Elizabeth had refrained from alluding to their reason for fleeing Meryton in her letter, deciding it was more tactful to leave it out. Considering Lydia’s apparent poverty, her tact had been well placed. She searched her mind for an inoffensive answer.
“Uncle Phillips was giving us the opport—” Jane began.
“Wickham left debts that put us in an awkward position,” Kitty interrupted bluntly.
Lydia glared at her. “I’m sure my George will pay them eventually. He said not to write Maria Lucas because she might let people know where we live, and it could be uncomfortable for us until he pays those silly debts, so you know he means to.” She tossed her curls again. “As if I’d waste money writing to anyone who can’t manage to secure a husband.” She looked down her nose at the three of them.
“And where is Mr. Wickham?” Uncle Phillips asked, tone disapproving.
Lydia shrugged. “How should I know? He’s out.”
Elizabeth exchanged a worried look with her uncle.
Kitty was looking about the room. “Lydia, what do you do all day? There aren’t even any books.”
“What do I do?” Lydia’s smile was smug. “Whatever I like. I’m a married woman now.”
“I have some extra thread if you wish to mend that curtain,” Jane said tentatively.
Jane pointed, and Elizabeth realized she’d missed the drab, gray curtains that hung to either side of the window. They blended in with the drab, gray walls. One had a long rip down the center.
Lydia made a shooing gesture. “Me? Mend? It’s not my curtain. I’ll take your thread, though, and you must also give me a needle, and a thimble.”
“But you had those things,” Kitty said.
“I sold them,” Lydia admitted.
“But that was Mama’s thimble,” Kitty cried.
“Mama would have been happy for me to have the money,” Lydia said staunchly.
“I’ll bring another next time we visit,” Jane promised.
Elizabeth hoped Jane wouldn’t give Lydia any of her favorites, for they’d likely end up sold as well.
The conversation continued in that vein for the entirety of their visit. Lydia needed everything, right down to a new shawl. It seemed she’d sold anything she didn’t need immediately. As for Mr. Wickham, Lydia continued to maintain that she didn’t know where he was, only that he went out every day.
Elizabeth found the visit thoroughly discouraging, even worrying. She could tell Jane and Kitty did as well. Their Uncle Phillips interrupted the sad silence in the carriage on the ride home only once, to say that Lydia and Mr. Wickham should be living better on five hundred pounds a year.
Part Three
Nymphs in the Park
Chapter Seven
Darcy and his house guest, his good friend Charles Bingley, sat down to breakfast in Darcy’s London home, unimaginatively named Darcy House, only to hear a knock at the outer door. Moments later, Darcy’s butler appeared to announce his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Not content to wait in the foyer, Richard sauntered in with his usual easy bravado. He snagged a croissant and sat down with them.
“Help yourself,” Darcy said dryly, nodding to his butler to excuse the man, whose face revealed mild chagrin.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Richard offered a grin. “Your cook makes the best croissants.”
“True,” Bingley said, and took a bite out of his.
“So, croissants are the reason behind this early morning visit?” Darcy asked.
Richard shook his head. “We have to ride in Hyde Park today,” he said without preamble.
Bingley paused in slathering more butter on his food. “Why?”
“Because our cousin,” Richard said, nodding toward Darcy, “is strolling in Hyde Park daily.”
“Anne?” Darcy frowned. “If this is about Aunt Catherine’s mulish insistence that Anne and I are engaged--”
Richard waved him to silence. “You know I’m on your side in that. Anne’s too, for that matter. She has no wish to wed you either, you know.”
Darcy stared at his cousin, surprised. He’d always been so focused on his battle with Aunt Catherine over the subject, he’d never stopped to wonder if Anne wanted the union. Why under Heaven wouldn’t she wish to marry him?
“Why walk with your cousin, then?” Bingley pressed. “Out with it, man. You’re the one who burst in on our breakfast, after all.”
Darcy blotted his mouth with his napkin to hide his smile. Richard loved drama, and Bingley was playing into his hands. As if in response to Darcy’s thoughts, Richard shoved a large bite of croissant in his mouth and set to carefully chewing.
Bingley scowled.
