“Have your leave, Truman. I am dressed now for dinner and will not need you again until before bed.”
Truman nodded and left his friend. Instead of going below stairs, he returned to his shared chamber with the earl’s valet. The other servants were not hateful, but he could tell that they disliked how friendly Richard treated him. He never had to spend hours fussing over the clothes and instead had more time for leisure than the others. He supposed it would be wiser to attempt to learn more about the station of valet and show interest in becoming a butler, but Truman was far from deciding to remain in household service. There was something more dignified in serving as batman on the battlefield than in being a servant in a house.
But then, that was Truman’s pride in his ancestors. His grandfather had been a slave purchased by an English officer in fifty-eight and then brought to England and freed. He stayed on as valet and later butler. Truman’s father was his only son and upon the elder’s death, the younger Mr. Truman had enough money to open a shop. His father struck a friendship with a manufacturer near Leeds. They became so close that the man sent Jacob to school at Eton with his son. In hindsight, it was not the great gift Mr. Bingley likely thought it was. Truman could now read and write Greek and also kill a man but could hardly maintain ledgers. Taking over his father’s store seemed impossible. The prejudice he faced in the army, especially if Richard retired, was not only insupportable but dangerous. Truman felt like a pilgrim with no home.
Of course, home did not forget him. Going to the small desk in the room, he pulled out his sister’s latest letter.
Dear Jacob,
We were so happy to learn you have returned unscathed to England. I am sure I do not have to remind you that your contract is almost up. Father and I have counted the years, then months, and now days eagerly. You have proved your duty to your country, now prove your duty to your family and return to Leeds. Father is ready to hand the store to you. Do not tell me you are still bitter over C’s treatment. Were not eighteen years of happy memories enough to wipe out the bad ones?
My sister Sally begged to be remembered to you. You will not keep her waiting longer, will you? You know how all the area expects the match.
Now, I will scold no more. Your niece now knows her entire alphabet and wishes to meet her uncle at last.
Write when we can expect to see you and pray, let it be for more than a week.
Your sister,
Letitia Johnson
Truman shook his head. He remained uncertain of the future, but life in Leeds and married to his sister’s sister-in-law was surely not it. It was true his family expected him to take over the shop. They and all of the coloured community in Leeds thought he would, and it was no secret that Sally Johnson was sweet on him when he left for the army. The truth was, Caroline would not have been the only one to face the displeasure of one’s family had they married. The difference was Truman believed his family would support his happiness no matter what, and when it came down to it, he never felt tied down by expectations. He defied convention his whole life. All he wanted was to find his own way with the freedom he saw others enjoy. It was never easy, even for one as privileged as Richard—son of an earl—but it was far more possible.
In his drawer, he kept other letters from family and friends, including, Letitia’s poetry she had sent him over the years. He also kept a sketch he had made of Caroline Bingley. Her blonde hair and blue eyes could not have been more different than his dark ones, but it was not that which held her beauty. It was the look of wonder she had in her eyes. Fresh and innocent. That was how he preferred to remember her. Not as sad and wise as at their last interaction when she broke their engagement. He wondered what those eyes would look like now. Had the years been generous to her? Had she married? And did that unnamed man, that Truman could not help but hate, love her as much as he still loved her?
Shaking his head, he put aside the sketch and withdrew a map. In his youth, he had been enamoured with the New World. He no longer looked at it with a young man’s naiveté, but with an older man’s cautious vision of potential. England held no draw for him, and the Continent would be impossible to travel to, for some time. Let other men battle over the same field and shed more blood. If he would shed blood in service to a country again, he desired it to be for one that could see past the colour of his skin. Tomorrow, he would see an old friend about purchasing fare to Upper Canada.
*****
The day after meeting the Miss Bennets, Arlington joined the others as they called on Longbourn. Caroline outdid herself again. Her taste in London fashion could not hold a candle to what Meryton had to offer. Still, he had a mission for Darcy’s sake. He approached Miss Elizabeth, feeling Caroline stare daggers at his back. At least his presence awed Mrs. Bennet, who he had heard much of, into silence.
“You must have been out walking, Miss Elizabeth.” The small twig in her hair charmed him. Darcy certainly chose well.
“I was. I am very fond of walks.”
“My cousins and I would be pleased to walk with you sometime, I am sure.”
“Yes, that sounds most pleasant.”
Miss Elizabeth had little else to say, and Arlington found it curious. She seemed less reserved at Netherfield, but he soon understood the cause for anxiety.
“I am surprised to hear that you walk much, my lord,” Mrs. Bennet loudly addressed him. “You must have many fine carriages and horses.”
Beside him, Elizabeth stiffened slightly. Ah, he well understood being embarrassed by family. He hoped she could see that he was not offended.
Mrs. Bennet prattled on, hoping to hear confirmation of his London address or income. It was a dance he knew well. He wondered what her reaction would be if she knew the majority of his income came from factories in Lancashire.
“What did you say was the address of your house? I believe I have read that the Earl resides in Park Lane.”
The corners of his lips twitched. “I did not say, but I have rooms on Piccadilly Street.”
