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Chapter Twenty-Eight

February 3, 1812 Montrose House, London Elizabeth

“O h, dear.” Grandmother frowned as she read the paper. “This is not at all what I expected.”

Elizabeth waited for her to expound, but when she did not, she cleared her throat. “Grandmother? Of what are you talking?”

“Darcy’s name has made into the tattle sheets.” She tut-tutted and handed the paper to Elizabeth.

She accepted it and read where Lady Montrose indicated.

Dear Reader,

After so many generations of dull—though very wealthy gentlemen from Derbyshire—one has managed to shock this writer. His actions may shake the very foundations of the ton for years to come! Mr. F. D. was seen leaving the theater last night with an unknown woman. Fear not, for I have learned her identity. The mysterious beauty is a new courtesan, found in the wilds of the North. Her raven hair and flawless complexion would tempt any man. That she has managed to ensnare the illusive F. D. testifies to her arts and allurements.

What will come of the mesalliance, I wonder! Lady Featherdown will discover it all.

Elizabeth could not suppress a laugh. “Who could believe such ridiculous drivel?” she asked, still chuckling.

“You do not?” Lady Montrose peered at her over the rim of her spectacles, her lips pinched in disapproval. “How can you be so sure? You have scarcely known Darcy for more than six months.”

“Grandmother, he was here last night.”

“Oh.” Lady Montrose looked momentarily abashed. “I ought to have remembered that.”

“Even had he not been, I should never have believed it. Darcy is the best of men; the most honorable man I have ever known. I only wish we might announce our engagement.”

“When you are properly introduced to the ton as my granddaughter, I shall give my consent to announce it. I am a selfish creature—I shall not have much time with you as it is, darling!”

After speaking at length with Jane and the Bennets, Elizabeth and Darcy had decided they would not marry in March. At Lady Montrose’s request, they had agreed to delay the wedding until after the Season on the condition that they be permitted to exchange their vows at Longbourn Church. They would return to Meryton for a few days in March to celebrate Jane’s nuptials, after which Lady Montrose intended to host a grand ball in honor of Elizabeth’s birthday, There, she would be formally introduced to society, and her engagement to Mr. Darcy would be announced.

Jameson stepped into the breakfast room. “Mr. Darcy, my lady.”

“Show him in.” She turned to Elizabeth with a knowing look. “He has likely seen that rag and seeks to reassure you of his love.”

Darcy came in, a harried look in his eyes. “Elizabeth,” he said, scarcely acknowledging her ladyship, “I swear, it is not so.”

She laughed softly, extending her hand. He dropped to one knee as he took it. “What amuses you?” he asked, clearly bewildered by her response.

“You were here last night, you silly man! Do you truly think me so foolish as to credit a baseless rumor that paints you as dishonorable? Never.”

He exhaled, and bowed his head, visibly relieved. “I ought to have known you would not cast me aside at so little provocation.”

“I would not call rumors of a mistress little provocation,” Lady Montrose interjected, raising a stern brow. “If you harm her in any way…” She left the threat hanging in the air.

“On my honor, Lady Montrose, there is no one for me but Elizabeth. She is my world, and I would never dishonor her in such a disgraceful manner.” Darcy spoke earnestly, and his complete lack of guile warmed Elizabeth’s heart.

“Very well, I shall believe you. But what prompted this strange bit of gossip?” Lady Montrose frowned again. “It cannot be a coincidence.”

“You are seeing demons where there are none,” Elizabeth said soothingly. “Why would anyone target Darcy now? What motive could they have? What would they hope to achieve?”

Her grandmother shuddered. “I cannot help but think this has something to do with you , my dear. Could someone have connected Darcy’s name with yours and now wishes to separate you?”

Elizabeth felt a tremor of unease but pushed it aside. “It cannot be. Why would anyone do it? If someone wished to win my affection, attacking Darcy is hardly the best-conceived plan. There is no guarantee I would choose that person, even if I gave up my love. As my happiness rests so firmly on Darcy, that sort of ploy would be doomed from the outset.”

Lady Montrose did not appear convinced. She rose from the table with quiet resolve. “We have callers coming,” she told Elizabeth, changing the subject. “Many are my friends, and all hold considerable influence in society. They will speak of you to their children, and from there, word will spread through the circles of the ton. ”

“Will they speak favorably of Elizabeth?” Darcy asked with concern.

“I chose the guests with care. You may be assured their reports will be favorable.” Lady Montrose replied with a resolute nod.

