Susie Darcy's Tenacious Nature

by Wendy Soliman

‘Spence and I have decided that he’s too good to be true,’ Susie added. ‘No one can be that perfect.’

  ‘Your Aunt Jane is.’

  ‘Ah, well there are exceptions to every rule.’

  ‘Lizzy, stop it!’ Aunt Jane’s cheeks turned pink. ‘I am not nearly the paragon you make me out to be.’ She poured more tea for them all. ‘It’s funny you should mention the name Tyrell, though. Emma’s neighbours,’ she said, referring to her daughter, now Mrs Anderson, ‘the Frobishers…you recall them?’

  Susie and her mother both nodded.

  ‘A charming young couple,’ Mama said. ‘They were in attendance when we last dined with Emma.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Frobisher called when I last visited Emma and she mentioned Mr Tyrell…the younger Mr Tyrell. She encountered him on a visit to London and gave much the same report of his person and manners as you just did. He created quite an impression.’

  ‘Oh, then Emma and Mr Anderson must attend our party,’ Mama said.

  ‘Thank you, Lizzy,’ Aunt Jane replied. ‘I will pass on your invitation and if they are not otherwise engaged I am sure they will be delighted to accept it.’

  ‘What else did Emma have to say about Mr Tyrell?’ Susie asked.

  ‘It seems he is on the point of matrimony.’ Susie was furious when her insides lurched. She would be surprised if such a personable young gentleman had not attracted the most eligible female within the entire ton. ‘It is not common knowledge yet, but Mrs Frobisher is the young lady’s particular friend and they correspond regularly, so naturally she is in Miss Fleming’s confidence.’

  ‘But not very good at keeping confidences if she made the news public,’ Mama remarked. ‘Who is this Miss Fleming?’

  ‘I’ve heard that name,’ Susie said. ‘But I cannot think where.’

  ‘It’s constantly in the society columns of the newspapers,’ Aunt Jane said, ‘now I think about it. Her father is exceedingly wealthy, but not a gentleman in the strictest sense of the word. He made his fortune through trade, rather as Charles’s father did. Anyway, Mr Fleming seeks to improve his stature in the eyes of society, and his daughter’s chances of making a good marriage, by being a generous patron of the arts.’

  ‘That is probably how Mr Tyrell made her acquaintance then,’ Susie said.

  ‘I think I heard it mentioned somewhere,’ Aunt Jane added, ‘that his wife died when his daughter was still an infant.’

  ‘How sad never to know one’s Mama,’ Susie mused.

  ‘Quite so, my dear.’ Aunt Jane smiled and continued with her story. ‘Well, as you can imagine, Mr Fleming was pursued the moment he was out of mourning but never remarried. Beatrice is his only child and he delights in her.’

  ‘And she is a rare beauty, I would imagine,’ Susie said, wondering why it should matter to her. ‘She and Mr Tyrell will no doubt make a handsome couple and turns head everywhere they go.’

  ‘Mr Fleming is one of Tyrell’s most loyal patrons, I believe,’ Aunt Jane said.

  ‘He possesses a fortune of his own,’ Mama said. ‘But if he is serious about encouraging young talent then he will need the added support of Mr Fleming’s patronage, I expect.’

  ‘And that is sure to continue if his son marries Miss Fleming,’ Susie said briskly. ‘Let’s hope we can resolve his problems quickly. I dare say he is anxious to return to his intended.’

  ᴥᴥᴥ

  Spence strode towards the Bingleys’ estate office, expecting to find his cousin moping and ready to give him a stern talking to. It was beyond time that he got over his obsession with Miss Stoughton since the lady had made it abundantly clear that she did not return his affections. Besides, Spence, his brothers and male cousins had entered into a solemn pact that barred any of them from becoming leg-shackled before they reached the age of five and twenty. There was safety in numbers, but if one of them reneged, the match-making mamas would declare open season on the rest of them.

  ‘Have to be cruel to be kind,’ Spence said as he threw open the door.

  ‘Who are you planning to bully now?’ Simon asked, looking up and putting aside his quill.

  ‘Good God!’

  ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘You…you look, well…as though you’re working.’

  ‘Slaving away, old chap. No rest for the wicked.’

