The Trouble with Mr. Darcy tds-5

by Sharon Lathan

  “You know we would not wish for gossip, and desire Mrs. Darcy forget it ever happened. Do not fear from us, but what of your staff or others involved?”

  “And what of the legalities?” Stephen Lathrop added his concern to Vernor’s.

  “The magistrate was uninterested, for the most part, and there were few queries,” Richard explained to the new arrivals, saving Darcy from answering. He gave the same summary related to Bingley, finishing with a warm smile and glance toward Lady Simone. “My wife took pity upon the pathetic, nearly starved, and dimwitted girl used by Orman and Wickham as a slave and God only knows what else. She has been sent to the Fotherby estate to be employed as a kitchen scullion. That will be a far better life for her.”

  “Those of my staff who are aware of anything beyond Mrs. Darcy being ill are trustworthy.” A cloud crossed Darcy’s face, his lips setting in a stern line. “All loose ends have been accounted for,” Darcy concluded decisively, the image of Mrs. Smyth’s rented hack wheeling away from Darcy House a perversely happy one.

  Mr. Drury, as if divining Darcy’s train of thought, asked, “Have you interviewed my housekeeper’s sister as yet? I scanned her résumé before referring her to Mr. Daniels. It appears impeccable and I can attest to Miss Inglorian’s competence in managing Locknell Hall. If her sister is half as capable, she will be a fine housekeeper for Darcy House.”

  “Elizabeth and I have an appointment with her tomorrow. Thank you for the recommendation, but I trust you will understand my caution. I intend to explore all candidates thoroughly and not be hasty in hiring. In fact, Mr. Daniels is supposed to deliver a report today on his findings for the three women we are considering, Mrs. Hass one of them.”

  “No, of course I understand your caution, Darcy,” Drury assured him.

  “And speaking of Mr. Daniels, your junior solicitor approaches now,” George inserted.

  “I apologize for being late, gentlemen. I cannot fathom the mystery of it, but apparently one small child refusing to wear shoes can delay an entire household! Then we stopped at Darcy House to deliver a sheath of papers from my father. I think you will be pleased with the applicants, sir. Are you sure Mrs. Darcy is constitutionally restored to manage three interviews tomorrow? It can be exhausting.”

  “My wife thrives on such challenges, Mr. Daniels. The activity will be good for her.”

  “Mrs. Daniels will be happy to hear that. She was concerned, naturally, although it does look as if Mrs. Darcy is recovered.”

  Silence fell among them, each man lost in personal thoughts of the staggering events while watching their wives and children. Darcy again studied his wife, but she was laughing gaily while nibbling on pieces of cold pheasant and pickled beets. He smiled at the odd dietary combination, praying that it portended of a blessed addition to their family. With her woman’s monthly cycles not resumed after Michael’s birth, there was no way to gauge when she may have conceived, or if she had, therefore they were forced to wait for a surer sign than strange cravings or vague nausea.

  “Dare I ask what of Wickham? How have you dealt with that, Darcy?” Mr. Vernor broached in a low voice.

  “Circumspectly, Gerald. We agreed that there is no reason for the family to know what happened. Aside from Mrs. Daniels and Mrs. Bingley, of course.”

  “Will he be buried in Hertfordshire then?”

  Darcy met his lifelong friend’s eyes, understanding the unasked question. “I pray Mr. and Mrs. Wickham are unable to observe events on earth for a host of reasons. If they can, then I must trust they understand why their son will not rest alongside them at Pemberley.”

  The men nodded, none disagreeing with his sentiments, and George laid a consoling hand onto his nephew’s shoulder, his voice matching the proud cast to his face when he spoke. “William has paid the burial expenses and wrote a letter to the Bennets eloquently expressing his belief that the Wickhams would appreciate their son being buried where his wife will some day rest.”

  The surprise at that gesture was clear upon each face, Clifton Drury whistling and verbalizing what they all thought, “That is generous to say the least, Darcy. Under the circumstances, it is a remarkable action on your part.”

