I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton

by Fredrica Edward

  "Did she make all the choices for you?"

  "Hardly any at all. We chose most of the designs yesterday, but were too timid to come to any firm decisions. My aunt approved all the styles we had chosen; Madame suggested most of the fabrics; and Aunt merely gave her opinion for improvements. Having her there gave us confidence we had not erred."

  Darcy took Elizabeth's hand and looked at her earnestly. "I'm so sorry if I upset you with my list. I was just trying to help."

  "I'm sorry I overreacted," replied Elizabeth. "I suppose I felt silly when you gave the note to Georgiana and not me. It made me feel… I don't know… like some silly country chit. But she is Georgiana's modiste after all…"

  "She is your modiste now too. I should have at least given the list to you and requested Georgiana to make the introduction. Perhaps I was presumptuous in not letting you choose your own modiste? At the least I should have consulted you…"

  Elizabeth gave him a wry and slightly guilty smile. "I wouldn't know one from the other. Just don't send me to Caroline Bingley's modiste!"

  He laughed in relief. "I've forgotten the name of Caroline's modiste. Georgiana could tell you. Caroline offered to introduce her and confer a special rate. Apparently she is more expensive than Madame Bouchet, but is more popular with Cits. My aunt says her clothes are too showy."

  "Really? I find that surprising," replied Elizabeth. "I thought Lady Catherine just as overdressed as Caroline, although in a different way. Her clothes make me think of court dress, whereas Caroline's… Well, I'm sure they are very fine. "

  "Of course," he laughed. "No, I meant my Aunt Evelina, Richard's mother. She dresses far more tastefully than my Aunt de Bourgh. You're right, Aunt de Bourgh dresses to her own consequence, but it was my Aunt Evelina who took charge of dressing Georgiana once she stopped growing."

  He grew serious again. "But I have been guilty of imposing upon you. Please forgive me, Elizabeth. My feelings for you are strong and I thought… well, it is no excuse."

  She caressed the back of his hand lightly, admiring his distinctive knuckles. "I'm just worried… I do not want us to anticipate our wedding vows."

  "Certainly we will not do so if you feel strongly about it," he said, turning his head away to stare into the fire. "I thought… if we spent some time together, it would make the wedding night less daunting for you."

  "My aunt also thought that some time spent thus might be reassuring," replied Elizabeth.

  Darcy turned back to stare at her in surprise at this.

  "My problem," she continued, "is my feelings for you are so strong; I'm not sure where it will lead."

  "All I can do is to ask you to trust in my respect for you," said Darcy, touching her cheek gently and leaning in for a kiss.

  She allowed this without really participating. "But there is something else which we must really talk about Fitzwilliam, and that is the role you will expect me to assume once I am your wife."

  The change of subject disconcerted him, and he withdrew back into his chair. "You will, of course, be Mistress of Pemberley with all that entails, and I hoped that you would take charge of Georgiana's entrance into society."

  "I'm sure I can adapt to the role of Mistress of Pemberley as I have helped with the management of my father's estate for many years now, but I am ill qualified to mentor Georgiana."

  "You should enter society together at the next season. You will both, of course, need to be presented at court. My Aunt Evelina will help, and I'm sure your natural grace and wit will hold you in good stead."

  "I acknowledge that I will need to take this step as your wife, but I have no wish to pursue a wider role in London society."

  He grasped her hand. "That suits me very well, my dear. I would love to retreat to Pemberley for the best part of the year."

  She looked down at their intertwined hands and stroked his thumb with her own. "Fitzwilliam, I have greatly enjoyed working with Dr Gregory and I am loath to leave my work at the hospital–it has given me such satisfaction."

  "Of course, forgive me for not thinking better of your future. Perhaps something similar could be set up in Derbyshire? There are already spa baths at Matlock and Buxton which might suit the purpose."

  "Oh, Fitzwilliam! If something like that could be done, I would be eternally grateful!"

  She threw her arms around his neck, and he took the opportunity to settle her in his lap. This had an immediate effect on him, which he was sure she could not be insensible off, but she did not flinch away. He settled his arms around her waist and nuzzled the loose tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck.

  "Fitzwilliam, if we are going to become more intimate with each other, could I ask one favour?"

