The Passions of Dr. Darcy

by Sharon Lathan

  Instinctively, he knew she meant her husband. Inexplicably, George felt a pierce of jealousy, shocking him profoundly. “Perhaps you would condescend to challenge me sometime. I am always on the hunt for skilled competition.” He could not look away from her eyes, the moment stretching as she peered intently up at him, assessing for what he did not know. Then, finally, she seemed to come to a decision and nodded slowly without breaking eye contact.

  “I think I would like that, Dr. Darcy. Very much.”

  George wanted to say something witty, but he could not think over the rush of strange sensations coursing through him as they stared at each other. It defied logic, yet all George could grasp onto was a wild urge to kiss her! It didn’t help that her eyes slipped to his mouth, her lips parting slightly. Thankfully, maybe, they were interrupted.

  “Amanda! There you are! Oh, hello, Uncle. Sorry to interrupt.”

  “Amanda. Lovely name.” George winced, for a second questioning his sanity, but when she smiled he no longer cared.

  “You are not interrupting, Miss Darcy. Did you need me?”

  Georgiana was examining both of their faces with interest. “I have great news to tell you, Amanda, but it can wait. I do not wish to intrude.”

  “You are never intruding, my dear. I would like a glass of punch anyway. Dr. Darcy, thank you for the conversation. I promise to dwell on your words seriously.”

  She curtsied and then linked arms with Georgiana, steering hastily away and leaving George standing frozen by the doorway. He could not tear his eyes away from the sensuous sway of her hips, watching until the crowds swallowed the duo from view. Amanda. Her name had never been spoken, at least not that he could recall, and while it was a lovely name, he knew his reaction to hearing it was more than the name being nice. Suddenly feeling the fool, George shrugged out of his trance and gulped the contents of the wineglass he still held in his hand.

  First pretty woman in your arms after years and you act the ridiculous adolescent!

  Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing servant, George drained the bubbling liquid as he walked in the opposite direction from where the women had gone, chalking up his reaction to being too long without a lover and shoving the episode aside as best he could.

  After a half hour of amusement, he had done a fair job of dampening the lingering sensations. He stood with Fitzwilliam on the terrace, the men retreating to a quiet location with cooler air. The drizzling rain had stopped and the clouds were attempting to part and allow the sun to shine through, but it was brisk. Still, better than the increased temperature from masses of people milling through the lower level of the house.

  “Will you still be leaving on Monday?”

  George nodded. “Anoop has everything packed, not that I intend to take all that much with me. I believe the gifts I have for everyone will take up more room than our personal belongings. I do appreciate the large carriage though. Thanks for that, William.”

  “I know how uncomfortable it is to squeeze a frame our size into a small carriage. I would rather travel on horseback. But Devon is a distance and the weather is unpredictable, so a carriage in this instance is best. I am having the team re-shod, but that will be done before Monday.”

  “Thank you again. You think of everything!”

  “I try.” Darcy grinned.

  “Malcolm tells me you have the agenda set for Europe.”

  Darcy nodded at his uncle’s question. “Mostly. He and Aunt Madeline are handling the connections in France, since they have friends in Paris and other towns. I have yet to write to Baroness Oeggl or plot the precise timeline, but we have months to prepare. I have to remain stealthy if I am going to keep it a surprise for Elizabeth on her birthday in May.”

  “So you still plan for us to depart in June?”

  “Yes. Why? You weren’t planning to stay in Devon longer, were you? Or in Dorset with your son?”

  “I will be back in London by the end of March, as I said. You might want to rethink leaving in June, however. I could be wrong, but if we want to have time to reach Austria or Switzerland, wherever Mary is dwelling at the time, and do more than turn around after a quick kiss to your Aunt Mary’s cheek, leaving in April might be better.”

  “What in the world are you talking about, Uncle?”

  “As I said, I could be wrong, but I have a vague suspicion that your holiday at Matlock Bath accomplished more than ridding Elizabeth of a lingering cold. She may have picked up something else while there, and if you are still too obtuse to figure out what I mean, I am going to start using words and phrases that will make you blush. Do I have to resort to frank language of marital intimacy and the results of such activity?”

