Page 20 of Fitzwilliam Darcy An Honourable Man

The ball continues

Leaving this madness was beginning to appear to be the only solution. The Fitzwilliams had invited scores of people who were unfamiliar to William due to his two-year absence from society, and his aunt, with single-minded purpose, had insisted on personally introducing him to half of them. The other half insisted on introducing themselves—and their single daughters.

Mrs. Preston had at last been led away, albeit unwillingly, by Lord Farthington, but Lady Waltham and Lady Leighton were determined to stay close by William, who flatly refused to dwell on the number of other women, married and widowed, who had offered suggestions for his afternoons in the coming week. Sometimes, it seemed as if it was pointless to leave Darcy House when he was in town.

Richard blew out a deep breath as the latest debutante and her mother ambled away, disappointed. “What does that make ...ten ...twelve? I swear I do not know how, with that scowl, you attract so many mothers and fathers with marriageable daughters!”

Glancing to William, he did not find the customary smile at his jest. Instead, his cousin appeared to be in lower spirits than he had ever seen him, so he tried another tack. “Some of them would do nicely for me, you know. What do they think I am? A vagabond?”

Finally William chuckled a little. “I am sorry, Richard. I realise that I have not been good company. This cannot have been a very pleasant evening for you. Why do you not ask that young lady you have been smiling at all night to dance? I shall be fine.”

Richard lifted one brow and leaned in to whisper. “You promise to stay in plain view, so I can assure that you are not accosted by my demented sister—or your demented ex-lover—while I take a turn with Mrs. Largin?”

William grimaced at Richard’s language but recognised that, essentially, he was correct. Instead of bothering to comment, he enquired about another matter entirely—“Mrs.? The lady you have been paying your attentions to is married?”

“Of course not! She is a widow with two small children and, yes, she is older than she looks!”

William turned to get a better look at the tall woman with light-brown hair that his cousin had been keeping in his line of vision even as he tried to be discreet. “Far be it from me—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I know you were thinking she looks very young. She does not look a day over four and twenty, but she is thirty. Her husband, a member of my prior unit, was killed a year or so ago in an accident, and I accompanied his body home. I was reintroduced to her last week when she was with one of mother’s many friends at the theatre. The only good thing to come from mother’s many introductions!”

“Ah! Then why are you waiting? Go!” William replied, pushing Richard towards the woman.

“Well, if you think ...” Richard turned to find the lady who had captured his interest standing only a few feet away, smiling shyly at him. He moved closer and bowed. “Mrs. Largin, I had hoped that you would save me a set.”

“Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam, you should not have doubted,” the pretty woman replied. “Did I not say that I would?”

Richard held out his arm, and she placed her slim hand upon it, captivating him with her sparkling blue eyes as they moved towards the dance floor. Taking their places in line, the looks on their faces made William smile in spite of himself and his thoughts turned to the one that he missed most severely. What he would not give for Elizabeth to look at him that way!

Lost in watching Richard and the widow, it was a moment before he realised that other women had noticed that he was stripped of his guard. Looking around to see every eye following him, William began searching the room for his aunt when his gaze fell on Lady Waltham. Her come-hither look caused him to take a frustrating breath and turn to go in the opposite direction—almost running into Lady Leighton in his haste to escape.

“My goodness! Who are you fleeing, Fitzwilliam?” Jacqueline Fitzwilliam’s voice was low and seductive, her smile calculating, as her eyes danced gleefully between William and Lady Waltham.

An image of her came to William from out of the blue . Like a spider cornering a fly. Suddenly he had had enough of being polite. Not bothering to address her question, he declared haughtily, “What concern is it of yours, madam?”

“Come now? Madam? Why so formal? After all, we are cousins.” As she spoke, her jealous green eyes slowly travelled down his body and back up before coming to rest on his light blue ones. She leaned in to whisper sensually, “Care to look over the library while Edgar is dancing with his mother? There is something I would love to show you.”

William drew himself up to his full six feet, two inches, not bothering to conceal his displeasure. “I assure you, madam , there is nothing that you have that interests me!” Abruptly stepping around her, he walked away, leaving the crowd surrounding them tittering and staring.

Instead of being angry at his rejection, now Lady Leighton definitely resembled the spider William had conjured only moments before—only this spider wore a smile. This is perfect. He must still be attracted to me, or he would not be afraid to meet me alone.

Refusing to be intimidated, Jacqueline unashamedly met every eye in the circle that stood round about her, until she came to Lady Waltham’s questioning gaze and openly smirked. To that woman who dared try to gain Fitzwilliam’s attention, she nodded knowingly before heading in the direction of the refreshment table.

