Men of Consequence

by Francine Rainey

  “I nearly gasped when Elizabeth informed me that Miss Bingley wanted to walk with her.” Georgiana chattered on as Darcy helped her to her chair. “I wondered where they walked,” Georgiana said, then she laughed and covered her mouth with her hand, “what am I saying! Miss Bingley would only walk in Hyde Park where she would be seen by ton.”

  Darcy sat heavily in his chair. Caroline had not walked in Hyde Park, proof that she and Francesca had worked together. His mind swirled with the implication of Georgiana’s words, and his heart shattered at Elizabeth’s absence.

  As the day ended, Elizabeth reclined in her bed staring up at the canopy; the scenes of the day assaulting her senses. She should have known that Caroline was up to something when she eschewed the closer and more fashionable Hyde Park for that obscure little park in a nearly unfashionable part of town.

  “Why do we need a carriage, when the Park is only steps from here?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No, Eliza. I cannot possibly walk and think there. I shall be stopped by my many friends. No, I happened upon a much quieter place not far from here. It shall probably remind you of your rustic fields of Hertfordshire rather than the fashionable and well-kempt gardens of Hyde Park which I am sure can be overwhelming for someone not accustomed to such splendor. You shall love the place I have in mind; I am certain.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. It was clear that Francesca and Caroline had worked together. They wanted her to see, and see she did. Francesca with her hand on Mr. Darcy’s back, her bosom pressed onto his arm, as they smiled indulgently at that beautiful boy with their heads close together. Elizabeth flung her arm across her face. The intimacy of the scene had nearly knocked her from her feet. She was certain that Caroline gripping her arm had been the only thing keeping her upright. And Caroline! She had, had no reaction to that intimate scene, which was all the evidence Elizabeth required to know that it was planned. Caroline, who had chased Mr. Darcy to the point of obsession, could not have possibly viewed that scene with composure without prior knowledge.

  However, Caroline knowing did not change Elizabeth’s seeing. Elizabeth turned on her side and shoved a wayward strain of hair from her face. She knew Darcy to be a man of duty and principles. Would he marry Francesca because of Alexander? And what of Caroline’s assertion that it was safer to make Alexander his heir than to risk taking a wife who may be incapable of bearing a son? Mrs. Bennet had only had daughters. Elizabeth frowned.

  And Francesca! Was she still his mistress? Elizabeth gripped her stomach and moaned, feeling suddenly nauseated. Elizabeth remembered how uncomfortable Darcy always seemed when Francesca was near, the tension in his stance, and the pointed looks. Could it have been because he was afraid that their relationship would come to light? What did this mean for what was budding between them? Elizabeth groaned; the sheer number of questions made her want to scream. She kicked the covers from her and rose to look out into the night. Dim light from the moon covered the beautiful Darcy garden. Elizabeth’s eyes traveled unbidden to those revelatory tulips, those floral seers. They were closed now at the defection of the sun, the joy stripped from them, gripped as they were in the thick darkness. Elizabeth sighed and mimicked the flowers. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the glass.

  Tuesday morning, Darcy was awakened by the rain hitting the windows. Darcy turned onto his back and placed his arm over his eyes. He had to leave today, and he was desperate to speak to Elizabeth. He threw the counterpane from his body. This blasted rain will slow our pace, Darcy thought as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. Sighing, Darcy threw his legs over the bed and rang for his valet.

  Dressed, Darcy rushed into the breakfast room and halted, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Elizabeth was absent. Suddenly his legs felt like lead as he dragged them into the room, the fear of not seeing Elizabeth, of not being allowed to explain before his travel, threatened to fell him. He sat as the footman brought his paper and coffee – both laid untouched. It was early, but he could not shake the horrible feeling that Elizabeth would not come, and he would have to leave for days with this misunderstanding between them, and his fate suspended. He did not know if he could bear it. The aroma of the food wafted up and reminded him that eating was more prudent than desirable, for he had a long day of travel ahead. Darcy ate without tasting.

  One hour later, Darcy stood in the foyer looking up at the stairs. Both Richard’s trunk and his had been loaded into the carriage, and he had already embraced Georgiana. Yet he stood, hat in hand, staring at the staircase.

