Page 34 of London Holiday (Sweet Escapes Collection #2)

Chapter thirty-four

“ W ish me farewell for these three weeks,” Colonel Fitzwilliam announced himself at the door to Darcy’s study. “I am off to Bath to set up Aunt Catherine and Anne in their new establishment.”

Darcy looked up from the letter he was writing to Georgiana. “The duty fell to you? I had thought your father was to escort them.”

“He made the initial inquiries, but I am to be the whipping boy. It is the price I must pay to keep in Mother’s good graces, for my own prospects depend upon her skill at morning calls—and, of course, the allowance from her fortune which is one day to become mine.”

“I hope you survive the journey unscathed, then. Be certain not to drink any brandy you are offered, or you may wake up to a different sort of prospect altogether.”

“I shall heed your advice! And what of you, Darcy? There is still some talk, but it is largely dying away, and more quickly than I might have expected. Are you feeling the consequences of the debacle?”

“In some measure, but the momentary discomfort of the exposure does not begin to compare to a lifetime with a wife I could not respect.”

Richard dropped into a chair. “Is there such a woman, Darcy? I have never enquired about your women—”

“There has never been any cause to.”

“Quite so. But now there is, and a rather fetching one at that. Do you intend to keep up your acquaintance with Miss Bennet? ”

Darcy sighed and dropped his pen. “She is from trade. Surely, the question does not bear asking.”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley might agree with you, but I see another man before me—a man who was rather smitten by a pair of fine eyes and an honest heart. Can you deny that you took pleasure in the time you spent with her?”

Darcy rose and began to pace. “I have never understood it possible to enjoy a woman’s company so. She is one I could call a friend, and more than that, even. I respect her, as I do very few others.”

“Are you certain that is all? She blushed rather hotly in your presence during that fracas the other evening. Can you truly tell me you have done nothing to entrap yourself?”

He shifted his shoulders inside his tight coat and looked anywhere but at Richard’s face. “I cannot. Viewed in a prudential light, her uncle has every right to make demands of me for even a fraction of the day’s events. But I called on him again, and I was calmly assured that the family intends nothing of the kind. She would not impose, which is yet another example of her goodness. Do not lecture me, as I see you are prepared to do. Every feeling of justice and honour objects, but she is correct. It would not work, it could not work!”

“Yet you enjoyed her company, and as more than a friend. Perhaps something else could be worked out? There are many ways in which a man may choose to enjoy female companionship. You desire her, do you not?”

“How could I not? Though it took me some while to confess it, even to myself, I could easily call her the handsomest woman of my acquaintance.”

“Then you must contrive some way to keep her near! Set her up with a pretty little cottage in the country, or better yet, an apartment in Marylebone. It would be just the thing.”

“I have never kept a mistress, as you well know. It did not seem fitting while my father lived, for in his tender sentiments, every woman was to be compared to my mother, faults and virtues alike. I could not… there would have been none worthy of notice, and certainly none so appealing as to make me wish to see his disappointment in me. It was even less fitting when Father died, and I became guardian to a young girl. It was necessary that I might have shown my face to her as a figure she could respect, a man of honour. I could not set such an example for her.”

“Poppycock! Blame your father and Georgiana, will you? You never had a mistress because you are a sentimental prude.”

“I would not term myself so.”

“Father has accused you of it for years. You always talked of marriage, when you could be induced to talk about it at all, as placing some special importance on adoration for your mate.”

“I had said it was important that one be able to regard and admire his prospective mate. I most certainly did not use the word ‘adore.’”

“It is the same thing in your mind. Come now, what are you going to do about this young lady of inferior birth, of whom you cannot cease thinking? I cannot see why you do not simply make her your mistress.”

“For Miss Bennet…” he mused, stroking his chin and staring at the floor, “I could almost be persuaded to the arrangement. But no, it would never do. It would shame her, I know this very well. It would kill that unpretentious honour and genuine integrity which I love about her character.”

“So, you do love her!”

“I did not say that. I said I admire her character.’

“No, you very clearly used the word ‘love.’ I have never heard you use that word, even to describe your feelings for Georgina.”

“What matters the verb? I esteem her highly, and I am concerned for her situation. If her family truly is in disgrace, and with little means or standing to recommend them, there will be great difficulty in securing a respectable marriage for her or any of her sisters. I would not see her sunk to a low match, or even to become the mistress of another man. Perhaps I could persuade a gentleman of honour to consider her as his bride. Would you?”

“Indeed not, for I have just come from Miss Wakeford’s father and asked permission to call on his daughter more frequently when I am returned from Bath. With Mother also working on my side of the affair, I am not without hope. Eight thousand pounds, Darcy, and a pleasant face to match! I would be a fool to cry off.”

