A Summer Shame (10 page)

After the emotional release of laughing and crying over the mess ended, Madeline Gardiner pulled out paper and pen from the small stationary set she kept in her room just for such occasions. Still smirking as she captured the details, she felt much better after addressing the missive to Starvet House, to one Mrs. Darcy.

The earth spun as Elizabeth Darcy's club missed the ball a third time in as many tries. Her extra effort this attempt added too much inertia and her feet twirled her body around on her toes, nearly knocking her down.

"Confound it and this stupid, insipid game!" She slammed her club to the ground as Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hamilton laughed behind her. Quickly, her anger spread to her male companions. "And you
gentlemen
would laugh at a lady? As you stand there in skirts?" Her brow arched and both men suddenly found need to cough. Elizabeth had been enlightened that the apparel was called a kilt and some type of honor for Scottish men to wear, but as she had never seen the trend before, it amused her to now end.

Attempting to restore her calm, once more Elizabeth lined up the driver with the impossibly small golf ball taunting her on the tee. With a deep breath, she lifted the club and without losing sight of the ball, managed to connect the club head and the objective to see it satisfactorily sail into the air. Jumping up and down, she gleefully glanced back at her husband who smiled at her with pride.

As Elizabeth's ball did not go nearly as far as the men's, she was to hit again right away. Walking with her husband on her arm she asked him to clarify this rule. "So you mean to say I shall have more turns in this game than you simply because I do not hit the ball as hard?"

"Yes, madame."

"Hmmm, well I rather like this game, then. All is forgiven." Elizabeth smirked as she skipped free of her husband's arm and selected a new club from the caddy. Darcy stood back with Graham Hamilton, their nearest neighbor, awaiting his wife's turn.

"Does she know to win the game you wish to have the fewest strokes?" Mr. Hamilton asked.

Another of Elizabeth's balls sailed into the air and she giggled once more, waving at the gentlemen.

"I refuse to deny my wife even the slightest happiness," Darcy replied, clapping for his wife's triumph. He tipped his cap towards Graham and strolled to join Elizabeth, happy he chose to wear the traditional Scottish uniform for golf. His trousers were much less forgiving of the joy he felt all his own at witnessing his Elizabeth discover new delights of their world. As he neared her, his heart surged with content over his new role as her personal protector.

The small golfing party retired to Starvet House for refreshments after only nine holes. As Elizabeth declared a morning round might suit her more frequently, Mrs. Buchanan walked into the warm parlor. Elizabeth set down her tea cup, preparing to receive her housekeeper but instead the older woman directed her speech to Mr. Darcy.

"Sir, a carriage was spied at the post road gate." Refusing to even make eye contact with Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Buchanan backed out of the room to see to further preparations below stairs.

"William? Are we to have visitors?" Elizabeth asked, bewildered. To have Mr. Hamilton was risk enough, but another visitor arriving in a carriage? There was no way to hide Lydia for the length of a stay.

Mr. Hamilton rose from the table. "I fear I have overstayed my welcome. A smashing good game, Mrs. Darcy. I look forward to our next time out on the links."

"And I'll be over tomorrow to talk about crop rotations, I believe we may find new uses for that southern pasture to protect you from the fluctuations in the price of wool." Darcy shook Hamilton's hand, and both of the Darcys began the slow walk to see their guest off.

As Graham Hamilton, the second son of the Duke of Hamilton, walked towards the butler holding the door open for him with a stiff and subtle jig to reduce the tingling in his left foot, Darcy absconded with his wife to a pretty little alcove just off the main entryway.

"William!" she whispered, as her husband pulled her into an embrace and kissed her most passionately in their tiny moment of seclusion. "What will the servants think!"

"That I am a man in love with my wife, and blessed to be loved in return." He leaned in to touch his nose to hers, closing his eyes. The seconds passed until he heard his wife sigh and release the tension in her shoulders. With a slight sway, he lingered with his face close to hers, until she gently pushed him away to meet his eyes.