  Spence threw himself into the chair on the opposite side of the desk occupied by Simon and eyed his cousin with suspicion. ‘Since when?’

  ‘Marc takes the lion’s share of the responsibility for Pemberley’s affairs, leaving you with nothing to do. My pater has only me to reply upon.’

  Spence peered suspiciously at the document Simon had been working on. ‘Are you sure you’re not composing more odes to Miss Stoughton’s remarkable eyes?’

  ‘Credit me with more sense.’

  Spence rolled his own eyes, unsure whether to feel relieved or suspicious. ‘Since you raise the subject of senses or the lack thereof, I’m glad to see what few you once possessed appear to have been restored to you. No woman is worth the agonies you’ve inflicted upon yourself over Miss Stoughton.’

  ‘Ha!’

  ‘I know what’s happened to bring about this remarkable change. Your father has finally lost patience with you continuously mooning over a certain Cornish beauty and has threatened to disinherit you if you don’t take more of an interest in your…well, your inheritance.’

  ‘Aye well, as you and the others haven’t tired of telling me these past months, we’re too young for such attachments. Besides, Miss Stoughton has made it abundantly clear that she does not return my regard. Wouldn’t be gentlemanly to press my suit under those circumstances.’

  ‘Miss Stoughton has had a lot of changes to deal with,’ Spence pointed out.

  ‘She dined here just last week but declined my invitation to walk in the gardens.’ Simon kicked moodily at the leg of his chair. ‘Her message could not have been clearer and I don’t intend to make any more of a fool of myself than I already have.’

  ‘It was raining when you issued that invitation,’ Spence reminded him with exaggerated patience.

  ‘What’s a little rain compared to a chance to steal a few moments alone? If she’d shared my feelings she would have jumped at the opportunity but she preferred to remain indoors and partner you at whist.’

  ‘Because I don’t look at her with cow eyes,’ Spence replied, feeling guilty because, although he would never make the admission, he shared Simon’s enthusiasm for the comely Cornishwoman. With her tumble of russet curls, sparkling green eyes and lively, intelligent conversation, he would defy any man not to admire her. But admiration was a long way from breaking ranks. Besides, even if he felt tempted to do so, Simon had first claim to Miss Stoughton’s affections, regardless of whether or not they were not returned. There were rules about that sort of thing and Spence wasn’t about to break them.

  ‘I do not look at her like a love-struck buffoon,’ Simon protested.

  ‘Miss Stoughton is now a member of our family…after a fashion,’ Spence pointed out.

  ‘Because her brother is married to our cousin Rosie. Even if he was not, she would still make a sparkling addition to any party,’ Simon pronounced. ‘She knows how to behave in society and doesn’t put herself forward or give other females reason to feel threatened by her.’

  ‘Even so, she will not be invited to dine by all the families we associate with because she chooses to retain her position as governess to the Covingtons. Estranged from her father, she assumed she would have to make her own way in the world. Now she need not do so and it is to her credit that she has stuck with the Covingtons.’

  ‘My angel is no quitter.’

  ‘As a peripheral member of the Darcy clan, she will always be invited to dine with us when the Covingtons do, or even independently of them. Speaking of which, my mother plans to invite them to a party we’re holding the day after tomorrow.’

  Simon brightened but Spence was encouraged to see that he didn�
�t fall into his customary lather of anticipation at the prospect of seeing Miss Stoughton. ‘Then I shall keep my distance and not embarrass her with my unwanted attentions,’ he said loftily. ‘What’s the occasion anyway? For the party, I mean.’

  Simon listened while Spence explained about Tyrell. ‘Damned odd,’ he remarked. ‘Thought forgers stuck to the big cities. Never heard of one hiding himself away in the country before.’

  ‘I’m not sure this one has. All we know is that someone by the name of Bevan put a couple of Sir Robert’s guests in touch with someone else who sold them the fakes.’

  Simon shrugged. ‘It all sounds a bit tenuous. I’ve never heard of this Bevan cove, so he was most likely passing through as well.’

  ‘It’s a measure of Tyrell’s desperation that he’s sent his son to Derbyshire to check out the connection, and I intend to do all I can to help him. I already have Carson asking questions of Sir Robert’s servants to see if the family’s suffering the sort of hardships that might make them desperate enough to get involved in such scams.’

