The Passions of Dr. Darcy

by Sharon Lathan

Alexis, His Grace, the Duke of Larent was exactly as George had envisioned. Tall and dark like his mother. Handsome and well built. He was nervous and obviously trying hard not to show it, the effect creating an illusion that was similar to George’s hazy memory of the icy former Duke of Larent. Then he focused on the young man’s eyes and knew instantly that this duke was not icy in the least.

  So quickly the impressions and exchanges passed. George was barely over the threshold and still advancing into the room. The butler, surely ignorant of the situation, spoke into the palpable silence. “Your Grace, your guest, Dr. George Darcy.”

  George waited for the door to shut, leaving the three alone, and addressed Alexis first.

  “I have always thought that was rather redundant, haven’t you? After all, you do know who your guests are since you invited them, yes?”

  “I agree.” Alexis’s baritone was firm, the power of a man born to a high station and the dignity of a peer of the realm imbued into those two words. George detected the faint tremor, though, as well as the shimmer of a warm smile playing about his mouth.

  “I am not one for propriety, as I am sure your mother has told you. Under the circumstances, that is likely a good thing.” George extended his hand to his son, who took it after a slight hesitation. “Unless I have been escorted into the wrong salon in the wrong townhouse, I do believe you are Alexis. I am George and very happy to meet you.”

  Then the duke smiled, a wide toothy smile identical to the one George had seen thousands of times in a mirror, and he clasped George’s hand tightly within both his palms.

  “And I you. Thank you for coming, George.”

  George’s Memoirs

  December 30, 1818

  Georgiana and I are on solo baby watch, Jharna! The nasty cold besetting Elizabeth over Christmas responded well to my medicines, but you know how William worries over her. It is beautiful to observe them, it truly is, even though I delight in teasing him for being a clucking hen! He arranged a three-day romantic holiday at Matlock Bath. His purpose was to partake of the reputed restorative powers of the spas. I’m dubious of the wild claims of magical healing from dipping in or sipping from water with dissolved mineral salts and sulfur, but considering the strange treatments I have seen in my day, who knows? Fact is, William grabbed on to the mineral spring nonsense as an excuse for whisking Elizabeth away and having her to himself, hence my referring to it as a romantic holiday! Not that I blame him. Matlock is a lovely area, and if you were here, Jharna, I would be whisking you there and engaging in the very activities the loving Darcys are, I promise you that!

  So while they cavort and gaze at the moonlight, we are in charge of an adorable one-year-old. Oh, what fun we are having with Alexander all to ourselves! Three days of nonstop play. Don’t fret. I can be responsible when I must, my dear. He is taking his naps, being bathed, and eating proper foods, I promise. In between, we play. He is a busy one now that he has learned to walk, or toddle, which is apt since he falls as often as he moves forward, yet he is unusual in that he can focus on a task far longer than most infants his age. We spend hours with his new miniature castle, the tiny soldiers endlessly fascinating to him. I confess it is a delight to me. No secret how I adore children. I think of our wee ones in Junnar, missing them more than I can verbalize. Sasi and Nimesh write frequently, so I am kept informed, but it is not the same as being with them. If not for Alexander, I am not sure I could survive it. Ah well, I am here now and not unhappy about it. Less and less do I wake up with a vague confusion. The frigid cold drives that away almost instantly! God, I truly think I shall never get used to it. Forgive me, love, but as I shiver in my bed, I miss you for your warmth more than anything else. Not that the vision of loving you isn’t one I long for as well, but if I am being honest, I wonder if that isn’t pure lust as much as missing you. These two years are the longest I have ever gone without a woman. Honestly, I didn’t notice the lack for a long while, my thoughts only of how I missed you, priya, in every way. I am only human—damn it all!—so the physical urges are taking over. What to do is the dilemma. Once upon a time, casual relations suited me just fine and the opportunities have been rife since I returned. Ruby has hinted that she is willing, and believe me I have been tempted! Why I resist is complicated, and I don’t completely understand it myself. Casual sex does not interest me, Jharna. Well, it does in one sense, yet each time I begin to seriously contemplate an affair, I realize I do not want the emptiness. Does that mean I want to fall in love and marry? Yes, but I cannot fathom that happening at my age and after what we shared. This reasoning brings me to Ruby. I know very well that the loving would be stupendous. Or would it? Too much time has passed between us to be certain. Mostly, I refuse to do anything to jeopardize the relationship I have with Alexis. That is far more important than my lust. I suppose I shall remain open for whatever destiny has waiting for me. Or until I am near to exploding. Whichever comes first.

