Page 19 of Count the Cost (The Secrets of Elizabeth Bennet #2)
D arcy rose to his feet as his uncle was announced into his study. “Uncle Henry, this is a surprise. Do come in. Shall I order refreshments, or will you have a drink?” He gestured towards the decanter tray.
“Evening, Darcy.” His uncle nodded at him. “Coffee, I think, if you can spare me a few minutes.”
“Certainly.” Darcy rang the bell, and joined his uncle by the fire. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
A sardonic eyebrow told him his uncle was quite well aware that Darcy enjoyed a quiet evening alone with his books, and his call was not an unalloyed pleasure.
“You don’t think I wanted to see you without an ulterior motive?”
Darcy waited as the servant brought the coffee, and once they were alone again, smiled wryly. “It is, of course possible. But it has never happened before, so I think it unlikely.”
His uncle sighed. “There never seems to be enough time for calls like that, Darcy. And I will confess that once again, I have a favour to ask of you.”
“I am at your service, as you know.”
“I know. And I appreciate it, although this may be more onerous than you would like. But it is of consequence otherwise I wouldn’t wish to trouble you.
” He let out a heavy sigh. “Bedford is holding a short house party from next week. It’s only for ten days and is ostensibly because his twin girls are not really ready for their debut in the spring. ”
Darcy nodded. He knew what was coming now and tried to think of a prior engagement he might be able to claim.
This was certainly nothing he wanted to be a part of.
“Uncle, you know that I am not the right person to attempt to change someone’s mind politically.
Why not send Richard? My cousin knows what people are thinking before they know themselves! ”
“I know you don’t want to go, Darcy, and I’m sorry.
You know I can’t send Richard. It would be too obvious that I have sent him for information.
” He stopped to drink his coffee, his eyes on Darcy, who kept his expression impassive.
“I am not asking you to change his opinions, just to listen and see if you can fathom his current stance.”
Darcy put his own cup down, rather more forcefully than he meant to.
“What can be so important that I need to suffer this? And I am well-known as your nephew just as Richard is as your son!” With a sinking feeling, he knew he would have to go.
His aunt and uncle had been the one secure part of their lives — he and Georgiana — during the terrible years after the loss of his mother and then his father, and the years since as he struggled to learn to manage his estate and find out who was to be trusted and who was not, as greedy men thought to take advantage of an inexperienced young man.
No. He owed the Fitzwilliam family far too much to even think of refusing.
Less than a week later, Darcy scowled as he contemplated the next day and the journey north.
The short autumnal days meant he could not do the hundred miles in one day, not without arriving too late for politeness.
So he would not need to start too early and would break his journey at Northampton.
What a waste of his time and energy this whole thing would be.
It would not be difficult to find out what his uncle wanted to know.
Bedford would have no compunction talking about politics over the port after dinner.
Darcy wouldn’t even have to show any particular interest, just listen.
But his main concern was the usual crop of young beauties who would see him as their rightful prey.
He smiled slightly; there would be complaints from whoever had the suites near him.
He would have Maunder sleep on a cot in his chambers.
Nothing else could protect him from any attempted compromise as effectively as the presence of his valet.
It was just a pity the man snored abominably.
He leaned back and closed his eyes as he waited for it to be time to retire.
The house was quiet. Georgiana had moved back to Matlock House again to stay with them while he was out of town, and the silence was oppressive.
His mind traitorously went back to Hertfordshire.
Silences were never so heavy as this when the impertinent Miss Elizabeth Bennet flashed those eyes at him and teased him.
Very fine eyes. It was a pity she was merely the daughter of an insignificant country squire.
If her connections and fortune had been any better, he might well have been tempted to make an attempt to change her mind about not looking for a husband.
He smiled slightly: it had been a relief — and most refreshing — to converse with a young unmarried lady without seeing a speculative look in her eye.
Suddenly he jumped to his feet with an exclamation. He must stop thinking about her. She was who she was. She had another life — here in London — that didn’t include him. And he could hardly seek her out at her uncle’s warehouse.
No, he must turn his mind to this dreadful house party.
He wondered who else might be there. Talbot, he thought.
His old school acquaintance was a pleasant fellow, too unhappy at his father’s good health to stay at his family estate.
He would be good for the occasional game of billiards to avoid the ladies.
He glanced at the clock, he supposed he could go to bed. Maybe he could leave the mischievous memory of Miss Elizabeth downstairs, although he had not yet found a book that could hold his attention enough for that.