  "Anything, sweet Elizabeth," he reassured her.

  "Could we keep our clothes on?"

  He almost laughed at her request but sensibly restrained himself. They could quite easily anticipate their wedding vows without taking off a stitch–breeches and skirts were quite handy in that respect. He resolved quite nobly to respect the spirit of her request.

  "Of course," Darcy said, giving her hand a squeeze. He picked up his largely empty glass from a side-table. "Now, my dear, would you like a drink? I have some sherry, or would you like port?"

  "What are you drinking, Fitzwilliam?"

  "Brandy."

  "May I try some?"

  "Certainly," he said, offering her his snifter.

  Elizabeth tried to take a sip, but being unused to the snifter, tipped the glass too high, and mistakenly took a gulp. The alcohol burned down her throat, causing her to cough; and the fumes seared as they escaped through her nose. She brought her hand up to her face with the gasp.

  "Goodness! Why do you drink such nasty stuff?"

  Darcy leaned over to kiss her, trying not to laugh. With her face screwed up, she reminded him of a kitten.

  "Perhaps you would prefer the port…" he said, placing his hands on her waist to set her aside.

  "Do not get up, Fitzwilliam. I am happily settled here."

  Taking the brandy glass in one hand, Darcy returned it to the side-table but was reluctant to move his other hand from Elizabeth's waist. When he leaned forward to lick her lips, he could taste the brandy on them. The hand on her waist slid to her hip.

  She stroked his sideburns before burying her hands in the thick dark curls above his collar. This provoked an immediate and passionate bout of kissing, which left her quite breathless. She could feel his heart beating strongly through his waistcoat.

  "Fitzwilliam?" she asked, as his mouth traced a path from her lips to her jawline.

  "Mummhhh?" he replied, quite engrossed in his task.

  "This is going to sound quite hypocritical… "

  He pulled back to look at her questioningly.

  "Could I take off your cravat?"

  He smiled broadly, revealing two dimples. "Of course, my dear."

  She pulled out the diamond pin and carefully placed it on the side-table next to his glass. The blue silk cravat was not so carefully disposed of, ending up on the floor. His shirt gaped, and she slid her hand over the column of his neck, before leaning in to suck on his Adam's apple.

  A guttural groan escaped him. Before he knew it, she had straddled him in the chair and was nipping at his neck. Lord, she really meant to test his fortitude!

  Sliding his hands from her hips, Darcy grabbed her bottom with both hands. When Elizabeth sucked his earlobe into her mouth, mimicking his actions in the carriage in Hertfordshire, he almost felt himself give way.

  "Lizzy, Lizzy! We should stop!"

  She drew back and kissed the tip of his nose before getting off him.

  Darcy stood up but could not resist giving her a final peck on her rosy cheek. Her hair was delightfully askew.

  He handed her one of the candlesticks on the mantelpiece and picked the other one up for himself.

  They parted with another brief canoodle on the stairs at the wardrobe door without managing to set their clothes alight
or drip wax on themselves.

  As Darcy departed up the stairs, he mused that some intimate time before their wedding night would not only help assuage her maidenly sensibilities, but allow him to practice self-control. Lizzy engaged his passions far more violently than Genette had ever done. He didn't want to disappoint her.

  Chapter 60: The lion, the witch…

  The following day Mrs Gardiner arrived at the Darcy townhouse around ten, prepared for a day of shopping for accessories. They were determined to go to Harding Howell in the morning before losing themselves in the Western Exchange during the afternoon.

  Georgiana declared her need for several items at Harding Howell, which included a new fan and muff. She and Mrs Annesley had recently started attending the Opera and the theatre in the company of her brother or cousin. Georgie declared that Cousin Richard had broken her favourite fan horsing around in their box, and she was determined to purchase a replacement that was equally pretty. During this exercise, which was an elaborate ruse, Elizabeth declared her partiality for an ivory brisé fan, while Georgiana expressed herself dissatisfied with the merchandise available, stating she wished to buy one that more closely resembled the one that had been broken. The truth was that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been horsing around with her delicate fan, but despite his buffoonery, he had returned it intact. It was sitting pristine and whole in Georgie's dressing room. In the grand conspiracy, the brisé fan was quietly purchased by Mrs Gardiner when the other ladies moved onto the next department.

