I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton

by Fredrica Edward

  As the modiste ushered them deeper into the shop, Elizabeth managed to steal a glimpse of the note that appeared to be a long list in Darcy's beautiful copperplate writing.

  "May I see?" requested Elizabeth, holding out her hand.

  The modiste handed the letter over without question.

  Elizabeth ran her eye over the long list and paled when she realised Darcy had itemised and quantified everything down to her underwear. Her mortification quickly turned to anger when she read the detailed descriptions of some of the more intimate items. She fought to contain her choler. Now is not the time or place. By the time she had lifted her head, Elizabeth had managed to assume a semblance of placidity and silently handed the letter back to the modiste.

  "Elizabeth was hoping her aunt could help with the decisions, but she is unable to make it today," advised Georgiana. "Where do you suggest we start, madame?"

  "With the wedding gown, definitely," replied madame. "It could take months to prepare. Has a date been set for the nuptials?

  "Not precisely," replied Elizabeth. "It will be in the new year."

  "Dear, dear!" replied Madame. "That is so close! And we wish to do it justice. Have you any idea what you would like, or would you permit me to show you some styles?"

  Elizabeth opened her reticule and produced the peineta. "I was hoping I would be able to incorporate this."

  Georgiana looked at Elizabeth, grateful that her present was so treasured.

  "So a veil?" confirmed madame. "Very well, that is a start. Perhaps edged in lace or sprigged?"

  "I like flowers," said Elizabeth. "Would it be possible to embroider flowers on it? Perhaps just around the edge?"

  "A plain gauze…" mused madame, "…with flowers around the edge… yes, you have given me inspiration…"

  She sat down and began to sketch. "Lisette…," said madame.

  A girl appeared from nowhere.

  "Fetch me the veil we started for Miss Alston…"

  A white veil edged in lace was conjured from a back room.

  "This veil gives an idea of the pattern," said madame as the peineta was secured and the veil draped over Elizabeth's head. "It should fall to the elbows. The lady eventually decided on an elaborate headdress." What a trial that had been!

  "Yes! I like it," replied Lizzy, looking in the mirror, "but could we replace the lace with embroidered flowers? Would it be possible to do daisies?"

  "Daisies?" repeated the modiste, "in white?"

  "Yellow is sunny," suggested Lizzy.

  "Yellow?" repeated the modiste, faintly. "Is it not a little provincial?"

  Lizzy stiffened. "I am from the country after all…"

  "Of course, of course," agreed the modiste, backing down. "Then the gown should be plain, with a gauze overdress with the motif repeated near the hem?"

  "Oh, yes!" enthused Georgiana. "It will look so fresh!"

  "And the style of the dress?" asked the modiste. "Shall we have an empire line?"

  "I would prefer a fitted bodice," replied Lizzy. "I am not tall…"

  "Certainly, a fitted bodice, with an inspiring décolletage… I can mock something up for tomorrow. I believe I have some gold lace fragments we could use for the daisies. Perhaps you would like to view some fashion plates for the gowns…"

  The ladies pored for some time over books of hand-drawn fashion plates, noting some favourites until Lizzy's tummy complained rather loudly.

  "Goodness!" said Georgiana, looking at the clock on the mantel. "We have been here two hours already!"

  "My decision-making capability has been reduced to naught!" complained Lizzy, overwhelmed by all the styles they had viewed.

  "Let us repair to Gunter's for tea," suggested Georgiana.

  A footman, who had been waiting discreetly just inside the door, went off to fetch the carriage. They soon climbed inside and were off to Berkeley Square.

  Arriving at Gunter's, they had only just stepped inside the door and requested a table, when a well-dressed, middle-aged man bustled towards them.

  "Miss Darcy! It is too long since I have seen you and Mrs Annesley! But your companion does not accompany you today?"

  The gentleman's eyes flicked to Mary and Elizabeth.

  "Signore Negri, may I introduce my future sisters-in-law? This is Elizabeth Bennet, who is engaged to my brother, and her sister Mary."

