Mr. Darcy's Foreboding: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Glenna Mason

  “If Darcy’s in town, then the colonel will be back here too. I wonder where Darcy has been.” A glance around showed Wickham that he was in a shopping district favored by fashionable ladies. Wickham drove the buggy up and down the streets for fifteen minutes before he found what he was looking for: two carriages with the D’Arcy crest in front of the shop of modiste Madame DePre. A quick glance through the window revealed Jane and Georgiana conversing, as they admired a bolt of silk.

  “Maybe my fortune is not forfeit after all. I’ll have to think on it—albeit very carefully.”

  Wickham entered White’s clandestinely. He assumed that with the ladies shopping the gentlemen would convene at White’s for cards and whiskey. Wickham wanted to see, not be seen. Hence he avoided the waiters and the members he knew, as he practically slithered down the halls, glancing into rooms. A ha! Success! At the far end of the second floor bar, overlooking the street, four gentlemen sat, intent on their whist and their whiskey.

  “Four spades,” he heard distinctly. Although the gentleman’s back was to him, he would recognize that voice anywhere—Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam—apparently still on leave. He concentrated on the other three. Mr. Bennet was the colonel’s partner; Darcy and Bingley were across from each other, intent on their hands and their drinks.

  “All pass. Good! Lead, Darcy.”

  Wickham ducked back into the doorway. As soon as Mr. Bennet laid down his hand, he, as dummy, would be looking around the room.

  Wickham leaned against the mahogany wall, his chin resting on his hand, his eyes shifting in thought. He’d have to get a feeling for the chances of finding a Bennet lady alone. He was sure time was of the essence; he probably had until Sunday at the longest. However, one thing was definitely in his favor. The places to stash a young lady in London were countless.

  Wickham headed for the first floor bar, where he could observe the street and the entrance. Wickham wanted his own whiskey. On the slim chance one of the four entered this bar, he could just slip out the back. He had no intention of following the men. He knew where they lived. With the Bennet parents along, the party was probably at Darcy’s or better still split between the Darcy and Bingley abodes.

  Step one was clear: find a place that one could hide a gentleman’s daughter. He couldn’t take her to Mrs. Younge’s. That would be the first place Darcy and the colonel would look. And Mrs. Younge was very susceptible to bribes.

  He thought about his favorite brothel, but would Guinevere let him hide a captive in her establishment? If so, it would cost him a fortune. But then he’d have a fortune. There was a small problem. She’d want a substantial payment up front. That he didn’t have.

  He might have to rent a room.

  An hour later, lost in his thoughts, he missed Bingley calling for his carriage and Darcy his horse. Wickham was a little short of drunk by then, having consumed three quick shots of Scotch, topped by a gin.

  “Charge it.”

  “Your number, sir.”

  “I don’t know. Look it up. Fitzwilliam Darcy, you fool.”

  *****

  At dinner that evening Darcy broke the news of his gift to Mrs. Bennet and Lydia. “I know that you two do not like to ride, and since the colonel and I hope to give Miss Elizabeth and Miss Catherine extended lessons later this week, I tried to think of something that might be special to you two ladies, something that you’d never get to do in Meryton. I thought we might include Mrs. Phillips too, if she is available and amenable.”

  “And the gift, Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Bennet asked impatiently.

  “I don’t know if you are familiar with the Barbary Hotel.”

  “No.”

  “Well, it is retreat right in the middle of London, a few doors from Buckingham Palace. It is a favorite of Princess Juliet and Lady Ashford. Royalty from Europe often travels over for its waters.”

  “Waters?”

  “It is a Bath right in the middle of London—quite a clever idea from and for the owner.”

  Lydia did not look at all impressed, so Darcy pressed on. “There are cool and warm pools, plus dancing lessons and dramatic readings, often by famous actors, involving the audience. You would be associating with the finest echelons of society.”

  “You thought to treat us to this? And my sister?”

  “If you like.”

  “Oh, I like,” Mrs. Bennet said. Darcy relaxed. Then Mrs. Bennet asked, “Lydia?”

  “Are there no men there? Just princesses and duchesses?”

