Renewed Hope: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (When Love Blooms Book 2)

by Rose Fairbanks

  Through her tirade, Arlington stood, anger rising in him. Why had he thought to do this? Compromise, he reminded himself. “Very well. Anne, it is my extreme honour to offer you my hand in marriage. Will you be my viscountess?”

  “No,” she said with glee in her eyes.

  What the devil had overcome the women of his acquaintance? “Do not think I will ask again,” he said with a hard edge.

  “If you are asking me, you must feel as though you have no other options. I rather think I can stake matters as I please.”

  “You are mistaken. I do not come to you beholden to anyone.” It was not like before where his father had cut his allowance if he did not marry Anne. “My fortune is my own.”

  She stood as well. “I do not care about your money or your title. I have everything I need right here.”

  “This is not a game,” he said advancing on her. “What is it you want from me?” He expected her to shrink from him, but she lifted her chin and boldly met his eye.

  “I will have you as my husband only if you can promise me faithfulness.”

  *****

  Anne stood before James, holding her breath. He seemed to accept her facade. She used all of her courage to refuse him and make her demands when a greater part of her welcomed any chance to flee Rosings.

  “Is that all?” He asked.

  “I believe that will be hard enough for you,” she said. Meeting his eyes again, he actually managed to look ashamed. “If there is no threat to your income, what has made you consider marriage and to me after all these years? I know you cannot have affection for me Yes, I doubt your fidelity.”

  “You desire truth?”

  “I will have nothing else.”

  “Sit with me and I will explain.” She looked at him warily but agreed. In an awkward way, James explained that he had determined he should marry, especially as his father was growing older and James desired a more distinguished career in Parliament.

  “And I was your first thought?”

  “You are certainly the best for the position,” he said.

  Anne wondered who he had proposed to before her. And even more so, who was stupid enough to reject his offer. As unacquainted with gentlemen as she was, she still knew James was wickedly handsome and had the devil’s charm…usually.

  “You still have not promised me faithfulness,” she pressed.

  “I will honour you,” he said with a savage tone to his voice.

  “Forgive me if I doubt that. You have said enough to allow me to know you recently proposed to another woman, this on top of already overthrowing me years ago and your reputation as a rake the last decade.”

  Arlington smiled slyly. “You will have no need to regret my experiences.” He took her hand in his and lightly caressed it.

  “Of course, I will!” Even as his ministrations brought pleasure, Anne reminded herself it had been practiced on many others.

  “Anne,” he said and leaned close to her. “Trust in me.”

  His breath fanned her face. “I…I cannot,” she said. Then she made the mistake of looking into his blue eyes that watched her earnestly. Anne fluttered her eyelashes as her heart skipped a beat. Then she felt nothing but warmth as he brushed his lips against hers.

  Arlington brought his hand to her cheek. “That was not so bad, was it?”

  “Perhaps more experience is required before I can give an opinion.” Her tart answer was rewarded with the return of his lips, this time with greater pressure. The shock of pleasure trickled through her body, her mouth felt afire. Feeling him attempt to suck her bottom lip, she tried mimicking the action. In the small opening of her lips, he flicked his tongue forward. Feeling as though lightning struck her, her ears rang. Arlington teased with his tongue again and this time, she moaned as a shiver coursed down her spine.

  Arlington withdrew, his chest heaving. “Do not doubt that I feel attraction for you, Anne. Come with me to London. Be my bride.”

  She had her answers, did she not? “Yes,” she said before returning his kisses. She had waited ten years for these, and she would not give them up easily.

  *****

  Christmas morning dawned in Leeds as a cloudy, cold day. Despite its lack of suitable holiday cheer, Jacob and Letitia Truman had reason to be thankful. Their father was, at last, regaining his strength and little Jake seemed stronger every day as well. Lucius Truman recovered so much as to talk about returning to the shop the following week.

  “I was astonished at how prices have changed,” Jacob admitted to his father after Christmas dinner. Letitia and Jake were napping.

