by Jennifer Joy
"Mr. Hardcastle, Mrs. Hardcastle, I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Annesley. She has been a valuable addition to the Darcy household and reflects well on her upbringing," he said.
He acted as if they did not know who she was. She supposed, after hearing his exchange with Lofton, she should not be surprised at his tactlessness. Then again, it was difficult for Arabella to remain cross at Mr. Tanner when his gruff attempt at a compliment toward her parents was meant for her benefit.
"I am surprised to hear you say so, Mr. Tanner,” Father said in a harsh tone. “I once had a daughter in whom I took a great deal of pride. Given the nature of your unexpected call, I had supposed her impulsive nature had once again hurt the people closest to her."
Arabella bit her lips and clasped her icy fingers together for warmth. He had not forgiven her.
Elizabeth gasped. "That is not it at all, Mr. Hardcastle. Your daughter is one of my dearest friends. She is highly regarded in our circles."
Mr. Darcy took Elizabeth's hand, saying, "I think it best for us to state our purpose directly. I fear it is dreadful news. Are you certain you would not prefer to hear it from your daughter?"
"I do not have a daughter," Father said, the sadness in his tone burning Arabella's eyes. She blinked furiously, determined to be as unaffected as he was and wishing she had someone to hold her hand as he had her mother.
"Then we will waste no more of your time than necessary. First, please allow me and my entire household to express our deepest sorrow," Mr. Darcy kindly said, allowing them time to prepare themselves.
"Yes?" Father said, both he and Mother giving their full attention to Mr. Darcy.
"Last night, your son called at my home. He was highly agitated and warned us of danger. Do you know why he would do that, Mr. Hardcastle?"
Father's thick eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I do not. My son is not one to involve himself or anyone else in matters of a questionable nature. He is entirely too responsible for that."
Arabella bit her lips tighter.
Mother squeezed his hand and looked down at the floor. While Father's blindness to Ambrose's faults continued, she did not appear so easily swayed. She took in a breath to speak, but Father interrupted her.
"Is that all, Mr. Darcy? Ambrose did not return home last evening, and if you have any knowledge of his present location, I would be grateful to know it."
Mr. Darcy shoved his hand through his hair. It was unfair for him to have to bear the burden of telling her parents about Ambrose's death. It was not his burden to bear.
Speaking as quickly as she could before Father silenced her, Arabella said, "Ambrose remembered he had a sister. He came to warn us of an unknown enemy set on ruining me and anyone who would come to my aid. It was an honorable thing to do, and it is how I will choose to remember my brother."
Mother looked up, tears sparkling in her eyes. She let go of Father's hand to cover her mouth.
"I am so sorry, Mama, Papa. Ambrose was shot. He is gone," Arabella said, hating to be the cause of their heartbreak again.
Father gripped the back of Mother's chair, his face blanching to match his cravat. He stood stunned while Mother wept for some moments until he turned again to Mr. Darcy.
"Where is he?" he asked.
"He is in my home. My personal surgeon attended to him, but there was nothing that could be done. We wanted to give the news to you gently before arranging to transport his body."
"I thank you, sir. That was thoughtful."
"If you wish to speak with my surgeon, I will gladly give you his address. I did not think it my place to involve a magistrate without consulting with you first, but I intend to make private inquiries given the astonishing circumstances of his death in my home."
"How did it happen?" Father asked.
"As he was warning us of danger, he was shot through the window of my front parlor. He did not suffer."
Mother gasped, her chest heaving with a fresh bout of tears. Arabella rose to go to her.
"You have done enough!" Father exclaimed. "Do you not see how you distress your mother? Had Ambrose not gone to you, he would be here with us today."
Arabella's feet stuck to the Turkish rug, too heavy to budge. Even in death, Father would choose Ambrose over her.
Elizabeth reached for her, pulling her back to the settee.
Father continued, "I thank you, Mr. Darcy, for your attentions on behalf of my son. I will send a cart to collect him immediately."
