Little by little and inch by inch, Darcy is slipping. :D
Chapter 31
Darcy tossed and turned throughout the night in a restless sleep with thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet filling his head. He had no more than closed his eyes and she was there, smiling, her eyes dancing with laughter and merriment as she teased him while they strolled in the meadows of Rosings Park. Her delicate hand lay in the crook of his arm with his much larger one covering it. For the first time since his mother’s death, he was smiling and laughing without a care in the world except for Miss Bennet and this moment in time. Darcy had never known such joviality or such happiness as Elizabeth Bennet could bestow with her lively, sportive manners and laughing eyes. She could light up the room with just a smile.
He rolled over and clutched his pillow to his chest. The scene changed, and they were no longer in the meadows of Rosings Park. He glanced around. They were at Pemberley in the rose garden his mother had tended when she was alive. Lady Anne Darcy had loved this garden, and from Elizabeth’s countenance, he could tell that she also took pleasure in it.
The roses were in full bloom. It was the height of summer, and a small breeze blew in from across the lake, cooling them from the hot summer’s heat. Elizabeth reached over and picked one of the large red blossoms, pricking her finger in the process. He reached for a handkerchief and wrapped her bleeding finger in it, soothing her fretful spirit with his touch. Holding her hand close to his chest, he could feel her pulse beating in her wrist.
Slowly, Elizabeth raised her gaze, and their eyes locked. She was trembling, and it was all he could do to keep from drawing her into his arms, holding her as a protective lover would, promising to keep all evil from ever touching her.
Looking into her innocent eyes, he lost himself in their deep forest-green depths. They were two souls connecting with one another through a shared moment in time. She was beckoning him with a look that spoke of desire. Was he the object of that desire? Did she want him as badly as he wanted her?
She stepped closer, her silk shawl sliding from her shoulders. It fell loosely over her arms, barely covering her pale yellow morning dress, so pale that it was almost white—white for purity, he thought.
His gaze dropped to her reddened lips. They were slightly parted in anticipation, inviting him to taste her sweetness. Everything about her called to him and stirred the passionate desire consuming his soul.
His breathing deepened, and his pulse quickened. The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses, rousing his senses even more as his thoughts turned more amorous. He glanced up. Her cheeks were flushed. As he considered the lightness of her figure, the closeness of her body, and the brightness of her fine eyes in the morning sun, his arms slipped around her tiny waist, and he pulled her into an embrace meant for lovers.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed out in a whisper. “You are so beautiful...so very beautiful...my dearest, dearest, Elizabeth. Do not be afraid of me. I would never hurt you, my love. I only want to love you. Now and forever…for the rest of our lives and then beyond, I want to love you.”
Her smiling eyes were the only acknowledgement she gave.
Darcy returned her smile and spoke further, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said, leaning back to brush a stray strand of dark hair from her brow as his hand caressed her face in tenderness, “you have enchanted me almost from the beginning of our acquaintance. Since the time when we first met, I have come to feel for you... a passionate, fervent, admiration and regard. I have tried to forget you, but could not. I tried to find fault, and yet again, I could not. Miss Bennet, I am deeply…madly…and passionately in love with you.”
She nodded gently and briefly closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing against her fair skin as she let herself fall into his embrace, sinking further into his arms. He pulled her against his hard muscled frame, her soft body driving him to distraction. Elizabeth lifted her chin and met his stare once more.
Held captive by the intensity of her gaze, he slowly raised his hand to her chest. He could feel her beating heart against his touch. The feeling was sublime. He was undone. Closing his eyes, he lowered his mouth to hers. But just as their lips touched, Darcy heard the cock crow in the distance. His eyes flew open, and he awoke, bathed in sweat, unable to draw a single breath for several moments as his heart pounded furiously against the walls of his heaving chest. He released a low, guttural groan and clenched the rumpled sheets in his fists, twisting them in tight knots as he looked down at himself in mortification. His bedclothes were soaked. Sighing deeply, he shook his head in anguish. “Oh dear God, what is happening to me?”
The moonlight streamed in through an open window, making the room light enough for him to see. Darcy glanced over at the clock sitting on the mantelpiece. It was four o’clock in the morning.
Opening his eyes further, Darcy looked around the room. He was back in his bedchamber at Rosings, but his dream had felt so real—so dreadfully real that he could have sworn it had not been a dream at all—that he had actually held her in his arms and had almost claimed her as his own. Closing his eyes, he tried in vain to recapture the moment, but it was too late. The dream was gone.
The cock crowed a second time, and once more he groaned as he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Rising up on one elbow, he cast his gaze towards the fire, now reduced to little more than burning embers. Sam was curled up on a blanket in front of the hearth, whimpering and twitching, most likely lost in imaginings of his own. Darcy’s lips curled in a faint smile. Perhaps his hound was on a scent, dreaming of a female of his own.
As the cock crowed thrice, Darcy fell back on his pillow and folded his hands behind his head, his mind deep in thought as his breathing steadied. He was now wide awake.
Gazing up at the ceiling, Elizabeth Bennet was all he could think about while he struggled with his thoughts and feelings. His logical mind told him he could not do this, but his heart told him he must.
“This will not do,” he finally muttered to himself as he raked his fingers through his tousled curls. “I cannot think of her without wanting her. Longing and desire are devouring me. I am suffering a slow and painful death for the want of her. With her alluring eyes, she consumes me in a fire that burns white-hot. I am being driven mad.”
Rising from his bed, Darcy went over to the basin on his wash table and dipped his hands into the cool water. Taking up a large handful, he splashed his face, letting the water trickle down his arms and chest as he took a deep, calming breath.
“What am I to do? I am undone. She is all I think about—day and night she is there—everywhere...in my thoughts…in my head…in my bed. I want her like I have wanted no other. I want her for my wife, my lover, the mother of my children. I want her…but can I choose her?”
He glanced back at the oversized bedstead and moaned. He wished she could really be there, lying beneath the counterpane in nothing but her bare skin. If she were there, he would return to bed and love her until they were both utterly and completely spent from the sheer pleasure of it.
He laughed to himself, but the humour was lacking. “As the Apostle Paul has said, it is better to marry than burn. What shall I do? …Marry her?”
He shook his head.
Dipping his hands once more in the cool water, he brought up another handful and doused his face and hair. He then ran his fingers through his unruly curls and released another hard breath as he shook his head forcefully, sending droplets of water throughout the room.
“Good God, man! Get a hold of yourself. You are acting like a love-struck fool. If you offer for her, it must be done rationally and with careful forethought. Marriage in the best of times can be difficult, and this marriage would be especially difficult. The question is: can you bear the burden you will carry should you wed her? You have your friends and family to take into account. You have money, yes, but will it be enough? You must think of Georgiana. With all your connections and good relations, do you have the command to remain in the first circles of high society so that she might marry well? Will the Darcy name be enough to carry you through, or will scorn and scandal be your undoing? It is ancient, to be sure, dating back to the time of The Conquest, but you are untitled.” He paused on further reflection. “Titled men are given more grace than untitled ones. Perhaps you should have pursued an earldom when your uncle suggested it.”
Gazing at the image reflected in the looking glass above the washstand, he gently nodded. “Have you not sacrificed for others since you came of age, always thinking of their welfare above your own? You have worked and carried the heavy burden of an estate much larger than most while others have led a life of leisure, whiling away in the gaming hells of London and houses of pleasure—but not you. No, you were better. You have cared for a sister as a father would and managed the lives of those solely dependent upon you for their very existence—and you have done it well as befitting a gentleman in your station. Should you throw caution to the wind so easily and do as you please now?”
Darcy paused and thought of the Duke and Millie and of Kate and Lord Brockton. He nodded once more. “His Grace has chosen where his heart desired…and Kate chose as she pleased and married for love. Do you not deserve the same happiness…to have a woman of your own choosing—a woman to love and to cherish, to have and to hold—someone for your very own pleasure to warm your bed instead of a wife chosen to fill a position out of duty whilst her bed is as cold as a winter’s chill?”
Darcy shook the dripping water out of his dark curls once more and reached for the towel draped over the rod of the washstand. Drying his hair, he pushed thoughts of duty and desire from his mind. There was too much to do this day. He would think about love at another time. He was sure of it. Elizabeth Bennet was never very far from his thoughts, for he could no more stop those conscious reflections than he could cease to breathe.
Walking back to his bed, he thought about his obligations for the day. He knew the men would begin work at daylight, and therefore, he would ride out to see how the day would progress. After his return, he would have his morning meal with Fitzwilliam and Lady Catherine, and perhaps his cousin Anne would join them, and then he would call upon the Hunsford party when the hour was appropriate. Yes…he would see Elizabeth. He would court her without making it formal, or without her realizing what he was doing, and see where his true feelings lay. If this were an infatuation born of carnal lust he would know it, but if it was much deeper, as he presumed it to be, then…
His thoughts were interrupted at the creaking sound of the door to his chamber opening and closing. Within a few moments, his valet joined him in his bedroom.
“What will you wear today, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Cunningham asked as he went about setting up the shaving stand. “Will it be the tan breeches or the brown?”
