Other Mr. Darcy

by Monica Fairview

  She nodded, shaking out her dress. “Yes, it is certainly fortunate. Have Mr and Mrs Bingley returned yet?”

  “No, miss,” he replied.

  “Then I suppose they will be drenched,” she remarked.

  She really was feeling better, if she was standing in the hallway chattering with the butler.

  “If no one is here, then, Welding, I believe I shall retire. Good night.”

  “Good night, Miss Bingley. And, oh, Miss Bingley,” said Welding, remembering. “Mr Darcy called about an hour ago and asked for you.”

  Caroline stopped in the process of removing a glove. She stood there, completely immobile, trying to come to terms with the information. What could possibly have prompted Mr Darcy to call on her at such an hour? She questioned the butler, but he had no more information to give her, and after asking if she would be needing anything, withdrew with an elegant bow.

  Caroline remained rooted to the spot. Had Mr Darcy received a letter from Robert? No, that was absurd. Robert could not send a letter from on board a ship. Besides, Mr Darcy would have forwarded it to her with a note rather than coming round to see her.

  All her good humour evaporated, and her fears returned threefold. Only dire circumstances could have prompted Mr Darcy to seek her in person rather than sending word. Something must have happened. She could only assume the worst.

  She wished she had not sent Mrs Germain’s carriage back, for she could have used it to travel to the Darcys’. She considered hiring a hack and going over to ask Mr Darcy what had happened, but he may already have retired, and it would hardly do to awaken the whole household. It may not be an emergency, after all. Perhaps he had stopped to see her on his way from his club.

  That was extremely unlikely. Married gentlemen did not call on single ladies on their way back from their clubs without a reason.

  If only she had not gone to Mrs Germain’s house! She would at least have been spared the misery of suspense.

  She stood in the entrance for a long time, weighing her options. Finally, she tossed her gloves onto a table and began to slowly ascend the stairs.

  She had no options. There was really nothing to be done but brace herself, and wait until morning.

  Chapter 24

  Caroline presented herself in Berkeley Square as early as she dared. The skies roiled with granite clouds, but there were patches of blue. After the hard ruthless storm the night before, Caroline was relieved that the rain was holding back.

  She waited in the hall, since the butler was reluctant to say whether Mr and Mrs Darcy were in. Ten minutes later, she still stood there. Her tense impatience reached such a level that she thought of running upstairs and seeking Eliza herself. But the risk of finding her with Mr Darcy in her bedchamber was too great.

  She had no one to blame but herself, after all, for arriving too early for a morning visit.

  But to her surprise, the Darcys presently appeared from the direction of the breakfast room, and began hastily to put on their outdoor clothing.

  “I am sorry, Miss Bingley, but we cannot receive you at the moment,” said Mr Darcy, his manner civil but reserved. “We have an extremely pressing matter to attend to. But if you would care to wait in the drawing room, we will return as soon as we can, and I will endeavour to explain what this is all about.”

  Caroline looked towards Eliza, hoping to discover more from her. But Eliza’s eyes were cast down as she secured the buttons on her pelisse, and she refused to look up.

  “What is it that can be so urgent?” cried Caroline. “Pray tell me! Why cannot you tell me now?”

  “You will know by and by. I am afraid we must leave immediately. It is inadvisable for us to speak now,” said Mr Darcy, obscurely, his gaze fixed on the door. “But we will—we will return very soon. Sooner than you would wish.”

  And with that unfathomable remark, he ushered Eliza quickly out of the house.

  The ominous words rang in her ears. They did not bode well at all. Clearly Mr Darcy wished to avoid talking to her. But what could be so terrible that neither he nor Eliza could inform her immediately? Why could they not reveal the truth?

  There was only one possible answer. Mr Robert Darcy had been killed.

  Her worst fears had come to pass. His ship had been attacked by privateers. Caught in the fighting, with no military training, he had fallen in battle.

