Francesca opened one drawer after another, empty. Huffing, she turned to the bookcase, nothing there but random and old ornaments left behind by former occupants. Just as she turned away, a small chest that looked out of place caught her eye. Standing on her toes, she pulled it from the shelf. Francesca removed a pin from her hair and picked the lock. When she opened it, she could see that the chest belonged to Hayden. Her heart pumped faster. She rummaged through personal letters, a wooden soldier, a whittled horse, a broken gold pocket watch bearing the initials GAD. GAD, Francesca’s brow creased, I wonder if it belonged to George Darcy. Casting all those items aside, Francesca was about to abandon her search, when in the corner of the box, she spotted something. She picked it up and turned it slowly in her hand, then a slow smile spread across her face. This will be useful. I may not have found what I needed against Hayden, but with this, I will send that country girl back to where she belongs. Francesca returned the chest, tip-toed from the study, and called for the carriage.
“Have a seat,” Matlock said as Darcy and Richard entered his study after breakfast. The three sat in a cluster of chairs by the window. No drinks were offered as by silent agreement all men were focused on the matter at hand.
“Tell me what has occurred,” Matlock addressed Darcy and gone was the convivial companion from the dinner table, replaced by the powerful earl, fierce protector of his family.
“Mrs. Waters returned about a month ago,” Alfred Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock sat with his hands steepled and eyes closed until Darcy finished his tale. Finally, he looked up, “Why are you convinced that the boy is yours?”
Darcy shrugged. “He was born seven months after her departure from Pemberley,” Darcy cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “And I was not exactly careful during that time,” Darcy glanced at his uncle and then away again. “He also has the look of a Darcy, and since the only male relatives I have on the Darcy side are distant relatives in France, it stands to reason he is mine.”
Matlock pursed his lips. Darcy and Richard watched and waited. “What do you think, Son?”
Richard shrugged, “What Darcy says is true. The boy is a near copy of Darcy, and the birth record confirms the date; however,” Richard glanced at Darcy, “my man reported that the vicar in that area has a less than stellar reputation.” Matlock raised his brow and then stared at a point behind their heads. “What do you think, Father?”
Matlock cleared his throat, “I have advocated in the House of Lords for a civil registry rather than relying upon the records of the parishes. But that is not germane to our situation now.” Matlock tapped his finger on his lip, “If the boy has the distinctive look of a Darcy and was born seven months after Mrs. Waters departure, he could very well be Darcy’s son.”
I have traveled two and a half days and left without speaking to Elizabeth for THIS! Darcy turned his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“What is it that Mrs. Waters wants, Darcy?”
Darcy took a deep breath and returned his gaze to his uncle, “She said that she wanted me to know my son and him, his father,” Darcy omitted the last row they had where she implied that he should marry her and claim Alexander as his heir.
Richard sniffed and smirked.
“Hmm, well, I will say for certainty that is not the only thing they want.”
Yes, yes, I know, I know. Darcy rubbed the back of his neck and then shook his head. Suddenly his head snapped up, and he stared into his uncle’s penetrating gaze. “THEY?” Darcy asked with brows creased. “Who are ‘they,’ Uncle?”
Francesca sat outside of the Bingley townhouse, taking several long breaths to quell her frustration. She had gone to Darcy’s house only to discover that Elizabeth was no longer in residence. When she had appealed to her very old and dear friendship with Darcy to gain information on Elizabeth’s whereabouts, it had failed. For all the purported shyness she had heard about Georgiana, that girl was a Darcy through and through. Georgiana had politely informed her that she would let Elizabeth know that she sought her. Francesca had smiled, while inwardly seething. I have defied Fitzwilliam’s orders to stay away for nothing, she thought. Her rejection at Darcy house necessitated a tiresome half-hour visit with Caroline where she had to listen to Caroline crow about her success in deceiving Elizabeth. As if she had concocted the plan! Francesca had thought. Now, finally, she sat collecting herself in front of the Bingley’s elegant townhouse that was far closer to Darcy’s than was the Hurst’s where she had been forced to visit Caroline. Francesca shook her head and breathed deeply before smoothing her face into a pleasant expression and opening the carriage door.
