Richard had not related to her the alterations to his will, so his bequest had been a revelation when the solicitor had notified her. Her first thought had been to refuse the house and the income, which was unnecessarily generous. She understood his reasoning about the marriage contract, but they had not actually been married—although there were times she felt like his widow— and she did not believe herself to be entitled to his money or property.
Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had spent many hours persuading Elizabeth of the difficulties inherent in refusing the bequest. Ultimately, Elizabeth had been swayed by her knowledge that, on his deathbed, Richard’s concerns had been about her future. Refusing the bequest would be refusing his wishes for her.
The Gardiners had also advised that possessing an income might be necessary to her family. Although her father’s health had stabilized, he was still weak, and Mr. Collins would not hesitate to claim Longbourn once her father passed on.
Her mother fretted about their future and had relied on Mr. Bingley to care for her and the unmarried Bennet sisters. Jane, however, had confided to Elizabeth that Mr. Bingley’s business interests had suffered a setback, and Caroline’s spendthrift ways were costing him dearly. In fact, the Bingleys had recently sold their London house, and Jane had told Elizabeth that they might give up Netherfield in favor of a smaller house.
While the Bingleys’ situation was by no means dire, Elizabeth recognized that she could not in good conscience refuse an income that could support her family without imposing a burden on Charles and Jane. The money Richard had settled on her was comfortable but not extravagant; however, the townhouse was a valuable property, and Elizabeth could sell it should her family need assistance.
In the short term, the townhouse had provided a valuable refuge during this trying time. Peace and quiet were often in short supply in the bustling Gardiner household, but Elizabeth had desperately needed both to grieve and plan for her future. Over the past year, her aunt and uncle had repeatedly reassured her that she was not a burden to their household, but she was pleased to relieve them of their responsibility toward her.
Nevertheless, she was very conscious that she was in an odd position. At one and twenty, never married, she now owned and managed her own household. More than one person had insisted she needed a chaperone to live with her, but Elizabeth had demurred. She had no relatives to fulfil the role and did not wish to incur the expense of hiring someone.
As she strolled toward the dining room, she wondered what Mr. Darcy thought of her situation. The previous day, his demeanor had been grave and distant, but she could not imagine he approved of all her choices. Did he believe Thomas should have the townhouse? Did he think it was improper for a young woman to live alone in London? He observed rules of propriety and felt his family pride strongly. Yes, he probably disapproved of almost everything.
Elizabeth reminded herself to make allowances for Mr. Darcy’s feelings. His grief was fresh, while Elizabeth’s had been a daily companion for three weeks. Although Mr. Darcy was often difficult and unpleasant, he had always been a good friend to Richard, who had thought very highly of his cousin. At the very least, Mr. Darcy did not appear to treat her with the same degree of disdain as Richard’s parents or brothers.
Truth be told, Elizabeth was pleased to have the Darcys staying. Their presence was a reminder of happier times, and having visitors was a welcome distraction from the melancholy that sometimes threatened to weigh down her days.
Mr. Darcy was already seated at the breakfast table, a plate of food in front of him and a folded newspaper next to it. However, he was neither eating nor reading but was staring at nothing, apparently absorbed in his own thoughts.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked gently. He started out of his reverie. “I am sorry to startle you.”
“No, I … um …” He blinked rapidly, only slowly focusing his eyes on her. “That is … I fear I am not at my best this morning.” He peered down at his plate as if surprised to find food before him.
“Indeed. It is quite understandable,” she said softly. “I have experienced many such days lately.”
Mr. Darcy looked up from his food, and his blue eyes caught and held hers in a mesmerizing gaze. “Miss Elizabeth, I apologize if I did not adequately convey this sentiment yesterday, but I am sorrier than I can express. To lose someone you love is grievous. But to lose a fiancé before you even had an opportunity to wed …” He seemed at a loss for words and instead shook his head, massaging his forehead with one hand.
“Thank you for your kind words.” Elizabeth was uncertain how to respond to this more sensitive version of Mr. Darcy. How long until he reverted to his haughty, difficult demeanor?