"I see worry in your expression. I do not like worry. And you cling so tightly when you think you are about to lose me," she stated rather bluntly.

"Transparent as glass, it appears. Yet so many of my acquaintance accuse me of hiding my true emotions."

"I no longer fall for your changes of subject. Tell me, what has you so worried, quickly before our guest arrives."

"There is no cause for worry." He kissed her forehead and released her, tugging on his coat that had bunched up during his amorous endeavors. "But I fear I may lose some of your attentions in the very near future .  .  ." He exited the alcove, leaving her no choice but to follow if she wished her curiosity to be satisfied.

Outside, Graham Hamilton bounded down the worn stone steps hoping his own wagon had come round, but saw that it was preceded by the mystery carriage's arrival to the long drive. Donning his tartan cap in the pattern of his ancestors, he offered his services as a gentleman to open the carriage door. Handing out the most beautifully delicate blonde creature he had ever seen, he was at a loss for words as the strange woman appeared mesmerized by the grandeur of Starvet House. Finally, he found his tongue.

"Ah, lass, you must be Mrs. Darcy's sister. Welcome to Scotland!"

Jane forced herself away from her inspection of the house to thank the man for his assistance, only to find herself arrested at the sight of such familiar features. He was tall, rugged, and dashing with a strong chin and dark features. But his clothing, once she looked him up and down, was utterly ridiculous! Stifling a giggle, which the man did not appear to appreciate, she curtsied briefly before their meeting was interrupted by the opening of the grand, front door.

"JANE!"

Elizabeth shouted as she flew down the stairs to usurp Mr. Hamilton's place as Jane broke away from this handing down. The two sisters immediately embraced, spinning and talking so fast, neither gentleman could decipher their conversation.

With another wave to Darcy, Graham Hamilton chuckled that by all indications, he would be seeing the enigmatic Darcy far more often than on the morrow, if only to escape the hen house now nesting at Starvet. Hoisting himself up into the modest wagon, he carefully drove his horses around the carriage and slapped the reins once he was clear.

It was only a mere three miles drive to the edge of his lands, but he was anxious to learn the fate of his favorite mare who was to foal anytime now. Granting himself one last look at the two sisters, with one of particular interest, he was dismayed to see that the Darcy family had all retired indoors. Shrugging his shoulders, he reasoned he would learn more about the beauty from the south in due time. In due time, indeed.

For a spell, the three sisters enjoyed their reunion and the eldest, Jane Bennet, wondered if perhaps Mr. Darcy had not exaggerated the trials and tribulations of handling a pregnant Lydia in his letter beckoning her to leave England. As she sat in the morning parlor of the grand stately home, Jane remained quiet, still exhausted from her ordeal at Matlock and the long journey up north.

"Tell me all about the gowns you wore! Were they lined with golden thread? Oh, how I wish I had been in London this summer! I am sure the evenings were simply divine . . ." Lydia gazed above Jane's head with a far off look on her face.

Elizabeth attempted to shake her head as little as possible in warning to Jane, but her sister missed the cue. Instead, Jane brightened at her first opportunity to cheer Lydia and rolled into a delightful retelling of her adventures.

"The first ball after breaking my understanding with Mr. Bingley was the most difficult, but I was saved in society's eyes by a most dashing man, why . . ." Jane's eyes widened as she recalled the connection to the county they were in, " he was the Marquess Haddington! He told me his family was an ancient Scottish line."

Pinching the handle of her cup until her finger's first knuckles were white as sheets, Elizabeth nodded. "Jane, how are the Fitzwilliams?"

Jane ignored Elizabeth's question and gave her attention to Lydia, still absorbed with interconnections of her experiences. Here she had been taught to think of London Society as this great sea, deep with debutantes and suitors, but the shallow degrees by which everyone who was anyone linked together distracted her in a profound way. "The Marquess Haddington has such pleasing features, why, the man I met yesterday who was so kind as to hand me down from the carriage appeared to be a mirror image. Is he related? I did not learn his name."

