Page 7 of Fitzwilliam Darcy An Honourable Man

London

Preston House

The next evening

Cecile Preston lifted the steaming cup to her lips, contentedly admiring the general splendour of her drawing room. The townhouse had been left to her in her late husband’s will, provided she remained a widow. If she remarried, the house would pass to Owen’s youngest brother, Marvin; but for now, it was hers. She mentally inventoried the room’s valuables for possible use as payments on her debts, and her head tilted in reflection.

Though I dearly love it here, I shall not repine the loss of it, for I shall have even grander houses when I marry Mr. Darcy.

Reflecting on Darcy House, she recalled her one visit there before she married Owen Preston, and how she was smitten with Fitzwilliam Darcy from that point on. Her uncle, Lord Tierney, the Earl of Whiteshall, had been invited to a dinner party hosted by Mr. Darcy and the Fitzwilliams, and she had convinced him to ask if he might bring a guest. They had been detained and arrived rather late. Due to the large crowd in attendance that evening, she had never actually been introduced to the man she had most wanted to meet. She still flushed at the memory of seeing him that night—she a tongue-tied two and twenty, too shy to coax an introduction with a dashing man of six and twenty.

For his part, Mr. Darcy had ignored her, as he had most of the women in attendance. She shrugged. She knew she was no beauty—even Owen had married her for her dowry. Though Mr. Darcy’s inattention may have hurt then, her present good fortune had certainly made up for her former disappointment.

Yes! All is well now. I am free of Owen Preston, and I have encountered Fitzwilliam Darcy just when he is most vulnerable. His sister is insisting he marry, and he is tired of beautiful women throwing themselves at him. He seems ready to settle for a marriage of peers, and I am his peer. How providential that I am finally in the right place at the right time.

The lengthening shadows on the wall served to remind her that she would have to begin dressing for the dinner party at the Fitzwilliam’s residence before long. She poured herself another half cup of tea and finished it off with brandy.

If I were a man, I would dispense with the tea altogether, but drinking tea is more ladylike than gulping down a glass of brandy.

Mr. Potts suddenly appeared at the door. “Madam, a Mr. Wickham to see you.”

Quickly looking to the doorway, she observed that no one was behind Mr. Potts. Putting a finger to her lips to silence him, she motioned for him to come forward. Glancing behind as though he thought she might be talking to someone else, the portly man saw no one. Realising then that she indeed meant him, he moved in her direction as quietly as possible.

As he drew nearer, she whispered, “Is Mr. Wickham aware that I am available to receive him?”

The butler said softly in reply, “No, madam. I told him to wait, and I would see if it was convenient.”

“Then, please tell him I am not able to see him today, and it would be best if he return later this week.”

The butler frowned. Mr. Wickham was not an easy man to put off, and he had become noticeably more surly in the last few weeks. Having no choice in the matter, he responded, “Yes, madam.”

Listening as his footsteps crossed the foyer, Cecile cringed when they abruptly stopped, and she could hear the raised voice of Mr. Wickham addressing Mr. Potts. Though she could not tell what he was saying, she could discern anger in his tone. Finally, the closing of the front door allowed her to breathe again. She was not surprised to see Mr. Potts reappear at the drawing room door a few seconds later.

He coughed self-consciously, and his eyes studied the floor as he delivered a message. “Mr. Wickham asked me to tell you that he will be here tomorrow evening, quite early, and he will expect you to be available.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potts.”

As the butler made his way back to his post, he wondered at the strange relationship between Mrs. Preston and the flashy Mr. Wickham. No gentleman would act or dress that way, nor would he think of addressing a lady in the manner in which he addressed Mrs. Preston.

Mr. Wickham had begun calling on the Mistress immediately following Mr. Preston’s death, though his visits had become more frequent in the last few months. Shaking his head, Potts decided he would think of it no more tonight.