  “Generosity had nothing to do with it, I assure you,” Darcy said bluntly. “I was only thinking of my wife and how to minimize her distress. Wickham’s body has been sent to a Meryton mortician who will handle the process with Mr. Bennet’s direction henceforth. I am done with it. They are awaiting Mrs. Wickham’s arrival, who we just heard today from Mrs. Bennet diverted to Bath after Major General and Mrs. Artois’s wedding. A dispatch has been sent. Beyond that, I do not care, to be brutally honest. My family will be leaving for Rosings soon, thus the mourners will not include us.”

  “I am happy to hear your plans for Kent have not changed, since new scenery is a wonderful remedy, although Mrs. Hughes insists the seaside best cures her troubles and boredom. Her prescription is several weeks for complete healing, of course.”

  “Oh have no fear, Mr. Hughes”—George laughed—“Mrs. Darcy highly enjoys her visits with Lady Catherine! I believe the stimulus of confounding witless Mr. Collins and sparring converse with Lady Catherine will invigorate more than gallons of seawater or gales of sea air.”

  Darcy grunted, wincing at their laughter and the vision drawn by Dr. Darcy’s statement. Yet he could not resist a smile—hidden behind a rubbing thumb over his lips—at the undeniable truth of how Elizabeth behaved and the guilty entertainment he reaped whenever dwelling at Rosings. “Elizabeth’s pleasure is derived from visiting with Mrs. Penaflor and Mrs. Collins, strolling the gardens and walkways of the Park, and upon this occasion seeing our new niece,” he stated firmly with an attempted glare at his uncle.

  George shook his head, not the slightest repentant. “We shall see which brings her greater relief. I know I am most delighted by annoying Lady Catherine, but then my faults are blatant and myriad compared to Mrs. Darcy.”

  “Be sure to take careful notes since I shall not be there to bask in the fun,” Richard requested.

  George sketched a check mark in the air, the two exchanging impish grins. Darcy broke into the laughter coming from his friends, voice serious, “You should come with us, Cousin, and not to harass our aunt but to visit Anne and Raul. I doubt they will make the trip to Town this season so soon after Margaret’s birth. The boys would enjoy Rosings Park and the clean air would benefit young Oliver.”

  “We had considered it. However, now we think waiting until later in the summer might be best. Rigorous travel is inadvisable at the moment.”

  “Is Lord Fotherby’s health again poor, Colonel? I thought his new treatment regime was an improvement.”

  “The medicines I and Dr. Angless are using are helping, Mr. Lathrop, but not a cure, sadly. Nevertheless, Lord Fotherby is fit enough to travel I would imagine. Somehow I do not think it is his constitution Colonel Fitzwilliam is concerned about.”

  Richard flushed but could not completely hide the light in his eyes even as he attempted to glare at a smirking George. “Just once I wish you were not so skilled as a diagnostician, Doctor.”

  Vernor and Hughes puzzled the pieces first, Gerald whistling while Albert extended a hand that Richard automatically shook. “Congratulations, my friend! Well done! Babies and more babies!”

  “No public announcements as yet, gentlemen. I am leaving that honor up to Mrs. Fitzwilliam when she decides the time is appropriate. I dare you to cross my wife on that count, Dr. Darcy!”

  George pressed a finger to his clamped lips, the other men subduing their congratulations to happy smiles and minute gestures.

  “In lieu of my cousin gaining the spotlight with his public announcement, how about I offer one of my own.” All eyes looked to Darcy, who was broadly smiling but gazing over their shoulders toward the picnic area. He indicated the young man approaching with an elderly, stately woman on his arm, Lord and Lady Matlock flanking, and said in a voice bubbling with pride, “Come. Let us jo
in the ladies before they consume all the food. I am parched and famished, plus I wish to proclaim our recent great fortune to the entire assembly.”

  He stepped away from their cluster, Richard muttering in mock disgust, “Oh God help us, he is going to make a speech. So much for slaking our thirst and hunger.”

  “Fear not, Colonel. There is plenty for all, and while everyone is distracted over William’s announcement, we can dive in unnoticed and steal the best morsels. Come! No slight intended, but feminine company is preferable to a group of prosy old men!” And with a swirl of silk around limber, bony legs, Dr. Darcy flounced across the lawn toward the reclining women.

  “Prosy?” Gerald Vernor asked.

