Men of Consequence

by Francine Rainey

  “Miss Elizabeth!”

  “Yes?”

  “I, would you allow me to accompany on your walk this morning? I feel the need to take in the morning air.” Darcy stood stiffly.

  “And what of your horse, Mr. Darcy? Were you not on your way to ride?”

  Darcy had already inhaled his fill of the morning air during his vigorous ride on Midnight; however, unwilling or unable to admit it, he tied his horse to a tree and bowed to Elizabeth, “Shall we?”

  “Are you enjoying the morning, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked as they strolled.

  “Yes, I am, Mr. Darcy. I greet each morning with joy, for who knows what wonders the new day will unfold.”

  Darcy’s half smile appeared involuntarily – his cheeks as treacherous as his feet which had propelled him into her path. “And what manner of wonder does the day typically unfold for you, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “You mean to be severe upon our unvarying society, Mr. Darcy, but one may see wonders in that which is humble or common as well as that which is grand or new.”

  Darcy’s heart pounded, and he fought to control a shiver. This communion, this verbal dance was more thrilling than a waltz! “Indeed, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy managed to respond, “but you must agree that that which is grand must hold greater wonder due to its importance, and that which is new, due to its novelty.”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips; before long, she spoke. “One morning, as I walked in the woods, I happened upon a lad about seven and a little girl about three or four. They were laughing and playing in the clearing. The lad held the girl’s hand as they skipped across the uneven field. I do not know whose children they were, perhaps a shopkeeper’s. They were not well-dressed, and it was obvious that they came from little. Suddenly, the boy spotted a toad, and with a beaming smile, he picked it up. The little girl, perhaps his sister, whimpered and ran away, demanding he let it go. For a long while, the boy stared between his prize and the girl, then he sighed, released the toad and they resumed running and laughing.”

  “I watched them, Mr. Darcy. No one would consider them grand. Indeed, many in our society would dismiss them as insignificant. I could not. I found the lad’s care for his sister, his willingness to place her desires above his own truly…wonderful.” Elizabeth smiled, “Especially as I had walked out that morning to avoid strangling my youngest sister. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, wonder can be found in something as common as the love of siblings or as uncommon as Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. For it does not signify that what is common cannot also be consequential.”

  Darcy looked at her with a soft smile. “Indeed, Miss Elizabeth, I take your point. Wonder may be found in the common as easily as the grand – provided the observer has a keen intellect and a generous spirit.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened at Darcy’s praise, and she turned away.

  Back in his room, Darcy leaned against the door and shook his head. How did I allow this to happen? How had my resolve folded so rapidly? Darcy knew what had happened; she was intoxicating, and he was already at her mercy. He was no more able to deny himself her presence then he could deny himself breath. Her laughter was infectious, her mind challenging, and her lavender scent arresting. She was lovely to look upon, loyal, and lively, and his mind and body responded to her entirely without his consent. Though some would classify her as ordinary due to her lack of wealth, to him, she was extraordinary: a woman of substance. Darcy’s stomach plunged as he realized what it would mean to lose such a treasure.

  Darcy wrenched away from the door, his need for her causing him to ache. Moaning, he walked to the window. I am lost to her. If I remain here, I will be unable to untangle myself, and she will never do. As much as I want her, as much as she fills me with joy and alights my senses, I cannot think of myself alone; I must think of Georgiana. I have failed Georgiana once; I will not do so again. I must remember the Darcy name and all those who rely upon me, and I must have a mistress who can take her place in society. My children demand that I provide them with only the best opportunities. No, this will not do. This place has made me forget who I am. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, of noble lineage, grandson of an earl. I have a duty to uphold.

  Darcy sighed and leaned his head against the windowpane. As his heart and body rejected the logic his mind offered, Darcy realized that there was only one way to handle this. I must leave immediately! Darcy halted. Ah, but Bingley promised the younger Bennets a ball. I will leave right after the ball. I will attend out of consideration for my friend, and then I will go. Daydreaming, Darcy was unaware of the slight smile upon his face. Well, I will leave right after I dance with her and feel her hand in mine, her bright eyes upon me, her smile just for me, her scent all around me. Then I will stay. Yes, then, I will stay. No, what? No, no, then I will leave! Yes, decidedly, then I will leave.

