Darcy smiled at his aunt’s gentle scolding and held up a hand. “Of course; I know you are a rational creature with your own mind. I have no doubt you speak from your heart.”
Years ago, Darcy’s aunt had been part of a circle of intellectual women who hosted a salon. Instead of the usual political wrangling and gambling, they promoted the arts. Several of the hostesses became renowned artists and writers. In the Darcy family, the term bluestocking was no insult. The same could not be said for his Fitzwilliam family. However, they had always liked the Darcy purse.
“I knew there was good Darcy blood in you,” the Baroness said. “Now, you know it is a commandment to obey your elders and so you must indulge an old lady. My one regret in not having children of my own is that there is no one to take up my torch when I’m gone.”
Georgiana screwed up her face in confusion. “I thought Fitzwilliam was your heir?”
“Of the title and the money, of course. I mean of my passion!” Lady Darcy paused and nodded at another titled lady who walked past them and toward the card tables.
“Music?” Georgiana asked.
“Music, writing, art. Female artists funded by females.”
Darcy tugged on his cravat. These days, talk of women pursuing such things for intellectual stimulation, income, or world renown was akin to espousing favour for France’s Revolution. The ones who could most support such a project happened to fear for their necks.
“Fitzwilliam, I’m putting you to work. Bring me the brightest young women you can find of good stock and decent income and I will fashion them into patronesses.”
“If I could find such a young woman, I would marry her,” Darcy said even as a pair of fine, dancing eyes came to mind. However, Elizabeth Bennet did not come from good family or decent income.
“What’s the matter with him, Georgie?”
Darcy blinked to find his aunt studying him closely.
Georgiana rolled her eyes. “That’s the look on his face whenever he thinks of her.”
“Her? Are you courting a lady and did not tell me?”
“Of course not, Aunt. You know you would be the first to know anything I do.” He tried to remain serious but his subtle smirk gave away his sarcastic words and immediately Georgiana and his aunt were grinning.
“La! You make me sound a pest! I will not be like your other aunt then and meddle in your business. You do not have to tell me who, but if Georgie’s female intuition tells her you are sweet on a girl, you cannot hide it for long.”
Darcy tugged on his cravat again. With any luck, he would not remain sweet on her for much longer. Surely there was someone who met his qualifications for a wife. The problem was, now that his aunt had stated who she looked for in intellectual companions, Darcy could not help but notice they were the same as what he always said he wanted in a wife. And while he would always desire an intelligent wife, a spouse was something far different than a philosophical colleague. No lady had piqued his interest in eight and twenty years the way Elizabeth Bennet had. Perhaps choosing a wife involved some indefinable quality, an attraction as well as intellectual compatibility.
“I think we have him thinking on her again, Georgie,” his aunt teased and Darcy scowled.
“Tell me more about this project of yours, Aunt. We are to go to the theatre tomorrow: perhaps we might find a lady who suits your demands.”
“That is the problem with you,” she said after an exasperated sigh.
“What is?”
Georgiana laughed at him. “Everyone knows, most who frequent the theatre care little about the plays. They go just to be seen.”
“And where would you expect a true appreciator of theatre to go?”
“They might go,” Lady Darcy said, “but they would not be so bold as to confess the reason.”
“How preposterous! Do you think so meanly of your sex?”
The Baroness laughed at him. “I have years more experience than you do, my boy. I know such a lady is a diamond of the first water. There is a disadvantage to this generation. In my day, ladies fought hard to receive any education. The ones who persevered beyond basic letters and math were often taught by their fathers or their brothers’ tutors. Now, ladies’ heads are filled with false accomplishments and vain pursuits. I fear it is impossible to find a learned lady who is not muddled with such mush.”
“Could not the same be said of gentlemen? Now, everyone attends school and University but few come out with any true greater understanding and mastery of the subjects.”
“The essential point, Fitzwilliam, is that when they are taught it is to be of use to their estate, profession, or the country. Ladies’ so called “refined” education is to be of use in only this,” she waved her hand around at the drawing room.
