Men of Consequence

by Francine Rainey

  Caroline’s face resembled someone who had been forced to drink lemonade without the sugar. “He was escorting Miss Bennet?” she spat.

  “Why yes, you are acquainted with her?” Francesca asked, wide-eyed, and innocently.

  “Yes,” Caroline pursed her lips and jutted her chin, “I am acquainted with her.” She took a sip of her tea and sighed. “She is sister to my brother’s wife.”

  Eureka! Francesca cried within. Swallowing her excitement, she answered softly, “So, you are connected. I know I have been away for a while, but I wondered having never heard of the Bennet family how she came to know the Darcys?”

  “Well, they met at my brother’s estate in Hertfordshire…”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Well?” Hayden pounced as soon as she walked into the drawing room. “Who is she?”

  “Good morning to you, too, Hayden.”

  “Do not toy with me. Did you find out who Miss Bennet is?

  “Yes.” Francesca poured herself a drink while Hayden’s foot tapped furiously on the floor.

  “She is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the second daughter of a minor landowner in Hertfordshire.”

  “So, not an heiress?”

  “No, far from it,” Francesca smirked.

  “Good, then that makes it easier to separate them. What else did you learn of her?” Francesca informed Hayden of the Bingleys and of Elizabeth’s connection to them.

  Hayden’s brow furrowed, “You are saying that she has no wealth and her highest connection is to this Bingley family whose wealth was obtained through trade? Hah!” Hayden beamed, “Well, this should be easy to separate them!”

  “Why should it be easy if Fitzwilliam loves her?”

  “Surely you are incorrect about that. How could the great Fitzwilliam Darcy love such an insignificant woman? The Darcys crush people they consider beneath them. They rip out their hearts and trample on them! Surely what you saw in his behavior had to do with a relationship of another kind.”

  Hayden sat, wearing that sinister Hayden smirk, and Francesca shivered. You can only see one side of Fitzwilliam, the side you have decided to hate, she thought. Francesca knew what she had seen. Fitzwilliam was in love, and he would marry Miss Bennet – if she could not stop him. However, arguing with Hayden was futile, so she changed the subject.

  “At any rate, we have a bigger problem,” Francesca’s eyes flitted quickly to Hayden and back down. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, “Matlock is said to return from the continent – before the end of the year, perhaps in a month.”

  Hayden catapulted from the chair, “A month! Is this certain?”

  “It is what I heard from a friend of Hetty’s. I cannot be certain, but neither can we disregard it.” Francesca frowned and tapped her finger rapidly upon the arm of her chair.

  Hayden banged the table with such force that Francesca nearly leapt from her seat. With large eyes and elevated breathing, she turned to Hayden who spoke in a soft voice, a contrast to the violent action, “We need to accelerate our plans.”

  Olivia Acton entered her drawing room and halted. “Mr. Acton, how wonderful you have arrived! I did not think to see you until after luncheon! What a marvelous visit I had, my dear! Indeed, I did! Hetty is well and sends her love, but you will never guess who called, my dear! Indeed, you will not! Indeed, it was Francesca Waters back from deportation!” Acton eyed his wife momentarily from over his paper, shook his head, and returned to reading. “Yes, and just as lovely as ever. She has been staying somewhere in the south with a cousin who was obliging enough to die and leave her a nest egg!”

  “It is always helpful when relatives die for one’s benefit,” Mr. Acton answered dryly.

  “Indeed, it was. Oh, and we also kept company with a Miss Brixton, no Miss Birkenhead, no, no, oh dear! Miss Bingham! That is it! What a lovely young lady! Oh, here is my letter from Miss Harwood! Yes, it is just as I told Hetty, the Matlocks return in a week, yes a week!” Mrs. Acton’s brow creased as she reread the letter. “Well, that is highly irregular, how can this letter say the Matlocks return in a week? I was certain it said a fortnight, or was it a month complete?” Olivia reread the portion of the letter and then and looked at its date. “Hmm, well it seems the Matlocks will return by week’s end, dearest. Is that not grand! It means that Lady Matlock will have enough time to host a ball and a dinner, and I will not have to wait until the festive season! I do so hope she hosts a ball, for as I said to Hetty, all the best debutantes will be there…”

  Richard stood at the threshold of Darcy’s study. Darcy sat behind his desk, his chair turned sideways, twiddling a quill through his fingers, and staring out the window. Richard watched him for a moment, Darcy’s brow was creased, his jaw clenched, and his posture tense. His cousin had too many burdens; he would need to help him out. Richard sighed, stepped through the door and… bang! He slammed the door shut.