“Neither,” Darcy said with a firm voice. “Today I shall wear my buckskin breeches, and bring me my brown-tasselled riding boots along with my matching tailcoat—and bring my light brown pinstriped waistcoat as well—the brocade one stitched in golden thread. Yes…that ought to do nicely for today.”
“The Hessians, sir? You have not worn those boots in many months, and you do not usually wear buckskins. Are you quite sure, sir?” his man asked, rather perplexed.
“Yes-yes—the brown Hessians and the buckskins. Have you become hard of hearing?”
“Ah, no, sir. If you wish the buckskins and Hessians, then you shall have them. But since you rarely wear them, I merely thought…”
Darcy turned full face and tossed the towel aside with a look of disbelief. “Yes…I do wish it, and furthermore I know exactly what I am doing. No further counsel from you is needed or desired.”
“Very well, sir. I was merely surprised by your selection. That is all.”
“I’m not sure why you should be surprised. They are stylish and the latest fashion in London. All the gentlemen at Brooks’s are wearing them. Why should I not?”
“Yes, everything you say is true, and I have always thought they suited you well—especially with the Hessians. With a slender cut, they are very form fitting, and undeniably the most appealing style in men’s fashion of our day. They show a lithe and strong figure—very becoming on a young man of fashion, though you have claimed not to like the look.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“And I am very glad to hear it,” his man said. “Whenever you have worn them, you have certainly cut a dashing figure. They do indeed become you. You ought to look very stylish today, sir,” he said, and then added under his breath, “The ladies ought to notice.”
Darcy raised a brow and gave his valet a sharp look, but his man only smiled as if he knew a secret—one that was not lost on Darcy, for Darcy knew his man admired Miss Bennet almost as much as his hound esteemed her.
When he had shaved and dressed, Darcy glanced at Sam, who, though his eyes followed Darcy’s every move, was still curled up on a blanket by the hearth. With a shrill whistle, he called out, “Come along, ol’ boy. Let us go and see how our work projects are progressing, and when we return, how would you like to join me in calling upon the ladies of Hunsford Parsonage? Perhaps she will agree to take a turn in the park with us.”
Sam perked up and lazily rose from his bed. Stretching long, he shook his head vigorously and he flapped his long ears from side to side. Wagging his tail, he joined his master as they left for the stables. The morning sun was just rising over the rolling hills of Kent, sending orange and yellow streaks of light radiating across the sky. The day promised to be a good one.
~*~
After Mr. Darcy had left, Mr. Cunningham went about his duties for the day. When he came to the bed, he could not help but notice the condition of it. The sheets were wet and crumpled, indicating a night spent in either restless sleep or, perhaps, in longing and desire. From the looks of it, Mr. Darcy was in need of a wife to share his bed, and Mr. Cunningham knew just the lady to fill the position.
Stripping his master’s bedclothes, he smiled and lifted his head heavenward. “Thank you, Lord. I do believe the master is coming along quite agreeably in his journey towards the altar. And now for the young lady, Lord, we must also remember her in this journey towards matrimony, for it would not do if she should not return his affection. But then, how could she not? Mr. Darcy is always impeccable, and dressed in buckskins and Hessians, he should impress the lady quite nicely and go a long way in turning her head. Yes…indeed. She cannot help but fall in love with him. And why not? For no better man than my master has ever lived.”
Humming a tune, the older gentleman smiled as he remade his master’s bed and tidied up the room, putting away the shaving instruments and making the chamber once again immaculate.
~*~
Riding over the fields, the cool wind blowing in his face, Darcy felt more confident than usual as he thought about his conversation with Fitzwilliam last evening. It was true. Lady Matlock would help him if he asked. She loved him, and he was well aware of it. Perhaps things were not as dire as he had originally thought. But just as soon as that thought passed through his mind, another crowded it out—Elizabeth’s family. What would he do with them? Then there would be Lady Catherine’s ire to contend with.
Considering his options, he furrowed his brow. Should he condescend to offer for her, Darcy would have to manage her family, but he would keep his own home and estate separate from that side of his life. Bearing in mind the job, or lack thereof, Mr. Bennet had done, it would not be a small task—especially concerning her mother and younger sisters. He took a deep breath of the crisp morning air as he rode across the pastures. Well, there was nothing to be said for it. They would never be received at his London home and only rarely at Pemberley. He could not have them in the company of his sister or his relations in Town. Nor could he be associated with her relations in Cheapside, for he was sure her uncle was as crude and vulgar as her mother and Mrs. Phillips. The mere thought of the association was abhorrent.
He kicked his horse and quickened his pace as he thought about what he had observed at Bingley’s ball and how Mr. Bennet had not corrected his daughters or checked his wife’s display of vulgar manners. The image of Mrs. Bennet speaking with a mouth full of food while she boasted of the pending marriage of her eldest daughter to his friend and how that union would throw her remaining daughters into the paths of other rich men made him scowl. No! He would not have his house reduced to a comedy of errors such as he had witnessed at Netherfield. That was one thing on which he would have to be firm should he condescend to offer for Elizabeth. They would see the Bennets at Longbourn and only rarely at Pemberley, but never would they be received in Town! And when the time came that Mrs. Bennet was widowed, he would settle her and any unmarried daughters that remained in one of the cottages he owned at Kympton. It was close enough that he could see to her needs and yet a sufficient distance that she would be no trouble to him at Pemberley.
And then there were Elizabeth’s sisters. He sighed and shook his head at the thought of them. He supposed he would have to find husbands for them. Surely he could find a clergyman for Mary. That would suit her well, and possibly a baron for Kitty. Yes, one from amongst the lower peerage would do quite nicely for Kitty, but then there was Lydia. What could he do for her? He had observed her well in those few short months spent in Hertfordshire. She had pure animal spirits and less sense than a day old kitten, chasing after men dressed in regimentals! Nothing more than an officer would please Miss Lydia. Well, he thought to himself, he was reasonably certain he could find one of those who, with enough money, could be persuaded to take her off his hands—provided he liked her verbose and boisterous manners and had a strong constitution for a witless wife who would keep him one step from debtor’s prison if not checked. He chuckled and shook his head. Perhaps he would give them a case of whiskey for a wedding present.
That left Jane. On that thought, his conscience was pricked. What could he do for Jane? She was sweet and demure. Jane deserved more careful thought and consideration. There was always Bingley, of course. However, he did not relish the thought of explaining to his friend why one Bennet lady had been unsuitable for him and yet another was suitable for himself. Furthermore, how would he explain his sudden change of mind? And what of Miss Bennet’s feeling for his friend? But, before he could think it through, Darcy’s thoughts were diverted as his path curved, and he could see the first farm in the distance.
Urging his stallion forward, he soon approached the men working on the Cochran cottage. Stopping in the yard, he dismounted and handed the reins off to a boy standing nearby.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Snelling said as he laid his bow saw aside and approached from the work area where logs were being hewn. “I hope you will be pleased with the progress we have made. Once the lean-to is completed, this cottage will be done. Then we shall go on to the last one where men are currently raising a barn. With our help, it should be done by nightfall. The men have worked very hard, and a great deal has been done.”
“Yes, I can see that it has.” Darcy smiled, approaching the overseer. “You are to be commended, Mr. Snelling. Your organizational skills are faultless. How are the mills coming along? Is the millstone set? And what about the sawmills? Did the new blades arrive as expected?”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Snelling replied with a small laugh. “All are properly installed or soon will be. The stone was set in place Saturday evening and the old one removed. A miller in a nearby parish took it. The blades for the sawmills arrived later that same day and are to be installed by this afternoon. The rest of the modifications should be completed by the end of the week. I shall check the progress to see that everything is satisfactory once we are finished with the barn at the Isom’s farm. Would you like to accompany me for my inspection?”
“No, I will allot that task to you. I have other business to attend to today. I would like to see some of the other farms, and then I have business back at Rosings. Give me a report this evening.” Darcy paused and then spoke again. “And Mr. Chaney? It has been a sennight since I last saw him. How are he and his family—especially the children? Are they all well?”
“All very well, sir.” The overseer laughed again. “Jim will be out in the fields in another sennight. His strength is returning with good progress. I believe he is a little stronger each day I see him. I will, of course, see to him this evening before coming to Rosings. And the children, I am delighted to relate, are all happy and content, each enjoying their new set of clothes and toys—little Sarah especially. She has asked me to give you her salutations when next I should see you. It was a kind thing you did for them. Not many gentlemen would think of such things as dolls and tin soldiers for little children, who I might add, are not likely to have such gifts from any other source.”
Darcy cleared his throat, not accustomed to praise of his benevolence. Anytime he did a kind deed, he generally kept it to himself. “It was nothing,” he said at last, glancing to the side. “I think any gentleman possessing common decency would have done the same.”
“Just the same, Mr. Darcy, your kindness is duly noted. There will be a heavenly reward laid aside for you in that day.” Mr. Snelling paused in seriousness and then continued. “You, sir, are not any gentleman. You are a rare one.”
Uncomfortable with the present subject, Darcy changed it, and they moved on to the topic of livestock breeding and milk production, discussing the particulars of each until that business was exhausted. Darcy bid his adieu and mounted his horse for the next stop. After he had completed his tour to his satisfaction, he turned his charger toward Rosings with Sam following close behind.
