Particular Intentions

by L. L. Diamond

  “When?” His forehead crinkled and his jaw was set.

  “Not long after I arrived. He hoped to put it in your hand, but was told you were not at home.”

  “I have spent most of my time as of late with Georgiana.”

  “I hope she is well.”

  He swallowed. “She is better.”

  Better? When they spoke before the Netherfield ball, he had confided that his sister’s spirits, by the tone of her correspondence, seemed improved. She must have suffered some sort of emotional setback.

  “I had not the pleasure of receiving your uncle’s missive, but I have had little time to sort through my post in the past few days. The note may have been mixed with the invitations and business correspondence awaiting me on my desk.”

  He had not known she was in town. She had waited, assuming he would abandon everything and rush to see her. His note indicated he would, but she had not taken the happenings in his life into account. He was a busy man. His business affairs frequently occupied his time at Netherfield, and he had been away for some time. His desire to spend time with his sister was understandable and laudable. He had no way of knowing that she awaited him.

  She turned and caught a glimpse of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who stood along the edge of the dance floor, wearing an insufferable grin. When she pivoted once more, Mr. Darcy was rolling his eyes.

  “Your cousin takes great amusement at your expense.”

  “You have met Richard?”

  “I made his acquaintance when we entered, and we danced before your aunt brought me to you.”

  His hand gripped hers as they turned. “How did you find my cousin?”

  “I am not certain.”

  Mr. Darcy lifted his eyebrows.

  “He seems to enjoy the sound of his own voice.”

  A bark of laughter from him startled those around them. “I suppose that is a polite way of saying he talks too much.”

  “I believe while you tend to be more circumspect, he says what comes to mind regardless of the audience. I was unsure what to make of him, to be honest.” She again wove her way through the dancers in their group until she reached him once more.

  “Do not be disturbed by Richard. He may be loquacious, but he is loyal to a fault. Forgive me for not enquiring sooner of your family. I hope they are well.”

  “They were all well when I last saw them, thank you.”

  When they came to stand face to face, she started. The set was complete. She had been either caught up in conversation with him or in her own thoughts. What would happen now?

  He offered her his arm and escorted her from the dance floor. “Where are your aunt and uncle?”

  “They were near the statue of Dionysus in the corner.”

  His lip curved to one side. “You believe that to be Dionysus?”

  “Who else would be bedecked in grapes?”

  He gave a low chuckle. “I confess I had not given it much thought.”

  Her aunt and uncle were missing upon reaching the spot where she last saw them, but when they turned, her eye lit upon a familiar smile. “They are dancing.” She could not help but admire the adoring glances her aunt and uncle bestowed upon one another.

  “Where do you see them?”

  She pointed discreetly in their direction. Once he noted their location, he turned. “Miss Elizabeth—”

  “Darcy,” interrupted a voice. They both turned as Viscount Milton approached. “My father is requesting to speak with you.”

  Mr. Darcy’s lips thinned. “Please inform him I will attend him when I have a moment.”

  “He knew you would say as much and insisted you come now. I believe he wants to introduce you to one of his political connections. I whispered in his ear that you could care less. Well, you are aware how well he listens.”

  “I do not mind waiting for my aunt and uncle here.” Elizabeth had to bite her lip at the comical expression of horror that crossed Mr. Darcy’s face.

  “I shall not leave you unaccompanied.”

  His cousin made to speak but Mr. Darcy held up his hand. “Miss Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle are dancing, but let me ascertain if your mother would welcome her company. Tell your father I shall be there as soon as I am able.” With a huff, the viscount pivoted on his heel and was gone.

  She took Mr. Darcy’s proffered arm, so he could guide her across the ballroom to the countess, who was stepping away from a group of ladies when they came upon her.

  “Aunt, your husband sent Milton to drag me into the card room, but Miss Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle are dancing. I hesitate to bring her into one of Uncle’s—”

  Lady Fitzwilliam smiled. “Say no more. The poor dear would be overwhelmed and bored in one fell swoop. Besides, I would be pleased to know her better.”

  “If only I could cry off with such ease.” He gave Elizabeth a short bow. “Please excuse me.”

  Without another word, he hastened through the nearest door and a hollow sensation in her chest reappeared. How was he so essential to her in such a short period of time?

  “Are you enjoying the ball?”

  Her head jolted towards the countess. “I am, though I must admit I have never seen the like.”

  “I do not hold the most ornate events, yet I never have had a complaint.”

  Elizabeth surveyed the room and the revellers. “And why should you? Everything is lovely.”

  As her eyes completed the circuit of the room, two ladies came into view, who were whispering behind their fans and staring at her. Lady Fitzwilliam leaned towards Elizabeth.

  “Do not mind those two.” The older lady drew a bit closer. “They are catty and insufferable. If their husbands were not so important politically, they would not be extended an invitation, I assure you.”

  The walls began to draw closer. Why could she not take a deep breath?

  “Have you greeted Mr. Bingley? I believe you made his acquaintance in Hertfordshire.”

  “I have not had the opportunity.” Her voice was faint and shaky. What was wrong with her?

