Mr. Darcy's Scandal

by Cynthia Porter

  Darcy smiled ruefully. “If it only meant having my wicked way and being done with it, I would take your wager, my friend, but unfortunately there is more to it than that.”

  “Oh, my God, I do believe you are serious.”

  “Deadly serious.”

  “Then I suggest you lay all before her and hope for the best.”

  “I intend to, when she condescends to listen to me, but I cannot go blundering in without being sure—”

  “Oh, give me patience!” his friend exclaimed. “I took you for a gambler—how wrong I was.” And with that, he sauntered off to find himself a glass of something stronger than the innocuous cordial Elizabeth had provided.

  Darcy continued to watch the company, apparently with no other intent than to enjoy his sister’s happiness, but his eyes were as often on Elizabeth as on Georgiana. She was flitting from guest to guest, rejuvenating a flagging conversation here, bringing two people together there, dragging unwilling elders into joining the dancing and making sure everyone had refreshments. But whenever she looked in his direction she turned away quickly and would not meet his eye. He would have left, but for Georgiana.

  It was gone midnight when the party broke up and everyone took their leave and there was no opportunity, in the flurry of departures at the door, to do more than thank her and take his sister home. Elizabeth Bennet was the most exasperating woman he had ever encountered. One minute she was laughing with him, as easy with him as he could have wished, the next she was treating him with cool disdain. What had happened in those few minutes this evening to make so swift a change?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Elizabeth saw everyone off the premises, instructed the butler to lock up and went up to her room, where her lady’s maid, Maggie, waited to help her undress. A few minutes later she was in bed and the maid had gone. She blew out the candle and settled down to sleep, but her mind was still too active for that.

  She may have laughed when Henry told her the gossip, but it was no laughing matter. She was torn between telling Darcy what she had heard and letting him find out for himself. He would be furious, she knew. Would he simply dismiss it as nonsense, tell her that under the circumstances he must sever all connection with her and take his sister home to Derbyshire. He had almost done so last week and that was over something paltry compared to this.

  Would he even think she had encouraged the rumors? But he did not know she knew about that child, did he? Had Mrs. Gardiner seen the little boy again? Would finding him solve anything? At least, if she could find the mother it might disprove the theory that the child was hers. Tomorrow, she would do something about it.

  When Elizabeth arrived in Cheapside the next morning, she was told by the janitor that everyone had gone to the new house to help make it ready for occupation and so she instructed her driver take her there, before sending him back to the Gardiners’ house, telling him she would find a cab to take her home when she was ready.

  There was certainly a great deal of work to be done on the house, most of it scrubbing. There were also doors and windows to mend, a few slates to replace on the roof and chimneys to sweep, but it was a sound building. There were two large rooms downstairs beside a kitchen and upstairs several small bedrooms. These had been knocked into two large dormitories. The rooms on the second story were being furnished for Mrs. Gardiner and a small staff of paid helpers.

  Everyone, even the children, worked with a will and Elizabeth, coming upon all this industry, happily rolled up her sleeves and took a bucket of water to help scrub the floors in the bedrooms. There would be time to ask questions about the child later, at the end of the day.

  She had just finished and was taking the bucket of dirty water and the mop downstairs when she came face to face with Darcy, in immaculate snuff-colored frock-coat and matching inexpressibles, who had just been admitted through the front door. She stopped halfway down the stairs, her mouth open in surprise, followed by annoyance. “What are you doing here?”

  He looked up and smiled at the sight of her. She was dressed in a brown cotton dress which she must have borrowed from one of her maids by the look of it, and over that a huge apron which had once been white but was now as grubby as the rest of her. Her arms, below the rolled-up sleeves, were streaked with dirty water and she had obviously brushed her hair out of her eyes with wet hands for her face too was streaked and the wayward hair was tucked behind her ears.

  If he had not loved her before, he would have fallen in love with that apparition and wished he had his sister’s talent for drawing, for he would love to have had that image to keep for all time. He could not bow to her, it did not seem appropriate; instead he smiled. “Hard at work, Miss Elizabeth?”

  She pulled herself together and finished descending the stairs, where she stood and faced him coolly, aware that Mrs. Gardiner, who had admitted him, was staring from one to the other. “As you see. There is much to be done and most of it with voluntary labor.”

  He laughed, took off his coat and hung it casually on the newel post of the staircase, then began rolling up the pristine sleeves of his shirt. “Then lead me to it.”

  He was going to spoil it for her, she knew it. If she had dared to, she would have physically bundled him out of the door and told him not to make fun of her. “You can’t—”

  “Why not?” He turned and smiled at Mrs. Gardiner. “You could do with an extra pair of hands, could you not?”

  “Indeed, yes, sir, but you have already been more help than we can ever thank you for.” If it had been Darcy who had shown her the sketch and questioned her, Mrs. Gardiner obviously did not recognize him now.

  “Nonsense!” he said briskly. “We are wasting time.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir, you will have your reward in heaven, for it is not in our power to reward you here, except with gratitude.” The good lady appeared flustered. “Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, is the gentleman who has bought the house for us.”