  “Come, Cousin, we must leave,” Richard said.

  She had not come. Darcy turned to leave, dread causing him to drag his feet. He stepped slowly onto the porch behind Richard, who bounded down the stairs and into the carriage. Darcy paused, suspended, with one foot on the step above and one foot below. The rain slashed into his face and trickled down his neck, but Darcy felt none of it, as a life without Elizabeth, stark, joyless and lonely, flashed before his eyes.

  “Darcy, what are you about? Come, get in the carriage!” Richard bellowed.

  Darcy glanced at Richard, and then back at the door, and then he turned and bounded up the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Have you forgotten something, Mr. Darcy?” Johns asked as Darcy strode through the door.

  “No! Yes! Have Mrs. Pennington come to my study in five minutes,” Darcy shouted as he rushed to his study, grabbed paper and pen, and scrawled his note.

  By the time Mrs. Pennington entered, Darcy had sanded the note and was preparing the wax for his signet ring. “Mrs. Pennington, what I am about to request must be held in the strictest confidence.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Has Miss Bennet come down to breakfast?”

  “No, she ordered a tray in her room, sir.”

  “Has it been delivered?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good,” Darcy nodded. “Mrs. Pennington, you must know that I have only honorable intentions toward Miss Bennet.” Mrs. Pennington smiled; her suspicions confirmed. “However, there has been a misunderstanding, the details of which I cannot disclose, but I must attempt to clear it up before I can leave.” Mrs. Pennington nodded. She knew the misunderstanding likely had to do with that horrid Miss Bingley, whose visit caused Miss Bennet to take to her room.

  “I need for you to take Miss Bennet her breakfast, and place this note on the tray, making certain no one else can view it. Am I clear?”

  “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Again, I have only honorable intentions toward Miss Bennet and would not have considered writing to her, but I must speak before it is too late.”

  “Rest easy, Master Darcy, I am certain you would do nothing to harm Miss Bennet, and you may be assured that I will see to the matter just as you have requested.” Darcy nodded and bounded for the carriage.

  Back in the carriage, Richard’s ears were red. “What gives, Darcy?” Richard thundered as Darcy folded his frame into the carriage. Darcy sat with a scowl, then shook his head.

  “That will not work, Cousin. I have sat in this stuffy carriage, in this blasted rain, waiting, while you act as skittish as a colt. What gives?” Richard looked at him, hard.

  Darcy sighed. It would be better to speak now and be done with it. Darcy looked out the window, then back at Richard, “Elizabeth knows.”

  “She knows what?”

  “About Alexander.”

  Richard’s eyes widened. “Did you tell her?”

  “No, no. Not yet.” Darcy closed his eyes and shook his head. “But I should have.”

  “What happened?”

  Darcy related the story of the park. When Darcy finished, Richard shook his head, “Tough break, Darcy. What did she say?”

  Darcy threw up his hands, “I have not had a chance to speak with her! When I returned home, she had gone to visit her relations, the Gardiners – in a hackney, Richard! By the time she had returned, I was
with my solicitor.” Darcy sighed, and his voice quieted, “She did not come down for dinner,” he folded his arms across his chest, “nor breakfast.”

  Richard watched Darcy’s pinched, drawn face. His eyes were hollow, and there were dark circles beneath them, and his normally erect, confident cousin, sat with slightly drooping shoulders. Richard had not seen Darcy display such misery since having the burden of Pemberley hoisted upon his young shoulders. Richard knew that Darcy had finally surrendered to a great love and that Elizabeth had brought joy to his cousin’s dour existence. He did not want to see Darcy live his life alone and lonely, existing for duty. His cousin deserved better.

  “Maybe it shall be alright, Darce,” Richard spoke quietly. “Miss Bennet is a warm, giving woman; she will understand.”

  Darcy spoke as if he had not heard Richard, his eyes gazing at the passing scenery. “When she saw us, Francesca holding my arm as if she belonged there and Alexander in my arms, her eyes, so expressive, looked as if the sorrow had robbed them of all their life. I lost mother and father. I cannot lose her too.” Darcy leaned forward and put his head in his hand, thick gloom pressing upon him as if it would squeeze out his life. Richard turned quietly to the window, attempting to give Darcy what little privacy he could.

