by Leenie Brown
Richard guffawed. “That is the fatal shot, Mother dear. Darcy does not care if a lady can dance well, for he intends not to dance more than absolutely required. ”
His mother turned to him with a smile. “But you adore dancing, and she is generously dowered.”
Darcy chuckled at the widening of Richard’s eyes and slackening of his mouth.
“I do not adore dancing,” he said stiffly. “I just tolerate it better than Darcy, and so it appears I adore it.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Genevieve,” said Lady Margaret, “it is rare to find a gentleman who is not a rake who adores dancing! Typically, a gentleman finds it a chore until he finds his hand in the hand of a particular someone and his eyes looking into the eyes of the lady across from him, a lady who for some reason holds his attention and stirs his desire as no other lady ever has.” She shrugged. “It is the way it works, and you know it as well as I do.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” Lady Matlock protested. “Henry adores dancing.”
“He does not,” protested Richard. “Father would much rather sit in the card room.”
“But when we were courting, and even before, he was always dancing and so gracefully.” Lady Matlock sat on the edge of her chair and held her cup and saucer just below mouth level in front of her.
“Henry was not well-behaved,” Lady Margaret countered. “Dancing was an allowable way for him to get his hands on the ladies and charm them into meeting him in less public locations.”
Lady Matlock did not refute the statement. After all, it was a meeting in a not so public location that had led to her claiming the title of Lady Matlock.
“Darcy’s father was all that was proper, and he enjoyed dancing,” Lady Matlock said after taking a few quiet sips of her tea.
“Only with my mother,” said Darcy.
Lady Matlock’s brows drew together and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Sir Lewis. –”
“Couldn’t keep time with a clock,” Lady Margaret interrupted. “He may have loved dancing, but the toes of any lady he danced with disliked it immensely. You cannot count him. He also loved Catherine.” The right corner of her lips turned up in a half smile as she took a sip of her tea. As everyone in the family knew, Lady Catherine and Lady Margaret disagreed with each other far more often than they ever agreed. It was likely due to each lady possessing a will of iron, but if asked, neither would ever admit to such. Each was far more likely to cite the interminable stubbornness of the other without so much as hinting that she was just as obstinate.
Possessing obstinacy rather than dancing, Darcy thought, would serve any lady better who dared to join the Fitzwilliam family. A wilting wallflower would likely spend too many days in tears and fits as she attempted to please a rather difficult to please lot of relations such as he possessed. Elizabeth would do well. The thought brought another smile to his lips.
“You are looking rather pleased this afternoon,” Lady Matlock said rather tersely to Darcy. She was never one to feel her displeasure at being proven wrong graciously.
“I do apologize. I shall attempt to be sullen.” Darcy tried to keep his expression blank, but he could not help a small smirk.
Lady Matlock gasped while both Lady Margaret and Richard dissolved into laughter. Georgiana lowered her head and attended most carefully to her stitching, though her shoulders shook, giving away the fact that she too had been shocked into silent giggles.
“Of all the insolent things to say! And from you! I should not expect it from you!”
No one could miss the irritation in Lady Matlock’s tone or features.
“I do apologize,” Darcy said once again, feeling just the tiniest twinge of guilt. However, he could not feel so remorseful as he likely should. He had felt rather light and not entirely himself since yesterday afternoon in that sitting room when Elizabeth had uttered those three words — perhaps you might.
Lady Matlock huffed. “It is all well and good that you do not wish to dance since you are unfit to be seen in company. How did you get that black eye?”
“Likely the same way he got the split lip,” muttered Richard, earning him a glare from his mother. “Fisticuffs.”
“It was just a bit of a joust with a friend,” Darcy explained. Bingley was, thankfully, still Darcy’s friend. He had vented his displeasure with Darcy’s part in separating him from Miss Bennet, and then the two had retired to Darcy House to enjoy a couple of pints of fine ale while discussing their Bennet ladies.
“Why would a friend…” Lady Matlock’s words died on her lips, and her eyes grew wide. “It was that tradesman’s son.”