"Do you wish to see the magistrate? Mr. Tanner and I are at your disposal should you require our testimony," Mr. Darcy said in a businesslike clip.
"No, I think it best to keep this to ourselves as you have done," said Father, rubbing his chin. "If there is anything to find out, it will be known by Ambrose's closest friends."
"Like Lord Lofton?" asked Mr. Tanner, his eyes narrowed into slits.
"Yes. He has been a tremendous help to our family over the years, and he will feel the loss as we do. I trust him implicitly."
Mr. Tanner's jaw set. He had made his disapproval of Lofton as clear as crystal, and it disappointed Arabella to see such blatant evidence of his continued prejudice against the upper classes manifested against her old friend.
Father asked more questions which Mr. Darcy answered efficiently. It was clear their call had come to an end.
Mother had buried her face in Father's handkerchief, and Father avoided looking in Arabella's direction entirely. Was she so hideous to them now? Or had something else happened of which she was unaware?
She held her head up as they went out to the carriage, but she felt like a shell of herself going through the motions. Her emotions were trampled so badly, only one clear thought remained: She would find Ambrose's murderer. She would avenge his death, and maybe — just maybe — her father would forgive her. If not, she would have the satisfaction of knowing she had done everything she could to repair the breech she had caused. Maybe then, she would have peace.
Georgiana met them in her favorite room — the music room — with a spread large enough to rival their morning meal and a pot of steaming tea placed on the table in front of the window overlooking the garden.
Arabella sensed her concern and saw Georgiana’s nervous glances in her direction, but she need not worry. Arabella knew what desperation felt like, and she was not there yet.
Instead, she felt the serene levelheadedness of one with purpose and enough hope to see her objective come to fruition. The calm before the storm she was determined to abate for the benefit of her friends who had stood beside her as her own father had tried to ignore her.
It struck her as forced now. He had tried too hard. Had it come easily to him, she would not have dreamed of reparation. But he had struggled. He had stood over Mother, holding her hand for support as much for himself as for her, Arabella suspected. It was something. It was a small indication they still cared. It was enough for Arabella.
"Please do not tread so lightly around me," she implored their group gathered around the table. "I am not so delicate as you might think, and right now, I am more determined than ever to discover who is behind Ambrose's murder. I will not rest until I know who dares threaten me, whose grudge is so vile as to include you in it." She saw the objections on Mr. Darcy and Mr. Tanner's face, so she added, "I am quite determined. If you try to prevent me from avenging my brother's death, I will pack my things and leave immediately."
Georgiana gasped, "Oh, no. Not that!"
Elizabeth sighed. "I felt the same way when my mother was murdered. My husband may not like it — he objected back then — but he knows better than to interfere when a woman's mind is made up."
Mr. Darcy's scowl lightened at his wife's gentle smile.
Mr. Tanner grumbled. "Where would you go?"
Arabella had not thought that far ahead, even though she had meant her words completely. Where would she go? She was not welcome at her home, and she had no other family who would defy her father's wishe
s to welcome her into their homes. That only left one option. "I have some money saved. I would rent a room."
"A lady? Alone?" Mr. Tanner challenged her.
Arabella stiffened her shoulders. She did not care much for his questions. They were much too logical. "If it comes to that, I will do what I must." She leveled her eyes at him. If he did not think she would go through with it, he was in for a surprise. She had lived above a laundry, eating nothing but scraps of stale bread before. She could do it again.
Mr. Darcy's scowl returned, aimed at his brother. "It will not come to that, Mrs. Annesley. The anxiety we would experience at your departure is well worth your staying here where we can offer protection."
She understood the order in Mr. Darcy’s tone, giving her no option. She would stay. Not that she wished to leave. Not really.
Wishing to change the topic of conversation away from herself, Arabella accepted a cup of tea from Georgiana. "Did you find the Chuftons well?" she asked her.