  “The war and the harvests have changed much. The people are unhappy, of course.”

  “I do not doubt it.”

  “There were attacks in Nottinghamshire last month. Angry farmers attacked the factories.”

  “Hmmm,” Jacob said between puffs of a cigar, a special, Christmas treat. “Do they not understand if materials are more expensive, the price of goods goes up as well?”

  “It seems they do not know that,” Mr. Truman said. “I have tried to keep my costs reasonable, but I cannot operate at a loss.”

  “What does your friend, Mr. Bingley, say?”

  “There are trade interruptions with the Continent and even America due to the war. Local wool is in high demand, but that will collapse when there is peace. He knows he will face a financial loss at the time, it is only a question of how much and for how long.”

  “If local wool is in such demand that means he buys high as well, correct?”

  “Indeed. The same farmers angry at stocking machines set the prices, there.”

  Jacob shook his head. “I assume they charge high to pay their rent.”

  Mr. Truman raised an eyebrow. “Dare you say the landlords are at the heart of all of this? I thought you went to fight the French, son, not take up their Jacobin ways.”

  “I am not blaming the landlords,” Jacob held up his hands. “They face poor harvests and inflation with the rest of us. Taxes continue to rise on them in the never-ending war.”

  “So, we shall blame Napoleon.” Mr. Truman raised his glass.

  “I will drink to that,” Jacob agreed.

  “What are your plans for March?” the father asked his son.

  “I will not renew my contract, and I will return home.”

  “There is talk of war with America. You will not feel duty-bound to serve?”

  “I am needed here,” Jacob answered firmly.

  “I have never wanted you to sacrifice your desires for the wants of others. That is not the Truman way. Do you still fancy Canada?”

  Jacob shrugged his shoulders. “What is there for me there that I cannot accomplish here?”

  “I am surprised to hear that. The very fact that we were just talking about landowners and how they are the machinery that spins the wheels of our economy says it all. Over there, you might become one yourself.”

  “I do not have a head for agriculture or collecting rents any more than I have one for ledgers.”

  “No, you were more suited to those dead philosophers.”

  “I was young and foolish. Do not fear, I know my place now, sir. I will not fail you.”

  His father stilled, his glass halfway to his mouth. Setting it down, he fixed an earnest gaze upon his son. “Is that what you think? That I was ashamed of your interests?”

  “I was an idiot to ever think I could be a tutor.”

  “Is that why you did not continue to Cambridge when Bingley offered to pay?”

  “I was sick of charity and felt I owed allegiance to a country that had offered me so much.”

  “Promise me you will consider Canada, still. Letty’s sister-in-law would make an excellent wife for you in a new land.”

  Jacob promised to think it over, but guilt gnawed at him for even considering leaving his still-recovering father and his sister.

  In hindsight, Jacob wondered why he was given a gentleman’s education when there was no means of launching h
im into gentry society. The Trumans were not rich like the Bingleys. His friend Frederick went on to become a barrister. Having visions of glory, Truman shunned working in his father’s shop and instead joined the army when war broke out with France again.

  He had been young and foolish; sheltered even. The Bingleys treated the Trumans as equals, as did everyone in their market town that Jacob had met. It was not like the stories he had heard of America. At Eton, the gentlemen’s sons treated him the same as Fred Bingley. Detestable, new money and the victims of no small amount of hazing. Entering the army, however, Jacob encountered prejudice in its rawest form for the first time. Many soldiers hated having one of his ancestry as an ensign and giving orders. Worse, he had to obey the cruel orders of his sadistic commanding officer or face court martial. At times, he braved the risk. And was soundly punished.

  Of course, he should have understood the wider world would never accept him after Carrie broke off their engagement on the eve of their elopement. They had been too young to wed without parental consent, and her male guardian never would have approved of such a poor match. Jacob had been too much in love to consider the realities, and when it seemed to occur to her, he had been too angry to think rationally about them. She claimed it was about pleasing her family, but even then, he wondered if it was not because she understood the world better than he. Marrying him would be a step down for any English lady. Mulattoes, such as he, were often more detested than free blacks. When it came down to it, Caroline Bingley made the choice of money, wealth and society. Things he could never offer her.