Darcy ceased his pacing to choose a chair opposite Richard, all the better to divert his energies from walking to thinking. “Well… perhaps Bingley might be brought up to scratch. He is fixed to settle in Hertfordshire already, and an introduction might not be difficult to arrange. Yes, now that I think of it, he would do very nicely for her. Certainly, he could do better in terms of fortune, but his position is not so delicate as mine, and he cannot object so strongly to her station. For himself, he is amiable and respectable, he would never treat her ill, and he is easily enough persuaded that I can make him see her virtues.”

“And why would he do that? Why should Bingley oblige you so that he would let you have the choosing of his bride?”

“Indeed,” replied Darcy testily, “he must see it! He is no fool, but he is perfectly eager to marry. He will no doubt be induced to it by some country girl or another once he is settled in Hertfordshire. Why should it not be Miss Bennet? Once he meets her, talks to her as I have, he cannot help but acknowledge for himself that she is without her equal among women.”

“Why don’t you just admit it, Darcy? You are head over ears for her, and you will never be content seeing her in the arms of another man.”

Darcy lurched back to his feet, for his efforts at avoiding eye contact with his cousin were failing at every one of Richard’s shocking insistences. “I would be content to see her well off,” he retorted. “And I would be doing a service for a friend! How many women are so genuine, so unaffectedly transparent, yet possess her quality of poise and dignity? I can count them on one hand. Nay, less than that! She is the sort of woman who would make a man proud of his own manhood by her regard.”

“Oh! She is a passionate sort of woman, is she?”

Darcy made a sour face and would have slapped his cousin, had he not been quite so far across the room. “That is not at all what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? Does she pander to your rather inflated sense of self? Compliment you excessively?”

Darcy resumed pacing, desiring to sort his impressions and to express them in words. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I have never met another woman with her quiet sort of confidence. She did not feel the need to praise herself before me, nor me to myself. She is intelligent enough to know her own mind, as well as her own place in the world, and she treated me with the respectful sort of amity that one might grant to… I cannot think of any near comparison. Perhaps she treated me as a friend, rather than a prize. Yes, perhaps that is it. When we spoke, she was speaking to me, not my position, though I am quite certain she knew something of my true situation almost from the beginning.

“And she was kind, in a way I have rarely seen. Never for a moment did she give the sense that she would submit to another out of weakness, but the way she so gently permitted me to be her protector for the day, deferring to me when she could manage perfectly well on her own… it was as if she were according me an honour, and such it became, to be chosen as the man graced with her companionship. It was a heady experience. How could any man not crave the regard of such a woman?” He turned to face his cousin, a challenge in his voice.

Richard had crossed his legs in his chair and leaned forward now, his elbow upon his knee and his hand brushing his chin. “Indeed,” he mused. “How could any not? And this treasure of a woman, you would pass into the keeping of another man?”

“Do not think it my preference. Were matters different—even slightly!—I would not struggle so. I care nothing for a fortune, and even some sort of family embarrassment might be hushed up and forgotten in time with the right resources and prestige to countermand it. But you know well her position, as does she! She comes from a family in trade, and that, the ton will never forgive. I think not only of myself, but of the cuts she would face in society. No, she was perfectly right when she bade her farewell. She knows her place in the world, and it is not in mine.”

“Mmm,” Richard nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I see your point. Well, you have thought it all out, and I congratulate you, Darcy. Matters will be settled according to everyone’s benefit, and you do not have the trouble of offending your relations or society. We must keep them happy at all costs, eh? One never knows when their interference in your private affairs might be beneficial, and they certainly deserve your unmitigated accommodation. Cannot have anyone about to rumple feathers, you know! And since you have this sorted without my help…” he trailed off and grunted, shifting himself out of his chair and to his feet.

Darcy frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my own bed, of course. I must face our aunt in the morning and try to persuade her not to tuck Anne into my arms at some point during our travels. For that, I will need at least a little sleep. Did I hear something about some very fine brandy you had about here to help a man rest?”

“You would never make it home,” Darcy snorted derisively.

“I would borrow your carriage, of course,” Richard winked. “Sleep well, Darcy, and do not forget your own place in the world.” He touched his forehead in an irreverent salute and was gone.

His own place in the world! Yes, that was precisely the trouble, was it not? And men of his station did not marry the nieces of Cheapside merchants. At least, not usually. Surely, not more than one or two. Three, perhaps. He rubbed his eyes.

And whom among his family was he trying to please? Certainly not Lady Catherine. Perhaps not the earl and countess, for though he did not prefer to be at odds with them, their motives were not his own.

