Page 53 of He Taught Me to Hope (Darcy and the Young Knight’s Quest #1)
“You might say that, although I would say he is not truly known, for if they understood his character as I do, then they would surely approve of him.”
“Is he someone whom I have met?”
“I do not believe you have met him, but I dare say that, if you had, you would have found him to be charming, amiable, and exceedingly handsome.” She folded her hands over her chest. “Oh, Elizabeth, he is everything a gentleman ought to be.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, Elizabeth said, “How long has it been since you last saw him?”
“A number of years have passed since I last saw him and, before you ask, no—we do not correspond, for he is too much of a gentleman to dishonour me in that fashion.”
“Then, it is safe to say that you do not know what the gentleman’s intentions are at present?
” Elizabeth read in Georgiana’s eyes uncertainty and a lack of enthusiasm that had not been there moments earlier.
“Georgiana, I am sorry if my questions give rise to discomfort, but it does not do to hold onto something that might never be, especially as you have determined to delay your coming out and effectively put your life on hold.”
“Elizabeth, I am doing what is in my best interest. You see, he is much older than I am—a gentleman of the world, of sense and education. He asked me to wait for him, and I promised him I would. I can do no less.”
Pray my eyes deceive me! Darcy hurried his steps in order to disrupt the disturbing situation unfolding just down the hall. “Mr. Coolidge, Georgiana, pray I am not interrupting.”
Slender and soft-spoken, the younger man took a step back. “No, sir, I was just begging Miss Darcy’s forgiveness.”
Darcy arched his brow. “Pardon?”
Georgiana graced Mr. Coolidge with an angelic smile. “Sir, as I was explaining, there is nothing to forgive.”
Darcy said, “Perhaps I should be the judge of that.”
“Oh! No, Fitzwilliam. You see, Mr. Coolidge and I nearly collided. I simply was not paying attention to where I was going.” She looked at Mr. Coolidge again, her eyes full of sympathy for his awkward plight in being subjected needlessly to her brother’s scrutiny.
“If the two of you will pardon me, I will be on my way.”
Both men watched as Georgiana hurried off. Then Darcy directed his stern gaze at Coolidge, young Ben’s tutor.
“Sir, I was on my way to request a private audience with you.”
Darcy pursed his lips. This was the last thing he wanted; however, Coolidge was a decent man. The least Darcy could do was grant him this final wish.
“I shall see you in my study.”
Moments later, the two men sat on opposite sides of Darcy’s large and imposing mahogany desk.
“Sir—” Darcy’s guest tugged at his collar. “Mr. Darcy, I wish to speak with you regarding a matter of some importance.”
“Certainly, Mr. Coolidge.” Oh, how Darcy dreaded the impending discussion.
It would certainly not have been the first time a gentleman of meagre means had sought to improve his lot in life by seeking an advantageous alliance.
How many times had he seen Coolidge and his sister in situations the uninformed eye would merely interpret as a chance encounter?
Then, too, there were those times when Darcy had observed the manner in which Coolidge looked at Georgiana when he thought he was undetected.
Darcy could never recall the tutor being so ill at ease and, although he supposed he would feel decidedly worse once the conversation was over, he sought to make the man feel comfortable. “What is your purpose in requesting this meeting?”
“Well, sir, there is a situation in the class that warrants your attention.”
Darcy inwardly exhaled. Coolidge’s business had nothing to do with his sister. “So, this meeting has to do with Ben’s progress in his studies.”
“Indeed, it does, in a manner of speaking. Master Bennet is an exemplary student, and it is such a great pleasure to work with him. What concerns me is his insistence that young Samuel be tutored right alongside him. Frankly, the lad has not the capacity for learning as does the young master. If I am to be completely honest, I would say the situation ends up frustrating us all.”
“I was not aware that you were tutoring young Samuel Reynolds right alongside my son. How long has this been going on?”
“It has been going on for the past month, sir.”
“I suppose you are acting at Ben’s request in an effort to appease him. I know how persistent he can be when it comes to his young friend.”
“It is not just Master Bennet who wishes it. Were that only the case, but the situation also enjoys the blessings of his—” The colour washed over Coolidge’s face, and he stopped speaking.
“Go on then, Mr. Coolidge. You were about to say.”
