Mr Darcy's Mistress

by Francine Howarth

  “I sense duplicity afoot,” said she in turning to face Georgiana. “First a hat, now gloves to match boots. Whatever next; one wonders.”

  Georgiana bestowed a smile, and leapt from her seat. “I do believe I had best fetch Darcy’s interim gift, for it is hidden behind the settee.” Thus, in fetching forth a coaching whip, which clearly could not be wrapped, there was every reason to assume there had been much collusion conducted and enacted out of earshot. “As you can see, my brother had, and still has it in mind to engage your interest in driving.”

  “I must say I did enjoy taking the reins.”

  “Oh you will love it, Elizabeth. I promise it will become second nature to you in no time at all.”

  “I fear you are putting a great deal of trust in my abilities to control Matlock, when I had but one turn with the reins.”

  Lydia snorted. “It was easy on the driveway, Lizzy. You know it was, though I shall be honest and say I was glad Darcy was sitting beside me when Matlock threw his head and scared me a little. Thank goodness your husband snatched at the reins because Matlock seemed as though determined to go out through the gates at breakneck speed. Needless to say Darcy brought him to a halt and turned him about and then handed me the reins again. He is a lovely horse, though I would not want to drive him without Darcy to hand.”

  “Nor I,” declared she, whilst fondling the neatly bound whip as she placed it upright to rest against the arm of the settee. “Matlock is a powerful horse, and much less given to naughty asides when Darcy has the reins.” In turning to the gift from her mother and father, she scooped it up in the knowledge it was a book. “I wonder, I wonder if it’s—”

  “Well?” asked Lydia, as Georgiana distanced herself toward the window.

  “It is, it is, it is. It’s Walter Scott’s The Lady of the Lake,” replied she, whilst flicking through pages.

  Lydia pouted, as though a little put out by such a welcome gift. “You’ve never been that keen on poetry before.”

  “No, that is true, but I have longed to read this book.”

  “Why? What is so special about that book?”

  “Lady de Bourgh had a copy, and I read a little of it whilst at Rosings.” She paused in holding down a page. “Listen to this,” thus she read:

  “The stag at eve had drunk his fill,

  Where danced the moon on Monan's rill,

  And deep his midnight lair had made

  In lone Glenartney's hazel shade;

  But, when the sun his beacon red

  Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head,

  The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay

  Resounded up the rocky way,

  And faint, from farther distance borne,

  Were heard the clanging hoof and horn.”

  ~

  She once again levelled her eyes on Lydia. “Now does that not tell a story in itself?”

  “Well of course it does, but not near as much fun as a play or novel. Besides, I think you wanted that book because you think it is the right book to impress Darcy.”

  Quite taken aback by Lydia’s outburst words eluded her, though Georgiana stole the moment: “Oh here she comes, as promised.”

  Clearly some person outside the window had drawn Georgiana’s attention.

  “Do come and see, Elizabeth.”

  She hastened to Georgiana’s side to see for herself who was coming along the carriageway, Jane and Lydia likewise rushing from behind.

  There before them was the lovely sight of a curricle, and a woman bedecked in claret coloured attire and driving a dappled grey horse with air of accomplished perfection. It was all too obvious who had come to call at Pemberley.

  Disappointment befell her, for Belle was the epitome of elegance, as Lydia was quick to mark: “Lady Sanders no doubt. And my, oh my, what a handsome woman.”

  “Goodness, such elegance,” declared Jane, as she and Lydia leaned closer to better see her ladyship rein the horse in a gentle arc, and then to draw alongside the main entrance door.

  Georgiana eased away from the window and picked up her pelisse from a chair in passing and made to excuse herself. “I had better go down and receive her.”

  “Look, look,” said Lydia, “there’s a carriage coming too. “Lordy, who can that be?”

  Before Georgiana reached the door it was flung wide and Bingley appeared. “On with your coats ladies. Quick now. Darcy’s orders. The Lady won’t be staying over long.”

  Lydia rushed to the same chair where each pelisse had been laid in readiness for Darcy’s expected outing, none quite sure why or where they might be going, thus Lydia followed Georgiana in haste past Bingley.