“Oh, it must be in The Albany, then. Well, they say those rooms are comfortable, but you must admit a real house with a sweet, lively wife to keep it up for you would be infinitely preferable.” Mrs. Bennet glanced at her youngest daughter. She looked the same age as Georgiana; a child!
Arlington gritted his teeth as Darcy chose that moment to stand and exchange seats with him as had previously been planned. On and on Mrs. Bennet droned with platitudes. Darcy must be in love to consider Mrs. Bennet as a mother in law when he already had one relative, their Aunt Catherine, that pontificated in such a fashion. The youngest daughter giggled. Again. Had he really thought he preferred country ladies? Not one of them had the decorum of well…Miss Bingley. Even Miss Elizabeth seemed to be arguing with Darcy over something. Miss Bennet was blushing and silent—not particularly useful at the moment. Of course, she likely could only think of Bingley speaking with her father about a requested courtship.
When Arlington believed he could bear it no longer, Mr. Bennet and Bingley entered the room. At the news of Mr. Bennet’s approval of Bingley’s courtship—when everyone knew it ought to have been a marriage proposal—the Bennet ladies erupted. They sounded like five loud geese honking at once. Wondering if he could die from too much noise, Miss Bingley pushed forward and resolutely, if coldly, drew the visit to a close. Arlington was the first out the door.
God help him. Darcy better appreciate his sacrifices on this rural expedition. To think he had to return tomorrow so Darcy might court Miss Elizabeth on a walk was nearly more than his amiable self could handle. If he ever considered the idea of marriage again, he would cut straight to the point. No one would dare to refuse him, and it would be better to make up his mind and live with regret than suffer weeks of indecision as plagued Darcy.
Arlington, Darcy, and Bingley arrived at Netherfield before the ladies and Hurst.
“Well done, Bingley. I congratulate you,” Darcy said.
“Better to wish him luck,” Arlington
muttered.
“Mrs. Bennet is not so bad as that,” Bingley said.
“Do not forget the younger girls,” he returned.
“Young girls eventually grow up,” a note of sadness lingered in Darcy’s voice.
“If Georgiana were ever as silly as the young Miss Bennets, you would have every right to lock her up for the rest of her life.”
Bingley frowned. “Those are my future sisters you are speaking of.”
“Forgive me. I am sorry I am poor company.”
“He has been out of his environment for too long,” Darcy said with a conciliatory clap on his shoulder. “It is well you do not visit Matlock too often. Yorkshire may as well be an unchartered frontier.”
The words were said without criticism, for once, but Arlington felt them all the same. One day, Matlock would be his and he had spent barely more than a few weeks there in over a decade. He relished his role as a Member of Parliament and the freedom of his own investments, but he knew little of how to be a landlord. Not that his father had shirked his duties in teaching. Arlington simply resented the role as heir.
The carriage finally arrived, and Darcy’s notice was drawn to his sister. Bingley had another idea.
“I will begin dressing for dinner,” he reached the top of the stairs just as Miss Bingley and the Hursts walked in. The latter made their way to the stairs while Miss Bingley called for the housekeeper to go over a last minute menu change.
Realizing they were alone in the hall, Arlington shared what had been on his mind for several minutes. “I believe we have you to thank for our timely rescue.”
Caroline shrugged her shoulders. “We are not so different. You generally accomplish such manoeuvres through charm, and I daresay it would have worked had not Mrs. Bennet been so excited over Charles’ announcement. The Bennets, you will find, are a proud lot. Treating them coldly and inferior gains a bigger reaction than anything else.”
“Is that so?”
“If Elizabeth Bennet knew half of what Mr. Darcy said about her and her family instead of overhearing only his remarks at their first ball, she would likely never forgive him.”
“You think she is so stubborn?”
“They are practically perfect for each other in that way.”
“And what did he say? Called her mother an over-rouged pigeon?”
Miss Bingley laughed. “Worse!”
“Do tell!”
“Charles was dancing with Jane and saw Darcy standing out, as usual. He offered to find Darcy a partner, but he refused.”
“You know all of this?”
“The families of the area talk and their servants hear. My maid is quite faithful, of course.”
Of course. Her maid reported interesting gossip. He nodded his head for her to continue.
“Charles would not take no for an answer and continued to press. Then he pointed out Eliza. Now, guess what he said.”
“Oh, I am sure it could not be gentlemanly and that he was awestruck by her beauty,” Arlington drawled. Caroline’s eyes twinkled with mischief that they often lacked. The same cunning behaviour that repulsed in Lydia Bennet appealed coming from a sensual lady of five and twenty.
“Never! He said she was tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt him to dance, and he was in no mood to give consequence to ladies slighted by other men.”
Arlington affected incredulity. Sadly, such behaviour was standard in London—though generally out of earshot of the recipient—undoubtedly, Meryton was scandalised by Darcy’s words. All the more as the Bennets were reputed beauties of the county. “You, of course, were unavailable?”
“Naturally,” she sniffed. “There was a shortage of partners, but other ladies—the youngest Miss Bennets, for example—did not have to sit out. Eliza is pretty enough to have partners aplenty if only she would make herself more agreeable.”