  The muff, Georgiana declared, was necessary for the journey to Pemberley, for it got quite cold in the carriage despite the hot bricks for their feet. The ladies exclaimed over the beauty of the fur of a snow leopard and a mink, both of which muffs were lined with the finest silk, but when Elizabeth's opinion was sought, she thought a double-sided sable muff better–it looked more humble, but, on placing one's hands inside it, felt far superior to either of the showier fur and silk-line muffs and would no doubt keep its wearer far warmer. Georgiana acknowledged this reasoning, and the sable muff was duly handed to the salesman for purchase.

  "I am reminded," said Elizabeth, "of an episode where my sister purchased a ferret from a street vendor in St Albans, and I could only think of what a lovely muff it would make!"

  "Good gracious," replied Georgiana. "Do street vendors really sell ferrets?" She remembered a particular nasty turn-up between one of her brother's dogs and a ferocious ferret, which they had encountered when mounted on their hunters at Pemberley.

  "I must admit that is one of the more unusual items that Lydia has purchased in her travels," replied Elizabeth. "She does seem to have an affinity for livestock!"

  This reminded Georgiana of Lydia's story of introducing a snake into Mr Wickham's bed, and Georgie spent a pleasant minute idly daydreaming about substituting a ferret until the muff was wrapped, and the bandbox handed to the trailing footman.

  The ladies then headed off to the delights of the Western Exchange. As Madame Bouchet had given Lizzy samples of the fabrics for all her gowns, an orgy of purchases were pursued including silk stockings, gloves, shoe roses and tuckers.

  Arriving back at Darcy House, the ladies entered the vestibule in high gig as maids arrived to remove the pile of bandboxes and other packages the footmen were transporting inside.

  Again, Darcy appeared from his study to help with the coats. "Ah, you have been shopping today!" he said, looking around at the hoard.

  "Yes," replied Elizabeth merrily, "We have ruined you! You must now sell Pemberley!"

  She knew, of course, that they had done no such thing. All of the many purchases they had made at the Western Exchange did not equal the sum Georgiana had splurged on the muff; and that, Elizabeth knew, had been purchased with Georgiana's pin money.

  "My dear," he replied. "If those bandboxes were solid gold, I should not have to sell Pemberley!"

  "If those bandboxes were solid gold," retorted Elizabeth; "the footmen could not carry them round as they do!"

  "Indeed not, my dear; but most people don't realise that. How do you know that gold is so heavy?"

  "Why, the superior education my papa gave me! How else?"

  "I must admit that although I knew as much from Cambridge," replied Darcy. "I did not appreciate it until I was invited to test the weight of a gold ingot in the Treasury!"

  A footman presented a salver to Elizabeth.

  "A message for you, ma'am. Also, some packages arrived from the modiste, ma'am. They are in your room."

  Elizabeth picked up the note that was not sealed, and scanned it while Darcy smiled.

  "It is from Jane!" she declared, looking to Mary. "She will be here this afternoon!" She turned to Darcy, realising immediately that he already knew.

  "It was inside a note from Bingley," he explained.

  "Did you know they were coming?" she asked.

  "Yes, although I thought they would arrive yesterday. Apparently they were delayed in Hertfordshire."

  An hour later, after the passing of a couple of carriages had sent Elizabeth bounding to the window of the parlour at false alarms, a third was definitely heard pulling up in the street, sending Elizabeth hurrying to the vestibule. Coming from the study, Darcy had pre-empted her, and they followed the footman out to the top of the stairs.

  As the carriage door was opened, a dog flew through the aperture and landed on the ground in a flurry of claws scraping across the pavement before scrambling up the steps to lick Darcy's well-polished boots. Had Darcy's valet, Finn, been present, he would have been aghast, but fortunately he was not.

  "Argos!" Darcy cried, massaging behind the dog's ears before descending the stairs to greet Charles Bingley, who had emerged to hand his wife Jane down.

  "Oh, Argos!" spat Bingley. "Hello to you too, Darcy! And thank you and your dog for the most uncomfortable carriage ride of my life!"

