Page 17 of Secrets Across the Sea

Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 5

“Darcy, Fitz,” Bingley announced happily as they entered the room, “come… It happened that my sister Caroline found herself in the area and thought to bring me some papers I might need. She will be happy to meet you, Darcy, I am sure. Here, Caroline, this is Mr. Darcy, the friend I have told you about. Darcy, this is my sister. Odd numbers at dinner I am afraid.”

“A pleasure,” Darcy bowed, his gaze taking in the excessively trimmed lady.

In the jaw, perhaps the brows, there were some familial signs between her and Bingley. Beyond that? Very little. And her displeased expression only heightened their differences… if that countenance proved permanent it would be a sorry turn. As Bingley’s friend he would be expected to spend time in her company; and thus far that did not feel an agreeable prospect.

“Mr. Darcy,” she answered at last, her face twisting as if he were a weed in her flower garden. “My brother has told me much about you.” Turning to the Colonel as if Darcy did not exist, she greeted him briefly before wandering the room in search of someone else to talk to.

“Forgive me,” Bingley whispered to his friends, “she can be rather rude at times.”

“It is not you who needs our forgiveness,” Fitz remarked, his expression a mingle of amusement and anger. “Though I cannot argue the latter point you made.”

With a chuckle and a sad shake of his head Bingley answered, “I would not have expected you to… I fear what her being here may bring about. Imposing on our host is bad enough, but she was not exactly welcoming to Miss Bennet or her sisters. Can you believe she managed that rudeness in the single minute they were in the same room?”

“As bad as all that,” Fitz laughed. “Well, we shall have to do our best to find occupation for your sister away from us and the Bennets. Who here would be of… interest… to your sister?”

“Darcy?” Bingley asked.

“I fear I do not know your sister well enough in these few minutes to give my opinion.”

“She would have us rise in society,” Bingley said simply. “Her passions are for titles. Money. And she excels at pretension… Though I am rather surprised she did not set her cap at you, Darcy, with your wealth.”

“Does she have nothing to recommend her?” Fitz questioned as he tactfully ignored Bingley’s musings.

“Wealth,” Bingley answered. “That is the ‘accomplishment’ she is most proud of. Besides that, she is well educated. She went to the best schools which would allow the trade class in; she learnt French and enough Latin to appear genteel; a little singing and a moderate understanding of the pianoforte; some literature; and all of the accomplishments expected in embroidery and running a household. No. She has fine skills and much to recommend her… but she has too much self-importance, and too little kindness.”

“A pity. Was she always thus?” Darcy inquired as he glanced to see who had entered, the three Bennet sisters lovely in the candlelight.

“No. Well, not so greatly. School began to change her… then with the death of our father, the spark of sympathy and gentleness died out, leaving a stranger in my sister’s place.”

“I am sorry,” Darcy whispered as the three Bennet sisters joined their party. “For you and for her.”

“What a delight,” Fitz said as he greeted the Bennets.

“That it is,” Miss Bennet smiled, her eyes flitting toward Bingley. “How is your sister tonight?”

“She is as she always is,” Bingley answered. “The cold has not been deleterious to any of you I trust. I caught a glimpse of you three enjoying a bit of sisterly competition not long after my sister arrived.”

“What is this?” Fitz hummed, his eyes crinkling as he viewed Miss Mary.

“No harm,” Miss Elizabeth laughed. “Though I fear Jane met with the worst of it, until Mary’s attention wavered of course, then Mary suffered a grievous blow.”

“It was commendable, if not somewhat underhanded,” Miss Mary teased. “My only complaint is how long it took me to get warm… the size of that snowball was impressive to say the least.”

“And it hit its mark too,” Miss Elizabeth added as she pointed at her sister’s face, “straight between the eyes. One must admire Jane’s aim. Mary is usually the victor in snowball fights.”

“And you are the victor in races,” Miss Bennet remarked as she crossed her arms.

“And you have more skill than either of us with the harp, embroidery, running a household, keeping accounts… snowball fights and races are little compared to those,” Miss Elizabeth reminded her. “Though I should like to think we have other skills beyond throwing and running.”

“Indeed we do, though I would consider trading my skills at snowball throwing for hers at accounting; leastwise, it would serve me better in the warmer months. What good is it being champion if there is no snow?”

“True. Now then, Jane, are you prepared to trade skills with our sister?” Miss Elizabeth smirked.

Tapping her chin, Miss Bennet gave show of giving the matter a great deal of thought, until at last she shook her head. “I must decline. As you said yourself, Mary, much of the year the ability to throw snowballs would lay languishing. I shall maintain my skill and you can enjoy yours while the snow remains.”

Chuckling Miss Mary agreed, “If I must.”

“I cannot speak regarding the present, as it has been many years since Fitz and I engaged in battle, however…” Darcy smirked wickedly, “I do recall I always seemed to win. Surprising considering he is now a Colonel, is it not?”

“Twice. Only twice did we ever, and I do recall you and my brother took sides against me both times,” Fitz said, chin lifted in that imposing way he used to intimidate, though his eyes twinkled merrily.

