Mr. Darcy's Scandal

by Cynthia Porter

  CHAPTER FOUR

  She was back in Cheapside the following morning, before the children had even finished their breakfasts. Rolling up her sleeves, she helped to serve them with nourishing gruel and bread and butter. She looked closely into the face of each one, but none resembled the child Georgiana had drawn.

  “Are all the children here?” she asked Mrs. Gardiner. “There are none ill and still in bed? I should not like to miss anyone out.”

  “They are all here, Lizzy.”

  So the mystery child was not one of the orphans. Did he live nearby? Where was his mother?

  “It is a strange thing, but there was a man here last night asking the same question,” her aunt added. “At least, not a gentleman, for he was dressed very ordinary, as if he was down on his luck. He had a drawing of a little boy and asked me if I knew him, which I didn’t, but I don’t think I would have told him if I had. It was all too suspicious.”

  “Did he say who the child was?”

  “No, Lizzy. Nor who he was. He had another young fellow with him, who never opened his mouth. Up to no good, I’ll be bound.”

  Elizabeth knew it was Darcy. Georgiana had seen him leaving the house dressed like a laborer. So that was the reason for it. He was searching for his bastard son. How had he come to be lost? What did he mean to do when he found him? The questions plagued her. “Mrs. Gardiner, if you ever come across that child, find out where he lives and send for me, will you please?”

  She left the house and returned to the Gardiner home on Gracechurch Street. She only just had time to change into a yellow day-dress, tidy her hair and compose herself on a sofa in the drawing room before Darcy and Georgiana were announced.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said, dropping him a curtsy.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said, with an inclination of his head. “I hope I find you well?”

  “Indeed, yes. And you?”

  “Yes, Indeed.”

  She smiled at him. His ire of the evening before seemed to have vanished. He was urbane and smiling, but his eyes looked tired and there was a paleness about his complexion she had not noticed before, as if he were bowed down by worry. She found herself feeling sorry for him. “Do sit down,” she said. Returning to the sofa, she sat down and patted the seat beside her. “Georgiana, sit beside me.”

  He flung up the skirt of his dove gray frock-coat and sat down on one of her gilded chairs, putting his hat on the floor beside him. Georgiana flopped down beside Elizabeth and then, as if remembering a lecture delivered before they arrived, sat upright and folded her hands neatly in her lap. It was all so formal, so trite, so awkward that Elizabeth wanted to laugh. She rang the bell and sent a footman to the kitchen with a message for refreshments to be provided.

  “Now, Mr. Darcy,” she said, deciding to take the bull by the horns. “What have you decided?”

  “Decided?”

  “Yes, about Georgiana and I spending time together.”

  “It is to continue, of course. I said so yesterday.”

  She was not sure that she didn’t prefer the bombastic dictatorial Darcy to this scrupulously polite man. He gave her nothing to fight and she wanted to fight. She had to have a contest in order to prove she was alive, that she was her own mistress. And not his, definitely not his. “And I am free to proceed in my own way?”

  “Subject to the provisions I outlined yesterday. Why do you ask?”

  “It is best to have everything perfectly clear between us, don’t you agree?”

  “Of course.” He bowed very slightly, knowing there was more to what she was saying than appeared.

  “And the soirée?”

  “It is up to your aunt to whom to invite into her home, Miss Bennet.”

  “Yes, but will you allow Georgiana to attend?”

  “I have said so.”

  “Good. Then we will finish the invitations today.” She paused, smiling. “There is no necessity for you to stay now. I promise you we will not venture out, except perhaps to the garden.”

  His mouth twitched at that and he rose to leave them. “I will return in two hours.”

  As soon as he had gone, Elizabeth, who had suddenly realized she had been holding her breath, let it out in a long sigh of relief. She had survived another encounter with him and she had not given herself away.

  “Oh, he is comical when he is trying not to be rude,” Georgiana laughed, as they went upstairs to the boudoir where the half finished invitations were scattered across her escritoire.

  “Was he very angry?”

  “No, he rang a peal over me, but it was not so bad. And he can never be truly angry with you.”

  “Goodness, he gave a very good impression of wrath yesterday afternoon.”

  “Oh, that means nothing, he soon got over it. This morning he was all sunshine and ready to forgive and forget.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Now, let us finish these invitations and send them out, then we had better get down to work, or he will be back before we have done.”

  And with that she closed her mind to Darcy and the little boy and concentrated on the girl and the evening she was arranging a week hence.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When Elizabeth visited the home in Cheapside the following day, she found Mrs. Gardiner flitting around in great excitement, picking things up and putting them down again, giving the children tasks and then changing her mind. It was so unlike her aunt to be excitable, Elizabeth supposed something very out of the ordinary had happened.

  “Oh, Lizzy,” she said, on seeing her. “Such news, such wonderful news. We have a mystery benefactor. A very generous man. He has bought a new home for us. A whole house, big enough for us to take care of all the orphans we have and more besides—what do you think of that?”

  “My goodness, that is good news,” Elizabeth said, realizing immediately that a bigger house could accommodate more children in need.