And that aging whore need not think she is any competition for me.

~~~*~~~

Lady Gwendolyn Waltham was elated that she had managed to attend the ball without being escorted by the count. Fortunately, he had business to attend out of Town and would be gone for another day, so she had come with friends. Count Francesco was an accomplished lover with many and varied skills, she had to admit, but she still had reservations about him. For all his talk of wealth and property, he rented a residence in Town that could not compare to Darcy House—or Matlock House, for that matter. She had been inside both of those homes and their opulence was almost beyond compare. If she were to ever marry again, this was the type of wealth to which she would aspire—old money, hopefully tucked inside a younger man’s breeches.

The count always bragged of his father’s estate in northern England and his mother’s property in Italy, but from the gossip circulating in Town, little was known that would confirm his wealth, and she was not willing to risk her future on mere speculation, even if the count was a good lover. Thus, when she learned that Fitzwilliam Darcy had returned to London and would be at the ball tonight, she knew she simply must garner an invitation to attend.

After all, Fitzwilliam was the more handsome of the two—and much younger. She was convinced that she could entice him into her bed once more and then claim she was with child. Honourable man that he was, he would, of course, insist on marriage to legitimize his heir. She smiled. This time his father would not be there to save him!

Recalling the chatter that spread throughout the ballroom when she arrived with her friends, Gwendolyn smiled. It was satisfying to know that every eye in the room had focused on her, just as when she was younger. The only difference was that she could no longer hold their interest over the course of an evening. The younger men eventually returned to the simpering debutantes and the henpecked husbands to their controlling wives. The rest—men eager for scintillating company—had once been her exclusive domain. Now she had to share them with the likes of Jacqueline Fitzwilliam.

She consoled herself with the thought that there was really only one man she deeply desired—Fitzwilliam Darcy. When she was not dancing, she stayed close by him, looking for the opportunity to speak privately. Therefore, it was with a sense of great satisfaction that she witnessed the unpleasant confrontation between Lady Leighton and William. Seeing William challenge Jacqueline, Gwendolyn had looked around.

Surely that idiot husband of Jacqueline’s saw it, too!

Running her eyes over the crowd, she found the viscount with his mother and father in a far corner, surrounded by guests. They seemed blissfully ignorant of the drama that had just played out. Annoyed, her eyes came to rest on Richard. He was engrossed in conversation with his dance partner. With the colonel occupied and Jacqueline rebuffed, this might be her only opportunity .

She began to follow her objet d’amour through the crowd, losing sight of him for a moment before catching a glimpse of his head clearing the doorway to the terrace. Quickly she made her way to the same door and, seeing no one watching, slipped out after him. There was no one on the terrace. She turned in a circle. Nothing. She was pondering the situation when a dog’s bark caught her attention, and she looked to see a dark, ghostlike figure striding across the lawn, towards a gazebo. She knew that confident stride, and so she followed.

Caught up in his thoughts, William had no idea anyone was behind him as he reached the structure. Wearily he slumped down onto one of the benches and began to rub his forehead, trying to stave off a threatening headache. There was enough moonlight to illuminate a pair of swans on the pond behind the structure, and he became engrossed in their graceful movements, oblivious to all else. The swans were performing mating rituals, their heads bobbing up and down in a dance as old as the rhythm of the sea.

“Even they realise they need a mate.”

Recognising that voice, he stood abruptly. Neither could see clearly in the shroud of the gazebo, so his scowl was not evident to Gwendolyn as she continued, “You must have seen that I was following you.”

William had to quell his temper before attempting to reply, so Gwendolyn took this as an invitation to come closer. “I take it you do not disapprove of my presence.”

Before William could move or reply, a sharp screech rang out. “Just what the devil do you think you are doing?” Lady Leighton hurried up the steps and stomped across to push herself in between William and Lady Waltham.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Lady Waltham retorted, moving to stand only inches from her rival. Face-to-face they argued.

“What right have you to follow my cousin like a common whore?”

“Whore? You call me a whore? At least I am not married! What would happen if your fool of a husband found you here?”

“You have no right to question me. What Fitzwilliam and I share is private—between family.”

“Family? Is that what you call it?”

“This is ridiculous!” William interjected. “Both of you must leave at once!”

He grew more livid as the two women kept arguing, paying no attention to his attempts to quiet them. Fearing that shortly other guests would hear their bellows and they would all be exposed, he stepped between them.

“Enough! What must I say to convince you that I do not desire to keep company with either of you?!”

A military commander’s voice rang out in the darkness. “What the deuce are you women doing?” Richard stepped up to grab each of the harridans by an arm, looking from one to the other.

“I am personally escorting you both to the house this minute. You will go inside as though you are the best of friends who stepped out for a bit of air ... together. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

