Page 34 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)

Darcy tamped down his temper. It did no good to indulge it. Action, not anger, would best serve Miss Elizabeth. “Regardless of personal feelings, something must be done. Miss Bingley’s behaviour today has crossed a line, and Hurst, your wife is not much better.”

“Agreed,” Bingley said, his voice hardening. “I will speak to Caroline again. She was warned. Now she will go to our family and reside in Yorkshire the moment the bridge is declared sound.”

Bingley’s tone was decided, and Darcy approved. His friend had chosen resolution over peace.

“If that is the way of it,” Hurst said, standing, “I shall be returning to London with Louisa. She is a better woman when not under Caroline’s influence, and frankly, I should like my wife back.”

“That does leave the question of who shall escort Caroline,” Bingley mused.

“She can take the cat,” Hurst added. “It may be the only living thing in this house that does not mind her.”

Bingley shook his head. “The cat does not like her either.”

Darcy snorted despite himself.

“Well, that is for you to manage, Bingley. A man must have his priorities,” Hurst said. “Mine is reclaiming my household.”

“And mine,” Bingley said, “is the same.”

“You will be left without a hostess,” Darcy warned.

“Not for long,” Bingley replied .

Darcy regarded his friend with surprise. He hoped that Bingley would not bend at the first tearful appeal. This new edge of quiet confidence beneath the affable charm suited him. And for all their sakes, he would need to hold firm.

“Good man.” Hurst downed the last of his brandy and for once, did not refill his glass immediately. “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth have been managing the household beautifully anyway.”

They had indeed been assisting with the displaced tenants and their children, managing the upheaval with fortitude. Mrs. Nicholls now deferred more to the Miss Bennets than to Miss Bingley.

"Because they possess excellent characters," Darcy replied bluntly. “And the servants know it.”

"Louisa could do the same, if she ever decided she might like to emulate them. After a few months in Caroline’s sole company, she possesses only a collection of complaints and a remarkable ability to avoid anything that might soil her gloves."

"You speak rather harshly of your own wife," Darcy said.

"I speak honestly of my wife," Hurst corrected.

"I am not blind to her faults, and she is not blind to mine.

But I draw the line at allowing her to participate in schemes against innocent young ladies.

This one was stupid, but left to it, Caroline will only learn how to improve her performance next time. "

Darcy stood, brushing a speck of lint from his sleeve more out of habit than necessity.

There would be consequences to Miss Bingley's removal.

Repercussions in society, perhaps, and certainly within the family.

But at last, the air felt clearer, the direction firmer.

Bingley was accepting his role, and Hurst, for all his idleness, had proven unexpectedly sensible.

"I confess," Darcy said, "Miss Bingley's campaign to diminish Miss Elizabeth has been remarkably effective, though not in the manner she intended. Indeed, I have never been more thoroughly convinced of a lady's superiority."

“Only a friend, eh?” Bingley teased. “You need say no more. Hurst and I are entirely convinced.”

“Shut it, Bingley,” Darcy told him lightly, and exited the room.

An hour later, there was a soft knock at Darcy’s chamber door. "Enter," he called.

Harrison entered, wearing an expression that suggested he had something particular on his mind. “Forgive me, sir, I came to tidy up.”

“You have done so already.”

Harrison looked about him. “So I have.”

Darcy studied his valet's carefully neutral expression. Harrison had served with distinction, and military life had given him a directness that sometimes bordered on the inappropriate for a gentleman's servant. It was a quality Darcy had come to value, even when it occasionally discomfited him.

"If I may speak freely, sir?"

"I have yet to succeed in curing you of the habit."

Harrison's lips twitched. "It is hard to shake the notion that an officer benefits from honest counsel, even when he does not particularly wish to hear it."

"And what honest counsel do you offer now?"

"The servants do talk, sir.”

Darcy had never known a home where they did not, not even Pemberley. “And what are they saying? ”

“That Miss Bingley's behaviour today was beneath contempt, sir. To attempt such a scheme against a lady of Miss Elizabeth's character, however poorly executed . . ." Harrison shook his head. "Well, it speaks poorly of her upbringing, if you will pardon my saying so."

Had Harrison expected him to ignore Miss Bingley’s poor behaviour? "I am in complete agreement with your observations."

"Good," Harrison said with satisfaction. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, "I hope you will forgive my speaking so boldly, sir. Colonel Fitzwilliam always said I had too many opinions for my own good. If you would prefer someone more conventional, I could seek another position."

