A Dishonorable Offer

by Timothy Underwood

  “Yes. The loss of the idyllic time of childhood. Now that you are old and sixteen you must be part of society.”

  Georgiana glanced around to ensure no one was watching them and stuck her tongue out at Darcy. “Not everyone is positively ancient as you are.”

  “It is a burden you too will bear one day.”

  A horse ambled up to them, with a very attractive woman perched sportively on the sidesaddle. She had a full figure, displayed by her smart blue riding outfit. She brightly smiled at Darcy. “Fine day for a hunt, Mr. Darcy, fine day.”

  “Only now that you have arrived. ‘Twas a somber morn until I saw you, Lady Margaret. Are you to follow the hunt?” Darcy knew that she would. She was the niece of Matlock’s wife, Lady Susan. Matlock had asked Darcy to keep an eye on her this morning.

  “Yes.” She smiled eagerly. “I adore a good gallop.”

  Darcy had known Lady Margaret since she was quite young, of course, but had not thought of her frequently. She had come out the previous season, and he had danced with her at a half dozen balls. But her first season had been cut short when Lady Susan’s father died.

  Darcy looked at her appreciatively. The girl he remembered had turned into a fine looking woman, and from the erect, confident way she held herself, she knew it well. Besides the neatly fitted blue dress and tailored coat to keep warm in the cold, she wore a jaunty small brimmed cap, with a little fringe of white lace falling from the front over her forehead.

  “You are exceptionally fetching this morning. I confess, it was a fine day before you arrived, but it is far prettier now.”

  Georgiana grabbed at her throat and gagged. Darcy silently pled with Lady Margaret to not look towards his sister.

  Lady Margaret blushed at Darcy’s praise and looked down before saying with a smile, “Oh you are too kind. But you always are.”

  Now Georgiana was snickering silently. Following Darcy’s gaze, Lady Margaret turned to Georgiana and said, “Good morning, Georgie. It is so sweet of you to see us off for the hunt.”

  Georgiana shrugged and didn’t say anything. Lady Margaret’s smile became fixed and she shifted a little uncomfortably.

  Darcy frowned at Georgiana and gestured towards Lady Margaret with his eyes. Georgiana had seen Margaret once or twice a year since she was born. Her shyness was no excuse to be rude this time.

  Catching his message, Georgiana said, “Of course, Grettie, you know how sweet I always am. And I never sleep anyways, so it was no difficulty.”

  “Georgiana.”

  “I apologize, I do sleep, on occasion. I did not mean to deceive you. It was just a little joke. Really, you are very brave to ride after them. I hate sidesaddles. But Fitzwilliam will make a good sight on his horse, so I guess it is worth the risk. You will have the more entertaining morning I dare say. Really, I do think so.” Georgiana finished and blushed at the ground.

  Darcy rubbed at his forehead.

  Lady Margaret smiled. “Of course, Georgie, I know you prefer to read, but I am glad to see you this morning. I love having you around so much. We are such good friends.”

  Georgiana glanced at Darcy, and to avoid a further rebuke, she hastily nodded, “Yes, great friends. I’m pleased to see you off. Very.” Everyone was silent, then Georgiana exclaimed, “Oh, I have not spoken to Richard yet this morning! Au revoir. Don’t fall.”

  Darcy stared at Georgiana as she walked away. She should try harder.

  “Your sister is such a fond creature. I like her excessively.”

  Was that sincerity or politeness in her eyes? Darcy hoped it was politeness. He smiled at Lady Margaret. “I greatly admire a woman on horseback, even if my sister never warmed to the exercise.”

  Lady Margaret smiled with pleasure and patted the neck of her horse. “It is just that I love Lady so greatly. I take any excuse to ride her.”

  “Then it is fortuitous that your natural preferences allow us gentlemen to see you displayed to such great advantage.”

  She blushed and smiled at him, straightening further, which pushed her ample breasts out. She really did make a delightful picture. “Do you really think I look so very well?”

  “Of course.”