He did not seem to require further response, so Elizabeth filled her plate from the sideboard and seated herself at the table. Across the table sat the empty chair Richard had favored. She blinked back tears and took a bite of her eggs, hoping Mr. Darcy did not notice her melancholy spirits.
It had grown no easier over the past three weeks to live without Richard. He had been her best friend, her confidante. Aside from Jane, there was no one in the world with whom she had felt so comfortable. Together, they had laughed at many of the foibles of the society of London. Richard had helped her navigate the sometimes treacherous societal waters, but he had never regarded the world of the ton very seriously, as the rest of his family was wont to do.
She found Mr. Darcy’s stern profile more than a little intimidating and wished she had Richard’s reassuring smile to encourage her. Mr. Darcy was an eternal conundrum to Elizabeth but had been an open book to Richard. He would have ably interpreted the man’s current mood and teased him out of any ill humor.
Elizabeth took a sip of coffee for strength. Richard was not here, but he would not wish her to shirk her duty as a hostess. Besides, Mr. Darcy might be a mystery, but at least solving the mystery would give her wits focus and distraction. “How is Georgiana?” she asked.
Mr. Darcy appeared to be pushing the food around on his plate rather than consuming it. “She was still asleep when I checked on her, and I thought it best not to awaken her. Unless of course, you need us to depart.”
“No, no. She is welcome to stay as long as she likes—and you as well.” Elizabeth silently castigated herself for sounding as if Mr. Darcy was an afterthought. Why did she always misspeak to the man? Fortunately, he appeared to take no notice.
Darcy swallowed some coffee and cleared his throat. “Last night, you said you felt alone in the house. Surely someone from your family could stay with you during this difficult time.”
Would Mr. Darcy never stop surprising her? With the dreadful news she had imparted the previous day, why had he given her living arrangements any consideration at all? “Unfortunately, no one can be spared. My mother and sister Mary are occupied with helping my father during his convalescence. Jane would have visited, but she is close to her confinement, and I did not think it wise for her to travel.”
“What of Mrs. Collins?”
Elizabeth gave a wan smile. “Lady Catherine objected most strenuously to my engagement to her nephew, so Mr. Collins has forbidden his wife to visit me.” Mr. Darcy made a noise which sounded disapproving. “My sister, Kitty, offered to come, but I declined. She would be less of a help than a hindrance. But of course, my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner live nearby. They are excellent people.”
Darcy frowned. Had she provoked his disdain already? “But they must be occupied with their own children.”
How did he even remember the Gardiners’ children? His unexpected concern was touching but also somewhat disconcerting. “Yes. Still, they have been most generous with their time and assistance.” Darcy still frowned. Did he think her family should do more for her? Did he believe she should not live alone? Perhaps he would rather she had not taken possession of his cousin’s house.
Mr. Darcy did not seem inclined to speak again. Elizabeth swallowed some coffee as she considered what to say next. “To be honest, some
quiet time for reflection has been welcome. The days of Richard’s illness were … frantic and difficult.” Mr. Darcy was silent, so she returned her attention to her plate. Oh, what could she say to him? He was always so inscrutable!
Perhaps a change of subject … “But, I am pleased you and Georgiana are returned. It will be good to have your company.” Oh dear, did that sound as if I expect Mr. Darcy to bear me company? Not that his visits were precisely unwelcome, but he was so unsettling and … How does he always manage to unnerve me so?
Mr. Darcy gave her a guarded look, then returned his gaze to his plate. “Yes, Georgiana will undoubtedly be a frequent visitor, and you will be a great comfort to each other.”
Apparently he did not anticipate visiting often, Elizabeth thought with relief. Very well, I can bear the deprivation.
However, she could not help wondering why he was not planning to visit. Perhaps he would seize this opportunity to sever his family’s association with a woman of such low connections. But, no, then he would discourage Georgiana from visiting her. Oh, he was such a vexing man!
Elizabeth was startled by a knock at the front door, followed by the sounds of Grayson, her butler, opening it and a chorus of male voices she immediately recognized. Ah, another welcome distraction! She smiled despite herself.