  “Elizabeth pregnant? Do you think so?”

  George chuckled at the delighted awe washing over Darcy’s mien. “It is merely a suspicion at this point. Whether during your stay at Matlock Bath or before, if my guess is correct, Elizabeth is barely pregnant and probably only beginning to suspect herself. I would not have said anything except for our trip abroad.”

  “Maybe we should postpone until next year then.” Awe and delight were still planted on Darcy’s features, but he was also frowning with concern.

  “By then you would have two babies to tote and the way you two are Elizabeth is likely to be pregnant again.” George nudged Darcy’s foot, chuckling again at the hint of rosiness brightening his cheeks. “Elizabeth is strong and will be fine. Pregnancy is no reason not to travel.”

  As he spoke, Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley came into view behind a nearby window. They were yards from the window and several people wandered in the space between, yet the older woman turned toward him, her eyes lifting almost as if she sensed him staring at her.

  Fanciful nitwit! George chided himself. But he did not look away.

  “Besides, Georgiana is of the perfect age,” he said. “She will benefit greatly from touring the Continent. Will her companion Mrs. Annesley travel with her?”

  “I imagine so. I haven’t spoken of this to Georgiana, but Uncle Malcolm wants to take her to Italy. I thought we would all go, but if you are right about Elizabeth, that would be out of the question. I’ll need to reconsider our agenda carefully.”

  “They are close, aren’t they?” George watched the women fade into the crowd, his eyes scanning for a glimpse of a blue dress or coiled blond hair. “It seems logical that she would come along.”

  “Who?”

  George glanced at Darcy’s confused face and laughed. “We are off on different tangents, I see. I was talking about Mrs. Annesley.” George told him about their earlier encounter, leaving the private feelings out of it. “It piqued my curiosity, and you know how dangerous that is! I have been living in the same house as the woman for over a year and think I have seen her all of a dozen times and spoken to her less than that. Has she always been so retiring?”

  “No, now that you mention it. She is a bit reserved, true, but she used to join us in the evenings and the occasional meal. To be honest, Uncle, I have been immersed in my own affairs since Elizabeth and I married and haven’t given Mrs. Annesley much thought. Horrible of me, I suppose. I know Georgiana cares for her and the two have grown close. As long as Georgiana is happy and I have no reason to distrust her, I haven’t concerned myself. Elizabeth thinks well of her too.”

  “What do you know of her?”

  Darcy was looking at his uncle with full attention now, George’s casual demeanor not working. “Why the sudden interest? Is this pure idle curiosity or something more?”

  “Considering today was the first time I have exchanged more than three words with the woman, I can’t see it as more of anything. Just being a busybody.”

  Deciding it wasn’t worth investigating, Darcy shrugged and answered vaguely. “She is a widow in her mid-thirties, I believe. Her husband was a bookkeeper who worked for my mill partners and me. A good ma
n. He died, oh, six years or so ago now. They never had children, and she was living with her sister in Kent and teaching in a girl’s school when my partner Kinnison heard I was searching for a new governess for Georgiana. She was willing, her credentials were impeccable, and the situation has been agreeable. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to speak with Uncle Malcolm.”

  Darcy hastened away, leaving George leaning against the rail, absorbing the rattled information. After a minute, he shook his head, shoved the strangeness aside, and rejoined the party.

  ***

  George’s prediction proved true. By the middle of February, Elizabeth’s pregnancy with their second child was obvious. Amid his ecstasy, Darcy proceeded with arrangements for a Continental excursion, revealing the surprise to his wife over a romantic dinner in March. Georgiana was told the following day, and by the end of that week, everyone was in a dither. George returned from visiting with his son in Dorset and then his sister in Exeter during the last week of March and quickly dove into his own preparations. Warmer clothes were definitely necessary to survive even the summer in Switzerland, George shocking everyone by purchasing English suits and fur-lined jackets for himself and Anoop. Replenishing his medical supplies also topped the list, George a firm believer in traveling with the mindset that anything could happen, needing just the right medicine for the job. After so many years of doing so, it was an established routine, and his trusty, old trunk was speedily reorganized to accommodate tools of his trade alongside personal belongings.