  Tears flooded her eyes. If he had died—

  But no! She could not even complete the thought.

  Murky confusion enveloped her like mist. She could see nothing at all. Moving as if blindfolded, she found her way to the drawing room by touch, tripping up the stairs, then fumbling against the walls until she located the door. If she were not so familiar with the house, she could never have reached it.

  She tore open the door and stumbled in.

  A footman caught her by the elbow as she toppled forward. “Are you well, Miss Bingley?”

  “Yes, yes,” she said, righting herself, seeing him only as an outline in the fog.

  She shut the door behind her, and leaned against it. Why had the Darcys not revealed the truth? How could they walk out and leave her like this? Did they have no mercy? Cowards, both of them! Could they not face her and tell her?

  She lurched forward again, heading unseeing to the sofa. She had to lie down. She had to—

  She tripped over an object in her way. She righted herself and continued on her course.

  “What the devil!”

  The fog cleared. Her vision returned, and she found blue eyes—familiar blue sapphire eyes—looking up at her. His legs—outstretched in that familiar insolent manner—had obstructed her way.

  She halted, transfixed by the sight of him. She had forgotten how gloriously handsome he was. Forgotten how his eyes could look into her and see her very soul.

  Except that his eyes were hard as pebbles and distant as the sky, and while she took a step forward, he came rapidly to his feet, and moved away from her to stand by the window.

  For a moment they both stood there, doing nothing at all. She struggled to shape coherent words. But her brain suffered from a gaping void where words should be, and she could not find any.

  He continued to look at her, in a severe, disagreeable manner. She had to say something, since he was unspeaking and she could not endure it for a moment longer.

  “I see you have returned,” she said, finally falling back on polite social chatter. “This is quite unexpected.”

  It is not what she would have wished to say at all. Now that language had returned, she could think of a hundred other things that she could have said first. But she had not.

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice frosty enough to turn the air around them into ice.

  “Was your ship attacked?”

  “No,” he said. “The winds were unfavourable, and we were blown off course to the coast of France. The ship suffered some damage. I was forced to find my way back.”

  A muscle flickered in his cheek.

  That tiny motion gave her the courage to brave the cold. She licked her lips as she struggled to find a way to communicate. His eyes followed the movement.

  “I am glad that you have returned,” she said. The words were wholly inadequate, but she could not go further, not before he gave her the chance.

  “Indeed?” he said, raising an eyebrow with casual disdain.

  She tried to pretend to herself that his contempt made no difference, but it did. It was a knife, chiselling away at her insides. But she continued, because it was her responsibility to clear things between them, and because to say nothing would have been far worse. “When did you return?”

  “Last night,” he said.

  Last night, while she had been at Mrs Germain’s house? The butler had said that Mr Darcy had called. But it had been Robert.

  The thought set her pulse galloping so hard she was convinced he could see it. Without thinking, she pulled down her sleeves to cover her wrists.

  “Did you come to our hou
se yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  The single syllable told her enough. She knew what he was not saying, and began to understand the ice in his eyes. He had returned, thinking she would be distraught, wanting to speak to her, only to discover she had gone out to a ball, of all things. It was enough to convince him, yet again, of her complete indifference.

  “Last night,” said Caroline, “Louisa convinced me to go to the Montford ball. I was there for only a short time and I did not find it to my taste. I spent the evening with Mrs Germain instead.”

  He did not comment. He watched with ice-hard eyes.

  Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps she had misread him and had allowed her imagination to build with no foundation. Perhaps she did not matter to him at all. She did not want to reveal her feelings to him. She could not possibly bare her soul before him.

  You must wear your heart on your sleeve, Mrs Germain had said, if he comes back.

  She took a deep breath. If there was ever a time for her to do it, this was the time.

  “I am glad you have returned,” she began. It was excruciating, this baring of her soul, especially since he could have been an ice statue. Who could have known it would be so painful?