  Chapter Two

  Elizabeth tightened her shawl and shivered. It was cold and dreary, and her breath fogged the windowpane. She sat at her window seat; her disposition only slightly less grey than the Hertfordshire sky. Her beloved sister, Jane, had married Charles Bingley just three weeks after the Netherfield ball. Elizabeth was pleased, but Jane’s departure had left her feeling restless; she desired an adventure of her own. Even her rambles of late had been insufficient to lift her spirits.

  Boom! Elizabeth jumped and swiveled toward what sounded like a horse stampede up the stairwell. Suddenly, her door hit the wall and rattled the table vase. Kitty, her next to the youngest sister, nearly fell her in, her eyes sparkling.

  “Open it! Open it!” Kitty bounced up and down. “Tis a letter from Jane! Open it! We are desperate for news of London! Has she gone to many balls? I wager she has had a hundred new gowns all made of silk!

  “Yes, though she would not look half as well as me, for I am the tallest and most elegant, Mama always says,” said a scowling Lydia who had followed behind Kitty and who was annoyed to have been deprived of her “right” to inform Lizzy of the letter.

  “Oh, do hurry and tell us, Lizzy!” Kitty squealed.

  “Kitty, please give me leave to read it at my leisure,” Lizzy stated removing the letter from Kitty’s hand and pointing to the door. When neither sister moved, Lizzy looked up and noticed a shallower form of the ennui she felt. She sighed, “Very well, you may remain. I will read the letter first and relate to you the portions I wish you to hear.

  Kitty frowned, and Lydia huffed and dropped to the bed with folded arms. “You will accept this, or you may take your leave,” Elizabeth said. Kitty nodded and sat on the bed next to Lydia while Elizabeth read.

  My dearest Lizzy,

  How much I must tell you! Charles is all that is kind and good. Oh, Lizzy, it is a pleasure to be married to such an amiable husband! I scarcely begin to want something before I find that he has already gone and gotten it! I fear I will become spoiled, and no one will recognize me any longer!

  Charles’s home, well, he would insist I say, our home, is lovely and very large. I often wonder how I can be the mistress of such a fine place. Oh, Lizzy, I do so wish to make Charles proud. My only cause for sadness is that I miss the sounds of Longbourn. I long to see you all again. But mostly, dearest sister, I miss you sorely. You always fill me with courage, dearest Lizzy, and I desperately need courage now. As is only right, Charles desires to introduce me to society. We have many invitations already, and we cannot continue to decline them. I know that Charles has delayed to allow me time to become acclimated, and I do not want to keep him waiting much longer. He has made a wonderful suggestion! He desires for you to come and stay with us! We could face society together, and it would be much more enjoyable (and much less frightening, too!) if I could have you with me, dear sister.

  Say you will, Lizzy. London is so diverting, and it would mean so much to me if you were here. I have made an appointment at the modiste that Aunt Gardiner recommended. She is the most sought dressmaker in town, and she has agreed to take us on because of her friendship with
Uncle. It is for a week away. Please say you will come quickly, dear sister.

  I await your answer, but mostly, I await your arrival.

  Your loving sister, Jane

  “Why do you get all the fun, Lizzy! Everyone knows you are boring, only wanting to read all the time! What a waste! She should have asked me,” Lydia huffed and folded arms. “I would be better company, and I am sure all the men would have admired me more. I should have married an earl before a fortnight!”

  “Why should you go, Lydia?” Kitty cried. “I am as much fun, just as pretty, and I am two years older! It should be me. I would be just as admired, and besides, I am the closest to Jane in size. I would look more elegant in her gowns, not you! And I should have married a, a, a duke! Yes, the Duke of ….!” Kitty triumphantly surmised, suddenly remembering having read of the handsome duke and his roguish ways in the gossip columns, but completely forgetting that the duke was already married.

  “No, you cannot marry the duke, for he will have married me! He will have fallen in love with me, and I will be living in his palace with servants and jewels, ever so rich and admired!” Lydia sighed, looking off into the distant.

  “You cannot have the duke; he is mine! I said it first! Tell her, Lizzy! The duke is mine! You must marry your stuffy old earl!”