  ‘It’s possible that Sir Robert has fallen upon hard times,’ Simon conceded, ‘but I don’t think it likely.’

  ‘Well,’ Spence said, standing because it was time to re-join his mother and sister, ‘let me know if anything occurs to you. And remember, discretion is vital.’

  Chapter Four

  As soon as they returned from their excursion, Susie made an early start on her preparations for that evening’s dinner. Mr Tyrell would be the only guest, but she told herself that was not why she was taking such particular care with her toilette. She would never be able to rival the exquisite-sounding Miss Fleming. Besides, Mr Tyrell was almost engaged to be married to that lady, so she wouldn’t have attempted it, even had she known how.

  She wore her favourite gown of deep pink chintz netted with silver, its lace bodice and flounces attractively finished with Vandyke points. Once Mary had styled her hair, Susie was left with half an hour before she would be expected in the drawing room. It was a fine evening and she craved fresh air. Pulling on her gloves, she made her way downstairs and slipped through the open drawing room doors onto the terrace. She wandered down the steps that led to the rose garden, breathing in the heady scent of early blooms as she meandered with no particular destination in mind, deep in thought about Mr Tyrell’s problems.

  Fanny Gaunt had been no help whatsoever. She had developed a tendre for a neighbour’s son whom she met at what she described as her first adult foray into local society. She wanted to speak of nothing other than Mr Johnson’s myriad charms. Having met the gentlemen in question, Susie struggled to make the appropriate responses. Mr Johnson was boyishly handsome, Susie supposed, but his conversation was tiresomely mundane. All Susie’s efforts to redirect her discourse with Fanny towards her family’s recent guests were met with blank looks.

  Susie was reduced to covertly studying her surroundings in Gaunt Hall, but everything seemed the way it had always been. No gaps on the walls where paintings had once hung, no missing silver or porcelain that Susie could detect. Everything appeared to be as sumptuous and orderly as always.

  ‘Sir Robert cannot possibly be involved,’ Susie muttered to herself. ‘I have always liked him and I am not that bad a judge of character.’

  She left the rose garden behind her and entered a gravel walkway shaded on both sides by trees breaking into leaf. Still deep in thought, it took her a moment to realise that a pathetic mewing was coming from one of them. She glanced up and saw patches of ginger and white and the very distressed face of a young kitten.

  ‘What are you doing up there?’ she asked. ‘Are you stuck? Surely not. If you climbed up, it’s a simple matter to climb down again.’

  The pitiful mewing grew louder.

  ‘I cannot come to get you,’ she said, glancing down at her finery. ‘Perhaps you mama will realise you are missing and—’

  ‘Talking to yourself, Miss Darcy?’

  ‘Oh, Mr Porter, I did not hear you approach.’ Susie was furious when her heart beat a little faster at the sight of him. ‘One of the stable yard kittens is stuck up that tree. I was just trying to explain to him that if he got up there unaided, he ought to be able to get down just as easily.’

  He glanced up at the pathetic feline and smiled. ‘Young cats are a lot like young people. Instinct tells them they can do a certain thing but when it comes to putting that faith to the test, well…’

  With a resigned shrug he slipped his arms out of his coat. ‘Be so good as to hold this for a moment.’

  Susie took the coat from him and watched as, with an agility that matched that of the trapped kitten, he pulled himself into a lower branch of the tree. It swayed beneath his weight and Susie thought at first that Mr Porter was destined to make a rather undignified exit from his perch. She should have had more faith in his abilities. He nimbly used the unstable bough as a stepping stone in order to reach the next branch. And then the next.

  ‘You almost have him,’ Susie called from below, shading her eyes with her hand against the lowering sun. ‘Just one more branch, I think. But how will you get him down?’

  Mr Porter looked down at her, sent her a smile that curdled her insides, and duly climbed a branch higher. He could reach the kitten now and she fully expected him to cradle it safely against his body. He didn’t. Instead, he gave the kitten’s bottom a gentle tap and it scampered down the tree trunk with speed and agility that belied its trapped status. Mr Porter watched it until it reached the ground and ran off towards the stables, then descended with almost as much dexterity as the feline.