  Elizabeth had already deduced that much, so she was able to answer calmly, “Then we are in Mr. Darcy’s debt. How do you do, sir?”

  He gave her a broad, half-mocking smile and offered her his hand. “Very well, ma’am. And you?”

  For a second, she stared at the hand as if afraid to grasp it, but pulling herself together, took it and felt the warmth flow from him to her and knew she would never be able to get the better of him, although that did not prevent her from trying. “I am well, sir,” she said. “Now, what would you like to do? There is scrubbing or cleaning windows. Or perhaps mending doors is more in your line of work. Some of them fit very ill.”

  “Mending doors, I think,” he said, solemnly.

  “I will leave you to it,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “I am needed in the kitchen.” And with that she disappeared down the hall into the back regions of the house.

  “Are you trying to make fun of me?” Elizabeth hissed as soon as she had gone.

  “Not at all. I am full of admiration.”

  “You have been very generous, Mr. Darcy…”

  He smiled.

  Her own lips twitched. “You have been more than generous in buying this house, that does not mean you need to work in it…”

  “No, but it is easy to be generous with money when you have a great deal of it. Time is another matter.”

  “And your time is valuable.”

  “As yours is, so do not let us waste any more of it. Show me these broken doors and what tools you have.”

  It was surprising how quickly he buckled down to work and how skilled he was. He seemed to be able to turn his hand to anything in the carpentry line, and by the middle of the afternoon, the doors all fitted, two new window frames had been installed, a broken tread on the stairs had been mended and he had even clambered on the roof and replaced the broken tiles, making Elizabeth’s heart jump into her mouth.

  And all the time he kept up a flow of cheerful conversation, not only with her when he passed her, also hard at work, but with the children. He had a fund of funny stories and they
soon warmed to him and were vying with each other to fetch and carry for him.

  Elizabeth could not understand it. He was so warm and patient with them—why could he not be like that with Georgiana? If he was prepared to give up time to being with these orphans, why did he begrudge his sister his time? Was it anything to do with that mystery child? Did he love the little bastard more? It was an unworthy thought and she put it from her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was the middle of the afternoon when he packed away the tools and sent one of the children to the stables round the corner to tell the ostler to bring his carriage to the door. “May I offer you a ride home, Elizabeth?” he asked, reaching for his coat.

  She knew he would not allow her to take a cab when he had a conveyance at hand, nor would he agree to let her go back home alone. Besides, she had been longer from home than she had intended when setting out and she was never one to subject her servants to unnecessary inconvenience, so, deciding the search for the boy and his mother must wait, she accepted graciously.

  By the time she had washed her hands, taken off the apron and crammed her hair under an unbecoming bonnet, the carriage was at the door.

  “I wonder that you should want to be seen with such a dishclout,” she said as they bowled away.

  “When the dishclout is as lovely as you are and as warm and caring as I have discovered you to be, then I am proud to have you by my side.”

  He glanced down at her hands as he spoke. It was a warm day and she wore no gloves; her hands were wrinkled and the nails were discolored and broken. “How will you explain that?”

  “Oh, a good soak and a trim and you will hardly notice. And, in Society, I wear gloves most of the time.”

  “I will keep your secret, Miss Bennet, if you will keep mine.”

  Was he about to tell her the truth? Did she really want to know?

  “You mean to go again, then?”

  “Indeed, I do. I was never so happy as I was this morning.”

  “Oh. But what I cannot understand is why you can be so easy with the children at the orphanage, when you are so stiff with your sister.”

  “Precisely because she is my sister. I want everything for her, I want her to shine, to make a happy marriage. I want to be a good brother and am terrified of failing. I suppose with those children back there, there is no such constraint.”

  “Why should you fail?”

  “It is difficult to explain.” He turned and smiled at her. “Do you really want to hear this? It is ancient history now.”

  “But history or not, it seems to have a bearing on what is happening in your life now and the sooner you acknowledge that, the sooner you will overcome it.”

  “Wise girl. Why have you been able to direct your life in the way you wanted it, when I have been tossed about on the wind, doing what everyone expected of me and feeling so unfulfilled?”

  “Have you?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, from the day I was born. First I had to behave at all times with studious politeness to my equals and to look after those beneath me without once letting them forget they were beneath me. I may have my fun, but discreetly, and if I found myself in a coil, why then, I was to buy my way out of it. And above everything I was to make the right marriage. It was forced into me from the time I was old enough to take an interest in the fair sex…” He chuckled. “And that was at an early age, I can tell you.”

  “That I can readily believe.” She smiled a little, guessing what was coming, but determined to accept it calmly. It was all she had left, her cool exterior. “Mr. Darcy,” she said softly. “What has this to do with you being a good brother?”

  “Everything…”

  “Georgiana does not hate you.”

  “No? She is afraid of me, you said so yourself. And that is the worst cut of all because I was terrified of my father. He was often cruel and any infringement of his rules would end in a beating. There was nothing out of the ordinary in that, I suppose, but he seemed to enjoy it. I have never chastised Georgiana and yet you still say she is afraid of me.”

  “Because she does not know you. She has never seen your soft side. Mr. Darcy, she is a lovely girl, but she needs to know you love her and will support her whatever she does.”