  "Charmed, Miss Elizabet, Miss Mary," he said, kissing their gloved hands. "Is the wedding to be at St George's?"

  "No, they are wedding in Hertfordshire, Signore Negri," replied Georgiana.

  "Ah! but perhaps there will be a celebration or two here in London? You must permit me to show you my latest creation while you eat. But first let me find you a table!"

  The shop was crowded, but they were quickly shown to a table near the window. A small "reserved" sign on it was miraculously whisked away.

  As a footman settled them in their seats, Elizabeth could have sworn she heard the word "Darcy" whispered several times. She surveyed the room, but no faces appeared to be turned towards Georgiana. There were ladies and uniforms aplenty. Most of the ladies rivalled the Bingley sisters in their dress, making Elizabeth feel decidedly dowdy.

  Before she could dwell too much on her sartorial inadequacy, Signore Negri arrived back, followed by two bakers bearing an enormous construction that seemed to be a scale model of a church tower.

  "Miss Darcy may I present to you our latest creation from the Continent–the croquembouche! It is ideal for large parties, being constructed of individual choux puffs filled with custard, which can be easily removed from the tower. They are proving quite popular for weddings."

  "Oh, my!" exclaimed Georgiana, "It does look delicious!"

  "Permit me to give you a sample!"

  Several choux puffs were levered from the top of the creation and deposited on dainty china plates in front of the ladies. A teapot arrived, and a trolley laden with petit fours was pushed to the table. Although Elizabeth had visited Gunter's occasionally with her aunt, it had always been in summer, when they purchased ices and ate them under the plane trees in the square. Quite overcome, she allowed Georgiana to select the petit fours for them all.

  After they had done justice to this repast, Georgiana assured Signore Negri that the croquembouche had been delicioso. They made their way to the door just in time for Mary and Elizabeth to be snubbed by Caroline Bingley, who was walking into the shop in the company of an unknown gentleman.

  "Heavens!" Caroline whispered to her escort, "the place is being overrun by provincials!

  Georgiana, who had been delayed in following the Bennets by Lady Saltash's salutation, heard Caroline's nasty remark and was quite shocked by her behaviour. She had never liked Caroline, who clearly cultivated her to get closer to her brother; but she had previously experienced nothing but her cloying saccharine manner. Now, here was direct evidence of her falsity. Georgiana narrowly avoided being stopped by Caroline by giving her a sweet smile and passing by her quickly. She gave a look of relief to Mary and Elizabeth as she reached the pavement, but this was short-lived when Amelia Melkinthorpe and another lady descended upon them. Georgiana spent a wretched fifteen minutes making small talk before disposing of them.

  "Mrs Annesley is quite talented in getting rid of such ladies politely," laughed Georgiana, as she settled herself amongst the squabs of the carriage. "If your aunt is not available tomorrow, perhaps we should bring her with us!"

  Elizabeth was feeling quite enervated by the shopping trip and the rich food they had eaten at Gunter's. She would have preferred to walk back to the Darcy townhouse, just to get some exercise. When Georgiana asked if they had had enough for the day, both Bennets were ready to concede. Elizabeth could only hope that she would have her aunt's guidance on the morrow.

  The afternoon was well advanced by the time they arrived home. They were informed that the master had had to go to the City following his meeting with his man. Around six, a footman delivered a note advising the ladies to dine wit
hout Darcy.

  Chapter 57: Showdown

  Dinner at the Darcy townhouse was a desultory affair. All the ladies merely toyed with their food, having no room left after the glories of Gunter's.

  After dinner, Georgiana suggested they repair to her sitting room to play music; but Elizabeth demurred, citing a headache. In fact, she was just feeling rather bloated, depressed and overwhelmed. She had not done a jot of useful work all day and wondered whether she had made a great mistake in agreeing to wed Darcy.