“Miss Bennet,” Elizabeth glanced up at the housekeeper. “A Mrs. Waters to see you, ma’am.” Elizabeth sighed. “Thank you, Mrs. Wheatley, send her in and please send in tea as well.” When the housekeeper left, Elizabeth tucked the note from Darcy into the sleeve of her dress. As she waited, she valiantly fought the urge to perform an unladylike slouch to the back of the couch complete with folded arms, pouty lips, and a scowl that would make Lydia proud. I know what you are about Mrs. Waters. My courage will rise as it always does.
“Mrs. Waters, ma’am.”
Elizabeth rose and smiled. “Welcome, I trust you are well today?” I will not say it is a pleasure to see.
“Darling Elizabeth, how well you look.” Hmm, too attractive by half.
“Thank you, Mrs. Waters. Please do be seated.”
“Elizabeth, I am quite put out with you,” Francesca pouted.
“Oh dear, that sounds ominous!”
“You did not tell me you had moved from Darcy House. I did not know where to find you.”
“That is easily explained. My brother and sister just arrived, and I had burdened the Darcys long enough. My apologies, Mrs. Waters, for any inconvenience,” Elizabeth smiled.
“I am sure you could never be a burden.” Elizabeth busied herself serving the tea. “And what is this ‘Mrs. Waters’? I thought we agreed that friends should not be so formal,” Francesca smiled and very slowly patted Elizabeth, her hand lingering upon Elizabeth’s arm.
“Indeed, you are correct. Friends should not be so formal.” Which is why I call you Mrs. Waters, Elizabeth thought but smiled instead.
“Wonderful!” Francesca said brightly. “What a charming home, you have here, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth sat her tea down quickly. “I have forgotten my manners. Please forgive me for not mentioning that my sister, Mrs. Bingley, is unable to join us. She is resting from travels and would be pleased to greet you at another time.”
“Do not fret. It was presumptuous of me to show up unannounced.”
Especially since the knocker was not even out, Elizabeth thought as she sipped her tea.
“But I was certain that we planned an outing for today, did we not?”
Elizabeth pursed her lips and turned her head slightly, “I do not believe we had a fixed date.”
“Well, silly me! It is probably for the best since it has turned into such a frightful day outside,” Francesca enacted a shiver.
“Yes, I am delighted that my brother and sister have arrived safely.”
“Indeed. I do look forward to meeting Mrs. Bingley. I have heard she is a remarkable beauty, but I am sure she cannot be otherwise with you as a sister.”
“Thank you. My sister is indeed remarkable in her beauty, inside and out.”
“Oh, and Miss Bingley!” Francesca sat down her cup and punctuated her words with exaggerated hand gestures, “what a pleasure to meet her in the park.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath.
“It was a pleasure to see you there as well,” Francesca smiled and continued waving her hands about in odd, out-of-character gestures, Elizabeth frowned.
“Alexander quite enjoyed meeting you, though he was particularly shy that day. I believe he wanted to keep Fitzwilliam to himself as is the way of little boys. And Fitzwilliam is quite good with him. They ma
ke quite a pair, do they not?”
Elizabeth swallowed, then sipped her tea. “Indeed, they seem quite attached,” Elizabeth smiled.
“They are, they are,” Francesca watched her. “I am reminded, Elizabeth, I must write a quick note seeing that our plans are changed. It is quite silly of me, but if I do not do so now, I may forget it entirely when I return home,” Francesca smiled outwardly, but cringed inwardly at her improper request.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened slightly, and she froze momentarily, “Oh, of course.” Elizabeth rose quickly, “I shall bring you what you need.”
“Thank you, darling, so sorry for the bother.”
“No, no bother at all.”
Back in Matlock’s study, Richard had sat forward at the sudden tension in the room and stared at his father with a frown as they waited to find out who “they” were. Matlock rose from his seat and went to his cabinet, retrieved three glasses, and poured three drinks as he contemplated what to say. He handed Darcy and Richard their drinks. Richard downed his in a gulp, but Darcy held his absently in his hands, his searching gaze never leaving his uncle’s face.
