Earning Darcy's Trust

by Jennifer Joy

  Elizabeth donned a becoming emerald green dress. It was not her best gown, but it was her favorite color.

  She looked at her reflection in the mirror she and Jane shared just as Mother passed by their door.

  “You are not going in that frock, Lizzy. Wear your white dress. It will look much more becoming in the candlelight.”

  She continued on to Mary’s room, talking all the while, like a mother hen clucking at her chicks.

  Elizabeth turned to Jane. “She is serious, Jane. What if the gentleman is horrible?”

  “I am sure he shall be agreeable. You are too quick to judge, but if you took care, you would see that everybody has good qualities.” Jane could find something nice to say about the devil himself if pressed.

  “If I am too judgmental, Jane, than you are too forgiving. I trust Charlotte will tell us what his true character is lest we are both proved wrong.” Elizabeth laughed at her flaws and vowed to be as agreeable as she expected the gentleman to be.

  As their carriage drew near Lucas Lodge, Mother reminded them to be on their best behavior. Elizabeth knew the admonition was mostly for her benefit, but she hoped her younger sisters would pay it heed. Dinner was not an appropriate time for Mary to recite sermons. Nor were Kitty and Lydia’s incessant struggles for attention appreciated.

  Their dinner party consisted of twenty couples lined down the long table. Lady Lucas put herself to great troubles ensuring each lady had a gentleman to escort her in and talk to during dinner. Elizabeth wondered at her generosity in inviting them as often as she did, them being six females and only one male. As Lady Lucas had two daughters of her own, the demand for male guests at the table was ever present. She always managed, but tonight she had a special guest, a single nephew, Mr. Edgar Fawcett.

  Mr. Fawcett’s shoulders were soft and rounded. Perfectly coiffed fair hair surrounded his oval face, accentuating his chins. Really, it was hard to see how many chins he had, for his neck stretched up to meet the bottom one in a curtain of skin, interrupted only by his intricately tied cravat, pierced through with a ruby pin— like a turkey dressed in finery. He was quick to offer his arm to Jane when dinner was called.

  Elizabeth sat almost opposite them, next to a recently widowed clergyman. He was quiet for most of the meal and preferred to hear the many condolences of Mary, who sat to his left.

  Several times during the meal, Mr. Fawcett licked his lips as he looked at Jane. Whether it was a result of his hearty appetite or not, it was a distasteful gesture, and he quickly fell into Elizabeth’s disfavor. His voice was too weak for Elizabeth to hear it clearly across the table, but she could see he made Jane uncomfortable. She ate little and spoke less.

  Mother sat on the other side of Mr. Fawcett, and where Jane avoided conversation, Mother eagerly filled in the silence with praise for her eldest daughter.

  The dinner went on and on for hours with little intelligent conversation taking place. Elizabeth had hoped that at least the other gentlemen at the table would express interests outside the realms of the meal and the weather, but that was too much to hope for. She occupied herself between keeping an eye on Jane and eating the food on her plate. The company left more to be desired, but the meal was delicious. She would pay her compliments to Lady Lucas when given the opportunity.

  At last, the meal ended, and the gentlemen stayed in the dining room to drink port. The ladies joined Lady Lucas in the drawing room for embroidery and conversation.

  Charlotte sat between Elizabeth and Jane on a sofa at a comfortable distance from the rest of the ladies. In a whisper she asked, "What is your opinion of Mr. Fawcett?”

  Jane considered before replying, “He is very knowledgeable about horses,… specifically, the racing kind. He called me a lovely filly more than once, and I think he thought the comparison an appropriate sort of compliment.”

  That was the closest thing to a complaint Elizabeth had heard from Jane in a long time.

  “I am not one to interfere in these things, but he has his eye on you, Jane. I would take care.” Charlotte lowered her voice still more, putting up her hand as a screen between them and the rest of their guests, “He is not called amongst our relatives ‘the leaky faucet’ for nothing.”

  Elizabeth bit her tongue to keep from laughing. “Charlotte! You astonish me!” she hissed.