~*~
Once the morning meal was finished, Darcy excused himself and went to fetch his hat and cane. Fitzwilliam had decided to remain at Rosings this morning, having agreed to entertain their cousin Anne in a game of cards. Poor Anne. She never seemed to get enough attention, and Darcy was genuinely glad Fitzwilliam had considered her feelings. He himself, on more than one occasion, had offered to take her for a turn in the park, but Lady Catherine had objected, claiming Anne’s health was too delicate to endure it. That had been years ago, leaving Darcy to wonder, if she was too weak for a stroll in the gardens, how on earth would she survive the marriage bed, let alone childbirth? No, he could never marry Anne.
As he stepped into the entryway, Colonel Fitzwilliam came from the drawing room and approached him.
“I see you are about to set out. Are you, by chance, going to pay your regards to the Hunsford ladies?” he asked.
“I thought I might.”
“Then give my regards to them as well, and when you return, let us ride to Croxley Abbey. I saw the Duke in the village whilst you were out. He asked about you and invited us to come by. I told him we would.”
Darcy smiled. “Then we shall go. I have missed His Grace and look forward to seeing him again. But for now, I have other business to attend to,” Darcy said, slipping his gloves over his hands.
The Colonel gave his cousin a broad smile. “Remember what I told you last evening. She is a diamond of the first water.”
“Duly noted,” Darcy replied with a curt nod.
Briskly moving down the stairs of the portico, Darcy whistled for Sam, and within moments, his hound was by his side.
~*~
“Elizabeth,” Charlotte said, coming into the parlour still fastening her bonnet. “Maria and I are walking into the village. Would you like to join us? The air would do you good, and I could use your company. I am to get some bitter herbs from the apothecary. Mr Collins complains of dyspepsia, and—”
“And Lady Catherine has given the remedy.” Elizabeth laughed.
“Why, yes, of course,” Charlotte replied in kind. “I am to do exactly as Lady Catherine says, but really, Lizzy, I do not mind. I am also to place an order at the butcher’s.”
“No more than three pounds! ‘And make sure it is with no one but Nicholson, Mrs. Collins. I shall be extremely angry if I hear you have gone elsewhere.’” Elizabeth puffed up, giving her best interpretation of the Mistress of Rosings.
Both ladies erupted in laughter.
“What is so funny?” Maria asked, coming into the room. “If it is such a fine joke, I should dearly love to hear it.”
Charlotte glanced at her sister. “It is no joke, Maria. I was only inviting Eliza to join us.”
“Oh, Lizzy, do come! For they have such a fine milliner’s shop next to the apothecary. I am sure you could find a new bonnet, and I can help you trim it.”
“No, Maria, I had best stay here. I have more bonnets and hats than I could possibly wear. Besides, I received a letter from Jane this morning, and I would dearly love to answer it.”
“Oh? And how is dear Jane doing these days?” Charlotte asked.
“Umm…I am afraid her spirits are still a little down. She has seen nothing of Mr. Bingley, and though she tries to keep her spirits up, I know the truth of it. I still cannot conceive why he should have used her so abominably, for I was certain he was in love with her.”
Charlotte released a soft sigh and said, “Lizzy, I am sure he was. He displayed all the symptoms of a man violently in love, but in matters of the heart, I must say we are all fools in love. However, for you, Lizzy, I am quite certain it will be different.” Charlotte paused and tilted her head. “Lizzy, you are so lucky to have bewitched two very fine gentlemen. Both are full on their way to being in love with you.”
“Charlotte! I’ve done no such thing! I am sure you are quite mistaken. Colonel Fitzwilliam may very well like me, but he is in no position to offer for me. And Mr. Darcy, I am sure, despises me as much as I do him.”
“No, Lizzy, that is where you are wrong. I have watched the gentleman from Derbyshire. He looks at you a great deal, and those looks, though reserved in nature, are not the looks of a man who despises you. I’d say they are quite the opposite. Have you not noticed when he rides by of a morning and in the evening that he comes out of his way to pass by us, and when he does, his eyes are fixed on you? That look is a look of admiration.”
Elizabeth raised a brow and gently shook her head in the negative.
Charlotte gave a gentle smile and proceeded to correct her friend.
“Lizzy, you are a fool if you let him slip through your fingers when you might secure a comfortable living with him. Think of what you would be throwing away. Next to the Duke of Devonshire, Mr. Darcy is the richest man in Derbyshire, and he is a great deal more principled, too. Whomever he chooses will be a lucky lady indeed.”
“Charlotte…I am sure you are wrong. You know how he was in Hertfordshire, and I have Mr. Wickham’s account of his—”
“Eliza! Think of what you are saying. Mr. Wickham’s character is as unknown as you believe Mr. Darcy’s to be—”
“No! I will not hear it. Mr. Darcy’s character is very well known to me. I have never judged wrongly, and I am not judging wrongly now.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Well, if that is what you think, then I suppose there is nothing more to say. If you are not coming with us, then we must be on our way. Come, Maria,” she said, turning to her sister. “Let us be gone. Time waits for no one, and I have a full day ahead with my garden and my poultry.”
Charlotte and Maria went to leave, but as they reached the door, Charlotte turned back and said, “Lizzy, do keep in mind what I’ve said. It very well may do you good. And also, remember what I often say. Time waits for no one. Seize the day as it comes.”
With that she put her hand to the latch and left for the village.
~*~
As Darcy and Sam approached the parsonage, Darcy turned to his dog and said, “Stay here, ol’ boy, and if we come out and walk, you may accompany us in the grove. But this visit is for me. You’ve had her all to yourself long enough. Today is my turn.”
Lifting the knocker, Darcy gave three sharp raps, and soon the door was opened by a timid maid who promptly let him in and showed him to the parlour where he found Miss Bennet seated at a writing desk.
When he entered the room, he looked around and was quite astonished to find her alone. This was not what he expected, for it was highly improper to be here alone with a young lady whom he was not formally courting.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, rising to her feet. “I was not expecting you.”
He walked about the room and then approached her with a bow. “Miss Bennet, I am sorry to intrude upon your privacy. I understood all the ladies were to be within.”
“Charlotte and Maria have gone into the village,” she replied. “They should return shortly. Won’t you have a seat, sir?”
Elizabeth motioned for him to take a nearby chair as she resumed hers. When her inquiries after Rosings were made, they seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. His emotions and feelings raged so wildly that to save his life, he could not think of one thing more to say. He took a deep breath and blinked. Finally, it was she who found her tongue, much to Darcy’s relief.
“How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?”
“Perfectly so, I thank you.”
Darcy struggled to find something else to say—anything but the subject of Bingley which made him even more uncomfortable than the silence that grew between them. But, when he could think of no subject of his own, she added after a short pause, “I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?”
“I have never heard him say so,” Darcy answered apathetically, “but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in the future. He has many friends, and is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing.”
Darcy saw by her crimson cheeks that it had not been his wisest rhetorical answer. He would have to do better.
“If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep it or quit it on the same principle.”
“I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, with less coolness, “if he were to give it up as soon as any eligible purchaser offers.”
Elizabeth made no answer.
Darcy glanced around and finally found a subject on which he could speak. “This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.”
“I believe she did—and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object,” Elizabeth replied with the wit and grace he had so often seen displayed in Hertfordshire.
More comfortable with the turn of their tête-à-tête, Darcy caught her gaze and held it as he brought their conversation around to something he wished to discuss.
“Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife,” he said at last.
“Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her.”
“It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.”
“An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles!”
“And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day’s journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.”
“I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match,” cried Elizabeth. “I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family.”
Darcy smiled. He would probe a little deeper. Would she be happy to be away from Meryton? Would she be willing to move north?
“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.”
He smiled once more. She was clearly astonished, and it pleased him to see it, but her answer pleased him even more.
“I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow frequent journeys—and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance.”
Feeling more confident, Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, “You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth looked surprised.
Horrified by his loss of control, Darcy drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and glanced over it, feigning interest. Without looking up, he said in a colder voice:
“Are you pleased with Kent?”
“Yes. I cannot say that I have found company elsewhere more agreeable or the groves more enjoyable. There is a certain serenity about the woods that I find pleasing, and the fields are alive with wildflowers. Flowers are something I dearly love—especially lavender and roses. I would assume by midsummer the fields will be filled with pinks and Queen Anne’s lace.”
Darcy furrowed his brow. “What colour?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked in astonishment.
“What colour of roses do you prefer?”
“I like them all,” she said rather mystified, “but I suppose, if I were to have one special colour, it would be red.” She raised her chin. “Yes, I prefer red to the others.”
He gave a small smile as his dream from the night came into vivid focus. …Red…I should have known. There are many beautiful roses at Pemberley, and the red ones are by far the loveliest of them all. One blossom would fill your hand quite nicely, but I shall be the one to pick it. I would not want you to prick your finger!
Before either of them could say another word, the door was thrown open, and Charlotte and her sister, just returning from their walk to the village, entered the room.
Darcy, startled by their sudden appearance, stood to his feet immediately and bowed.