Matlock sat slowly in the chair and took a long sip and sighed. He sat forward and looked Darcy in the eye. “Son,” he addressed Darcy, reverting to the appellation of his affection, “you have an elder brother.”
“What!” Darcy lurched to his feet, sloshing liquid from his glass. “What do you mean? How can I have an elder brother?” Darcy’s face held a fierce scowl, and Richard looked wild-eyed, his gaze bouncing from Darcy to his father like a ball in lawn tennis.
Matlock rose and placed a hand on Darcy’s shoulder, “Sit, Son, sit.” Darcy dropped into the chair, his face still scowling. Richard removed the glass from Darcy’s hand and walked to the cabinet and refilled it. Darcy sat rigidly, staring at his uncle; he waved away the glass Richard handed him. “I will hear this,” he said. Richard had no other choice but to down the drink in Darcy’s stead.
“Your father was my best friend and one of the best men I have ever known,” Matlock held Darcy’s gaze. “What I have to say does not reflect upon the good man that he was,” Matlock said, then sighed. “Your father met a woman named Ellen Hayden Mimms at a ball.” Richard and Darcy exchanged quick looks. “Yes,” Matlock nodded, “I see you recognize the surname. Mrs. Waters’ companion, when she invaded Pemberley, was also a Hayden, Lilly Hayden was Ellen’s older sister by fifteen-years.”
Darcy sagged in relief. When he had heard the name “Hayden,” he briefly feared that he had unwittingly housed his father’s former mistress in his mother’s home.
“Ellen Hayden Mimms was a widow,” Matlock continued. “She was a few years older than your father but stunning and lively. All the ladies noticed your very handsome father, who was also heir to the Pemberley fortune, but none was as bold as Ellen Hayden Mimms. I believe Ellen decided that she would be the next mistress of Pemberley the moment she laid eyes on George. It was a sight to see,” Matlock shook his head. “Unlike the maidens, Ellen was no longer demure. She knew what she wanted and was not shy about it. Your father was flattered, and they began to keep company. Your grandfather was alive and robust, so Pemberley was in good hands, leaving your father with a very generous allowance and much freedom. Ellen’s attentions were quite overwhelming, and with a portion of his allowance, he made Ellen his mistress.
“You must understand, Nephew, that this was the way of privileged men. We thought little of the consequences of such actions. This arrangement continued for a few years. Your grandfather allowed your father his freedom, but after a while, he began to speak to him of his duty to marry and beget the next generation of Darcys. Having been an only child and having only fathered one child, your grandfather was quite determined to see his lineage secured, and so he began to look for an appropriate wife for your father.
“When Ellen was informed that a wife was being sought, she begged your father to choose her. She was the daughter of a gentleman and had been the wife of one as well. Ellen’s mother was her father’s second wife, and Ellen’s mother brought to the marriage a sizable fortune. When Ellen’s mother died when Ellen was a young girl, Lilly, Ellen’s half-sister who was by then a spinster in the making, became a mother to Ellen.
“Ellen was stunning, and with the fortune her mother brought to the marriage, she had a respectable dowry, unlike her half-sister, Lilly. So, Ellen married after her first season; unfortunately, her husband gambled away most of her modest dowry before he died, and he left Ellen a nearly impoverished widow, and she was greedy for the Pemberley wealth. When your father was charged to find a wife, Ellen felt that since she was gently born and had only had George as a lover, that she was a suitable match.
“However, your grandfather approached my father about my sister Anne,” Matlock smiled. “As you know, your mother was kind, beautiful, and intelligent, and an arrangement was made.” Matlock shifted in his chair. “I was away at our country estate when the letter arrived that my sister was likely to become engaged to my friend. Knowing of his entanglement with Ellen, I immediately paid George a visit. To his honor, your father had attempted to end the liaison before his engagement; however, Ellen was determined to become Mrs. Darcy and pursued your father relentlessly. He would return to his apartment in town, and he would find her in his bed. Finally, George threatened to have her turned out of the townhouse he leased for her if she did not cease. She ceased for a while. During that time, George courted my sister, and the courtship lasted only a month before they were engaged. George fell in love with Anne nearly from the moment he met her,” Matlock sighed. “Unfortunately, a week after the engagement, Ellen informed your father that she was with child. Five months after George wed my sister, Hayden Christopher Mimms was born, a replica of your father, except for a head of wavy blond hair.” Darcy gripped the armchair tightly.