  Charlotte grinned impishly. She had a sense of humor very similar to Elizabeth’s— only she was much better at disguising it.

  “He has led a coddled existence, but his excessive ways have put a strain on my uncle’s coffers. I think they sent him in hopes of arranging a marriage of convenience; that my dowry would resolve some of his gambling debts. Well, he shall not get it.” Practical Charlotte.

  Giggles and shouts of delight drew their attention.

  "Did you hear that, Jane? Mr. Fawcett all too plainly told Mother that he has come to Hertfordshire seeking a wife. I wonder whom he will choose." Lydia jumped up from her seat and twirled with her hands clasped to her breast.

  Charlotte looked at Elizabeth from out of the corner of her eyes, her lips pursed in silence.

  Not so discreetly, Mother plied Lady Lucas with questions about the young man.

  “Is he the eldest son?”

  Lady Lucas paused before answering. “He is and he stands to inherit his father’s estate.”

  Charlotte leaned into Elizabeth and whispered, “Along with a mortgage.”

  “I suppose the estate is very grand, is it?” asked Mother.

  “Parts of the house are delightfully modern. They have been renovating it for some time.”

  Charlotte whispered, “Because they cannot afford to finish.”

  Mother continued her questionings. “Is it very far from here? I wonder we have not met before, his being your family and all.”

  “The estate is in Cambridgeshire, not an uncomfortable distance.”

  “How disappointing he is not closer to the coast. I do not suppose he has a house in town, does he?”

  “He does not have a townhouse, but he is often in town. He belongs to Watier’s.”

  Mother clapped excitedly, her face brightening. “Oh, White’s! Such an exclusive gentleman’s club. Did you hear that, Jane?”

  Mother would not hear a correction, though Lady Lucas tried. Elizabeth had never heard of Watier’s before and suspected it was just another fancy name given to a gambling house— not the exclusive gentleman’s club, White’s.

  When the gentlemen joined them after an hour, Elizabeth stuck to Jane’s side like a burr. Mother gave her looks and motioned for her to scurry when she thought nobody was looking, but Elizabeth paid her no heed. From the way Jane linked her arm through hers, she knew her sister was grateful.

  Mary played a few songs on the pianoforte. Lydia and Kitty tried to determine if there were enough participants to have a dance right there in the drawing room if they moved some furniture. Their plans were foiled when Mary played song after song of solemn tunes. She only quit when Father stood up and declared that it was high time he and his family retired for the evening.

  Mr. Fawcett, who had managed to sit in a chair next to the settee Elizabeth and Jane shared, expressed his sadness that they should depart so soon and promised he would not delay in paying a call.

  Mother glided out to the carriage. When everyone cramped in and the door closed, she announced, “You shall be engaged before the month ends, Janey.”

  Elizabeth would not have it. “Mother, we have it on good authority that he needs to marry into money.”

  Mother waved off her concern. “What is money compared to Jane’s beauty? He will learn to appreciate the merits of a good wife over a wealthy one.”

  Father’s head leaned against the seat cushion, feigning sleep. He could not be counted on to interfere.

  “I am doing you a grand favor, my girls, helping you to settle into your own homes before your father falls ill and we are turned out of Longbourn. One day, you will thank me and take pity on your poor mother, wh
o has suffered so much.”

  Putting her hand on Jane’s, she added, “You will be encouraging when he calls and accept when he asks.”

  Not if Elizabeth could help it.

  Chapter 5

  Darcy would enjoy the theater— if only there were not so many people. Dinner at the Bingleys’ had resulted in an invitation to the theater the following night.

  Towering a head above most men, he maneuvered Georgiana through the crush to find Bingley’s box, ignoring stares the whole way. He had worn black coattails with black breeches and stockings in an attempt to blend in, but it did not appear to be working.

  Chandeliers cast shadows over faces. Thick, red velvet curtains and silk gowns shimmered, wrapping their patrons in luxury— or the appearance of it.