  “Of course, each evening, at supper and for dancing. I understand that the waltz is played several times a night. It is popular in Europe and many guests are European.”

  “Well then I’d say yes. It’ll be pretty boring around here now that the shopping trip is over.”

  “Shall I send a note to invite Mrs. Phillips? I’ve secured you three rooms for Thursday and Friday nights.”

  “Yes, please invite my sister, Mr. Darcy. She seldom gets to London.”

  “I’ll send my carriage for her. She can stay for the races and ride back with us Sunday afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said, beaming.

  “Do you think Mr. Phillips would like to come up for the races? I imagine he has to work Thursday and Friday, but we could send a conveyance for him Friday afternoon.”

  “Ask Aunt Phillips,” Lydia said abruptly.

  “Please invite Mr. Phillips for Friday evening and Saturday at the races. He works so hard. He deserves a little vacation.”

  Mrs. Bennet rose high up that evening in Darcy’s estimation. She was very silly it was true, but she was a thoughtful, kind woman at heart. Lydia, however, descended to the bottom of Darcy’s vast well of esteem. She was now on par with Caroline Bingley. Even his Aunt Catherine and George Wickham had never sunk that low.

  *****

  “Meet me during cigars in the back parlor,” Elizabeth whispered to Darcy.

  “I’d love to.”

  So when the ladies and gentlemen separated for a short while after dinner, the gents for their cigars and port, the ladies for coffee or tea, Darcy excused himself and slipped away, as did Elizabeth.

  In the parlor, alone with only a candle for light, Elizabeth asked, “What are you up to, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Miss Elizabeth, I am not up to anything sinister.”

  “Then tell me, please,” she said, softening.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam has fallen in love with Miss Kitty.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “Oh, does she favor him?”

  “I assume so. I haven’t spoken to her about him. So . . . “

  “So he spoke to his parents, the Earl and Countess of Matlock.”

  “And they disapprove?”

  “Certainly not. My aunt and uncle are the jewels in the crown that is the aristocracy of England.”

  “So what then? Why the Hotel Barbary?”

  “So they are going to hold a dinner dance Thursday evening to meet Miss Catherine and introduce her to their friends.”

  “Even though they are not betrothed?”

  “It’s not that serious an occasion. It is simply their chance to meet Miss Kitty and her family in a gala surrounding.”

  “Oh, and assess both?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Mama and Lydia will now be busy elsewhere.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Elizabeth, but it is very important to Richard. He will follow through with his love in any case, but—“

  “But if they approve his opportunities improve.”

  “His opportunities to bring a more secure future to Miss Catherine and all her family—yes, I’m afraid that is true.”

  “I see,” Elizabeth said slowly.

  “Don’t be too disappointed in the colonel. Be mad at me. I agreed that Miss Lydia and to some extent your mother might embarrass Miss Kitty at a party for the peerage.”

  Elizabeth breathed a sigh. “And so they would.”

  “You concur?”

>   “I do. Good planning, Mr. Darcy. I shall also be assessing—the Earl and Countess—to see if they measure up to your accolades.”

  “They will, Miss Elizabeth. I’m not worried. We shall of course ask Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and anyone else in town you prefer.”

  “I know no one else in London besides Aunt Maddie and Uncle Edward. Thank you for including them. They will enjoy meeting the Matlocks.”

  “I shall send them an invitation tonight, as well as an invitation to the Theatre Royal Tuesday and the Opera Wednesday. Can you drop them a note explaining our need for secrecy? It might seem strange coming from me.”

  “Certainly. They have a nanny and so should be free to join us. I wrote them of course at first asking to stay at their house, but in my second letter I requested they keep their evenings free.”

  “Let’s go to my study and write them. I’ll send a runner straight away. He can wait for their response.”

  “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said quietly.

  “Yes, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Could I have a real kiss now before the others miss us?”

  Darcy wrapped his arms around Elizabeth and kissed her forehead, each cheek and her chin, then pulling her close and tight kissed her lips, parting them with his tongue, and after savoring their sweet taste, slipped his tongue inside. Elizabeth gasped, but played with his tongue with her own and bravely entered his mouth.

  Darcy stepped away. “Marry me, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, I think I shall.”