  “Come Lizzy,” said Jane, as Bingley scooped up his wife’s pelisse and assisted in holding it open. “You are the mistress of Pemberley.”

  She had to do this. She had to finally be introduced to Belle. Thus, steeling self to present an utterly gracious Mrs. Darcy Fitzwilliam, she would speak only when spoken to, else she may speak her thoughts aloud.

  Whilst accepting Bingley’s help to don her pelisse in haste, she asked: “Is her ladyship not coming inside?”

  “Perhaps for a moment or two,” replied Bingley, a tentative smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “Right then, are we ready?”

  “Yes, yes,” replied Jane, slipping the last button through a loop.

  “Ladies first,” said he, ushering them forth.

  “Why is there a carriage, as well?” asked his wife, as they hurried along the upper corridor. “I thought —oh never mind what I thought. I must have misheard you and Darcy, earlier.”

  Bingley chuckled. “Darcy was a little confused on spying the carriage trundling behind her ladyship, true enough, though all will be revealed in due course no doubt.”

  As they descended the staircase much laughter could be heard drifting in through the open doorway, and it was plain to hear Lydia was already acquainted with her ladyship. “Then you must drive often, if this horse is a mark of your horsemanship.”

  “Indeed, for equines have been part of my life, more so than ever suitors could be, until of late,” said the lady visitor with defined clarity. Lady Sanders’ voice was alluring, gentle of tone and yet commanding. “Do you think Darcy approves of yon gentleman?”

  Georgiana spoke: “He approved a week past, and could not understand why you dithered so in saying yes to the earl.”

  “Dithered? No Georgie, I merely wished to keep James on tenterhooks.”

  “How cruel,” said Lydia.

  “No lady of worth says yes immediate of a man intimating prospect of marriage.”

  “I did, and eloped with my love.”

  “You are a good deal younger than I, and how is Wickham?”

  As Jane and she drew level with the doorway, for the present unnoticed, so Georgiana metaphorically stepped into the breach of Lydia’s stunned silence. “He’s a regular soldier away on special duties; hence we are blessed with Lydia for company.”

  “And better company for you, Georgie, than I. You must both be near of age, methinks.”

  “A year difference,” replied Georgiana.

  Her ladyship cast a glorious smile first at Georgiana, and then at Lydia. “Fear not, my dear, I know Wickham as well as anyone, and whilst he has been, to say the least, his own worst enemy for years, I sense he is much improved.”

  Whilst eavesdropping on the three women it was impossible to dismiss the alluring appeal of her ladyship. Oh how elegant her driving habit, its breast-line with military style piping and toggle fastenings, her hair the colour of ripe corn restrained within a riding net beneath a lady’s riding topper. All the while her ladyship, not to mention the officer earl standing near the open carriage door alongside Darcy, added to sense of dread as to who remained within the carriage.

  Lydia spoke then. “Do you know him better than Darcy?”

  “I would say I am as well acquainted with Wickham as Darcy, and it is true to say I have never accommodated the rascal with a helping
hand and instead sharp shrift and a bedchamber is all I have granted him, and still he writes me of his progress to date. From his last letter, it was plain to me he has reached a milestone in life that may be the absolute making of the man. Whether he will heed my gentle persuasion and dirty his hands in honest labour is another matter entirely. Nonetheless, he does understand the consequences of past misdemeanours, and whilst he cannot make amends of any great worth to injured parties, I am of mind he is committed to the child you carry.”

  “Is he, oh is he, truly? I have wondered at times, and have wished I could be other than I am at present.” Lydia suddenly spied them standing in the doorway. “Oh, and here are my sisters.”

  “Lady Sanders,” said Bingley, in stepping down to her level. “May I introduce you to Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy; and my wife?” He glanced back at both.

  Her ladyship spun sideways on her heels, her lovely face as haunting as her blue eyes in earnest study of Darcy’s wife.

  “How nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Sanders,” said she; whilst performing a graceful curtsey before stepping down to stand adjacent to the tall visiting guest.

