Thursday's Child

by Pat Santarsiero

  Caroline and Louisa tittered behind their fans.

  Elizabeth could not make out any further comments as the two women had now begun their departure from the balcony.

  Elizabeth slowly turned and walked back towards the ballroom. When she found Jane and Mr. Bingley, she pleaded exhaustion and excused herself to her rooms. As she lay awake in bed that night, she thought about all she had heard on the balcony.

  That Mr. Darcy had admitted he would never consider marrying someone so beneath his society should have had no effect upon her, since she had already purged her heart of him. Hadn’t she? She could not account for why it bothered her so to hear it.

  And had he tried to help separate Jane and Mr. Bingley?

  Elizabeth took little offense to Caroline’s insulting comments for they were of no consequence. Her only concern was being able to stay with her daughter for as long as possible. And if being in Mr. Darcy’s good graces allowed her that pleasure, she would do everything she could to remain so.

  She only prayed that Mr. Darcy would never entertain the notion of an attachment to Miss Bingley. The thought of Caroline Bingley as stepmother to her daughter made her cringe. It was unsettling just hearing the woman mention her daughter.

  She was surprised, however, to learn of the circumstances of Mr. Darcy’s marriage. Had he married Anne only out of familial duty? It had not been the love match she had surmised?

  Mr. Darcy had been right about one thing. Disguise of every sort is sooner or later revealed. Their night of dreaming in the library was known by Caroline Bingley. But for some strange reason that did not bring her the angst she would have imagined.

  ~*~

  “Can I interest you in a nightcap, Bingley?”

  “As a matter of fact, Darcy, you can!” replied a fatigued but very happy Charles Bingley. “I think the ball was a great success.”

  At that moment Richard joined the two gentlemen in the study and agreed, “Indeed, it was.”

  Although the hour was late and all three had spent most of the evening on their feet, they did not wish to retire just yet, each one with his own reason to delay sleep. Charles Bingley’s reason was obvious. He was still feeling the excitement of the evening and wanted a little time to unwind. A final drink with his two friends seemed just the thing. Richard’s curiosity had gotten the better of him throughout the evening, and he now wanted to see if he could uncover any information from Darcy as to his quite blatant attentions towards a certain young lady.

  Darcy, on the other hand, knew that his thoughts and emotions were so engaged that there would be no sleep for him tonight.

  As the three gentlemen sat facing the fire, they lifted their glasses in a toast to Bingley and his forthcoming marriage.

  “I envy you, Bingley,” said a most reflective Darcy. “No one can doubt your happiness.”

  “I daresay, Darcy, you are the reason I now find myself in such blissful circumstances. But for your honesty with me that night I came to see you in London, I would never have had the courage to seek out Miss Bennet again.”

  Surprised to hear of his cousin’s involvement in Bingley’s love life, the colonel asked, “What did he say to you that had such an affect?”

  “It was my own foolishness that led me to believe my sister Caroline’s disparaging opinions of Miss Bennet. And she had me convinced that your cousin felt the same. Thankfully, I decided to confront Darcy and find out for myself what his objections were to Miss Bennet.”

  Knowing the strict code by which his cousin lived, he was sure Darcy had harboured many objections to his friend marrying someone with so little to recommend her.

  “Well, Darcy, what were your objections to Miss Bennet?”

  “I assure you, I had none,” said Darcy as he now became defensive. “And I told Bingley as much that night at my townhouse. However, that was not the material point.”

  As Richard raised an eyebrow, he asked, “The material point being?”

  Not quite understanding the chiding that was now volleying between the two men, Bingley felt the need to defend his friend and quickly answered in his behalf, “Why, that I should not allow my feelings to be swayed by the opinions of others, nor conform to the dictates of society when they do not serve my own best interest.”

  “That is all very good advice indeed, Darcy. However, you must admit it is somewhat perplexing since you have lived your entire life doing just that very thing,” said Richard.