Nothing done by the wealthy surprises me!

~~~*~~~

Cecile Preston’s hands shook as she fingered the delicate diamond creation, trying to fasten it about her neck. She sighed at the thought of having to hand it to Mr. Wickham in payment of her latest promissory note. This was the last costly piece of the Preston jewels, as she had used all the rest to pay previous bets. How would she ever appear at proper social functions without her jewels? Then remembering that she could always borrow from her friends under the pretence of admiring one thing or another, she relaxed.

Her light-heartedness did not last. Wickham’s bold declaration had dashed her hopes of putting him off until she could become Mrs. Darcy. When he arrived tomorrow, she would have to admit her inability to pay what she had lost or his excessive usury—at least not at present. She would assure him that if he gave her a little more time, she would have sufficient resources to settle her debts and perhaps even to make an occasional bet in the future.

Surely the prospect of my future wealth and further wagers will convince him.

The truth was that she was so far in debt that she feared being able to settle the balance, even if she secreted money from her allowance and household accounts as Mrs. Darcy. No, she would have to ask Mr. Darcy for the ten thousand pounds, pretending the debt was for something legitimate. As long as she laid the responsibility on Owen Preston, Mr. Darcy would feel pity for her.

Perhaps tonight will be the night Fitzwilliam Darcy realises that we would be an excellent match. God knows he has had enough encouragement from his family and plenty of time!

She tried to study her reflection in the mirror, but her thoughts drifted back to the handsome rogue who held her debts. From the start, she knew Wickham was not to be trusted. After all, he had been Owen’s gaming partner before becoming hers. It was not a month after her husband’s death that she became involved in a torrid love affair with him. He had convinced her to make more and higher wagers until she was, for all practical purposes, impoverished. She stamped her foot in frustration.

Now that I am destitute, I hold no interest for that blackguard! Well, no matter. I shall be Mrs. Darcy ere long and shall look down my nose at him!

Throwing the necklace onto her dressing table, she screamed, “Martha!”

Grabbing the combs that were to adorn her hair, she began putting them in place. “I should never have let Suzette go to save money. Martha knows nothing of being a lady’s maid.”

A young woman quickly appeared behind her, curtsying and holding out the freshly pressed gown she had gone to retrieve.

“What took you so long? I do not have all night.”

“Yes, mum—I mean, no, mum,” Martha sputtered.

“Help me with this gown and then fasten my necklace. I do not want my uncle to be kept waiting.”

Martha did her best, albeit, not as efficiently as Suzette, and Cecile was finally ready. She was waiting in the parlour when her uncle came to escort her to the dinner party. Cecile thanked him for accompanying her, and he assured her he was delighted to do so.

As usual when she was in her uncle’s company, all she could focus on was the fact that, with her aunt dead, she would be one of his heirs. He had no children and only eight nieces who would inherit his wealth. However, the man was in good health, and at eight and fifty, he could live another ten years. Cecile sighed as he offered her his arm, and they left the house.

As they settled into his carriage, she was thankful that Lord Tierney could not hear well and, thus, was not very talkative. The silence that ensued gave her ample time to ponder just how she might force Mr. Darcy’s hand on the matter of marriage as she needed immediate relief, and her uncle could not provide that.

~~~*~~~

In another carriage negotiating the route to Matlock House, William fidgeted with his cravat.

I should not have let Mr. Noble stay on as my valet. He should have retired long ago. He always ties my cravat too tightly!

Sighing, he realised that it was not the cravat or Mr. Noble who raised his ire, but the situation with Mrs. Preston. His chided himself for getting into this quagmire. I should never have encouraged the woman. Even to please Georgiana.

How does one explain? I am sorry to have raised your expectations, Mrs. Preston? It was foolish of me to think I could settle for someone I do not love.”

Having dinner tonight with the Fitzwilliams was the price he must pay for Richard’s help in keeping his aunt and Cecile Preston away the day before, but as William drew closer to his uncle’s home, his apprehension increased manifestly. He had found no time to plan a workable strategy concerning Mrs. Preston.