  Speaking of Alexis, his Christmas gift was a new saddle and complete tack for Rathore. Can you believe it? I have my other saddles, of course. They were shipped along with my faithful old mount and the remainder of my belongings, those I wished to keep after the house sold. Honestly, I prefer my Indian saddles, as does Rathore. He is getting old and crotchety like me so hates change. The new saddle is exquisite and fits nicely on the thoroughbred William gifted me for my birthday last year, so whether on Rathore or Ghora, it will be used. Alexis is anxious to see my Marwari stallion, which will happen in February. As soon as William and Elizabeth return from steaming up the already steamy spas, we will be traveling to London for the occasion of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s marriage to Lady Simone Fotherby. I am still stunned at that development and in shock that the colonel is leaving his bachelorhood behind! Who will I carouse with now? Yes, I know it is a charade, Jharna, but I do have a frivolous rogue reputation to maintain! Now I am on my own and will need to work even harder to convince of my devil-may-care ways. Ah, the tragedy of it all! Back to Alexis, he has invited me to the ducal estate in Dorset, where he is wintering with his new bride. She is a delightful young lady and I am ecstatic that my son has married a woman he loves. What a joy! I shall spend at least a month there, with Anoop and Rathore, and then probably jaunt over to Exeter to visit with Estella and family. She tells me there is a new hospital in the city with physicians from Philadelphia on staff. American medicine I know nothing of other than through journals and articles written by Dr. Benjamin Rush and others, so I must take time to introduce myself at least, as long as I am back to London by June when William plans for us to leave for Europe. So much for relaxing in my twilight years! Did you honestly think that would happen?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Europe

  January 1819

  “Are you ready, Colonel? The reverend will soon be at the altar with Bible in hand, so this is your last opportunity to sneak out the side door.”

  “No chance of that, Dr. Darcy.” Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam stood at the mirror, adjusting the edges of his cravat with hands shaking from nervousness rather than fear. “I have been waiting for this day for longer than I realized and am anxious to claim my bride.”

  “Excellent! It warms my heart to see young men walking into the arms of matrimony with a smile on their face. Gives me hope for the future.”

  Richard looked at George’s reflection, his brows lifting. “Public proclamations of a positive attitude toward marriage, Doctor? Are you sure you are well?”

  “Don’t perish from the shock. Despite my flippant attitude, I am not averse to the idea of marriage. In fact, felicity from every corner since returning to England has caused me to rethink my sworn bachelor ways. Yes, I know! The sun may stop shining if I speak too loudly, so forget I said anything! Instead, I’ll offer one last chance for you to make a safe retreat. I can cover the exit while William explains to the guests that your sanity has suddenly been restored.”

  “Thanks, but I int
end to go through with the ceremony, sane or not.” He looked at Darcy. “How does my cravat look?”

  “Perfect. Now quit fiddling with it or you will muss the loops. Fix your jacket, and by God, do something about that missing button.”

  “Lord! Have I lost a button?” Richard grabbed at his jacket, frantically fingering the edges lined with gold buttons before turning an evil eye upon his grinning cousin. “Darcy, I am wielding a sword and am nervous as hell, so be wise in how you choose to tease me.”

  The door opened, well timed to spare Darcy’s life, and Mr. Charles Bingley stuck his head through the crack. “Colonel Fitzwilliam? Lady Simone is ready, so it is time for you to enter the chapel.”

  “Finally,” George muttered, rising from the chair where he had been reclining and clapping Richard on the shoulder. “Stare her straight in the eye, my friend, and convey the depth of your love and devotion. Don’t let nerves interfere. Cherish this day and remember every detail. Trust me, it is a memory you will want imprinted upon your mind for all eternity.”