  “Because if you had not,” she continued, taking a deep breath, and shivering inside, “I would have found a way to come after you.”

  He moved.

  “A way to come after me?” he repeated. His voice was thick.

  “I was planning to follow you to Boston.”

  “Why?”

  The blunt question left her no choice at all. If she was wrong about him, if she had misunderstood the signals, if she was to be exposed—

  She had been granted another chance. She could not protect herself now.

  Very well, if he had to hear it— “Because I love you,” she said. If her words sounded shrill, well, what could he expect when she had never said those words to anyone?

  He strode forward, clutched her hands and hauled her to him. She dropped her face shyly, sank it into his shoulder, filling her lungs with the sweet familiar scent of him. She grasped him fiercely to her until he started to laugh.

  “Is there something funny?” she asked, irked that he could laugh at such a moment.

  “Yes, there is,” he said, sliding his finger under her chin and raising her face to him. “You. You make me laugh.” he said. “And do not bite your lip, for I will make you pay.” She tried to draw back, but he held her fast. “Oh, Caroline, don’t get angry, not now, love. You make me laugh, in many different ways. And I love you for it, my beautiful cat-eyed, sharp-clawed, very proper English lady.”

  He ran a thumb against her lower lip, and his touch sent ripples of joy reverberating through her. “I have wanted to do this for a long time,” he murmured, “if you will permit me.”

  “Yes.”

  He bowed down and brushed his lips against hers. They were tender and gentle and everything that was Robert. They asked of her only what she was willing to give. Humbly, faltering in this new language, she answered, promising her love.

  Loud footsteps sounded outside the drawing room. Caroline pulled herself languidly into the world of reality. Robert groaned in protest as he slowly relinquished her.

  The voices of Eliza and Mr Darcy reached them distinctly. Caroline stepped away hurriedly as the door of the drawing room swung open.

  Mr Darcy marched in, followed by Eliza, whose face glowed with mischief. “Did we stay away long enough?” said Eliza.

  “It appears we are just in time,” said Mr Darcy, rigidly correct. “The situation has gone quite far enough.”

  “Considering that they are engaged to be married, however— ” said Eliza.

  “—perhaps they have committed no major breach of propriety,” said Mr Darcy.

  “Cousin Fitz,” said Robert.

  “Yes, Cousin Robert?”

  “You may go to the devil!”

  Caroline flinched and threw Mr Darcy an apologetic glance.

  But to her surprise, Mr Darcy began to laugh. Eliza, by his side, laughed as well. Robert, deflated, allowed his tension to disperse. Caroline, with the heady beat of her pulse now under control, slipped her fingers between his and gave his hand a tight squeeze.

  “I warned you we would be back sooner than you wished! You cannot complain,” said Darcy, addressing Caroline.

  “You could have told me he was here. You knew I was filled with anxiety,” said Caroline. “That was not well done of you.”

  “If we had told you, it would have spoiled the surprise,” said Eliza. “But it has all turned out for the best, has it not? Surely you do not intend to hold a grudge?”

  “You will not escape so easily,” said Robert, “I will see my chance, one of these days, and I will take my revenge.”

  “Do so if you dare!” replied Mr Darcy. “Meanwhile, I think a celebratory drink might be in order. I shall ring for my best bottle of claret. And for the ladies?”

  Caroline exchanged glances with Robert. “Sherry,” they said, at the same moment, and fell into a peal of laughter.

  ***

  Darcy and Eliza did not make it easy for them to excuse themselves. Since the Darcys were clearly delighted that matters were finally settled, it seemed disloyal to leave. But as the hour came closer to luncheon, Caroline jumped up, saying she needed to let the others know their good news. Robert, who was quite content to remain where he was, followed her rather sheepishly.

  “Do you not want to spend any time alone with me?” she asked, astonishing herself with her brazen behaviour.

  In answer, Robert raised her hand to his lips. But it was distinctly unsatisfying, since she was wearing gloves.