“Well, sir, I do not wish to speak out of turn, but I fear to say more would risk overstepping my bounds.”
Darcy observed the younger man, who appeared far more nervous than he ought to, feverishly searching his brain for the apt words to say.
Engaging Coolidge’s services had been Mrs. Darcy’s idea: a compromise of sorts.
Despite his young age, Ben needed the structure of a formal, more advanced education.
Darcy had recommended that they consider an elite boarding school until he was old enough to attend Eton.
Elizabeth would not hear of being apart from her son at such a young age.
It was a matter easily settled, at least for the time being, for Darcy did not truly wish to have Ben away so soon either, even though he posited it was only a matter of time.
Ben would indeed be sent to Eton, as had been the case for Darcy and as would be the case for his other, albeit unborn, sons when the time was right.
Mr. Coolidge, the nephew of Darcy’s solicitor, was well studied. He had every right to be concerned with the progress he was making with Ben, for if Ben was not benefiting from his tutelage, then he must be away and Ben must be off to boarding school.
“I engaged you primarily for the sake of educating my son. I expect you to be completely forthcoming if there are obstacles in your path that prevent the attainment of the goals we laid out at the start of your employment.”
Coolidge shifted his position in the large leather chair. “Perhaps my coming to you in this manner was a mistake, sir. I suppose I might try—”
Darcy stood from his seat and walked around to the other side of his desk to sit opposite the tutor. “What are you trying to avoid telling me?”
“Well, sir, I spoke with Mrs. Darcy, and she is aware of my concerns with having young Samuel present in the schoolroom.”
Darcy now understood the young man’s predicament for Elizabeth likely dismissed the tutor’s concerns in favour of appeasing Ben’s wish to have his friend Samuel with him throughout the day.
“You have said enough, sir. For now, I encourage you to do whatever Mrs. Darcy has advised. I will address this matter. Soon you shall find that all of your attention is focused upon Ben’s education as it should be.
He is advanced in his thinking and reasoning abilities for one who is so young, but that is all the more reason to continue guiding his formal education so that when he is off to boarding school, he will be even further along. ”
Darcy sent the tutor on his way, and then strode over to the window overlooking a rather well-stocked lake.
Ben and Samuel had a habit of fishing there.
While Darcy made certain that Ben was well supervised when anywhere near the water, Ben did not necessarily know it.
Ben’s fierce independent streak would have balked at the very notion of someone watching over him at all times.
Ben’s friendship with Samuel was not at issue, for Darcy knew how much it meant to his son to have someone of his own age with whom to spend his days.
However, Ben needed to understand that he and Samuel were as different as night and day.
Ben’s future life would be that of a gentleman, a wealthy landowner and master, whereas Samuel, if he worked hard and applied himself, might one day escape the legacy of his birth, that of a servant, and he might become a physician, a lawyer, even a clergyman.
He might even be a steward of a large magnificent estate, but he would never be in the same sphere as Ben.
Darcy’s mind drifted back to the days of his own youth—days played out in much the same way as Ben was spending his days, whiling away the hours with his closest friend. Darcy’s closest friend had been the son of his own father’s steward.
George Wickham.
Darcy shook his head. My beloved father, may his soul rest in peace, never knew what a mistake it had been to expose Wickham to a life that would never be his own—could never be his own.
In fact, Darcy had come to liken his father’s charity to a sin: a sin he had no intention of repeating.
Darcy could find no fault in young Samuel, none to speak of anyway.
He was always polite and good-mannered; just as one would expect of the grandchild of the woman who had been more like a mother to him than a housekeeper in the years after his beloved mother passed away.
She was even more so to Darcy’s young sister, Georgiana, who never truly knew their mother.
Still, the prospect of putting temptations before young Samuel Reynolds, of planting seeds of want and aspirations of wealth and privilege in the young boy’s mind, was something Darcy dared not entertain.
He crossed the room with long, determined strides and rang the bell for a footman. I need to speak with Ben. Now.
Not long after, Ben and his friend Samuel, to whom Ben attached the appellation Sir Gawain—the most trustworthy friend of Sir Lancelot whenever they took up their Arthurian games, raced into Darcy’s study. “Good morning, Da.”
“Good morning, Ben.” Darcy stood and walked to the boys. “Samuel, how are you this morning?”
“I am getting along very well, sir. I thank you for asking.”