“Mrs. Collins, I am sorry to have intruded as I have done. I had not realized that you and your sister were away, or I would never have come.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins said cheerfully, “there is no need for an apology. You are always welcome in my home at any time, though I will make an effort to be here when next you come. Would you care for some tea? I can have Mrs. Edelson set the kettle to boil, and I am sure she has hot cross buns with fresh butter to serve with them.”
“No, I think not. I have stayed too long as it is. I shall trespass on your time no longer. I will see myself out,” he said with a proper bow, and then turned and quit the room.
“What can be the meaning of this?” said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. “My dear, Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never have called upon us in this familiar way.”
But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely, even to Charlotte’s wishes, to be the case, and after various conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot always be within doors, they all supposed, and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the two cousins must find a temptation from this period of walking thither. And so a walk to the Parsonage was a mild diversion from the boredom of Rosings, Elizabeth reasoned.
Yet Charlotte still wondered. Mr. Darcy’s mode of dress was not lost upon her. Always handsome and pleasing to the eyes, today he was especially so. His clothes fitted him to perfection, outlining a slim masculine form. Mr. Darcy was perhaps the most handsome man Charlotte had ever seen. She glanced back at her friend and wondered if she were blind.
~*~
Darcy left the parsonage in quick steps, not even taking notice of his hound patiently waiting under the laurel bushes.
Sam jumped up and immediately fell into step by his master’s side. Darcy looked down and smiled. “Sorry, ol’ boy, but not today. I almost gave myself away. I must take extra care not to raise her expectations or let my feelings show so easily—not until I am sure of them myself and, more importantly, what I will do about them.” Darcy laughed and tousled Sam’s ears. “She likes roses, Sam—red ones! But then I should have realized. I know her quite well. I can only imagine what she might enjoy, given her passionate nature.” …Yes indeed. If my dreams are any indication, felicity in marriage will be more than a man can imagine—and I can imagine quite a lot.
Darcy grinned. “Come, ol’ boy, let us return to the house. I’ll see to it that Mrs. Hadley gives you a good, meaty bone.”
~*~
Darcy had his stallion saddled, and soon he and Colonel Fitzwilliam were riding through the village and across the fields to the large estate near the village of Abbey Gate. Croxley Abbey neighboured Rosings to the east and Boxley Abbey to the north. It was a good three quarters of an hour’s ride, located in a part of the county that led to the sea.
Turning their chargers into the main avenue leading to the great house, Darcy was quite impressed with his friend’s estate. As they came into the park proper, they dismounted and gave their horses to the footmen who rushed to serve them. Within minutes they were led up the grand staircase to the saloon above stairs where they were received. Darcy glanced around. The estate house was every bit as impressive as Pemberley and gave Chatsworth and Blenheim a run for their money.
“Darcy! Fitzwilliam!” The Duke approached with Millicent and her parents by his side. “How very good of you to come!”
“Indeed we are delighted to see you again, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” the Viceroy said, extending his hand. “Lady Crofton and I had hoped to have this pleasure before our return to London.”
“As a matter of fact,” the Countess added, “I was speaking of you this very morning to my husband.”
“Indeed,” the Duke replied. “We had all wondered about you and Colonel Fitzwilliam. In truth, Millie and I had come in search of you to invite you to Croxley Abbey. But, after seeing the Colonel in Hunsford this morning, I was sorry to find you not available. However, I extended an invitation with hopes you would find your way here today.”
“Truly. I was sorely disappointed,” the Viceroy declared. “Had you been in house, I would have liked to have met your aunt, but, as it is, that pleasure will have to be delayed. I am needed in parliament in the afternoon on the morrow. We leave for London at first light.”
“I am sorry to have missed you, Viceroy, but I will be sure to give your regards to my aunt,” Darcy said. “I am sure she would have been delighted to have had the distinction of your company.”
“Care for a glass of wine?” the Duke asked, walking over to the wine table and uncapping a decanter of claret. Looking up, he continued. “Colonel Fitzwilliam tells me that you were working out on Lady Catherine’s estate. How has that proceeded? With good progress, I hope.”
“Yes, wine would be greatly appreciated,” Darcy answered, glancing at the Colonel who nodded his approval. “And yes, the work is coming along nicely. It should be completed by the end of the week.”
“Very good! Your aunt is fortunate to have you to look after her needs,” the Duke said. “Would you care for some refreshments—some cold meats, cheese, bread, and perhaps some fruit? We were about to have luncheon,” he said, filling six wineglasses and handing them out. “Afterwards, if you wish, we shall ride out, and I will show you Croxley Abbey. I have been busy with repairs of my own. The estate has been sorely neglected due to my father’s poor health and consequent death. It seems his only care was for Beaumont Castle, and the lands of Croxley Abbey have suffered as a consequence. Oh, yes, he kept up appearances with the estate house and grounds, but the tenant farms and outlying buildings require considerable work. The mills are deplorable and the tenant cottages even worse. Rubbish has collected and dammed up the stream above the gristmill. However, with Millie’s help, we have drawn up the plans and set the work in motion.”
Millicent smiled. “Yes, drawing is one thing I do quite well, and I so enjoy being of use.”
“Yes, my dear,” the Viceroy interjected, “you are a delightful young lady who I have no doubt will be more than useful. You have within you a spirit that is meant to be a helpmate. Is that not right, Your Grace?”
The Duke’s eyes twinkled with admiration and love. “Indeed,” he replied softly, turning his gaze to his betrothed. “Millie, you will always be of use to me.” The Duke moved in her direction and took her hand and placed a gentle kiss upon the back of her slender fingers. “Once we are married, you will be my duchess and shall have considerable control over all that involves our estate. You are to establish your own way of running the house. Mother will help, of course, but it is your home. The dowager will retire to the cottage designed for her needs. If you so desire, you may advise me on general estate matters whenever it pleases you. We shall manage it together. I’ll not repeat my father’s folly. I shall listen to my wife.”
“Your Grace, you are so kind, though I wish your mother would consent to remain with us,” she answered, looking up at him with equal love and affection reflected in her soft grey eyes.
“No. Mother desires her independence, love, and why not? She has earned it.”
“Indeed, she has. Madeline is more than ready to claim her independence. I suspect she will spend a great deal of time at the dowager house in London attending the ladies at Almack’s as well as gracing many society functions. In fact, she is there now, preparing for the wedding. I shall join her shortly,” Lady Crofton said with pride as she turned to Darcy and the Colonel. “The wedding of the Duke of Beaumont and his future duchess will be a grand affair to take place in St. Paul’s. The Archbishop himself is to perform the service, and the future Earl of Matlock has agreed to stand up with Justin. It will indeed be grand! All of the first circles of high society will be present—including the Queen mother with her daughters and the Prince Regent.”
Darcy and the Colonel exchanged a look and smiled. Darcy then cast his gaze upon the young couple in quiet reflection. The warmth and glow of the young Duke and his betrothed was not missed by him. He took a deep breath as he watched them from over the rim of his wine glass and contemplated the affection they shared. Observing the couple made Darcy desire a love match more than ever, and once again his thoughts were diverted to Elizabeth.
Soon the servants brought platters of food and another decanter of wine. The friends ate their fill with very agreeable conversation as they laughed and enjoyed one another’s company. And when they were satisfied, except for the Countess, who was not much for equestrian pleasures, they all left to tour the estate.
As they rode out, Millicent dropped back and engaged Darcy, while the Duke and Viceroy entertained the Colonel.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, pulling her horse up beside his, “my sister has asked me to relay to her your feelings upon reading her letter. I hope you have forgiven her and that all will be well between us. Lord Brockton is soon to be elevated in the peerage to Lord Rothmore. It is a title created for him at my father’s request, and, with the help of your cousin and my future husband, it shall soon be bestowed upon him in the autumn. Lord Brockton is a good man, Mr. Darcy. He loves Kate dearly and she him. You will forgive her, will you not?” Millie asked with pleading eyes.
Darcy smiled. “Tell your sister she need not fear censure from me. In fact, she and Lord Brockton shall always be welcome in my homes, whether at Pemberley or in London, and when I retire to my country estate in summer for my sister’s birthday, all of you are invited. The invitations will be sent as soon as I am in London.”
“Very well, she shall like that very much, as will I. Kate and Lord Brockton truly desire your society, as do His Grace and I,” she said.
Kicking her mare to catch up with her betrothed, the future Duchess rode off with a contented smile.
Darcy looked after her and said to himself. “Perhaps there will be another wedding, too. I’ve yet to decide.”
When they had finished their tour, Darcy and the Colonel said their adieus and bid them farewell with promises to meet again in London as soon as all parties were back in Town.
Riding back to Rosings, Darcy could not help but recall how much in love the Duke and his future Duchess were. He sighed.
If only I could have such felicity in the married state. Elizabeth…you are ever present in my thoughts. I wonder where you are this day and what lies behind those fine eyes whenever I am in your presence. What thoughts do you keep to yourself? It is clear to see that you possess a keen mind and are uncommonly intelligent. I could see us managing Pemberley together as the Duke and his Duchess will someday manage Beaumont Castle and Croxley Abbey.… Yes, I am sure with the right instruction, you could manage my estates properly as well, and should we wed, I shall teach you all I know. A life’s partner…a helpmate as the Viceroy called it? Yes…the thought is appealing to me.
