Page 21 of London Holiday (Sweet Escapes Collection #2)

Chapter twenty-one

H e could not explain himself. The words of the old madman in the Hermitage had shaken him more than he would confess, and for no reason he could comprehend. Miss Elizabeth did him more justice than he deserved, for she declined to question him very seriously about it. She, too, appeared mystified by the riddles spoken by the odd little man, but she seemed to brush it off the more easily.

It was several minutes before he felt secure of his powers of speech once again, though when he ventured so much, he only managed an inarticulate, “There,” when they passed the spectacle of the golden statue of Aurora. She paid it little more notice than the rose hedges among which it was situated, for her eyes frequently turned up to his face to see that he was, indeed, well. Again, he felt a warmth spreading through his chest. No woman of his acquaintance had ever been quite so sensitive to his moods, save perhaps his mother.

There was no time to reassure her that he was not displeased or offended by something, for in their path stood a curious personage. He was dressed in an affected manner quite similar to a penguin, complete with his long tails and frilly white cravat. CH Simpson himself, the self-proclaimed master of ceremonies at the Gardens. Darcy suppressed a groan, and would have tugged Miss Elizabeth off the path and in another direction, had he been escorting her as a proper gentleman. However, as he held only her parasol and not her hand, the odd fellow was upon them before he could protest .

Arching his back and placing one foot forward with dramatic flair, Simpson tipped his hat and bowed gallantly before Miss Elizabeth. “Greetings, gentlefolk! Welcome most humbly to our fair Gardens, where you may seek any pleasure, revel in any delight which might suit your most excellent fancy.”

Darcy bit back a sigh and could not help a roll of his eyes. Simpson was a useful sort of buffoon, no doubt, as some parties simply adored being fawned over, and others had their grievances diffused by such obsequious absurdity, but Darcy could not tolerate this brand of nonsense. Perhaps it was all an act, but when a man spent every day for the whole of his life affecting the manner of a toady, he could not help but become one.

Simpson was addressing only Miss Elizabeth now, bowing and scraping once more with that flamboyant touch which was his own trademark. “My dear lady, what a fair afternoon to grace us, so condescendingly, with your magnanimous presence! How wise you are to partake of the delights of the floral gardens before the evening entertainment renders them less beautiful by comparison. Pray,” he bowed again, “if there is anything that can be done to enhance your enjoyment of our fair Gardens, you have but to call for Mr Simpson! And so that I might know to respond with all due alacrity, might I have the pleasure of learning who might summon?”

Miss Elizabeth smiled; the patient, bemused smile of one who had decided upon humour rather than annoyance, and that soft little chuckle of hers bubbled fourth again. Darcy hated to confess it, but he had become rather fond of that sound this day. It was no mindless giggle like so many young ladies, nor rather was it the braying laugh of the courser sort. It was simply an effusion of delight, simmering up from a heart of which he had come to think the impossible: genuine, unaffected kindness, bound up in a soul of wit and fire, to forge the sort of woman who might have stepped from mythical pages .

She curtsied in reply to the officious greeting, then with a playful glance his way, she introduced herself. “I am Miss Bennet, and my attendant here is named William. We are most pleased to be received so graciously. I thank you for your kind attention, but we are not in need of anything.”

“Oh!” he protested, “but you have no refreshments! My dear Miss Bennet, this simply will not do. We have so much to see here and so many wondrous events this evening to delight the eye and uplift the spirit. You simply must be properly restored so that you may not weary before you have experienced all!”

“I thank you,” she was smiling in that cheerful, yet dismissive way which seemed to beg off, “but that will not be necessary. We cannot stay long, and indeed, must depart before the greater share of the evening’s events.”

“Indeed, this is a travesty!” he declared. “For you simply cannot properly appreciate all without at least witnessing the Cascade, or the Ascents, or even sampling our delicious fare. And the fireworks! You must not go before the display. Pray, Miss Bennet, will you not alter your intent?”

She began to deny his wishes, but even as she opened her mouth, another voice interrupted.

“Miss Bennet? Did I hear Miss Bennet?” The voice came from somewhere behind Darcy, but it rapidly neared as a generously proportioned figure of a woman happened upon them. When her eyes found his Miss Bennet, she lifted her hands in the greatest joy, as if she had recovered a long-lost relation. “It is you, Miss Bennet! I thought I heard your voice, and I was certain of it when I overheard your name!”