In the face of his anger and authoritarian behaviour, both ladies nodded. Immediately, he jerked them roughly towards the house, one on either side. They had to walk briskly to keep up with his long strides and when he reached the terrace, he halted abruptly.

“You will lock arms and start your charade, or so help me God ...” They shrunk back.

“NOW!” he barked, pushing them forward. He observed them as they re-entered the room, giving a performance worthy of the London stage. Lady Matlock was just inside the door and glowered as they passed, then hurried out onto the terrace to address her son.

Running a hand along Richard’s cheek, she noticed that he was trying to calm himself by taking deep breaths. “Are you well, my boy?”

He kissed her fingers and smiled wryly. “I am now, Mother. In fact, I rather enjoyed confronting those two.”

“And Fitzwilliam?”

“I shall find him and make certain he is well.”

“I hated to interrupt your evening to ask you to intervene. You looked as though you were thoroughly enjoying Mrs. Largin’s company, and I must add that she seems a fine person.”

“Mrs. Largin is a wonderful woman, and I very much enjoyed our dance, but I failed in my duty to my cousin. I should never have left Darce alone. I should have known that one or both of those vipers would pounce at the first opportunity and I regret giving it to them.”

“No, no. It is not your fault. I should never have asked you to forego your pleasure to guard your cousin. You are entitled to enjoy yourself. It is the fault of those—those—I cannot bear to call them ‘ladies!’ Would that they would leave the poor boy alone!”

“I fear that is not likely to happen as long as Darce is unmarried and possibly not even then. I have never seen anything like the effect my dour cousin has on women.” He shook his head in wonderment.

“And he is totally unaware of it. How he resists all that—” Realising who he was speaking to, Richard stopped abruptly. “I am sorry, Mother. I did not mean to be crass. I will just say that the man is a saint!”

“We must convince him to marry soon, Richard.”

“We will need plenty of luck for that! Now,” he leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead, “if you will keep an eye on those two, I shall see how Darce is faring.”

Netherfield

Caroline Bingley was more than miffed. She had arrived in this Godforsaken country weeks ago, only to learn that Mr. Darcy had already returned to Pemberley. Had she known that the gentleman from Derbyshire would not be in Meryton, she would have stayed in Town. As it was, her sister and brother, the Hursts, had taken the opportunity of her absence to plan an extended visit with his relatives in Sussex. They did not intend on returning to London for months, effectively abandoning her to the heathens.

For days after she arrived, she had held out hope that a reciprocal invitation would be issued for the Bingleys to visit Mr. Darcy’s estate—naturally, she would travel with them. But alas, none came, even though she had glimpsed letters in Mr. Darcy’s elegant script being delivered to Charles. To make matters worse, Charles had actually asked her to help with that brat, Peter, because his angel, mealy-mouthed Jane, was with child. Again! Lord, did they not know what caused that!

A most unladylike snort from one of her guests drew her attention back to the present and the occupants of the drawing room—the most disgusting people she had ever met—the Bennets.

“ How utterly cruel to be exiled here with these chits!”

Lydia snorted as she slapped Kitty’s leg. “La! I would much rather be in Town. At least there are men in red coats there.” This set off a new round of guffaws between the two of them.

Mrs. Bennet ignored her daughters’ banter, preferring to whine. “I should like to go to London, but my brother is not very accommodating anymore. I have told my Jane that she should insist Mr. Bingley buy a house in Town. Then, at least, I could spend part of the season there.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed, and she was about to disabuse Mrs. Bennet of that notion in language even she could understand when her brother walked briskly back into the room. “I am sorry, madam, but I have checked on my wife, and she is still asleep. She will not be receiving company today.”

Mrs. Bennet stood, waving her handkerchief about. “Well, I shall just see about that!” She started towards the door, but Charles stepped in front, effectively halting her progress.

“Mrs. Bennet, I must ask you to leave my wife to her rest. She is truly unable to receive you or her sisters. Perhaps if you will come back in a few days ...” His voice trailed off, but his cold eyes never left hers.

Mrs. Bennet could feel Mr. Bingley’s animosity, though she was not sure just why he was angry. “I—I suppose I must. Tell Jane I shall return on Saturday.”

Then she addressed her other children. “Come along, girls. There is still time to visit Mary.” She glared at Bingley. “At least I have one married child who always wants to see her mother.”

The two youngest girls clapped and jumped up with glee, ready to leave. Since Mary had married Toby Faulk, Mr. Phillips' clerk, and moved into the small cottage behind the law firm, there had been more opportunities for trips into town than ever before. Mrs. Bennet began moving towards the door before remembering Caroline. She looked back over her shoulder.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Bingley. We shall see you again soon, I hope.” She bobbed a curtsy.

Good Lord, not another visit! “You are welcome I am sure, madam.” The words almost stuck in Caroline throat.

She watched as her brother escorted them to the door, as though he was making sure that they left. When he returned to the room, Charles turned to regard her.