  “Where do you wish to go?” he asked.

  “To a park,” she said. “I would like to walk with you in the park.” She was thinking of the hills in Pemberley, and of the time they were there together.

  Eliza, who had come out to say good-bye, let out a gurgle of laughter.

  “I am beginning to distrust that laugh of yours,” said Caroline, tying on her bonnet. “What is it that amuses you now?”

  “Nothing,” she said, with exaggerated innocence.

  But as the butler threw open the door, Caroline groaned in disappointment.

  The rain was hurtling down in heavy torrents, and the ground was a treacherous mire of pools and flowing waters.

  “I suppose,” said Eliza, “that you have changed your mind about the park. Shall I have places set for you for luncheon?”

  Caroline shook her head at her. “You could have spared me putting on my pelisse and bonnet, when you knew the weather was so very dreadful.”

  Eliza’s eyes danced. “But you looked so happy, all prepared to go walking with Cousin Robert. I did not want to be the one to disappoint you.”

  “You have a wicked sense of humour, Cousin Eliza,” said Robert. “It will land you in trouble some day soon.”

  She leaned back against Mr Darcy, who had joined them and now stood behind her.

  “I know,” she said, smiling at her husband. “It already has.”

  ***

  Caroline stayed not a moment longer with the Darcys than she had to, for she had left home early, and Charles and Jane did not know her whereabouts. Besides, she was eager to impart the news to them as soon as possible. The moment the rain stopped, she set out with Robert, brushing aside Mr Darcy’s offer to send round for the carriage.

  One look at Caroline and Robert’s radiant faces told Jane and Charles everything. They received him with obvious pleasure. Charles was so overjoyed that shook Robert’s hand vigorously for several minutes.

  “You cannot believe how glad I am you have come back,” said Charles. “I tell you I was at my wit’s end trying to convince Caroline not to follow you. Your arrival has saved my sister from a wild goose chase across the high seas.” He let go of Robert’s hand and thumped him cordially on the back. “What on earth obsessed you to go rushing off like that without a word
to anyone? Come, you must tell us everything.”

  Caroline thought it was a good thing she had resolved matters with Robert before they saw her brother, for Charles had spoken far too freely.

  “Before I start answering questions,” said Robert. “I think you should know that Caroline has accepted my hand in marriage.”

  Jane and Charles heartily congratulated the happy couple. Louisa who had just stepped in, heard the laughter, and entered the room just as Robert had settled down next to Caroline on the sofa.

  “Oh,” she said to Robert. “You have returned.”

  “Yes,” said Charles, beaming and rubbing his hands, “is it not wonderful news? They are to be married.”

  Louisa congratulated them in a lukewarm fashion, saying that she did not know what the fuss was about, since they had been engaged for quite some time now, and it was more than time that they announced it in the papers. “Not that it really matters. It is already old news, and everyone has heard about it by now. I suppose the announcement will make it official.”

  Robert exchanged an amused glance with Caroline.

  “But you do not yet know the purpose of my visit,” said Louisa, growing animated. “If you knew, you would be quite surprised, for it is quite out of the ordinary. I had to come over to tell you. You will never guess!” She paused to make sure she had everyone’s attention. “Sir Cecil Rynes has announced his intention of marrying Miss Enlow! Everyone is talking about it, for Lord Dedton was pursuing her for himself, and he is quite put out. It is said, in fact, that he almost called Sir Cecil out, for he accused him of stealing a march on him. There was a most appalling row, but fortunately, they were able to prevent Lord Dedton from insisting on a duel. I wish you had been there, Caroline. You would have laughed so! Miss Enlow is worth thirty thousand, you know. And he is a good match for her, too, for she will be marrying into a title.”

  A carriage drew up in front of the house. Louisa stopped speaking and went quickly to the window to peer out. “Oh, that is Mr Fallow’s barouche. I told him to call on me here. I must leave you now, for I promised to accompany him to Hyde Park.”