Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

by Abigail Reynolds

  "Really? She said something before the house party that led me to believe you had expressed some interest in the idea," Elizabeth said.

  "Not at all! Though I did say something she may have misinterpreted. The ton is so talented in finding hidden meanings in everything they say that she may have read more into it than I meant. How typical of me! I am far too direct for the ton."

  "What was it you said, if I might ask?" Miss Holmes asked.

  "Something to the effect that I had heard a great deal about the beauties of Bentham Park, and I hoped to see it myself someday. And that is precisely what I meant, but she must have heard it as a hint, which would explain our sudden invitation here. I had hoped it might be for another reason, but I was mistaken." She sighed. "I do wish to be on good terms with her, but she does not make it easy."

  Elizabeth nodded. "No, she certainly does not - though Miss Elliot seems to like her well enough!" The conversation proved livelier than Elizabeth had expected, making her wonder whether Eleanor's presence served to subdue some of the other young women. She was grateful for the distraction, since it kept her from dwelling on the moment when the gentlemen would join the ladies. If she could be secure of having the opportunity to speak to Mr. Darcy, she would have been looking forward to it, but it seemed certain that Lord Charles would try to make the most of the opportunity to trap her into conversation. Darcy would most likely join them, if nothing else to prevent her from being alone with Lord Charles, but they could have no real conversation under those circumstances.

  To her surprise, when the gentlemen arrived, neither Lord Charles nor Darcy was with them. She had a moment of fear, recalling Lord Charles's none-too-veiled threats to Darcy in the orangerie, but that was foolish. Darcy would not fight him over something as ridiculous as an imagined attachment to Eleanor, and besides, duels took place at dawn, not after dinner.

  Mr. Paxton was the last to enter, his eyes flickering about the room, no doubt wondering if Eleanor might have returned. On failing to discover her, he came to sit by Elizabeth. "I hope you are better. Miss Bennet. I understand you felt somewhat faint earlier." While polite, his words lacked his usual warmth.

  "Quite well," she said, wondering if he was looking for information on Eleanor. Surely Darcy would have told him what had happened. "I hope all is well with the other gentlemen. You seem to have lost Mr. Darcy as well as Lord Charles."

  He shrugged. "Darcy is discussing some urgent business with Lord Bentham, though what urgent business can arise during a dinner party is beyond me. Is it always like this here - people disappearing and reappearing throughout dinner? I have never seen such behavior."

  "From Lady Bentham's expression, I expect she never imagined such a thing occurring in her domain either." Elizabeth lowered her voice. "Why, I think that if I went too close to her, I might shrivel up and blow away simply from the sour look on her face!"

  "No doubt Lady Eleanor will have to answer later for her disappearance," he said, his voice remote.

  Elizabeth felt a flare of anger. After all, he was the cause of Eleanor's disappearance! "Perhaps so, but then again, she is no stranger to being the subject of Lady Bentham's displeasure. That might trouble her less than the displeasure of those whose opinions she cares more for."

  He gave her a long look. "Personally, I would have said there is very little that could penetrate Lady Eleanor's self-possession."

  "You would be much mistaken in that case," she said with a sting in her voice. "I may not always agree with Lady Eleanor, but I do not doubt the depth of her feelings."

  He had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "I will bow to your greater knowledge of these matters."

  It was going to be an unpleasant interlude if they continued in this line of conversation, so Elizabeth said, "Tell me, how long have you been acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

  Paxton seized on the new topic with evident relief. "We met during my first month at Cambridge. Darcy was in his last year, so our paths would not have crossed much; but as it happened we shared a fencing master. Darcy was his prize pupil. On my first day there, one of the young nobles was making the usual sort of comments about me to his friends, how I handled my epee as if it were a hammer, and so on. Monsieur Franchon overheard this, and before anyone could move, his sword point was at the young man's throat. He said, 'In my salon, we judge a man only by his skill with a blade.' He called for Darcy and told him to put me through my paces so he could watch."

  "What happened?"