  Richard stared into George’s intent, blue eyes and nodded slowly. “Thank you, Dr. Darcy. I will heed your advice.”

  George squeezed the groom’s arm, wished him luck, ignored Darcy’s sympathetic gaze, and left the room to find his place at the family pews, clasping Georgiana’s hand as he sat. The ceremony joining Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam in holy matrimony to Lady Simone Wrexham-Pomeroy, Marchioness of Fotherby, was lovely. The groom stood tall and handsome in his medal-emblazoned uniform with every button in place, a broad smile lighting his face as he gazed upon his bride, her visage equally radiant. Such depth of love was a joy to witness.

  It was a dreary January day outside, but inside the church, the atmosphere was sunny. Congratulations spewed forth as frothily as the champagne served during the breakfast reception at the Fotherby mansion afterward. Guests were in high spirits and the celebration merry. George was in his element, meandering from group to group with a wineglass in his hand, his gay humor at the ready. One could always count on George Darcy to add life to a party!

  He was still laughing at a bawdy joke by a trio of soldiers as he whirled around a corner and bumped roughly into a woman exiting the music room. She released a small yelp, George instinctively throwing his arm around her waist to prevent her tumbling backward into the empty doorway.

  “Blast! Hold up there, madam! Steady on your feet!” An odd dance ensued as George righted his imbalance while struggling not to spill his wine on the startled woman in his embrace. The suddenness of the situation and his extreme embarrassment did not interfere with his awareness of her soft curves and pleasant perfume. “Please, forgive my clumsiness. I suppose this is a signal to end my wine drinking. Are you unharmed, madam?”

  “I am fine, Dr. Darcy, so there is nothing to forgive. And please do not let this simple accident curtail your entertainment.”

  George frowned, mortification at his blunder replaced by confusion. She clearly knew him, or at least who he was. Reluctantly, he released the mystery woman from his embrace and stepped back a couple paces. He tried to peer into her face, but she was far shorter than he and kept her head bowed. For the life of him, he could not identify who she was, although the voice was familiar and faint recollection tugged at the corner of his brain. He swept his eyes over her figure, the dainty but voluptuous reality confirming what his senses registered while she was pressed against his chest.

  “I am glad you are well, madam, and that my medical skills were not called upon. Normally, rescuing damsels in distress or attending to the wounds of a beautiful woman is a high point to my day, but not if I am the cause! I do appreciate your encouragement to continue my amusements, but I now believe my gaiety will be diminished if you do not accompany me, so I may express my contrition over a glass of punch.”

  She flinched visibly, the blond curls framing her face hiding all but the flushed curve of one cheek. George’s lighthearted tease was clearly having the opposite effect than the one he intended, increasing his confusion but also heightening his curiosity. Unwilling to let the mystery go unsolved, he tried again.

  “I see you shaking, and I think it is a code or law from the Crown for a gentleman to ease a lady’s distress. I am certain I recall a specific article stating it is a chivalrous imperative when the distress is caused by a clumsy physician nearly knocking her senseless. Allow me to formally introduce myself—”

  “We have been introduced, Dr. Darcy, and there is no need to trouble yourself. I am fine.” She glanced up, then rapidly looked away with flaming cheeks and a nervous twist of the tresses falling across her neck.

  “Mrs. Annesley?” George gasped in shock. “You look… different!” He bit his tongue before blurting what he wanted to say.

  You look beautiful!

  The woman before him was an utter contrast to Georgiana’s drably dressed retiring companion briefly glimpsed in the shadows or corners of the rooms. Her golden blond hair was uncovered, the thick tresses twisted and curled into a becoming style. Her gown was pale blue, the color accenting her eyes, and designed in the latest fashion with feminine lace and colorful ribbons sewn strategically to draw one’s attention to the finest attributes of her figure. A figure, George noted favorably, that was petite but surprisingly lush. A sheer fichu was draped over her slim shoulders and tucked into the low décolletage but did a poor job of hiding the alabaster skin underneath or concealing the fullness of her round breasts. Taken as a whole, she was wreaking havoc on his senses. George swallowed and dragged his gaze forcibly away from her bosom back to her averted face.

