Men of Consequence

by Francine Rainey

  Darcy sat back and crossed his arms, half smile upon his lips, “You are still stalling, Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Very well, Mr. Darcy, but I have warned you.” She sighed, “I saw a dandy strutting with erect posture, and then two matrons walking slowly and talking excitedly, and they reminded me of my mo … um, my Hertfordshire neighbors. And I thought that society might vary in wealth and position, but people are often the same no matter their consequence.” Now, despise me if you dare, she thought.

  Darcy stared, “How are they the same, Miss Bennet,” he asked softly.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Well, Mr. Darcy, take the gossiping matrons, I image they want what my mother and aunt seek, which is excitement from their daily existence with a ball or a juicy tidbit that brings variation to their day. Most are not harmful, or they do not likely mean to be. They are just seeking significance in a society that restricts us poor females. And the young dandy, he was carrying a bouquet and walking briskly. Perhaps he is a suitor on his way to see his lady love. I have seen that determination in young men in Hertfordshire as they seek out companions for their future life. Most people desire significance and,” Elizabeth paused, her voice softening, “and love,” she flushed, realizing the unintentional trajectory of the conversation.

  And instantly, the atmosphere changed, the warmth present in the carriage no longer resulting only from the sun. Elizabeth looked out of the window, but her focus was no longer on the outside; instead, she was swathed in the tension between her and Mr. Darcy, a tension that clung to her like a wool cloak on a humid day.

  “Is that what you desire, Miss Bennet?” Darcy’s voice was soft and slow.

  Elizabeth turned luminous eyes upon Darcy and froze, unable to break the intense and searching gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but words seemed inadequate, superfluous even, in this thick tension. Suddenly, Mrs. Annesley cleared her throat, and both Darcy and Elizabeth turned swiftly toward the sound. The enchantment broken; Darcy looked out the window. Elizabeth toyed with the ruffle on her pelisse and chuckled, “I am too wild and impertinent, Mr. Darcy. I shall be content to teach Jane’s twelve children to read novels, run wild through the country, and play the piano very ill.” Darcy watched her for a very long time, his gaze inscrutable.

  Darcy and Elizabeth escorted Mrs. Annesley to rest at a nearby tea shop and continued to Hatchards. Elizabeth entered the quaint store and smiled. “How I love the smell of books.”

  “Why is that, Miss Bennet?”

  “The smell of books, Mr. Darcy, do you not know?” She teased.

  “No, Miss Bennet. I await your instruction.”

  Elizabeth laughed, and to Darcy, it was as if the sun shone through her eyes. “Then I shall oblige you, Mr. Darcy! The smell of books is like the smell of freshly baked apple tarts. Even though you have not yet tasted it, the aroma alerts you that something wonderful is about.”

  Darcy smiled. “Indeed, Miss Bennet. I take your meaning.” Darcy paused, leaned a bit closer, and inhaled deeply of Elizabeth’s lavender scent, “I feel that way about the scent of lavender.” Elizabeth gasped, and Darcy chuckled. “This way, Miss Bennet. There is a book I desire to purchase.”

  Elizabeth shook her head slightly and followed. “Just over the next aisle, right here, Miss Bennet.” Elizabeth stopped abruptly in front of a shelf, and Darcy extended his arm and retrieved the book.

  “Here it is, Miss Bennet.”

  “Gulliver’s Travels, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth turned and stilled. Darcy was closer than she expected, and he was looking down at her with that intense, blue stare. Instantly, she was captured by the magnetism once again.

  Darcy’s gaze swept from her eyes to her lips, then clearing his throat, Darcy stepped back a pace and rubbed his neck. “Yes, Miss Bennet. Have you read it?”

  “I have, sir.” Elizabeth arched her brow, “And do you read it for vexation or diversion?”

  For a few seconds, Darcy just stared into her emerald green eyes, then he chuckled lightly and said, “When I have read it, I cannot help but feel both at times, Miss Bennet.”

  “Yes, it is as I thought. You do own a copy. I believe I saw one in your library.”

  “Yes, Miss Bennet,” Darcy cleared his throat. “I, uh, I purchase this for a friend.” Darcy rubbed the back of his neck and turned slightly away.

