by P. O. Dixon
Elizabeth readily acceded to Mr. Darcy’s request. For her part, there was so much to entertain. The best part was that she was guaranteed his company at supper as well. As the two of them moved through the dance in perfect harmony, she was given to wonder what could be better than that?
The Duke of Dunsmore stood alone on the balcony, fuming over what was taking place before his very eyes. Something needs to be done about Fitzwilliam Darcy’s obsession with my granddaughter. She is young and by the looks of things, she is blinded by infatuation. Raising his glass to his mouth, he threw back the last of his drink. His temper he dared not vouch for. Darcy, on the other hand, is older. He is a man of sense and education with some knowledge of the world. He ought to know better.
The duke hurled his glass against the stone wall. As much as I respect the young man, this situation cannot go on. I have let things continue as they have for long enough. I shall now take matters into my own hands!
~*~
More than once, Darcy mentally recounted the reasons he had consented to meet the Duke of Dunsmore at White’s for drinks. For one, it was out of respect for one of his late father’s friend. In addition, he was the duke. One did not wish to deny such a man anything that he deigned to request. More important than that, as far as Darcy was concerned, was the fact that he was Avery and Elizabeth’s grandfather.
Having exhausted the more trivial topics of weather and sports, the duke embarked upon a discussion of a rather more personal nature.
“How is Miss Darcy?”
“My sister is doing very well, Your Grace.”
“I understand your excellent father designated you and your older cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss Darcy’s guardians.”
Darcy nodded in agreement, but said nothing.
“With your being responsible for the proper rearing of a young lady, you no doubt are aware of all the perils and pitfalls she faces … undesirable temptations, if you will.”
The duke’s words struck a chord in Darcy, who although having written to his sister on several occasions, had effectively relegated her care to another. While letters were his means of reminding his young sister of just how important she was to him, they were a poor substitute for his being there. He needed to remedy this lapse towards his sister and soon.
The duke said, “It is such a relief for me to know that my granddaughter’s future is settled. Indeed, when she and Lord Frawley are united, my favorite wish for her marital felicity will be realized. I do not envy you one bit in having to attend to such matters when it comes to your sister’s securing a match.”
Darcy could feel his temper rising over the duke’s feigned concern for Georgiana. How Darcy wished he could quiet the old man by informing him that he did not intend to dictate to whom his sister would be married. He could not. Of course, he would have a say. It was his duty to make certain his sister made an excellent match.
With assumed tranquility, he then said, “I thank you for your consideration, Your Grace. My sister is young. She has yet to come out in Society. I feel confident that when the time comes to consider whom she should or should not marry, I shall know how to act.”
Darcy did not remain at the club for long afterward. What a ruse! At least he knew now, beyond any doubt, where he stood with the duke. The Duke of Dunsmore’s message rang loud and clear. Stay away from my granddaughter!
It was just as well. While Darcy had given Elizabeth the strongest hint of his increasing regard for her and so much as said he would never obey his family’s wishes that he marry his cousin Anne de Bourgh, she had given him no such reason to hope as regarded her intentions to reject her own family’s dictates.
The trip to Ramsgate to visit my sister will do both of us a great deal of good. The timing could not be more perfect.
~*~
Elizabeth took comfort in knowing that even though this was her coming out Season, no one considered her a bride in want of a husband. She was content to let others think what they would, for she knew better. She did not intend to marry Lord Robert Frawley no matter what her grandfather desired. It was not simply the matter of his being practically a stranger to her. Elizabeth had no reason to suppose she could not respect the viscount either. However, she wanted more than merely to respect her husband; she wanted to love him and to be loved by him. She wanted to marry a man who rendered her thoroughly weak in the knees with a single touch upon her hands, the turn of his lips when he smiled, and the gentle caress of his voice when he spoke—a man like her brother’s friend—Mr. Darcy.
Avery had invited other friends to their home over the years, but none of them fascinated Elizabeth so favorably as Mr. Darcy. But then again, he was not like her brother’s other friends. He had been his own master for as long as she knew him. He had a reputation for being a generous master of his estate as well. He was honored and respected by his tenants. All these things were important, but the thing that impressed Elizabeth more was something of dignity in his countenance that did not give one an unfavorable idea of his heart.
As much as Elizabeth had not looked forward to her first Season, she was now ever so thankful that it had afforded her the opportunity to spend so much time in Mr. Darcy’s company. By the end of the Season, she had come to depend on seeing him. When she learned from her brother that Darcy had left London, her disappointment was palpable. Of course, she had to pretend otherwise. As much as she adored her brother, she preferred to keep the innermost secrets of her heart and mind to herself.
Chapter 10 ~ A Frivolous Matter
Longbourn Village
Surely his fifth born would be a male child and thus, the heir of Longbourn, the family’s salvation. Such was Mr. Thomas Bennet’s mantra—the panacea for his loss of his second born, his most beloved little Lizzy all those years ago. The birth of their fifth child being a daughter took away Mr. Bennet’s last best hope for providing for his family’s future. What would be the point in his caring for the management of the estate when in the end all the benefits of his fruits of labor would enrich some distant cousin? It would not do. The estate practically ran itself and the two thousand pounds a year he had was more than enough to live out the days of his life in simple comfort. He had always fancied himself a man of great passions—a connoisseur of fine wine and books. What better place was there to feed his fancy and live out his vision of his life for himself than in the solace and comfort of his library?