  “Miss Bennet? Are you well?”

  Would Mr. Darcy return? Was that to be their only interaction of the night? Would he come to Gracechurch Street now he knew the existence of the letter?

  She clutched the fabric on the stomach of her gown. “Air. Might I go outside on the terrace?” Her hand motioned towards a nearby door as she stepped forward.

  “This way, my dear.” Lady Fitzwilliam grasped her elbow, led her into a room, through a panelled door, and up a flight of stairs. “My first lesson to you about London society. Never use a terrace open to all guests without a chaperon. You never know what sort of rake might importune you.”

  After following the lady through a corridor and a dimly lit room, the countess opened a door, allowing Elizabeth to step through before her. She stepped forward onto the stone balustrade as the cool night air nipped at the flesh not covered by her gown.

  “I cannot be away long.”

  Elizabeth whirled around. “How silly of me! I did not think.”

  Lady Fitzwilliam placed a calming hand upon Elizabeth’s forearm. “Do not upset yourself. The heat of the ballroom may have been the culprit of your sudden pallor, which has already made a marked improvement.”

  “If I could have but another moment.”

  “I shall fetch a maid to escort you to the ballroom when you are ready.”

  “I thank you for this. I know it must be an imposition.”

  With a wave of her hand, the countess scoffed. “’Tis nothing. If my other guests were pleased with such ease, I would be the most celebrated hostess of the ton. Do not make haste. I am certain your aunt and uncle will seek me out when they have completed their dance.”

  The countess departed, and Elizabeth peered down at the garden below. There were indeed a few people partaking of the air on the terrace, one couple walking in the garden, and a few gentlemen enjoying a smoke in the night air.

  She tilted her head towards the sky, but it was a
starless night. The cloudy November weather had given them nothing but rain and ensured they could not see the twinkling stars overhead. Tonight, the wet weather had subsided, yet the clouds remained.

  Eventually, she would be required to return to the ballroom. How was she to remain composed in light of the situation? Mr. Darcy was in attendance yet could not remain by her side due to familial obligations, and she could not pout like an overindulged child who could not have her favourite toy.

  “Lord, but I am a silly creature,” she breathed.

  As he weaved through the crowd in the card room, Darcy grumbled under his breath. Why did his uncle never fail to issue a summons at the most inopportune moments?

  Elizabeth was here! She was in his uncle’s home, and he was in the card room. The cruelty, the impolitic cruelty! With a firm step, he halted before his uncle, who stood with a man unknown to him, and Richard.

  “Ah, Darcy. There you are.” He nudged the man beside him with his elbow. “Carlisle, I would like to introduce you to my nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Lord Carlisle is an old school chum of mine. He and I were much like you and Richard, always getting into scrapes of this sort and that.”

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”

  Lord Carlisle gave a dip of his chin in acknowledgement. “I was just telling your uncle how you need to meet my wife and daughter during supper.” He looked around him and gestured in the direction of a servant. “Of course, if you remain, you could meet Althea when Milton returns her from their set.”

  Darcy glared at his uncle, who lifted his eyebrows. “I would be pleased to meet them, my lord. I am certain Miss Elizabeth would also be happy to make the acquaintance of other ladies in town. She knows so few.”

  The portly gentleman’s smile fell. “Miss Elizabeth?” His uncle began coughing as he placed a hand upon Darcy’s shoulder.

  A smug smirk appeared upon Richard’s face. “Are we speaking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I must say I envy you, cousin. She is a lovely young lady, but I am at a loss as to how you persuaded her to accept an offer of courtship from you.”

  “Courtship?” Carlisle’s brow knitted.

  “I would attribute her acceptance to luck.” His eyes shifted to Lord Carlisle. “I hope to be so fortunate as to call Miss Elizabeth my betrothed very soon.”

  His uncle’s grip was firm as he regarded Darcy over his spectacles. “You have made your final decision, then.”

  “I entered into this courtship with the full intention of making Miss Elizabeth Bennet my wife. My choice was fixed from the moment I laid eyes upon her.”

  While his aunt had introduced him to lady after lady, his uncle had always ensured Darcy met his political allies, who would push their daughters in his direction. They meant well, but he needed to be clear. Their aid was no longer necessary.

  “Then I wish you well.” The earnest gaze of his uncle relaxed the tense muscles in his upper back.

  “Say, where is Miss Bennet?”

  “The card room would not be to her liking, so I left her speaking with Lady Fitzwilliam. I hope you gentlemen will excuse me, I promised to hasten my return.”

  Richard gave a chuckle. “Besotted and not yet betrothed!”

  Darcy exhaled and looked to the ceiling. “Has your mother not taught you to never keep a lady waiting?”

  “I have known that lesson since I asked for Lady Fitzwilliam’s hand. You should return before my wife teaches your young lady to lead you about by the nose.” The men at a nearby table turned to stare as his cousin brayed with laughter.

  “At least Darcy has found a woman he wishes to wed, unlike my sons.” A pointed glare from his uncle quelled Richard’s amusement. “Might I remind you that you would not be in danger of returning to the Peninsula if you wed. Have you met any young heiresses?”