He sported a broad smile as he and his cousin tore across the meadows and took the main road back to Rosings Park.
~*~*~*~
Darcy tossed and turned throughout the night in a restless sleep with thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet filling his head. He had no more than closed his eyes and she was there, smiling, her eyes dancing with laughter and merriment as she teased him while they strolled in the meadows of Rosings Park. Her delicate hand lay in the crook of his arm with his much larger one covering it. For the first time since his mother’s death, he was smiling and laughing without a care in the world except for Miss Bennet and this moment in time. Darcy had never known such joviality or such happiness as Elizabeth Bennet could bestow with her lively, sportive manners and laughing eyes. She could light up the room with just a smile.
He rolled over and clutched his pillow to his chest. The scene changed, and they were no longer in the meadows of Rosings Park. He glanced around. They were at Pemberley in the rose garden his mother had tended when she was alive. Lady Anne Darcy had loved this garden, and from Elizabeth’s countenance, he could tell that she also took pleasure in it.
The roses were in full bloom. It was the height of summer, and a small breeze blew in from across the lake, cooling them from the hot summer’s heat. Elizabeth reached over and picked one of the large red blossoms, pricking her finger in the process. He reached for a handkerchief and wrapped her bleeding finger in it, soothing her fretful spirit with his touch. Holding her hand close to his chest, he could feel her pulse beating in her wrist.
Slowly, Elizabeth raised her gaze, and their eyes locked. She was trembling, and it was all he could do to keep from drawing her into his arms, holding her as a protective lover would, promising to keep all evil from ever touching her.
Looking into her innocent eyes, he lost himself in their deep forest-green depths. They were two souls connecting with one another through a shared moment in time. She was beckoning him with a look that spoke of desire. Was he the object of that desire? Did she want him as badly as he wanted her?
She stepped closer, her silk shawl sliding from her shoulders. It fell loosely over her arms, barely covering her pale yellow morning dress, so pale that it was almost white—white for purity, he thought.
His gaze dropped to her reddened lips. They were slightly parted in anticipation, inviting him to taste her sweetness. Everything about her called to him and stirred the passionate desire consuming his soul.
His breathing deepened, and his pulse quickened. The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses, rousing his senses even more as his thoughts turned more amorous. He glanced up. Her cheeks were flushed. As he considered the lightness of her figure, the closeness of her body, and the brightness of her fine eyes in the morning sun, his arms slipped around her tiny waist, and he pulled her into an embrace meant for lovers.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed out in a whisper. “You are so beautiful...so very beautiful...my dearest, dearest, Elizabeth. Do not be afraid of me. I would never hurt you, my love. I only want to love you. Now and forever…for the rest of our lives and then beyond, I want to love you.”
Her smiling eyes were the only acknowledgement she gave.
Darcy returned her smile and spoke further, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said, leaning back to brush a stray strand of dark hair from her brow as his hand caressed her face in tenderness, “you have enchanted me almost from the beginning of our acquaintance. Since the time when we first met, I have come to feel for you... a passionate, fervent, admiration and regard. I have tried to forget you, but could not. I tried to find fault, and yet again, I could not. Miss Bennet, I am deeply…madly…and passionately in love with you.”
She nodded gently and briefly closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing against her fair skin as she let herself fall into his embrace, sinking further into his arms. He pulled her against his hard muscled frame, her soft body driving him to distraction. Elizabeth lifted her chin and met his stare once more.
Held captive by the intensity of her gaze, he slowly raised his hand to her chest. He could feel her beating heart against his touch. The feeling was sublime. He was undone. Closing his eyes, he lowered his mouth to hers. But just as their lips touched, Darcy heard the cock crow in the distance. His eyes flew open, and he awoke, bathed in sweat, unable to draw a single breath for several moments as his heart pounded furiously against the walls of his heaving chest. He released a low, guttural groan and clenched the rumpled sheets in his fists, twisting them in tight knots as he looked down at himself in mortification. His bedclothes were soaked. Sighing deeply, he shook his head in anguish. “Oh dear God, what is happening to me?”
The moonlight streamed in through an open window, making the room light enough for him to see. Darcy glanced over at the clock sitting on the mantelpiece. It was four o’clock in the morning.
Opening his eyes further, Darcy looked around the room. He was back in his bedchamber at Rosings, but his dream had felt so real—so dreadfully real that he could have sworn it had not been a dream at all—that he had actually held her in his arms and had almost claimed her as his own. Closing his eyes, he tried in vain to recapture the moment, but it was too late. The dream was gone.
The cock crowed a second time, and once more he groaned as he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Rising up on one elbow, he cast his gaze towards the fire, now reduced to little more than burning embers. Sam was curled up on a blanket in front of the hearth, whimpering and twitching, most likely lost in imaginings of his own. Darcy’s lips curled in a faint smile. Perhaps his hound was on a scent, dreaming of a female of his own.
As the cock crowed thrice, Darcy fell back on his pillow and folded his hands behind his head, his mind deep in thought as his breathing steadied. He was now wide awake.
Gazing up at the ceiling, Elizabeth Bennet was all he could think about while he struggled with his thoughts and feelings. His logical mind told him he could not do this, but his heart told him he must.
“This will not do,” he finally muttered to himself as he raked his fingers through his tousled curls. “I cannot think of her without wanting her. Longing and desire are devouring me. I am suffering a slow and painful death for the want of her. With her alluring eyes, she consumes me in a fire that burns white-hot. I am being driven mad.”
Rising from his bed, Darcy went over to the basin on his wash table and dipped his hands into the cool water. Taking up a large handful, he splashed his face, letting the water trickle down his arms and chest as he took a deep, calming breath.
“What am I to do? I am undone. She is all I think about—day and night she is there—everywhere...in my thoughts…in my head…in my bed. I want her like I have wanted no other. I want her for my wife, my lover, the mother of my children. I want her…but can I choose her?”
He glanced back at the oversized bedstead and moaned. He wished she could really be there, lying beneath the counterpane in nothing but her bare skin. If she were there, he would return to bed and love her until they were both utterly and completely spent from the sheer pleasure of it.
He laughed to himself, but the humour was lacking. “As the Apostle Paul has said, it is better to marry than burn. What shall I do? …Marry her?”
He shook his head.
Dipping his hands once more in the cool water, he brought up another handful and doused his face and hair. He then ran his fingers through his unruly curls and released another hard breath as he shook his head forcefully, sending droplets of water throughout the room.
“Good God, man! Get a hold of yourself. You are acting like a love-struck fool. If you offer for her, it must be done rationally and with careful forethought. Marriage in the best of times can be difficult, and this marriage would be especially difficult. The question is: can you bear the burden you will carry should you wed her? You have your friends and family to take into account. You have money, yes, but will it be enough? You must think of Georgiana. With all your connections and good relations, do you have the command to remain in the first circles of high society so that she might marry well? Will the Darcy name be enough to carry you through, or will scorn and scandal be your undoing? It is ancient, to be sure, dating back to the time of The Conquest, but you are untitled.” He paused on further reflection. “Titled men are given more grace than untitled ones. Perhaps you should have pursued an earldom when your uncle suggested it.”
Gazing at the image reflected in the looking glass above the washstand, he gently nodded. “Have you not sacrificed for others since you came of age, always thinking of their welfare above your own? You have worked and carried the heavy burden of an estate much larger than most while others have led a life of leisure, whiling away in the gaming hells of London and houses of pleasure—but not you. No, you were better. You have cared for a sister as a father would and managed the lives of those solely dependent upon you for their very existence—and you have done it well as befitting a gentleman in your station. Should you throw caution to the wind so easily and do as you please now?”
Darcy paused and thought of the Duke and Millie and of Kate and Lord Brockton. He nodded once more. “His Grace has chosen where his heart desired…and Kate chose as she pleased and married for love. Do you not deserve the same happiness…to have a woman of your own choosing—a woman to love and to cherish, to have and to hold—someone for your very own pleasure to warm your bed instead of a wife chosen to fill a position out of duty whilst her bed is as cold as a winter’s chill?”
Darcy shook the dripping water out of his dark curls once more and reached for the towel draped over the rod of the washstand. Drying his hair, he pushed thoughts of duty and desire from his mind. There was too much to do this day. He would think about love at another time. He was sure of it. Elizabeth Bennet was never very far from his thoughts, for he could no more stop those conscious reflections than he could cease to breathe.
Walking back to his bed, he thought about his obligations for the day. He knew the men would begin work at daylight, and therefore, he would ride out to see how the day would progress. After his return, he would have his morning meal with Fitzwilliam and Lady Catherine, and perhaps his cousin Anne would join them, and then he would call upon the Hunsford party when the hour was appropriate. Yes…he would see Elizabeth. He would court her without making it formal, or without her realizing what he was doing, and see where his true feelings lay. If this were an infatuation born of carnal lust he would know it, but if it was much deeper, as he presumed it to be, then…
His thoughts were interrupted at the creaking sound of the door to his chamber opening and closing. Within a few moments, his valet joined him in his bedroom.
“What will you wear today, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Cunningham asked as he went about setting up the shaving stand. “Will it be the tan breeches or the brown?”