“Indeed it was.” Darcy rose and placed his empty cup on the tea table.
“That sweet boy?” asked Lady Margaret. It was how she often referred to Bingley. Her terms of endearment for Bingley’s sisters were not so pleasant. She did not like Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst, but Bingley she adored. “Did you steal his angel?”
Darcy chuckled. “Not exactly but something along those lines.”
Lady Margaret’s eyes lit with curiosity. “Do tell,” she said, patting on the seat of the blue tufted chair next to her. “And do not leave out any details.”
Darcy took the seat indicated and, leaning close to his great aunt, whispered, “I thought the lady was indifferent to him and recommended he not return to his estate and call on her. However, it appears I was wrong, and he was not pleased to forgive me without sufficient repayment.” He shrugged. “I do not blame him. I would likely do far worse to myself if I were in his position.”
Lady Margaret’s eyes twinkled. “Genevieve was not wrong in thinking you greatly altered today. I say, you seem as little concerned about your appearance as Richard is wont to be.” She chuckled. “There must be a reason,” she prodded. “What is her name?” she whispered, casting a wary glance at her daughter-in-law. “I promise I will not say a thing.”
Darcy cocked a brow in disbelief. Lady Margaret was incapable of keeping such a promise.
Lady Margaret scowled. “But there is a lady?”
Darcy shrugged.
His great-aunt’s eyes narrowed, and she turned to Georgiana. “There is a lady who is the cause of your brother’s change in demeanor, is there not?” she asked, not bothering in her annoyed state to keep her voice lowered.
Georgiana bit her lip and cast an apologetic look in Darcy’s direction, causing him to groan silently. “He has not told me,” she replied, “but I believe there is.”
Lady Matlock gasped. It was a delighted sound that made Darcy cringe.
“And does she like to dance?” Lady Matlock asked.
“Oh, he has never danced with her.” Georgiana snapped her mouth closed.
“I thought we were not supposed to speak of her to Georgie,” Richard said with a grin.
Darcy groaned aloud this time. There was little he would likely be able to conceal now that his aunt and grandmother were aware that both Georgiana and Richard knew about some lady who had caught Darcy’s eye. However, he would do his best to keep as much of his intentions secret as he could for as long as he could.
“I did not speak to Georgiana about her,” Darcy held Richard’s gaze until he got a nod of understanding that Richard was still not to say a thing. Then turning to Georgiana, he said with a smile, “I did not dance with her at the assembly, but I did at Bingley’s ball.”
“Indeed?” Richard asked in surprise.
Darcy nodded.
“Might I ask one question?”
Again Darcy nodded in response to Richard’s question. “You may if you feel you cannot wait until we are alone.” From the flick of Richard’s brows, there would be no deferring his curiosity until they were in private.
“If you did not speak to Georgiana about her,” Richard asked, “then how does Georgiana know about her?”
“Oh, I met her,” said Georgiana. “She is lovely.” She turned with some excitement toward Lady Margaret. “We stopped at her uncle’s shop. It is where we got t
his lovely lace.” She picked up the piece of lace that lay on top of her grandmother’s work basket.
“A tradesman’s daughter?” Lady Matlock cried. “Oh, no, no, no. This cannot be.”
“Her father is a gentleman,” replied Georgiana. “Her uncle is a tradesman.”
“A tie to trade is a tie to trade.” Lady Matlock’s brows rose as did her chin.
“It is not as if this family has not endured such denigration before,” Lady Margaret’s tone was sardonic. “Shall we start casting out everyone from the family who has such a connection?” She gave her daughter-in-law a pointed glare. “I do not think you are in a position to be so over particular, my dear.”
Lady Matlock’s father had been a distant cousin involved in manufacturing before he ascended to a title he had never expected to have, but illness, war, lack of issue of the right gender, and the like had designed that he should indeed be the person to keep the title from falling into extinction. His daughter had benefited greatly both from this change in status and the substantial dowry his years in trade had helped him amass. She had done her best to distance herself from anything that hinted at her former standing as a tradesman’s daughter. However, Lady Margaret detested such arrogance, especially from one she considered an upstart who had trapped her son into marriage.