  Paxton smiled in remembrance. "It was clear to me in a few minutes that Darcy could have dismembered me any time he pleased, so I was sure I was failing. Naturally, that only made me fight harder and use every fancy move I knew. Apparently I acquitted myself creditably, for Monsieur Franchon took me aside for some private tutelage afterwards, then had Darcy drill me. I did not know at the time that Darcy could have dismembered any man there apart from Monsieur Franchon himself."

  "So you became friends?"

  "After Darcy had drubbed me thoroughly, yes. I thought the world of him and could not comprehend why he bothered himself with someone like me, but later he told me he liked my attitude, that I fought back harder when I knew I was losing. He had no patience for pretentious lordlings, as he called them."

  So Darcy liked people who fought back? Perhaps that explained why he had noticed her in the first place. Elizabeth considered that interesting piece of information. "I would have said he has no patience for anyone who is pretentious."

  Paxton laughed. "Oh, yes! The things I have heard him say over the years to people who he believes are above themselves!"

  Even though she was not facing the doorway, Elizabeth sensed when Darcy appeared in the doorway. Turning, she found his gaze on her, but the look in his eyes was one she had never seen before. He wore his haughtiest expression, just as he had at the Meryton assembly where she first had seen him. Eleanor was on his arm, looking up at him with a smile, no hint of redness in her eyes now.

  Lord Bentham, who had preceded them, clapped his hands for attention. "My dear friends, I have joyful news. Although it will not be officially announced for some weeks, I want you to be the first to share my happiness in the engagement of my daughter, Lady Eleanor Carlisle, to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

  The room suddenly darkened around Elizabeth. Surely she must have misheard, but as everyone began to gather around the couple to offer their congratulations, she knew the truth. The words stabbed like a knife through her, making her throat tighten as if she would never breathe freely again.

  Engaged to Eleanor? How could it be? His attentions to her, his kisses, the look in his eyes at the gardens - all had meant nothing, and now she was cast off completely, without even a word of warning or farewell.

  Paxton was saying something to her, but she could make no sense of it until his hand descended on her wrist, pressing hard. "Miss Bennet," he said deliberately. "Have I told you how very lovely you look tonight?" At her baffled stare, he whispered fiercely, "Do not give them the satisfaction. Look at me. Flirt with me. Show them you need nothing from them."

  It made no sense, but nothing made sense anymore, so she did as he said. Pasting a false smile on her face, she fluttered her lashes at him. "Why, Mr. Paxton! I did not expect such flattery from you."

  "It is not flattery, madam, to praise what is beautiful; and nothing becomes a woman more than her natural honesty and modesty. Your directness, your desire to follow your heart, make you more admirable than the greatest beauty of the ton. You. I feel certain, would never value status over affection, nor injure those who believed in you by putting riches before sentiment." Had she not known better, she might have thought him to be admiring her in earnest. It was only his pointed words, no matter how light and admiring his tone, that gave away his bitterness.

  She could not blame him. Paxton had far more right to be angry than she did. Darcy had never made her any promises, nothing but a proposal that she had rejected months ago. He was free to do whatever he liked, and it wa
s a good thing she had found out his true character before it was too late. The man she had thought him to be would never have betrayed a friend by offering for his beloved, but she supposed it was all in a piece with Darcy's disregard of her sister's feelings for Mr. Bingley. With a deliberately warm smile, she replied archly, "Such sweet nothings, sir! But it is an admirable sentiment. I have often thought that a gentleman's breeding could be told by how much his friends could trust him."

  "Precisely my thought, my dear Miss Bennet. I am delighted to find we are of one mind on this topic."

  "I hope we will always be in such excellent accord, sir."

  Lord Charles's drawl came from behind her. "Is this an accord to which a third may be admitted?" Elizabeth jumped. In the agony of betrayal, she had completely forgotten Lord Charles's existence. Just what she did not wish for - another deceitful man! "My lord, pray allow me to offer my congratulations on your sister's engagement," she said coolly. "I know it is something you hoped for."

  "Yes, I did hope for it. Darcy took some persuasion, but I fancy he is now quite pleased with the situation. It is a better match than he could otherwise have expected."