Various clusters of people congregated together. One group played Commerce, another Whist. A third group sat near the fire and discussed politics. One lord’s wife winked at a member of parliament of the opposite party and then leaned in close. The scene suggested exchanging favours for votes.
One day, Darcy would inherit the barony first created for John Darcy in 1317, and God help him if Pemberley or any home he resided in took on such a scene. His aunt was very much correct. Ladies were not encouraged to think beyond empty, or sometimes immoral — whether seducing an opponent or a man to the altar — pursuits.
Aware he had been silent too long, Darcy addressed his aunt with his purpose in coming this evening. “I have been wondering, Aunt, do you have any suggestions for a companion for Georgiana? As you know, I resisted finding a replacement for Mrs. Younge, but you have convinced me that her education might be lacking.”
“Of course. I will have a list with references drawn up when you tomorrow. Do not worry,” she said when Georgiana furrowed her brow, “you shall help decide. Now, I have ignored my guests for long enough. Do try to enjoy yourselves before you leave,” she said as she stood.
With all the grace and poise an eighty-year-old baroness could muster, she walked through the room. When the group at the fire seemed to grow too contentious, she redirected the more outspoken ones to the supper room. Those prone to gambling too high were arranged near the fire, away from the card tables. Indeed, no school could teach such instincts. Magdalena Darcy, tenth Baroness Darcy de jure, might be the last of her kind and her heir apparent could only hope his eventual wife might be just as capable.
Chapter Two
My Dearest Niece,
I send you my love as do your uncle and cousins. The girls greatly miss you, and you are welcome back at any time. I know my words are poor comfort after all the turmoil you have been through, but recall a great life can come from the loss you have faced.
Your loving Aunt,
A.F.
“Did you enjoy the performance, Lizzy?” Mr. Edward Gardiner asked the niece sitting to his right.
“Very much. I can hardly recall a time I enjoyed the theatre more,” Elizabeth replied. In truth, however, her mind had wandered.
She had arrived in London yesterday with Sir William Lucas and his daughter. Tomorrow they were to leave and continue their journey on to Hunsford, Kent, where Sir William’s eldest daughter, and Elizabeth’s former best friend, now lived with her husband. Ordinarily, she would have much to look forward to with such a journey, and she always enjoyed spending time with her aunt and uncle, yet she felt unsettled. Whilst they did not often go to the theatre, and she always enjoyed the outing, tonight, her mind was full of other things. Now that she could no longer speak to her father, she began to wonder if she should have.
Elizabeth had been following her uncle blindly through the crowd, too anxious to appear normal, when she accidentally stumbled into a solid form.
“Pardon me! I am so sorry!” she exclaimed while reeling backwards.
Strong hands captured her elbows and steadied her. “Are you certain you are well — Miss Bennet!”
Elizabeth heard the astonished tone of Mr. Darcy’s familiar voice and finally looked u
p. Of all the people she had to crash into in London, it had to be him?
“Forgive me, Mr. Darcy. I should have taken better care of where I was going,” she said.
“Think nothing of it,” he said with a kinder tone than she could recall from their meetings in Hertfordshire. “You are uninjured?” he anxiously looked her up and down.
Elizabeth allowed a soft chuckle to escape before her reply. “I am sturdier than that.”
“Indeed. I recall you walking several miles to visit your ill sister. Surely one misstep in a crowded hall did you no damage.”
Elizabeth knit her brows. She was confused by his continued and odd conversation. He suddenly seemed to recollect himself.
“It is a surprise seeing you in London. Have you been here long?” He seemed to anxiously scan the room. He likely wanted to find an acquaintance to escape to or hoped to leave before her other relatives came upon him.
“No, I am only here for one night at my aunt and uncle’s before going with Sir William Lucas to visit his daughter, who is now settled in Kent.” There was no mistaking his look of anxiety eased as she confirmed her family was not nearby. “My eldest sister has been here many weeks, though,” Elizabeth said in a sharp tone. She was confident he knew of it. “Have you never seen her?”
Elizabeth had expected to shock him. Instead, he looked confused. “No, I have not had the pleasure.”
After an awkward silence between them, she heard Jane’s anxious voice. “There she is!”