“She is very lovely,” Georgiana repeated, looking from her grandmother to her aunt and finally to her brother with a look of concern.
Lady Margaret patted her hand reassuringly. “I would not expect your brother to become enamoured with anyone who was not delightful.” She winked at Darcy. “Now, tell me, my dear, what is her name?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy supplied. “I would thank you to not place my sister in the awkward position of speaking on my behalf.”
Lady Margaret settled back in her chair and held her cup out to Richard, indicating she would like more tea. “I am listening.”
Darcy drew a breath and released it slowly before beginning to share the news he knew his grandmother wished to hear. “Her father’s estate is Longbourn in Hertfordshire. It is a modest estate, nothing grand.”
“Hertfordshire?” Lady Margaret interrupted. “Is that not where Mr. Bingley was leasing an estate?”
Darcy nodded. “Yes, Netherfield is not but three miles from Longbourn.”
Lady Margaret accepted her cup of tea from Richard. “Is that all you know of her?” she asked. Her tone was grave, but he could tell she was hiding a smile behind her cup by the way her eyes sparkled.
“No,” Darcy said with a shake of his head. Lady Margaret could be as teasingly bothersome as Richard, and he loved her for it. She had always been the one he went to for advice regarding Georgiana after he had been left her guardian. He knew he would get sage advice that was logical. The other women in his family were, in his opinion, too flighty and given to airs and self-aggrandizement.
“Her eyes sparkle just as yours are now,” he said softly. “I am certain you would like her.”
“I shall like whomever you select as long as it is not that grasping harpy.”
Darcy chuckled. “There is little danger of my ever choosing Miss Bingley.”
“You are a man of sense,” his grandmother commended him. “What is this Miss Elizabeth’s fortune?”
“Minimal,” Darcy replied, “but mine is substantial.”
“And her family?”
Darcy grimaced. He did not wish to speak critically, nor did he wish to speak anything less than the truth. “She has four sisters. No brothers. The estate is entailed to a cousin.”
“Are they a sensible sort of people?”
“Not all,” he answered quietly. “But then what family does not contain some folly and foolishness?”
Lady Margaret’s eyes grew wide. “You will not delineate their shortcomings? That is rather unlike you.”
Darcy felt his cheeks grow warm. Normally, he would not hesitate to plainly state the deficiencies he saw in people. He shook his head. “I will not.” He glanced at Richard. “It has been brought to my attention that doing so is not very gentlemanly and demonstrates a degree of arrogance.”
His grandmother’s lips twitched. “Yes, I do believe I have mentioned that on occasion. It is good you have finally found it to your liking to listen. You have always been one to be far too assured in your own opinion.” There was a tenderness to her tone. “It is likely your only real flaw, but it is also your strength.”
Darcy rubbed his swollen eye. “Bingley would agree,” he said with a sheepish grin.
“So it was Bingley who taught you this?”
Darcy could tell by her tone of voice that she knew very well it was not Bingley, so he merely just shook his head in response.
“I think I should very much like to meet her.” Lady Margaret placed her empty cup on the table next to her, spread the dress she was working on across her lap, and began pinning the lace from Mr. Gardiner’s store onto it.
“I hope to present her to you eventually,” Darcy admitted. “However, I have not properly called on her at home, so your introduction may have to wait for some time.”
Lady Margaret looked up from her pinning. “I shall welcome her whenever you are ready.”
Darcy muttered his thanks.
“Now, tell me of Bingley’s angel.”
“That would be Miss Elizabeth’s sister,” Richard supplied.
“Oh! The one I met at the shop?” Georgiana asked excitedly.
“Two ties to trade?” Lady Matlock muttered.
“Yes,” Darcy answered to them both.
“Miss Bennet is so very nice,” cooed Georgiana. “I am certain there is not a more pleasant lady in all of England — and so pretty! I described to her your dress, Grandmama, and she knew exactly what lace would be best. I had thought it would be one, but she insisted it would be another. And she was correct.”