  Several moments passed with not a sound but the crackling of the fire. Finally, Richard could stand the silence no longer and asked, “Can it be that you would wish to take some of your own advice? Or do you still believe you must put your family’s expectations before your own happiness?”

  Again Darcy volunteered no reply.

  “What do you mean?” asked Bingley. “Are you suggesting that Darcy has feelings for someone who might be regarded an unsuitable match?”

  Darcy gave his cousin a look of warning. He was not sure exactly what Richard surmised, but if he had any inkling as to his past relationship with Elizabeth, he silently prayed he would keep it to himself.

  “I think my cousin has found himself quite delighted with Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Really? Darcy, how extraordinary!” replied Bingley. “Why have you not mentioned it? Have you made your feelings known? Does she return your regard?”

  Darcy let out an exasperated sigh. “Miss Bennet and I have formed a friendship, nothing more.”

  Richard raised a doubtful eyebrow, and Bingley was not the least bit convinced either.

  Darcy put down his glass, still more than half full. Sometime over the last two weeks he had lost his taste for alcohol. He stood and was ready to leave, yet he felt he owed his cousin a response to his previous question.

  “I shall always strive to meet the expectations of those whom I consider family.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  The day that Mr. Charles Bingley led his radiant bride towards their awaiting carriage to begin their future life together was indeed the most beautiful day one could have wished for. Tears streamed down Elizabeth’s cheeks as she hugged her sister and new brother before their departure. She would miss Jane but was content knowing that she would live a most fulfilling life, married to a man who adored her and loving him in return.

  Elizabeth acknowledged that perhaps some of the tears she shed were for herself, realizing she would most likely never experience that kind of happiness. But that was the price she had been willing to pay to secure the future of her most beloved sister. Hopefully, Kitty and Mary would also someday find themselves so agreeably settled.

  Elizabeth stood next to her mother and sisters as they waved goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. Her family would now be returning to Meryton to prepare for their move to their new home at Netherfield Park. Mrs. Bennet made it a point to mention that she was most unhappy that all the renovations she had requested would not be completed for at least another month.

  As much as Elizabeth would have liked to comfort her mother at such a tragedy, she was a little relieved that her mother and sisters would not be occupying Netherfield Park over the next two weeks. She wanted Ellie all to herself, with no need for explanations. Despite everything she had heard on the balcony, she was determined not to let anything spoil her time alone with Ellie.

  Just then Colonel Fitzwilliam approached her. “I must be departing to Matlock. I hope we shall have the opportunity to meet again, Miss Bennet.”

  “I hope we shall, too, Colonel. I have enjoyed your company, sir.”

  Darcy watched as his cousin addressed Elizabeth and was relieved as he saw him bow and take his leave. He had been unable to find even the briefest moment alone with Elizabeth, and, except for the necessities of the day, they had hardly spoken. He was happy to grant her these two weeks alone with her daughter. He knew how she had restrained her activity with the child during her stay at Netherfield as not to arouse suspicions. He had offered her his friendship, and she had accepted. I
f friends were all they were destined to be, he would try to be content with that. He could never make up for the heartache she had endured because of him. Nothing could ever make up for that.

  ~*~

  Georgiana and Darcy arrived at their London townhouse before noon. He would have preferred riding Marengo but did not want Georgie travelling alone in the carriage all the way to London. When given a choice, he always preferred riding Marengo than being cooped up in a carriage.

  The day was turning out to be quite glorious. Spring was well under way. They had told few of their acquaintances of their plans as they anticipated attending only a handful of engagements that were deemed necessary to keep Georgiana in the social spectrum required of her as a soon to be “out” lady of society. Aside from those few occasions, Darcy was looking forward to a night at the theatre and perhaps a concert or two.