There was the business of rearing his daughters and eventually finding them all husbands, but he envisioned such tasks best suited for his wife, and so it was to be. Longbourn would sustain itself quite nicely in the charge of his steward, Mrs. Bennet would manage the household and raise their daughters, and he would pursue his enthusiasm for books and excellent spirits. It was easier that way.
Though it could be said that Mrs. Bennet was a woman of little understanding, she was not ignorant of the dire reality of her situation. The fact remained that she had four daughters—each one in need of a husband. It had taken some time, but finally she reconciled herself to the fact that her second daughter was gone—never to be seen again. In essence, little Lizzy was lost to them forever. Added to her worries was the entail on her beloved Longbourn. She and her daughters were but one heartbeat away from being thrown into the hedgerows should something happen to Mr. Bennet. Then what would become of them?
Thus, it was now the business of her life to get her daughters married and the sooner, the better. It was for that reason that all her girls were out even though Miss Jane Bennet, the eldest, was not yet married. There was no guarantee that her Jane would be the first to capture the notice of a young man’s eye—preferably one with a good fortune. Her Kitty and her Lydia were just as lovely as her Jane. Even Mary might be the first to marry. Mrs. Bennet left nothing to chance.
There was always something to do towards advancing her cause—dresses to be bought, local assemblies to be attended, and then too there was the matter of their education. With no governess to help with the rearin
g of her daughters, it all fell to her to assure they were properly brought up as gently bred young ladies ought to be. As there were four of them, little wonder she fancied herself nervous at the slightest hint of discontent.
On that particular day, Mr. Bennet did not like being roused from the sanctuary of his library. It was all owing to such a frivolous matter as hearing his wife and daughters go on and on about the neighborhood’s newest inhabitant - a Mr. Charles Bingley - a single man from the North rumored to have over five thousand pounds a year. It might well have been a splendid thing for the ladies of Longbourn Village, but it was certainly not a pleasant prospect for Mr. Bennet himself. It meant he would have to be the one to call on the gentleman, for if he did not visit Mr. Bingley, certainly the rest of his family could not.
Mr. Bennet was an odd mixture of wit, mordant humor, reserve, and caprice. As much as it might have pleased the country gentleman to think otherwise, his estate was entailed to the male line of the family. A distant cousin named Mr. Williams Collins stood to inherit everything, and he might well turn the Bennets out as soon as Mr. Bennet passed away. With the design of breaking the entail in mind, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet endeavored to conceive other children, specifically, a male child. Save another daughter, subsequent attempts failed, causing the disheartened patriarch to withdraw further into the sanctuary of his library. Soon he found more comfort there than in his wife’s bed.
“If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield,” said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, “and all the others equally well married, I shall have nothing more to wish for.”
At least one daughter well settled would mean he might never have to lift his person from his comfortable chair again in order to help the remaining girls. Surely the marriage of one would put the rest of them in the path of other wealthy gentlemen. With that in mind, he made his way to Netherfield Park as was indeed expected.
“My dear, Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him as soon as he returned, “you must tell us all about Mr. Bingley.”
His daughter Kitty took hold of his arm. “Is he a handsome man?”
His youngest daughter seized his other arm. She and Kitty commenced pulling him into the parlor. “What difference does it matter if he is handsome when he is so very rich?” cried Lydia.
“It matters not whether the gentleman is handsome or rich if he is forbidding and disagreeable,” said Mary, while adjusting her spectacles.
“Thank you, Mary,” said Jane, the eldest daughter, also described by her father as the most sensible of all.
“You shall all be happy to know that the young man is as handsome as he is agreeable,” said Mr. Bennet.
“Oh, Papa, when shall we meet him?”
“You shall meet him at the assembly.”
Chapter 11 ~ Outlandish Conjecture
Darcy’s purpose in accepting his friend Charles Bingley’s invitation to Hertfordshire was not to mingle with the local natives. He meant to assist Bingley in tackling the many daunting responsibilities of managing an estate. Once he arrived and found that Bingley’s relations were in Hertfordshire as well, Darcy ought to have known that socializing with the likes of the people gathered in the crowded assembly room would become a fast priority for his young friend. He saw no reason in the world that he needed to be put in such a position himself.
He had been in a foul mood for weeks. When he wasn’t thinking about the bewitching Lady Elizabeth Montlake and fretting over her imminent marriage to Lord Frawley, whom Darcy had learned from her brother, Avery, was due to return to the continent by the end of the year, he was agonizing over what had almost happened to his own sister in Ramsgate.