  “I cannot help it, Kitty, if the duke likes me better.”

  “He does not like you better,” Kitty cried, “tis me he wants, not you! Tell her, Lizzy!”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes and shook her head. Amid such babble, her decision was made. She quickly exited her room to seek her father, leaving her sisters in the middle of the most absurd fight she had ever heard.

  Elizabeth arrived in London four days later. Jane raced to the carriage and hugged her tightly, laughing and crying simultaneously.

  “Lizzy, I have missed you!

  “Jane, marriage does you credit. You positively glow! I have missed you, too!”

  Bingley smiled. When Jane finally released Elizabeth, he spoke, “Welcome, Miss Elizabeth, to our home! We are delighted you came!”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. It is a lovely home. I look forward to passing many pleasant days here.”

  Across town, Francesca bit her biscuit as she peeked at her companion who sipped tea with the usual scowl. “Fitzwilliam’s knocker is up. I will send my card round,” she said.

  Francesca Waters sat in the leased townhouse. She and her companion had arrived in late August, only to discover that Fitzwilliam Darcy was away with no fixed date of return. Finally, some weeks before Christmas, he had returned, but she could not contact him then; it would have only increased his ire if she had invaded his sacred time. With no other choice, she had waited, only to find that in January he had left again. It was now February and her companion, like a caged panther, grew increasingly more restless each day.

  “If he does not respond, you had better find a way to meet with him, or I will find a way for you.” Francesca shivered as she remembered the last time a meeting with Fitzwilliam had been contrived.

  January 1806, approximately six years ago

  “Tis snowing,” Lilly Hayden said.

  Francesca smiled as she listened to the howling winds and watched the snow fall heavily from her friend’s drawing room window. “I know. Tis dreadful looking, but I love snow. Derbyshire’s weather is more varying than the southern counties.” She hugged her body, lifted her shoulders, and inhaled deeply of the winter air, the smile still lingering on her face.

  “Have you packed your trunk?” came the harsh sound of her companion and Francesca jumped, ripped from her pleasant, safe reverie back to stark reality.

  “My trunk? Why would I pack my trunk?”

  Her distant cousin and acting companion, Lilly Hayden, pulled her by her arm from the window seat. “Are you daft?”

  Francesca frowned and shook her head, “No, Cousin, but I do not understand why I would pack my trunk now. Where will we go in this weather?”

  Lilly hissed, her breath blowing the loose strands of hair around Francesca’s face, “I have told you before, do not call me Cousin, call me Hayden or Mrs. Hayden.”

  “Very well, Mrs. Hayden. Why must I pack my trunk now?”

  Lilly Hayden huffed. “Pemberley is less than twenty miles away. If we leave now, the weather will force us to take shelter there, and from the looks of this storm, we will have to remain for some duration.”

  Francesca closed her eyes and sighed. “Of course,” she said flatly, looking into her cousin’s blue stare. “Is this the best scheme? Will Mr. Darcy not resent me if he feels our encounter has been contrived?”

  Lilly Hayden’s lip had curled into something between a grimace and a smile. “Mr. Darcy is a gentleman and will delight in rescuing you; it is what they are trained to do. Now, do not question me, girl.” She tucked a lock behind Francesca’s ear. “This is the best way to secure your future. Go. Pack.”

  Francesca sighed and turned. “My future,” she thought, “tis not the future that propels you, Cousin, but the past.”

  Now, sitting in the dining room, Francesca blinked and shook her head as if to clear away the memory. “You need not worry about arranging a meeting. I will take care of it,” Francesca said, smiling quickly and toying with the napkin in her lap.

  Her companion nodded, “See that you do.”

  “Mr. Bingley, sir,” Johns announced.

  “Bingley! How are you, my friend?”

  “Darcy! Never better!” Bingley’s words were superfluous; he beamed with joy. Darcy felt a pang of jealousy that nearly stiffened his welcoming smile.

  “Mrs. Bingley I gather?” a recovered Darcy asked with a raised brow.

  “She is an angel!”

  Darcy chuckled, “What has enticed you away from the lovely Mrs. Bingley? It cannot be my taciturn disposition,” Darcy asked as he motioned for Bingley to sit and offered him a drink.