Georgiana very nearly rolled her eyes. "After I appeased Mrs. Chufton for my absence at her ball, I had the good fortune to inquire after her daughters. They had only today received an invitation to Lady Templeton's ball this coming Saturday. The Viscount Lofton is rumored to have accepted the invitation, and the Misses Chufton could talk of nothing else."
Elizabeth tilted her head toward Georgiana, eyeing her curiously. “You have no desire to meet Lord Lofton? Pray, do tell us why not?”
Georgiana lowered her voice, too well-mannered to speak ill of anyone even among friends. “It is my opinion from my observations and limited experience that a gentleman of his age who is yet unattached is too much trouble for someone like me. I mean to keep my distance.”
Mr. Tanner practically gloated. He would. He was determined to dislike Lofton on principle.
Arabella bristled. “How old do you suppose he is?” she asked.
Georgiana blushed. “Oh, he is older than you. You mentioned he was a couple of years ahead of your brother in his studies, so I supposed he was around the same age as William. Not old by any means, but of an age and in a position in society which would make it very difficult for him to remain unmarried.”
“What a sensible reply, Georgiana, and one I am certain has brought tremendous relief to your older brothers,” said Elizabeth, tapping her chin pensively, then adding, “You, also, received an invitation, did you not?”
“Yes. I had planned to send my reply today. Lady Templeton’s balls are always so well attended. I shall not be missed.”
“My dear Georgie, I do believe you must accept,” Elizabeth said, looking between Arabella and Mr. Tanner with a satisfied smirk. What was she thinking? And why was her expression so disconcerting to Arabella?
Mr. Darcy agreed.
Arabella considered Elizabeth’s suggestion. The ball would give her the perfect opportunity to speak with Lofton. Given the circumstances of Ambrose’s death, she did not feel obligated to mourn him when he very well might have been the cause of their current troubles. She would find his killer and avenge his death, but her motivation in doing so was hardly altruistic.
Elizabeth’s eyes danced in restrained merriment as she added between sips from her teacup, “That is five days from now? It is enough time, I think.” She blinked innocently at Mr. Tanner (who had sense enough to become greatly disturbed).
Mr. Darcy laughed. “Let us hope you inherited the Darcy lightness-of-foot.”
Georgiana joined in the conspiracy, “You do owe me a dance, Tanner.”
Arabella had not thought it possible for Mr. Tanner to show fear before anything. But at that moment, he looked terrified.
“My tailor first. It will not do to attend a ball without the proper attire,” added Mr. Darcy.
Poor Mr. Tanner. He crossed his arms and dropped his chin to his chest with a groan, but not even his immovable stubbornness would change his brother and sister’s minds — and Mr. Tanner knew it.
Once again, Arabella found herself in the awkward position of knowing she ought to remain cross at him but finding herself unable to remember precisely why that was.
His misery provoked a strange mixture of pity and humor in Arabella … of which humor won out when a squeak escaped from Georgiana and he attempted (and spectacularly failed) to glower at her. A glower that turned into a smile and a booming laugh that shook the prisms hanging from the gas lamp beside her.
Chapter 11
It took more restraint than Tanner believed himself to possess to stand still while every inch of his form was measured to the incessant appraising remarks of the tailor. Being compared to a marble statue of a Greek god did not amount to much of a compliment in Tanner’s mind. Too many of those gods had tragic ends.
He endured in silence while Darcy took too much pleasure in his discomfort. Pest.
Tanner even held his peace when the tailor suggested a plan to promote his growing male accessories business by making it known he was responsible for the stylish cut of Tanner’s coat and the precise fit of his breeches (the description of which made Tanner blush and Darcy laugh more. Brat.)
When the tailor suggested waistcoats in bright colors to rival the prettiest blooms of the season (and in shimmery fabrics), Tanner decided it was time to go.
Standing by the door, his hand poised over the handle, Tanner uncoiled his taut muscles and breathed in the polluted London air in anticipation of sweet freedom when Darcy's final instruction to the tailor broke through his fragile patience.