“Coffee, please,” Richard said to one of the waiting footmen once his mouth was clear.
“Would you rather wait to tell us until luncheon?” Bingley’s voice was thick with sarcasm.
Richard’s expression turned eager. “Will it be lunch here, prepared by Darcy’s cook?”
“The park,” Darcy prompted. “Or no more croissants.”
Richard took a sip of the coffee Darcy’s man brought, then cleared his throat. “It’s reputed that Anne is walking daily with three great beauties. Moreover, they are, well, not heiresses, but have reasonable dowries. There is the taint of trade in their background.” He offered Bingley a commiserative smile. “I’m told, however, that they are so lovely, any sane man would be willing to overlook that.”
“Anne is walking in the park?” Darcy asked. Once when he was visiting them, he’d found Anne pacing the hallways. She’d told him that the air was better there, which he considered odd. That was the only time he’d known her to walk for exercise.
Her preferred mode of transport was not her legs, but her low phaeton. Of course, as he recalled, Lady Catherine didn’t think it was safe for Anne to drive in London. The two argued on the point indecently. Then again, ever since Anne’s companion, a Mrs. Jenkinson, fell ill and expired, Anne and his aunt had taken to arguing on a vast number of topics.
“That’s what you took away from the colonel’s words?” Bingley shook his head at Darcy. He turned back to Richard. “More about the beauties.”
“Miss Anne de Bourgh, accompanied by Lady Catherine’s famous twin footmen, is walking in Hyde Park daily with three enchantresses who are new to London. From what I’ve heard, they walk at least a mile and are seen by all.”
“And likely besieged by all,” Darcy concluded. He was not one to fight through a mob of men for any woman, even a so-called enchantress.
Richard shook his head. “Reputedly not. No one can manage an introduction. Everyone who has a passing acquaintance with Anne is being besieged with requests, but Lady Catherine spends little time in town and the gentlemen who know her tend to say that people should visit Lady Catherine if they want an introduction to her daughter, and thereby to the mysterious nymphs who accompany her.”
Darcy didn’t miss that Anne’s three companions became more mythical with each passing moment of Richard’s telling. Likely, they were perfectly plain little things without a thought in their heads. “You don’t need me to greet Anne. You are just as much her cousin as I am.”
“Oh, yes, I do. There is safety in numbers. I don’t usually ride in Hyde Park alone.”
“Sounds right,” Bingley said, all eagerness.
Darcy scrutinized his cousin. “Since when are you afraid of four women? What’s really going on here?”
Richard offered a grin. “Very well. My general learned I’m related to Anne. He asked me to look over, what did he call them? Three diamonds and a sack of gold. He has a nephew he wants a beautiful heiress for. He wants my opinion and possibly an introduction before he sends in his heiress-hunting nephew.”
“So,” Darcy drawled. “You have no idea as to the quality of Anne’s three companions. You simply don’t want to come across as too interested in them. You’re afraid to get caught, to finally have to wed.”
“I do know they’re reputed to have mode
rate dowries and to be pretty,” Richard said defensively.
“You’re simply unclear on the siren part.”
“I believe I said goddesses and nymphs,” Richard said stiffly. “Sirens lure men to their deaths.”
“Yes, or to marriage,” Darcy said. “The two are much the same.”
“Oh, come now, Darcy.” Bingley brushed crumbs from his hands. “Let’s go see the sirens. You’re just as prone to marriage as the next fellow. We must all succumb eventually. At least, if they have dowries, they bring something to the union.”
Darcy shrugged. “If it will permit me to have the reminder of my breakfast in peace.”
“Certainly,” Bingley agreed.
“Yes, of course,” Richard concurred and went to get a second croissant.
Darcy took a sip of his coffee. In truth, he did wish to marry. He’d never admit as much, but he’d set the goal of gaining a wife that season. Unfortunately, that goal was proving highly unattainable.
For some unaccountable reason, he’d fallen into the habit of comparing every woman he met to a single, exasperating, quarrelsome woman he’d encountered last autumn. Elizabeth Bennet. Despite her somewhat low upbringing, unacceptable lack of connections and only modest dowry, there was something about her intelligent, mocking eyes that beguiled him. To his aggravation, no amount of time seemed to be slackening her appeal. These supposed goddesses of Richard’s would simply be another in a long series of disappointments he’d suffered this season, trying to find someone who could exorcise Miss Elizabeth from his thoughts.
