Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections
By
Abigail Reynolds
Text copyright © 2013 by Abigail Reynolds
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book,
or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever.
Family Tree
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Excerpt from Mr. Darcy's Refuge
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter l
As the carriage made its way down the elm-lined lane. Elizabeth removed a spot of lint from her white kidskin gloves. The widow who had chaperoned her on the stagecoach had worn a dark brown wool cloak with a tendency to shed. By the time Elizabeth had finally left the coach, she had been dotted with bits of brown fluff. Not wishing to arrive looking like a refugee from a kennel, she had spent the last half hour painstakingly picking off lint. It was an improvement, but no matter how careful she was, she would still look like a poor relation when she reached Bentham Park. Not that she ranked as high as a poor relation; she was only a poor connection of one of Lord Bentham's poor relations.
It hardly mattered, though. Whatever faults her appearance or breeding might present, she would once more be at Bentham Park. For years it had been like home to her but she had thought she would never see it again. What did it matter if her dress showed a little lint? Lord and Lady Bentham might not be in residence, and even if they were, she would likely see them only at dinner. Lord Bentham tended to be off in his own world and never paid much attention to her, and the new Lady Bentham had standards Elizabeth could not possibly meet, so there was no point in fretting over them. She was only coming to Bentham Park at Eleanor's request, and she would not care if Elizabeth appeared in rags. A lack of interest in the latest fashions was one of the traits they shared.
Elizabeth's spirits lifted as the lane opened onto the familiar imposing vista of Bentham Park. The butler at the door was less imposing but more supercilious, making clear with one sniff his opinion of young women who travelled accompanied by no more than a maidservant. "I will see if Lady Eleanor is at home," he intoned.
Given that Elizabeth had just arrived in Eleanor's carriage which Eleanor had sent to meet the stagecoach less than an hour before, it seemed unlikely that Eleanor would not be at home, but Elizabeth managed to suppress the urge to point this out to the butler. She would laugh about it later with her friend. Instead, she ran her hand down one of the marble columns supporting the magnificent dome over the Great Hall. It was good to be back.
In a few minutes, the butler, with a pained look engraved on his gaunt features, led her to the sitting room where Eleanor sat in an exquisitely ladylike pose, each blonde curl precisely in place, and greeted her with the languor so fashionable among the ton — a manner quite different from the desperate letter she had sent only a few days earlier. Elizabeth had expected no less, since Lady Bentham's hawk-like eyes were upon her stepdaughter.
After a few pleasantries, Eleanor suggested that Elizabeth might wish to rest after her journey. Setting a sedate pace, she led Elizabeth upstairs to a small but elegantly furnished bedroom, making idle pleasant conversation all the way.
As soon as she closed the door behind her, Eleanor's smile faded. "Thank you for coming, Lizzy! I have been desperate for your good sense and friendship."
"So I gathered from your letter." Elizabeth took Eleanor's hands in her own. "I came as quickly as I could, but not as soon as I would have liked. Your letter worried me so! It is not like you to send out a call for help! What has happened?"
"So much - I hardly know where to begin! It is such a muddle. Papa has taken it into his head that it is time for me to marry, and I simply cannot bear it! He has opened discussions with the gentleman he has chosen for me." Eleanor shuddered. "Papa plans to announce the engagement in September, and we are to marry at the beginning of the Season."
Elizabeth was well aware of her friend's propensity for dramatics, but her voice held a tinge of desperation this time. "Is he so very bad?
Eleanor twisted her fingers in the embroidered rose silk of her skirt. "No," she half-whispered. "It could be much worse. He is not ill-tempered and has no disgusting habits, but he is such a dandy! If he cares about anything beyond the latest fashion in waistcoats or the perfection of the knot in his cravat, I cannot ascertain it, and he assumes that everyone else is as fascinated by his wardrobe as he is. At our last meeting, he unbent so far as to tell me that he had some ideas as to which milliner I should use for my wedding clothes, since it is crucial to his reputation that I meet the same standards of sartorial elegance that he himself does. And, of course, he is one of my stepmother's friends."
"Oh, I am so sorry. Is your father absolutely set on it?"
"Irrevocably. But I have not told you the worst part yet."
"There is more?"
Eleanor nodded miserably. "I am in love with another man."
A knock at the door announced the arrival of tea and Eleanor raised a warning finger to her lips. The two young ladies sat in perfect silence until the tea tray was arranged and the maid had departed.
"Oh, dearest Eleanor! Is he unsuitable?"
She shook her head. "Not to me, but to my father he is - utterly unsuitable, merely because his father was in trade. It does not matter that Geoffrey is a perfect gentleman, as well educated as my father or any of my brothers, and master of a fine estate. He is hopelessly tainted in my father's eyes." Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut to force back tears.
Elizabeth stroked her friend's arm. "How did you meet him? Was it in London?"