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. He is embarrassed! But why is he ashamed to purchase a book for a friend. Oh! Oh! It must be a lady. “Ah,” Elizabeth frowned and turned to the shelves, running her fingers over the spines, but not registering a single title.

  Darcy frowned, and cold shivers ran up his spine as Elizabeth turned her back and stiffened her posture. Darcy’s eyes blinked rapidly. What was said that offended? He thought. I agreed that I own a copy and feel vexed and diverted and then admitted that this copy is for a friend. It was then that Miss Elizabeth frowned, tensed, and turned away. Why would my buying a book for a friend… Darcy gasped and nearly staggered on his feet as the realization struck like lightning in a summer storm.

  “Miss Bennet.”

  “Hmm?” Elizabeth answered without turning.

  “My friend, Mr. Browning, has begun to lose his sight, and his daughter reads to him. As I was visiting, he mentioned having misplaced his copy and his desire to reread it,” Darcy said, embarrassed to reveal this act of charity but desperate for Elizabeth to understand. Elizabeth whipped around with a look of relief in her eyes before she schooled her expression into neutrality and looked away. Darcy watched her and tensed his arms to keep himself from drawing her into his embrace, kissing her face, her lips, whispering his love and promising to be hers and hers alone forever. “Ah,” Darcy rubbed his neck again, “Do you not think this is a fine edition?”

  Elizabeth nodded, “Indeed, it is, Mr. Darcy.” Feeling lighter now, she continued, “But you must tell me of this friend who desires to have satire read to him in old age? I believe I shall find such a character fascinating, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy smiled that slow, half smile and watched her. They were standing far too close, and the joy that Darcy felt at proof that Elizabeth was not indifferent to him shone from his countenance. Awash with bliss and hope, he was devastatingly handsome, and Elizabeth was spellbound. Darcy’s eyes caressed her face, lingering a moment on her lips before he cleared his throat and retreated a pace, “Indeed you would, Miss Bennet. Shall we?” He indicated that they leave.

  “Now, tell me, does not the Lilliput remind you of an acquaintance?” Darcy asked as they walked up the aisle.

  “I cannot think of what you mean, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Really, Miss Bennet, and you are the sketcher of characters?” Darcy teased.

  Elizabeth laughed softly. “I am sure I know, Mr. Darcy. I am only testing your acumen before I reveal the answer,” Elizabeth lifted her head haughtily.

  “Excellent strategy. I should have expected no less.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Darcy.”

  “I shall give you a hint. Small, but placing major emphasis on trivial matters, like the Lilliput.” Darcy smiled and raised his brow.

  Elizabeth laughed. “Mr. Darcy, that is uncharitable! Caroline is my sister!”

  Having made Elizabeth laugh, Darcy grinned. “Miss Bennet, I said nothing of Miss Bingley. The things you think, Miss Bennet, tsk, tsk,” Darcy shook his head.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she placed her hand over her mouth to keep from a Lydia-like snort. Darcy’s smile rivaled the Bingley beam. They stood for a moment smiling at one another. Then Darcy looked away and cleared his throat, “Shall you like a book, Miss Bennet.” Unable to speak, Elizabeth shook her head, amazed and delighted by the joy she felt in Mr. Darcy’s presence.

  Darcy and Elizabeth proceeded to the clerk, oblivious to the figure who had entered the store behind them and now watched their interactions with rage through a space in the shelf.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Francesca Waters
stared coldly at the backs of a laughing Darcy and Elizabeth as they walked arm in arm. Their interactions in the bookstore had made her grip the shelf until her palms were red. Breathing rapidly, and shaking from the fear and fury, her long legs struggled to keep up with the couple. And she had no doubt that they were a couple or would very soon be. What she had watched between Darcy and his little tart had been magnetic. Even from a row away, she could feel their excitement. Darcy was in love and not just a vain inclination. No, his deep gazes, his tense shoulders and slight shivers every time the little tart drew near, his laughter, (she had never seen him laugh), it all spoke of an all-consuming love. Francesca felt as if she were being tossed about by a hurricane. Shaking away the melancholy, she thought, I must act rapidly. I am sure they have not yet reached an agreement. The little tart was still too shy and hesitant for them to be engaged. But she knew that it would be soon. She could feel the barely suppressed energy radiating for Darcy; he was like a racehorse, impatient to run.