Even though he had explained to Elizabeth that she was in London, she was still confused when she awoke. She had reacted to the strange house, first by getting upset with Mrs. Drury; and second, by trying to leave—from her room and then the house. As at Netherfield, William was the only one able to calm her, so he spent most of the day doing just that, not that he minded. Quite the opposite, just being able to hold her close to him was a balm to his tortured soul. He found himself longing for the day when holding her would be by mutual desire and not because she was sick.

His thoughts drifted back to Mrs. Preston. There was no doubt she was a fine match for someone seeking a marriage of convenience. She was intelligent, able to converse with ease in social settings, she was wealthy and her connections were above average. Nevertheless, she was not the desire of his heart— Elizabeth was.

Acknowledging that brought him a peace he had not known since he left Kent. Truly smiling from the heart now, he grasped the truth of it—even if Elizabeth never fully recovered, he would thank God for the chance to care for her as long as he lived.

Satisfied that he finally knew his own heart, William resolved to do whatever was necessary to discourage the widow. After all, he was taking Elizabeth home to Pemberley, and Mrs. Preston would likely never be there again. It was just as well that he made that clear tonight.

The abrupt motion of the carriage’s stopping brought him back to the present, and with a new determination, he descended from the coach. Stopping to take a deep breath, he straightened his waistcoat and turned to see Richard as he came down the steps to greet him.

~~~*~~~

Cecile could not believe it. Not only had Mr. Darcy been cool to her when she addressed him after going through the receiving line, but he had not asked her to dance even once. The Matlocks had had the large music room cleared of furniture, so everyone that wanted to dance would have room to do so. She had situated herself next to him several times during the evening, giving him the opportunity to talk, but Mr. Darcy had acted as though they were barely acquainted.

She was livid, though she could not let anyone know. Determined to get to the bottom of this puzzle, Cecile decided to try another tactic. Near time for dinner, she walked over to William who was engaged in conversation with Richard, and smiling as pleasantly as possible, declared, “Mr. Darcy, I find myself free for our dance now, sir.”

William raised his eyebrows, but unwilling to embarrass her, bowed slightly and offered his arm. As Cecile turned, William shared a look with his cousin that signified something dreadful was about to happen. Richard blew out a breath as he watched William escort the lady to the dance floor. Suddenly feeling the presence of someone beside him, he turned to see his mother.

“What in the world is wrong with my nephew? Last he was in Town, he could not smile at Mrs. Preston enough, and now he acts as though he hardly knows her.”

“Perhaps now he regrets his attention to her,” Richard replied, never taking his eyes off William. Lady Matlock raised one eyebrow and turned to study her son.

“Because…”

“Perhaps, because he has found his true love.”

With that Richard left his mother watching Fitzwilliam and the widow Preston going through the steps of a dance as though they were strangers. Sighing, she rushed to find the butler to direct him to rearrange some of the place cards before dinner.

“Mr. Darcy, would you mind telling me why you have been avoiding me?” Cecile said calmly, a pleasant smile that did not adequately represent her feelings, plastered on her face.

“I do not follow you, madam.”

Madam? “ That is so formal for friends, is it not? Come now, sir. We both know of what I am speaking. You said you would call on me as soon as you came back to Town. Tonight I overheard Colonel Fitzwilliam say you have been here two days already. And, you have barely spoken two words to me this evening.”

William began to feel some guilt, but he knew it would be best to come right out and tell her the truth. “I am sorry, Mrs. Preston. I wanted to speak to you before now, but I have not had the opportunity.”

The dance separated them, and Cecile held her breath, wondering what excuse Mr. Darcy would give for his inconstancy. As they made their way back down the line, finally facing each other again, he continued, “I should have asked for a private audience to discuss something of importance.”

Cecile released a huge sigh of relief. He is probably just nervous because he is going to offer for me. “Then let us find the time now.” She nodded in the direction of the balcony. “If you will follow me, we should have sufficient privacy outdoors.”

William groaned to himself.

On the other side of the room, Richard followed the development with a frown and began to make his way toward the same balcony.