"No. I first met him when I was six, though I did not see him again until last summer. He is one of our nearest neighbors, and he is the only man in the world who does not expect me to be someone I am not. I cannot bear losing him, Lizzy."
"Does he know of your feelings?"
"He knows everything. Sometimes we manage to steal a few minutes together, but it is not often. My stepmother is too attentive a chaperone, and my parents do not approve of the connection, even as a friend. It is only in the last two years, since Geoffrey's father died, that they have acknowledged his existence at all, and even now they will not invite him to the house. He has a gentleman's education and appears no different from any of our friends, but his father was a weaver before making a fortune in the mills." Her expression fell a little. "I liked his father, though, the one time I met him."
Elizabeth frowned. "If your parents did not acknowledge him, how did you come to know him or his son?"
Eleanor stood and went to the window, her fingers tracing the frame as she looked out. "Without permission, of course." Her voice was colorless. "It was during the summers, back when I ran wild, you see. Before my father remarried... even before I met you."
"That makes more sense." Elizabeth wondered if Eleanor realized how much her own life still resembled what Eleanor called "running wild," which had included everything from walking alone in the countryside to squabbling with her brothers. All that had ended for Eleanor five years ago when her stepmother, a noted beauty only eight years Eleanor's senior, decided it was time to begin the process of transforming Eleanor
into a young lady. Eleanor's high spirits dimmed over the years under her stepmother's strict tutelage, which had been so successful that sometimes Elizabeth had wondered if the lively girl she had played with was gone forever, leaving only the perfect debutante. Elizabeth had never warmed to the new Lady Bentham, but the worst was watching the change in her friend. It was good to see the old Eleanor again, even if it was because she was suffering.
"I know, I was fortunate to have any time when I could fly free, but I hate it so much being a proper young lady, that is, and a credit to the family." Eleanor's eyes filled with tears. "At the time. I did not realize how fortunate I was. That summer I was too busy pitying myself because my brothers refused to play with a mere girl. They thought themselves too good for Geoffrey as well, so he and I became friends, even though he was older than I was. He taught me to catch tadpoles." She moved restlessly around the small room as if it were too small for her.
"How did you come to meet him again?"
"At a ball in London, if you can believe that. He has friends enough in the ton that he can attend some of the lesser occasions. I did not recognize him at first, not until I passed him in a dance and he said that he hoped I had no tadpoles in my reticule. And then I knew him, but I also knew something had changed between us. The way he looked at me - it made me hot and cold at the same time. I danced the next set with him, and then the dinner dance. He made me laugh, and I spoke more to him than I had to any gentleman all Season. It was heaven. I was so sorry to leave him, and as soon as I entered my carriage after the ball, my stepmother began to scold me for my hoydenish behavior. Proper young ladies do not laugh at balls; they must feign ennui. Nor do they talk to men beyond what words are necessary to entice their interest, always assuming the man in question is an appropriate prospect." She paused, then collapsed on the bed as if the weight of her elegant dress were too much for her. "That was almost a year ago."
"Are you certain that your father would not permit a marriage between you?"
"Certain beyond a doubt. At my urging, my brother Charles raised the question to him, saying that financially it would be a good match. My father said he would rather see me dead than married to one of the Paxtons."
Elizabeth tried to imagine how that might feel, but it was too foreign to her own experience. It was impossible to conceive of anything she might do that would lead her father to prefer her to die, but she did not doubt Eleanor's story. Lord Bentham was nothing like her father.
"Geoffrey wanted to ask his permission anyway, arguing that the worst he could do would be to refuse, but he is wrong. That is not the worst. If my parents had any inkling of my interest in Geoffrey, they would make it impossible for me to see him again. We are together little enough as it is, but to be denied even that - it would be intolerable. I would run mad."
Feeling helpless in the face of her friend's misery, Elizabeth said, "I am so sorry. I wish there were something I could do to help."
Eleanor pushed herself up on her elbows, her eyes now alight. "But there is! That is why I asked you to come."
That look of Eleanor's usually meant trouble. What could anyone possibly do to help? Surely she would not expect Elizabeth to serve as a go-between, or, worse, to cover up an elopement! With some trepidation, she said, "I hope you are not thinking of running off with him."
Her friend's shoulders slumped. "I wish I could. Geoffrey is willing, but I cannot. It would mean leaving everything I know and love. My family would disown me. No, I have given up any possibility of marrying Geoffrey. All I can hope for now is the chance to spend a little time with him before it is too late."
"I understand your desire to be with him, but will that not make it all the more bitter when you must part?"
"You would not have asked that question if you had ever been in love. Yes, seeing him is worth any pain."
So she must be desiring help in setting up an assignation. Elizabeth felt the pit of her stomach clench. "And if you are caught with him?"
Eleanor beamed. "It will not matter if you are with me as my chaperone."
"Could not your maid do as much?"
"She would immediately report the meeting to my stepmother, who would prevent it from ever occurring again. But it is different with you. As long as I do nothing improper, you would not need to tell anyone, would you?"