  Her ladyship afforded a nodding bow, “Let us from the outset dispense with formality, as do Georgie and I.” The warmest of smiles bridged the divide. “You must be Elizabeth, and I am Belle.” Her eyes veered upward to Jane. “And Jane, of whom I’ve heard a great deal; from your most ardent admirer, I might add.”

  A cheery erubescent glow flooded Bingley’s cheeks. “The very light of my life.”

  “Of that I am aware,” batted her ladyship, a gentle stroke of Bingley’s arm a sign of close affection. “Now Elizabeth, what I wonder, will you make of Bonnie.” Her ladyship gestured toward the carriage standing to the fore of the curricle. “Shall we?”

  Georgiana and Lydia fell to instant titters and drifted farther along the steps, nearer to the earl’s carriage with its moniker emblazoned on the door. In turn they drew the earl and Darcy’s attention, both of whom ceased their discourse as though intrigued by the scene unfolding before them, as she, the mistress of Pemberley, followed her ladyship’s path.

  All but a few steps and she near collided with said lady when Belle stopped abreast of the dapple grey standing four-square with a liveried groom holding its bridle.

  “Well, is she not a handsome filly?”

  Quite taken aback by Belle’s question, doubt and confusion collided in a maelstrom of momentary disbelief. Reality then struck a blinding metaphorical blow to Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, who had indeed fallen foul to the dreadful affliction of overt jealousy combined with an over active imagination, and all since reading a letter never destined for her eyes.

  A fleeting glance in Darcy’s direction and absolute certainty befell her, for she had indeed made an utter fool of herself, which added weight to inner embarrassment. As though reading her mind and aware of her plight, Darcy stepped forward and said: “Happy Birthday, dear heart. I trust Bonnie will provide many moments of mutual sporting engagements for the future.”

  “For me; Bonnie is for me?”

  “Indeed she is; the curricle likewise.”

  “Why did you not say, when I thought— thought otherwise.”

  “Oh I know well enough what you thought.” He laughed, and drew close: “But spoil the surprise? Not I.”

  “No, no, why would you. And thank you, for she is the most wonderful of gifts.” Conscious of her ladyship stepping away to the carriage, there was every reason to whisper: “You were cruel, Darcy, to let me believe the worst of you.”

  “It amused and reassured me you had married for love, not merely for all that I possess. And believe me, you have Belle to thank for training Bonnie to harness. That horse is as trustworthy as they come, and I shall not fear of your driving out and about on the estate without an escort or groom in attendance.”

  Her ladyship drew near again, a small gift wrapped parcel with ribbon tie and bow. “Happy Birthday, Elizabeth, and please do excuse my not calling by at Pemberley as often as I should have. But you see, in like to Darcy, I was half afraid the belated wedding gift as a surprise would be lost through one slip of a tongue.”

  “As did I,” said Georgiana, bestowing a smile.

  Accepting her ladyship’s ribbon wrapped gift, she expressed innermost feelings. “I am lost for words, and thank you for the gift, and thank you for all the love and skill you have given to Bonnie’s training. She is such a pretty horse, and I shall endeavour to master the art of driving.”

  “Give it time, and a little patience, and before you know it, you’ll be chasing Darcy’s tail around the district.” Her ladyship averted her attention back to Bonnie, and stroked her neck with sense of familiarity. “I confess you won my heart the day you were born, but alas you were always destined for Pemberley. I shall miss you, my lovely, but there it is, and to new pastures we both must now belong.”

  Darcy reached up and scratched Bonnie’s brow. “You stole my heart too, and then gave us a dreadful time a short while back, and so damnably close to death I quite thought it would be the end after five years of watching you mature to full stature.”

  “Indeed she did,” said her ladyship, in hefting a pat to Bonnie’s shoulder. “But you came through it my beauty on vinegar and ale drenches. So no more raiding of barley stores for you, young madam.”

  If only the mistress of Pemberley had never imagined Belle as a wicked seductress and that of Darcy’s mistress, her conscience would be clear and less guilt about her. Thus she almost choked on her own words: “You are most welcome to pay visit at any time.”

