a solitary chap who enjoys kittens and a pleasant ramble in a meadow of a bright summer’s day?”
“Those things are not mutually exclusive, Fitzwilliam. A sinner may adore kittens just as well as a saint does. But which sort is he, this kitten-lover?”
“What do you propose? To canvass your clubs for his character or get him drunk and demand an accounting of his prior connexion to Lady Catherine?” His cousin smirked. “Or will you hire an investigator?”
“Perhaps all three,” said Darcy. “We need clear, irrefutable evidence of Lord Cadbury’s good character. I wish to know more, but Elizabeth and I have delayed our journey to Pemberley quite long enough. I would ask for you to delve into his?—”
“No! Thanks to you and your ineptness with Elizabeth and her sister, I have learnt my lesson about interfering—whether by accident or on purpose—in others’ romances.” Fitzwilliam tapped two fingers on Darcy’s chest. “As should you. Go to Derbyshire and leave Lady Catherine to her own romance.”
Darcy tapped him back. “You are willing to fight old Boney in France but fear being found out by our aunt if we ask questions about her swain?”
Fitzwilliam let out a great sigh. If Darcy knew his cousin, and heaven knows he did, he would not walk away from such a challenge.
“Very well. An investigation it is. Where and when shall we begin?”
“We.” Darcy shook his head and sighed just as loudly. What would a few more days in town hurt?