  The hunt master sounded a long note from his horn and then shouted, “Everyone look towards me. Towards me. Towards me.”

  He then sounded the loud taroo, taroo of the horn twice more and released the dogs. The group followed along. At first they moved slowly over easy ground, so the women in their sidesaddles had no trouble keeping up with the men. Lady Margaret kept next to Darcy, holding the saddle with confident ease, her fine figure bouncing with the movement of the horse. She had an eager smile, and stray locks of her hair floated in the wind.

  They rode along a turnpike where the hooves of the horses sharply click-clacked on the packed rock. The path then went up a sloped hill and then they reached the woods.

  The hunt master directed the pack to the covert where the fox had been spotted the previous day. Luck was with them. The sniffing brown and white hounds with their droopy ears ran into the covert and the red furred fox shot out of it. The men in front shouted, “Tally-ho,” and the horn blew a staccato series of notes to grab the attention of all the riders, and then the gallop was on.

  They followed the animal through a field. The snow lay white on the ground, and the fox’s paw prints left an easy path. Darcy’s fine stallion kept him near the front of the riders, and he shouted in elation at his horse and the dogs. The thick muscles of the horse bunched and released as the ground disappeared under him.

  The fox easily stayed in front of the hounds. The field ended and the fox ran across the road to the nearest market town. He squirmed through a hole in the fence which bordered the road and ran past a few watching sheep. The hounds leaped over the fence or crawled under it.

  Darcy saw that Lady Margaret had followed so far, and he smiled at her and with a touch to his top hat leapt over the most difficult point of the fence and with a shout urged his horse to gallop after the running pack.

  The new field was bordered with a tall hedge that the fox ran into and then out the other side. The men followed by leaping over, but it was too dangerous of a jump for women using sidesaddles to take. The hunters rode over the ridges in the field, little built up rows that had been produced by centuries of plowing.

  The hounds bayed and barked as the fox ran towards a wilderness thicket at the edge that went steeply upslope. Running into the thicket the fox managed to shake the pursuing hounds. The group pulled to a stop as the hunt master directed the hounds to come back from an empty clump of trees. They ran around heading to the next wooded hiding place, their noses low to the ground as they tried to pick up the scent again.

  Darcy rode to Richard and Derwent. Little Charlie sat next to his father trying to imitate his father’s mannerisms as he stared at the pack.

  Richard let out a loud whoop when Darcy halted next to them.

  Darcy said, “Fine sport. Fine sport, how long do you suppose it’ll take the pack to find the trail again?”

  Derwent replied, “Less than five minutes more. Mr. Johnson has a genius. This is the best pack of foxhounds in the north of England.”

  Richard said, “I’ll take that bet. Darcy, you have a guess.”

  The pause allowed the ladies following to rejoin the party. Lady Margaret rode up to Darcy. Her eyes were shining with excitement. “A fine jump, Mr. Darcy! You took it beautifully.”

  His cousins were watching, and they would needle him no matter how he behaved with their pretty cousin. Darcy smiled at her. “It was.” Darcy scratched behind the ears of his horse. “I daresay not many men could have carried it off so well.” He gestured at Richard and Derwent, indicating which men would find it hard.

  Lady Margaret giggled.

  Darcy added, “I see in your pretty eyes that you have enjoyed the chase.”

  “Exceedingly.”

  Richard exclaimed, “Grettie, I can take any jump Darcy can manage. Just point
it out to me later and I’ll prove it.”

  Darcy heard “Tally-ho,” and the staccato low pitched horn sounded again. Darcy turned his horse back towards the action and saw the form of the fox hugging the ground as it went through the middle of a field. Darcy’s horse carried him quickly into the chase. A fast gallop followed, and they leapt several ditches and fences. The ground hurtled along beneath him, and his stomach dropped every time a leap was made.

  There was nothing better on horseback than a good hunt.

  It was a large, fast fox in the prime of life. Its tail wagged as it turned back into a covert. After they had leapt over half a dozen hedges, the fox found a drainage ditch it could fit into. The horses could not follow. There was another pause before the dogs managed to flush it out the other end. This time the animal was panting and slower. Darcy’s horse sweated from the exertion.

