Darcy's Match

by Kate Bedlow

  Elizabeth met him at the salon door. She squeezed his arm lovingly and addressed the earl, their highest-ranking male guest. “My lord, will you do me the honor of taking me in to table? If you care to wait here, I shall be with you in two minutes.”

  Feeling magnanimous, Darcy refrained from gloating about Georgiana and Somersea. Instead, he gave his wife Midwinter’s message of regret from the rectory.

  “Miss Charity insisted he attend and bring back reports of the evening. You know how she likes the tattle. And Mr. Bonney has agreed to take on Lambton while Drake steps in for his uncle.”

  “So all is in hand.” Elizabeth smiled happily. “Until the next disaster.”

  Did that mean she knew about Georgiana and Kett or that she was yet blissfully ignorant? She circulated among their guests, comfortable with all, high and low, letting each gentleman know which lady he was to take in.

  Taking the commodore aside, she suggested he take Mrs. Bennet in to table—a task he undertook with gusto. Darcy’s mother-in-law blushed with pleasure as Commodore Harrington stood behind her and, with a sailor’s confidence, draped her fringed India shawl over her shoulders then offered his arm.

  “Carley, you will have to forgo taking Mary in tonight,” Elizabeth told his cousin with a laugh. “As she is now Mrs. Quartermaine, you would be accused of bad taste, sitting down to table with your own wife, and everybody knows you have the best taste in the world. Be a dear and escort Miss Bingley, if you will.”

  Darcy’s heart swelled with pride in his lovely wife. He wanted to steal her away this very moment to have all to himself.

  It appeared Alice Grenway would be poor Midwinter’s dining companion. The Grenways’ eldest daughter was beautiful and had impeccable manners, but Darcy did not think the vicar particularly liked her. He was certainly a good sport about it, however, as Elizabeth approached him, Collins, and Mr. Bonney with Alice on her arm. Midwinter squared his shoulders and affected a pleasant smile, while Miss Grenway’s smile was more of the predatory kind.

  But instead of the vicar, Elizabeth spoke to the curate. “Sir, will you kindly take my friend in to dine? My husband tells me you will be helping out at Lambton church while Mr. Clackston is indisposed. I believe you will find Miss Grenway one of your most helpful parishioners. You must become acquainted.”

  Disappointment flitted over Alice’s face then disappeared. One did not argue with one’s hostess, especially when the hostess was Mrs. Darcy.

  As for Midwinter? The fellow rather stoically allowed himself to be led over to Georgiana and enlisted as her escort.

  Chapter 18

  Georgiana used to escape crowded suppers in this very room when she was a girl. But she was now a grown woman of twenty, and grown women of twenty did not duck under dining tables, crawl past so many boots and slippers, and sneak away, shielded by a sympathetic and obliging footman. Grown women, especially those of rank and privilege, smiled and behaved themselves.

  But it was so very difficult with Mr. Midwinter seated on her right while Lord Somersea, directly across the table, kept looking at her so meaningfully.

  His lordship had gallantly escorted Lydia to dinner. If his purpose was to please Georgiana by looking after her friend, he had been successful. They were having a lark, laughing at something she could not hear. She might be able to relax if his lordship would only stop smiling at her as if they shared a secret.

  Which, of course, they did not.

  To Georgiana’s dismay, she had learned the subject of their meeting in the ballroom antechamber last night was no secret, at least not among the servants. Gilliam had told her everybody expected an announcement at any time. Perhaps even here, at the Feast of the Epiphany.

  Everybody might be limited to the servants, though she could not be sure. After falling asleep near four this morning, she had awakened at two and breakfasted in her room. She had seen no one, aside from Gilliam and a housemaid or two, until coming down to the salon.

  At first she was sure the other ladies had heard the gossip—not by anything said, but by their expressions. Mrs. Bennet’s knowing smile. Lydia’s pretended innocence.

  But then Lizzy asked Mr. Midwinter to take her in to table. She knew about the Day of the Kiss. She had been there! She must not know of Lord Somersea’s offer. Georgiana’s sister-in-law was sharply clever and a wit, but she was not unkind. She would not cruelly give Drake false hope.