  ‘It wasn’t trapped at all,’ Susie said, biting her lip to prevent herself from laughing when Mr Porter, only slightly out of breath, rejoined her. ‘I’m sorry I made you dirty your shirt for no reason,’ she added, her gaze fastened upon his torso and the offending stains. Fascinating though she found the view, she forced herself to avert her eyes. ‘I thought you would carry the kitten back down but, of course, you needed both of your hands to climb down yourself.’

  Mr Porter reclaimed his coat and slipped his arms into it. ‘I’ll let you into a little secret,’ he said, laughing. ‘I would have left the kitten to fend for itself if I had come across it alone. It would have come down when it got hungry.’

  ‘Oh, but that is so cruel!’ she cried indignantly. ‘The poor thing was terrified.’

  ‘It was exploring its territory.’ He fixed her with a look that made her feel feminine in so many inappropriate ways as they strolled the length of the walk together. ‘A charming gown. Are you expecting guests?’

  ‘Only one.’

  ‘The same gentleman who called this morning?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Tyrell.’

  She thought she saw a brief look of alarm flit across Mr Porter’s features but it was gone before she could be sure. ‘Tyrell, the artist?’ he asked.

  ‘You are acquainted with him?’

  ‘With his work. There’s no need to look so surprised. ‘I am not a complete heathen, you know.’

  ‘I was not…I didn’t mean to imply—’

  ‘It’s all right, Miss Darcy.’ Susie blushed when he fixed her with a look of amused forbearance. ‘I saw some of Tyrell’s work when I lived in London, which is how I know the name. Why has the son come to Derbyshire?’

  Susie wondered whether or not she should tell him. Spence had warned her against becoming too intimate with their new steward but her instincts told her he was trustworthy. He had a chequered past, she conceded, and had lived as a fugitive. Presumably he still had contacts in the less savoury parts of Derbyshire and beyond, which meant that Mr Porter was in a better position than the family were to trace the forger and his accomplices.

  Aware that she had fallen into a prolonged silence whilst she mulled the matter over and conscious of Mr Porter slanting her curious looks, she made up her mind. Adjuring him to keep the matter confidential, she told him everything.

  ‘Thank you for enlightening me,’
he said when she ran out of words, ‘but you are now wondering, I expect, if you were right to do so.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  He smiled at her inability to lie convincingly. ‘Trust must be earned,’ he said. ‘I am well aware that I have many more bridges to mend with your family before they have complete faith in me.’ He offered her a half bow. ‘More to the point,’ he added, fixing Susie with a pensive look that made her feel oddly self-conscious, ‘by confiding in me, you have shown that you trust me.’ He reached out a hand and briefly, very briefly, touched her face. ‘To have won your trust means a very great deal to me.’

  ‘I…that is, I cannot…’

  Susie shuffled her feet, stared down at the tips of her slippers emerging from beneath the hem of her gown and couldn’t recall what she’d intended to say. The intensity of Mr Porter’s gaze made her forget her own name. She urgently needed to say something intelligent to alleviate the awkward silence, but her mind was a complete blank. How gauche and unworldly she must appear to him. Her cheek, where his fingers had briefly brushed against it, felt scorched. Her insides twisted with an alien emotion that temporarily made her lose sight of everything except the overwhelming desire she felt for this most unsuitable of men.

  A man who was not even a gentleman.

  Susie cleared her throat and wanted to roll her eyes in frustration. Only she could develop a passion for the son of the man who had come perilously close to ruining her mother’s family. That reminder reinforced her earlier decision to avoid his society. Absolutely no good could come of it. He was most likely toying with her simply because he could. She could tell, just by glancing at the indolent smile that played about his lips that he was still totally in control of his emotions. Hers, on the other hand, were a jumble of confusion and uncertainty.

  She didn’t know the particulars but she had heard that her cousin Ellie’s husband had a glamorous aunt who recruited Mr Porter to help influence her nephew’s choice of a wife. Mr Porter turned the tables on her by seducing her in a hayloft. A man who resorted to such measures, she reminded herself primly, however nobly intended, was definitely not to be trusted.