Page 53 of Count the Cost (The Secrets of Elizabeth Bennet #2)

T hat evening, Darcy strolled round to Matlock House.

It was not far, and the weather seemed settled.

He knew his uncle would not like it, but Darcy could not summon up the affectation of having four horses and five men taken from the warmth of the stables or lodgings to drive him a little over two hundred yards along Brook Street and into Grosvenor Square.

And then wait around for him to return. He would not do it.

But it angered his uncle. “You must keep up appearances, Darcy! You know who your mother was. The family name will be cheapened if you do not keep to society’s expectations!”

It mattered not. Darcy would do what he felt was right.

He was not looking forward to this evening.

His mind was full of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and until he knew what he ought to do, or what he wanted to do, or what was even possible to do — he reminded himself that she said she did not wish to marry — then he did not wish to discuss the situation. He hoped the subject would not arise.

The butler bowed. “Do come in, Mr. Darcy.” The man beckoned to the bewigged footman, who took Darcy’s greatcoat, cane, hat and gloves, and the butler took over and preceded him to the drawing room, where he opened the door and announced him.

Darcy did not care for such formality as this; he no longer did it at Pemberley unless he had guests and would not wish to marry where a wife might reinstate it.

He smiled to himself. Miss Elizabeth Bennet wasn’t used to even minimal formality; he recalled his shock at being waved towards a room where theatrical chaos reigned. No, she wouldn’t mind at all. And he knew he did not, either.

Well, perhaps a little more decorum from the younger daughters and Mrs. Bennet.

But the love and acceptance of all members of the family — he wanted that with a soul-searing longing.

He believed that with Miss Elizabeth beside him, he could be truly happy.

Georgiana would be, too, and she would grow in confidence.

“Darcy! It is good to see you.” His aunt greeted him graciously, and he crossed the room, and bowed over her hand. “I thank you for the invitation, Aunt Alice. I hope you are well?”

She nodded, and his uncle nodded at him, too. “Darcy. I am grateful to you for the information you gained at the Bedford house party.” He raised his eyebrows. “I gather Lady Bedford was very pleased you attended.”

“Oh, ho!” Richard laughed from the depths of the armchair he was settled in. “Did the lady have expectations of you?”

David chuckled from the chair next to his wife, and Darcy glanced over at him.

He did not have the same close relationship with his eldest cousin as he did with Richard, but he was on perfectly cordial terms with the Viscount.

“David.” Then he turned to the Viscountess.

“Cousin Susannah. I am pleased to see you. I hope the children are well.”

“I thank you, they are. Is Georgiana not with you today?”

Darcy inclined his head. “She sends her apologies. She is indisposed this evening and remains in her chambers.” He knew the tips of his ears were tinged red; he would rather go hungry than mention female indisposition to mixed company.

He was pleased when dinner was announced, and they went through to the dining room. He was seated opposite and a seat further down from Richard; it appeared his aunt did not want them in quiet conversation, and he steeled himself to be polite.

“Talking of the house party, Darcy, didn’t you say at the theatre that you’d met Miss Bennet there?” Richard’s eyes were full of mischief, and Darcy muttered under his breath.

“Yes.” Then he turned to David.

“How is the Renham estate managing this winter?”

David shook his head at him. “I don’t think a diversion will work, Darcy. I feel sorry for you, Richard has been cooking this ambush for some time.”

“Perhaps I ought to make my excuses and return to see how Georgiana fares.” Darcy was annoyed. He did not want to be here if Richard was going to sabotage him like this.

“Sit down, Darcy.” His uncle was not about to allow him to escape. “I was hoping you might discover an interest in one of the Bedford girls. It would be helpful to have a connection there. But tell me who this Miss Bennet is.”

Darcy sighed. “I expect Richard will tell you.” He regretted his comment a moment later, as his cousin leaned forward to speak. He had the attention of everyone at the table.

“I forced Darcy to come to the theatre with me back in October. It was a week after the house party and he had not yet left the house. You remember, Mother. You asked me to drag him back into society.” He chuckled richly.

“I was exceedingly interested when he could not keep his eyes off the Abingdon box opposite all evening!”

Uncle Henry’s eyebrows went up. “Which member of that family was present?”

“The dowager countess with some guests, including the aforementioned Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” Richard smirked, and Darcy wished he could silence him somehow.

“And just who is Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” The earl looked over at Darcy, silencing his younger son with a wave of his hand.

Darcy drew a deep breath. He would keep the information factual and to the point, and must seem totally disinterested.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet is the second of five daughters of a minor gentleman in Hertfordshire. There is no son, and the estate is entailed away to a distant cousin.” He looked steadily at his uncle.