  He saw Lady Margaret following along, and the next ditch was low enough to make it almost safe for a woman. She flashed him a smile and carried it off with a fine jump.

  Everyone followed on again. The fox was tiring, and he allowed the hounds to come closer each time before leaving its temporary hiding places. Each time he managed to shake the hunters they were able to find the scent again sooner as it ran out of tricks.

  There was an almost touching desperation to its attempts to escape. But beyond the joy of the chase, the animals were pests and needed to be put down to protect livestock.

  Finally, the drooping fox made one last dash for freedom, and a hound caught the back leg of the fox in its jaw. Immediately the fox disappeared under a squirming, barking mass as the dogs leapt over each other to try to get closer to their dying quarry.

  The riders gathered round. Mr. Johnson dismounted and with a shout for the dogs to relax walked through them and picked up the fox’s body.

  Remembering Matlock’s admonition to keep an eye on the pretty Lady Margaret, Darcy glanced around and spotting her smiled and rode next to her horse.

  With an easy leap Lord Matlock jumped from his horse and walked through the baying pack. He took the fox from Mr. Johnson. Once the last of the ladies who had been following joined the circle of riders, he held the fox high, displaying the red furred body. The blood from where the dogs had savaged the animal dripped onto Matlock’s leather glove, and down the bushy tail.

  A cheer went up at the successful catch. They had been lucky with such an early flush. There was ample time to look for another fox or two before returning to the house for dinner.

  Matlock pulled his long hunting knife from his belt and sawed off the head of the fox. The foxhounds eagerly wrestled and whimpered around him until Matlock tossed the fox’s body into the middle of the pack so that they could enjoy the meat. He then handed the fox’s mask to one of the servants who had followed the hunt.

  With a broad grin, Matlock walked to where his grandson sat keeping his horse admirably still. “You kept a damn fine seat. I saw how you didn’t fall behind the group at all. Good form. Did you enjoy your first hunt?”

  Charlie babbled quickly and incoherently about the hounds, the trumpets, and the general excitement of the event. Darcy grinned widely at the boy, remembering his own first hunt. Lady Margaret was smiling in the same way. They shared a look of amusement at the boy’s enthusiasm.

  Matlock let his grandson talk for a minute, then he interrupted Charlie. “It is a damned fun way to spend a day.” Matlock laid his left hand on the horse’s shoulder and with his right hand smeared the blood that still sat on his glove from the fox on his grandson’s forehead and cheeks. “There. You are now a hunter.”

  He turned to the crowd watching the old practice of initiating a boy on his first hunt. Matlock lifted his hands grandly. “Come on, three cheers for my grandson.”

  Darcy grinned and punched a fist into the air as he shouted with the rest of them.

  Two hours later Darcy stripped off his dirty clothes while John clucked disapprovingly at how much mud had caked onto his leggings.

  What an excellent morning. A very good chase. His uncle’s hunts were always the most enjoyable.

  A bath had been drawn for him, and Darcy slipped comfortably into the steaming water. The gentlemen were planning to float a boat down the river and shoot at it with a tiny cannon Richard had found somewhere. Then in a few hours would be dinner. Tomorrow was Christmas Day. Carols, presents, the finest meats, dear company. His uncle and sister and cousins.

  Darcy closed his eyes and slouched into the tub to enjoy the lingering heat.

  What was Elizabeth doing for Christmas?

  Damn.

  Six hours this time.

  He’d thought about her while dressing for the hunt. How long would it take until this obsession left him? It had been six weeks, and every single day she’d bothered his mind. Wasn’t that enough time for a simple infatuation to leave? He ached at times to hear her laugh.

  She refused to be his mistress, and he was not going to marry her, and there was nothing further to think about the matter.

  If she’d been raised with money, would she have followed the chase like Lady Margaret or his mother, or would Elizabeth have preferred to stay at the manor ensuring that the fires were bright and the servants prepared for their return like Georgiana and Lady Matlock?