The housekeeper finally appeared. “I apologise profusely, Miss Bingley.”
“Yes. Well, do excuse us, my lord,” Caroline said to him and Arlington bowed before ascending the stairs. As he dressed for the evening, he rather thought Caroline had determined exactly what drew Darcy to Elizabeth Bennet. Neither one of them performed to society’s dictates. They could charm and please only when they decided it worth their while. On the other hand, he charmed and pleased everyone while Caroline charmed no one. Was it possible opposites did attract?
Chapter Five
Richard walked into the hospital and greeted the staff. He had been home from the Continent for several weeks now and was blessed that his stay in the hospital was so short. He was even more blessed that his family was as healthy and whole as when he had left. Many of the men in the hospital had no family to return to. While they were fighting on the Continent, disease or even hunger had ravaged those left behind. It was not the sort of image Parliament or the ton enjoyed thinking about. The men from well-to-do families got all the glory while the men who could barely scrape a living did all the fighting.
While recovering in this hospital, a lieutenant in the bed next to Richard had slipped into a melancholy no doctor could treat. The man had just received notice that his wife and child had died of fever. The image of returning home to them no doubt filled had his mind during battle and gave him the strength to fight the loss of a limb. There had been no evidence of infection, at first. He was encouraged to move around on crutches but after learning of his wife and child’s demise he refused to leave his bed. The lack of activity reduced his blood flow, and the amputated limb became gangrenous. The infection spread and in the end, the soldier met the same fate as his departed family.
For all that Richard hated Lucy Thrale and how she treated him, he was thankful he had never known the horror of such a loss. He had seen how his brother mourned his betrothed for nigh on a decade. As Richard waited in the doctor’s private office for an exam, his mind turned toward Belinda. How would her captain have mourned losing her? And how unjust it was that the man would have staked a claim on her heart when he knew the perils of war? For himself, Richard would never dare to leave her once he won her heart. Duty to the country be hanged, a man could not be in love and act so selfishly.
Richard shook his head. Why was he considering love? Let alone adding Lady Belinda in the same sentence. No matter her kiss, she would not have him. He crossed his legs, attempting to cover his growing discomfort at the remembrance of her sweet and exploratory kiss. Since joining the army, Richard had experienced no shortage of willing bedmates but never had a kiss affected him so much.
The doctor came in, interrupting Richard’s thoughts. After he had completed the examination, he returned to his desk and made notes. “It is remarkably healed. For your sake, I am sorry. I cannot defer your recommendation for continued action.”
Richard nodded his head. He had been prepared for such news. It is why he scheduled this last visit with the physician before he met with Gordon. There were still some weeks left on his contract. The Regiment was to be quartered in England for the winter, but there was always the possibility of going to the Continent again. Confirmation that he was fit for continued active service weighed on Richard’s mind. Thoroughly distracted, he rounded a corner and nearly collided with a figure.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam!” the unexpected voice of Lady Belinda Crenshaw exclaimed.
“Lady Belinda! I beg your pardon,” he said assessing if he had hurt her. She held a stack of linens.
“It is quite alright, Colonel. But may I suggest you either take care where you are going or at least slow down?”
Richard chuckled. Others had often commented on his barrelling ways like a horse set on a mad dash.
“Did you have business in the hospital? One of your men?” She did not meet his eyes, and her cheeks looked pink.
“No. I travelled ahead of my regiment.”
“Oh.”
Hoping to not offend her this time, Richard tried to jest. “Despite Napoleon’s best try, they were no match for my quick acting batman. He saw the shell
coming before I did and managed to pull me from my mount. I may never ride again without pain, but the horse certainly had a worse fate.”
“How terrible,” she said at last meeting his eyes.
“Yes. I was quite fond of Victory’s Triumph.”
“How can you joke?” Tears pricked her eyes.
Blast, he caused her to cry again after all. “Soldiers often joke, otherwise the fear would be too great.”
Belinda jerked her chin up. “I understand that. I used to be fearless. I had thought tragedy could not touch me.”
Taking out his handkerchief, he gently held her face in one hand. “It is not that we are insensible to the fear. It is that living through it creates a certain amount of madness. We are not in control of when we live or die, but we might control some of the moments in between.”
As he said the words and looked into her eyes, he felt the lie of it. He had no control. Every rational part of his brain told him to break contact with her, but his lips were magnetically drawn to hers. That very madness he had mentioned before clawed at him and told him to kiss her savagely. Kiss her until there were witnesses or she succumbed to her own desire. Kiss her until the decision was out of both of their hands and a wedding was the only option.
Desperately, he stroked her lips with his. Running his tongue along the seam of her mouth, he made his attack when she gasped and opened for him. The first stroke of their tongues was like a canon blast. He ought to have felt the danger of it. Instead, the primal beast in him pulled Belinda closer until their bodies were flush as she dropped the linens she held. Slowly, reality returned. He released her lips and touched his forehead to hers, letting their breaths even.
“Was that the madness?” She looked up at him with swollen lips and a coy look.
God help him. He wanted to plunder her mouth again. “Everything about you drives me mad.”
Renewed Hope: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (When Love Blooms Book 2) Page 5