“And he happens to be Lady Catherine’s new parson. ”

Richard howled with laughter. “I didn’t know that,” he chortled, and his father glared at him.

“Manners, Richard.”

Darcy carried on as if there had been no interruption.

“I met the Bennet family while I was staying with Bingley at his newly-leased estate, which happens to border onto Longbourn, the Bennet’s estate.

” He might as well give it to them plain and unvarnished.

They would know soon enough. “The Bennet family have held the land for several centuries. However, Mrs. Bennet is the younger daughter of a local solicitor. A more vulgar, loud and unmannered woman it would be hard to find. Her youngest daughters are equally as loud and vulgar. Her brother is in trade, although he and his wife are genteel and fashionable, wouldn’t you say, Richard?

They were accompanying their niece with Lady Palmer. ”

“Yes,” Richard nodded. “Mrs. Gardiner grew up in Lambton and remembers Aunt Anne.”

“Gardiner!” Aunt Alice was startled. “Of Gardiner’s Emporium?”

Darcy nodded.

“But they are still in trade!” Uncle Henry barked. “This Miss Bennet — well! Richard seems to be implying you are interested in her. You cannot ally yourself with a young woman who is allied to trade!”

Aunt Alice shot a warning look at her husband. “What is their connection with Lady Palmer, Darcy?”

“When they arrived together at the house party, she told me that they had only recently discovered the connection. She is a great-niece on Lady Palmer’s father’s side.”

“The duke!” His uncle was obviously startled. Then he shook his head. “Such distant connections are not important, nephew. The immediate family is a serious problem.”

Darcy leaned back as the second remove began. The food was always good here, and he regretted that he could barely remember what he had just eaten.

As they started on the third course, Aunt Alice looked at him, a soft smile on her features. “What is she like, Darcy?”

Before he could draw breath, Richard interrupted. “She is amazing, Mother. Beautiful, witty, charming and intelligent. Her eyes sparkled with life and impertinence.”

Aunt’s eyebrows rose, and Darcy knew she had caught his expression before he could correct it.

“If even the thought of her makes you look like that, Darcy, then she is perfect for you.”

“She has close connections with trade, Alice. It would be insupportable to recognise her.” His uncle was going redder and redder by the minute.

Darcy shrugged. “The discussion is moot. Miss Bennet is not in the market for a husband.”

The silence was profound.

Quietly, in his chambers late that night, Darcy sat with a measure of whisky in his glass, the house silent around him, the candle casting flickering shadows on the familiar room.

The evening had gone as he thought it would, although Richard owed him a match at Angelo’s soon for raising the issue like that. He scowled.

After a few minutes, though, he softened as he remembered his aunt’s farewell.

She had inclined her cheek for his kiss, and whispered to him.

“If you are set on her, Darcy, do not let my husband browbeat you. I can manage him. A young lady who can make you happy is precious beyond measure, no matter what her background.”

He had thanked her and escaped before the lump in his throat could make itself felt further. Her words had stirred hope within him. But even hope, he thought, could not be trusted when much of the world would be as disapproving as Uncle Henry.

But could it ever be? Miss Bennet had been adamant that she did not want a husband. She had refused Talbot, the heir to his family estate. And Bingley had written to him, saying she had refused Collins, despite her mother’s fury.

He smiled. Perhaps that was why she was in London with her aunt and uncle. It had been clear at the theatre that she was very fond of them.

Would she welcome a third offer of marriage? Were her previous refusals because the individuals were not to her taste, or because she was determined on her course?

No, despite what his aunt had said, her situation was a problem. He doubted Aunt Alice really understood their vulgarity.

He considered Mr. Bennet. His family had been landowners for generations. Then he had married the daughter of a solicitor — and look at the family’s behaviour!

He slammed the glass down on the side table. No! Miss Elizabeth was not like that. Mrs. Bennet must have been a silly, vulgar female before she married. He frowned, wondering what Bennet could have seen in her. Her looks, he supposed. Miss Bennet was very like her.

Later still, tossing and turning in his bed, he wondered whether Miss Elizabeth’s determination had been due to the influence of observing her parents’ marriage. Perhaps she could be reminded that her uncle and aunt were happy with each other?

But did she — could she — belong in his world? Did he have a chance at winning her? Did he want to? He did not know.

Perhaps his heart did. The next morning, he could recall his dreams of her. Dreams, he knew, but they lingered; like misty images in the distance.

Walking with him around the lake at Pemberley, smiling at him from the opposite end of the dining table.

Most importantly of all, he could still see the large portrait of her, luminously beautiful at his side, his own features contented and happy.

There were several children in the portrait.

Darcy couldn’t see them clearly, but he knew they would look just like her and have the same joy in their lives as she did.

He could think of no one he would rather have in his life.

Despite her situation.