  Francesca assessed Elizabeth from behind. She was pretty, slender, well-formed and fashionably dressed. However, beyond her pleasing appearance, Francesca had seen the spark that radiated from her. She had also heard the witty banter, and she had wanted to scream and throw every book in that blasted store! That inherent goodness and intelligence was just the sort of thing a man with Darcy’s character would desire over outer beauty, though the little tart had a good share of that as well. Unfortunately, inherent goodness and intelligence Francesca could not claim. She was intelligent enough, but in a calculating way, and whatever goodness had once resided within had been murdered by the soul-crushing reality of being exploited, taken but not valued. Francesca tossed her head. He wanted me once, and I can make him want me again. I am an actor on the stage of life. I can play whatever role I am given. I always have, and I always will. She straightened her shoulders and took deep calming breaths and entered the next store behind the couple.

  “What I am looking for is just down this way, Mr. Darcy.” Darcy smiled as Elizabeth nearly skipped down the aisle. She picked up the item and turned to him.

  “This is it, Mr. Darcy. Do you think Georgiana will like it?”

  It was a small music box, and when it was cranked, it played a minuet. Mr. Darcy smiled softly as he remembered his mother playing the song. With a voice low and hoarse, he answered, “She will adore it, Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth gazed at him, her eyes wide with pleasure, “Truly, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Undoubtedly, Miss Bennet. It was one of my mother’s favorites songs. Georgiana has grown to love that song through the stories she has heard of our mother.” They held each other’s gaze in that delicious tension that made Darcy shiver and suppress a moan.

  His voice now reduced to a whisper, Darcy took a step closer, “You are very thoughtful, Miss Bennet. I…”

  “Fitzwilliam!”

  Darcy’s head snapped around, and his jaw tightened. Elizabeth peeped around Darcy, and her eyes widened at the beautiful woman with long legs, full lips, and smiling eyes sauntering down the aisle.

  “How lovely to meet you here.”

  “Mrs. Waters,” Darcy clipped.

  Francesca smiled, “Mrs. Waters? We have not been so formal for a very long time now, do please call me Francesca again, will you not, Fitzwilliam?”

  Darcy’s jaw twitched. When no reply was forthcoming, Francesca slid her gaze to Elizabeth. “Fitzwilliam, shall you not introduce me to your lovely companion?”

  Darcy tensed, and his nostrils flared, “Mrs. Waters, may I introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Bennet, Mrs. Francesca Waters.”

  The ladies curtsied, “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Waters.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Miss Bennet. I do not recall seeing you in London before. From where do you hail?”

  “I am from Hertfordshire, madam.”

  “Hertfordshire? I have not had the pleasure. I am sure it is a perfectly lovely place if it could produce a beauty like you. You really are very lovely.” Francesca smiled pleasantly, “And does your father have a shop there, Miss Bennet,” she asked with eyes slightly wide.

  A nerve pulsated in Darcy’s neck, and he opened his mouth to correct the insult to Elizabeth. Instead, Elizabeth laughed. “No, indeed not, Mrs. Waters. My father’s estate is in Hertfordshire.”

  Francesca frowned and placed her hand upon her chest, “Oh my, I meant no harm. Having never seen you in town, well… I am sorry to have jumped to the wrong conclusion. Please do forgive me.”

  “You have not been much in town of late to know who is known or not, have you, Mrs. Waters?” Darcy asked harshly.

  “You are correct, Fitzwilliam,” Francesca ceded. Turning a closed-lipped, but soft smile upon Elizabeth, she placed a hand lightly upon Elizabeth’s arm and bent a tad closer, “Please do accept my apologies, Miss Bennet. You seem like a lovely person; I should never like to give offense.” Beads of sweat formed just below the rim of his hat as Darcy watched Francesca touch Elizabeth.

  “Think nothing of it, Mrs. Waters,” Elizabeth said.

  Francesca’s smile broadened, “Thank you, Miss Bennet.” Removing her hand from Elizabeth’s arm, she turned to Darcy and creased her brow slightly, “But, Fitzwilliam, surely you are not here unchaperoned with a gentlemen’s daughter. Unless…”

  Darcy’s voice interrupted louder than he intended, “Mrs. Waters, there is no need to worry. Georgiana’s companion accompanied us and is resting a moment at a tea shop. We are headed there now. If you will excuse us,” Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm.