As the rest of her party approached, Elizabeth curtsied and made to leave, but Mr. Darcy suddenly spoke.
“How is the rest of your family? I hope they are in good health.”
“Yes, they all are well. We have heard nothing of Mr. Bingley and his sisters. I trust they are well, only busy with London,” she said just as Jane and her aunt and uncle approached. She did not miss the heightened anxiety across Jane’s face when she detected whom Elizabeth had been speaking with and heard the name of Bingley.
“Elizabeth, what happened?” Mr. Gardiner asked her but glared at Mr. Darcy. Belatedly, Elizabeth realised they really should not have continued their conversation so long.
“I was so enraptured still with the performance, that I was not watching where I stepped. I was unknowingly separated from you and stumbled, literally, into this acquaintance of mine, Mr. Darcy. We met last autumn. He stayed with his friend, Mr. Bingley, who leased Netherfield Park.”
A look of recognition flickered across Mrs. Gardiner’s face, and her uncle’s features cooled as well. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sir William and Maria Lucas say goodbye to a friend and draw near to their assembled party. As Elizabeth made the necessary introductions to her aunt and uncle, she consciously watched Darcy’s reaction. He looked anxious, but there was not the expression of hauteur she had known him to have in Hertfordshire.
“It is absolutely capital to see you again, Mr. Darcy!” Sir William said and nearly bounced on his toes. “Did Miss Eliza tell you we are soon to be visiting Hunsford? You will recall my eldest daughter, Charlotte, of course. She was fortunate enough to marry the rector to your very aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
“You are to be at Rosings?” he asked in a tone that Elizabeth felt accusatory, but no one else seemed put off by.
“We shall stay in the parsonage, of course,” Elizabeth replied. “I doubt we will see the estate at all,” she said. At first, she could not understand why he would be so possessive of the place, but then she recalled that he would marry his cousin, the heiress of Rosings.
Darcy smiled, confusing Elizabeth greatly, before replying. “You are mistaken then, Miss Elizabeth. My aunt takes a very minute interest in her parish. I know she often has her rector and his wife dine with her and know she would extend the courtesy to their guests.”
“Indeed! I had not expected such condescension,” said Sir William. “However, now that I think about it, I am not surprised. I have often noted such elegant breeding among those at court.”
Elizabeth tried to hide a smile. Before Mr. Darcy was required to reply, two tall and elegantly dressed ladies approached. One was about the correct age to be Mr. Darcy’s grandmother or other older relative. The other lady had a womanly figure and shape, but her youthful face and nervous demeanour were that of a girl just entering society.
“Fitzwilliam, would you introduce us to your friends?” the older lady asked.
Mr. Darcy complied. Elizabeth then learned that the ladies were his aunt, Baroness Darcy, and his sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy, of whom Elizabeth and Jane had heard much from Mr. Bingley’s sisters. Elizabeth expected a haughty attitude, but there was only graciousness from Lady Darcy and shyness from Miss Darcy.
“It is a pleasure to meet any acquaintances of Fitzwilliam’s,” Lady Darcy said. “Will you be in London for long?” she asked.
Sir William hedged. “We are breaking our journey to Hunsford, Kent from Hertfordshire to visit my eldest daughter. She lately married the rector to Rosings estate.”
“Oh! My cousin, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is the mistress of Rosings!” Lady Darcy exclaimed. “How fascinating! Fitzwilliam shall soon be visiting there.”
The two talked of Rosings for a few minutes while Mr. Darcy, to the exclusion of nearly everyone else, spoke to Elizabeth and his sister. “Georgiana, Miss Elizabeth is a delightful performer on the pianoforte. I am sure you share some common interests in musical selections,” he said gently.
“I recall from your letters,” Miss Darcy murmured. “Do you not think, Miss Elizabeth, that the new music we have recently had in London to be of the most expressive kind?”
Elizabeth hid her surprise that Darcy had written of her and smiled at the young girl. “We certainly live in exciting times. Among the terrible things about this war is that it takes much the longer for us to get the newer works from Vienna, where so many of the best composers reside.” She stepped closer to Miss Darcy to say in a conspiratory tone, “Perhaps you will just have to write your own works.”