“Hmm,” Darcy hummed, “I suppose, if that is the way you remember it.”

“Oh-ho… those are fighting words if ever I heard them” Fitz teased as he squared his shoulders. “Before this house party is out, you and I do battle.”

“Agreed,” Darcy accepted, hand outstretched to take his cousins, the shake firm and swift as they tried not to laugh.

“And what of you, Mr. Bingley,” Miss Elizabeth smiled. “What sort of skills do you boast in that regard?”

“Boast?” Bingley answered. “A gentleman never boasts. I can only speak to the truth that, in all my years of study, in all of the snow fights I took part in… I lost only once.”

“That is quite a record,” Darcy acknowledged, “If…”

Finishing Darcy’s sentence, Fitz said, “If you took part in more than one snow fight?”

“I will have you know,” Bingley countered as his head turned toward the door, the butler ready to announce supper, “that my team played every week, and though I cannot claim victory on my own, I did my part, I assure you.”

“Come,” Lady Charmane announced to the room, “supper is served, or as served as it shall be. Tonight the food is laid out on the side boards and each of us may fend for ourselves as we see fit!”

Holding out his arm for Miss Elizabeth, Darcy asked if he might join her, her gaze flitting over her sisters to see that they would not be left alone before accepting–a concern easily remedied by an eager Bingley and a cousin far more inclined toward Miss Mary’s company than Darcy could recall.

Attention returning to the beguiling Bennet beside him, Darcy’s breath caught.

His cousin appeared in full danger of losing his heart. Bingley probably already had. And he… he had been caught up by Miss Elizabeth in such a way as he never had been. He had noticed the beauty of a woman before. Admired the conversation of a few who had more to say than most. Yet… nothing like this. Nothing akin to what he felt when near her or apart.

Foolish! That was what it was. Feeling for a woman he had known so short a time–even if they had spent more hours in company than many couples upon the gentleman’s proposal of marriage.

Couple? He had not even begun to court her. Yet, such an action would determine if he had merely lost his mind or if he had in fact lost his heart? Her father could not be asked for permission to court her… and so soon after meeting, posing the question to her might frighten. A week? Yes, if he felt as he did in a week, and she gave even the slightest encouragement, he would ask to court her.

There. That was not so hard.

If only waiting a week might be easy.

∞∞∞

S taffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 6

Another night of snow left the world enveloped in an ever-deepening layer of shining white, beautiful to admire from the comfort of a window, but far less obliging in person. Moving from his bedroom window, Darcy took one long breath as he forced himself to grasp the doorknob.

“One week. Wait one blasted week,” he growled as he turned the knob, the days he would be in Miss Elizabeth’s company stretching before him as blissful agony.

“Mr. Darcy,” a frowning Mr. Thomson noted as they came face to face in the dark hall. “Off to break your fast? And no Miss Elizabeth on your arm? What a pity.”

“I take it you have already been down to the dining room?” Darcy forced, the direction the odious man had been traveling giving that hopeful thought. “Then I suppose I am without your delightful company. A pity.”

“Yes,” he hummed, “though not a pity for Miss Elizabeth, for I have already known the, dare I say, rapture of her company this morning… Enjoy yourself.”

Scowling at Mr. Thomson as he walked away, Darcy shook off the man’s words as best he could.

That man only bought and sold poison–in words alone, yes, but nothing except death ever came from such men.

Death and ruin.

∞∞∞

Waiting in the entry an hour later after enjoying a hearty breakfast and a few minutes conversation with Miss Elizabeth, Darcy admired the various artworks hung upon walls much in need of new plaster. Several landscapes of exceptional quality displayed the nearby countryside to perfection, while to his left the portrait of an attractive young lady stared back at him, her clothes from decades past, though her eyes appeared wholly alive and… familiar.

Not Lady Charmane… given it hung in her house, it ought to remind him of her, but that was not it. Frowning he turned his head toward the sound of footfalls–Bingley fast approaching. Who did the painting remind him of? It was right there… and yet?

“Are you leaving to visit that property you spoke of?” Darcy asked as Bingley donned his great coat.

“I am,” Bingley grinned as he stood beside him, “it sounds as beautiful a place as a man could ask for–good size, southern exposure, enough rooms to host as many guests as you could like, and enough modernizations to equal even the grandest estates.” Eyes widening, he urged, “Do come, Darcy!”

“Doubtless it would be interesting… But I fear I already spoke to Miss Elizabeth and her sisters; we are to go for a sleigh ride. Lady Charmane offered, and we accepted with all alacrity. My cousin, I suppose, must have already agreed to go with you, for he declined the offer and…”

“And he would not easily refuse the offer to enjoy the company of a certain young woman,” Bingley finished. “Yes. Yes. He agreed to go with me, though I could release him from his promise.”

“And have me rest in the knowledge that any poor decision you might consider today may have been averted had I been there? No,” Fitz remarked as he made his way down the hall, “I gave my word, and I shall keep it… however much I may wish for other company.”

“My thanks,” Bingley answered tersely. “Other company indeed.”