  Kett laughed at another of Lydia’s jokes. Mr. Midwinter had said nothing beyond yes and no since they sat down, but then Alice Grenway was on his other side and had monopolized him at every moment.

  His silence did not lessen the effect of his presence. Georgiana felt it keenly with his every move. When he turned her way to answer one of Fitzwilliam’s questions, she quivered inside as the low vibration of his voice washed over her. When he turned away to attend to Miss Grenway, it felt like a betrayal.

  What did Mr. Midwinter know? Had he heard the rumors?

  During the first course, Kett had smiled at her with tender happiness salted with just enough possessiveness that anyone with half a brain could intuit what he was thinking. Drake had far more than half a brain. He had noticed, and she had felt his immediate withdrawal. He had been nothing but cool politeness from then to the clearing away of the final course.

  She did not think she would make it through the Twelfth cake.

  “Mr. Midwinter’s father was a man of the navy.” Cousin Richard was speaking with the commodore, yet it seemed as though he wished to ingratiate himself with Drake. “I used to regret not going to sea instead of the dragoons. The prize money that supplements an officer’s pay packet is nothing to sneeze at.”

  “A fleeting regret, I am sure.” Cousin Carley chimed in cheerfully. He and Richard had served together in the army and discovered they were related after Carley saved Richard’s life. “I myself never once considered the navy. The life is far too grueling and the prizes unpredictable.”

  “From what I hear, Quartermaine, you more than made up for lost prizes at the card tables,” Fitzwilliam said.

  “Sadly, the Belleisle took very few prizes.” Drake spoke as if to himself, but Commodore Harrington was listening closely to the conversation.

  “Ah, yes. The Belleisle. An unlucky ship,” he said. “Her luck changed for the better after Trafalgar, however, due in no small part to one of its officers. First Lieutenant Augustine Midwinter. That was your father, I take it?”

  “You have heard of him, sir?”

  “Every able seaman and officer who fought that glorious and dreadful day knows his name. I heard the tale from Hargood himself, the ship’s captain. Midwinter was a hero. The ship was dismasted, but Midwinter made sure the flag did not fall and rallied the crew to persevere until a rescue was at hand. He died instantly, if it is of consolation, when a loosened spar fell from rigging demolished by cannon fire.”

  “It is consoling to know he did not suffer,” Drake said quietly. “I thank you, sir.”

  With all her heart, Georgiana longed to comfort him. Surreptitiously, she reached under the table and squeezed his hand. He stilled but did not pull away. Rather, he turned his hand over and gently squeezed hers in acknowledgement.

  “I knew it!”

  Caroline Bingley’s shriek filled the room, and Georgiana froze. Discovered!

  “Oh, yes! There it is!” Caroline went on, holding up a spoon containing something small and round and brown. “The clove! I am villain this year. Last year I was the fool. It is curious that I am singled out for such honors. I only mention it!”

  Georgiana blew out a breath in relief and quickly withdrew from Drake’s hand. In her haste, she scooped up a rather too-large forkful of Twelfth cake.

  Caroline rolled her eyes—then narrowed her gaze at Cousin Richard, who was smiling like the cat who ate the cream. “Someone has arranged, somehow, for this to happen.”

  “Perhaps to someone, Miss Bingley, you are a villain,” Lydia said. “I have heard that you keep your
heart locked up with a golden pin—”

  “Lydia!” Lizzy frowned disapprovingly, but Georgiana caught the glimmer of enjoyment in her sister-in-law’s eye.

  “—which is a very cruel thing. Would you not agree?”

  “Well said, Miss Lydia.” Lord Farley raised his glass to her, then looked at Caroline. “Perhaps someone will not rest until he finds the magic words to break through that golden pin.”

  Caroline’s eyes widened and then, almost imperceptibly, softened.

  “Wha thuh dickenth?” Georgiana felt her face go red. She was sitting there with a mouthful of cake that contained something inedible. There was nothing for it but to pull the thing out, a longish piece of… “It is… lace?”

