by Jennifer Joy
Evidently not so unbecoming and indelicate for her ladyship not to mention the subject, thought Arabella, clamping her teeth on her tongue and looking down at her hands lest her distress be observed by the hawk-eyed caller. She had to intervene, but how to do so delicately…
One peek out of the corner of her eye confirmed Georgiana was in the same predicament while Elizabeth attempted to smile as if she had not been cut to the core.
Just before their silence became awkward, and a reply became necessary, the perfect argument presented itself in Arabella’s mind. She addressed Georgiana since it was Lady Catherine’s belief that companions — much like children, servants, or anyone who might oppose her own opinion — should be seen, not heard. “With Lord Harvisham being the only relative able to attend to the babe, it would be safe to assume they will honor their newborn with his name.”
Georgiana gasped. “Naturally! I wonder if they will name him Augustus after Lord Harvisham’s Christian name or Harvey in honor of his title?”
Arabella watched in satisfaction as Lady Catherine’s face turned a mottled shade of purple and red. If Arabella could guarantee Elizabeth a season in London without Lady Catherine’s barbed comments, who was she to allow the opportunity to pass her by? There was nothing unladylike in her voiced musings.
She added, “With no one on the maternal side of the family to uphold their legacy, the child will most assuredly be named exclusively after the father.”
“Anne would not dare!” Lady Catherine huffed, the sweat on her brow belying her concern.
Arabella put her hand over her mouth. “I do apologize, Lady Catherine. It was never my intention to speak out of turn or to upset you.” No, upset was not enough. Arabella wished for the great lady to depart from London to her family. It was where she belonged instead of making trouble in the Darcy’s drawing room.
Elizabeth's sisters Jane and Kitty were happily married and already adding to the number of their households with rosy-cheeked babies with chubby feet and adorably tiny fingers. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Charlotte had also recently welcomed their first child into the world. Elizabeth was happy for them, but Arabella saw how the longing for a child of her own wore on her dear friend. Elizabeth had endured quite enough of Lady Catherine’s company.
And yet, though her ladyship was clearly distressed, she did not to rise from her chair. If Arabella did not act quickly, her remark would backfire in her face like a misfiring pistol. Already, Georgiana and Elizabeth sought to appease the lady who would never think to give them the same consideration.
Footsteps echoed in the entrance hall — a servant, most likely — but Arabella knew how to use the sound to the household’s advantage. Raising her hand to her ear and inclining her head in the direction of the doorway, she asked Elizabeth softly enough for Lady Catherine to suppose she whispered but loudly enough to be overheard, “At what hour do you expect Mr. Tanner to arrive?”
Her breath caught as his name passed her lips. Even after a year, her memory of him was strong enough to make her pulse race.
Lady Catherine protested immediately. “You would invite that insufferable man to your home?”
“He is to be our guest for as long as we can convince him to stay,” Elizabeth clearly delighted in informing her ladyship.
Lady Catherine’s skin burned bright red. “He is neither a gentleman nor suitable company for a lady! I insist on speaking with Darcy this instant! I demand to know why he would allow such a man into his home. Are the shades of Darcy House to be thus polluted?” She rose, ready to invade, but paused at the doorway, uncertain where to direct her attack.
Go West, your ladyship! Go West until you meet with the shoreline! Go and kiss your grandson and fuss over your daughter like a mother ought to do! Arabella thought while she pinched her lips closed. She had said enough already.
“Did he not assist in clearing your name of any involvement in Mrs. Bennet’s murder when you were the primary suspect? I should think you would wish to call here often during his stay to properly thank him,” Georgiana remarked innocently.
Arabella nearly burst in laughter when Elizabeth caught her eye and arched her brow. Lady Catherine and Mr. Tanner went together as well as oil and vinegar, and Georgiana knew it. She was becoming quite the actress.
“He threatened to remove me from his inn! Anne had to share her room with Mrs. Jenkinson!” Lady Catherine moved toward the door. It was progress.