“Neither,” Darcy said with a firm voice. “Today I shall wear my buckskin breeches, and bring me my brown-tasselled riding boots along with my matching tailcoat—and bring my light brown pinstriped waistcoat as well—the brocade one stitched in golden thread. Yes…that ought to do nicely for today.”
“The Hessians, sir? You have not worn those boots in many months, and you do not usually wear buckskins. Are you quite sure, sir?” his man asked, rather perplexed.
“Yes-yes—the brown Hessians and the buckskins. Have you become hard of hearing?”
“Ah, no, sir. If you wish the buckskins and Hessians, then you shall have them. But since you rarely wear them, I merely thought…”
Darcy turned full face and tossed the towel aside with a look of disbelief. “Yes…I do wish it, and furthermore I know exactly what I am doing. No further counsel from you is needed or desired.”
“Very well, sir. I was merely surprised by your selection. That is all.”
“I’m not sure why you should be surprised. They are stylish and the latest fashion in London. All the gentlemen at Brooks’s are wearing them. Why should I not?”
“Yes, everything you say is true, and I have always thought they suited you well—especially with the Hessians. With a slender cut, they are very form fitting, and undeniably the most appealing style in men’s fashion of our day. They show a lithe and strong figure—very becoming on a young man of fashion, though you have claimed not to like the look.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“And I am very glad to hear it,” his man said. “Whenever you have worn them, you have certainly cut a dashing figure. They do indeed become you. You ought to look very stylish today, sir,” he said, and then added under his breath, “The ladies ought to notice.”
Darcy raised a brow and gave his valet a sharp look, but his man only smiled as if he knew a secret—one that was not lost on Darcy, for Darcy knew his man admired Miss Bennet almost as much as his hound esteemed her.
When he had shaved and dressed, Darcy glanced at Sam, who, though his eyes followed Darcy’s every move, was still curled up on a blanket by the hearth. With a shrill whistle, he called out, “Come along, ol’ boy. Let us go and see how our work projects are progressing, and when we return, how would you like to join me in calling upon the ladies of Hunsford Parsonage? Perhaps she will agree to take a turn in the park with us.”
Sam perked up and lazily rose from his bed. Stretching long, he shook his head vigorously and he flapped his long ears from side to side. Wagging his tail, he joined his master as they left for the stables. The morning sun was just rising over the rolling hills of Kent, sending orange and yellow streaks of light radiating across the sky. The day promised to be a good one.
After Mr. Darcy had left, Mr. Cunningham went about his duties for the day. When he came to the bed, he could not help but notice the condition of it. The sheets were wet and crumpled, indicating a night spent in either restless sleep or, perhaps, in longing and desire. From the looks of it, Mr. Darcy was in need of a wife to share his bed, and Mr. Cunningham knew just the lady to fill the position.
Stripping his master’s bedclothes, he smiled and lifted his head heavenward. “Thank you, Lord. I do believe the master is coming along quite agreeably in his journey towards the altar. And now for the young lady, Lord, we must also remember her in this journey towards matrimony, for it would not do if she should not return his affection. But then, how could she not? Mr. Darcy is always impeccable, and dressed in buckskins and Hessians, he should impress the lady quite nicely and go a long way in turning her head. Yes…indeed. She cannot help but fall in love with him. And why not? For no better man than my master has ever lived.”
Humming a tune, the older gentleman smiled as he remade his master’s bed and tidied up the room, putting away the shaving instruments and making the chamber once again immaculate.
Riding over the fields, the cool wind blowing in his face, Darcy felt more confident than usual as he thought about his conversation with Fitzwilliam last evening. It was true. Lady Matlock would help him if he asked. She loved him, and he was well aware of it. Perhaps things were not as dire as he had originally thought. But just as soon as that thought passed through his mind, another crowded it out—Elizabeth’s family. What would he do with them? Then there would be Lady Catherine’s ire to contend with.
Considering his options, he furrowed his brow. Should he condescend to offer for her, Darcy would have to manage her family, but he would keep his own home and estate separate from that side of his life. Bearing in mind the job, or lack thereof, Mr. Bennet had done, it would not be a small task—especially concerning her mother and younger sisters. He took a deep breath of the crisp morning air as he rode across the pastures. Well, there was nothing to be said for it. They would never be received at his London home and only rarely at Pemberley. He could not have them in the company of his sister or his relations in Town. Nor could he be associated with her relations in Cheapside, for he was sure her uncle was as crude and vulgar as her mother and Mrs. Phillips. The mere thought of the association was abhorrent.
He kicked his horse and quickened his pace as he thought about what he had observed at Bingley’s ball and how Mr. Bennet had not corrected his daughters or checked his wife’s display of vulgar manners. The image of Mrs. Bennet speaking with a mouth full of food while she boasted of the pending marriage of her eldest daughter to his friend and how that union would throw her remaining daughters into the paths of other rich men made him scowl. No! He would not have his house reduced to a comedy of errors such as he had witnessed at Netherfield. That was one thing on which he would have to be firm should he condescend to offer for Elizabeth. They would see the Bennets at Longbourn and only rarely at Pemberley, but never would they be received in Town! And when the time came that Mrs. Bennet was widowed, he would settle her and any unmarried daughters that remained in one of the cottages he owned at Kympton. It was close enough that he could see to her needs and yet a sufficient distance that she would be no trouble to him at Pemberley.
And then there were Elizabeth’s sisters. He sighed and shook his head at the thought of them. He supposed he would have to find husbands for them. Surely he could find a clergyman for Mary. That would suit her well, and possibly a baron for Kitty. Yes, one from amongst the lower peerage would do quite nicely for Kitty, but then there was Lydia. What could he do for her? He had observed her well in those few short months spent in Hertfordshire. She had pure animal spirits and less sense than a day old kitten, chasing after men dressed in regimentals! Nothing more than an officer would please Miss Lydia. Well, he thought to himself, he was reasonably certain he could find one of those who, with enough money, could be persuaded to take her off his hands—provided he liked her verbose and boisterous manners and had a strong constitution for a witless wife who would keep him one step from debtor’s prison if not checked. He chuckled and shook his head. Perhaps he would give them a case of whiskey for a wedding present.
That left Jane. On that thought, his conscience was pricked. What could he do for Jane? She was sweet and demure. Jane deserved more careful thought and consideration. There was always Bingley, of course. However, he did not relish the thought of explaining to his friend why one Bennet lady had been unsuitable for him and yet another was suitable for himself. Furthermore, how would he explain his sudden change of mind? And what of Miss Bennet’s feeling for his friend? But, before he could think it through, Darcy’s thoughts were diverted as his path curved, and he could see the first farm in the distance.
Urging his stallion forward, he soon approached the men working on the Cochran cottage. Stopping in the yard, he dismounted and handed the reins off to a boy standing nearby.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Snelling said as he laid his bow saw aside and approached from the work area where logs were being hewn. “I hope you will be pleased with the progress we have made. Once the lean-to is completed, this cottage will be done. Then we shall go on to the last one where men are currently raising a barn. With our help, it should be done by nightfall. The men have worked very hard, and a great deal has been done.”
“Yes, I can see that it has.” Darcy smiled, approaching the overseer. “You are to be commended, Mr. Snelling. Your organizational skills are faultless. How are the mills coming along? Is the millstone set? And what about the sawmills? Did the new blades arrive as expected?”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Snelling replied with a small laugh. “All are properly installed or soon will be. The stone was set in place Saturday evening and the old one removed. A miller in a nearby parish took it. The blades for the sawmills arrived later that same day and are to be installed by this afternoon. The rest of the modifications should be completed by the end of the week. I shall check the progress to see that everything is satisfactory once we are finished with the barn at the Isom’s farm. Would you like to accompany me for my inspection?”
“No, I will allot that task to you. I have other business to attend to today. I would like to see some of the other farms, and then I have business back at Rosings. Give me a report this evening.” Darcy paused and then spoke again. “And Mr. Chaney? It has been a sennight since I last saw him. How are he and his family—especially the children? Are they all well?”
“All very well, sir.” The overseer laughed again. “Jim will be out in the fields in another sennight. His strength is returning with good progress. I believe he is a little stronger each day I see him. I will, of course, see to him this evening before coming to Rosings. And the children, I am delighted to relate, are all happy and content, each enjoying their new set of clothes and toys—little Sarah especially. She has asked me to give you her salutations when next I should see you. It was a kind thing you did for them. Not many gentlemen would think of such things as dolls and tin soldiers for little children, who I might add, are not likely to have such gifts from any other source.”
Darcy cleared his throat, not accustomed to praise of his benevolence. Anytime he did a kind deed, he generally kept it to himself. “It was nothing,” he said at last, glancing to the side. “I think any gentleman possessing common decency would have done the same.”
“Just the same, Mr. Darcy, your kindness is duly noted. There will be a heavenly reward laid aside for you in that day.” Mr. Snelling paused in seriousness and then continued. “You, sir, are not any gentleman. You are a rare one.”
Uncomfortable with the present subject, Darcy changed it, and they moved on to the topic of livestock breeding and milk production, discussing the particulars of each until that business was exhausted. Darcy bid his adieu and mounted his horse for the next stop. After he had completed his tour to his satisfaction, he turned his charger toward Rosings with Sam following close behind.