  However, even the best laid plans can go awry, and unfortunately, as soon as they arrived, they were greeted on the street by Lady Waverly. Though not a particularly close acquaintance, Darcy had been in her company on a few occasions while attending dinner parties a few seasons back. Once she and her late husband, Lord Waverly, had been the toast of London, but soon after his untimely death, she had been plagued by scandalous rumours. Her social circle had since been limited to those of lesser consequence and similar situation.

  “How very pleasant to see you again, Mr. Darcy,” said Lady Waverly as she extended her hand. “I had not heard you were in town.”

  Darcy took her hand and bowed. “We have just now arrived. We do not plan to stay very long as we are expected back at Pemberley soon.”

  “Perhaps you will honour me with your presence this evening. I am having a small gathering. I believe you know some of the other guests who will be attending. They would be most happy to see you.”

  “I do not think that will be possible, Lady Waverly. Georgiana and I had planned an early dinner and to spend a quiet evening at home after our long journey. I would be happy to accept your invitation another time.”

  As he was about to retreat towards the townhouse entrance, Georgiana’s voice interceded. “Fitzwilliam, you do not have to stay with me tonight. I’m sure you would have a much better time visiting with your friends. I will find a way to amuse myself, I am sure.”

  “How delightful; then it is settled. Shall we say eight o’clock, sir?” Lady Waverly asked.

  Seeing no gracious way out of the invitation, Darcy nodded. “It shall be my pleasure to attend.”

  ~*~

  As he entered the townhouse, he noted the furnishings were well worn. Either from neglect or lack of funds, upkeep had been kept to a minimum. He was announced and several heads turned towards him. Lady Waverly approached and took his arm as she led him into a large parlour. Though he could still see traces of her past beauty, the years since her husband’s death had not been kind. He felt some sympathy towards her as he remembered the woman she once was.

  Upon entering the parlour, Darcy recognized a few people, though he could not place them. Certainly they were not among those of his usual social province. A drink was placed into his hand before an objection could be uttered, and he was immediately surrounded by a flock of ladies, though that particular appellation may have been too generous a term.

  As he took the first sip of his drink, he realized that, except for a wedding toast to Bingley at the ball, he hadn’t partaken of alcohol the entire two weeks he had been at Netherfield. The taste of the whiskey seemed bitter on his palate.

  He was silently berating himself for acquiescing to Lady Waverly’s invitation; then his eyes fell upon a woman across the room. He could not see her face, but the similarity of her dark chestnut hair to Lizzy’s made him turn to look.

  As the discourse around him continued, a refill for his empty glass was immediately summoned and placed in his hand. He was now in the company of a Mr. Chauncey and a matronly woman by the name of Lady Spencer whose choice of gown left little to the imagination. At first Darcy thought she required some assistance as she seemed to be leaning heavily upon her companion. However, he soon realized that the woman required no assistance other than a lesson in decorum.

  He turned to find the dark haired woman walking in his direction. As she crossed the room, she stopped to talk with Lady Waverly, and then they both proceeded towards him.

  “I have been requested to perform an introduction, Mr. Darcy,” said Lady Waverly. “May I present Claire LaRoche? Mrs. LaRoche, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  He smiled to himself, for he assessed her far inferior in comparison to Lizzy, although she did hold a certain air of sophistication. She was older than he had first presumed, perhaps a few years older than himself, a fact she had tried to disguise by the application of powder and rouge. The bodice of her gown was lower than polite society would deem proper.

  He learned she was a widow, recently from France, now visiting family in England. She expressed her pleasure in meeting him and offered her ungloved hand. Lady Waverly made a silent departure from their company, leaving Darcy alone with the woman.

  They were seated next to each other at dinner. Darcy had already imbibed several glasses of whiskey and, during dinner, at least two different wines were served to complement each course. By dessert, the cognac had his head swimming.

  As he escorted Mrs. LaRoche from the dining salon, she swayed slightly, and he had to quickly grasp her arm to keep her steady on her feet. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to accompany me out onto the terrace, sir. I believe I could use some fresh air.”

