Mr. Darcy's Scandal

by Cynthia Porter

  Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.

  This novel or any portion thereof may not be reproduced nor used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for use of brief quotations in a book review. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  MR. DARCY’S SCANDAL

  A PRIDE AND PREJUDICE VARIATION

  CYNTHIA PORTER

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  London

  Mr. Darcy and his sister Georgiana were walking together in Hyde Park early one morning when they met Elizabeth Bennet, accompanied by her cousin, Henry Gardiner, walking toward them. Elizabeth looked every inch the country girl from Hertfordshire in her light blue muslin dress, cut to fit her neat waist. Its neckline was filled with lace. On her head was a simple white bonnet tied neatly in a bow under her chin. She was smiling and laughing, which Darcy thought a bit too much, as they drew up to greet each other.

  “Mr. Darcy.” She was, as usual, polite, but nothing more. There was no warmth in her smile until she turned to Georgiana, when her face lit up with pleasure. “Miss Georgiana, how charming you look. The forest green suits you. Perhaps we can go shopping together sometime.”

  “I would like that, Miss Bennet,” Georgiana said, laughing and making the feather on her hat dance. Then she turned to Henry, who seemed to be mesmerized by her. “Mr. Gardiner. How do you do?”

  “All the better for having met you, Miss Darcy.”

  Darcy frowned and looked at Elizabeth, who met his gaze unflinchingly. Henry was only paying the girl a pretty compliment, and as he had already given his assurance to his cousin that he had no designs to find a wife, she was not going to let herself be cowed by black looks from Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  “William, can we not all walk together?” Georgiana asked. “That is, if you would like it, Miss Bennet,” she added to Elizabeth.

  “I should like that very much.” She moved to stand beside Georgiana, but Henry beat her to it. Reluctantly she fell in beside a brooding Darcy to follow them.

  “Is your cousin staying with you in London, Miss Bennet?” he asked in a low voice, so that the two young people could not hear.

  She knew his reason for asking very well. He did not like the idea of Georgiana becoming infatuated with the young man, which to her mind was very unreasonable of him. True, Georgiana was very young and Henry was something of a scapegrace, but he was by no means ineligible and who was not to say he would not settle down and make a good husband, especially when he came into control of his father’s business? “No, Mr. Darcy, he lives in chambers in Albany when he is in Town.”

  “But he visits?”

  “Naturally, he visits his parents. I should be sad if he did not. But if you are uneasy about Georgiana, I beg you not to be.”

  “Thank you. She is too young to be able to deal with young rakes.”

  “Henry is not a rake,” she said sharply. “And do you not think it would be better to allow her to meet a few young men so that she may learn how to deal with them?”

  “Time enough for that next year.”

  “And next year, no doubt, she will be thrown in among all manner of men, old and young, eligible and otherwise, and be expected to choose a husband. It is not easy for a young lady of sixteen to separate the honorable from the dishonorable. It is all too easy for her to be taken in by a flattering tongue.”

  “Believe me, Miss Bennet, I know.” He said heavily.

  She smiled in spite of herself.

  He sighed. “The trouble is that my sister thinks she knows it all…”

  “A failing of most young people, as you must know. Can you not remember what it was like to be young?”

  “Only too well. I would not have my sister make my mistakes.”

  She laughed. “Your errors belong to you, sir. The younger generation will make their own and learn by them too, as we all have to do.”

  He wanted to ask her if she had learned by her mistakes, but decided not to risk a put-down. Instead he said, “That is a very liberated doctrine, Miss Bennet, and I am not at all sure I can subscribe to it. Already Georgiana is getting above herself. She thinks I should allow her to go to Caroline Bingley’s masked ball. What do you think?”

  “Oh, no. A masked ball is not suitable for a young lady of sixteen, not yet out. I doubt Miss Bingley will invite her.”

  “No, but she has invited me and my sister thinks I could persuade her. Which, of course, I will not.”

  A little shiver of dread, of anticipation, of she knew not what, coursed through Elizabeth at the news that he had been invited. To much of her surprise, she had received her own invitation and it was taken for granted she would accept, but would he go? “You are right, Mr. Darcy, your sister must wait until she has come out before attending such a function, but I can imagine her disappointment.” She paused. “I have an idea. My aunt has been thinking of having a soirée of sorts at her home, just a few friends, young and old, with some music and a little country dancing. Would you allow Georgiana to attend that? It might recompense her a little.”

  “It is very kind of you, Miss Bennet.”

  “Not at all. I am very fond of Georgiana.”

  “So I have noticed,” he said laconically. “I believe the feeling is reciprocated.”

  “You do not mind?”

  “Not in the least. It pleases me.” His somber eyes became two shades lighter as he allowed his smile to reach his eyes and illuminate his face. When he looked at her like that, her heart turned over, and she had to remind herself that she was suppose to dislike him. She must not allow herself to be taken in by him.

