Page 34

D arcy pulled on his breeches, having washed in the cold water left in the basin from last night. Dawn was barely lightening the sky, but he could not stay in bed longer.

If his horse was not quite ready, he could finish the job himself, and get to Rotten Row before the rest of society had stirred. A good gallop might help expunge the thoughts of Lady Elizabeth from his mind.

He groaned as he tied his cravat, his haunted gaze taunting him in the mirror. Previous days’ gallops had not removed her from his mind and his heart.

But he must conquer it; he must. Not only was she a duke’s daughter, but she was an Osborne. Even if the duke could be persuaded to allow her to marry outside her family, or the wider aristocracy, he would never permit an alliance with a Darcy.

The stables were warm and busy. He finished brushing down the animal, which whickered and nuzzled his shoulder. He straightened, and patted it. “A good gallop, old chap. Just what we both need.”

A groom appeared with the saddle, and Darcy swung it up and over onto the horse’s back. Making sure the saddlecloth was not creased under the saddle, Darcy tightened the girth and tested the stirrups, while the groom bridled the animal.

“There ye be, Mr. Darcy, sir. He be all ready for ye.”

Darcy nodded and led it out. He didn’t bother with the mounting block, swinging himself up easily with his arms, and the horse circled eagerly on a tight rein while he settled himself in the saddle.

Soon he was trotting along towards the park, only a few early servants and workers to be seen.

As he’d hoped, Rotten Row was empty and he could gallop freely, the divots of beaten earth flying up from the animal’s hooves, and turn fast at the far end, by Buckingham House, and gallop back.

There was no one to get in the way, no one who had to be acknowledged politely. The weak early sun still managed to glitter from the surface of the Serpentine, and Darcy had to push everything from his mind.

When the horse tired, he drew it to a walk, patted its neck and began to make his way home.

He would feel calmer now, able to concentrate on Georgiana when she joined him at breakfast. But he doubted the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet would leave him long in peace.

He read the paper during his breakfast until his sister slipped into the room.

“Good morning, William!” She seemed cheerful and content with being in town.

Darcy rose to his feet and bowed. “Good morning, Georgiana. I hope you slept well?”

“Oh yes, very well indeed.” She took her seat and nodded at the footman to pour her tea.

“It was quite a day yesterday at Matlock House. Cousin Susannah brought the children round. It was fun, but baby David is getting so naughty now he is crawling everywhere.” She laughed.

“You ought to come and meet them more often.”

Darcy suppressed a shudder. He had never liked the thought of lively children, although he knew he must produce an heir to relieve Georgiana of that responsibility. Pemberley would be a great temptation to an unscrupulous man.

A picture intruded into his mind — several small children climbing into Elizabeth’s lap as she gathered them to her, smiling her joy at them.

He swallowed; if they were her — their — children, he would be happy for them to be lively and mischievous, as she was.

“William?” Georgiana sounded puzzled, and he realised he had missed her comment.

“I’m sorry, dear sister, I was distracted.”

“It’s no matter,” she looked anxious. “I was just asking if we could go to the theatre next week. Romeo and Juliet is on at Drury Lane.”

Two feuding families, and a young person from each family unable to show their love. The story pierced his heart.

But while he could now acknowledge he loved Lady Elizabeth, she didn’t love him. How could she? And if he pursued her now, she would think he only didn’t disdain her any longer because of her position in society. Regret filled him. How could he have ever felt she was beneath him?

“It doesn’t matter.” Georgiana’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts again. “I can tell you have much on your mind.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Georgiana. Of course we can go to the theatre next week. Perhaps we will ask Richard to join us, and maybe our other cousins. It will make a merry party.”

After they’d finished eating, he retired to his library to read his post.

A blotchy letter from Bingley caught his attention, especially as it had been sent down from Pemberley. Of course, Bingley had been on his wedding tour, so Darcy hadn’t written to him recently.

He reached for the letter and broke the seal.

Afterwards, he sat quietly for a while. He was glad Bingley was happy in his marriage; he would wish for the same felicity for himself.

Sighing, he went to the writing desk and drew a sheet of paper towards him.

He could not hope for the same for himself unless he could first forget those fine eyes, dancing with mischief.

Or that dainty elfin figure, walking out briskly across the fields.

No, he shook his head. To forget her, he ought to stay away from Netherfield. But he knew he may well fail in that determination. She would not be there, he knew.

But he might hear news of her from her sister, although Bingley had made no reference to the change of status of his new sister-in-law.

Darcy would not refer to it, of course, not until he knew they were aware of it — although surely they must be.

Lady Elizabeth would not have failed to inform her sister.

Darcy smiled wryly. Miss Bingley would now be delighted at her brother’s marriage to a lady with such eligible connections. He shuddered. Even more reason to stay away from that woman. He reached for his pen.

Bingley

Thank you for your letter of the 12 th , which has just reached me at Darcy House. I am delighted to hear that you and Mrs. Bingley have had such a successful tour and have settled back at Netherfield Park.

I thank you for your and Mrs. Bingley’s open invitation to stay with you whenever I wish, and I will certainly take advantage of the opportunity to see you, my friend. I am sure we have much to discuss.

I have some commitments in town, so will not arrive immediately, but you can be sure I will visit soon.

He looked wryly at what he’d written. So much for his determination to stay away from all memories of her.