  “Pleasure to have met you, Mrs. Waters,” Elizabeth dipped a quick curtsy.

  Francesca turned and watched them walk arm in arm down the aisle. The sweet smile nearly burning a hole in her face. “It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Bennet, and I hope to see you soon, Fitzwilliam.”

  Elizabeth paid for her purchase. Once outside, Darcy walked quickly and stone-faced to collect Mrs. Annesley. Elizabeth was grateful for her years of countryside roams else she would not have been capable of keeping Darcy’s pace. Once seated in the carriage, the magnetic tension from the carriage ride to the shops was replaced by a strained one in the carriage ride home. Darcy, polite and solicitous as ever, was nevertheless preoccupied and spent most of the carriage ride gazing out the window.

  Back in his study, Darcy rubbed his hand down his face. Francesca! How dare she seek an introduction to Elizabeth! She did not know who Elizabeth was. She should have been discreet. Darcy groaned; the day had been nearly perfect. Elizabeth had smiled at him, and he shivered even now thinking of their tantalizing repartee in the carriage and in Hatchards. She had spoken of people wanting significance and love. She already had the former, Darcy marveled at how his mind had changed since those days at Netherfield, and the latter, well, Darcy could give her that in abundance, if she would let him. Darcy rubbed his chest as the threat that Francesca posed nearly sent him into a panic. Why had Francesca returned now? Was Alexander really his son? He had the look of a Darcy, but why would she wait so long to return? What was the right thing to do for the boy? And what would Elizabeth think should he be so fortunate to secure her? Darcy’s breathing slowed, and he shivered. That revelation in the bookstore caused him to want to shout for joy! Elizabeth had been jealous when she thought his friend, for whom he purchased the book, was a woman.

  She was warming to him. He noticed the difference between her mannerism now and when he thought she was flirting with him at Netherfield. Then she was saucy with a slightly salty edge. Now her sauciness was mixed sweetness, and Darcy was ready to explode! He wanted Elizabeth as he had never wanted another person. She belonged to him, and he knew it. The halls of his London home had danced alive with her presence. And what she did to him! Whew! Darcy closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his hand gripping the armchair. He just had to keep her from Saye and Lance and work out the right solution to Francesca and the little one. Darcy ran his hand down his face. He had seen El
izabeth’s attraction to Saye, and Lance was annoyingly sensible, too. Darcy huffed. How ironic that he had disparaged her ability to attract men of consequence and now he was fighting to keep them at bay; meanwhile he, a Darcy, with his bloated pride, attempted to avoid a scandal that could taint his name. Darcy shook his head and wondered what he had ever done to deserve this fresh slice of hell. All he knew is that he could not lose her. Darcy drained his drink. He would find a way.

  Elizabeth sat in the shared sitting room, her mind miles away in a bookstore where she stood close to Mr. Darcy, feeling small against his stature, and where they had laughed and teased. What is happening? Elizabeth shook her head, were her feelings beyond friendliness, beyond attraction to a handsome, kind man? She knew many men she admired, Saye, Lance, John Lucas, but was this more? Whatever this was, Elizabeth was afraid to name, fearful that once acknowledged, it would spread like the wildest fire and consume her in its path. Am I just imagining this between us? Have I misread him as thoroughly as I did in the past? Now that she was in his house the vague, 10,000 a year had taken form, and she had clear evidence of Darcy’s wealth and station so far above her own. Would he ever break with duty for her? “Stop being foolish, Lizzy!” she muttered aloud. “Why would Mr. Darcy choose a country girl with nothing to recommend her but being an excellent walker and an inappropriate family when with his wealth and position, he could have anyone he wanted?”

  Elizabeth sighed, and what of the woman we met, Mrs. Waters. Although she seemed amiable, Darcy had stiffened and was eager to leave her company. Elizabeth’s stomach churned. Her uncertain feelings for Darcy, along with the realization of the disparity of their stations, and this mysterious woman who had rendered Mr. Darcy strangely contemplative during the carriage ride home, caused her to feel alarmed. Her budding feelings were perched upon a house of cards. Just then Elizabeth remembered that Darcy had decried her ability to attract men like him, men of consequence. Elizabeth sighed and picked up the book that lay in her lap. She would guard her heart.