by P. O. Dixon
Lord Latham returned to his home in time to find his sister and Elizabeth having tea. He darted his head inside the doorway, hoping for a quick courteous greeting that he might retire to his own affairs.
“Trevor! I did not expect you back this soon. You do remember my dear friend Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes, I do. What a pleasure it is to see you again, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He bowed slightly whilst retaining the position he had staked out in the doorway.
Lady Gwendolen placed her cup on the table, crossed the room, linked arms with his lordship, and cajoled him into the room. She led him to an empty spot next to Elizabeth. “Will you join us for tea?”
“I suppose I must.” He looked at Elizabeth and smiled. “Are you enjoying the Season, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
Gwendolen handed her brother a cup. “Must there be such formality, Trevor? Are we not all friends? Surely, Miss Elizabeth is a fitting appellation.”
“Your ladyship, I believe that is the lady’s decision.” Lord Latham graced Elizabeth with a mischievous smile. “How shall I address you, my friend?”
Lady Gwendolen, though pleased with the flirtatious tone, raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Miss Elizabeth, my lord. It pleases your sister. It pleases me, as well.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” he repeated, whilst holding Elizabeth’s stare. He glanced at his sister for a second, “You are correct, Miss Elizabeth is much more fitting.”
Smiling, Gwendolen approved of the budding attraction. “I have news. Miss Elizabeth has accepted our invitation to the country.”
“Lady Gwendolen,” Elizabeth said, “you know I have done no such thing. I must first speak with Lady Susan.”
“Then it is settled, for Lady Susan has agreed to join us, as well.” Lady Gwendolen smiled. “This will be a grand occasion for us all, will it not?”
Lord Latham and Elizabeth exchanged long glances. Lady Gwendolen dared not say anything to interrupt their silent discussion.
Will it not, indeed?
* * *
Caroline barged through the doorway and demanded her say. “Charles, is it true that you are going to Lord Latham’s country party?”
“Were you listening in on our conversation, Caroline?”
“Indeed, I was. How else am I to find out what you are planning?” Caroline looked enraged. “How were you invited to Lord Latham’s country estate, yet I was not? In light of that, how can you even consider his invitation?”
“You can hardly expect me to deny his lordship’s request once he has deigned to bestow it!”
“What about me? I have yet to receive a request. Lord Latham and his sister have slighted our family in not inviting me.”
“Leave it, Caroline. You do not know either of them! Why would they invite you to their home for a week?”
“Did they not invite you? Why on earth do you suppose they would do such a thing?”
Darcy grew tired of Caroline’s tirade. Indeed, theirs was a love-hate relationship, if ever there were such a thing. She obviously loved pretending that he did not hate her, and he loved pretending that he did. “Miss Bingley, allow me to solve the mystery. Lord Latham invited Charles because I asked him to.” He stood from his chair. “And before you ask, no, I will not impose upon Lord Latham’s hospitality by suggesting he invite you as well.”
Darcy turned his attention to Bingley. “I shall see you at White’s tomorrow. Good night.”
* * *
Elizabeth suspected Lady Gwendolen of playing matchmaker. She did not mind. The prospect of becoming better acquainted with his lordship intrigued her.
Almost done with her packing for the trip to Latham Hall, Elizabeth perused her latest letter from her sister Mary one more time, jumping right to the parts that interested her the most.
... Miss King is gone down to her uncle in Liverpool. She is gone to stay. Lydia asserts that Mr. Wickham is safe. He now spends more time than ever in the comfort of Longbourn. Lydia’s behaviour is even more unguarded than before, and my words of admonishment to our father remain unheeded, for he and Mama believe Mr. Wickham to be the best of men. I suppose I have seen no evidence he is not, though I cannot help but wonder about Miss King’s uncle’s decision to send for her, thereby removing her from our environs in such a precipitous manner.
Elizabeth sighed. Poor Mr. Wickham. She skimmed the pages for other happenings and settled once again on words of Jane’s situation.
... Our dearest Jane says she is quite over Mr. Bingley, but I prefer to think otherwise. By her actions, she fares no better, leaving me to wonder at the veracity of our mother’s sentiments. Might one die of a broken heart? Please send word of your success as regards Mr. Bingley.
Your loving sister,
Mary
Elizabeth folded the letter and placed it inside the bundle of letters she had received from the rest of her family since she had arrived in town. Letters from everyone save Jane.
“Everything will be resolved before much longer, dearest Jane,” Elizabeth said aloud. “For the first time in weeks, I shall have an audience with Mr. Bingley, finally giving birth to truth and righting this horrible injustice. How happy you shall be.
“Soon.”
Chapter 8
Darcy and Lord Latham rode along slowly, allowing their prized steeds to recover after a hard, fast stint, moments earlier. Darcy had arrived late after the other guests had retired the evening before. Lord Latham and he had drinks and soon parted with plans for an early-morning ride. His late arrival had been a cause for concern for Lady Gwendolen, and she had insisted that her brother find out what his intentions were. Lord Latham had grown weary of trying to ascertain his friend’s sentiments, but as Darcy had never rejected the notion of a possible alliance with her ladyship outright, he thought he might as well be done with the matter. The sooner the two had the requisite talk, the better.