“Lace, Georgiana?” Darcy asked with a laugh. “Did I not suffer enough yesterday on our shopping trip? Must we speak of lace?”
“Make yourself scarce,” retorted Lady Margaret. “We ladies enjoy a bit of banter about pretty things.”
“As do we gentlemen.” Richard laughed as he rose from his chair. “Come, Darcy, I will relieve your torment and find something with which we can amuse ourselves, and it shall not be lace.”
Darcy rose to follow his cousin from the room. But on hearing Georgiana whisper that he had not looked all that tormented yesterday, he paused, turned toward her, and raised a brow. “Georgiana, I shall thank you to not make me the object of gossip.”
“Oh, I would not dream of allowing something so horrid as that to happen,” his grandmother assured him. “However, I do not believe it is gossip if she tells me of the shop where she purchased this fine bit of lace. That is simply relating an event.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “You are incorrigible,” he muttered, earning him a broad grin in response.
“Yes, I am,” Lady Margaret agreed. “Now make yourself scarce.”
With a sigh, Darcy did just that, knowing full well, that every detail about Elizabeth which might be wrung from his sister would be.
Chapter 7
Elizabeth placed her hand on Darcy’s arm and allowed him to escort her from their supper box and toward one of the numerous paths in Vauxhall Gardens. The vast number of people that filled the supper boxes and paths was astonishing, and then when the torches were lit, and the orchestra was playing while waiters scurried back and forth making certain that all in attendance were happy, it was nearly overwhelming. She had heard stories of this place, but until now, she had never truly imagined its grandeur.
Darcy drew Elizabeth closer to his side as they strolled. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely.”
Darcy smiled at how the word was more breathed than spoken. “I had wondered. You have been rather quiet.”
She looked up at him. “I am awestruck by my surroundings. There is nothing quite like this in He
rtfordshire.”
“Most assuredly,” he agreed with a chuckle.
“I am surprised you would venture into this vast sea of humanity,” she teased. “Our little assembly with its gathered throng was a great trial to you.”
He saw her lips twitch, and he waited for her to complete her tease before he refuted her.
“Perhaps,” she said, cocking a brow in a rather beguilingly impertinent fashion, “that is because the residents in the country are unwashed savages.”
“Oh, indeed they are,” he replied with a smile. “I have it on the greatest authority.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Do tell,” she prompted.
He leaned his head near her ear and whispered, “Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“I assure you it is true because her sister verified the fact and some rude man lent his voice to the assessment if I am not mistaken.” He bent toward her ear once again. “You will forgive me for such ungentlemanly behaviour, will you not? I am attempting to improve my ways.”
There was such contrition in his whispered words that she gave his arm a small squeeze and readily bestowed her pardon. Mr. Darcy had over the last four days been the perfect gentleman. Both her aunt and uncle had been duly impressed by his manners. According to Aunt Gardiner, there was nothing of grandeur about him, save for the way he carried himself when walking. However, it was not deemed arrogant but rather dignified. Aunt Gardiner had spoken at some length of how of anyone she had met, Mr. Darcy was justified in thinking of himself in lofty ideals since she had seen his estate and knew many of his tenants. The man was of no small fortune, and he was, to her knowledge, always just in his dealing with tradesmen in Lambton. Bills were not left unpaid, and even lowly delivery boys were given a nod when he saw that they were doing their work well.
Elizabeth had heard enough arguments in Darcy’s favour to settle her more firmly in her new belief of his being among the best of men. Then, having observed him in her uncle’s home as well as when she and Jane had gone to Darcy House to have tea with his grandmother and Georgiana, she was beyond convinced of her correctness in viewing him in such a light. So convinced was she of his noble character that she allowed her heart to be open to his declaration to her, and though it was little more than a fortnight since that horrid evening in the parsonage, she found herself quite certain that should he offer for her again, she would accept with alacrity. For her heart spoke of love, though her mind had yet to fully comprehend it.