Elizabeth rose to accompany her grandmother whilst Darcy prepared to take his leave. He had several meetings of business to attend and was due back at Darcy House. “I shall call later,” he promised.

The Bennets and Jane had returned to Longbourn three days prior. Elizabeth missed them dreadfully, though she was content enough in her grandmother’s house. Having Darcy near was a balm to her aching heart. Lady Montrose had offered to hire an express rider solely for the delivery of letters between London and Longbourn. Elizabeth had demurred, for now, but admitted she might avail herself of the luxury in the future.

The first callers soon arrived, and Lady Montrose received them with warm enthusiasm. Amongst them was Mrs. Eva Harrington, accompanied by her daughter. “Lady Montrose,” the Dowager Countess said with gracious formality, “may I present my friend, Mrs. Eva Harrington, and her daughter, Mrs. Anna Norton.”

The ladies curtsied, Mrs. Norton offered a warm smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Montrose. And to see your grandmother smiling once more, though I suspect society will require time to adjust to having two Lady Montroses.”

Elizabeth’s brows lifted slightly at her grandmother’s use of her new title, but she understood—it must be so from now on.

“Have you long known my grandmother?” Elizabeth asked with polite interest.

“Oh, yes, quite some time—two decades or more,” Mrs. Norton replied, casting a fond glance toward the Dowager Countess. “She and my mother met at Almack’s. I was ten years old at the time, I believe.” Mrs. Norton accepted a cup of tea and settled beside Mrs. Harrington. “You have quite stirred the ton , your ladyship. I cannot have a single gathering without being peppered with questions. Your grandmother is wise to keep you to herself for a time.”

“There were many matters that required our attention,” Elizabeth replied carefully. Unable to discern her tone, Elizabeth was not certain whether Mrs. Norton meant to chide or merely make small talk.

“Oh, certainly! I understand there was much to arrange—your inheritance, the move to Montrose House… No, I do not blame you in the slightest for hiding yourself these past four weeks.”

“I hardly hid. My…the Bennets stayed very near, and we saw one another often.” Elizabeth felt a prickle of defensiveness—if this lady dared to speak ill of her adopted family…

“How lovely! And generous of them, truly, to have taken in a child of no relation.” Mrs. Norton’s smile seemed sincere, and Elizabeth allowed herself to relax—just a little.

“We were shopping for my sister’s wedding clothes,” she said, steering the subject elsewhere. “Jane is to marry Mr. Charles Bingley.” No need to say that it was the same man who discovered her in Hertfordshire.

“I know the name.” Mrs. Norton tapped her chin. “Oh, yes…his sister is marrying Sir James Blackwell, is she not? The Blackwells are not of the first circles, but are a respectable family. Her marriage will benefit the whole Bingley connection!”

“Beyond his pedigree, Sir James is a kind and attentive man.”

Mrs. Norton nodded. “Yes, that is certainly a factor for some. Well, I am happy for them. And for you.”

Mrs. Harrington and Mrs. Norton took their leave a short while later. They had barely a moment to reflect before more guests were announced. And so, the morning progressed. One lady followed another, each bringing polite curiosity and carefully phrased questions, and Elizabeth answered as best she could. None behaved with false politeness, at least so far as she could tell, and though she felt entirely worn out by the end of calling hours, she was quietly pleased that the day had gone so well.

Lady Montrose took Elizabeth on calls or to other small, private gatherings every day the following week. Darcy called regularly during the day and occasionally dined at Montrose House. One afternoon, he brought his sister to meet Elizabeth, and she could not have been more pleased with the young lady.

Georgiana Darcy was a kind, quiet girl. Though her round cheeks betrayed her youth, there was a seriousness in her manner that made her seem older than her years. Elizabeth tried several topics to encourage the conversation before settling on music, which at last inspired Miss Darcy to speak with animation of her favorite composers.

“I play the pianoforte and the harp,” she said shyly, “but as the pianoforte is more often found in company, I have grown more practiced with it.”

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “I also play the pianoforte, but I have never become truly proficient. That distinction belongs to my sister, Mary.”

“My brother says you play very well.”

“Then he has perjured himself thoroughly! Darcy, did you not mean my sister when you offered such praise?” Elizabeth laughed as her betrothed’s ears flushed.

“I shall stand by my statement. You play very well, and nothing has given me greater pleasure than hearing you perform.” His gaze warmed her from within.

“Have I performed a great many times in your presence?” she asked lightly.

“Yes. Remember, we dined in company many times, and the hostesses almost always called for exhibitions.” He reached out and took her hand.

