Page 3 of London Holiday (Sweet Escapes Collection #2)

Chapter three

H is eyes were leaden weights, throbbing and aching with each queasy pound of his chest. What had he done last night? Even a fall from his horse typically did not cost him so dearly the next day.

Darcy groaned and cast a hand over his face, a deed which instantly earned him another stab through his brain. He moaned again. Where the devil was Wilson? The man ought to be there with a cool cloth to salve these burning sockets in his face.

He tried to call out for his man but forming the word in his mouth made his head spin and writhe again. Instead, he managed only a garbled moan and rolled to his side. There was some sort of feminine disturbance nearby, and it sounded a great deal like a noisy ballroom. Surely, he was not in one of those, for he was quite certain that one was not permitted to assume a supine posture in such a venue. More was the pity.

One pulsing eye slit a fraction. The image he perceived was blurred—a pale shape, with dark edges… and a loud voice. A decidedly female voice.

His stomach gave one great flip as his body spasmed in panic. Good heavens, it had finally happened! Someone had gotten the better of him and staged a compromise, and the giggling miss who was watching him rouse from his helpless stupor was to be his bane for life.

He wheeled to the opposite side of… he supposed it was a bed, but the crackling straw mattress felt unlike any bed he had known. He remained there, ignoring the petulant dismay in that wretched seductress’s tones, while he rubbed his eyes and cradled his head.

“Lizzy!” the malefactress cried out. “He’s awake!”

Darcy clutched the searing orbs in his eye sockets. “Have a care, madam,” he growled. “The deuce is driving the very steeds of Hades in my head, and I suppose I have you to thank for it. Very well, you have ensnared me squarely, but have the decency to gloat in silence while I try to reconcile myself to my fate.”

“Whatever that means,” scoffed a girl’s voice. “Lizzy! Are you coming back with the powders?” she called. Loudly .

Darcy winced and hissed his displeasure. He pinched his nose, hoping his brain would remain within his skull, then cautiously lowered his fingers to survey his captor. Oh, devil take it, she could be no older than Georgiana! At least he could have been trapped by a woman of some maturity, but no! He was to be the prey of a child barely out of the schoolroom!

He was snarling in silence at his misfortune when another woman rounded the door. Ah! So, this must be the accomplice. His lip curled.

“Good morning!” the dashed minx beamed in pleasure—and well she might, for they had achieved their ends. “I am glad to see you recovered. You were in quite a shocking state when we found you. We feared we would have to send for the apothecary. How is your head?”

Darcy stared at her. She was clearly no child. In fact, though he would be hard-pressed to call her a beauty, there was a remarkably fine look of intelligence—or perhaps cunning—about her eyes and a convincingly earnest concern in her voice. A fine actress! Her features were not fashionable, but striking, even so. She might even be declared tolerable, under different circumstances. A pity she was culpable in a scheme to ruin him! He rubbed his forehead, hoping the hellish nightmare would simply vanish.

“Oh, I am sorry,” the second Jezebel whispered. “I have spoken too loudly for your comfort. Here, a nice cup of coffee might set you right, and I brought you some headache powders. My uncle had some at hand for sickness.”

Darcy propped one bleary eye open. A maid was setting up a tray in the small chamber… oh, what a jolly fudge, he appeared to be installed in the servant’s quarters! Had they not even the decency to compromise him properly?

“Lizzy, you had best send for Aunt,” the younger noted. “He is looking rather green. I think he must have struck his head! Ask who he is.”

“Do you not know?” he snorted bitterly. “I rather expect you and your ilk know more of my name and my prospects than my own mother could have! How dare you play the innocent after all that has transpired?”

The women traded curious glances. The younger circled her finger insultingly round her ear, while the elder shrugged her shoulders and ventured, “Sir, can you give us the name of your employer, so we may send word of your welfare? My aunt’s coachman can drive you if you are too ill to walk. Where were you bound last evening?”

Darcy glanced over his shoulder and found no one sitting behind him whom she might be addressing. “My… employer?”

“Why, yes, of course,” she answered patiently. “You are still wearing the livery, so I surmised that you have not been turned out or anything half so dreadful. Had you met with some accident? I am certain that someone must be concerned that you did not return. If you can tell me your employer’s name, I shall pass it on to my uncle’s manservant so that he can assist you.”

Darcy glanced down at his person. He was, indeed, clad in the livery of his own house, with a pair of shoes half an inch too small tucked neatly beside his cot… a footman’s cot. A dizzying horror knitted in his stomach and a hundred realisations struck him at once. His aunt! Wilson! And how in blazes had he ended up… .

“I beg your pardon,” he pressed his fingers to his forehead again, “but, where am I? Are you perchance Colonel Fitzwilliam’s… er… hostess?”

Twin chocolate brows arched. “I am not familiar with that name. You are at the home of my uncle, Mr Edward Gardiner, of Gracechurch Street. We—my aunt and my sister and I—discovered you nearly unconscious in the street. We brought you here last night as a matter of charity. Are you in need of help? If you are, after all, searching for new employment and can provide a character, perhaps my uncle might consider—”

“Employment!” he nearly laughed. “Do not insult me.”

The lady narrowed her eyes. “We have gone to considerable trouble for a fellow creature, and a stranger at that. The least you can do is to show a little gratitude.” She rose in a swirl of pale skirts and made a shooing motion toward the younger girl. “You deserve no further notice from us, but if you are inclined to accept the house’s assistance, you may apply to the housekeeper.”