  Bingley grinned, “Jane is out shopping, and your company is preferable to Caroline’s,” Bingley said, and both men laughed.

  “Tell me how you have been?” Darcy asked.

  Darcy’s mind wandered as Bingley spoke. Since Bingley married Jane Bennet, Darcy had anticipated being in Bingley’s company with trepidation. He was concerned that Mrs. Bingley would remind him of her sister, or that Bingley would speak of Elizabeth, and his patched-up heart would break all over again. However, as Darcy listened absently to Bingley’s chatter about his marriage, his wedding tour, his angel, Darcy’s worry seemed in vain; he exhaled.

  “…of course, she is much more at ease now and is looking forward to her introduction into society. Well, as much as one of her gentle disposition can look forward to such an event. No, though I have had to share her a bit more, it was a good decision. Jane is more confident, and besides, now the house has enough good nature and laughter to balance Caroline’s sourness…”

  What is Bingley muttering on about? Darcy thought and nodded his head, hoping that such a response was warranted.

  “Yes, Lizzy brings levity to Jane. I look forward to her effect upon society,” Bingley laughed. “She will cause quite a stir. It will be quite diverting. They both will…”

  Darcy jerked forward at the mention of Elizabeth. His heart pounded in his ears causing Bingley’s voice to sound hollow. “Elizabeth is here? As close as Bingley’s townhouse? Suddenly, her smiling face and tinkling laughter, like the lightest of melodies, arrested his senses. An avalanche of longing followed, and Darcy could hardly breathe. I could go to her. I could see her; we could lunge and parry in a verbal duel. I could lose myself in her eyes. All the yearning he had tried to vanquish, erupted, and he barely suppressed a moan. His breath quickened and joy and excitement, mingled with fear and pain, filled his chest.

  “Of course,” Bingley continued as if the earth had not just tilted, “Mrs. Bennet is beside herself! She now has two daughters in society! She expects Elizabeth to return betrothed. Jane and I have deci
ded to attend many functions to allow Elizabeth to meet men of substance. I know several good men of trade with wealth enough, who I believe would be quite taken with Elizabeth. Jane is so sweet; she believes Elizabeth capable of attracting a marquess. We shall attend a ball at the Lancaster’s in a week. I am sure you are not acquainted with the Lancasters; they are modestly wealthy landowners and do not have many elevated connections, but old Mr. Lancaster invested with my family’s business and has raised their wealth considerably.”

  Darcy looked up quickly, “Who is their heir? Is he wed?”

  Bingley’s brow creased, and he shook his head slightly, “Um, their eldest is Frederick Lancaster. He is older than I. He is acquainted with your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. And no, he is not wed. I rather hoped he might take a liking to Lizzy. I think they would do well together.”

  Feigning indifference, Darcy sipped his drink slowly. “What sort of fellow is he?” Be portly, dull, and balding.

  “He is an excellent fellow, a good chap, agreeable and intelligent, too.”

  “Blast it!”

  “Say, Darcy, I would not normally dare to ask; however, he is trying to increase his estate’s yield, and he mentioned a technique I know little of but thought it was successful at Pemberley. He is a gentleman, and though not of your rank, I wondered if you might condescend to speak with him? He is a jolly good chap and his father was my father’s mate…”

  “Talk to him? Humph, I would prefer to run him through.”

  “…and should he and Elizabeth take a liking to one another, well, I would not mind having him as a brother…”

  “Can you bring him around tomorrow at noon?” Darcy asked.

  “Awfully decent of you! I will see.”

  After Bingley left, Darcy walked to the window and peered out. Elizabeth was here and being launched into society. Darcy’s stomach churned. Such were her charms that Darcy was certain that despite his infamous words, men would be taken with her. She was all loveliness and liveliness; what man could resist her? And now with her sister’s marriage into the wealthy Bingley family, even her connections were not as abysmal. For him, she remained unsuitable; however, for some favored other, she would be a treasure. Darcy stood in this manner for a while, gripping the window frame tightly – until duty conquered desire. Inhaling sharply, he turned back to his desk, to his duty, never noticing the carriage that inched slowly down the street.