  In the silence, Lydia’s puzzled frown melted away.

  “Lace… the rag?”

  The general bewilderment became shock. Miss Georgiana Darcy, the tart? Why? Could this possibly be on purpose? And who would make sure she received the rag in the Twelfth cake?

  Tongues must be wagging about her and Lord Somersea meeting alone together last night!

  And they would be justified. Why had he compromised her so? Why had she allowed it? No, it was wrong of her to blame Kett. She had needed air, and he was only trying to help. But he should not have closed the door.

  “Oh, but that is the biggest joke of all, don’t you see?” Mrs. Bennet’s voice sounded even louder than usual, for the entire table was blanketed by a horrified, stunned hush. “For there is no one more virtuous in all the world than our dearest girl!”

  “Well said, my dear.” The commodore looked at Mrs. Bennet admiringly, while relieved and good-natured agreement spilled out of the other guests.

  “Hear, hear.” Fitzwilliam raised his glass to his mother-in-law. For the first time Georgiana could recall, her brother seemed genuinely grateful for Mrs. Bennet’s presence.

  It was kind of them all to explain away Georgiana getting the rag and being the tart. It would feel like a joke to her, if only… if only she had not behaved terribly with George Wickham, if only she had not brazenly begged Drake to kiss her, and if only she was not about to accept the proposal of yet a third gentleman with whom her name could be linked.

  Her famous virtue felt like a fraud.

  Drake saved her from her thoughts then, holding up a small stick for all to see. “My Twelfth cake discovery, on the other hand, seems sadly apropos.”

  “Oh dear, Mr. Midwinter, you got the twig!” Lydia laughed a little more loudly than was called for. “You are the fool then.”

  “I own it without argument.” Drake smiled good-naturedly.

  If he and Lydia had conspired to divert attention from Georgiana, they could not have devised a better plan, for the conversation now shifted as all who knew the vicar rushed to offer their assurances that he was no fool.

  The conversation moved on to the horror of Mr. Collins’s discovery of the bean and his happily proclaiming himself king for the day, followed by a very long discourse from that man on the geniality of such pleasant country traditions.

  Mr. Midwinter allowed himself to be occupied by Alice Grenway until the party adjourned to the music room where Georgiana was asked to open the instrument. She played two pieces, quite aware throughout both that Drake was sitting very close to Miss Grenway.

  Chapter 19

  Before leaving her earlier, Fitzwilliam had opened the bedcurtains, and Elizabeth became aware of the crackle of the fire mixed with the sound of a spoon clinking against china. The past two days had been full, and she was still very tired, but she stretched and struggled up to sit against her pillows. There was nothing so cozy as a winter morning at Pemberley.

  She felt comfortable and snug and lazy—until the memory came back. She had retired halfway through the entertainments last night, or rather this morning, and Fitzwilliam had joined her an hour later, bringing the intelligence that Lord Somersea had made Georgiana an offer.

  Whether she had accepted or refused him, not even Morton knew.

  The mantel clock chimed a quarter past one. Elizabeth certainly had no desire to arise and dress for church, but she would go mad with wondering about Georgie’s answer.

  “Morton, you are a godsend.”

  Her maid had brought up a breakfast tray and now handed her a cup of tea. Elizabeth sighed over the weak beverage, preferring coffee, but Morton knew from the last time that even the mere aroma of coffee made Elizabeth feel ill when she was pregnant.

  The door to her chamber swung open, and Fitzwilliam returned in a burst of happy energy, toting their daughter on his shoulders.

  “Darling, look! I captured this wild animal racing down the hallway.” Janie giggled gleefully as her papa pulled her down into his arms and tickled her. “Charles caught its cousin, another little wild thing named Tommy.”

  “Tommy good boy!”

  Poor Janie had got the idea in her head that Charles and Jane’s son was a good child and that she was somehow… not. It was difficult to say differently when she was constantly getting into mischief!

  There was something wonderful in the way Fitzwilliam laughed at Janie’s silliness and delighted in all her antics. It made Elizabeth’s heart swell with happiness, and she would not interfere for the world, though she knew she ought to see that her daughter was better behaved.