Chapter 7
Darcy scowled. Whoever the visitors in the entrance hall were, they were too early and too loud to be intruding on a house in mourning. Not to mention, too male. Certain Elizabeth would resent the discourtesy, he was surprised to see a slight smile playing about her lips. Clearly she recognized the intruders’ identities.
An all-too-familiar sensation pressed against his chest, speeding his heartbeat. Why were men visiting Elizabeth? The previous night, as he tossed unsleeping in his bed, Darcy had sorted through the emotions provoked by Richard’s death and come to a painful realization. He might have expected shock and grief to destroy—or at least lessen—his desire for Elizabeth, but it had not. His heart still contracted when he heard her voice, and now he ached with the need to alleviate her pain.
Thus was his guilt doubled and re-doubled. It made his stomach churn with nausea. Darcy not only lusted after his cousin’s fiancée, he lusted after his dead cousin’s fiancée, practically his widow. He should be comforting her, not desiring her, and certainly not reacting like a jealous beast at the thought of other men visiting her home. There must be a special level of hell reserved for his particular kind of betrayal.
The butler entered with a small smile. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but you may have surmised who is calling.”
Darcy suppressed a sigh. Only Elizabeth would have her servants addressing her with such familiarity after being the head of household for only a few weeks.
Elizabeth’s smile was more than tolerant. “Yes, Grayson. Please show them to the blue drawing room. I will be there directly.” Grayson left, closing the doors behind him, and Elizabeth looked back to Darcy. “Some of Richard’s friends have come to visit, as is their wont over the past weeks. But you must have pressing business matters and should not feel obligated to remain on my account.”
After nearly a year’s absence, Darcy did indeed have numerous matters of business that required immediate attention, but Napoleon’s army could not have prevented him from accompanying Elizabeth as she received an unknown number of male visitors. “I would be pleased to join you. I will remain until Georgiana is ready to depart in any event.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but Elizabeth merely nodded and led the way out of the breakfast room. As they crossed the entrance hall, Darcy’s entire body tensed as if he were preparing to defend Elizabeth from these other men. The savage side of his nature was asserting itself. Despite loathing the sensation, Darcy was helpless to stem the tide of jealousy.
Full of visitors, the blue drawing room appeared far smaller than Darcy recalled from his previous visit. He recognized most of the men as friends of Richard’s, although he knew none of them well. Lieutenant Johnson and Colonel Grant had served with his cousin on the continent; Richard had thought highly of both men. Gregory North, a friend of Richard’s from school, had the decency to bring his wife, a petite woman with dull brown hair. At least Elizabeth was not the only woman.
However, he had a difficult time not frowning at the fourth man, Lord Michael Kirkwood, the son and heir of a viscount in Surrey. Darcy knew Kirkwood the best since they often traveled in the same circles. He was tall and handsome, with a quick wit and pleasing manners.
Greetings were exchanged, and everyone settled into chairs or settees. A maid entered with refreshments. The conversation was amiable but in subdued tones and of little consequence. Nevertheless, Darcy noticed how the visit buoyed Elizabeth’s spirits; she smiled at little jokes, and some of the color returned to her face. No doubt Elizabeth had spent much time in the company of these men during her engagement to Richard.
Darcy distracted himself by marveling again at how similar Richard and Elizabeth had been in temperament, interests, and amiability! What could Darcy offer by comparison but a resentful temperament, taciturn disposition, and jealous heart? True, he could provide far more material advantage, but he now understood Elizabeth well enough to know fortune meant nothing to her. No, all he could have offered was a desperate, pathetic love—and that she did not need.
He would have preferred to believe his distaste for the visitors sprung from loyalty to Richard, but he must be honest with himself. Her fiancé, his cousin and best friend, was hardly dead a fortnight, and he still wanted her passionately, desperately. He disgusted himself. But his heart, treacherous organ, refused his command at every turn and insisted on beating only for Elizabeth.
Perhaps this time I will need to visit India. For two years.