  “I apologize for not recognizing you instantly, Mrs. Annesley. I had no idea you were here today.”

  “It was Miss Darcy’s request. She insisted and would not relent no matter how I pleaded the inappropriateness.”

  “Why is it inappropriate for you to be at Colonel Fitzwilliam’s wedding?”

  “It is a family affair, Dr. Darcy, and thus not my place.”

  George snorted. “Nonsense! More than half the people here are not family. Probably walked in off the street for the food.” He was encouraged to see a smile. “Georgie is fond of you, Mrs. Annesley, and speaks of you as a friend. As such, you should be here or anywhere else she invites you. I have often wondered why you do not join the family more often.”

  “Have you?”

  She gazed up at him then, the question visible in the blue depths of her eyes, as was her obvious surprise at his statement. George discerned that his response was important to her but found it difficult to puzzle out why. At the moment, thick, golden lashes framing almond-shaped blue eyes captivated him.

  “Mr. Darcy selected you as Miss Darcy’s companion due to your capabilities and intelligence, Mrs. Annesley. He has spoken highly of you, and for William to do that says volumes! Additionally, an exceptional young lady like Georgiana chooses her friends wisely, so I must assume your contribution to any gathering would be beneficial.”

  “You are kind to say so, Dr. Darcy. However, I doubt my contributions would compete with your exciting stories and knowledge of the world.”

  “They have heard all my elaborated stories and are bored with my voice dominating conversations. Feminine gossip is always preferred, believe me. In my experience, those of the fairer sex liven up any conversation.”

  “Yes, I am sure you would have experience in that regard.” She glanced away as she spoke, George catching a hint of pursed lips and an edge to her voice. Before he could conclude what she meant or why she was displeased, she went on in a more level tone, “Nevertheless, the fact remains that I am not a member of the family.”

  “Ah, yes, rules of propriety. How would we ever survive without them?” His dramatic nuance caused her to look up at him, George happy to see a glint of humor in her lovely eyes. “You are Georgie’s companion, Mrs. Annesley, and a woman of breeding and excellence, so I am told. Not a farm labore
r or stable worker shoveling manure all day. And if you were, the conversation would be even better! That I know from experience as well.” He shrugged and grinned. “I disdain the bulk of English conventions, in case you haven’t figured that out, Mrs. Annesley. Class divisions are just one of the rules I deem ridiculous. Servant or serf or king, they are much the same to me. The kings simply host better parties!”

  Mrs. Annesley shook her head but kept her eyes on George’s face, his pleasure increasing when she laughed. George felt his heart skip a beat and a shiver run up his spine.

  “I shall have to accept your superior knowledge regarding a king’s party, Dr. Darcy. And I appreciate your kindness, even if I tend to disagree with your opinions.”

  “Kindness has nothing to do with it, although it probably should, since I could have seriously wounded you with my hulking frame and sharp elbows, but now that you have the audacity to disagree with me, I am tempted to rescind the entire statement! I expect all to be dazzled by my superior intellect and wisdom. This is quite a blow, madam, and I may never recover.”

  “Yet did you not praise me for my intellect, Doctor? How beneficial could my contribution to a conversation be if I only nodded and agreed with all you said?”

  “Ah ha! See how quickly you turned my words against me? Well done, madam. I detect a clever mind inside the beautiful exterior. Do you play chess, Mrs. Annesley?”

  She blushed prettily at his praise and was clearly flattered at his reference to her beauty, yet there was a twinge of something that resembled disbelief or possibly disapproval. He could not decide, and in an instant, it was replaced by confusion and withdrawal at his question about chess. In truth, George was startled at the question too. It had slipped out and was accompanied by the vision of he and Mrs. Annesley sitting companionably across a chess table.

  “I do play chess, yes,” she replied hesitantly. “Miss Darcy and I play together from time to time and I have engaged… others in the past.”