  “Old?” Albert Hughes commented drolly. “Has he forgotten who the eldest of this group is?”

  “This is my uncle we are talking about here,” Darcy said with a chuckle. “Do chronological years really enter into the equation?”

  There was no need to answer the redundant question, so they merely shook their heads and followed the doctor’s mincing steps—in a suitable strolling gait—until reaching the canvas sunshade where the ladies and children reposed.

  “Lady Warrow”—Darcy bowed deeply toward his great-aunt—“I am pleased you could join us.”

  “I adore dining in the out-of-doors, Mr. Darcy. It is a delightful pastime as long as not undertaken too early in the day, mind you. I rarely rise before nine o’clock and it does take this old body far longer to reach a state proper for public viewing than it once did.” She patted the perfectly coiffed silver curls bouncing youthfully at the nape of her neck, the other palm smoothing the fashionable French Empire gown of white lawn that draped her slim body.

  “My Lady, you surely jest! Your beauty shines as brightly as ever and you appear no older than I recall from my youth.”

  The marchioness fluttered her fan as daintily and coquettishly as a maiden, but her eyes sparkled with a sultry gleam present in few mature ladies. “Dr. Darcy,” she drawled, “where you learned to charm and flirt is a story I long to hear, since I know you did not obtain the skill from my brother, God rest his soul.”

  George extended his arm, Lady Warrow leaving Mr. Butler’s side to take the offered support from her nephew, winking as he murmured in a secretive tone, “Indeed it is a dazzling tale, Aunt, but unlikely fit for fragile ears.”

  “Thankfully my ears have not been remotely fragile since I was sixteen, so I shall look forward to the conversation. For now, however, we must content ourselves with tales of young, innocent love. I assume you wish to inform the group of our mutual happiness, Mr. Darcy, but you better hurry or I shall blurt it out myself.”

  Darcy bowed, grin still broad as he extended his hand to Georgiana. She had managed to remain sitting on the blanket next to Lizzy and not bolt upwards the second Sebastian entered her vision through the greatest of willpower. Now it was as if she was released from a restraining tether and she did jump up, practically hopping across the short distance to take her brother’s hand. At this point there were few doubts in anyone’s mind as to what the news was since Sebastian and Georgiana were staring at each other in utter adoration.

  “My friends and family members, it is my great joy to announce that Mr. Sebastian Butler has won the heart of my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy. That his heart has equally been wrest away by Miss Darcy has been affirmed via several sources, most emphatically by the wrester. Thus, it was fairly easy to grant Mr. Butler the honor and privilege of her hand in matrimony when he sought my permission.”

  He took their hands and linked them together within his own, continuing in the same resonant timbre, “Join Mrs. Darcy and I in congratulating the betrothed couple!”

  From there on it became noisy, laughter and overlapping conversations ruling long into the afternoon. Richard congratulated Darcy on announcing in a concise manner, to which Darcy responded with words that shall not be repeated here. Georgiana and Mr. Butler somehow managed to stay within two feet of each other all afternoon, even when playing with the children. Lady Simone broke her self-imposed plan to delay voicing her hopes by first whispering her suspicions to select ladies, and then two or three others, and before long the whole group knew, thus making it unnecessary for the Fitzwilliams to remain mum. The gentlemen expressed unknowing surprise at the news, Simone too busy receiving congratulations to notice those whose acting skills were inadequate. Richard proved to be as long-winded and emotional at speeches as Darcy ever was, a fact Darcy jumped on with taunting glee!

  Harry eventually broke down and removed his stockings, ending up getting wetter and muddier than anyone else. In fact, the only youth who maintained his poise was Oliver, the nearly eighteen-year-old resisting the urge to act other than an Earl should without too much difficulty. Michael’s encounter with the water, while held by Lizzy, elicited squeals of delight but the flapping ducks brought lusty yells not easily quenched. Fiona Lathrop fearlessly joined in with the boys, earning instant respect to be remembered for years to come.

  The ducks decided braving the screeching children was worth the treats delivered, but apparently the frogs and lizards disagreed, since not a one was discovered no matter how exhaustive the searching. Dozens of bulrushes were broken during the amphibian/reptile quest and many more were stripped for the pleasure of floating seeds, but luckily the groves were plentiful so the visible effect was negligible.