“You must know that the purpose of this country soiree is to bring you one step closer to declaring yourself to Gwendolen.”
Darcy cast Lord Latham a not-that-again warning glance. The two gentlemen had forged their bonds of friendship over the years, and had even enjoyed a private joke as regarded their kinship; Lord Latham may have enjoyed the title, but Darcy enjoyed the fortune inherent in being the heir to Pemberley. While aristocracy aspired to power, financial fortune equalled power. He had always been there for Darcy when his father’s favourite godson, George Wickham, had been too much to bear. On more than one occasion, Darcy went to Lord Latham’s family estate on holidays, in lieu of Pemberley, to spare himself the grief of seeing Wickham ingratiate himself into the elder Mr. Darcy’s good graces. Lord Latham was certain that either would do most anything for the other.
Reading his friend’s wary expression, he silently apologised. “You know how this is with Gwendolen. I must have something to report to her.”
“Then, shall we consider that you have honoured your obligation towards your sister.”
“For now. You are not alone in my sister’s schemes. As I told you, she is bent upon making a match for me, as well.”
“Pray tell, which charming young debutante does she have in mind?”
“I am fairly certain you do not know the young lady. I barely know her, myself. I have met her only once, twice if you count my brief introduction to her at the Langley ball. If my sister has her say, I suppose that will change this week. I do not imagine I will be able to put if off any longer.” Lord Latham considered the task ahead. He smiled.
“She is lovely. In fact, she is rather fascinating. I shall not consider it such a burden. However, from what I can tell she is not the type of woman whom I might seek as the next mistress of Latham Hall.”
“How can you be certain? You admit to knowing little about her.”
“My heart answers to another. I dare say she is not the type of woman who would turn a blind eye to my relationship with the exquisite Juliette, and I doubt I shall ever give her up ... willingly.”
; As per his wont whenever the lovely widow’s name was introduced into their conversations, Darcy held his tongue.
“I am well aware you do not approve of my relationship with Juliette.”
“I imagine the heart wants what it wants,” Darcy said. Lord Latham was stunned by his friend’s remark. Darcy had been there during his darkest moment. He had seen what losing her to an older, richer, more powerful man nearly four years ago had done to him, how it had changed him. In vain, Darcy had tried to encourage him to move on, to accept what would never be, to forget her. The elder nobleman had since passed away. This was the first indication in years that Darcy’s grievances against the Duchess were subsiding.
“Indeed, my heart yearns for Juliette. I am happy you understand. Mind if I ask when you became broadminded in that regard?”
Ignoring the question, Darcy said, “Does this rather sensible young woman have a name?”
“Yes. Miss Elizabeth Bennet—”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet—”
“Look! My sister and Miss Elizabeth are just up the lane. Shall we join them?” Lord Latham raced ahead before Darcy could protest.
The first to arrive, Lord Latham jumped down from his horse and greeted them. “Good morning, ladies. What a pleasant surprise this is.”
He could not help noticing how Elizabeth’s smile froze in place with the arrival of the second horseman. His friend climbed down from his stallion and approached the party. Her eyes rested upon Darcy’s eyes. His eyes fixed upon Elizabeth’s. Lady Gwendolen’s fixed upon Elizabeth’s, as well.
“Mr. Darcy! What are you doing here?”
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said whilst bowing. “I am Lord Latham’s guest.”
Their eyes posed the questions their lips would not. Lord Latham felt as if he and his sister were intruding upon a private moment.
“Do you know Mr. Darcy?”
Given her silence, he wondered if she had heard his sister’s question.
“Yes, Lady Gwendolen ... a little. We met in Hertfordshire.” She seemed uneasy.
Lord Latham looked at his friend for some sort of explanation. Never had he observed Darcy behold another woman as he beheld Elizabeth.
“Ladies, may we escort you to the house? My friend and I are famished. Perhaps you will join us for breakfast.”
Darcy extended his arm to Elizabeth. Lord Latham read the schooled response on his sister’s face to his friend’s neglect as she moved quickly to accept his proffered arm, as though he meant it for her. “We shall be delighted to have breakfast with you.” She turned towards Elizabeth. “Will we not, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said rather tentatively
Lord Latham offered his arm to Elizabeth, and she graciously accepted. The two couples preceded side by side, his lordship wondering at his friend’s preference for one woman over the other.
* * *
Later, Lady Gwendolen found him alone in his study managing last-minute estate business before attending to his other, far more pressing duties as lord of the manor house.
“Trevor, did you know that Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth had a prior acquaintance?”
“I was as surprised as you, dearest.”
“I hope this does not interfere with my plans.”
“Plans?”
“How many times must I remind you of my wish for Miss Elizabeth and you to become better acquainted during her stay? I expect you to use every opportunity to your advantage in that regard.”
“I will do what I can, for your sake. However, I make no promises, dearest, for I am more than capable of choosing my own wife.”
“Trevor, I have bad news, I am afraid. The Duchess’s arrival is delayed.”
He looked up from his papers. “Delayed? Why have I heard nothing of this before now?”