"You, you met a man? And he was handsome?" Lydia's lower lip quivered.

"Calm yourself, Lyddie, it was Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Darcy's friend and our neighbor. I'm sure you will meet him yourself in a few short weeks."

"The resemblance was most remarkable."

Elizabeth laughed. "I believe Mr. Graham Hamilton is a twin. I have not met the Marquess, but Mr. Hamilton holds a rather large farm he inherited from his mother's side of the family, being the second born. Their mother was the Duke's first wife." Elizabeth prayed Jane would remember her earlier question, but instead, she fell right into another subject sure to aggravate the fragile nerves of Lydia Bennet.

"How terrible they lost their mother! Was it their birth? I have heard bearing twins is tricky." Jane gasped as the weight of her words registered and she jerked her focus to Lydia. Large, fat crocodile tears poured down the young girl's cheeks.

"What if I am having twins? Look at me, I am so ridiculously large!" Sobbing and wretched, Lydia grasped her dress with two fists and pulled at the fabric.

"Lydia, no! You'll tear your lovely dress! Tell me about this fabric, what a wonderful pattern of calico, I do so love these sweet flowers along the trim." Jane smiled at her youngest sister and reached over to still Lydia's hands.

"Don't touch me!" Lydia snatched her hands away from Jane, her eyes wide with fear. "I know you two laugh at me when I am not in the room. Laugh as I waddle like a duck and I am so ugly, not even my dear Wickham will desire me anymore!"

Helpless, Jane looked to Elizabeth as Lydia continued her tirade but Mrs. Darcy, calm as could be, rang the little bell on her tray. In seconds, a maid appeared and curtsied.

"Please tell Seamus and Brandon Miss Lydia will be retiring upstairs for a rest. Thank you."

"No! No! I don't want to rest! I won't be banished to my bedroom! It's too early!" Lydia began to whine and cry harder.

"Should I fetch Dr. Simpson?"

Lydia bit her lip and shook her head. The last time Dr. Simpson visited for one of her fits, she had been sedated for days. Since none of her letters she had sent to her mother or aunt had ever seen a reply, Lydia needed to be awake and alert for her plans to escape. Besides, with any luck, she might convince one or both of the footmen to visit her later.

"I am sorry. Please tell Mr. Darcy I'm good. I will go to my room and rest. There's no need to send for the doctor."

As the footmen arrived, Lydia stretched out her arms for their assistance to rise from her chair, and walked to the stairs, accepting one's arm to help her keep balance as she climbed while the other footman walked behind her to catch her should she fall again. Jane viewed the odd procession with her jaw dropped before turning her stare at her sister, Elizabeth.

"Has she always been this poorly behaved?" Jane whispered.

Elizabeth blew out a breath and cooled her warming cheeks with the palms and backs of her hands. "Worse. Today she was relatively calm. I expected her tantrum to rile up into an all out battle!"

Jane shook her head. "I feel so pained for her! She still has no grasp of her situation, does she?" Jane's heart beat wildly as she reflected how her original plan to care for Lydia on her own would have failed miserably. Mr. Darcy's letter had described Lydia a combination of her mother's terrible nerves and spoiled upbringing finally resonated. And the picture those words now painted was ghastly in the most extreme!

"Pity will serve you ill. For months I pitied and sympathized. My reward was the abuse of her temper! Life became so unbearable, why, I learned how to ride a horse!"

Jane giggled, feeling slightly relieved she could tease and jest again. "Come Lizzie, now I know you are exaggerating."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I am most fond of my Zanzibar and . . ." Elizabeth paused to glance around her, then laughed at herself remembering she was mistress of this house and there was no danger should others hear, "Mr. Darcy taught me to ride astride!"

Jane's face paled as she sat legitimately shocked that her sister, the sister who avoided horses like the plague, had not only learned to ride, but also in the most unladylike manner possible. "How odd, I would have guessed it would offend Mr. Darcy to see a woman ride in a less than appropriate manner."