  Bingley stood at the entrance of his box and signaled them over with a large grin. It was a relief to fall away from the crowd with its pressing elbows and heeled shoes. A feathered turban had tickled across Darcy’s face, and his nose still itched.

  Following Georgiana into the box, Darcy saw the rest of Bingley’s family. There was Mr. Hurst and his wife, Mrs. Hurst, who was Bingley’s elder sister. Mr. Hurst heaved himself out of his chair, bowed, then collapsed back into it. The exertion must have been overwhelming for him. Mrs. Hurst paid him no heed, but rather attached herself to her younger sister to join in on the compliments to Georgiana’s gown.

  “You are the epitome of understated elegance tonight, Miss Darcy,” she said.

  “Some of us have been blessed with natural beauty, Louisa.” Miss Bingley looped her arm through Georgiana’s, somehow understanding the compliment to be hers as well.

  Darcy looked at her face, comparing it to Georgiana’s. Georgiana had their mother’s high forehead with large, blue eyes surrounded by dark eyelashes; a straight nose leading down to rosy lips with a perfect cupid’s bow; a clear complexion and fair, golden hair. She was every bit as beautiful as Mother had been.

  Miss Bingley might be considered beautiful had she not been standing next to the loveliest young lady in the whole theater. Her nose turned up on the end and she had a tendency to purse her already thin lips. She tended to hold her head at such an angle that made her appear superior to others. From some of her recent comments, Darcy suspected she suffered from an excess of unfounded pride, the complete opposite to her brother, who was humble enough to ask advice from those qualified to give it— just as he had while at Cambridge. He had not changed much over the years.

  Miss Bingley made sure to seat herself next to Georgiana, making observations and pointing out several individuals of varied importance in the crowd below them and in the boxes across from them.

  Bingley cleared his throat. “Darcy, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you. I know you to be a gentleman experienced in managing an estate admirably and, as such, seek your advice.”

  “You have my attention.”

  “Well, a few weeks ago, it occurred to me that circumstances in my life are such that I should like to settle. I have lived most of my life in London, and while it has been good in many ways, I do not wish to live here forever. I should like to take a hand at the quieter life. Raise a family. Hunt in the fall. Fill the stables with good horseflesh… You get the idea. So, I let an estate.” He laced his fingers, fumbling them nervously, and looked intently at Darcy.

  Darcy was not sure how he was supposed to react, but he congratulated his friend.

  “Where is this property? Do you think to purchase?” he asked.

  Bingley fidgeted with excitement. “I have been dying to tell you about it. It is in Hertfordshire, and the estate, Netherfield Park, has been vacant for some time. It is near a village called Meryton. I sent servants there a couple days ago to ensure the house is ready to receive us at the end of September.”

  “A month hence?”

  “Yes. Just in time to enjoy some hunting and meet our neighbors before winter sets in.”

  “I have passed through Hertfordshire many times. It seems like a fine place to settle.”

  “Would you consider coming with us? You and Miss Darcy would be a welcome addition to our party.” He indicated all the occupants of his theater box.

  About to give Bingley an answer, he saw Georgiana nearly swoon in her chair.

  Miss Bingley smacked her hand, and Mrs. Hurst fanned her face.

  “Georgiana, are you well?” He followed her look and saw.

  Wickham knew they had seen him. He sat in a box across from them with several other officers and gentlemen, each accompanied by a lady dressed to leave a lasting impression. Jewels sparkled and colorful waistcoats screamed extravagance.

  Knowing he was watched, he turned to the woman he sat next to. He whispered something in her ear. He leaned in so closely, she must have felt his breath on her skin. Then, he slowly pulled away to lift her hand and kiss it as he looked Georgiana’s way. He blatantly scoffed at her pain.

  “It is frightfully hot in here. Louisa, keep fanning. Charles, go get Miss Darcy something to refresh herself.” Miss Bingley took over so efficiently that Darcy could only sit by and wait for his opportunity to help.