***
That afternoon, Darcy and his two breakfast companions went riding in a somewhat blustery Hyde Park. At Richard’s suggestion, Darcy had a groom follow them, so he could attend their horses if they met the ladies. Aside from that provision, Darcy hadn’t felt the need for more than his usual preparations. Bingley, in contrast, had spent several hours making ready, though Darcy wasn’t certain what difference his efforts made in his neat appearance. Richard, of course, had the luxury of his uniform, quite potent on some women.
Darcy spotted them first, from a distance. Anne was nearly invisible, swaddled in a voluminous cloak, but her footmen’s hair stood out like beacons. On all approaches, men on foot and horseback hovered, obviously hoping for the opportunity of an introduction.
The women walked two by two, with Anne and a tall, slender figure leading. Behind walked two more, neither as tall as Anne’s companion. All four women wore bonnets, rendering it impossible to tell yet if Richard’s guess at their beauty was correct. Of the four, one of the second gestured as she walked, the movement stirring a vague sense of the familiar.
Darcy rode up to Anne, pleased to have his guess as to the cloaked woman’s identity confirmed when she looked up at him. He dismounted, his gaze settling on her companion. Only years of practice saw him to the ground without stumbling. The woman beside Anne, who’d turned her bonnet-topped head his way, was Miss Jane Bennet.
Miss Bennet wasn’t watching Darcy. Her eyes were fixed on a point behind him, and he knew without looking that she gazed on Bingley. There was no other way to account for the joy that flashed across her face. To his surprise, she quickly molded her features into polite recognition.
Darcy was stumped. Both to find Miss Bennet with his cousin and by her reaction. They’d left Hertfordshire the previous autumn largely because Darcy had convinced Bingley that Miss Bennet didn’t love him. Darcy had been sure she was only interested in Bingley because of his wealth. Were that true, why would she disguise her pleasure at seeing him?
Darcy was eminently familiar with the look a young woman gave a man when she was interested in his wealth. Every woman he met turned it on him, from casual acquaintances to his friend Bingley’s unwed sister. Miss Bennet’s expression was not that look.
Furthermore, did this mean Miss Bennet was one of Richard’s sirens? Beautiful, yes, but not an heiress. Was she? He hadn’t paid much attention to such considerations when in Hertfordshire, but was under the impression her dowry was modest by his and Bingley’s standards. The five sisters lived with their uncle and hadn’t seemed wealthy.
“Darcy,” Anne greeted, drawing his attention.
Belatedly, Darcy bowed. “Anne, I’d heard you were in town and walking in the park. I had no idea I would also be acquainted with your companion.”
“Then you know--”
“Miss Bennet,” Bingley interrupted, coming to stand beside Darcy.
More calmly, but radiating amusement, Richard appeared on his other side.
“Mr. Bingley,” Miss Bennet greeted, her tone friendly but revealing none of the elation Bingley’s did, or that Darcy had seen on her face. “Mr. Darcy.” She nodded to him and then turned politely to Richard.
Darcy opened his mouth to make the introduction, but instantly forgot what he meant to say. The other two women had come up to and around Anne and Miss Bennet, one to each side of the pair. Darcy found his gaze locked with the surprised eyes of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He closed his mouth, as no words were issuing from him.
Elizabeth. The other, secret, reason he’d helped hurry them from Hertfordshire. He was dangerously attracted to her and she suited him not at all.
She looked lovelier than ever. The fresh air brightened her fine eyes, heightened her complexion. Her dress, blue instead of gray, suited her far better than mourning drab.
The surprise on her face melted to annoyance, which she made no attempt to conceal. Darcy frowned. Why would she be annoyed with him? Perhaps because he paid her attention in Hertfordshire but never followed through with a proposal? He’d tried not to raise her expectations. He must not have succeeded as well as he’d thought.
“Right Darcy?” Richard said.