  As much as she hated to admit it, Caroline Bingley, and Darcy himself, had been right. Although she refused to be treated as less than their equal, they lived in a totally different world. She saw a life of vacuous frivolity stretching ahead of her and was already thoroughly bored by it. Even Mary, she thought, as she listened to the music tinkling next door, seemed better suited to be Darcy's bride than she.

  Slipping off her shoes, Elizabeth was about to lie down on the bed when she saw a sealed letter on the pillow. It was in Darcy's hand.

  Forgive me, my love, for my lack of attention,

  There is a problem with one of my investments,

  which must be dealt with promptly.

  I hope to be back for dinner; but if not,

  would you permit me to visit you again late this evening?

  F.

  That was the final straw. She could think of no way of discreetly declining. Without the option of a refusal, what was phrased as a polite request was in fact a command.

  Elizabeth contemplated wedging the wardrobe door shut with the chair again but thought this was a little ridiculous: after all, they were engaged, and there were obviously some things they needed to talk about. She had been completely wrong-footed by his surprise entrance yesterday, but there was no way she was going to be meek today. She lay down on the bed by the light of a single candle to think.

  By the time she heard sounds in the secret stair it was eleven; the music had stopped playing next door; and she had dwelt extensively on her misgivings, including the detailed lingerie list. She had risen from her supine position to her elbows by the time Darcy stepped through the door in his shirt and breeches.

  Seeing Elizabeth exactly where he wanted her, Darcy skipped quickly to the side of the bed and kissed her gently on her forehead.

  "Good evening, sleeping beauty. May I join you?"

  Elizabeth did not think this was a good idea but moved aside nonetheless.

  "Was there a problem with your investments?" she asked.

  "Nothing major. Such silly things come up all the time. It does not do to defer them."

  Darcy looked as pleased as Punch as he stretched out beside her with his shirt gaping.

  He planted his fist on the opposite side of Elizabeth, imprisoning her between the bedclothes and his chest; then leaning in, he touched her lips gently with his own, tickling her as he moved them wordlessly before pressing them more ardently to her cheekbone and ear.

  The scent of fresh sweat washed over her. She felt her heartbeat race, fueling a rising tide of panic. His sophistication in the art of dalliance was more evidence of their inequality.

  "Are you very experienced in love?" she asked, twisting away.

  "It depends on what you mean by that term," he replied.

  "What do you mean by it?"

  "I have only ever given my heart to one person."

  Lizzy smiled despite herself, "And do I know her?"

  "Of course," he smirked, as he rolled towards her for another kiss.

  "I believe in your honesty," she whispered.

  "You may well do. Disguise of every sort is my abhorrence."

  "You," said Lizzy, disputing this claim, "are a master in the art of sophistry. Your experience with women extends beyond your heart."

  "Yes," he admitted.

  "How many would that amount to?" she asked.

  Darcy blushed at such a direct question.

  "I'm sure I could count them on one hand," he replied defensively.

  "You do not know exactly?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

  He blushed again, and thought for a moment. "I do not need to use my toes," Darcy revised.

  "That is still a large number."

  "It is not one I am proud of."

  She was discomfortingly silent.

  "Are you worried that I may be poxed?" he asked. "I assure you I have been most careful."

  "I had not thought of it," she replied. "How does one be careful?"

  "There are ways… Perhaps we should talk of this after we are married."

  "That will not do, sir!" retorted Lizzy.

  "Pardon?" Darcy replied, somewhat taken aback.

  "You wish to take liberties with me before we are wed, but you will do nothing to enlighten my state of maidenly ignorance."

  "I was more concerned for your maidenly sensibilities," he replied.

  "Who is Lord Berwick? What is shagging?"

  That made him sit up.

  "Good grief! Why do you ask such questions?"

  "Because they have been revolving in my head since your Aunt Catherine's visit."

  "You don't mean to tell me that my aunt mentioned such things?"

  "Indeed, she did, and now you have some explaining to do! Don't force me to apply to Charlotte or my Aunt Gardiner for information."

  "Oh, Lord! Well… Lord Berwick recently caused a stir by marrying his mistress."