As the door to the balcony closed behind them, Cecile whirled around and moved to stand so close to William that he could feel her breath on his face.

“Mrs…Mrs. Preston,” he began as he took a step back. “I feel I must tell you—”

Cecile leaned in and kissed William on the lips, and he pulled back abruptly. “Madam, what are you doing?”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam! You looked so solemn, and this should be a happy occasion, should it not?”

“I do not take your meaning, madam. I was only going to tell you that I have decided that I have too many responsibilities at this time to consider a courtship.”

Cecile’s sharp intake of breath was followed by an angry scowl. “You what?” She turned, wringing her hands and began to pace. “You have decided— you have decided! And what about me? You have given me every indication that you would be offering for me but now...” Her voice faded away.

“I have tried not to raise your expectations. I have never asked to court you.”

“No. But you have shown preference towards me—asking me to dance to the exclusion of all others.”

“And for that I apologise profusely.”

She turned and faced him, her head held high in disgust. “Well! I do not accept your apology, sir. Unfortunately, I shall have to write to your sister and tell her what a cad her beloved brother has become.” With that she exited the balcony, slamming the door loudly behind.

William took a ragged breath and turned to look into the gardens. As usual, a low whistle announced his cousin’s presence, as he did not hear him come through the door.

“The Black Widow did not take that well at all!”

“Richard!” William was not in the mood for his kidding.

“I am sorry to have to say this, Darce, but I, for one, am entirely happy! That ugly woman was not for you.”

William frowned at him but he continued. “Not because she is ugly outside , but because she is ugly inside. There is something about her that I have never liked, much less trusted, and she was entirely wrong for the likes of you.”

William shrugged. “Well, it is done. Now I shall be able to return to Pemberley with Elizabeth.”

“Do you really know what you are about, Cousin? You have just freed yourself from an entanglement with one woman and are immediately jumping into another, proposing to take charge of a young woman who may never be well. I know you fancy yourself in love with her—” His words were cut off by an angry retort.

“You know nothing of my feelings for her!”

Richard stiffened at William’s reproof. He had never known his cousin to react with such emotion.

“I should not have—” Richard began but stopped short.

William stared into the starry sky, closing his eyes and conjuring the image of his beloved. “Richard, have you ever needed someone so much that you felt as though you could not breathe without them…could not exist if they no longer existed?”

He hesitated, though he did not expect Richard to answer.

“I have. I have eaten, breathed and lived with Elizabeth since the day I met her. It is her face that haunts my dreams, and it is she who fills my every waking moment. I stayed away for two years, trying to put her out of my mind,” he searched for the right words, “which, in the end, was futile. When I thought her dead for those few hours at Netherfield, something inside me died, and when I found her in the rain that night, it came alive again. I came alive again.”

William turned to face his friend, willing him to understand. “Now that I have her back, I do not believe I could survive if something happened to her.”

Richard stared at William for a long time, and then made a decision. He clasped William on each shoulder. “I am sorry, Cousin. I can say with assurance that I have never known that kind of love.” He tilted his head and smiled. “I do not think I ever want to know a love that deep, but in any event, I will support you in whatever you decide. Come hell or high water, you can count on me.”

William smiled wanly. “I am afraid it may very well come to both before this is over. But I am most humbled and forever grateful that you have chosen to be on my side.”

Richard smiled. “I always have been, just as you have always been on mine.” They shook hands and moved towards the French doors, intending to rejoin the party. “Come, let us face the enemy as a united front!”

Both chuckled softly as they entered the room, catching the attention of Lord and Lady Matlock.

“Is there something I should know about our son or our nephew, dear heart?” the earl whispered to his wife.

“Not that I know of, Husband.” Not wishing to have him upset with William once again, she decided not to tell him what Richard had divulged earlier. Reaching for his hand, she said sweetly, “But one never knows about these young people. Why do we not dance and forget all about them for the evening? I am sure tomorrow will bring enough troubles of its own.”