Darcy forced his attention back to the conversation. The men were relating a story about a prank some years ago involving an acquaintance who raced horses. Kirkwood had taken over the narrative. “And Livingston never suspected a thing! Fitzwilliam had arranged it—” Kirkwood’s voice faltered as he glanced warily at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s head was tilted slightly to one side, and she regarded the man with a soft, open expression. “Pray, continue. If we attempt to avoid Richard’s name, I fear our conversation will be extremely stilted.” The accompanying smile was designed to set her visitors at ease. “I love to hear stories of his misspent youth.”
“Youth?” Colonel Grant said. “I believe Fitzwilliam was six and twenty at the time!” Subdued laughter followed this pronouncement. As Lord Kirkwood finished his story, Darcy wondered if the others recognized how neatly Elizabeth had rescued the situation. And, did they know what it cost her?
Mr. North launched into a tale about Fitzwilliam and a Latin instructor, which kept everyone amused for several minutes. The animation in Elizabeth’s face was not completely feigned and prevented Darcy from fully resenting the men’s presence. Accustomed to being surrounded by family, she was coping with a devastating loss all alone and must sometimes welcome company.
The visitors also fed her hunger for stories about her lost fiancé. She did not wish to forget Richard but to collect more memories of him to last the rest of her life. Darcy would give his entire fortune to inspire such love in a woman like Elizabeth!
As the visit drew to a close, Darcy scrutinized Elizabeth’s visitors. She valued them for their connection to her lost love, but it did not necessarily follow that the other visitors’ motivations were likewise honorable. Whatever fortune Richard had bequeathed to Elizabeth was likely sufficient to make her the target of fortune hunters. The very thought made him want to stand at her doorway with a loaded pistol.
Colonel Grant was a second son, like Richard, and needed to marry well. Darcy knew nothing of Lieutenant Johnson’s finances but intended to have them investigated. Kirkwood dressed well, and his lineage was impeccable, but rumors suggested his father had incurred large gambling debts. At least Mr. North could be acquitted of ulterior motives, unless he
planned to do away with his wife. Darcy’s lips twitched at the thought. Clearly, he was becoming excessively suspicious.
Whatever the visitors’ potential matrimonial hopes, Elizabeth demonstrated no particular interest in any of the men. Indeed, the visitors had roused smiles from her, but her merriment was a dim shadow of her former vivacity. Her face was strained; sadness blurred her eyes. Others might not notice, but he knew her grief ran deep.
Perhaps she might never overcome the pain of losing Richard. At least if she did not accept another offer of marriage, Darcy would be spared a repetition of that agony. That thought spurred an immediate sensation of guilt; he should wish her to be happy, no matter the personal cost to him.
The visitors did not stay overly long. After their departure, Darcy hoped to discover if Elizabeth evidenced any particular feelings toward one of them, but she immediately retired, pleading a headache. After worrying fruitlessly about Elizabeth’s health for some minutes, Darcy climbed the stairs to find Georgiana.
***
Elizabeth read again the letter which had appeared in that day’s post. It was from an unfamiliar solicitor. “Dear Miss Bennet … represent the interests of the Earl and Countess of Matlock … the estate of their late son …” With a growing sense of urgency, she finished the letter; unfortunately, she discovered she had accurately grasped its import on her first perusal.
From the doorway, Grayson cleared his throat, startling her. “Mr. and Miss Darcy,” he intoned. Elizabeth stifled a cry of dismay. Now was not the moment to encounter Mr. Darcy!
Since the Darcys’ return three weeks ago, Georgiana had been almost a daily visitor, but Mr. Darcy had been absent. Georgiana had credited urgent estate business, but Elizabeth thought it just as likely he was avoiding her.
Elizabeth placed the letter on the end table gingerly as if it had bitten her. She gritted her teeth. I will not weep! Blindly, she felt in her pocket for a handkerchief with which to dab her eyes. Only then did she realize she was not alone in the drawing room. In the doorway, two pairs of eyes were regarding her with concern.
Pride and Proposals Page 7