  "His mother was the daughter of an earl. I imagine he could have married whomever he wished." A bubble of resentment rose inside her.

  "The daughter of an impoverished earl, not the exceedingly well-dowered daughter of a Marquess. It is a coup for him, you may be certain."

  "Darcy has always been an excellent strategist," said Paxton with just a hint of a bite. "I think I shall give my good wishes to the happy couple and then be on my way. I imagine the celebration will go on for some time, and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. Lord Charles, would I ask too much to beg the loan of a horse? That way I can leave the carriage for Darcy."

  "Of course," Lord Charles said, now all affability. "Tell the stable master you spoke to me." Elizabeth privately thought Paxton had the correct idea. Perhaps she should retire early as well. That way she could pretend to be asleep if Eleanor sought her company later on. Tomorrow she could make some excuse why she must return home earlier than expected. "Pardon me, Lord Charles, but I must congratulate them as well." She took Paxton's arm almost before he could offer it. "Shall we?" she asked with a brilliant smile.

  He covered her hand with his free one. "Indeed, my dear, it will be my pleasure."

  Despite his relaxed air, she could feel the rock-hard tension in his arm. The few paces it took to reach the new couple felt like a desert that must be crossed, and then Paxton was shaking Darcy's hand with every evidence of pleasure.

  Elizabeth doubted she could manage as much, so she settled for a polite smile. "My congratulations, Mr. Darcy. You are a very fortunate man."

  Now that she was closer, she could see new lines around his mouth. His eyes were full of pain and seemed to plead with her. "I thank you, Miss Bennet. I hope we will have the opportunity to speak more of this soon."

  Could he possibly think she would still be available to him now? If he was sorry to lose her, he deserved every moment of pain it gave him. Without answering, she moved on to Eleanor, to whom she offered an embrace. "Eleanor, dearest! You have been so sly. not saying a word of this to me. I hope you will be very happy."

  Beside her. Paxton bowed correctly. "Indeed. Lady Eleanor, I wish you and Mr. Darcy all the happiness you deserve."

  Eleanor's cheeks flushed. It was not hard to hear the hidden message in the clichéd words. "Thank you, Mr. Paxton. I am glad to know I will carry your good wishes with me."

  Then they were past and into the freedom of the front hall. Paxton's face flickered in the light of the blazing Midsummer Eve bonfire outside the great windows. Although Darcy and Eleanor could not have seen them there, he bent over Elizabeth's hand in an attitude of intimacy. Elizabeth said softly, "You do have my best wishes. Mr. Paxton. You deserve better than this."

  "As do you," he said gravely. "I admire your courage. It is Darcy's loss."

  So he knew. She had wondered earlier, but now it was beyond doubt. Had Darcy said something to him, or was it just his own observation? There was no point in being coy. He deserved her honesty at least. "Thank you. I daresay we have both learnt something tonight about those who consider themselves our superiors."

  He nodded abruptly, as if he could not trust himself with words. "Good night, Miss Bennet."

  Her heart heavy, Elizabeth walked toward the grand staircase, only to find Lord Charles lounging against the balustrade. "A touching farewell, Miss Bennet. You should set your sights higher than Paxton though."

  Anger bubbled up inside her, anger at both Darcy and Lord Charles for toying with her. "I do not plan to set my sights on Mr. Paxton or any other man. Why should I? Shakespeare said it best: Men were deceivers ever. Now pray let me pass. I am very fatigued."

  He looked at her searchingly. "If I do, will you be willing to hear me out tomorrow?"

  All Elizabeth wanted was to reach her room before she started to cry. "If you wish," she said dully.

  He reached up and touched her cheek with two fingers, his lips curled in what she might have called a tender smile had it been on another man's face. "Then good night, my sweet. Until tomorrow."

  Elizabeth went up the stairs with dignity, although she wished she could pick up her skirts and run. Run away from Lord Charles, run away from Darcy, run away from Bentham Park and all the lies that filled it. Tears were already sliding down her cheeks when she reached her room. Locking the door behind her, she leaned back against it and slid down to sit on the floor, her knees bent up to her chin, uncaring that she sat in complete darkness. Covering her face with her hands, she let the silent sobs come.