The suggestion caught Darcy off guard. "Whatever gave you such a notion?"

"Well, sir, I know my manner is not quite what is expected from a gentleman's servant. Most valets would not dare dream of commenting on their employer's personal affairs or offering unsolicited opinions about their friends."

Darcy considered this for a moment. Harrison had not offered to change his behaviour, only his employment.

He shook his head. "Harrison, I need a man I can trust more than I need someone who is au courant with every London fashion.

Your honesty and reliability are worth far more to me than your fashion sense. "

Harrison's face lit with a grin that transformed his usually serious expression.

"Well then, sir, perhaps I should mention that I can do both. Trust and honesty do not preclude keeping you properly turned out.” He lifted his brows.

“In fact, I have been meaning to implement some of the latest developments in gentlemen's fashion. "

"Have you indeed?" Darcy's wary tone seemed to make Harrison's smile widen .

"Indeed, sir. I hear the new coats are cut so high and tight, one cannot breathe. Naturally, I thought of you."

Darcy frowned. "I suppose strangulation is now considered fashionable."

"Of course not, sir. But you are a gentleman of consequence who should present himself to best advantage. I have been creating a knot I call the Beau Brummel . . ."

“Absolutely not.”

“Three folds, sir. Only three. Any more and you would be mistaken for a Frenchman.”

“Three folds too many, if you ask me.”

“There is no better way to convey one’s superiority than with a perfect knot that no one else has.”

“If my knot must speak for me, I am already undone.”

Harrison bowed with mock humility. “Really, sir, it would reflect terribly well on you.”

Darcy gave him a long-suffering look. “I suppose next you shall be suggesting a cravat that spells out my initials."

Harrison’s smile was unsettling. “Now that is an idea.”

"Harrison," Darcy interrupted with mock severity, "I begin to think I should send you back to my cousin after all. Military life would cure you of these frivolous notions."

"Oh, but sir," Harrison replied with evident enjoyment, "where would be the challenge in dressing a soldier? Anyone can make a uniform look respectable. It takes real skill to make a gentleman of fashion look properly distinguished while maintaining the dignity appropriate to his station."

"I am not a gentleman of fashion," Darcy protested. "I am a gentleman with responsibilities. "

"Who happens to frequent one of the finest tailors in London and has an obligation to represent his family name with appropriate elegance," Harrison countered smoothly. "Besides, think how impressed Miss Elizabeth would be to see you looking particularly fine . . .”

Now he understood the sudden interest in finery. "Harrison!"

"Yes, sir?" Harrison asked with mock innocence.

"You go too far."

"My apologies, sir. Though I did see some rather striking examples of waistcoats at Weston's last month. There was one with a particular shade of copper that would make your eyes look quite remarkable."

"Copper?" Darcy asked suspiciously.

"Deep and rich. Very understated, but unmistakably elegant."

Despite himself, Darcy wondered whether Miss Elizabeth would like it. He had noted her fine eyes early on. Perhaps she would notice his.

"The finest Lyonnaise silk, sir. Woven in a raised pattern so subtle it appears solid until the light catches it just so. I took the liberty of obtaining a sample." Harrison moved to a small case and produced a square piece of fabric.

Darcy examined it despite himself. The fabric was indeed remarkable, rich and luxurious without being ostentatious. "Perhaps one waistcoat."

"Ah, you see? Even you are not immune. At this rate, we will have you in peacock blue by Christmas."

"Perish the thought."

"A gentleman understands that proper dress is a form of courtesy to others."

"Then my plainness is the sincerest compliment I can offer."

Harrison’s grin turned sly, and Darcy realised his valet had been teasing all along. “Very true, which is why I shall desist from yellow stripes and golden cravats. But the copper waistcoat . . . that I meant in earnest. ”

"Out," Darcy said, though he laughed as he said it.

But something occurred to him then that sobered him at once.

Darcy had prided himself on his composure, certain that no flicker of admiration or slip of speech had betrayed him.

Yet Bingley, with his usual cheer, had teased him about Elizabeth; Hurst, indolent though he was, had smirked knowingly; and even Harrison was planning new clothing to help him on his way.

If they had seen it, then what of Miss Elizabeth?

The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit, for while he believed himself master of his countenance, he could not shake the dreadful suspicion that the lady herself might have discerned the very feelings he had worked so diligently to conceal. And what then?

For now, he would watch, wait, and keep his promise to defend her peace.