Georgiana cleared her throat delicately, causing Elizabeth to blush. “Perhaps you and Lady Montrose will be available to come to Darcy House for tea next week,” she said hopefully.

“I shall ask my grandmother. I do not foresee any obstacle. We have no fixed engagements that I recall. Pray, do send round the invitation.”

Winters

“Well, that ploy failed,” he groaned. “Darcy and the girl are still keeping company. I would have expected Lady Montrose to cut the acquaintance.”

“Them rich types rarely make sense.” Jarvis fingered his knife, his feet up on the table. Winters hated it when he put his disgusting boots where they ate.

“Want I should take care of yer problem, sir?” the hired man asked, smiling with relish.

Winter’s stomach churned. He did not want to kill her—nor have someone else do it. Standing, he crossed the room to his writing desk and retrieved the letter that had come only an hour before. A boy had brought it. All his post went to another location before reaching him. He remained ever cautious about being discovered.

Dear Sir,

After speaking with knowledgeable sources and investigating the state of my niece’s company, I present a counteroffer for you to consider. Lady Montrose will accept a sum of one hundred thousand pounds in exchange for her father’s controlling shares of the company, the warehouses still in his name located in Yorkshire, and even his house, if it is your desire.

I believe this compensation to be more than equitable and look forward to your letter.

Yours, etc.,

Edward Gardiner

He scoffed in disgust. Winters would not even dignify the missive with a response. “What do you know about this man?” He tossed the letter at Jarvis. “You investigated Miss Montrose’s adopted relations.” He should have known Lady Montrose would stick her nose in his business.

“Gardiner’s in imports an’ exports. Owns warehouses in Cheapside—done well fer ’imself. Very good ’ead for business. You ain’t gonna talk ’im down. I wager ’e already offered you a bargain.”

“I am very aware of what my company is worth!” But he did not have the assets to purchase Montrose’s share—not at that price. The amount he had offered Miss Montrose was less than half the value of everything listed in Gardiner’s letter.

“The only way to get yer ’ands on it now is to—” Jarvis made a slicing motion across his throat.

Winters sighed and sat down. “I had hoped it would not come to this.” Not again.

“The girl walks in the park every day. Takes a footman with ‘er, but I can deal wit ’im easily. Quick grab ’n the job’ll be done. You’ll get yer business, and I’ll get me cut.”

“Of course, of course.” Sighing heavily, he waved a hand. “Do what you must. But do not get caught.”

“Got an idea, I think. There’s a bounder turned up when I looked into our problem. ’Ad some kind o’ fallin’ out with Darcy years ago. Down on ’is luck now. Let’s see if we can get ’im to do the dirty work fer us.”

Winters nodded in agreement. Best to keep their hands as clean as possible and let someone else take the risk. “Give him whatever he wants in the way of compensation—within reason, of course.”

Jarvis grinned wickedly, and Winters sighed in resignation. He knew that if Jarvis had any say in the matter, his mark would not see a farthing. More likely, he would end up taking a permanent dip in the Thames.

He did not acknowledge Jarvis’s departure. Instead, he took his seat before the fire and stared into the flames in stony silence. Time was running out. Dangerous men waited to collect on his debts, and he could not put them off much longer. Even now, he hid within his house, afraid to step outside for fear that they would find him and take what they were owed—out of his hide, if necessary.

He had no doubt Jarvis would succeed. The man was terribly persuasive. Winters had met him by chance whilst traveling. What he had done before entering Winters’s service was a mystery, though he suspected that Jarvis had run with smugglers. He operated with stealth and cunning and would do anything his master required—so long as he was paid.

Of course, he wanted half the business profits in time, but Winters had no intention of keeping him that long. Jarvis believed him soft. But even he did not know what Winters was capable of. No one did. No one alive, at any rate. And he meant to keep it that way. I suppose it is inevitable that the girl be dealt with, he thought.

The door opened a few hours later. “Did you accomplish your aims?” Winters asked without turning to look at the newcomer.

“O’course I did—said yes straight off. Seems ’is grudge against that wealthy nob goes deep.” There came the sound of movement as Jarvis rummaged about. He came to Winters’s side with a decanter and two glasses. He watched as Jarvis set them down and then filled them nearly to the brim. Then he raised his glass and toasted: “To fat profits.” Winters took the offered glass and took a sip. It was cheap wine, but he savored the bitter flavor before swallowing. “To our future, indeed,” he muttered, raising his glass to Jarvis. “May it come sooner rather than later.”