  “Then I shall make the arrangements. Perhaps you would allow Georgiana to help me, if she wishes to, that is.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  The young couple were drawing a little too far ahead and they hastened to catch them. A few minutes later they reached the gate where they parted company. Henry bade Georgiana goodbye with great civility and she blushed prettily before walking off beside her brother. Elizabeth watched them go, then turned for home, knowing she was becoming more and more involved with Mr. Darcy and all because of his pretty sister.

  Her emotions rode a seesaw; being in his company was both pleasure and pain and yet she could not walk away from it. It was her destiny to love him until the day she died, but that was something she would keep to herself.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Georgiana was enthusiastic about the party; her very own dance, she called it and spent more time than usual at the Gardiners’ house helping Elizabeth to make the arrangements. Darcy left them to it, which was just as well, Elizabeth told herself, she did not want him fussing around telling her what she should and should not do.

  They were writing out the invitations one morning when a message arrived from Mrs. Gardiner. There was a problem at the orphanage where her aunt volunteered and Elizabeth was asked to come right away. Elizabeth laid down her pen and sent the butler to ask for the carriage to be brought to the front door.

  “We will have to finish these tomorrow,” she told Georgiana. “I must go up and change and then I will take you
home before I go on.”

  “May I come with you to the orphanage?” Georgiana asked, when they were seated in the carriage and weaving their way in and out of the traffic in Piccadilly. “I should like to see the children.”

  “I am not sure your brother would approve, Georgiana.”

  “Why not?” He subscribes to the orphanage back home and I cannot see what harm it would do. Oh, please, Elizabeth.”

  In the event, the decision was taken out of Elizabeth’s hands for when they reached Darcy House; there was no one into whose hands she could deliver her charge. They rode on.

  When they arrived, one of the little boys ran out to hold the horses and Elizabeth took Georgiana inside where Mrs. Gardiner came forward to greet them. “I am glad you came, Lizzy. We are short on help, and I am afraid we have been robbed and I suspect one of the children. He denies it, of course. Will you speak to him?”

  “I will. Georgiana wait here for me.”

  She followed her aunt into the tiny room which was used as an office to find herself confronted by a boy of about seven, with grubby blond curls and an impudent smile. It was all she could do not to smile back. She turned from him to the plump matron beside her. “What has he stolen?”

  “Bread, Lizzy. A half a loaf. And cheese. A good pound of it.”

  Elizabeth stared down beside the boy. “Were you hungry?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not me. Ma…”

  “Your mother?” Elizabeth queried. “Do you mean you are not an orphan?”

  He did not know what she meant and did not answer. After a little gentle prodding, he told her that his mother, a widow, had sent him to the orphanage with instructions to say he had no parents because than he would be clothed and fed. The only trouble was, she could not turn her back on her son and so she had taken to hanging around outside the house in the hope of seeing him. And when she did, she asked him to bring her food.

  Mrs. Gardiner was all for having him charged, saying to let him off would set the others off and there would be no end to the pilfering, but Elizabeth could not do it. She decided to send for the child’s mother and offer her a job cleaning the orphanage, but Mrs. Gardiner had to be persuaded it was the right course to take and the lady herself had to be found, which meant that it was long past Georgiana’s usual time for going home when Elizabeth went in search of her.

  She found her sitting on the garden wall of the home, sketching in a small notebook some of the children playing in the street. She jumped up when she saw Elizabeth. “Is everything all right, Miss Bennet?”

  “Yes, perfectly. Now, let’s get you home.”

  She was not at all surprise when, drawing the carriage up at the door of Darcy House, she was confronted by an irate Mr. Darcy.

  “Come inside, Miss Bennet,” he said, tight-lipped. “I wish for an explanation.”

  Elizabeth had no intention of leaving Georgiana to face his wrath alone, and leaving one of his footmen to see to the carriage, she followed him inside.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Now, Miss Bennet,” he said, once they were in the drawing room. “You will oblige me by telling me where you have been and why you have kept my sister out so late.”

  “Naturally, I will tell you,” she said coolly. “You do not have to shout.”

  “I am not shouting,” he said, though, realizing there was some truth in what she said, lowered his tone. But that did not mean he was any less angry; the low controlled voice was even more ominous. “But if I were, there would be some justification. I trusted you to take care of my sister…”

  “Which I have done. She has come to no harm.”

  “I was not to know that.” He had been worried half to death and his relief at seeing both of them safe was tempered with anger that she could have put him through such anxiety. “How do you think I felt when I went to fetch her from your house at the time prescribed, only to find neither of you at home? Gone out urgently, I was told. What was so urgent you could not deliver my sister to me before you went on whatever errand it was?”

  “I did. Or I tried to, but there was no one at home,” she said, determined to keep calm. “You were out and so was Mrs. Annesley. The only people in the house were male servants. I promised you that Georgiana would always be chaperoned, so I decided to take her with me.”

  “Where?” He looked down at her plain gray gown. Had she introduced Georgiana, his sheltered well-bred sister, to the seamier side of London life?