  "So his chief sin was actually marrying her? Making an honest women of her, you might say?" she replied.

  "I cannot think of another, or at least a member of the peerage, who has done so…"

  "Am I to understand that it is not unusual for men to keep such ladies solely for their pleasure?" she asked.

  "It is not infrequent…"

  "I called you a rake when you made your request to me at Hunsford, but perhaps you consider your behaviour normal?"

  "Yes! …No! You must know I sincerely regret my actions! Such arrangements are not unusual, but I am appalled that I ever thought to suggest such an arrangement to you! Please forgive me, Elizabeth," he said, grasping her hands. "I wanted you so much. It made me a little mad. I was quite desperate to have you."

  "Am I correct in assuming then that you were transferring your affections from another? Some lady you already had in your keeping whom you intended to throw over for me?"

  Now Darcy felt he was really sunk. Oh, why did I open this can of worms by imposing on her before we were wed? His mind had frozen. He could not, knew not, how to reply.

  "Do you still have her in your keeping?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

  "No," he replied. "I took your reproofs to heart. When I returned to London from Kent, I dissolved our arrangement. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but it seemed better than the other options."

  "Other options?" she repeated.

  "Oh, damn, my cursed tongue! I love you, Elizabeth, and I intend to be faithful to you!"

  "Thank you for that reassurance Fitzwilliam, but I need to understand what I am getting myself into here. I don't want to find myself accosted by some woman in the street or at a ball who has had prior knowledge of you."

  "That won't occur," he assured her.

  "Forewarned is forearmed," she countered.

  Darcy sighed. "Since university, I have used an establishment called Madame Amelie's. I did not go there much at first, but around the time I reached my majority, I started to visit more frequently. I became worried about the pox. It is a disease…"

  "Yes, Fitzwilliam, I work in a hospital, so I know what the pox is. Go on."

  "I starting using sheaths…"

  "Stop! Now you will have to explain."

  "Sheaths?" he said, reddening.

  "Yes," she concurred.

  He swallowed. "Sheaths are used to cover one's manhood to prevent communication of disease."

  "Oh. What are they made of?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Well, lamb's gut or linen, but I believe the lamb's gut is better…"

  "Continue
," she urged. "You said you started to visit more frequently…"

  "I decided it would be better to have a contract with a single lady, for my exclusive… use–that there was less chance of infection. So I arranged for such with Madame Amelie."

  "So you chose this lady from among the workers in this establishment?"

  "No, she was chosen for me."

  Elizabeth briefly wondered what difference this made. "So this lady was your mistress for several years?"

  "Yes. No!"

  "No?" she asked.

  "She was not exactly a mistress…"

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at this.

  He tried to explain. "Mistresses are typically gentlewomen, often widows, but…" Oh, Lord, the morass just deepens…

  "Good Lord! Really?" she asked. "Why ever would they lower themselves?"

  "Some choose such a life quite freely. Many are independently wealthy. If they marry, all their wealth becomes their husband's. As a mistress, the boot is on the other foot. They can keep their wealth and their protectors may even pay for all their expenses."

  "Some…" she repeated. "But others do so because they are in dire financial straits, don't they? Like daughters of gentlemen whose properties are entailed?"

  Darcy lowered his eyes. Suddenly his offer to help Elizabeth at Hunsford sounded more like coercion.

  "But I digress," continued Lizzy. "So your lady was from the lower classes?"

  "At the time we started the contract, I believed that to be the case."

  "But it wasn't?"

  "She turned out to be a clergyman's daughter," he sighed.

  "And where is she now? Still in this brothel?"

  He flinched at her use of that term. How does she know such words?

  "No, I made arrangements for her when I terminated the contract. She is married now and lives in Yorkshire."

  "You arranged a marriage?"

  "No, I merely arranged some accommodation for her; and a living, with a companion–her old governess. She met someone afterwards and married of her own accord."

  "Is that possible?" asked Lizzy. "It goes against everything a gentlewoman is told about being ruined…"