Darcy nodded, suddenly aware Richard and Bingley had taken over introductions. His neck heated as he realized he hadn’t heard a word. Unbidden, his gaze returned to Elizabeth.
“It’s decided then,” Bingley said cheerfully. “We shall join you ladies on your walk, and gladly.” He turned to Miss Bennet. “Shall we lead the way, Miss Bennet?”
Happiness brightened her eyes, but she quickly dimmed it. She offered a nod and a small smile. Bingley’s joyful expression showed no such restraint as he proffered his arm.
Darcy turned to wave his groom forward. One of Lady Catherine’s footmen appeared and took the reins of Darcy’s mount. He offered the man a nod of thanks.
“If it isn’t too much out of line for me to say, sir,” the man said in a low voice, “I would prefer to be able to report to Lady Catherine that you escorted Miss de Bourgh.”
He stepped back quickly, before Darcy could think of a response to such impudence. Darcy’s horse came between them as Anne’s footman led the animal away. Darcy stared stiffly after the retreating pair. Anne’s footman certainly had a great deal of effrontery to presume to tell Darcy what to do.
Besides, who else would Darcy walk with? He didn’t wish to encourage Elizabeth, even if walking with her would be preferable. He’d missed parleying with her quick wit, but it would be cruel to raise her hopes for a union he’d already decided was beneath him.
Trying to shrug off his preoccupation, Darcy turned back and offered his arm to his cousin. “Anne?”
“Thank you, Darcy,” she said and placed light fingers on his sleeve.
They set out, Darcy doing his best to believe he didn’t wish he was the one walking with Elizabeth Bennet.
Chapter Eight
Darcy and his cousin Anne started up the graveled path. The air about them was crisp, and the sun bright, but Anne still appeared cold. With her frail health, he was unsure why she was out in the park at all. Surely, her mother didn’t approve.
To accommodate his cousin, Darcy set a slow pace. Ahead, Bingley and Miss Bennet had already put considerable distance between themselves and the others. Behind, Elizabeth followed with Richard and Miss Kitty, who giggled.
“I suspect that as a colonel, it doesn’t overwhelm you to escort t
wo of us,” Miss Kitty said.
“Certainly not,” Richard replied, all affability. “It’s my pleasure.”
To Darcy’s ear, Richard sounded a bit smug. Darcy ground his teeth and lengthened his stride so he wouldn’t be forced to listen to Richard flirt with Elizabeth, who was sure to join in the conversation. Anne gave him a curious look but made a valiant effort to keep pace.
Pressing Elizabeth as far from his thoughts as he could, he said to Anne, “How are you enjoying London, Cousin?”
“I always like London in the cool weather,” Anne supplied. “And you?”
From the corner of his eye, Darcy could see several hovering gentlemen. He wondered how long it would be before one of them recognized him, Richard or Bingley and sought an introduction to their walking companions. “I enjoy London in the winter as well. I didn’t, however, take you for the walking type. In Rosings, you drive.”
“Driving gets me where I want to go. Walking is for exercise and company,” Anne said. “Besides, the air is crisp in the winter. I can walk without suffering from an inability to breathe, and so I do.”
“An inability to breathe?” Darcy repeated. Normally, Anne didn’t offer any details on her ongoing ailment. Then, normally, Lady Catherine was present.
“Yes. It’s the oddest occurrence. In the country, especially in the spring and autumn, I suffer such pains in breathing. Miss Kitty remarked that she suffers similarly and also develops a cough. I can be thankful I am not so afflicted at that.”
“That’s all?” Darcy asked, trying to ignore the cheerful chatter behind them. “That’s the extent of your ill health?”
“It’s terribly inconvenient.” Anne’s tone was one of protest.
“I daresay it is, but Aunt Catherine always gives the impression you’re near death’s door.”
“Mother is overly dramatic. It runs in her side of the family.”
“I say, is that you, Darcy,” a male voice called.
Not all of five minutes, Darcy thought, amused. He looked over his shoulder to find an acquaintance, Mr. Searle, bearing down on them. Not one of the gentlemen Darcy had expected, he realized as Searle fell in step beside him. Searle didn’t need to marry an heiress. He was already quite well off.
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