Elizabeth returned with the requested writing supplies and sat Francesca at a small side table. “Thank you, Elizabeth, for indulging me,” Francesca said as she quickly scribbled off her note, sanded it, and removed the too large signet ring, sealed it, and replaced the ring back on her finger.
Francesca rose and rejoined Elizabeth. “There now, with that little task completed, I shall be able to enjoy our tea,” Francesca smiled and laid the sealed missive on the table between them, “Do tell me more of your family.”
Elizabeth laid her tea upon the shared table and opened her mouth to speak when her eyes caught the sealed missive, and her breath refused to leave her lungs. The note Francesca had lain on the table, bore the same seal as the missive from Darcy that Elizabeth had tucked into her sleeve. Looking quickly at Francesca’s hand, she saw that Francesca indeed wore the Darcy signet ring. Elizabeth now understood Francesca’s exaggerated hand movements, and the room began to spin. She closed her eyes, and the note from Darcy, that was tucked into her sleeved, seemed to burn her skin like acid. Elizabeth quickly opened her eyes and found Francesca smiling placidly. Elizabeth controlled her breathing, sipped her tea, and cleared her throat, “My family is so varied. I could speak of them endlessly. Perhaps it would be best on another day.”
“Of course, I really should be going anyway,” Francesca rose. “It is always a pleasure, Elizabeth. I hope we can schedule our outing soon. Will you be staying much longer in London?”
“My plans are not yet fixed, Mrs. Waters; however, I imagine a few more weeks as my sister has just returned.”
“Very well, then,” Francesca put on her outerwear. “Such atrocious weather, I do hope Fitzwilliam is not held up at some nasty, little inn,” Francesca smiled and shivered at the thought – happy to convey her supposed intimacy with Darcy.
“Surely he will have reached his uncle’s estate by now,” Elizabeth answered absently.
Francesca’s head snapped up, “His uncle’s estate, did you say?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Are you certain?” Francesca asked, her voice trembling slightly.
&nbs
p; “Yes, I am.”
“Why would he go there? I had heard that Matlock was on the continent.”
Elizabeth frowned, she usually would not think to discuss such a thing with Francesca, but after seeing Darcy’s signet ring on Francesca’s finger, she was not quite herself. “He must have returned as Mr. Darcy has gone to visit him on urgent business,” she said, unconsciously repeating what Darcy had written in his note.
Francesca’s world went black, and she closed her eyes, shivering in earnest now, her breath catching as she gripped the wall for support.
“Are you quite alright, Mrs. Waters?”
“Yes, yes,” Francesca answered as she breathed deeply. “Just a slight bit of dizziness. I shall be fine with a good rest.”
“I shall have Andrew escort you to your carriage.”
“Thank you,” Francesca said as she leaned heavily upon Andrew’s arm and walked wobbly legged to the carriage.
As soon as the door closed, Elizabeth turned, her face ashen, her hands trembling, and bolted up the stairs, desperate for the safety of her rooms before the tears flowed like the ocean tide. Elizabeth pushed into her room just before the treacherous tears betrayed her and escaped their feeble barrier. She closed the door and slid down it onto the floor, trembling hands pressed to her lips to muffle the scream that carried on it wings the disappointment, the despair, and the questions. Why? How? When had this happened?
Darcy had leaned forward with his head lowered as his uncle continued his tale.
“Your father was miserable at the thought of creating a life with another, and he was even more wretch that his firstborn son would not receive the benefits of his birth.” Darcy raised his head, and he and Richard exchanged another a quick glance. “However, your father was honorable, so he provided for Ellen and his son, even visiting the boy frequently. He was attached to the boy but refused to return to the relationship with Ellen, and Ellen was incensed. She began to send your father love notes bathed in her scent and locks of her hair. She even had the gall to show up at the townhouse with Hayden in tow.”
Men of Consequence Page 29