Miss Darcy gasped and Mr. Darcy chuckled.
Most surprising of all, Lady Darcy said, “That is precisely what I have been attempting to tell the girl for months!”
Elizabeth blushed at her forwardness, but the titled lady met Mr. Darcy’s eyes and then nodded her head as though they decided something in silent communication. She spoke with authoritative gentleness.
“This is not the fashion at all, but I am an old woman entitled to my eccentricities. I invite you all tomorrow to my home in Park Lane at two.”
With the invitation to the illustrious address in the Mayfair district, any expectation Elizabeth had of Sir William declining the offer died. He agreed with alacrity, and her relatives were no less agreeable. As they boarded the carriage to return to the Gardiner residence, Elizabeth’s worries about Wickham’s vulgar boasting evaporated. In their place, Elizabeth could only wonder about the strange set of circumstances that now meant she would be visiting both sets of Mr. Darcy’s titled aunts in as few days.
*****
The party arrived at Lady Darcy’s residence with anxious punctuality. Elizabeth noted the simple elegance of the home. Never having heard previously of Mr. Darcy’s connection to another titled relative, she researched the matter the night before.
Her ladyship was the eldest daughter of Barbara Fitzwilliam and Lord Henry Darcy, the last Baron. Her title was one of the few remaining that could pass through the female line. As she had no children herself, for years her heir presumptive was her nephew. George Darcy’s father had taken the Darcy surname when he married the Baroness’ sister. When George died, his son, Fitzwilliam Darcy, became the new heir.
Elizabeth considered Charlotte’s words to her about the rich having reason to be proud. She supposed Charlotte would say the same about the titled. Yet, why was Elizabeth only now hearing of it? Should not Darcy wish to tell everyone? Perhaps he merely assumed all the world knew of it. When a Bennet journeyed to London, they stayed with the Gar
diners, where gossip of nobility and their heirs had no significance. They were not like Sir William, who regularly attended St. James’, nor were they like Mr. Collins and salivated over peers. In truth, whilst Mr. Bennet was one of the foremost gentlemen in their corner of Hertfordshire, Elizabeth suddenly realised how insignificant they were compared to the peers of the world.
Elizabeth spoke very little as she was seated near Miss Darcy and Maria. She had hoped the two girls, of such a close age, would encourage each other to talk more but they were both too terrified. Although Lady Darcy did not appear to have the usual infirmities a woman of her age, she allowed Darcy to play the host. It proved to Elizabeth how often the Darcy siblings visited their aunt.
After the tea-things had been taken away, a tour was offered. Miss Darcy had gone to speak to Lady Darcy, leaving Maria alone with Elizabeth when Mr. Darcy approached. Before he reached her side, however, Maria fled for the safety of Jane and Mrs. Gardiner. The behaviour humoured Elizabeth, and its contrast to how she imagined her youngest sister, Lydia, might behave, made Elizabeth give out a resigned sigh.
She no longer trusted Mr. Wickham, but it did not mean she had to like Mr. Darcy. In truth, her reasoning for believing Wickham’s story about Darcy was out of a desire to find a fault real enough for others, like her father, to dislike Darcy. To Mr. Bennet, it was not sufficient that Darcy had insulted his favourite daughter upon first sight or was too haughty to mix with their neighbourhood functions. Nor was the fact that he obviously used his influence over Mr. Bingley, a concern for her father. Her father made light of the fact that his eldest daughter, Jane, now suffered from a broken heart. Elizabeth knew it was simply her father’s way of expressing concern by interjecting humour. However, Elizabeth had mixed feelings about approaching him with her concerns about Wickham.
For Lydia’s sake, Elizabeth determined to speak with Mr. Darcy and hope to understand Wickham better. Her sense of justice revolted at approaching the man she suspected responsible for causing her dearest sister’s heartbreak, but Jane was too kind-hearted to listen to Elizabeth’s beliefs on the matter anyway. It was not truly choosing loyalty to one sister over the other.
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