“I only received word before coming to see you.” She handed him the express. He took it and perused its contents. It displeased him.
His sister reached out to retrieve the letter he had tossed aside. “I dare say it is not the end of the world. A day or two delays her. She is not the only guest to be detained you know. The weather is not cooperating with my plans for the week.”
“Somehow, you do not sound disappointed.”
Gwendolen walked behind the desk and wrapped her arm about his shoulders. “Indeed, I am not; nor should this turn of events dishearten you. As long as each of our guests arrives safely, I shall not complain. In the meantime, we shall see that those who have arrived already are pleasantly engaged at all times.”
“I believe I can take a hint, dearest. Now, run along. I have matters to resolve before this evening’s festivities.”
After his sister quit the room, Lord Latham leaned back in his chair and pressed his hands along his temple. Reflecting on his last meeting with the Duchess, he supposed he might have pushed her too far in demanding that she accept his proposal of marriage. He sat straight in his chair and reached for a quill and paper. He composed a letter to her, declaring therein his resignation to the fact that what he wanted most would never be. Thus, his greatest wish was that they would remain as they ever were. He closed his ardent missive with the following words:
... Tarry in town no longer, my heart, for I am aching with the need to express the depths of my affection for you upon your safe arrival.
* * *
Darcy recalled how he had tried his best to mask his disappointment in having the wrong woman on his arm earlier that day. Except, she was not the wrong woman, was she? Had he not decided that he would take advantage of their time in the country to woo her ladyship, to see where it might lead? Had all his plans fled in the face of his heart’s true desire?
Upon spending time in the company of both Elizabeth and Lady Gwendolen for most of the morning, Darcy decided that the current week was not the time to act upon his plan. He simply enjoyed Elizabeth’s company too much to expend the energy it would take to distract himself from her long enough to woo Lady Gwendolen properly. Besides, Darcy was not pleased with the prospect of his friend being better acquainted with Elizabeth. Although a future between them was impossible, given the inferiority of her circumstances, he cared for her too much to stand by and allow what his friend probably had in mind. Darcy stewed as he observed Lord Latham speaking intimately with Elizabeth across the room, whilst he remained ensnared in lacklustre conversation with another guest, discussing politics, of all things.
Having fulfilled his obligation to Lady Gwendolen for the evening, speaking with her long enough to satisfy her expectations but not too much as to excite her hopes, Darcy wanted only to trade places with Lord Latham—to bathe in Elizabeth’s warm smiles and what he was certain was witty repartee.
“I concede to your greater wisdom,” Darcy said to his aristocratic companion the first chance he could. He placed his empty glass on the tray of a passing footman and strolled across the room.
“May I join you two?”
“As a matter of fact—”
Elizabeth interrupted his lordship’s rebuff. “You are more than welcome to join us, Mr. Darcy. Lord Latham and I are discussing Sir John Keats. I believe you were about to recite his latest piece, were you not, my lord?”
Darcy cast his friend a knowing smile. “Somehow, I am not surprised. My friend has a penchant for spewing poetry to those with the fortitude to bear it.”
“Forgive me, my friend, if I cannot help but share my passion for fine sonnets, especially in the presence of such beauty.”
Such flattery flowing from Lord Latham’s lips was but one factor in Elizabeth’s ready acquiescence to Mr. Darcy’s joining them. Lord Latham was everything a gentleman ought to be, his good looks exceeded only by his charms. Elizabeth suspected he was used to having his way.
She graced Darcy with a tantalising smile. “I am reminded of my initial meeting with Mr. Darcy, where there was a similar mention of poetry being the food of love.”
“Yes, and if I recall correctly, you declared it the surest way
of starving any fragile regard. In fact, I believe you offered the perfect remedy for encouraging affection.”
“Not that it affected you.”
“Excuse me, you two, I insist upon having my share of the conversation.”
“Of course, your lordship. I first met Mr. Darcy at an assembly where he danced with no one except the members of his own party.”
“Somehow, I do not find that surprising, knowing him as I do.”
“You may also recall that I have since taken advantage of every opportunity to make amends for our first meeting, have I not, Miss Elizabeth?”
A slight commotion on the other side of the room drew Lord Latham’s attention. “If you two will excuse me, this matter warrants my involvement.” He stepped away slowly and then paused to look back. “I hesitate to leave you alone with this gentleman.”
“Take your time. Miss Elizabeth is in good hands, I assure you.”
Lord Latham walked away, looking back once again in wonderment.
“Do you and your friend often speak to each other so, Mr. Darcy? Whatever does he mean in saying he hesitates to leave the two of us alone?”
“I am sure I do not know what he meant.”
Elizabeth harrumphed. “I am rather sure you do. I begin to ask myself which of the two of you is the most charming.”
“Are you laughing at me, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Heaven forbid.”
“Then might I assume you are flirting with me?”
“Assume what you like.”
“I assume you are. In fairness to you, I must tell you that no benefit will result.”
“Whatever do you mean, sir?”
“I am no more inclined to interfere in Bingley’s situation now than when you first asked.”
“I believe you would interfere soon enough if you thought it were in your own interest.”