  “What the…!” Darcy jerked and swiveled with a furious scowl, “Richard! What the devil are you doing!” Darcy shouted, rising from his chair.

  Richard sauntered into the room and slid lazily into an armchair. “I find I do not like to be ignored. It quite brings out the vindictiveness in me.”

  “You mean the child in you,” Darcy huffed.

  “Well, hello to you, too, Cousin,” Richard folded his arms and stretched out his legs.

  Darcy exhaled, his shoulders slacking as they released the tension. Richard smiled inwardly, his antics had accomplished the mission, at least temporarily. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Darcy said with a mocking bow.

  “Must I have a reason to visit my favorite cousin?”

  “As we have noted previously, Georgiana will likely be found in the music room. You should have stopped there first.”

  “In the music room with the delectable Miss Bennet?” Richard waggled his eyebrows. “Perhaps, I should have stopped there first! The smiles of beautiful ladies are so much more enjoyable than that horrible Darcy scowl you greeted me with!”

  Darcy shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  Richard chuckled, “That will do for the present. Pour me a drink, Cousin, and I will tell you why I have come.”

  February 1806 – Six years before

  The fire crackled and popped. Francesca curled up on the sofa and watched the light flicker upon the fireplace walls. Pemberley was enchanting, the most wonderful place she had ever been. To call such a place home, to call him home, was more than she had ever dreamed, especially after being traded by her father and controlled by her husband. She sighed, smiled, and snuggled closer into her blanket as she thought of Darcy’s endearing, awkward kindness. He was so young, yet she could see the man he would become, the man he was trying to be now as he stood tall and stiff, giving orders with a broken heart, and caring for others over himself. She grimaced and drunk her tea too quickly, scalding her throat as images of his innocence, his pain, and his vulnerability assaulted her mind. She shook her head as if such a gesture could force away the pictures and with it the guilt of her own duplicity. No, she would love him, give him the comfort he needed, and that would justify her actions.

  Francesca turned her head toward the door as Lilly Hayden entered. Her distant cousin Lilly, Mrs. Hayden or Hayden, as she had been instructed to call her, was as tall and as broad as a man, not unattractive, but her large size combined with her small dowry had left her without a suitor. Therefore, Lilly had assumed the appellation “Mrs.” as a veneer of respectability: but she was a spinster indeed – and a bitter one at that who blamed the Darcys for the loss of the only person she had ever loved. Francesca uncurled her legs and sat straighter; her eyes widened as Lilly Hayden lumbered toward her.

  “Why are you here?” Lilly hissed. “Have you accomplished the goal? You are in his bed, but still, he has not been brought around. Do you think that being his mistress is enough? No, he will toss you aside as soon as he tires of you.” Lilly’s face was twisted in a fea
rsome scowl. She grabbed Francesca by the arm and pulled her to her feet. Francesca yelped from the pain but quickly suppressed it, for Lilly had no tolerance for weakness. Francesca was tall, but Lilly was still nearly a head taller and much broader. Small crow’s feet crinkled at the corners of Lilly’s eyes, and wrinkles had formed on her aging skin. But Lilly was still strong, despite her being in her fifth decade. Now, face to face with Lilly was like looking at hatred personified. “You will go and fi…”

  “Pardon me,” the ladies gasped and jumped apart as Darcy’s booming baritone caused them to turn toward the door. Darcy stood frowning, looking between the two of them, clearly disturbed, but not fully understanding what he had witnessed.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Lilly smiled sweetly as she transformed into her companion persona, “we, we, we were just discussing the fit of one of Mrs. Waters’ gowns.” Lilly turned to Francesca, “I will go now and see to the measurements, Mrs. Waters.” Lilly curtsied and quickly left the room.