  Darcy held her close in a warm embrace, his lips in her hair, hers on his lapel. Their breathing was loud and catchy.

  Finally realizing their compromising situation, Darcy stepped away. “Let’s find your father.”

  “Let’s.”

  Darcy went to the door and peeked out. No one was in the hall. “Go in with the ladies. I’ll have Cameron ask Mr. Bennet to meet me in the library.”

  She agreed, but, as she started to slip away toward the front parlor, she reminded Darcy, “Don’t forget the invitations to the Gardiners.”

  “I’ll write them about all three occasions before I summon your father. Then I’ll ask Cameron to bring the missive to you for your note, before he sends it on to Gracechurch Street.”

  “Good,” Elizabeth said, flushed and joyous, before she walked briskly down the hall.

  Ten minutes later Darcy rang for his butler. “Mr. Cameron, please take this letter to Miss Elizabeth in the parlor. Then when she has added a note on it to her aunt, have it delivered to the Edward Gardiners, Gracechurch Street, and have your runner wait for a reply.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And ask Mr. Bennet to join me in the library for a brief drink before we rejoin the ladies. Do it quietly. I only want Mr. Bennet.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shortly a knock sounded on the door.

  “Enter,” Darcy said, rising and walking toward the door.

  “Darcy, Cameron said that you wished to speak to me privately. Has it to do with your generous gift to Mrs. Bennet and Lydia?” Mr. Bennet said, obviously diverted.

  “I certainly need to explain that, Bennet. Would you care for a port? I have this special stash—“

  “Never turn down port, my boy.” Darcy went to the shelves and pulled out two large encyclopedias. He opened a hidden door and extracted a very elegant bottle of port. He poured the bright red liquid into two crystal glasses. “To special occasions!” Darcy toasted. They clinked their glasses of port together.

  Mr. Bennet smiled with appreciation, as he sipped. Darcy explained, “I actually have two confessions, sir. I’ll begin with the obvious one. I wanted to entice Mrs. Bennet and Lydia away for Thursday night.”

  “I assumed as much. But since my curiosity is getting the best of me, I’m afraid I must inquire: why?”

  “My aunt and uncle, the Earl and Countess of Matlock, are having a dinner dance that night to meet Miss Catherine and her family.”

  “Kitty? The Earl and Countess?”

  “The Matlocks are Colonel Fitzwilliam’s parents.”

  “Oh-h.”

  “Richard and I were afraid . . . “

  Mr. Bennet held up his hand. “Say no more, young man. You and the colonel made a splendid decision.”

  “We will not exactly extend the invitation to the other ladies until Thursday after Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Phillips and Miss Lydia leave for the hotel. We will tell Bingley, but no one else at his house.”

  “Wise.”

  “However, I instructed Madame DePre to fashion tea dresses for Elizabeth, Jane, Mary and Kitty. Georgiana too of course. They don’t know. The dresses will arrive Thursday afternoon. A surprise!”

  “The kind of surprise that ladies enjoy.”

  “As to my second confession, I have a strong feeling you already have already guessed. I am in love with Miss Elizabeth.”

  “I know, but . . . “

  “Tonight she accepted my proposal of marriage.”

  “She did? Elizabeth accepted a proposal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you cast a spell?”

  “It actually took the form of a kiss.”

  “Must have been some kiss.”

  “We thought so.”

  Mr. Bennet got up, as did Darcy. “Welcome to the family, Fitzwilliam.” The two men embraced.

  “Father.”

  “Son.”

  *****

  The next morning Darcy and Bingley arranged for Mrs. Bennet and Lydia to take a curricle ride through Hyde Park, while the other ladies and the gentlemen rode on horseback along the trails of the park. Darcy also sent his carriage for Mrs. Gardiner, who had decided to try her hand at a little horseback riding.

  “It’s been years,” she said to the girls, as they waited in the Darcy House stable yard.

  “Aunt Maddie, Kitty, Mary and I are beginners. You’ll fit right in.”

  Meanwhile Darcy conferred with the stable lads and in concert they selected appropriate mares for each lady. The lads began placing side saddles on the mares. Harvey, Bingley’s coachman, had driven the Bingley house guests to Darcy House, so he was assigned the duty of driving the two ladies in the curricle.