“You think the same of me when compared to the company of an attractive lady, with pinked cheeks and a vibrant smile. Were this viewing not necessary, you would be enjoying a sleigh ride with all dispatch. Now then, I am ready, Bingley, are you?”

“I am. Enjoy your outing, Darcy,” Bingley sighed; Fitz lifting his eyes to the ceiling before tugging on his friend’s arm.

“Come. You arranged the time; it would not do to keep the solicitor waiting… every minute might draw the price higher.”

Hastening to the door, Bingley’s calls for speed could be heard as he made his way out into the snow, Fitz laughing as he followed after.

Pulling on his own great coat, Darcy bowed his head as the three Bennet sisters reached his side, the sleigh hopefully awaiting them as scheduled–hot bricks and piles of blankets as well, if the staff were attentive.

“Do you know if the sleigh has arrived?” Darcy asked Mr. Lombart, the butler standing straighter.

“It arrived several minutes ago,” he answered. “Everything required for the ladies’ comfort has been seen to, though if there is anything amiss, please let me know.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lombart, your efforts are much appreciated.” Turning to the ladies he smiled and motioned toward the door, “Are we all set?”

“Wait,” Lord Ramsgate cried as they scampered down the hall, “Lady Charmane only now made mention of your planned outing, I believe there ought to be room for one more.”

If they had but left a moment sooner.

“I imagine so. She did remark that she had it custom built to hold as many as six–in addition to the driver,” Darcy answered politely, though he made no effort to smile.

Lord Ramsgate had proved little better than Mr. Thomson. Though why such a man would wish to join them when he saw himself as superior was entirely beyond his comprehension–he had heard the rumours surrounding the Darcy family, and that made him one connection Lord Ramsgate would be disinclined to continue.

“Here,” Lord Ramsgate said as he held out his arms to Miss Bennet and Miss Mary, “allow me to escort you.”

Brows furrowed, Darcy watched as the two sisters reluctantly accepted his offer. That made little sense either. If not arguing with Miss Mary he had been actively avoiding the Bennets.

“Do you have any notion as to what he is up to?” Miss Elizabeth questioned as she neared him.

Extending his arm for her, he shook his head, “You noticed too?”

Walking toward the awaiting carriage she frowned. “Lord Ramsgate is not the type to spend a great deal of time in the company of untitled gentry if he can help it. I mean no insult to your family or mine when I say that we are unlikely to be his preferred companions… I also do not believe him to be a lover of sleigh rides, see there, already he shivers. Something has changed from even an hour ago; though I am at a loss to know why.”

Reaching the sleigh Darcy took her hand to help her in, whispering as he did, “I agree, and promise to keep watch.” Louder he questioned her sisters, “Are there enough blankets?”

“Ample,” Miss Mary laughed, Lord Ramsgate beside her rubbing his arms vigorously. “Are you warm enough, sir?”

“Of course I am; surely you do not doubt the fortitude of a man such as myself?”

Blinking as she observed him beginning to rub his hands together she answered, “Why should I doubt that?”

Lips tight, Miss Elizabeth’s eyes danced in delight as she observed her sister; the driver steering the sleigh onward as soon as Darcy was settled.

Covered in a thick layer of snow, the road vanished, the tracks made by the carriage Bingley and Fitz had taken the only marks as far as the eye could see, save the footfalls of man and beast which reminded the frozen world that not all slept.

Veering nearer the woods, the group observed the land around them in silent wonder, the great, gleaming bells decorating the sleigh and the four horses pulling it proclaiming their coming whether they wished it or not.

“Lovely,” Miss Bennet hushed as their driver ducked under laden bows, the disturbing of one showering them with powdery snow. “I do not know if even the poets could do it justice.”

“Compared to the ladies in this sleigh,” Lord Ramsgate declared suddenly, his attempts to keep warm ceased as he motioned to the Bennet sisters, “it–nature itself–pales and, indeed, becomes the vanquished! For fairer than the snow white of the world, these three hold true claim.”

The wide eyes of the three Bennet sisters met in confusion as Lord Ramsgate began to rub his arms and hands again.

The man must be insane, Darcy mused, one brow raising as he considered the Baron. All but ignoring the sisters since he arrived, then forcing his company on them, and now… strange attempts at flattery which were as pathetic as any he had heard. It made no sense.

Observing the way Miss Mary sat as far away from Lord Ramsgate, her arms crossed as she avoided his company, Darcy’s eyes flitted around him. If only Bingley had not chosen to view that estate today, Fitz would have been seated where the Baron was and her expression would not be one of discomfort.

Frowning, Darcy sought to enjoy the landscape as he had before, the sun peeking from behind a cloud causing the world to sparkle as fine jewels in candlelight.

Attention drawn by Miss Elizabeth as she pointed to a swift moving fox, Darcy instead focused on her, the pink of her face in the cold and the excitement in her eyes captivating.

Selfish as it might be, he had no desire to offer his place to Miss Mary–even if he could think of a reason which would not insult Lord Ramsgate. No. He would not readily leave Miss Elizabeth’s side… not at present… nor in the future.