Once the morning meal was finished, Darcy excused himself and went to fetch his hat and cane. Fitzwilliam had decided to remain at Rosings this morning, having agreed to entertain their cousin Anne in a game of cards. Poor Anne. She never seemed to get enough attention, and Darcy was genuinely glad Fitzwilliam had considered her feelings. He himself, on more than one occasion, had offered to take her for a turn in the park, but Lady Catherine had objected, claiming Anne’s health was too delicate to endure it. That had been years ago, leaving Darcy to wonder, if she was too weak for a stroll in the gardens, how on earth would she survive the marriage bed, let alone childbirth? No, he could never marry Anne.
As he stepped into the entryway, Colonel Fitzwilliam came from the drawing room and approached him.
“I see you are about to set out. Are you, by chance, going to pay your regards to the Hunsford ladies?” he asked.
“I thought I might.”
“Then give my regards to them as well, and when you return, let us ride to Croxley Abbey. I saw the Duke in the village whilst you were out. He asked about you and invited us to come by. I told him we would.”
Darcy smiled. “Then we shall go. I have missed His Grace and look forward to seeing him again. But for now, I have other business to attend to,” Darcy said, slipping his gloves over his hands.
The Colonel gave his cousin a broad smile. “Remember what I told you last evening. She is a diamond of the first water.”
“Duly noted,” Darcy replied with a curt nod.
Briskly moving down the stairs of the portico, Darcy whistled for Sam, and within moments, his hound was by his side.
“Elizabeth,” Charlotte said, coming into the parlour still fastening her bonnet. “Maria and I are walking into the village. Would you like to join us? The air would do you good, and I could use your company. I am to get some bitter herbs from the apothecary. Mr Collins complains of dyspepsia, and—”
“And Lady Catherine has given the remedy.” Elizabeth laughed.
“Why, yes, of course,” Charlotte replied in kind. “I am to do exactly as Lady Catherine says, but really, Lizzy, I do not mind. I am also to place an order at the butcher’s.”
“No more than three pounds! ‘And make sure it is with no one but Nicholson, Mrs. Collins. I shall be extremely angry if I hear you have gone elsewhere.’” Elizabeth puffed up, giving her best interpretation of the Mistress of Rosings.
Both ladies erupted in laughter.
“What is so funny?” Maria asked, coming into the room. “If it is such a fine joke, I should dearly love to hear it.”
Charlotte glanced at her sister. “It is no joke, Maria. I was only inviting Eliza to join us.”
“Oh, Lizzy, do come! For they have such a fine milliner’s shop next to the apothecary. I am sure you could find a new bonnet, and I can help you trim it.”
“No, Maria, I had best stay here. I have more bonnets and hats than I could possibly wear. Besides, I received a letter from Jane this morning, and I would dearly love to answer it.”
“Oh? And how is dear Jane doing these days?” Charlotte asked.
“Umm…I am afraid her spirits are still a little down. She has seen nothing of Mr. Bingley, and though she tries to keep her spirits up, I know the truth of it. I still cannot conceive why he should have used her so abominably, for I was certain he was in love with her.”
Charlotte released a soft sigh and said, “Lizzy, I am sure he was. He displayed all the symptoms of a man violently in love, but in matters of the heart, I must say we are all fools in love. However, for you, Lizzy, I am quite certain it will be different.” Charlotte paused and tilted her head. “Lizzy, you are so lucky to have bewitched two very fine gentlemen. Both are full on their way to being in love with you.”
“Charlotte! I’ve done no such thing! I am sure you are quite mistaken. Colonel Fitzwilliam may very well like me, but he is in no position to offer for me. And Mr. Darcy, I am sure, despises me as much as I do him.”
“No, Lizzy, that is where you are wrong. I have watched the gentleman from Derbyshire. He looks at you a great deal, and those looks, though reserved in nature, are not the looks of a man who despises you. I’d say they are quite the opposite. Have you not noticed when he rides by of a morning and in the evening that he comes out of his way to pass by us, and when he does, his eyes are fixed on you? That look is a look of admiration.”
Elizabeth raised a brow and gently shook her head in the negative.
Charlotte gave a gentle smile and proceeded to correct her friend.
“Lizzy, you are a fool if you let him slip through your fingers when you might secure a comfortable living with him. Think of what you would be throwing away. Next to the Duke of Devonshire, Mr. Darcy is the richest man in Derbyshire, and he is a great deal more principled, too. Whomever he chooses will be a lucky lady indeed.”
“Charlotte…I am sure you are wrong. You know how he was in Hertfordshire, and I have Mr. Wickham’s account of his—”
“Eliza! Think of what you are saying. Mr. Wickham’s character is as unknown as you believe Mr. Darcy’s to be—”
“No! I will not hear it. Mr. Darcy’s character is very well known to me. I have never judged wrongly, and I am not judging wrongly now.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Well, if that is what you think, then I suppose there is nothing more to say. If you are not coming with us, then we must be on our way. Come, Maria,” she said, turning to her sister. “Let us be gone. Time waits for no one, and I have a full day ahead with my garden and my poultry.”
Charlotte and Maria went to leave, but as they reached the door, Charlotte turned back and said, “Lizzy, do keep in mind what I’ve said. It very well may do you good. And also, remember what I often say. Time waits for no one. Seize the day as it comes.”
With that she put her hand to the latch and left for the village.
As Darcy and Sam approached the parsonage, Darcy turned to his dog and said, “Stay here, ol’ boy, and if we come out and walk, you may accompany us in the grove. But this visit is for me. You’ve had her all to yourself long enough. Today is my turn.”
Lifting the knocker, Darcy gave three sharp raps, and soon the door was opened by a timid maid who promptly let him in and showed him to the parlour where he found Miss Bennet seated at a writing desk.
When he entered the room, he looked around and was quite astonished to find her alone. This was not what he expected, for it was highly improper to be here alone with a young lady whom he was not formally courting.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, rising to her feet. “I was not expecting you.”
He walked about the room and then approached her with a bow. “Miss Bennet, I am sorry to intrude upon your privacy. I understood all the ladies were to be within.”
“Charlotte and Maria have gone into the village,” she replied. “They should return shortly. Won’t you have a seat, sir?”
Elizabeth motioned for him to take a nearby chair as she resumed hers. When her inquiries after Rosings were made, they seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. His emotions and feelings raged so wildly that to save his life, he could not think of one thing more to say. He took a deep breath and blinked. Finally, it was she who found her tongue, much to Darcy’s relief.
“How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?”
“Perfectly so, I thank you.”
Darcy struggled to find something else to say—anything but the subject of Bingley which made him even more uncomfortable than the silence that grew between them. But, when he could think of no subject of his own, she added after a short pause, “I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?”
“I have never heard him say so,” Darcy answered apathetically, “but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in the future. He has many friends, and is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing.”
Darcy saw by her crimson cheeks that it had not been his wisest rhetorical answer. He would have to do better.
“If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep it or quit it on the same principle.”
“I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, with less coolness, “if he were to give it up as soon as any eligible purchaser offers.”
Elizabeth made no answer.
Darcy glanced around and finally found a subject on which he could speak. “This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.”
“I believe she did—and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object,” Elizabeth replied with the wit and grace he had so often seen displayed in Hertfordshire.
More comfortable with the turn of their tête-à-tête, Darcy caught her gaze and held it as he brought their conversation around to something he wished to discuss.
“Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife,” he said at last.
“Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her.”
“It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.”
“An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles!”
“And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day’s journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.”
“I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match,” cried Elizabeth. “I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family.”
Darcy smiled. He would probe a little deeper. Would she be happy to be away from Meryton? Would she be willing to move north?
“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.”
He smiled once more. She was clearly astonished, and it pleased him to see it, but her answer pleased him even more.
“I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow frequent journeys—and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance.”
Feeling more confident, Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, “You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth looked surprised.
Horrified by his loss of control, Darcy drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and glanced over it, feigning interest. Without looking up, he said in a colder voice:
“Are you pleased with Kent?”
“Yes. I cannot say that I have found company elsewhere more agreeable or the groves more enjoyable. There is a certain serenity about the woods that I find pleasing, and the fields are alive with wildflowers. Flowers are something I dearly love—especially lavender and roses. I would assume by midsummer the fields will be filled with pinks and Queen Anne’s lace.”
Darcy furrowed his brow. “What colour?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked in astonishment.
“What colour of roses do you prefer?”
“I like them all,” she said rather mystified, “but I suppose, if I were to have one special colour, it would be red.” She raised her chin. “Yes, I prefer red to the others.”
He gave a small smile as his dream from the night came into vivid focus. …Red…I should have known. There are many beautiful roses at Pemberley, and the red ones are by far the loveliest of them all. One blossom would fill your hand quite nicely, but I shall be the one to pick it. I would not want you to prick your finger!
Before either of them could say another word, the door was thrown open, and Charlotte and her sister, just returning from their walk to the village, entered the room.
Darcy, startled by their sudden appearance, stood to his feet immediately and bowed.
“Mrs. Collins, I am sorry to have intruded as I have done. I had not realized that you and your sister were away, or I would never have come.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins said cheerfully, “there is no need for an apology. You are always welcome in my home at any time, though I will make an effort to be here when next you come. Would you care for some tea? I can have Mrs. Edelson set the kettle to boil, and I am sure she has hot cross buns with fresh butter to serve with them.”