  “Where is this house?” she asked, unwilling to spoil her aunt’s happiness by pointing out the drawbacks.

  “Not too far away. There is work to be done on it before we can move, but the older children will help and there are one or two ladies like ourselves who do not mind rolling up their sleeves. We shall soon have everything set to rights.”

  “You may count on me to do whatever I can, Aunt. Just at present, my time is limited before I must return home.”

  “Oh, Lizzy, you already do so much, I did not mean…”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I know you did not, but rest assured, any spare time I have is at your disposal.”

  Balancing the two sides of her life was becoming more and more difficult, but she did not want to give up either, and besides, it kept her busy and left her no time to brood. She had done enough of that in Hertfordshire and had soon discovered it did not help. It had not restored Darcy to her and it would not do so now. She went back to Gracechurch Street to complete the preparations for the soirée.

  Because it was Georgiana’s debut in such company, Elizabeth, with Darcy’s consent, had helped her to choose her dress and very lovely she looked. The gown was white, as befitted a young lady not yet out, made of silk and gauze and decorated with tiny seed pearls. It had a high waist, little puffed sleeves and a decorous boat-shaped neckline.

  In the last few weeks Georgiana had lost the gaucheness of the adolescent girl, the slight clumsiness when moving in a crowded room and was developing a poise which would have flattered a young lady two or three years older.

  “I am proud of you,” Elizabeth whispered to her when she arrived on the arm of her brother.

  “Thank you.” Georgiana dropped a deep curtsy.

  Elizabeth turned towards Darcy, who was dressed in a plum-colored tailcoat, gray pantaloons tucked into polished black Hessians and a white brocade waistcoat. There was a diamond pin in his pristine white cravat and a pleasant smile on his face. A handsome devil, she decided, the picture of elegance. And unaccountably she found herself wondering what he looked like dressed as a vagrant in ragged fus
tian breeches and scuffed leather jerkin. Would she love him any the less? In which guise had his mistress known him? Had she even known who he really was?

  Convinced her expression would give her away, she bowed her head so that he could not properly see her face. She really must rid herself of this obsession with him, with his mistress, whoever she was, with the mysterious child and pay attention to her duties. “Welcome, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Miss Bennet,” he said, removing his hat and bowing to her, while appraising her openly. She was in a gown of deep blue silk. The full skirt, narrow sleeves and square neckline were edged in gold ribbon and more gold ribbon was twined through her hair, which was done in a Grecian style which showed off her long pale neck. A simple gold band adorned her neck. There was no doubt in his mind that she was the loveliest woman there and he was filled with a deep longing and even deeper regret.

  A footman relieved him of his hat and cloak and Georgiana of her shoulder cape and they proceeded into the reception room. Because it was only a small informal gathering, Elizabeth had decided not to use the ballroom, but to take the carpet out of the drawing room so that the young people could dance. There were hostesses who judged an evening by how much of a squeeze it was, but Elizabeth preferred her guests to have room to move about freely and talk to each other in comfort so, though the room soon filled, it was not overcrowded.

  The Gardiners were there of course, with Mrs. Gardiner in a gown of lemon silk trimmed with blue. And cousin Henry in black evening suit, spoiled in Elizabeth’s opinion, by a bright cerise waistcoat and huge cravat. Mr. Charles Bingley made an unexpected appearance, looking dashing albeit disappointed to discover Elizabeth’s older sister, Jane, had not traveled with her to London.

  There was also Mr. and Mrs. Stanford, Lord and Lady Brasford with Julia, Lord and Lady Fairchild with Anthea, and half a dozen other young ladies and a few hand-picked eligibles. Georgiana was soon besieged by young gentlemen wishing to dance with her.

  “A lovely girl,” Henry drawled when Elizabeth finally had time to talk to him.

  “Yes, she is.” Georgiana was at that moment dancing with a handsome young man, laughing up at him unselfconsciously.

  “Over the tantrums, is she?”

  “There have been no tantrums, Henry. Georgiana and I deal very well together.”

  “That I can believe. Everyone knows how good you are with young people. Mr. Darcy must be relieved.”

  “Why relieved?”

  “I collect he was finding her a handful and she would have been an encumbrance to his plans for finding a wife.”

  “Surely you are not referring to Miss Caroline Bingley?”

  “Oh, no, that is a lost cause. He gave her a sharp set-down the other day and now she is telling everyone that he asked her and she turned him down.”

  She laughed. “No doubt, to save her pride.”

  “Oh, no doubt of it.” she smiled. “But hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. She is determined to discredit him. Unfortunately she has dragged your name down along with his.”

  “Mine?”

  “Yes, my dear.”

  “Go on.”

  “I am not sure I should.”

  “If you do not, I will never speak to you again. I must know so that I may deal with it.”

  Henry sighed. “The lady is saying that you are Darcy’s paramour and have been ever since he left Kent, possibly even before that. It is why his betrothed, his cousin, Anne de Bourgh, was so ill.”

  “Surely no one in their right mind would believe that?”