  Darcy watched Lilly exit still frowning, then he slowly approached Francesca, his head slightly tilted, “Are you well?”

  “Yes, yes.” She cleared her throat and laughed a little. “Sometimes Mrs. Hayden is a bit forceful in her opinions, but she means well,” Francesca smiled and pulled Darcy’s arm to sit with her. “Tell me, how was your day?” Darcy watched her for a long moment before he cleared his throat and answered her question.

  Francesca sat now in her leased townhome, a long way from Pemberley, but with another chance to secure her future, and she would succeed – then she would find a way to rid herself of her tormentors.

  “I have heard from Marshalls,” Richard said.

  “I presumed as much. What did he find?”

  “Well, he was unable to locate anyone from that area who knew a Francesca Waters, but there was an elderly woman who recently passed who had a few servants. When she died, her servants took their pensions and left the region. The locals did say that they had no knowledge of her housing a cousin for any length of time, which is suspicious, but understandable if Mrs. Waters were ill and attempting to hide her condition.”

  “Yes, but did not Francesca state that after the birth of Alexander, she passed him off as the son of her late husband? Why would she need to hide?”

  “I see you have come to that conclusion as well. There would have been no reason to hide if she did as she said; however, she also said that she was sick for a considerable amount of time which could account for the neighbors not having seen her initially, but Alexander is what four years old now? Surely, they would have socialized with the neighborhood in that amount of time,” Richard said, and Darcy rubbed his chin and looked out at a distance. Richard watched, after a while, he continued, “There is something more.”

  Darcy looked up.

  “Marshalls found the birth registry in the local parish.” Richard grimaced. “Alexander William Waters, born 17 September 1806.”

  Darcy sighed, “So, he is mine, that was seven months after she left Pemberley. Even if the rest of her story does not add up, the birth record proves it,” Darcy sighed and rubbed his hand down his face.

  “It would seem so – except.”

  Darcy looked at Richard, “Except what?”

  “Except, and I do not yet know what to make of this, but Marshalls says that the clergy was nervous when asked for the registry. And he has the reputation of being less than stellar. He is the third son of a gentleman and did not desire to take orders; however, his father offered some small allowance to keep him from choosing the military. Tis a shame, men of the cloth should be called. Anyway, the gossip is that the vicar can be bought; the parishioners are disgusted.”

  Darcy steepled his hands as he considered the implications. Finally, he spoke, “So, your man has found no one in the community who remembers Francesca, there is a birth record that corresponds to the date, but a dishonest vicar who can be bought?”

  “Seems so.”

  “But, Richard, why would Francesca go to so much trouble? And where would she find the money for a bribe? Something is missing,” Darcy stood and walked to the window.

  “I agree that something is missing. As to where Francesca would obtain the funds, there are other ways to bribe a dishonest man than money. Anyway, the more I learn, the more inclined I am to mistrust Francesca’s story. I have told Marshalls to continue searching; however, we may need to make a trip ourselves very soon, before she makes demands you may not want to fulfill.”

  “You are likely right, Cousin; however, I am reluctant to leave just now. I had hoped to stay in town for another week or so.”

  Richard smirked, “Does your availability to travel coincide with the departure back to the Bingleys of the delectable Miss Bennet?”

  Darcy turned sharply, “What are you implying?”

  “Come now, Darcy. You have allowed a beautiful young woman to stay in your home without her family.”

  “What are you saying? Miss Bennet is Georgiana’s guest, and Mrs. Annesley is a capable chaperone. There is no impropriety here,” Darcy scowled.

  “Calm yourself, Cousin. I am not accusing you. I am just pointing out that you, who have avoided every social engagement possible and even refused to dance with young ladies so as not to raise their expectations, now have an eligible and beautiful young woman staying under your roof for some duration. What gives?” Richard raised a brow.

  Darcy turned back to the window.

  “Come, Darcy,” Richard leaned forward, his voice devoid of teasing, “What gives? Do you have designs upon Miss Bennet?”