"Very well, Mr. Darcy. I will spare no expense and will be certain to send the bill to Darcy House when the work is complete. It will be done on time," said the tailor.
Tanner knew better than to cause a scene on busy Old Bond Street, but he had no such restraint once he and Darcy were inside the carriage.
"I pay for my own togs."
Darcy did not take his eyes away from the view out of the carriage glass. Waving his hand, he said, "Think nothing of it. It is my pleasure."
His easy dismissal boiled Tanner's blood. "I do not need your charity."
Darcy finally turned to him. “It is hardly charity when you are my brother. Families give gifts to each other all the time, Tanner. Normally, the recipients of such gifts understand it for what it is, and they express gratitude.”
"For what it is? I do not need your patronage."
Darcy's glare deepened. "Me patronize you? I suppose you will compare me to Aunt Catherine next."
Tanner was angry enough, he might have dared to make the comparison. "I pay my own way. I do not need your help."
"You stubborn mule. If I want to give you a gift, I will do it. I may grow to regret it later, but I will not adjust my actions merely to suit the sensibilities and prejudices of my obstinate older brother. Whether you like it or not, we are related, and I will express my joy as I see fit. It is what families do.”
If this was what joy felt like, Darcy could keep it.
"You will let me pay," Tanner grumbled, sticking to his initial argument when he realized how shaky the ground was on which he stood. Who was he to tell Darcy how or when to spend his own money? So long as he spent it on someone else, Tanner’s pride insisted.
Darcy leaned forward, making sure he had Tanner's full attention before he said firmly, "No." He sat back and crossed his arms, his glare fixed on Tanner, who returned his determined look with one of his own.
The rest of the ride to Darcy House was spent in silence, both gentlemen equally matched in their unwillingness to budge.
When they stepped into the entrance hall, anxious to part ways, only to see Georgiana waiting for them, Tanner determined not to inflict his bad mood on her. Darcy, too, forced a smile.
She still noticed something was off. Georgiana noticed everything. Looking between the two of them several times, she said in an overly cheerful voice, "It is time for your first lesson, Tanner."
If there was a merciful God in Heaven, Tanner wished He would strike him down then and there. Maybe break his leg on
the way to the music room? Was that too much to ask? Anything to spare him from having to prance and twirl like a dandy after the humiliations of the morning. Tanner did not dance.
But neither could he refuse Georgiana when she turned her sky blue eyes on him.
She smiled at him, knowing she would get her way, and he followed her in defeat. At least her company was preferable to their pig-headed pest of a brother. Anything was preferable to his aggravating association.
Except for the sight awaiting them.
Arabella stood in the middle of the music room, the sunshine coming through the windows bathing her in a radiant glow.
"I hope you do not mind I enlisted the help of your sister to provide music," Arabella said as he stood frozen in the doorway.
Georgiana played a cheerful jingle, plucking at the keys of her pianoforte with a happy grin and a saucy wink in the direction of her companion.
It was a conspiracy of siblings — a competition to see who could make Tanner more miserable. Georgiana won by a landslide.
Tanner broke out in a hot sweat. Great. Not only was he fairly certain his face looked like a beet, but he would have to hold the woman whom he spent a great deal of energy not thinking about while he reeked of perspiration.
Being the lady she was, Arabella pretended not to notice his discomfort. She pointed to a spot on the floor two steps away from her and said, "We will begin with something simple, and we will add to it as the week progresses."
He stood where she indicated, clasping his moist hands behind his back and waiting for further instruction while praying this dance did not require him to draw any closer to her than he presently was. Lord, but she was beautiful. Her grace under the intense pressures of recent events only raised her in his estimation. But it was her strength of character which truly won his admiration. Arabella was not a wilting lily.
She nodded at Georgiana, who began playing a slow, steady tune.
Taking a step closer to him, Arabella said, "You stand in place while I move in a circle around you."