And she was correct.

Preston House

The next day

“But I do not have your money, Mr. Wickham!” Cecile wrung her hands in desperation. “Surely you can understand that I am trying to acquire it, but all I have at present is the necklace you now demand. If I do not have this piece, I will have to borrow jewels so that I can attend the best soirées. If I am not seen on the town, then my chances of remarrying, as well my ability to repay my debt to you, will be diminished.”

Wickham smirked. Who would want you, especially now that you are penniless?

“My associates do not take excuses, madam. Give me the piece.” Wickham held out his hand, and she reluctantly placed the diamond necklace in his palm. He began inspecting it, holding it to the light. “You do know that this will not cancel all your debt?”

“Surely there is some other way.” She touched his hand, and his eyes met hers. “I would do anything ! Can you not see the advantage of working with me?”

Wickham rubbed his chin as Mrs. Preston’s words played over in his head. “Perhaps there is a way.”

“Marvellous!” Cecile batted her rather sparse eyelashes. “At one time, you were fond of me.”

“Yes, but that was when you had money,” Wickham sneered, causing her to frown. “Oh, come now. You surely did not think I was enamoured of your beauty.”

“No. Of course not,” she replied testily.

“So, now that we are being honest with one another, I think I could use someone with your—shall we say—connections, to help me in my other line of work.”

Her brows rose in unison. “And what work would that be, sir?”

“I procure valuables.”

“What do you mean ‘ procure’ ?”

“Burglary, madam.”

“Oh!” Cecile dropped down in the nearest chair, shocked into silence for a moment.

“I have several people who aid me in procuring valuables. When I have accumulated enough, I have a buyer who spirits them overseas and resells them to the rich in his country. I make a fair profit, and he makes an even bigger one.” Wickham shrugged. “And we are both happy.”

“But I cannot. It would be illegal and…” Cecile sputtered.

“Madam! Do you or do you not wish to get out of debt? Besides, you could probably fully settle your debts and have some leftover for yourself, depending on your willingness to work hard.” Wickham saw her mind begin to turn. The idea of acquiring money beyond paying her debts was evidently appealing.

“I would be paid?”

“Yes, you would be paid a commission—let us say ten percent of what I get for the merchandise. For instance, one necklace I procured was worth ten thousand pounds. I sold it for approximately one-half, or five thousand pounds. Your commission would have been five hundred pounds.” Her eyes became large and round, so he continued. “And they always have more than one necklace, my dear. I also take anything else of value—silver and gold pieces—such as candelabrum, cigar boxes, jewellery cases, brushes, and combs.”

“What would be required of me?”

“Certainly nothing dangerous. You would do just what you mentioned earlier. You would borrow pieces of jewellery from your friends and relations. While you were doing so, you would take note of the layout of the house, the rooms where their valuables are located and, if possible, what they had to offer. I would rather try for very valuable jewels and not waste my time on cheap imitations!”

“I certainly could not steal the items loaned to me. It would be too obvious.”

“No, you would borrow some of the lesser jewels, perhaps under the pretence of modesty, as we would not want them to suspect your interest in the more expensive items. As soon as I know which house to target and where the safe is located within the house, I can make my plans— our plans.” He looked as though he was getting another idea. “And you may be valuable in keeping me informed as to the time they will be out of the house or even out of town, as you ladies do so love to gossip.”

“I suppose that would not be hard for me to do. I would not be directly involved in the burglaries, so I would be safe from suspicion.” She smiled then. “I would be able to keep my necklace and perhaps make enough to redeem myself and accumulate some funds.”

“Indeed!” Wickham proclaimed. “We have an agreement then?” He stuck out his hand. “Of course, you will have to start soon, or I shall be forced to take this necklace to appease my partner.”

Cecile shook his hand. “I shall have a prospect for you this week.”

“Splendid.” Wickham rubbed his hands together now. “I shall look forward to hearing from you.” At that, he bowed and walked towards the door.

“One thing, though.” At the sound of Cecile’s voice, Wickham turned. “Do not try to cheat me. I will be keeping track of what was stolen.”

“Your mistrust has wounded me,” Wickham declared, clasping his hand to his heart.

“I thought you said we were being honest.” Cecile retorted, lifting her head in disdain.

“ Touché , my dear, touché !”

~~~*~~~