  “It is easy for you to say.”

  “No, it is not easy.”

  He laughed a little shakily. He had not meant to tell her so much, to reveal his own insecurity like that. “And now you have Georgiana eating out of your hand.”

  “Oh, I would not go so far as to say that. We have simply reached an understanding.”

  “And may we, too, come to an understanding, my dear?”

  They were drawing up at her door and she prepared to alight. The little word of endearment had almost undone her, but she forced herself to speak lightly. “Why, we understand each other perfectly, Mr. Darcy,” she said.

  He jumped down, opened the door and held out a hand to help her alight. “If that is so, why are we now reverting to being so formal?”

  “Because, Mr. Darcy,” she said, with a smile and a twinkling eye, “we are back in our world.”

  “Then I hope to see you at the masquerade next Wednesday evening.”

  “How shall I know you?” she asked, mischievously. “Will you be the aristocrat or the vagabond?”

  He laughed. “Wait and see.” And with that he flicked the reins and was gone.

  She went slowly indoors, the smile fading from her lips. Knowing he was vulnerable made her love him more than ever. But was it enough?

  She was good to others and was rewarded by their happiness and she had a great many friends. And if she could count Darcy as one of those, she should be content.

  It was only when she reached her bedroom and sank on to her bed with exhaustion, she realized he had said not a word about the child. He had confided some things to her, but by no means all. There were still things he did not trust her to know.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “A queen?” Maggie suggested. “Queen Elizabeth, perhaps? Or one of those Greek goddesses. I don’t recall their names.”

  “No, Maggie, everyone does those. I want something different.”

  Elizabeth was trying to decide on her costume for the ball. Once decided, she and Maggie were going shopping for the materials and whatever accessories were required.

  “An animal, then?” Maggie was not one easily discouraged. “I believe very realistic costumes can be bought ready made.”

  “So they may be, but I should be stifled in fur.” She laughed suddenly. “It would not serve. Mr. Darcy’s sense of humor can be precarious at times. He will think I mean to ridicule him.”

  It was as if mentioning Darcy had summoned him to her, for she had hardly uttered the words, than the butler came to tell her Darcy was downstairs and wished to speak to her. “I have conducted him to the drawing room to await your pleasure, Miss Bennet,” he said, then added meaningfully, “I think you should know, Miss Bennet, he is up in the boughs about something.”

  “When is he not?” Elizabeth murmured under her breath. And then aloud, “Tell him I will be down directly, please.”

  Elizabeth was glad the butler had forewarned her; the sight of Darcy’s thunderous looks was almost enough to unnerve her. She had taken five minutes to smooth her dress and tidy her hair before going downstairs but it was evidently not long enough to calm him.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said, “is something wrong? It is not Georgiana, is it?”

  “No, what the devil should be wrong with Georgiana? I am come on another matter.”

  “Oh.” He had heard the rumors. Now the sparks would fly. “Would you like some refreshment before you tell me? Tea? Madeira? Something stronger?”

  “Nothing, thank you.”

  “Then please be seated.”

  He did not immediately obey, but paced over to the window and then back again, before taking up a position facing her. “Mr. Bingley absented himself from a family obligation and finished in a gamb
ling hell that even I would hesitate to enter…”

  “I am sorry for that, indeed I am, but what has that to do with me?”

  “It was your cousin who took him there.”

  “Oh, no, I am sure he would not.”

  “Bingley is not a liar, ma’am. He says it was your cousin and I believe him.”

  “I am very sorry if that is the case,” she said. “But I am sure it was only a prank. Fledglings do like to try their wings.”

  “An apt metaphor, Miss Bennet. The rake you call a cousin duped this fledgling into attempting to soar so high, he had his wings burnt and is left without a feather to fly with.”

  She could not help laughing, which was the worst thing she could have done. “An exaggeration, I am sure.”

  “Is two thousand an exaggeration?”

  She gasped and the laugh left her. “As much as that? But surely Mr. Bingley has the money to pay the debt?”

  “Maybe, but it is a debt of honor and must be paid…”

  “Oh. You wish me to reimburse you? Is that why you have come?”

  “No, Miss Bennet, it is not. The money was not owed to your cousin, but to his associates.” He paused, wondering just why he had come. Unable to bear Bingley’s embarrassment, he had stormed out of the house to call on Henry, intending he knew not what. But on being told the young man was not at home, he had wondered if he might be with Elizabeth.

  The butler had told him Henry was not here and he should have retreated—instead he had insisted on seeing Elizabeth. To what purpose? Perhaps to ask her advice, perhaps to commiserate, perhaps because he simply needed to see her that they might console each other, none of which he could bring himself to tell her because she thought it was a joke, and even in her mirth, offered to reimburse his friend. Bingley could buy up her assets a dozen times over and still hardly notice the difference. She knew that and was mocking him.

  “My purpose in coming here,” he said stiffly, “was to appraise you of your cousin’s reprehensible behavior and to inform you that my sister will not be coming here again. And for your own good, I advise you to distance yourself from him before he ruins you. Good day, Miss Bennet.” And before she could utter any sort of response, he had left the room.