  “You see that lady sitting there, allowing that officer to pay her inappropriate attentions? It is quite shocking, really. Her name is Miss Cordelia Campbell. She has such a reputation, her parents have settled a large dowry on her just to get her out of their home. You see, she has two younger sisters, and they fear she will ruin them if she continues so. I doubt her jewelry is real. It is probably paste.” Miss Bingley chatted away as Georgiana recovered herself.

  Bingley looked closer. “Is that not Wickham? I see he has not changed much since University.”

  Georgiana pushed aside Mrs. Hurst’s fan and pivoted to look at Bingley. “You knew him at Cambridge? What was he like?”

  Darcy saw Miss Bingley’s eyes narrow at Georgiana. If she made a connection between the two, Georgiana’s reputation would lie in ruins. “Mr. Wickham grew up at Pemberley, Miss Bingley. We were raised together, and Georgiana thought him another brother.”

  Miss Bingley raised her head in understanding. “Oh.”

  Bingley’s face reddened, and he looked about him for an excuse not to speak when he saw that Georgiana still awaited his answer. “Well, I hate to speak ill of anybody, but I remember thinking that if he did not change his associates, he was on a fast path to ruin. It appears that he is doing better. Taken up in the militia, I see.” He raised his hand in Wickham’s direction where the red of his uniform stood out in the sea of dark colored coats.

  “He cannot be all bad if he is accompanying Miss Campbell, but I would not know. I do not keep company with those who do not uphold the same moral code I do.” Miss Bingley raised her nose in the air and turned away from looking at the occupants of the box opposite them, effectively snubbing the lot.

  Georgiana shrugged her shoulders and feigned indifference. It was impressive to Darcy to watch her recover after her initial shock. Her eyes, which had sparkled with unshed tears over the past two weeks, hardened as did her whole semblance. She joined Miss Bingley in her gossip, giving every appearance of enjoying herself without so much as casting a look toward Wickham.

  Darcy was overwhelmed with relief at the change in her. He had been thinking of excuses for them to retire without giving cause to suspect their real reason in leaving, but there no longer was a need to do so.

  Bingley had gone to get some refreshments for the ladies. When he returned, Darcy made a decision.

  “You asked me if we might join you in Hertfordshire. I think it is an excellent idea. Georgiana and I would love to accompany you.”

  To say Bingley was happy would have been an understatement.

  Darcy cracked a smile. It was the perfect solution. What was the likelihood of Wickham showing up in an out-of-the-way place like Hertfordshire? Georgiana’s attitude toward Wickham had changed during the evening, but Darcy did not trust him. If given the opportunity, he would attempt to hurt her again. It would
be better for Georgiana if her location was not so easily found. What she needed was time and space.

  On their way home in the early hours of the morning, Georgiana sat with her arms crossed and her back stiff. He wanted to ask what the cause of her sudden change had been, but thought better of it after looking at her. Maybe Miss Bingley would prove to be a good influence after all. She had handled the situation well for one who did not understand what was going on. Of course, she did make sure everyone duly noted her ability to take charge in duress.

  They neared Grosvenor Square. Time was running out if he wanted any conversation with Georgiana.

  “Did you enjoy the evening?” he asked, hoping she would understand what he really meant to ask.

  Snapping her eyes to him, her nostrils flared. “I hate men.”

  Chapter 6

  The day following their dinner at Lucas Lodge, Mother woke early to oversee the arranging of the house. She was convinced they would receive a call from Mr. Fawcett that afternoon, and she would do nothing to impede him, for surely he would come to propose. They could not have him kneeling down on one knee on a dirty carpet, now could they? It might ruin his white breeches. Elizabeth shuddered. She had little regard for men’s fashion, but she much preferred pantaloons with boots or even trousers like the working men in the village wore. She had no more desire to gaze upon a gentleman’s hairy calf stuffed into a silk stocking than she did to view décolletage and sheer fabric in women’s dresses.

  The house in a state of chaos, with no order possible under Mother’s contradictory directions, Elizabeth slipped outside seeking solace. She had much to consider.

  There was a bite in the breeze, signaling the end of summer, but the sun fought through. The mist had burned off and the sky was clear blue.