  Hardly before anyone could breathe, it was April and they were at Dover walking the swaying docks toward the ferry that would transport them across the Channel to Calais in France.

  “I can’t believe I am willingly boarding a ship,” George muttered to Darcy, who already looked as green as he did. “I thought when I decided to stay in England my sailing days were over.”

  “It is a short trip. Just a few hours, so we should survive. At least that is what I keep telling myself.”

  “Don’t be such ninnies. Stand bravely at the rail, relish the fresh salt air, and ride the waves proudly! It is a fine adventure, and if we are lucky, we will encounter rough seas to enhance the fun.”

  They both turned to glare at the grinning Lord Matlock.

  “Madeline, if we arrive in Calais and you can’t find your husband anywhere, it is because William and I tossed him overboard.” Lord Matlock laughed, as did everyone else, apparently mercy at the Darcy men’s suffering in short supply.

  Halfway into their voyage, Darcy disappeared below deck, preferring to succumb to his seasickness in private. George stayed on deck, tucked into an out-of-the-way nook with a view of the ocean and chewed on a hunk of ginger root. Years of seafaring had proven this to work best when the queasiness hit hard. So far, he hadn’t emptied his stomach but he wasn’t tempting fate by moving around or straying far from the railing.

  “Dr. Darcy, I brought you some tea. It is a mixture of raspberry leaf, black horehound, and I am not sure what else. Anoop said it would help.”

  “Ah, thank you, Mrs. Annesley. I discovered this concoction on my first voyage home. It doesn’t always work but has a better record than some I have tried.” He drank the hot beverage in one long swallow and held out the cup for a refill from the pot she carried. “Pull up a barrel and keep me company. It will distract me, and I promise to warn you before my stomach rebels so you can scurry away. I’d rather not embarrass myself more than usual if I can avoid it.” To his delight, she did sit, her face turned toward the rolling sea. “Seasickness does not affect you, I take it?”

  “Not so far. This is my first time on a ship, so I was not sure what to expect.”

  “You never sailed anywhere? Not even a boat on a wide river? I do believe I envy you, Mrs. Annesley,” he teased, toasting her with his teacup.

  “Oh no! I envy you, Doctor, and the incredible sights you must have seen. Anoop says you have traveled all over India, and if half the natives are as delightful as he, I can imagine how marvelous it must be there.”

  “We have been to quite a number of places, yes.”

  In the few times he had encountered her since the wedding, George had not been able to exchange more than a few pleasantries. Today, she was wholly different, staring at him boldly with bright eyes and seeking him out directly. Additionally, she was wearing a figure-flattering new gown and pelisse in royal blue. Her bonnet was adorned with flowers, the brim shading from the harsh sun but not hiding her flawless features or spun-gold hair. All in all, she was captivating and once again George’s thoughts were spiraling into strange areas. He was not sure what to think of his musings, including the faint bite of irritation at Anoop carrying on conversations with her. Whether that was due to a hint of jealousy or anxiety over what she had gleaned about him during chats with his Indian assistant, George was not sure.

  “Do you miss India, Doctor? Do you think you will ever return?”

  “I do miss it, yes, but I will not return. I have friends there I would love to visit, but it is a long way and this short trip reminds me of why I rarely came home during all those years and one reason why I decided to stay in England.”

  “If you had to pick one place that was the most amazing, what would it be?”

  “Well”—he scratched at his chin—“I am not sure I could pick one to be honest.” For a while, he spoke of India and the places he had gone. She asked some questions but listened mostly. George evaded references to Jharna or anyone else, keeping the focus on the sights and interesting events.

  “It must be difficult to leave your intrepid life behind. England must seem dreary to you in comparison.”