What an unfortunate circumstance that had been—one he would wish to forget. Georgiana had been in Mrs. Younge’s care for nearly a year, ever since Darcy took her from school and put her in her own establishment. The entire time, Mrs. Younge had presided over the establishment without incident and thus given Darcy the impression that she was truly a decent woman as all her credentials had said. Darcy had no idea she had a prior acquaintance with George Wickham, his late father’s godson and Darcy’s former friend. Undoubtedly by design, that despicable man followed Georgiana and Mrs. Younge to Ramsgate. By the latter’s connivance and aid, Wickham so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she had persuaded herself she was in love with him and she consented to an elopement.
What a travesty such a scandal might have wrought upon his family had he not arrived when he did. Georgiana, unable to support the idea of disappointing me by acting in a manner that she knew must certainly grieve and offend me, acknowledged the whole scheme. Darcy knew precisely how to act. Wickham’s chief object was, without question, Georgiana’s fortune of thirty thousand pounds. Still, I cannot help supposing the hope of revenging himself on me for what he continues to insist was my ill use of him regarding my father’s final wishes and the living in Kympton was a strong inducement. Wickham’s revenge would have been complete indeed.
The Duke of Dunsmore had warned Darcy of the perils of raising a young lady. However, Darcy did not like to think he owed his timing in visiting his sister and thus saving her from ruin to a gentleman as dictatorial and officious as the duke, even though his own tactics in dispensing of the menace of George Wickham from their society had been particularly heavy handed.
Darcy had not said a word of what happened at Ramsgate to anyone other than his cousin Richard —not even his cousin Victoria. She might have been a great comfort to Georgiana, but Darcy and the colonel had decided against it. The fewer people who knew, the less chance there would be of his sister’s shame being made generally known amongst Society. Who was to say what the general knowledge of Georgiana’s near elopement with that vile George Wickham would do to her prospects for making an excellent match?
Pray to God I have chosen my sister’s new companion well. And if I never see that wretched Mrs. Younge and that vile George Wickham again, it will be too soon for me.
As he continued to move through the crowded assembly room, the most disconcerting prospect ripped Darcy from his reverie. The sight of a young woman with dark hair and brown eyes caused him to do a double take. Those eyes! That face! That young lady looks … she looks stunningly like Lady Elizabeth! He meant to turn away to allow his head to stop swimming and his thoughts to take meaningful shape, but it was too late. The young woman noticed him staring. She immediately placed her hand to her mouth and whispered something to the young girl who stood beside her. Both of them broke out in a burst of giggles.
The unseemly spectacle of it all. His unguarded manner of his staring had brought attention to himself, regrettably, and here in a place where he had hoped to go largely unnoticed. The young lady’s mother’s eyes opened wide, not to mention her mouth.
Darcy would have done just about anything to escape the notice of the horde of young ladies being corralled by their eager mama and now making their way to be introduced to the newest eligible bachelors among their midst. Were it not for the striking resemblance that one of the young ladies bore to Lady Elizabeth Montlake, he might have made his escape before they reached his party. Instead, he remained frozen in place.
As startling as was the first young lady’s resemblance, the closer they came, the more of Lady Elizabeth he noticed in another of the young ladies as well. It was as if they were long lost relatives of hers. Darcy shook his head and inwardly laughed at the absurdity of such musings. More likely, he missed Lady Elizabeth so much that he had taken to seeing her lovely face wherever he went.
Before long, there was a flock of ladies standing before him, eager to be introduced. An elderly gentleman with pearly gray hair and a half-hearted smile commenced doing the honors.
“This is my eldest daughter, Miss Bennet,” said he, his hand gesturing towards a stunning creature with fair skin, golden hair, and big blue eyes. She smiled and curtsied.
Bingley’s smile
was bright as the sun, but he held his tongue as the elderly man continued.
“This is Miss Mary Bennet—my next eldest,” said the gentleman.
Her patience exhausted, the woman who stood next to him interrupted. “Oh, and these are our youngest daughters, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia.” She pushed the former forward—the one she had caught Darcy staring at. “Kitty, say hello to Mr. Darcy.”
Unwilling to suppress her dismay, the young lady said, “Mama, he is too old.”
“Oh hush, child.”
Miss Kitty Bennet soon gave in to her mother’s coercion. “Mr. Darcy,” said she extending her hand, “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”
Mesmerized, Darcy took her hand in his. He had no choice for up close she bore an even greater resemblance to the young woman with the fine eyes, who filled his thoughts wherever he went.
“Miss Kitty, the pleasure is mine,” he heard himself say. Then, he heard himself asking her for the next dance. In no time at all, the two were standing opposite each other on the crowded dance floor. How intolerable the situation was, but Darcy had to know as much as he could about this young woman and her family who could easily be mistaken for relatives of Lady Elizabeth Montlake. He had never witnessed anything so uncanny as this before.
In addition to Bingley, who looked forward to making himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room, the Netherfield party included Bingley’s sisters, Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Louisa Hurst, and Bingley’s brother-in-law Mr. Hurst. After a time, Bingley left the dance floor in order to speak with his friend.
“Darcy,” said Bingley, his voice winded, “I hardly recognize you this evening. Do not mistake me, for I am more than pleased that you are dancing rather than standing around looking stupid as you often do at assemblies such as this. I know how objectionable you find standing up with young ladies whom you do not know to be. It seems the Bennet sisters have caused you to change your stance.”