  When Darcy leaned back into his seat, Richard turned toward him. Darcy’s eyes were bleak as if someone had stolen his soul. “Darcy, think about it,” Richard began, “Miss Bennet being upset was likely more from the picture that I am certain Francesca attempted to portray than from your having a son.”

  Darcy continued to look bleakly out the window. “The picture was false.” Darcy turned to Richard, his brow creased in confusion. “You are not planning a future with Mrs. Waters. Once Miss Bennet is assured of that, it will be well. I saw the two of you at Georgiana’s dinner, your eyes beckoned her, and she responded to the call.”

  Darcy’s heart started to beat again. “Take heart, Cousin,” Richard said. “I do not know if Miss Bennet loves you, but I know she is not indifferent. She will not be easily swayed once she is aware that Francesca has no claim to your heart.” Darcy stared at Richard for a long while, then he sat up a little straighter.

  “When does Bingley return?”

  Darcy shrugged, “Bingley is an indifferent correspondent, but I do not think soon, for neither Elizabeth nor Georgiana has mentioned her leaving.”

  “Good, good. Then she will be there when you return, and hopefully what Father has to impart will pave your way forward.”

  Darcy nodded, more hopeful than he had felt since the terrible scene in the park. Matlock may have information that would help him know what to do, and Elizabeth would be in his home, away from Saye and Lance.

  Both men looked at the passing landscape from their respective windows. “Francesca is a sly one,” Richard ventured. “I am not sure how she and Miss Bingley connected, but I am certain it was planned.”

  “It has puzzled me exceedingly. That her objective was to inform Elizabeth of our past and introduce her to Alexander was certain, but how did she become in cohorts with Caroline? And why would they work together?

  “Perhaps they joined to eliminate their true rival, Miss Bennet, each assuming that once Miss Bennet is gone, she will be your choice.”

  Darcy’s eyes lit up, “I think you may have it!” Darcy tapped his finger along the bench. “It makes perfect sense.”

  “I wonder how they met?”

  “I know not, but both of them will regret the day they decided to interfere in my affairs.”

  Thursday morning, Elizabeth sat in the drawing room of the Bingley townhouse. Jane and Bingley had returned two days after Mr. Darcy’s departure. She had been happy to see her sister and brother, but leaving Georgiana, leaving Darcy house had felt wrong. Georgiana had hugged her and cried, and they had promised to call on one another as often as they could.

  Elizabeth blinked and surveyed her surroundings. Jane and Bingley had taken breakfast in their rooms to recuperate from their travels. All alone, Elizabeth pulled Darcy’s note from the folds of her book and read it for the millionth time.

  Dear EB,

  I implore you, do not be alarmed at the receipt of this letter, nor at the scene you happened upon in the park. I have much I desire to share with you. I desired to offer an explanation yesterday, but you were not present when I returned, nor at dinner, nor to my infinite sadness again at breakfast. I must leave for a few days to attend to urgent business with my Uncle Matlock; however, I shall not stay a second longer than needed. I will hasten back to you like water returning to the sea. Then I will explain all to you. I will withhold nothing. Wait for me. Please.

  Yours,

  FD

  Elizabeth sighed, what did it all mean? Her thoughts and feelings were twisted and jumbled; nothing made sense. She was pleased that she had cautioned herself. I have guarded my heart, she thought, then a deep frown settled upon her lovely face, have I not?

  Late Thursday, Darcy and Richard arrived at Matlock’s estate after two and a half days of hard travel. They had been greeted and fawned over by Lady Matlock, refreshed with tea, and sent to their chambers to rest and prepare for dinner. Darcy knew that there was insufficient time to question Matlock before dinner, but he could hardly contain his anticipation. Now, sitting at dinner with his relations, it seemed as if every story shared was prolonged for his agony. Darcy’s fork clanged against his plate after the third time Lord Matlock repeated the same line of his interminable tale.