“An innkeeper worthy of my patronage would have made the necessary arrangements instead of stubbornly refusing to meet my reasonable demands,” Lady Catherine declared, pausing in the doorway.
Arabella cleared her throat when a chuckle threatened to escape. When were Lady Catherine’s demands ever reasonable? And why would she think Mr. Tanner would ever bend to her will? He was as immovable as the cornerstones of Darcy House. So immovable, in fact, he had refused to budge from Meryton despite Mr. Darcy’s repeated invitations to Pemberley. Arabella understood his reasons in avoiding them — the very points Lady Catherine now raised against him — but his indifference insulted what remained of her vanity. Did he not care a fig for her?
Oh, how quickly she went from bemusement to despair! Her heart palpitated wildly — a mixture of anxiety and anticipation bold enough to make her forget about Lady Catherine when thoughts of Mr. Tanner filled her mind.
Had her memory glorified his features with the passing of the seasons, for surely no man could appear so powerfully formidable and be as gentle as she remembered him to be? He was stable, and responsible, and so completely opposite to Lieutenant Nicholas Annesley, her departed husband, in every regard.
Had her heart betrayed her yet again? Was she a fool to hope Mr. Tanner would ever choose her? Would she never learn the danger of following her impulsive desires? Although, to be fair, it was hardly reasonable to consider her regard impulsive after thirteen months of waiting!
The door to the drawing room opened, and Mr. Darcy stepped inside with his arm over Mr. Tanner’s shoulders as if he had been forced to wrestle him into the room.
Arabella willed her skin to cool.
Lady Catherine snorted. “I do not approve of the company you keep, Darcy. This will not be the last you hear from me about the matter. I only hope you will have come to your senses by the time I return from the coast,” she said, her stiff silk skirts swooshing as she departed from the room with a parting glare at Mr. Tanner. Apparently, it was not expected to display good manners to one who had threatened to place her in the stables with the mule (where, she was told, she ought to feel in good company) rather than his finest rooms.
Arabella could not care less about her ladyship. There was a collective sigh of relief as Lady Catherine left the room to what one could only hope would be an extended stay with her new grandson. Arabella would write a letter of apology to Anne later, but for now, her eyes watched the man who did not return her affection, pulling her attention to him with a force she was powerless to control. It made her heart sore to see how accurate her memory of him had been and how sorry she was he had not seen fit to call before now. Had her beauty faded so greatly, she could no longer hold a man’s attention?
Georgiana launched herself at Mr. Tanner. He kissed the top of her head, pressing his cheek against her hair and rocking her in his embrace.
“Oh, Brother, you finally came! With you here and Arabella effectively sending Aunt Catherine away to the coast, I declare today to be perfect!” she said, to which Mr. Darcy requested a more thorough explanation, leading to an animated retelling of Lady Catherine’s call that made everyone except Mr. Tanner laugh heartily. He grimaced when put upon, but his attention was clearly elsewhere.
Arabella’s dreams of him pining away for her would have been justified had his appearance been altered. But no! His muscled thighs, strong shoulders, and tanned face were not the traits of a star-crossed lover. How dare he come here looking so … so … insufferably handsome.
He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and her
thoughts stilled as the room fell silent.
Chapter 3
Tanner knew he was supposed to say something, but words escaped him with Arabella so close. Even in his mind, he thought her name as tenderly as a child holding a butterfly. She reminded him of every fragile thing he had ever fumbled between his fingers, making him step lighter on his feet and breathe softer.
He had felt her presence as soon as Darcy had shoved him through the doorway. Tanner had been deaf to Lady Catherine's snub (not that he paid her any more attention than he did to a braying donkey), and when Georgiana ran up to him, Tanner returned her embrace with his eyes down, grateful for the distraction … and the precious seconds it gave him to catch his breath.
But Georgiana stepped away, and the lighthearted conversation in the room dimmed when he finally looked at Arabella.