  “Miss Bennet took me to the orphanage,” Georgiana put in, unaware that she was exacerbating the situation. “It was very enlightening. I had no idea…”

  “Nor should you have,” he said angrily. “It is not a proper place for you to go.”

  “Why not? If it is proper for Miss Bennet, surely there is no harm in my accompanying her? I made some sketches as well. Do you know there was a little boy there, who reminded me of someone, though I could not, for the life of me, think who.”

  “Nonsense, Georgiana! You cannot possibly know anyone in those environs. Now go to your room. I will decide what to do after I have spoken to Miss Bennet.”

  She was instantly subdued and laying the sketchbook on the table, left the room, stopping only to bob a curtsy to Elizabeth.

  “It was not Georgiana’s fault,” Elizabeth said, as evenly as she could. “You did not need to speak so sharply to her.”

  “I shall speak to my own sister exactly as I please, ma’am.” Knowing she was right did not make him feel any less like taking her shoulders in his hands and shaking her until her teeth rattled. And finishing that up by kissing her soundly. “One thing is very certain, I was wrong to think you would show her a good example of how to behave. You have been too long independent and I begin to regret my decision to hand her into your care.”

  “I have not behaved ill. The home for the orphans is not in a good area of town, I admit, but it is clean and the children are neat and well behaved. It showed her that there are those a great deal worse off than she is who deserve her sympathy. I believe it has done Georgiana no harm at all.” She paused to take stock of how he was receiving her plea, but he was flicking open the sketchbook and appeared not to be listening. “But I am truly sorry for being so late back. There was a small problem with one of the children…”

  “This one?” He held out the sketchbook for her to see.

  She saw a very competent drawing of a tousle-haired three-year-old boy. He was dressed in rags, but he had an impish face, wide bright eyes framed by delicately shaped brows and a broad grin. “No. It was one of the older boys. I don’t think I have ever seen this child before, except…”

  “Except what?” He seemed to have forgotten all about Georgiana and his whole attention was on her answer.

  “He reminds me of someone.”

  “He is perhaps one of the orphans?”

  “No, I do not think so. Unless he has newly arrived. I did not have time to talk to my aunt about any newcomers. But the home is full to bursting, I do not think there is room to squeeze even a little one in.”

  “Then how did Georgiana come to draw him?”

  “There were some children hanging round the gate…” She paused, expecting him to begin a new diatribe over letting Georgiana as far as the gate unsupervised, but he seemed mesmerized by the sketch. “Is it important?”

  “No, no,” he said hurriedly. It was not the boy, it was simply a child that looked like him. But he would have to check; he had promised himself he would leave no stone unturned, nor would he. “It is of no consequence.”

  “Then if you will excuse me, I must go, I have an evening engagement.” She took a deep breath. “I am sorry to have displeased you, Mr. Darcy. No doubt you will wish me to not see your sister again.”

  “You will continue as before, but be warned, I will not have her leave your house when she is with you, unless I accompany you both.” And he could not tell her about George Wickham, not yet, but if the man was out there somewhere and had recognized Georgiana, cou
ld he, would he, use her to exact his vengeance? Had he already seen her?

  “Mr. Darcy!” she said, so exasperated she could not hold her tongue. “I have never met anyone so top-lofty and full of his own importance. Did you never make a mistake? Did you never do something you regretted?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said softly. “Often.”

  “And I suppose you never thought of making an apology?”

  “When it was justified, of course. You think I should beg your pardon?”

  “No, I am suggesting that you might accept an apology with a good grace when it is offered. I have said I am sorry, I am not going to grovel.”

  He laughed suddenly. “No, I did not expect you would. I do accept your apology, Miss Bennet, and for what it is worth, I offer you mine.” He paused and added softly, “Let us have a truce.”

  “Very well.”

  “Then I shall bring Georgiana to you tomorrow.”

  It was as she turned to go that she saw the picture above the hearth. It was of a woman whom she assumed by her dress to be Darcy’s mother and standing at her knee was a three-year-old child—Darcy himself, she decided. What set her heart beating was the way the boy stood, leaning back a little, the left foot slightly ahead of the right, the laughing expression on his upturned face, his tousled hair. It was almost exactly mirrored by the sketch he held in his hand, except for the clothing. On one it was very fine and on the other ragged.

  It meant nothing, she told herself as she journeyed home. Georgiana had seen that picture in her brother’s drawing room every day since coming to London; she must have subconsciously copied the pose. But Darcy had been shocked by it. Darcy had such distinctive features, could he not fail to recognize his own child? Had Georgiana inadvertently sketched his love child? Were the rumors, true?

  But what was the boy doing in that horrible rundown area of London, dressed in rags? Surely Darcy had not been so unfeeling as to turn his amour away without making provision for his child? For all his arrogance, she could not believe that of him. Or had the woman left him? It was a mystery and for a few minutes it occupied her mind to the exclusion of everything else, including her own hurt. Darcy had also noticed the likeness, she was sure of it. Had he been struck by guilt? What would he do about it? By the time she arrived home she had made up her mind to try and find out more. She needed answers.