Elizabeth seemed to start, and a curious expression crossed her face as if she did not at first recognise the voice or its bearer. Then her eyes cleared, and she smiled warmly. “Mrs Jennings, what a pleasure to meet you again!”

Then—God bless the woman!—she glanced quickly to him and raised an eyebrow in question. With the greatest relief, he was able to shake his head very subtly. No, he did not know this woman; it was, therefore, safe for her to carry on a few moments’ conversation with her acquaintance in his presence.

“Miss Elizabeth, I cannot tell you what delight this happy circumstance gives me! Why, I was only telling my daughter Charlotte—that is, Mrs Palmer, the one I told you of last night—not half an hour ago of the delightful time we all had at the symphony. Did you not love it, my dear?”

“Indeed, I did,” Miss Elizabeth averred, “I always do enjoy music.”

“Oh, one does not go to the symphony for the music but the company! And how happily seated we were—why I never go but that I find myself beside the most agreeable new faces. I simply adored your Mrs Gardiner, and Miss Kitty was perfectly enchanting. As for yourself, I have never been so delighted to meet any young lady. I was just praising you to my dear Charlotte, was I not, my love?” She gestured to a plump younger lady walking beside her, who had not spoken but had announced her arrival with numerous quiet giggles.

“Indeed, Mama, you were saying that very thing. Miss Bennet, I am so pleased to meet you!”

Miss Elizabeth curtsied to the young wife, but whatever duty or pleasure she might have expressed was lost in the next moment, for Mrs Jennings was speaking again.

“Now, my dear, do you not agree with me when I said how handsome she was? And clever, too—why I cannot recall the last time I laughed so! We simply must exert ourselves on her behalf, for I shall not see such a young lady passed over.”

Miss Elizabeth looked confused and turned toward the daughter to make sense of the mother’s words. Her dismay was evident when all was explained.

“Oh, Mama is so droll, is she not?” Mrs Palmer enthused. “She always fancies herself the matchmaker, and she’s a ready eye for any young lady in need of a husband. A handsome girl and a wealthy man, that is her prescription for bliss, and I daresay she is never wrong!”

“I—” Miss Elizabeth protested weakly, “I am sure I am grateful for your consideration, madam, but I have no need—”

“Nonsense!” Mrs Jennings laughed. “Oh, come now Miss Bennet, no need to be so missish. Have not all young ladies the same requirements? But never fear, for I have no intentions of setting you up with any man just yet. Why, I have only just met you! I’ve no idea the sort of man you would like, nor even if there are any you have set your hopes upon, but a half an hour’s chat shall suffice to know all. Let me see, is there such a young man who might have already captured your fancy?” She touched a finger to her lips and stared pensively, the better to divine what no properly brought up young lady would dare confess.

“No, indeed!” Miss Elizabeth shook her head, her cheeks flushing rather becomingly. “But I thank you for your kind interest, madam. As it is, I am afraid I cannot tarry half an hour.”

“Oh, now you may not brush me off so quickly. The evening has not yet begun, and we have all night to sit together and talk this over. Now I suppose your aunt and sister are here somewhere? Sure, taking another of the walks, no doubt. Well, no matter, they can find us when they come to the supper boxes. Come, you simply must join us, I will not hear any objections! Am I not right, Charlotte?”

“Oh, yes,” Mrs Palmer agreed. “It is a such a large box, and our company is so small this evening. I can scarcely abide not having a great variety of company, but we heard on the way here that Sir John—that is my sister’s husband—was taken ill and could not come. We’ve other friends we tried to persuade, but alas, they have only just married, and they are of no use whatsoever as companions just now. Pray, do join us, Miss Elizabeth, and Mama will be vastly pleased. Oh, and I simply must have you meet Mr Palmer, he is so very droll! ”

“I am very sorry,” Miss Elizabeth shook her head, “I am afraid I cannot stay. My visit today was to be of very short duration, and I am expected home soon. As soon as we have completed our circuit of the walking paths—”

“Oh, no! I simply must protest, for you cannot go so quickly! Why, it is not even half dusk, and you know there is nothing to the Gardens when they are all lit up at night. Is that not true, Charlotte?”

Mrs Palmer shook her head vehemently.

