Page 22 of An Offer of Marriage (Engaged to Mr Darcy #7)
NOT MERELY GOSSIP
A nne sat in a saloon among a gaggle of insipid young ladies, wishing for something, anything , with which to amuse herself; at length something amusing did arise—her cousin’s scene with Elizabeth Bennet outside of his club.
How good it is that Elizabeth Bennet causes such exhibitions as to make it so easy to discredit her.
She did not like being the agent of the lady’s downfall—well, she did like it a little, but only because she had tried to take Anne’s husband away from her with her arts and allurements.
She was low and low people behaved in low ways.
In any case, it was not she who had made her run amok through the busy shopping area in the midst of anyone and everyone who mattered.
Miss Bennet had done that all on her own.
In a voice dripping with fake sympathy, Lady Hortense looked at her and said, “It must be so difficult to be connected to such a lady.”
“Me, connected to her? I assure you I am not,” Anne said haughtily. “Indeed, the lady is not connected to anyone of note. I am loath to even call her a lady.”
“But she is marrying your cousin,” Miss Williams said, her blue eyes wide with stupidity. “That will make her a lady of consequence no matter who she was before.”
Anne scoffed. “Darcy will not marry the chit, I can assure you of that.”
“But I had heard from Jolly Rollings—” began Lady Grace.
“Of course, that is what the lady would like to see happen, to be sure,” Anne said. “Does not every lady who gets herself in these…difficulties…wish for a hasty marriage to erase her sin?”
There was a short pause while all the ladies in the little gaggle digested her implications.
Lady Grace said, “You do not mean…?”
“None of us are married, but I daresay we all know just what I mean,” Anne replied.
Delighted glances went about the circle of young ladies. “Do you mean to say that Darcy got her with child?” Lady Hortense asked.
Anne waved her hand about airily. “He says not. You know how these lowborn country girls are! Positively desperate to elevate themselves and willing to do anything it takes to achieve it. They wish to pin it on Darcy, but I do not think he will have it. Probably some farmer in Hertfordshire is the true father.”
There was a satisfying gasp, and Anne tried unsuccessfully to hide her smile.
That should be the end of this nonsense , she thought.
Darcy would be begging her to be his wife in days, to recover his reputation if nothing else.
And Elizabeth Bennet would be sent back into obscurity where she belonged.
A few mornings after the scene outside of White’s, Darcy sat in his book-room, indolent under the weight of his misery when Saye arrived with Lady Matlock in tow.
His cousin appeared grave, and not satirically grave.
Actually grave. His hair had been brushed straight back from his face and pomaded heavily for a severe look.
Saye believed it made him look Italian. Lady Matlock only looked deeply troubled.
“This seems serious,” said Darcy after he had sent Mrs Hobbs to get them all tea. Were it only Saye, he might have wished for sterner stuff, but in deference to his aunt and the morning hour, tea it was.
“I am afraid it is,” said Lady Matlock and then gave her son a look.
“There is talk,” Saye informed him. “A great deal of it and each telling more salacious than the last.”
Darcy sat bolt upright, visions of Wickham breaking his silence on his escapade with Georgiana dancing in his head. “Who?” he demanded. “If Wickham has uttered a word, I shall see him hanging in chains, you may depend upon that!”
“Wickham?” Lady Matlock. “What has he to do with it?”
“Only the principal part!” Darcy retorted.
“I think we have some misunderstandings among us,” Saye interjected. “Darcy, the talk I refer to is nothing to do with the business at Ramsgate. It is, however, much to do with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Darcy sank back into his chair and sighed heavily, raising one hand to rub his forehead. “I should have known her nonsense on the street would not go unnoticed. Running away from me like that! She is just as silly as her sisters. I cannot think how I was so deceived as to imagine her different.”
“I think the running was less telling than the yelling was,” said Lady Matlock with mild reproof. “Saye tells us you scolded her right in the middle of the street, and then her uncle as well.”
“Bellowed is more the term,” said Saye with a smirk. “Like a farmer calling the cows in.”
“Yes, well…” Darcy shook his head. “I cannot abide this. If she thinks me such a joke, then pray do leave me alone.”
“To be fair, she did not say it was you who was the joke,” Saye observed. “She said she thought it would be a joke to accept you.”
“Same thing.”
“Except it is not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Boys,” said Lady Matlock. “Enough of that. It does not signify, joke, not a joke, bellowing, running…the point is that a scene was made and ferocious tattle has ensued. I would not concern myself for it, generally, but Lady Jersey mentioned it to me and you know those ladies have long memories. I would not wish Georgiana to be refused entry into Almack’s for fear her brother might behave in an unseemly manner. ”
Utterly unbelievable. This was where Elizabeth Bennet had brought him. He, who had always behaved with decorum, had always avoided gossip! If he had not loathed her before, he surely did now, his rage like a bonfire in his chest.