  As a younger man, Jacob was reckless in battle. He dared God to strike him dead. What did he have to return to England for? What did he have to live for? Fighting Napoleon’s Mamelukes in Spain broke his angry spirit, however. They were part of Napoleon’s troops that had suppressed Spain and were hated by the locals for their dark skin. Napoleon had bought them in Egypt. They were slaves forced into the army and given no choice but to oppress and kill. War was always kill or be killed and, somehow, Jacob was surprised to learn it was no different when the person on the other side of the field aiming at you could be a distant cousin. Since that battle, however, he had learned there were worse things than being a black man in England.

  Accepting the prejudices of his countrymen was part of the way of the world, but, at least, in his part, it was not as terrible as it could be. Except, of course, this phase of life would soon be over. His contract was coming to an end, and Richard considered resignation as well. They were growing old and battle weary. Without the army pay, however, Richard had little independence. He could not afford personal servants, and Jacob would need to be hired as part of the Matlock estate or find other employment. The trouble was, of course, that he could recite Greek passages and kill but had never been very skilled in cravat knots or keeping ledgers.

  Chapter Eleven

  After a headache-inducing Christmas, Arlington left Rosings with Lady Catherine and her daughter in tow. Thankfully, he had few moments with Anne and Lady Catherine was even more overbearing than he recalled. It allowed him to avoid reflections on the insanity that seized him with her innocent kisses. He had few moments with Anne and Lady Catherine was even more overbearing than he recalled. He began to curse Darcy and his stupid scheme to take him to Hertfordshire. If he had not gone then, he never would have got it into his head to marry. Mrs. Bennet must have poisoned her soup with seasons to induce matrimony. The one thing that brought him comfort, was recognising how Anne suffered living with her mother.

  They arrived at Matlock House before his parents. Arlington craved the solitude of his apartments but stayed to greet his parents. After an hour of Lady Catherine observing that his mother ought to redecorate the drawing room, Lord and Lady Matlock along with Richard arrived.

  “James! What a surprise!” His mother gushed and greeted him with a kiss. Glancing about the room, her gaze landed upon her sister-in-law and niece. “Catherine, Anne what brings you to London?”

  Arlington cleared his voice. “I invited them for the wedding.”

  Lady Matlock swung her head toward Richard. “How did you manage to tell your brother already? Or was kissing Belinda under the mistletoe all part of a plan?”

  Confused and shocked, Arlington turned his eyes to brother. “Richard, what is she talking about?”

  “Congratulate me, brother. I am engaged to be married to Lady Belinda Crenshaw. I count myself fortunate you and Darcy were stupid enough to pass her over.”

  Arlington blushed for Anne’s sake, but she appeared indifferent. If only memories of her kisses made him feel indifferent. He cleared his throat. “You have my congratulations, and I will ask for yours as well. Anne and I are engaged. We plan to wed in a fortnight.”

  A hush fell over the room as each person digested the unexpected news. Lady Matlock reacted first, “How wonderful!” She kissed James’ cheek again and then ran to Anne’s side. “I am blessed indeed to have two such sons and now two excellent daughters.”

  Richard and the Earl greeted him with hearty handshakes, but a questioning look in their eyes. Arlington felt no compulsion to explain matters to them.

  “We had planned on inviting Darcy and Georgiana over for a family dinner tomorrow in honour of Richard and Belinda. Now that you and Anne are engaged as well, we shall have to host quite the party in a week or two.”

  The men in the room groaned simultaneously. “Do not believe that is necessary for mine or Belinda’s sake, Mother,” Richard said.

  “Nonsense! Both sons of the Earl of Matlock are engaged? Of course, we shall host a magnificent party. And a double wedding!”