  “Harvey, meet us at the Parisian Pastry Shop on the other side of the park at twelve noon,” Bingley directed. “Show the ladies Kensington Palace, while you’re circling through the park.”

  “Oh, Kensington Palace.” Mrs. Bennet almost swooned at the prospect. “Perhaps we’ll see the royals walking on the grounds.”

  “Not likely,” Harvey said under his breath, and, clicking his tongue and touching the horses lightly with his whip, he drove out of the stable yard down the pathway toward Park Lane.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Bennet exuded, waving good-bye.

  Lydia straightened her bonnet and sneered, “None of the gentlemen deigned to ride with us.” Just then a dapper young man of four and twenty passed them on the back lane, riding a large gray steed. He tipped his hat and turned into the Darcy House stable yard. Lydia yelled, “O-o, who is that? Let’s go back.”

  “I’d say not,” Harvey replied. “I’ve my directions from Mr. Bingley, Miss. He says go to the park, so to the park we go.”

  *****

  “Viscount Miles,” Darcy welcomed, after the curricle rounded the corner out of sight. “I am so glad that you could join us.”

  The Viscount dismounted and stood tall and handsome among the horses and the riders-to-be. Darcy turned to the others and introduced his guest. “The Viscount is an old friend, well actually a young friend, from Derbyshire. He and his brother are in town for a few weeks following the Michaelmas ceremony at the cathedral. Miles is a skilled horseman and has agreed to assist Miss Mary with a riding lesson.”

  The Viscount nodded, a smile spread across his face, gazing at the pretty assortment of ladies, wondering which was to be his pupil. “Miss Mary, may I introduce your tutor, the Viscount Miles Heyburn?”

  Mary curtseyed. She looked incredibly pretty. Her n
ew riding habit was becomingly tailored to accent her youthful figure, and her hat was tilted at a fashionable angle on well-coiffed curls. She did have a new pair of glasses, but with no reading on this morning’s agenda, she had left them in her room. Hence her hazel eyes shone as never before, below long, lush lashes.

  The Viscount smiled, pleased at the appearance of his riding partner. He bowed deeply. “Miss Mary, shall I help you mount?”

  “Oui.”

  “Oh, beauty and French in one package,” the Viscount complimented, smiling even more broadly.

  “Je parle un peu de français, mais merci beaucoup.

  Viscount Miles assisted Mary from the mounting block onto the side saddle and adjusted her stirrups. Then, remounting, he led her and her gentle bay mare across the bricks to the passageway beyond.

  Mr. Bennet, Georgiana, Bingley and Jane took their cue and trotted off in style with Mrs. Gardiner close behind.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, bringing a pretty roan to the mounting post, and helping Elizabeth to sit the horse comfortably.

  “Miss Catherine,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, leading a small black mare by her bridle to where Kitty stood in anticipation. The colonel picked Kitty up and placed her expertly in proper position. “Too bad we’ve no bugle. Let’s go,” he cheered.

  The lessons went well. Kitty and Elizabeth were athletic. They soon lost their fear and cantered down lanes. “Cantering is easier than trotting,” Elizabeth said. “Trotting is a lot of work. It jostles one more.”

  “If you’re into cantering, you’re on your way to jumping,” Darcy observed.

  What Darcy did not observe was Wickham in the forest, holding Callie by her bridle, while he assessed the general activity of the Bennets and their escorts.

  Yesterday evening after careful consideration, Wickham had decided he had no intention of kidnapping one of the ladies again. The threshold for success was too low with Colonel Fitzwilliam actively on board. Darcy was also now apparently irritated beyond measure, maybe to the point of calling for an actual duel.

  Wickham had tried to look at the situation through Darcy’s eyes last night, as he reclined on his bed, cogitating his next move. Darcy was, after all, still somewhat mad about the Georgiana episode, reasonably so, Wickham admitted to himself. Now, directly after calming down a little from that affront, Darcy found the same old friend and classmate, once again insinuating himself into his life, this time stealing women he admired right under his nose and then bribing him over it. Wickham could understand why Darcy’s nerves were frayed at the ends.