  He said nothing but nodded slightly to affirm his concurrence. He would have demurred, but he assessed that his own need for fresh air was equal to hers. As they proceeded through the terrace doors towards a small rooftop garden, Darcy voiced his thoughts.

  “I believe there was more wine served than food. Even I find myself affected by so much alcohol.”

  After they had stood in silence for a few moments, Mrs. LaRoche finally spoke. “I have heard of your recent loss, Mr. Darcy. I imagine you have kept yourself secluded since your wife’s death.”

  This was the last subject on which Darcy wished to converse. He would not discuss such a topic with someone so wholly unconnected to himself.

  She turned towards him undaunted by his silence. “I also imagine you have been very lonely, sir. Perhaps that is something I could help remedy.”

  She did not seem as effected by the alcohol now as she had only moments before. As she drew nearer, she placed her hands atop his shoulders. “I can be very discreet, Mr. Darcy,” she whispered.

  He glanced down at her and, from his vantage point, could discern the fullness of her breasts. She leaned forward to ensure that he had the best view possible and moved her mouth just a hair’s breadth away from his. She lingered there for a moment, tempting him, hoping he would be the one to breach the final gap between them, but he did not. She raised herself on tiptoes and placed a tentative light kiss on his lips. She waited for some response, but he seemed unmoved.

  Darcy stood perfectly still as she again brought her lips to his. As he inhaled, he suddenly detected the fragrance of lavender, and his arms automatically reached for her. As the familiar aroma filled his senses, he closed his eyes, and his clouded mind pictured the woman of his desires . . . Lizzy. He pulled her tightly into his embrace as he deepened their kiss.

  When he finally pulled back and looked into her eyes, disappointment consumed him. Hers were not the eyes he sought. Darcy struggled to clear his head and, when she moved closer attempting another kiss, he immediately grasped her wrists, stopping her advances.

  “Come now, Mr. Darcy. What is it that prevents you from enjoying an innocent kiss?” she asked. “Or is it someone?”

  Despite his inebriated state, he had experienced enough seasons to know when a woman was offering more than an innocent kiss.

  “I’m afraid I have had too much to drink this evening, and its effects have impaired my better judgment. I must call for my ca
rriage and make my departure at once.”

  “A pity, sir,” she sighed. “Perhaps another time? If you find you have changed your mind, I will be staying at the Mayfair. I very much hope we shall meet again before you leave London, Mr. Darcy.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  The ostentatious carriage entered the gates of Netherfield. As it stopped before the main entrance, a liveried footman descended from his post at the rear of the carriage to open the coach’s door for his employer. The amount of gold braiding upon his uniform rivalled that of a brigadier general.

  Lady Catherine de Bourgh made her descent with all the pageantry of a queen and bustled her way past the servant who attended the door. She was draped in black, from her head to her toes, as befitting a woman in deep mourning of her only child.

  “I have come to see my nephew,” she announced to Mrs. Walker, the housekeeper.

  “I am sorry, Ma’am, but who is your nephew?”

  “Upon my word, madam, I am not a Ma’am, I am Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and my nephew is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. I have been informed he is staying here at present with my granddaughter.”

  The housekeeper immediately curtsied, hoping she would be forgiven her ignorance. “I am sorry, your ladyship, but Mr. Darcy is away to London with his sister at the moment.”

  “And my granddaughter?”

  “Oh, she is here, your ladyship,” said the woman, glad that she would not disappoint Mr. Darcy’s aunt a second time, “but out playing in one of the gardens at the moment.”

  “I see. I will wait for her in the study. Send her to me as soon as she returns.”

  “Yes, your ladyship.”

  ~*~

  Elizabeth awoke each morning impatient to see Ellie. She would dress quickly and immediately walk to Ellie’s room. Mrs. Hawkins already knew the routine and would have Ellie fed and ready to go.