  Arlington walked to the sideboard as he saw his mother’s eyes glaze over with visions of lace and fripperies. She had mourned the loss of her daughters and always looked forward to her sons’ weddings.

  “Catherine,” Lady Matlock continued. “Lady Crenshaw and Lady Belinda were to accompany me to my modiste next week. Surely we can fit Anne into the schedule as well.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Arlington watched as Anne was drawn into the conversation. She had little experience with such enthusiasm. Visits to Rosings garnered much less joy from his mother, but Anne’s eyes brightened with amusement. Her full lips smiled at his mother and laughed at some remark Richard made. The longing to kiss her again felt like a punch in the gut. He needed to leave and regain his sanity.

  “My apologies,” he said to the room. “I had promised to meet with my solicitor, and now I certainly have new matters to take care of. You will excuse me, of course.” Although he felt all eyes in the room upon him, he only sought out one pair. He made his way to Anne and bowed over her hand. “Rest from your travels and I will call tomorrow.”

  Anne blushed prettily in return. “I look forward to it.”

  Once he quitted the house, he went directly to the solicitor to begin matters for Anne’s marriage settlement. He had no need of her fortune although she was entitled to all of his. He had expected this moment to bring melancholy remembrances of Claire, but the situation was utterly different. With her, it had been a matter of attempting to find hidden treasure, and now they both had wealth aplenty.

  Again, his solicitor had worries of frame breakers, and it put to mind a way to rid Hertfordshire of George Wickham. He determined to call on the young Duke of Devonshire as Cavendish was the Lord Lieutenant of Derbyshire and in control of its militia.

  Finishing there, he called on Darcy. Arlington had been surprised to learn his cousin was in town and presumably unengaged since his aunt did not share any news. Arlington feared Darcy had met with a disastrous answer. The master was not home when Arlington arrived, but expected from his club any moment. When he entered the study, his sunken eyes was answer enough to Arlington’s unspoken concern.

  “Ah, you emerge at last,” Darcy said while handing him a glass of wine.

  “My last hurrah,” Arlington replied. He did not need to let his cousin know that his condition was from lack of s
leep due to stirring thoughts of his betrothed. Although, he likely could have found commiseration from Darcy with the headache and raw nerves that afflicted a person after more than an hour in Lady Catherine’s company.

  “Last?” Darcy raised his eyebrows.

  “I finally visited her grave,” Arlington murmured without meeting Darcy’s eyes. “Congratulate me. I am to be married,” he attempted to hide his volatile emotions.

  “You have been back to Hertfordshire as well, then?”

  Arlington furrowed his brows. It seemed like a lifetime ago he had offered his hand in marriage to Caroline Bingley. Having a sudden understanding, he answered, “Ah no. No, that was a misguided effort to punish my parents again.”

  “They are sorry,” Darcy said. He had always hated the division in the family.

  “I know,” Arlington said. “Claire is buried in Kent. Hertfordshire would be rather out of the way.”

  “You went to Rosings,” Darcy said while leaning back in his chair.

  Why did he say it with such shock? Darcy had been visiting Rosings all these years and never noticed Anne? She hid behind a mouse-like exterior but was firm and unyielding. She had not cared for his opinion or his title. Arlington shook his head to clear his thoughts and chose to play his usual indulgent noble role. “Well, I do dislike the London ladies, and Anne has rarely left Rosings.”

  Darcy did not reply and after another moment, Arlington shrugged. “If I am to make a marriage without affection, I might as well please the family and save Anne from her mother. I likely saved you as well,” he said before taking another sip. Why did considering Anne marrying Darcy fill him with a desire to throttle his cousin?

  “I never would have agreed. Especially now…” Darcy trailed off and looked at his wine. “I do not intend to marry at all.”

  Silence stretched between them. “Your pain will wane,” Arlington said at last.

  Darcy returned to the sideboard to refill his glass and create distance between them. “Your Claire has been gone for ten years. As long as the woman I love lives, I cannot extinguish any hope through my own actions.”