  Kites were strung but the breeze never grew brisk enough to gain altitude. Lawn games were more successful thanks to the level turf. The slopes and valleys located nearby served well for tag and tumbling. Butterflies, moths, and assorted flying insects drifted about, much to the delight of Stuart Vernor and Andrew Fitzherbert, who were fascinated by bugs and captured several interesting specimens for their collections. Julia Sitwell set up her easel, as did her eldest son, Rory, the two capturing the rippling waters of the Serpentine in watercolors with impressive skill. Sebastian withdrew his Tromlitz flute and Georgiana her Celtic lap harp, the expert musicians dazzling everyone with a variety of tunes.

  The adults were tireless in their enjoyment of the sunny weather, fine food, and companionship, but the younger children succumbed to extensive play and full bellies. Lugging inert bodies back to the waiting carriages proved harder than carting the loaded baskets down had. Those, at least, were now nearly empty and servants arrived to assist with the larger items. Nevertheless, it was late in the afternoon before they were fully unloaded at Darcy House and the Darcy boys were tucked into their respective beds for naps.

  Darcy fell onto the settee before the unlit fireplace in his and Elizabeth’s bedchamber with a loud sigh. He was waiting, rather impatiently, for his wife to emerge from her dressing room. The vague references to freshening up and getting comfortable, whispered in a sultry drawl, did not induce relaxation, but instead instigated certain bodily reactions of a heightening nature.

  Elizabeth dearly enjoyed surprising her husband. Of course explicit visual or tactile inducements were unnecessary, but he knew she would not see it that way. Therefore, his mind was pleasantly wandering. Would she wear the over-sized shirt of his that still drove him insane? Would she appear deliciously naked? Perhaps wearing one of the devilish costumes that her modiste designed? Would her hair be yet pinned up so he could thrill in releasing each lustrous tress? Or down in a cloud of fluid waves shrouding her elfin face and delicate shoulders? Would she splash her alabaster skin with her signature essence of lavender or the special musky jasmine that she wore as a treat just for him?

  The musings meandered as he removed his shoes and jacket. Again, it truly did not matter; anything she chose was guaranteed to provoke him into a raging inferno of wanton desire. Merely the thought of her was affecting him and his next sigh was more of a moan as blood rushed in a hot surge through his vessels.

  He reached a hand to loosen the suddenly constricting cravat just as the door opened. His breathing hitched and hand halted halfway toward his throat, the brief paralysis broken with a cle
ansing release of air as his eyes swept over the woman who utterly owned his soul. A brilliant smile illuminated his face as he drank in the vision of Lizzy gliding across the short distance.

  Her hair was down, tumbling chocolate curls framing her cheeks and falling to her waist in a lush veil. She had chosen to remain in the creamy tan gown with copper trim that she had worn that day, only without any undergarments thus allowing the sheer muslin to cling to her flesh and offer tantalizing hints of the perfection underneath. The fact that a portion of his brain had been disrobing her from this particular dress all day made her choice to keep it on all the more stimulating.

  He extended one arm, palm upward, murmuring gutturally, “Ah, Lizzy. What are you trying to do to me?”

  She smiled in return, taking the offered hand and lacing her fingers between his, but moved around the narrow settee until behind him. She leaned down, kissing each fingertip ensnared amid her fingers, only then answering his question with a hot whisper against his right ear. “I think you know precisely what I am trying to do. And that I am succeeding admirably.”

  He moaned, dropping his head onto the back of the sofa and gazing into her eyes. “You were succeeding before you entered the room, my lover. Now you are killing me!”

  “You can handle the stress, my virile husband.” She moved her hands to his shoulders, kneading through the fabric of his waistcoat.

  “That does feel wonderful, but I have to say that my shoulders are not the prime area of my body screaming for your touch.”

  Smiling as she lowered her mouth to his, her kiss was every bit as penetrating upside down as it was straight on. Darcy cupped her face in his large, warm palms, preventing her straying away from his lips. Nimbly she unbuttoned the waistcoat and top part of his shirt, fingertips grazing over the hairs and skin revealed in the gap before attending to the knots of his neckcloth.