  Darcy stiffened as all eyes followed the sound. The earl paused and regarded Darcy. “I say, Darcy, I believe that is the only sound we have heard from you all dinner. Are you getting a little long in the tooth so that the journey, even in your well-sprung carriage, was too tedious?” Matlock smiled.

  “Come now, Father, Darcy was as pleasant a companion as ever,” Richard smirked.

  “Really, Son?” Matlock’s raised brow mirrored Richard’s.

  “Of course! As is Darcy’s way, he chattered incessantly, no subject was off limits. I even believe he spoke of bonnets and lace!”

  The Earl of Matlock belly laughed, “Now I have heard it all! Bonnets and lace, indeed.”

  Darcy shook his head with a ghost of a smile. “Truly, the journey was tedious, Uncle. However, it was not the carriage but my companion who was tiresome. How anyone else can sleep with that beastly snoring is beyond me.” Lady Matlock and Stephen joined Lord Matlock in laughter as Richard assumed a wounded expression.

  “Et tu, Mater?” Richard whined as his mother laughed. “Your favorite son comes home from guarding England’s shores, and you side with the enemy?”

  “Wait, who said you are the favorite? Everyone knows Mother loves me best for I am the most handsome,” Stephen Fitzwilliam, Viscount Hardston posed as if sitting for a portrait by the finest artist.

  “Come you two. If you do not behave as adults, I will send for Nurse Frawn,” Sarah Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock warned. Both men sat upright and tucked into their dinners, sending warning looks toward the other over their plates.

  Darcy smiled at their childish antics, happy to see Richard back at home, and Hardston thriving.

  “Now, William, when will you leave us?” Lady Matlock asked.

  Tomorrow! Darcy thought as he glanced quickly at his uncle before answering. “I anticipate a short visit, Aunt Sarah; I must return as soon my business has concluded.”

  “Come, Wife, let us enjoy our nephew’s company without badgering him to stay until Boxing Day!”

  “I rarely see his handsome face. Do not blame me for wanting to keep him a little longer.” Sarah Fitzwilliam had caught the glance Darcy had sent her husband. She was confident there was something they were not sharing, but she was equally confident that she would find out in good time.

  “Is my handsome face not enough for you, Mother?” Stephen asked with wounded puppy eyes. His look sent the Fitzwilliam family into peals of laughter. Darcy watche
d with a smile; Elizabeth would love their banter, he thought. Their easy comradery momentarily lightened his tension; meanwhile, it simultaneously stoked the yearning within him for time spent thus with Elizabeth, and sons and daughters of their own.

  Friday morning, Colonel Saye walked down the steps of his solicitor’s office looking down at the paper in his hand. Meanwhile, Bingley jogged up the same stairs patting his pockets to ensure he carried the documents brought back from his uncle’s business. “Oof!” The two men collided. “Colonel Saye! Wonderful to see you!”

  “Well met, Bingley!” Saye smiled as he exaggeratedly moved his shoulder, “and it seems you have saved me from a visit to Jackson’s this week.”

  “I say, sorry for bowling into you, Chap!”

  “Think nothing of it! When did you return to town?”

  “Just yesterday.”

  “I trust you had a pleasant trip.”

  “Yes, very pleasant. Though Jane was eager to return to her sister.”

  “Ah, the exquisite Miss Bennet. I envy you the company of such lovely ladies.”

  “Yes, I am most fortunate in my wife, and her sister is quite charming as well.”

  “Indeed, well, I shall not keep you from your appointment.”

  “Good day, Colonel.”

  “Bingley,” Saye nodded. So, the lovely Miss Bennet has been freed from the evil dragon’s castle. Saye smiled and increased his pace.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Francesca placed her ear to the study door, hearing nothing, she glanced over her shoulder, turned the handle slowly, and peered inside. It was empty, so she quickly stepped in and closed the door softly behind her. She shivered and halted. The room was dark and chilly; she opened the curtains. It was a little used room, for Hayden’s primary business was revenge, and that did not necessitate study space. The desk was littered with unread newspapers, and Francesca sat behind it and rifled through the drawers. She feared that Hayden’s rage would ruin all her plans, and she needed to find something, anything that she could use as leverage.