  When had this happened? How had she allowed herself to come to care so much for him? At first she had wished nothing more than to be rid of him and his ill temper. When she had finally admitted there was more to him, her desire had been to part on cordial terms. Then, that day at the gardens, something had changed - and she had felt that somehow she knew him in a different way than she had in the past, and she had wanted to feel that connection to him again. But how had that turned into love without her even knowing it? How had it reached the point where the news of his engagement to another woman was a crushing blow, one from which she could not imagine recovering?

  But the man she thought she loved did not exist. She needed to remember that. The man she had believed him to be, the man who valued honesty and loyalty, was nothing but a mirage. That man would not have wanted to marry the woman his friend loved, no matter how large her dowry or extensive her connections. She had deceived herself about Darcy, just as she had deceived herself about Wickham and Lord Charles. Never again would she trust any judgment she made about men!

  Not only had she lost Darcy, but Eleanor as well. For all their disagreements. Eleanor was an old and valued friend, almost another sister, but this time Elizabeth would be leaving both Bentham Park and her friendship with Eleanor behind. She could not blame Eleanor for agreeing to marry Darcy; after all. Elizabeth had gone to great lengths to make certain her friend knew nothing of Darcy's role in her life. Eleanor could not know that her decision would hurt Elizabeth. But she could not imagine visiting Mrs. Eleanor Darcy, or seeing her with her husband. Eleanor would never visit her, of course. It had always been the other way around. She would never see Eleanor again, and she did not know if she could bear even to correspond with her and to hear about her life with Darcy. The very thought made her ill.

  Eleanor and Darcy, Darcy and Eleanor - the refrain pounded in her head. She needed to get into bed so she had an excuse not to see Eleanor tonight. Tomorrow she would be able to handle it better. The pain would be less. It would have to be. She could not imagine living with this agony. Stumbling to her feet, she felt her way to the bed. She did not even trouble herself to change into a nightdress, merely removed her slippers with shaking hands, then pulled the counterpane over her.

  Chapter 12

  There was no question in Darcy's mind that Paxton was avoid
ing him. Not that he could blame him, but how was he to explain himself to his friend when he could not even find him? First he had left Bentham the previous evening without even a word to Darcy, then when Darcy returned to Hillington, the butler insisted that Mr. Paxton had not yet returned. Darcy might have believed that had he not spotted an unfamiliar horse in the stable whose saddle bore the Bentham arms. Over the objections of the butler, Darcy had pounded on the door of Paxton's suite of rooms, saying loudly that he knew he was in there, but there had been no reply.

  In the morning, Darcy had arisen earlier than usual - not that he had slept much in the interim - to be certain he did not miss Paxton at breakfast. The platters of food were untouched when he arrived, but Paxton never appeared. Finally he tracked him down in one of the outbuildings where he was meeting with his steward.

  It took all of Darcy's restraint to make a polite request for a moment of Paxton's time. Paxton barely looked up from the account book he was studying before saying, "I have a great deal to do today. Perhaps later."

  "You cannot spare me even half an hour?"

  "Not at present. Perhaps this evening, if you are not otherwise engaged." Paxton said the last two words with evident scorn.

  "I hope you realize that things are not always what they seem. My advice is that when something unexpected happens, you should always investigate further, because there may be more to the story than you know." It was all Darcy dared to say in front of Paxton's steward and two gardeners. When Paxton neither looked at him nor responded, Darcy left without a word, fuming. He was expected at Bentham Park to go over the marriage settlements. It was his duty, so he might as well get it done with.

  In the morning, there was a pall of smoke in the air from the bonfires that had burned all night. Elizabeth had to force herself to follow her morning routine of stopping in Eleanor's rooms on her way to breakfast. Determined to disguise her low spirits, she entered with a smile on her face. The maid was still doing Eleanor's hair, and she seemed, if not the joyous bride-to-be, at least pleased to see Elizabeth. They talked of inconsequential matters until Eleanor dismissed her maid.