  Jane squeezed her husband's hand, bidding him to hold his tongue. She nodded at Darcy in greeting.

  "Mrs Bingley," Darcy returned the nod before directing his attention to his friend. Darcy believed his affable friend was merely enjoying some raillery. "What can you mean, Charles? Argos is a good traveler, a perfect lamb!"

  "Did you mean a lamb or a lion?" asked Bingley with asperity. "He wouldn't let Jane and me sit on the same bench! I spent the entire journey on the rear-facing seat. He growled every time I moved; and when I finally decided he was all bark and no bite, and shifted anyway, he sank his teeth into my leg. Look!" he said, displaying his calf. "Ruined a perfectly good pair of top-boots!"

  "Well, you must've done something to set his back up," said Darcy guiltily. He remembered Argos had also bitten Richard's top-boots, but he wasn't about to admit this–unlike Richard, Bingley had dozens of pairs.

  Georgiana had joined her brother on the stairs. "Oh, dear, that is the second pair of top-boots he has ruined!"

  "Ha!" said Bingley. "Your sister knows your dog's character better than you do!"

  Elizabeth had run to embrace Jane.

  "Well, Lizzy, here is your rambling solution," said Darcy, giving Argos another pat.

  "What a good idea! If I have Argos, I won't need a footman!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

  "No! Any gentleman who seeks to accost you will have his top-boots ruined!" said Bingley.

  "Of course, I will go out with you when I can," said Darcy to Elizabeth, partially to save himself the embarrassment of answering Bingley. "But if you go without me, make sure to stick to Hyde Park. I heard the Marquis of Alverstoke's dog got loose among the milch cows in Green Park last week and caused a great to-do!"

  After a cup of tea, Jane and Bingley retired to their rooms to rest and prepare for dinner. Darcy had accommodated them on the third floor with himself, in the room Bingley usually occupied. He had quietly offered Colonel Fitzwilliam's room for Jane's use but Bingley pooh-poohed the idea.

  "We always sleep in the same bed at home," confided Bingley, "so I don't see any need to do differently elsewhere."

 
; Darcy felt a pang of jealousy. The fact that his friend would be agreeably engaged with a Bennet girl just down the hall while he kept a lonely vigil just eleven feet above her sister did not sit well with him.

  Soon afterwards, Darcy and Elizabeth took the very antsy Argos for the promised promenade in Hyde Park. They returned an hour later after an invigorating walk, during which Darcy and Elizabeth took turns being dragged through the park behind Argos's questing nose. Several ladies who might have been counted on to waylay a solitary Darcy gave them a wide berth.

  Dinner was ready to be served when they returned. After starting with borscht, a soup the Countess Lieven had made popular, Bingley declared himself already defeated as the second course was brought to the table.

  "Your mother decided to fatten me up in Hertfordshire, Miss Elizabeth. I feel as round as I am high."

  "Perhaps you could have surreptitiously fed the excess to Argos under the table, Mr Bingley. You might have got on his good side," she replied.

  "I sincerely doubt it, Miss Elizabeth. The dog seems to have set himself up as cavalier to my wife."

  Elizabeth laughed and Jane blushed.

  "I'm sorry I put you to the trouble of bringing him, Bingley," said Darcy. "I should have retrieved him from Derbyshire on my trip there, but it only occurred to me half-way back to Hertfordshire that Elizabeth and Argos might enjoy a ramble together in the park."

  "We were very happy to bring him, Mr Darcy," replied Jane gracefully.

  A couple of thumps from under the table indicated Argos knew he was the subject of the conversation and was happy to be there too. Darcy slipped a chop onto the drugget Mrs Flowers had laid down to spare the carpet.

  After doing less than justice to the syllabub that followed, the ladies withdrew, and the sound of the piano started from the parlour.

  "Brandy, Bingley?" asked Darcy as he began to pour.

  "Thanks, Darcy, I've always got room for that!"

  They moved to the fireplace, and Argos arranged himself at his master's feet, resting his head on the toe of one of Darcy's top-boots.

  "I swear your dog's a Presbyterian, Darcy!" said Bingley, easing himself into his seat. "He wouldn't let me lay a finger on Jane. Dammit, she's my wife!"