But Georgiana… she would need a steady sister, one who could counsel her and encourage her, one who could navigate Society and charm the mothers of sons, one who could mentor her as she prepared to make her curtsy. And naturally, such a woman could not have come from trade! How many such women were accepted at court? Certainly, not more than one had been presented. Two perhaps. Three at the utmost.

Darcy tried to return to his letter, but if he had struggled to express himself before, it was impossible now. He had been thinking to ask Georgiana to come to London, for he could not easily depart for Pemberley until his private affairs were sorted. How long that would be, he could not be certain, but at the very least there was the financial bother with Anne and his aunt and their retrenching.

There were also a new butler and housekeeper to bring on. Mrs Reynolds and Hodges should be arriving from Pemberley soon to oversee the process of replacing the remaining staff, but he would insist on meeting each new hire they recommended. He meant to be the master once again, and this time, he would take care to know each person who worked for him as well as his own friends. After all, it did not take so very long to know someone intimately… one day, to be exact. His head fell between his hands.

Egad, how he wanted her! His cool detachment when speaking with Fitzwilliam was nothing but a sham, for if he had shown even a glimmer of his true preference, he would be on a horse to Hertfordshire within half an hour of the confession. Everything about her, from her easy wit and vivacity to her gentle compassion, her honesty and her resolve… could there be a woman better formed for him? And how easily she had seemed to adapt herself to his peculiarities! Surely, she cared for him. Yet, when he had spoken, she had refused, and when he had called again on her uncle, she would not see him .

Perhaps it had been his address. Something in his manner which bespoke uncertainty, or insincerity. What was it he had said?

“ Some way… I could protect you ,” he had mumbled. Perhaps he was not articulate, but how could that have given offence? “ I know that the relative position of our families would render it disgraceful, but there must be some manner in which we can… perhaps something can be arranged. You would not need to wed that fool .”

Darcy dropped his hands from his face. Had he truly said that ? By heaven, she must have thought him to be asking something utterly the reverse of his true intentions! Casually as he had tried to speak when discussing the very subject with Fitzwilliam, every feeling of attachment and civility recoiled at the notion. Make Elizabeth a Cyprian! ‘Twould be more loathsome than desecrating the great sculpture of Venus herself, and the man guilty of such a crime, a hundred times more wretched.

How she must have despised him! And again, his single-minded focus on only his own desires, without considering how he must have appeared to her, had dashed him. No man of feeling and consideration could so insult a woman of such integrity, whose happiness and welfare had become as dear to him as his own, by suggesting that she become a Paphian to suit his whims.

And yet, that was what she had understood. Darcy tried to stand, to walk to the fire and stare into it, but he was too nauseated. Weak with self-loathing and reproach, he clutched his eyes and tried to claw from them the vision of her: laughing eyes gazing up to him, full of trust and affection. In one ill-judged blurt of his cursed tongue, he had done away with her regard.

“Elizabeth,” he wept into his palm, “forgive me!” Oh! What he would give to have that moment back, to once again cradle her in his embrace for even one of her sweet kisses—long enough to assure her that she was a woman worthy of being pleased, worthy of any man… even himself. No, rather the reverse. He wished he might be worthy of her .

Trade daughter or no, there was no help for it. He loved Elizabeth Bennet—loved her with a devotion that defied all understanding, that could not be accounted for by the single day from which it had sprung. How could he ever accept a substitute? She was, as the old hermit in the Gardens had declared, more than she appeared, and anyone else who failed to recognise her qualities could go hang. “ Lift up thine head; never lookest thee down ,” he had counselled her. Indeed, she ought never have cause to do so!

And what of himself? He was a fool, with a missing heart. It was gone, given freely to an impertinent miss who became ill from too much motion. Perhaps that was one of the things he loved best about her! Perfectly imperfect, and at peace with her flaws. He clutched his head, all the glories and agonies of that one exquisite day flooding back.

“ Hard it is ,” the raving old fool had pronounced over him, “ when cast down thou art from artifice and pride! Seekest not thou pleasing lips and hands that lie. Woe upon thee, if thou learnest not, for verily the price is thine love and life! ”

Darcy blinked, his chest pounding and his ears ringing with comprehension. He had been such a blind, stupid fool! And he would be cursed to be a lonely one if he did not act.

He snatched another sheet of paper, his letter to Georgiana temporarily forgotten. Hertfordshire was near enough to London that he could be in Meryton in four hours, and back again for any need within a day. As soon as Mrs Reynolds set up command of the house, he could be free.

His resolve fixed, his heart set, he bent his head to his letter.

Dear Bingley …