Dear Lord, she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered her. More so even. Her eyes were stormy ocean blue with silver flecks which could either be the promise of good weather or an impending lightning storm.
Her porcelain skin tempted him to trace his fingers down her cheek just to see if it was as smooth as it looked. He clenched his hands into fists, his rough skin scratching over his callouses, to avoid the temptation.
She wore her fair hair in a modestly braided array, gathered together loosely enough that he could see the natural wave in her flaxen locks. He crossed his arms over his chest to keep from reaching out to touch a loose curl tumbling over her shoulder.
It felt like minutes had passed, and he could not speak. There simply were no words unless he wished to make a worse fool of himself by blurting the only coherent thought he had: You are beautiful, Arabella.
She curtsied, and he remembered his manners enough to bow. Try as he might, he could not pull his eyes away from her. He must have looked like a giant oaf. He felt like one with his mouth agape, staring like a bumbling fool.
What was a man supposed to say when he had spent the past year avoiding the woman now standing an arm’s length away? Distance had allowed him to justify himself, but now, four shallow steps away from her, he knew his excuses were not good enough.
Fortunately for Tanner, Darcy chose that moment to speak. “We are happy to receive you, Brother. Allow me show you to your room, and I will ask the maid to draw a bath for you to freshen up before we dine.”
Tanner resisted the urge to sniff under his arms. “My room?” he asked, grappling to make sense of Darcy’s words and avoid acting as foolish as he felt when his thoughts were so muddled.
“You did not expect me to put you out in the stables with Brutus, did you?” Darcy teased, deftly steering Tanner away from the ladies in the drawing room and leading him upstairs to a bedchamber so large, the entire taproom of his inn could have sat easily within the papered walls.
Tanner grumbled, “I would be more comfortable in the stables.”
“Nonsense.” With a solid grip on Tanner’s shoulder, Darcy pushed him inside, ordering the servants about with the ease of a general in his camp. It pleased Tanner to hear the gentle tone in his brother’s voice and the respect with which the servants regarded him. Darcy was a good gentleman — unlike their father … and most society gentlemen.
“Try to relax before dinner. If I judged the tension in the room below correctly, you have a lot to answer for and three females who will ensure you do just that.” Darcy grinned.
Tanner groaned, but he would face the consequences of his course — starting with Darcy. “What about you?”
“Me?” Darcy shook his head. “I do not pretend to understand your rationality, for in doing so, I would have to admit to some level of reasonableness on your part.”
Confound the man. Why would he not leave good enough alone? “You admit your own stubbornness prevents you from understanding how your association with me could harm your family?”
Darcy’s eyes crinkled, though his face was a mask of sincerity. “Our family,” he corrected, continuing, “And why not when you stubbornly refuse to understand our point of view? Like it or not, we are family. Your pride and, shall we call it … tenacity … clearly mark you as a Darcy. It is a trait we both inherited from our father.”
Those would have been fighting words coming from anyone else, but Tanner chuckled on hearing it from Darcy. While Tanner hated the idea of inheriting anything at all from that man, he was, at least, in good company.
Darcy released his shoulder. “If you need anything at all, I am down the hall in my study. Richard sent a bottle of his best brandy for your visit, along with his apologies for not being able to join us.”
“How is the colonel?” asked Tanner.
Darcy’s lips curled up, but his eyes betrayed sadness. “He is happy with Mrs. Fitzwilliam. She is too delicate to travel as yet, but Richard loves to brag how quickly his daughter charged into the world. She is bound to be a hearty child with a will of her own, just like Richard. I only hope she possesses the good sense and practical mind of her mother.”
Tanner nodded, feeling uncomfortable for bringing up a subject which obviously caused his brother pain. Of course, he ought to have noticed it before. They had no children of their own as yet. It must weigh on him and Mrs. Elizabeth a great deal … especially when her sisters and best friend were blessed with wee ones of their own so soon after their weddings.