  Elizabeth on a horse, riding astride like a man, her hair fallen out of the pins and trailing behind her. The way she would smell: sweat, perfume, saddle leather; like a woman.

  He needed to stop this. But he didn’t want to.

  What was she doing for Christmas? He thought she would see the uncle she claimed to like, the one in trade in London. Also the sister who had been sent to London to keep away from Lydia. She had chosen family and friends over him, and she would be happy to see them. At least there was that.

  But, she would still live with Mr. Phillips. Another year. Her mother would insult her. There would be no hope and no money. No great gifts, no great happiness. Bingley had written that he now spent no time with Miss Bennet, and that she had been hurt, but not too greatly, when he talked to her.

  If only there was something he could do for Elizabeth. Just because she refused him did not mean he stopped wanting to see her happy and protected. But he had no right to give her money or to do anything else which would compromise her reputation. She did not want him to. Even though it would be absurd to give money to a woman who had refused to be his mistress, he still would have if he thought she would accept it.

  Darcy left the bath and dressed for the rest of the day.

  That afternoon he was seated next to Lady Margaret at dinner.

  Unlike the modest — and warm — riding habit she had worn during the hunt, her dress was low-cut and clung around her bosom, marking the outline of her full breasts. It took a force of effort for Darcy to keep from staring.

  Six months now.

  He kept his eyes on her face and smiled charmingly as he could. She was a beautiful woman. Of course she was the daughter of an earl; he would never consider seducing her. Darcy smiled at her. “Someone should make a painting of you jumping that ditch. It was a perfect image.”

  “I saw you were looking my direction.”

  “How could I not?”

  She blushed at Darcy’s flattery. It was words he’d been trained to use automatically. But they felt emptier now. It didn’t show in his manner, but Elizabeth had not really left his mind since his bath. Making her smile had been so much…more significant than making any other woman smile.

  Lady Margaret said, “You should be painted jumping. Of course you already have been painted, but not an equestrian. And you would know what painter to hire.”

  “Yes, I do know many painters. The same portraitist shall do us both.”

  She flushed again and looked down. She was very susceptible to his flirtations. He should keep the tone more distant for the rest of the evening.

  Darcy asked, “You must be eager for the season? More significant feelings must have prevailed at the time, but to
be suddenly placed in mourning just two weeks after entering society must have been an unpleasant reflection later.”

  “I enjoyed the dances very much. They have been a very good memory. But I also miss Grandfather very much.”

  “You shall be the center of attention in Town.”

  “Oh do you think?”

  “It is a certainty. Have you any particular beaux you are interested in? Was there someone you liked last season?”

  She blushed and bit her lip prettily. With a sideways glance into his eyes she said, “Maybe.”

  A tingle of desire and interest burned through Darcy’s stomach. Her behavior said she held at least a modest tendre for him. The entire day took on a different complexion. Matlock had told him he planned to find Darcy a good wife. His uncle had made him promise to keep an eye on Margaret this morning. She was worth forty thousand pounds and beautiful and already closely allied to the family.

  Everything a gentleman could hope for in a wife.

  Elizabeth flashed before his eyes. Some part of him said: Remember, you are supposed to return and marry her.

  Damn you. She refused me. I will not make a fool of myself over her.

  Darcy flashed Lady Margaret his best smile, with both dimples. “Unless he is a fool, I am sure this gentleman will like you very much.”

  She blushed and brightly smiled back at him.

  When dinner ended, the ladies parted, and the gentlemen sat around the table. Boxes of cigars were brought out and passed around, and decanters of brandy and port were placed on the table. Darcy poured himself a full glass of the brandy and waved away the offered cigar. Lord Matlock and Lord Radnor moved around the table to sit next to Darcy. The smoke from their cigars hung in the room.

  “What do you think of her? Our little Grettie is quite grown up, isn’t she?” Matlock waggled his eyebrows.

  Radnor elbowed his brother-in-law. “That is my daughter and your niece.”