  “Do not fear, Elizabeth, I shall plague you as often as I can. Oh, and on Saturday eve; Robert, James, and I will be here for supper.” Her ladyship then cast a fleeting glance to where the earl and Georgiana were engaged in discourse, Lydia too. But perhaps, sensing all eyes in his direction the rather distinguished looking earl cast a smile to the gathered onlookers, his eyes dancing from one face to the next.

  “Beg pardon, but Georgiana enquired after my son,” said he, stepping forward, “and far be it from me to spoil the young lady’s day.”

  Darcy chuckled. “Come now, and meet my wife.”

  She curtseyed, the earl bowed. “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  “I hear we are to have the pleasure of your company of Saturday next,” said she, in assessing blue-grey eyes, aquiline nose, and small dimple to square jaw. A handsome man all told, markedly a head taller than Darcy, thus Belle’s height and Georgiana’s, diminished alongside the earl.

  “As I understand it, ma’am; that is correct.”

  Darcy again addressed the earl. “Bingley is of recent acquaintance, so may I present his wife.”

  Jane curtseyed. “Your lordship,” said she, as always a rosy flush to her cheeks.

  “Ah, the fairest one of all,” said the earl, a dashing bow. “Sisters three, and three dances I shall look forward to.”

  “You wicked charmer,” said Belle, in touching his sleeve, “and we must away, for there is much packing to be undertaken at Farthingly.”

  “Indeed, though I have a most important item in my pocket, and shall have—”

  “Not if you breathe a word at this juncture.”

  A broadening smile cracked his visage. “Ah, another secret yet to be revealed, is it?”

  “Indeed.”

  The earl caved to his love’s demand for silence, a wicked sparkle dancing in his eyes, as Belle said: “We really must go, and we shall see you all again come Saturday. Have a wonderful day Elizabeth.”

  With that said, the earl bowed to all and followed Belle’s path to the waiting carriage. All but a few moments and they were waved on their way, just as the post boy arrived on horseback.

  Porter immediately stepped down to pay the postal charges, whilst the groom drove Bonnie onward to the stable mews and everyone else retreated to the warmth of the house.

  “Well my love,” said Darcy, as they ascended the stairway behind the others, “does Bonnie tr
uly meet with your approval?”

  “Oh yes, and as Belle said: she is a beauty. And before you ask, yes I will learn to drive, and you and I will—”

  “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but there’s a letter marked urgent for your attention. The post boy said it was handed to him en route, and paid for prior to delivery.”

  Darcy paused; the letter handed over for his immediate attention he perused the handwriting then turned slightly. “Join the others, Elizabeth, I’ll follow you up,” said he, thus relieving Porter of several more letters.

  She dashed onward out of politesse though heard Darcy curse under his breath. At the head of the staircase she glanced down at him easing the seal apart. Clearly he knew the sender, and why she knew not, but her stomach lurched for his bearing implied he was not best pleased. Fearing he would sense her presence she turned and fled to the drawing room.

  Sixteen

  ~

  Everyone had huddled close to the fire in the hearth, Bingley the first to address her: “Well Lizzy, what did you think of Darcy’s surprise?”

  “Stunned serves me well, I think.”

  Bingley laughed. “A fine horse, if I say so myself. Ha, what I would give to have her doesn’t bear thinking on.”

  “You are very fortunate, Lizzy,” said Jane. “Are you aware Belle reared and trained Bonnie to saddle and to harness, as she has with many of her horses?”

  “Farthingley horses grace various royal mews, those trained by her father, and one of hers,” said Bingley.

  “Goodness, a woman training horses is acceptable in the upper echelons?”

  “Apparently so, for the Regent has shown interest in one of Belle’s brood mares.” Bingley quickly moved aside whilst she set to in discarding her pelisse. “Do come and get warm.”

  “Lydia stepped back and settled to a chair. “I think she’s wonderful.”

  “Belle or Bonnie?” asked Georgiana.”

  “Both, but Belle is so very nice. Not at all in the vein of Lady de Bourgh, whom Lizzy came to despise, and—” Lydia had once again fallen to foot in mouth, and dutifully attempted to apologise. “Oh, I am so sorry. I keep forgetting the lady is your aunt.”