Chastised more by his own conscience than her words, Darcy put out a hand in entreaty. “Wait, please!”

She turned back in open scepticism, one eyebrow lifted as she apparently waited for him to further prove his maleficence.

“Forgive me, madam. It would seem I am obliged to you for caring for me. I am not accustomed to depending upon others, and I have almost no memory of last evening’s events.”

She appeared to soften somewhat. “Do you know how you came to be in such a state?”

He furrowed his brow in thought, then realised that he still sat on the servant’s cot while one of the ladies of the house was standing in attendance over his “sick bed.” He scrambled abruptly to his feet, grateful that none had thought to relieve him of the ill-fitting clothing. “There was something in my evening drink, I believe. One of the… the footmen… perhaps it was thought to be amusing.”

He began, for the first time, to release some of his initial annoyance at finding himself set upon by these strange ladies. Clearly, they had not staged a compromise, for they did not even think him a gentleman, let alone Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. If he were prudent, they might never know his name, and he could be yet a free man.

A fresh smile—and an enchanting smile it was, if he permitted himself to confess so much—warmed her lively features. “You must be mindful of whom you share a drink with in the future. Your friend’s prank nearly got you run down by our carriage.”

“I thank you for the advice, madam, and for removing me from the streets.”

“It was only our duty, or such is the prevailing sentiment in Hertfordshire when one happens upon another in your condition. I understand most Londoners do not concur, so it is fortunate for you that my uncle, and, most particularly, my aunt, are of more generous inclinations than many in Mayfair. It is she, as the mistress of the house, to whom you are truly indebted. She is detained at present, but she will be pleased to know that you are human, after all, and display something akin to appreciation for her interest in you.”

She stepped back, scolding him for his prior insolence with a compelling thinning of her pink lips. She gestured to a maid to finish setting a crude coffee and biscuit before him and continued, “I shall return now to my cousins. The staff have been instructed to see you have what you need to make a safe return to your employer.”

She left him then, seeming to drag her unwilling sister by stern gestures and unseen facial expressions. Darcy loosed a shaky breath. He glanced at one of the nearby household servants, who looked on with less goodwill than the ladies had, and decided to address himself to the humble repast. Perhaps it might help his throbbing head, so he could see and think clearly enough to make his way to his cousin’s lodgings.

Another look at the footman informed him that his typical etiquette when eating had been noted as suspicious. His face and inflexions, too, would eventually alert someone to his identity, if they knew anything at all about London’s society. Hurriedly, he forced himself to bolt the remainder of the meal. The sooner he was out from under scrutiny, the safer he was from the rector’s noose.

“Has your good deed gone on his way, then?” Mrs Gardiner looked up from her seven-year-old daughter’s latest doll dress as Elizabeth and Kitty entered the nursery. “Gracious, I might have thought he would sleep another hour or two, after his condition last evening.”

“He could not have slept another moment, even if he were dead, with Kitty shouting in his ear,” Elizabeth reported.

“I did not shout, and anyway, he was already awake when I started calling for you,” Kitty grumbled. “Why you made me come take your place and watch over that stranger like a sick baby, I shall never comprehend.”

“I told you, I went to ask for the headache powders. As for watching over him, we took him in, after all, so it is our duty to see that he is looked after.”

“Lizzy, you did not watch over a sleeping footman!” protested Mrs Gardiner. “What ever shall I tell your father?”

“Only from the doorway, Aunt. Mrs Barker kept one of the maids with me at all times—there was nothing improper. It is not as if he is a gentleman, whose presence could compromise me in the wrong situation. He is someone else’s servant, and he was not only unconscious but also fully clothed. Everything was done properly. How can there be any harm in that?”

Mrs Gardiner shook her head. “It just sounds questionable. Please, Lizzy, you must keep this quiet, and speak with me next time, before you decide to adopt any more strange men off the streets. ”

“I wish I had not taken in this one! You should have heard him when he awoke, Aunt. A more disagreeable, prideful man never existed!”

“Then why did you offer him employment?” charged Kitty.

“Oh, Lizzy, you did not!”

“No,” Elizabeth glared at her sister. “I merely asked… oh, never mind. It does not matter, for he scoffed at the very notion of work. As if he were some son of nobility! Perhaps a footman of his impressive height and features can afford to be more selective, but I declare, Aunt, I would not recommend taking him on if he were the last footman in Town.”

“He just might be the most handsome footman in Town,” giggled Kitty. “Admit it, Lizzy, you are not blind. I saw how you admired his figure.”

“You mistake frustration for fascination. I assure you, it was the former I felt for him. Anyway, he ought to be well on his way by now, wherever he means to go—I am sure I don’t care where. We have wasted enough breath on him, so let us speak of pleasanter things. Aunt, did our uncle agree to a tour of one of the gardens?”

“I believe so, yes. He has some work to finish first, and of course, the best sights are to be had later in the day. He recommended Vauxhall if his business today goes smoothly and he can return home soon. It is a bit of a drive, but I think you will find it worth the journey. Shall we depart after tea time?”

Elizabeth barely restrained a squeal of delight. A long-time fantasy was to be realised for her, and it was a cheerful diversion from her disappointment in the recipient of her goodwill. Such a waste of a handsome face and perfectly good livery! But she was determined to think of him no more.

She hurried from the room to change into a fresh gown and take her own breakfast. It would be some hours before they were to go, and a brisk walk in the park might revive her spirits while she waited. She prepared herself, therefore, to go out, perfectly untroubled by any suspicions that she might, upon quitting the house, accidentally encounter that wayward domestic.