“Caroline, I will be having dinner with my wife in our rooms tonight. I shall see you in the morning.” With those terse words, he stalked off.

Caroline followed him with her eyes as he mounted the stairs and quickly disappeared above. She was absolutely amazed at the change in her once docile brother. When did he become so quarrelsome?

Recovering from her wool-gathering, she realised there were no servants about, so she took the familiar key from her pocket and studied it. Dear Jane had not even noticed its disappearance from her dressing table weeks before. Caroline considered with a smirk that Jane’s indisposition must have affected her memory.

She suppressed a smile as she moved stealthily through the halls, not stopping until she stood at the door to her brother’s study. Glancing left and then right, she slid the key into the lock, opened the door and slipped inside. Locking it behind her, she moved to sit in the large chair behind Charles’ desk. Weeks ago she had been relieved to find the desk unlocked, as that had afforded her the opportunity to read all his business papers and correspondence. After all, she reasoned, she might have to depend on Charles’ support for the rest of her life—well, that was if she did not secure Mr. Darcy. Thus, she needed to know the particulars of her brother’s holdings.

Caroline felt a little thrill at defying Charles in this manner. He had gotten stricter and stricter with her allowance, and God forbid if she should say anything untoward about dear Jane or that Peter. He had no tolerance for any perceived slight to his wife or child, so she had had to watch her every move. Knowing that she was doing something that he would definitely not approve of empowered her; it was almost as good as talking back to him.

For a long moment, she enjoyed the feeling of power that came from being in his chair. Then she leaned forward to move the papers about on the desk. Suddenly a bit of familiar handwriting caught her eye. Once she had spent an entire afternoon watching Mr. Darcy write letters of business, so she was well acquainted with his script. Sliding the already opened letter out from underneath some of the other papers, she basked in the knowledge that Fitzwilliam Darcy had written this missive to the Bingleys ...and she was a Bingley. As she examined it, she pretended he had written to her personally and wondered what he would think if he knew she was reading it.

As the content became clear, a frown formed, and her brows knit in concern. Apparently Charles knew this cousin Mr. Darcy was so concerned about, else why would the Master of Pemberley pass along news of her to the Bingleys? Most disturbing was that Miss Elise, as he called her, seemed to be staying there ...at her Pemberley.

Her ire rose. No one, not even her own brother, had bothered to tell her that Mr. Darcy had a female cousin living at his home. It was most disturbing, even if the woman was chaperoned. It was common among the wealthy to marry their cousins and keep the wealth in the family. Was Mr. Darcy contemplating marriage to this particular cousin? She read on impatiently, her anxiety mounting until she reached the part where he mentioned that she was there for her health!

Caroline sighed in relief. It was obvious that something was seriously wrong with this Elise Lawrence. Perhaps she would die soon, and she would not have to worry about her . Yes! That was probably the only reason Mr. Darcy allowed her to stay. She is dying.

The letter was brief, and there was no more mention of the woman, so Caroline carefully placed it back in the stack. Then shuffling through the rest of the papers, she decided there was nothing that she had not studied before. Taking every precaution, she quit the room just as she had in the past, quietly moving through the halls unnoticed, until she was safely ensconced in her own bedchamber.

Once inside, she plopped down on her bed, losing herself in her daydreams of being Mrs. Darcy. That always caused her to smile, and she did so until she remembered her dissatisfaction with Charles. If only he would force his hand—make Mr. Darcy invite them to Pemberley. Then that gentleman would see her suitability to be the Mistress of Pemberley. Yes! She must devise a way to have Charles invited. She sat up.

Of course! A letter! She could mimic her brother’s handwriting, splotches and all, and with any luck, Mr. Darcy might not mention her letter when he extended the invitation, but if he did, Charles would likely think he was referring to some earlier post. After all, they exchanged letters frequently. Yes, that is the solution!

~~~*~~~

“Charles, we cannot keep Mama away with frivolous complaints. At some point, she will understand that I do not really want to see her and then—then I shall have no peace.” She sniffled, and Charles tightened his hug and kissed her forehead.

“I am sorry, love. I suppose I should have brought her up for just a moment, and she would have been satisfied for a while. It was just that she was so overbearing, pushing her way into the house, ordering our servants around. Sometimes—”

“We have only a short while longer to bear it. We have agreed to move just as soon as the baby is born. Have you asked Mr. Darcy to keep watch for an estate in the area of Derbyshire?”

“Not yet. Are you sure it would be in Lizzy’s best interest if we move near her? I mean, if your mother came to visit, she might accidentally see her.”

“Charles, when we move, I am determined to break all ties with Mama. I do not want to ever see her again—not after what she did to my sister.”

“I know you say that, sweetheart, but you may change your mind.”

“No! No, I will not. If not for Lizzy’s situation, I would have moved north before now. I feel better about her now that she is in Mr. Darcy’s care, and once we move, Mama will have no idea where I have gone. I shall see to that.”

~~~*~~~