  Before Richard could speak, his father gestured in the direction of the ballroom. “Find your mother. She will arrange some suitable young lady for you to partner.”

  Richard opened his mouth.

  “Go on with you,” his father interjected.

  Darcy took his cousin by the arm. “Please excuse us, Uncle. Lord Carlisle.”

  As they stepped, Richard rent his arm from Darcy’s grasp. “He never asks if I desire marriage.” He turned and jabbed himself in the chest with his fingers. “Perhaps I enjoy the army!”

  “No you do not. I do give you credit for knowing your limitations and not choosing to take orders.”

  “Ha!” he cried with a jolt. “That was my mother’s brilliant plan. Not that I could explain why I would not consider the life of a vicar. Could you imagine that conversation?

  “I could never forgo women until marriage, Mother. My face would have stung with the force of her hand to my cheek. I had enough of my parent’s discipline as a child. I have no need of it now.”

  Darcy smiled. “Yet you were just disciplined by your father.”

  “Do not forget I carry a sword, which I have no qualms about using.”

  “There are dozens of reasons why you will never raise a fist or your sword to me.”

  Richard stopped and pivoted to face him. His ginger-blond hair appeared redder somehow. “And what are those?”

  “Why, the contents of my wine cellars.”

  The smug grin fell away from Richard’s face. “Right you are.” With a slap on the back, his cousin propelled Darcy in the direction of his aunt. “I do not see your betrothed.”

  “I have not yet requested her hand, Richard.”

  His cousin sniggered. “You have been despondent without her, and she was more than curious about you when we danced. You may as well ask. She will say yes.”

  He grabbed the epaulette of Richard’s coat and tugged him back. “Do you truly believe that?”

  “Yes, I do.” As he shifted to adjust his uniform, he shook his head. “I assume the two of you had some disagreement since when you returned you were as bluff as bull beef1, and she is insecure. That said, she appears as downtrodden as your pathetic countenance the last fortnight, and when I discovered who she was, she listened with rapt attention to every word I said about you.”

  “I wonder if I should—” he whispered.

  “Shackle yourself?” He picked at his fingernails as though he were speaking of the weather. “She will make you miserable, but you have been a pathetic prat without her. Cannot see there would be much of a difference.”

  He gave a low growl as he turned, but Richard grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “I know she is not the eldest, but her elder sister is not here, which makes her Miss Bennet. You might want to watch your address.”

  Darcy gave a steady glare. “Whether Miss Jane Bennet is in attendance or not, she is Miss Bennet to me, and I shall not refer to Miss Elizabeth by the name of her sister.”

  Richard made to speak, but Darcy did not wait to listen. Instead, he made his way to his aunt, who was speaking with a footman. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. “Did Miss Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle retrieve her?”

  “No, she needed air.”

  His eyes shot to the terrace doors. She was outside by herself?

  “She is on the balcony off my sitting room.” She struck his arm with her fan. “You should know I would not allow her to venture out there without an escort.”

  “Should I?”

  One side of her lips curved. “I would be disappointed if you did not. The privacy will provide the perfect opportunity to talk.”

  As he made to pass, she caught his hand. “Do not dismiss the maid, Fitzwilliam. I insist she remain to chaperon the two of you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  His heart was in his throat. Could they resolve what stood between them? Elizabeth did not appear angry or upset with him. She was not comfortable, but after their misunderstanding, her unease was understandable. His disquiet was certain to be noticeable as well.

  The dark circles discernible under her eyes grieved him. Sleep had become a fickle friend for them both it seemed. He, at leas
t, had the luxury of a brandy or two; Elizabeth, however, was not one to drink more than a glass of wine with dinner.

  His eyes remained on the floor as he strode from the room. His name was said by a few as he passed, but whether they were calling him, he knew not. A lady tittered as he slipped up the servant’s stairway and through a hidden panel to the family corridor.

  The maid, who stood inside the room as she awaited Miss Elizabeth, dipped a curtsey. “Sir?”

  “Lady Fitzwilliam requested you stay while I have a private conversation with the lady.”

  The girl’s lips curved upwards to one side. “Yes, sir.”

  He put his hands over his mouth and nose. God help him to say nothing to cause offence!

  With a shaky hand, he turned the handle and pushed. The door did not make more than a slight noise when it opened and closed just as quietly. The brisk night air bit at his cheeks. How was she not cold? She stood at the edge of the balcony, staring at the garden, with her hands upon the stone railing and wearing no pelisse, spencer, or shawl to keep her warm. How she was not trembling was a mystery.

  He stepped behind her as the rigid control he had been attempting to maintain broke and his forehead rested upon her shoulder. “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were at the Netherfield ball, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever."

  1“bluff as bull beef” “Bluff—Fierce, surly. He looked as bluff as bull beef.” Captain Grose et al. 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue

  Chapter 18

  “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were at the Netherfield ball, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

  Elizabeth’s gloved hand rested upon his cheek. “I was such a fool. I should have allowed you to explain rather than allowing my abominable temper to overrule any good sense I might possess.” She sniffed and turned, placing her palms upon his chest. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”