  She was the responsible parent! How on earth had such a thing come about?

  “Charles tells me he and Jane have decided to return to Blue Heather Court today. They are making ready to depart even now.”

  “Then God will forgive me staying behind from church to say my goodbyes to my sister,” Elizabeth said. “And I am fairly confident Mr. Midwinter will not report my absence to the rector.” She had always felt that Mr. Clackston was a more severe critic than God would ever be.

  But it was best for another reason she not attend services today. Better an empty place in the family box than the spectacle of Mrs. Darcy losing her breakfast in front of everybody—an observation she kept to herself at the moment.

  “I will miss them,” Fitzwilliam said, “but with the house so full at present, I do understand it is too oppressive to Jane in her condition.”

  “Yes, my dear.” Elizabeth smiled inwardly. Pregnancy had many treacherous aspects, but one of its secret delights was the license it granted a woman to indulge almost any whim on account of her condition. If Jane desired to be at home, to sleep in her own bed, to eat food prepared by her own cook, Charles would not deny her.

  Not that Charles denied Jane anything ever, but that was another matter.

  Elizabeth sighed lazily and considered Fitzwilliam, so delighted with his child. He will be thrilled to learn of my own interesting condition. Only a few more days, the majority of their guests would be gone, and she would reveal her good news then.

  “Our box at St. Mary’s will be full today.” Fitzwilliam tossed Janie onto the bed and the little girl scrambled up to give her mama a slobbery kiss.

  “Good morning, darling.” Elizabeth hugged her daughter, who slipped away again as her papa handed her a piece of toast from the tray.

  “Morton, it appears I won’t be dressing for church, but would you still order a bath? I smell smoke in my hair from the gentlemen’s cigars last night. So disgusting.”

  “Sgussting!” Janie made a face that had them all laughing.

  As the door closed behind Morton, Fitzwilliam said oh so nonchalantly, “I suppose I shall invite Kett to sit in our box, since your absence will leave an open space.”

  “Why do you say that?” Elizabeth sat up straighter. “Have you seen Georgie this morning? Did she say anything?”

  “I have not seen my sister today. Only…” Fitzwilliam took hold of her free hand and kissed her fingers one by one. “Kett did ask for a private interview. I told him today after church would be convenient.”

  “I see.” Elizabeth did not try to hide her disappointment.

  She sipped her tea, now cold as well as weak and as unsatisfactory as th
is conversation.

  “Midwinter has missed his chance. I told you my thoughts on the subject after the shooting party Friday. And you putting them together last night proved me right. The vicar spent more time talking to Miss Grenway, whom I know for a fact he does not fancy. What does it say of his regard for Georgiana that he would rather pay attention to Alice Grenway?”

  “Only that he…”

  “Yes?” Fitzwilliam kissed her hand and smiled up at her, triumphant but not cruel. No man could appear cruel stretched out on his wife’s bed with their little daughter sitting on him as if he were her pony. “That he what?”

  “That for some reason Mr. Midwinter, despite his feelings for Georgiana, has decided not to pursue her.”

  “He may have accepted what you unaccountably resist, that Somersea is the better match.”

  “To outward appearances, perhaps.” Elizabeth pulled her hand away so that she could wave off the comment. “Though not a popular notion, I still believe love, where there is mutual respect, is quite a proper foundation for marriage. I only mention it.”

  A rap on the door saved Fitzwilliam from having to answer.

  “Enter,” Elizabeth called out.

  “Ah, there is our darling girl!” Nanny Cross had been informed by Mr. Bingley that Mrs. Darcy’s chamber would be just the place to look for her missing charge.

  Janie would only allow herself to be taken away after learning that Tommy was leaving and she had better run if she wanted to say goodbye. Even then, she found it necessary to give her mama and papa many kisses before she could go.

  “Love and respect are not always enough.” Fitzwilliam said when they were alone, not forgetting their conversation. “In fact, they rarely are. You cannot make something a rule merely because it has proven true for us.”