  Darcy cupped his hands behind his back and continued to stare out of the window.

  Though Richard was confident he had his answer, he decided to try a different tactic. Looking at his nails, he spoke casually. “Saye has asked me on numerous occasions what I think of Miss Bennet.” Darcy turned so quickly, Richard was sure he felt the wind tousle his locks, but still, Darcy did not answer. “He wondered whether you would be open to his calling upon her here.”

  “Blast it!” Darcy sighed and closed his eyes. Richard waited.

  After a very long time, Darcy said quietly, “I love her.”

  “You love whom?”

  Darcy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “You know very well, ‘whom,’ Richard! I love Elizabeth Bennet. She is everything to me,” Darcy sighed and rested his head on the windowpane. “I am undone.”

  Richard grinned. “That is wonderful, Darce! When shall I wish you joy!”

  Darcy huffed.

  “Surely you have made your interest known?”

  Darcy walked to his chair and sat down slowly. “It is, it is more complicated than that.”

  “Complicated? You are one of the most sought-after bachelors in England. If you love her, what are you waiting for, Man!”

  “If you must know, I am waiting for the lady, Richard.”

  “For the lady?” Richard creased his brow and shook his head as if to shake some incredulous thought from it. “For the lady to what Darcy, ask you? Have you been so isolated from society that you have forgotten the rules?” Richard laughed.

  “Very droll, Cousin. I do remember the rules, thank you,” Darcy leaned his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. “If you must know, I am waiting for the lady to, to, well, to like me!”

  Richard gaped, then he leaned forward with his hand on his belly and dissolved into frenzied laughter.

  Darcy turned his head and took a deep breath and exhaled, “I am glad my circumstance can bring you such joy, Cousin.”

  “Forgive me, Darce,” Richard pursed his lips to quell his mirth. “But what did you do to make the amiable Miss Bennet dislike you, and how have you fallen in love with her despite it?” Richard asked, with laughter still bursting from his voice.

  Darcy asked sharply, “Who said the fault was mine?”

  “Come now, Cousin,” Richard gave him a side glance.

  “Fine,�
� Darcy relented, shoulders sagging in surrender. “I may have insulted her appearance when first introduced.” Richard eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. “But in my defense, I was only trying to stop Bingley from pestering me to dance, and I did not know that Miss Bennet could hear.”

  Richard motioned for Darcy to continue. Sighing, Darcy related the entire story of the Meryton Assembly.

  “Whew, Darcy! I do not know if I am more shocked that you would say such about any woman just to avoid a dance, or that you would say that particularly about the beautiful Miss Bennet. And she heard you?”

  “Apparently.”

  “How did you discover that she had?”

  Darcy glanced at Richard then away again, “This is not the first time I shared a roof with Miss Bennet.”

  “What!” Richard’s brow attempted to merge with his hairline again.

  Darcy chuckled. “When I stayed at Netherfield, her sister took ill, and Miss Bennet came for a week to nurse her. I, we had the most intriguing conversations. Miss Bennet refused to give in to me; she challenged me and teased me. Her wit was sharp, and at times she bordered on impertinent, but it was all done with a glint in her eye and an arched smile.” Darcy paused and looked off into the distance, “I found her adorable. I was stimulated beyond anything I have ever experienced. I thought her flirting with me, and I tried to keep her at a distance, but I was pulled in, and I could not resist.”

  “Then why did you not speak with her?”

  “My pride, Cousin! I thought her beneath me, her lack of wealth and abysmal connections, and my duty to the great Darcy name!” Darcy shook his head and huffed. “I ran away to forget her, but that was impossible.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, “She was already a part of me. When she came to town, I tried to stay away, but I was pulled in like the planets to the sun.” Darcy’s breathing slowed as Richard waited, all laughter gone now. Finally, Darcy opened his eyes and leaned forward. “When I saw her with Saye, at the theater,” Darcy glanced at Richard. Richard nodded. “I felt as if someone had torn my heart from my body. It was as if I was watching my future burn up in a ferocious blaze. I knew then that all my objections were vain. What was the ton’s approbation in light of the loss of her?”