“I do not know what to say,” Darcy finally acknowledged. “I suppose it will die down?—”
Saye leant forwards, looking serious again. “The word is that she is with child and that you are refusing to do the honourable thing. Everyone who saw you at Bromley reports you were travelling together and said, at that time, you were engaged, so to now say you are not…even Raggett is concerned.”
Darcy’s eyebrows flew up on his head. George Raggett, a new owner of White’s, was a notorious stickler for avoiding scandal.
When he had taken possession of the property, he had proclaimed in the newspapers that any man who did not truly act the gentleman would be refused membership, no matter how wealthy he was, nor what title he bore.
And he meant it. The ranks had already been cleared of more than one dissolute nobleman.
Darcy thought he would rather die than face the shame of Raggett deeming him ungentleman-like.
“Obviously she is not with child. My conduct has been unimpeachable where the lady is concerned.”
Saye shrugged. “The court of public opinion is all the more tricky because one never knows where or when they convene.” Lady Matlock murmured her assent beside him and nodded her head.
“I cannot see what there is for me to do about it. Unfounded gossip is flying about on the basis of an argument on the street! How am I to answer for that? How does one clear one’s name when it is wrongly besmirched?”
“By marrying her,” said Lady Matlock gently. “Quickly. And then spend the Season showing everyone just how in love you are.”
Darcy barked out an incredulous laugh then rose to his feet. He took himself to the fireplace where he leant on the mantelpiece with both hands, his eyes closed. “You cannot be in earnest,” he said without opening his eyes or turning his head.
“You love her, yes?” Saye enquired .
“I despise her.”
“Spite is nothing more than love which took a wrong turn,” Saye replied.
Darcy turned, prepared to glare Saye into a pile of ash, but was met by too much sympathy in his cousin’s and aunt’s looks to carry through with it.
They were interrupted then by Mrs Hobbs and the tea cart. “Almond cake,” Saye cried out happily. “Mrs Hobbs, you do hold my heart in your hands.”
Mrs Hobbs chuckled and turned pink. Against his own will, Darcy too smiled. Saye, snobbish as he was, was always good to the servants. All his outlandish and impossible requests were accompanied by the appropriate coins, and thus they adored him.
As they would Elizabeth. The faint smile which had come to his lips faded.
He slowly returned to the seats where Saye had taken over cutting slices of the cake, much to his mother’s amusement. “If I do the cutting,” he explained to them, “then I get as much as I like. Ladies are rather stinting when it comes to cuts of cake.”
Darcy sat and his aunt handed him a large piece of the cake. “His lordship thinks he might be able to secure a special licence for you. It could be done quickly and quietly with very little bother to you,” Lady Matlock informed him, as if the conclusion she wished for had been reached.
Perhaps it had at that. What else could he do? Yes, he had behaved ridiculously—Elizabeth Bennet had made him ridiculous—and now there were consequences.
“Do you truly not think it might just… You know how it is, there is always another scandal.”
“There is,” Saye owned. “But this one is too delectable to be rapidly put aside, and in the meanwhile, the damage caused to your name and reputation might be irrevocable.”
Lady Matlock handed him a cup of tea with an encouraging smile. “Just as you like it, dear.”
“Thank you,” he replied and took a large swallow. It burnt his tongue and the back of his throat, but he did not care. “How am I to marry a woman who thinks so little of me?”
“How can you not?” Saye enquired. “This sort of gossip affects us all, most notably Georgiana. If you were removed from the club…”
It did not bear thinking of. He could not imagine that it would really happen that way…but then again, neither could he rule it out.
“We will arrange everything for you,” said Lady Matlock. “And once you are married, I shall have a ball for her.”
“No,” Darcy said immediately. “No balls. No…nothing of that sort, I beg you. We will go to Pemberley, or perhaps I will. She can remain here.”
“No, no, no,” said Lady Matlock. “You miss our meaning entirely. You must allow the ton to think you and Elizabeth are in love .”
“You think too much of my acting abilities,” Darcy retorted. “And hers. No, forget I said that. I must say, Elizabeth herself is proficient.”
“And so must yours be. There is no sense doing it if you will not try. Coldness between you can only fan the flames,” Lady Matlock said patiently.
“I simply do not think myself capable of such a disguise.”
“My aunt had another solution to the problem,” Saye offered. “You could always marry Anne.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Why are they still here? Should they not be hastening back to Kent for fear the London air will materially damage my cousin?”
“Anne wished to remain in town,” Lady Matlock replied. “It is unusual, to be sure, but…it is possible they still think you might propose to her.”
Darcy laughed, bitterly. “Am I really so far down as that?”
“No.” Lady Matlock rose with a smile and a swish of her skirts, then bent to kiss his forehead before he could stand. “I shall do everything in my power to assist you and the new Mrs Darcy.”