  “On the contrary, Mrs. Annesley. I am not as awestruck by adventure as I once was. I suppose age has tempered my hunger, and now I am content to rest my ancient bones.”

  “You are far from old, Dr. Darcy.” She spoke with force, almost as if angry at his jest, then flushed and ducked her head. “I only meant that an old man would not embark on this journey with your vigor and enthusiasm.”

  “Indeed, you have a point, madam,” George chuckled. “I admit to being terrified of the snow I may fall into while in Switzerland, but aside from that, I am giddy as a child to see Paris again. I detect a fair amount of giddiness from you as well.”

  “I shan’t deny the charge. France, Switzerland, and then Italy. It is more than I ever dreamed of and I would be lying to say I am not overjoyed at the opportunity.”

  “It shows. Your face is glowing and eyes sparkling.” The pretty rosiness increased, but she did not look away from his face. “You have no trepidations over crossing the Alps?”

  “I am sure it is my ignorance revealed, but no. I can’t fathom mountains as high as the Alps reputedly are. Perhaps I will quake in my shoes once we are there, staring upward at the apex.”

  George cocked his head, his eyes intent on her animated visage. “I think not, Mrs. Annesley. I detect an intrepid streak within you that has waited patiently to be unleashed. Besides, William will ensure the crossing over St. Bernard’s Pass is as safe as a stroll through Hyde Park before allowing Georgiana to take it.” She laughed and nodded her head at that truth, George helpless but to laugh with her.

  They talked the entire way to Calais, the crossing passing too swiftly for George’s liking, which considering his initial misery was a remarkable admission! While tarrying in Calais for the ship to be unloaded and their carriages prepared, George brought a chess board to the table where Mrs. Annesley sat with the women, whose eyes were glued to the bustling docks outside the pub where they waited. She laughed at his grinning challenge, the game played with advice from the others making it more of a frivolous team effort than serious competition.

  Traveling in a small caravan provided plenty of opportunities for George to observe and interact with Mrs. Annesley. Indeed, she was giddy, as were the other members of their company who had never been to F
rance. Everything excited them, their questions and pointing fingers constant. George teased by pointing to idiotic objects like a blade of grass or small stone with overblown enthusiasm. They merely laughed and played along. It did not take George long to recognize that the carefree, friendly, witty Mrs. Annesley he conversed and jested with was her natural pose and not a new creation based on the unique circumstance. Why she suddenly relaxed with him after nearly two years of evasion was a mystery he was determined to solve.

  By the time they reached Paris and entered the palatial mansion at number eighteen on the Rue Andre Dolet within the Marais arrondissement that was owned by the Marquis Dissandes de la Villatte, a friend of Lord and Lady Matlock, George had given in to the fact that Mrs. Annesley intrigued him. No longer was his attraction attributed to suppressed sexual desire and the fact that she was a lovely woman. Indeed, she was lovely, and indeed, his body was screaming for more than what he could manage himself. Nevertheless, George wasn’t an innocent. It had been a long time since he had gazed upon any woman other than Jharna with fascination but not so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to connect with a particular lady.

  He wanted her. No doubt there. She was beautiful and unconsciously sensual, arousing him by simply being near or when he thought of her. He could effortlessly imagine touching her, kissing her, tasting her, and all the myriad ways they could find pleasure together. However, George had never wasted his time with a woman, no matter how physically appealing she was, if he did not feel a strong affinity beyond desire. All the women he pursued relationships with were women he enjoyed being with in every way. Mrs. Annesley was such a lady, and with each passing day, George’s esteem, infatuation, and yearning grew.

  She fluctuated between gay animations bordering on coquettishness to shy withdrawal that hinged on being cold. The latter typically followed the first, as if she regretted being amiable or feared his response. What he could not deduce was if she wanted him to boldly seduce her and was miffed that he didn’t or if she was sending a signal that her friendliness was not to be interpreted as an invitation. It didn’t help clear his confusion that they were only alone long enough for his fondness and respect to increase but not for a serious, pointed conversation.