“No, I think not. I have stayed too long as it is. I shall trespass on your time no longer. I will see myself out,” he said with a proper bow, and then turned and quit the room.
“What can be the meaning of this?” said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. “My dear, Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never have called upon us in this familiar way.”
But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely, even to Charlotte’s wishes, to be the case, and after various conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot always be within doors, they all supposed, and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the two cousins must find a temptation from this period of walking thither. And so a walk to the Parsonage was a mild diversion from the boredom of Rosings, Elizabeth reasoned.
Yet Charlotte still wondered. Mr. Darcy’s mode of dress was not lost upon her. Always handsome and pleasing to the eyes, today he was especially so. His clothes fitted him to perfection, outlining a slim masculine form. Mr. Darcy was perhaps the most handsome man Charlotte had ever seen. She glanced back at her friend and wondered if she were blind.
Darcy left the parsonage in quick steps, not even taking notice of his hound patiently waiting under the laurel bushes.
Sam jumped up and immediately fell into step by his master’s side. Darcy looked down and smiled. “Sorry, ol’ boy, but not today. I almost gave myself away. I must take extra care not to raise her expectations or let my feelings show so easily—not until I am sure of them myself and, more importantly, what I will do about them.” Darcy laughed and tousled Sam’s ears. “She likes roses, Sam—red ones! But then I should have realized. I know her quite well. I can only imagine what she might enjoy, given her passionate nature.” …Yes indeed. If my dreams are any indication, felicity in marriage will be more than a man can imagine—and I can imagine quite a lot.
Darcy grinned. “Come, ol’ boy, let us return to the house. I’ll see to it that Mrs. Hadley gives you a good, meaty bone.”
Darcy had his stallion saddled, and soon he and Colonel Fitzwilliam were riding through the village and across the fields to the large estate near the village of Abbey Gate. Croxley Abbey neighboured Rosings to the east and Boxley Abbey to the north. It was a good three quarters of an hour’s ride, located in a part of the county that led to the sea.
Turning their chargers into the main avenue leading to the great house, Darcy was quite impressed with his friend’s estate. As they came into the park proper, they dismounted and gave their horses to the footmen who rushed to serve them. Within minutes they were led up the grand staircase to the saloon above stairs where they were received. Darcy glanced around. The estate house was every bit as impressive as Pemberley and gave Chatsworth and Blenheim a run for their money.
“Darcy! Fitzwilliam!” The Duke approached with Millicent and her parents by his side. “How very good of you to come!”
“Indeed we are delighted to see you again, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” the Viceroy said, extending his hand. “Lady Crofton and I had hoped to have this pleasure before our return to London.”
“As a matter of fact,” the Countess added, “I was speaking of you this very morning to my husband.”
“Indeed,” the Duke replied. “We had all wondered about you and Colonel Fitzwilliam. In truth, Millie and I had come in search of you to invite you to Croxley Abbey. But, after seeing the Colonel in Hunsford this morning, I was sorry to find you not available. However, I extended an invitation with hopes you would find your way here today.”
“Truly. I was sorely disappointed,” the Viceroy declared. “Had you been in house, I would have liked to have met your aunt, but, as it is, that pleasure will have to be delayed. I am needed in parliament in the afternoon on the morrow. We leave for London at first light.”
“I am sorry to have missed you, Viceroy, but I will be sure to give your regards to my aunt,” Darcy said. “I am sure she would have been delighted to have had the distinction of your company.”
“Care for a glass of wine?” the Duke asked, walking over to the wine table and uncapping a decanter of claret. Looking up, he continued. “Colonel Fitzwilliam tells me that you were working out on Lady Catherine’s estate. How has that proceeded? With good progress, I hope.”
“Yes, wine would be greatly appreciated,” Darcy answered, glancing at the Colonel who nodded his approval. “And yes, the work is coming along nicely. It should be completed by the end of the week.”
“Very good! Your aunt is fortunate to have you to look after her needs,” the Duke said. “Would you care for some refreshments—some cold meats, cheese, bread, and perhaps some fruit? We were about to have luncheon,” he said, filling six wineglasses and handing them out. “Afterwards, if you wish, we shall ride out, and I will show you Croxley Abbey. I have been busy with repairs of my own. The estate has been sorely neglected due to my father’s poor health and consequent death. It seems his only care was for Beaumont Castle, and the lands of Croxley Abbey have suffered as a consequence. Oh, yes, he kept up appearances with the estate house and grounds, but the tenant farms and outlying buildings require considerable work. The mills are deplorable and the tenant cottages even worse. Rubbish has collected and dammed up the stream above the gristmill. However, with Millie’s help, we have drawn up the plans and set the work in motion.”
Millicent smiled. “Yes, drawing is one thing I do quite well, and I so enjoy being of use.”
“Yes, my dear,” the Viceroy interjected, “you are a delightful young lady who I have no doubt will be more than useful. You have within you a spirit that is meant to be a helpmate. Is that not right, Your Grace?”
The Duke’s eyes twinkled with admiration and love. “Indeed,” he replied softly, turning his gaze to his betrothed. “Millie, you will always be of use to me.” The Duke moved in her direction and took her hand and placed a gentle kiss upon the back of her slender fingers. “Once we are married, you will be my duchess and shall have considerable control over all that involves our estate. You are to establish your own way of running the house. Mother will help, of course, but it is your home. The dowager will retire to the cottage designed for her needs. If you so desire, you may advise me on general estate matters whenever it pleases you. We shall manage it together. I’ll not repeat my father’s folly. I shall listen to my wife.”
“Your Grace, you are so kind, though I wish your mother would consent to remain with us,” she answered, looking up at him with equal love and affection reflected in her soft grey eyes.
“No. Mother desires her independence, love, and why not? She has earned it.”
“Indeed, she has. Madeline is more than ready to claim her independence. I suspect she will spend a great deal of time at the dowager house in London attending the ladies at Almack’s as well as gracing many society functions. In fact, she is there now, preparing for the wedding. I shall join her shortly,” Lady Crofton said with pride as she turned to Darcy and the Colonel. “The wedding of the Duke of Beaumont and his future duchess will be a grand affair to take place in St. Paul’s. The Archbishop himself is to perform the service, and the future Earl of Matlock has agreed to stand up with Justin. It will indeed be grand! All of the first circles of high society will be present—including the Queen mother with her daughters and the Prince Regent.”
Darcy and the Colonel exchanged a look and smiled. Darcy then cast his gaze upon the young couple in quiet reflection. The warmth and glow of the young Duke and his betrothed was not missed by him. He took a deep breath as he watched them from over the rim of his wine glass and contemplated the affection they shared. Observing the couple made Darcy desire a love match more than ever, and once again his thoughts were diverted to Elizabeth.
Soon the servants brought platters of food and another decanter of wine. The friends ate their fill with very agreeable conversation as they laughed and enjoyed one another’s company. And when they were satisfied, except for the Countess, who was not much for equestrian pleasures, they all left to tour the estate.
As they rode out, Millicent dropped back and engaged Darcy, while the Duke and Viceroy entertained the Colonel.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, pulling her horse up beside his, “my sister has asked me to relay to her your feelings upon reading her letter. I hope you have forgiven her and that all will be well between us. Lord Brockton is soon to be elevated in the peerage to Lord Rothmore. It is a title created for him at my father’s request, and, with the help of your cousin and my future husband, it shall soon be bestowed upon him in the autumn. Lord Brockton is a good man, Mr. Darcy. He loves Kate dearly and she him. You will forgive her, will you not?” Millie asked with pleading eyes.
Darcy smiled. “Tell your sister she need not fear censure from me. In fact, she and Lord Brockton shall always be welcome in my homes, whether at Pemberley or in London, and when I retire to my country estate in summer for my sister’s birthday, all of you are invited. The invitations will be sent as soon as I am in London.”
“Very well, she shall like that very much, as will I. Kate and Lord Brockton truly desire your society, as do His Grace and I,” she said.
Kicking her mare to catch up with her betrothed, the future Duchess rode off with a contented smile.
Darcy looked after her and said to himself. “Perhaps there will be another wedding, too. I’ve yet to decide.”
When they had finished their tour, Darcy and the Colonel said their adieus and bid them farewell with promises to meet again in London as soon as all parties were back in Town.
Riding back to Rosings, Darcy could not help but recall how much in love the Duke and his future Duchess were. He sighed.
If only I could have such felicity in the married state. Elizabeth…you are ever present in my thoughts. I wonder where you are this day and what lies behind those fine eyes whenever I am in your presence. What thoughts do you keep to yourself? It is clear to see that you possess a keen mind and are uncommonly intelligent. I could see us managing Pemberley together as the Duke and his Duchess will someday manage Beaumont Castle and Croxley Abbey.… Yes, I am sure with the right instruction, you could manage my estates properly as well, and should we wed, I shall teach you all I know. A life’s partner…a helpmate as the Viceroy called it? Yes…the thought is appealing to me.
He sported a broad smile as he and his cousin tore across the meadows and took the main road back to Rosings Park.