“Now, I see you have a manservant to escort you, that is very good. He can certainly see to your safe return to your party if they do not arrive shortly, but you simply must dine with us for a little while, at the least. We are going to take some early refreshments, for my daughter’s condition demands such, and Mr Palmer’s humour is much improved by food and drink. No, no! Your modesty does you credit, Miss Elizabeth, but I will not hear another objection! Upon my word, if you are not so very much like a young lady of my acquaintance! Always trying to be so sensible, but even the sensible are often possessed of some deep feeling they will not confess. Therefore, I shall spare you the trouble of keeping up the pretence and insist that you join us until your party returns to the main square.”

Mrs Palmer giggled again, and Miss Elizabeth was left with no means of objection. Darcy watched her nibble her lips nervously, then glance at him to silently ask his approbation of the scheme. Darcy lifted just one brow as if to say that a small delay would be of no great consequence. It was not as if Mr Gardner would be ready to receive them quite so soon, and a little refreshment seemed harmless enough. Additionally, he could not help but believe their own presence, as a single lady and footman, would seem the less remarkable if they appeared to be a part of a larger group. And so, to take refreshments, they adjourned.

Richard Fitzwilliam had returned to the earl’s townhouse to resume the aborted call he had tried to pay on his mother. She would have considered it ill-bred indeed should he cry off entirely, and he had now some motive in asking for an audience with her. Miss Wakeford’s words alluding to her father had inspired in him the resolve to speak more seriously to his own family about certain matters.

Unfortunately, once again he was not the only caller to the drawing room. Only moments after he had settled by the hearth to await his mother, Lady Catherine was shown in. Her arrival had come as little surprise by the time he saw her, for her strident protests had echoed soundly in the hall for some minutes already. Accompanied by avowals of, “He shall hear my thoughts on the matter!” and “I intend to carry my way!” the lady herself blustered into the room.

Richard stood and bowed. “Good day again, Aunt Catherine.”

She turned accusing eyes toward him and pointed a recriminating talon directly at his heart. “And I shall have my satisfaction of you as well, Richard Fitzwilliam! I know very well what you have done.”

“I? Forgive me, Aunt, I was not aware that I had given any offence.”

At this moment, both the earl and countess arrived, and Richard felt himself the nexus of three very heated glares. “What have you done, Richard?” his father demanded.

“I cannot know, sir. I merely called to speak to Mother about visiting Mrs Wakeford and her daughter—”

“Darcy’s valet,” interrupted his aunt, her voice and manner a conflagration which might have smelted iron, “confessed all! He has been sending word to Darcy in secret all day. In short, he has been spying on my actions, and your son, Brother, has been one of the messengers!”

Richard’s mother sent him a scathing glance, then looked away, and he felt his prospects toward Miss Wakeford beginning to dim. His father, however, was now staring at Lady Catherine in confusion. “Darcy’s valet knows where he is?”

“As do I, by now. He has gone to Vauxhall Gardens, that disgraceful haven for miscreants and derelicts. No doubt he has sought his amusement in the darker reaches of the park, and cares nothing at all for his duty toward Anne! I will have him brought back at once!”

It was Richard’s turn to appear flustered. “Darcy at Vauxhall? Aunt, I think there must be some mistake. He despises the place, I have known him to denounce it in my own hearing.”

“I have it in his own hand.” Lady Catherine produced a greasy bit of parchment and thrust it before the earl’s nose. “There! Can you deny it? He has played me for a fool, traipsing off to some sort of holiday while the most pressing obligation of his life awaits at his house! And not only has he behaved utterly out of character, but he has taken some tart from Cheapside as his companion, as well as named her guardian so that all should know of her ruin! There shall be no end to the rumours when he has had his day with her! He has done this on purpose, with the intent of disgracing Anne and shirking his engagement. The shameful knave! He has left me with no other alternative.”

The earl was rubbing his fingers together in distaste, but his expression was grave. “This is Darcy’s hand, what there is of it that is legible,” he confirmed. “What do you propose, Catherine? For clearly, something must be done. This is a deliberate insult to the family, and I will not stand for Darcy to create some scandal merely because he was displeased with his choice of bride.”

Richard was glancing between them in growing alarm and sent his mother a beseeching look in hopes that she could stem the tide of the Fitzwilliam clan’s outrage. He was horrified when she looked coolly away from him and allowed her eyes to rest upon her husband to await his decree.

“He must be found, of course! I have sent some of Darcy’s male servants there in search of him already, but I would ask your support as well. The Gardens are large, and he could easily escape detection if night falls before he is discovered. I would have ten of your sharpest men at once.”

“You may have them,” the earl scowled, frowning first at the note, then at his son. “And I shall accompany them.”