Uneasy, Elizabeth said, "If your parents discover it, they would be furious, and with good reason."
"I have a plan for that as well. If we are discovered, I will tell them that Geoffrey is interested in you, and that I am encouraging it. He has invited a friend as well, an earl's grandson of impeccable reputation, and nothing could be more natural than for us to make a foursome."
Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. "A counterfeit courtship between me and your Geoffrey?"
"Yes. It would delight my stepmother, since they would no longer need to exclude him if he married a gentleman's daughter. She has wished for such a match for him. She could not condone having him marry someone of our class, since that would be getting above himself. Little does she know! You would be the perfect solution, a gentleman's daughter, but poor enough that you could overlook the source of his fortune; and your manners are good, so you would be an acceptable neighbor."
"Whereas an earl's grandson would be suitable company for you, I suppose!"
"Well, perhaps not to marry, but for social interactions, yes." Seeing the look on her friend's face, Eleanor added hurriedly, "I hope you are not offended, Elizabeth. I did not mean to imply that you are desperate for a husband or that there is anything wrong with your family. Just that it is different for you."
Elizabeth laughed. "I am not offended. I have heard far worse about my family, and I know we are not your equals in society. As for a husband, I have never been less desperate for one in my life. Sometimes I feel as if I do nothing but refuse proposals of marriage!"
"Someone made you an offer, and you did not tell me?" demanded Eleanor.
"Dearest Eleanor. I will happily share anything else with you but I will not humiliate the gentlemen in question by telling you or anyone else their names. Suffice to say that two eligible gentlemen of property offered for me in recent months. One was a fool and the other ill-tempered and resentful, and I never gave a moment's consideration to accepting either of them."
"Oh, but I wish to hear all the details! You know I shall tease until you tell me."
"I am not even to be allowed the opportunity to wash my face and change out of my dusty clothing?" Elizabeth asked with a smile.
"Oh, of course you may, you silly girl!" Laughing, Eleanor reached for the bell.
"I do not need a maid if you are here to unbutton my dress," Elizabeth objected.
Eleanor waggled a finger at her. "You are at Bentham Park now," she intoned. "If Lady Bentham were to hear that you were not attended by a maid, she would scold us both until we wept."
"You might weep, my dear. I would laugh."
It was not until later that Elizabeth realized she had never actually stated her objections to Eleanor's plans.
Paxton was usually a temperate fellow, which is why Darcy watched with concern as he poured his third glass of port in half an hour. He debated asking straight out what was troubling him, but decided against it. A few months before he would have presumed on their old friendship to do so, but that was before Elizabeth Bennet had the audacity to accuse him of behaving in an ungentlemanly manner. He would never forgive her for that, but it had made him more cautious, even with friends as close as Paxton. Instead, he said, "This port is potent stuff."
His friend raised his glass and examined it. "Potent stuff for an impotent fool." He swirled the port as if it were brandy. "Darcy, have you ever been in love?"
Could he never escape from it? Love was the last subject he wished to discuss.
"Never mind." said Paxton. "Forget that I asked. It is none of my business." He took a long swallow of port.
Abruptly, Darcy said, "Yes. I have been in love. It did n
ot end well."
That made Paxton look up in surprise. "I always thought that sort of thing would come easily to you. You have it all - birth, fortune, youth."
"As do you." Darcy finished his glass and poured another. Perhaps Paxton had the right idea. "Fortune and youth, yes. Not birth."
"That has never mattered to you before."
"I never cared what the gentlemen's sons thought of me. I thought little enough of them - present company excepted - that their opinions did not matter to me. Until now."
"A lady of quality, then? And she will not have you?" Darcy only wished he had as good a reason to explain Elizabeth's disdain of him.
"She would have me happily. Her father will not. I am not good enough for the daughter of a marquess."
If her father was a marquess, it was hardly surprising. Many fathers in the nobility would not allow their daughters to marry outside their ranks, although there were also those whose financial straits were dire enough that they would overlook the source of a man's fortune. Still, it must sting. "Is there no hope of changing his mind, then?"
"None. He has already picked out her future husband, and plans to announce the betrothal soon." Paxton set down his glass with a sigh. "And that will be the end of it. Most likely I will never see her again."
"I am sorry to hear it. If there is anything I can do to assist you, if it might help for me to speak to her father on your behalf, you need only ask." How foolish it sounded! Of course there was nothing he could do. He could not even manage to make a proposal that did not insult the woman he loved.
"You have always been kind in offering to use your connections on my behalf, and my pride has always led me to refuse. In this case, I have lost my pride, and in fact I invited you here to ask for your assistance."
Darcy had never seen his friend in such despair. "I would be happy to do whatever I can."
"I need an entree into Bentham Park. You have connections to Lord Bentham, do you not?"
"Yes. It is his daughter, then?" That was indeed hopeless. Perhaps more port was in order.
Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 1