  “Unfortunately the company Miss Bingley keeps has put two and two together and made a dozen of it.”

  “Now you have begun you had better tell me the whole,” she urged when Henry paused to search her face for signs of distress.

  “You remember the talk of a child?”

  “Yes, a rumor,” she said, but in her heart she knew it could be more than a rumor. Georgiana’s drawing, Darcy’s reaction and the painting at Darcy House all pointed to it being the truth. “What has that to do with me?”

  “Why, my dear,” he said, with a mocking smile, “It is yours. Yours and Darcy’s. Word is that, unwilling to face the scandal, you gave it away at birth, and now he is free to marry you, he is desperately searching for it.”

  Her laughter rippled out. “Oh, Henry, what a Banbury Tale to be sure. When am I supposed to have been with child? And why did no one notice it?”

  “A good question, my dear, and one I found myself asking when the whispers reached me, but it seems since you don’t live in Town, no one cares to make sense of the particulars.”

  “Oh, cousin, this is far too outrageous for anyone to believe.”

  “They have been a little short on scandal, this Season,” he said laconically. “And anything that comes along is hungrily lapped up. And you are a prime target.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are who you are, and because the lady is jealous of you. Mr. Darcy is often in your company.”

  “With his sister.”

  “Oh, she says Georgiana is merely the means to the end.”

  “Does Darcy know about this?” It might explain his strange ups and downs of behavior towards her. “Does Georgiana? Oh, I could not bear it if she were to be upset by it. What should I do? Should I speak to Mr. Darcy?”

  “No, my dear, unless you want him to bite your head off. I have a solution to offer. Marry me. That would silence them.”

  “No, it would not, they would say I had duped you to save myself. You are too good a friend to be treated you so shabbily.”

  “I would deem it an honor.”

  “No, Henry, it would not serve and you know it. You are a confirmed bachelor, always have been, and to change your ways now would result in misery for both of us.” She smiled and patted his hand. “But I am very sensible of the great compliment you have paid me.”

  “Oh, well,” he said, with a rueful smile. “I tried.”

  “Now I think we have been talking long enough and the musicians are beginning a country dance. Go and find yourself a partner, Henry, or there will be more rattling tongues.”

  He drifted away, leaving her to stand watching the dancers and wondering at the vivid imaginations some people had. But feeling sad too. She would like more than anything to have a child. Thinking of babies and marriage, she felt very low and ready to weep, but as everyone about her seemed to be enjoying themselves, she forced herself to smile.

  “May I share the joke, Miss Bennet?” said a voice at her elbow.

  She did not need to turn to know who it was, so she did not look at him. It would have been her undoing if she had. “Oh, I do not think you would be amused by it,” she said, but then she felt the man’s hand touch hers and her whole body stiffened. She must not give the tattlers any more food for their gossip. She must get rid of him. “Will you join in the dance?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, I have not thanked you for arranging this evening for Georgiana. It is wonderful to see her so happy.”

  “I have been pleased to do it,” she said. “Now, if you do not mind, I can see Mrs. Stanford beckoning to me. Please excuse me.” And she was gone, leaving him staring after her, a puzzled frown on his face.

  Just when he thought they had gone some way to mending the rift between them and he had decided she deserved an explanation for his abominable behavior, she had turned her back on him. Was she really as uninterested as she appeared to be? No. He was convinced, if he kissed her, that her passion would rise to meet his, that she would not only like being kissed by him but actively desire it.

  But, apart from his wishful thinking, what evidence was there that she even liked him, let alone loved him? When she was not treating him with cool politeness, she was quarreling with him. In the weeks since he had come to London, they had done nothing but fight. Most of it was his fault, he freely admitted, but if she would not let him near enough to explain,
to show her the caring man he really was, how could he put matters right?

  “You do not seem to be advancing your cause, my friend,” Bingley said, coming to stand beside him. “I think you may have met your match.”

  “Oh, I am certain I have. The trouble is, she thinks it is a sparring match.”

  Bingley laughed. “How much longer do you plan to stay in Town?”

  “I do not know. I felt sure we would find the child after Georgiana drew that picture, but no one seems to have seen him since then.”

  “Unless they are lying. The matron at the orphanage was decidedly cagey. What do you say to having another shot at it?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t even be sure it was the boy or that he is even in London.”

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam is. You said so yourself.”

  “But whether he knows where the mother and child are, I can’t be sure,” Darcy sighed. “If only my cousin hadn’t fallen in love with a woman of no fortune, none of us would be in this mess.”

  Bingley shrugged. “You cannot abandon the search now. After all your cousin has done for you. “

  “No.” Darcy smiled thinly. “Georgiana seems to be enjoying herself, it would be a pity to drag her away. I will give her two weeks. We will go home to Pemberley then.”

  “With or without the delightful Miss Bennet?”

  “With or without Elizabeth,” he confirmed.

  “Then we both have two weeks Darcy, me to find Colonel Fitzwilliam’s elusive mistress, you to have your wicked way with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He laughed suddenly. “Twenty pounds says I succeed first.”