Feeling clumsy on all accounts, Tanner clapped his brother on the shoulder. Having nothing significant or profound to ease the melancholy weighing on Darcy, he simply said, “Your turn will come, and you will appreciate it all the more for the time you had to wait for it.”
Tanner was not a religious man, but he said a silent prayer in his heart that Darcy and Mrs. Elizabeth be blessed with a child soon.
Darcy looked down at his boots and blinked. Tanner stood beside him in silent support, willing to stay in the same attitude for as long as it took until, finally, Darcy sniffed and stood erect. “I could say the same to you, Tanner,” he said.
With that, he departed, leaving Tanner alone in the strange room to ponder his parting words. Darcy said his turn would come. His turn for what? Life had never been so kind as to grant Tanner anything more than that for which he worked his fingers to the bone. He held no vain expectation his fortune would ever change, nor did he wish it either. He took great satisfaction in his work. He took pride in his achievements, knowing he had earned them. His inn was a symbol of what determined dedication and relentless labor could accomplish, and Tanner wished it no other way. By the end of the year, he would hold the title to his property.
It was all he wanted — or so he said to himself in an attempt to mask over what his heart understood to be Darcy’s real meaning.
Tanner looked down at his best trousers, worn at the knees, and his scuffed boots. He had polished them to a high sheen before leaving Meryton, but travel had coated them with dust. His cravat, tied in a simple knot, lay limply around his neck.
A woman would have to be blind to love a rough man like him. He could never allow himself to hope a lady would ever regard him with anything more than polite endurance. As Arabella did.
What was he doing here? He felt out of place surrounded by the rich fabrics and fineries in the bedchamber. He had not been teasing entirely when he said he would feel more comfortable in the stables with Brutus.
Before he could dwell on his awkwardness too much, Lawrence entered the room with a peremptory knock. Darcy's valet saw to the bath and offered to brush Tanner's clothes.
The tub was large, and the footmen filled it full of steaming water. When everyone had gone, and Tanner could finally enjoy the hot bath in the solace of the room, he ducked his head under the water, hearing his breath come out in bubbles as he wondered what on earth had possessed him to come to London.
Tanner should have known Georgiana was up to something. Her smile was too sweet.
It had pleased him to see his shy half-sister capable of more than complacent smiles and acquiescent conversation, but it soon became a cause for alar
m when she turned her attention to him and he realized that whatever her plan was, it involved him.
“Oh bother! I am such a silly goose. I do believe I left a candle burning in my bedchamber,” she said when dinner was announced.
Arabella's eyes flashed displeasure, a look which Georgiana ignored.
Darcy said, “Do not concern yourself. Surely a maid will have seen it—” He stopped speaking abruptly when Mrs. Elizabeth shot him such a look as to extinguish a dozen flames.
“You had best see to it. You will not enjoy your dinner or our company until you are certain you will not burn the house down,” Mrs. Elizabeth said.
Georgiana bounced up from her seat. “Please do not wait for me. I will only be a moment.”
Darcy rose, holding his arm out to escort Mrs. Elizabeth into the dining room … which left Tanner with Arabella.
She sat coolly in the chair farthest away from Tanner. (Yes, he had noticed how far away from him she had placed herself.) Not once had she peeked at him from under her thick eyelashes — not that he had any right to a stolen glance no matter how much his ego craved it.
Arabella’s fingers barely touched the broadcloth of his coat as they walked silently out to the hall and into the dining room. He held her chair out, leaving the servant intended for such duties without a task. Tanner realized his mistake, and while he ought to have stepped to the side, he saw his gesture through as he inwardly grumbled at his forgetfulness and his distaste of being waited upon. It was yet another reminder of how much he did not belong at Darcy House.
He tugged at his now-damp cravat and strained his shoulders against the confines of his blasted coat, wishing more than anything to free himself of it and roll up his sleeves.
Tanner tried not to notice how Arabella’s dress hugged the curves of her form, how the candlelight sparkled in her eyes, how the pearl drop earrings tangled in her loose curls and shimmered against her neck.
