A Summer Shame (8 page)

Scrunching her handkerchief, Mary twisted the cloth in mimicry of the knots in her own person. She had no wish to disappoint her kind sponsor in society, but after much prayer and reflection, found there was no other solution to her fall.

"I am afraid I cannot in good conscience travel to Matlock for the hunting season." The young woman frowned and gazed down at the most famous Oriental rug in London, finding little humor in its infamy.

"I see." Lady Matlock pursed her lips. Mary was not like Jane, deep in this girl was a soul accustomed to being quiet, to being overlooked. If Margaret Fitzwilliam pushed hard, she knew the stronger Bennet sister would have no qualms shutting her out entirely. Still, the Countess of Matlock had a nose for romantic anguish and Mary's behavior was suspect. "May I ask why you have changed your mind?"

Plainly, Mary met the older woman's eyes with an overwhelmed expression that was strikingly similar to her sister Elizabeth when she was piqued. Mary shook her head gently. "Please, my lady, it is a shame I must bear alone. I fear I cannot trust myself to fulfill the standards so required by such a house party."

Mary swallowed, shifting her weight from foot to foot, realizing she appeared horribly wanton and the last thing she wanted was for Lady Matlock to guess her awful sin towards her own son. "I was never as socially intuitive as my elder sisters, and while I did try to put on a brave front for the family, I feel my talents might best serve my mother as she comes to London in a few weeks with Miss Darcy and my sister, Catherine."

Lady Matlock studied the young woman up and down and sighed. The poor girl trembled and the last thing her hostess wanted was for Mary to leave feeling unwanted. "Come, come, I am sure you have your reasons. I will have Mr. Davies arrange for your trunks to be taken to Gracechurch Street. That is where you wish to go, is it not?"

Mary nodded gratefully, relieved she had not revealed her behavior in the carriage. Making a curtsy, she left the room to finish packing her personal effects in the lavish guest suite she had enjoyed for the summer. Lady Matlock groaned and pulled the bell chord to summon Davies.

When the man appeared, she handed him a note she had scrawled at the desk with the direction for Miss Mary and her trunks. "And tell my son, Richard James Fitzwilliam, his mother awaits his pleasure in the study. Just like that, if you please." With an angry swish of her skirts, Margaret Fitzwilliam mentally listed duties she was not fulfilling by awaiting her wayward son.

A few moments into cooling her anger, Richard entered the study and the countess's blood boiled over once more. "Close the door."

"Am I to receive a reprimand, Mother?"

"You tell me! What did you do to Miss Mary?"

The Colonel's mouth dropped, but he quickly returned it to it's rightful place. Rubbing his chin, he hedged his words. "What did she tell you?"

Hands on her hips, the Countess of Matlock marched across the rug to stand toe-to-toe with her son who towered over her. With a wag of her finger she informed him that whatever his transgression, it was
his
fault that Mary Bennet would not retire with them to the country, and that it was
his
responsibility to correct the error of his ways.

"That girl is as good as family, and we do not treat family as we would a woman in the street! Her emotions are hopelessly tangled over you. I suspect you feel the same."

The Colonel rocked back on his heels, shocked by his mother's assault on his personal life. "I cannot provide for her. She won't want to live on a Colonels' salary."

"Have you even discussed the possibility with her? It seems to me that talk of money is rather unromantic and your generation is meant to be the sentimental type. Why, for season after season, have both my sons turned down every eligible maiden I have thrown their way? But no, you stand here, proving to be as mercenary as the Mamas." Lady Matlock's eyes flashed dangerously at her son, her blood pressure throbbing in her head as she dwelled on the wasted time and effort of her failure to find matches for her two restless sons.

"Mother, Robert and I do wish to consider our feelings in our matches, do not despair." The Colonel bowed to his mother and offered his rakish smile, but she refused to relent. "But being a second son, yes, I am mindful of the style in which I may keep a wife. Miss Mary . . ." he paused, considering the esteem he held for her to be higher than any he had ever felt for a member of the fairer sex, "Miss Mary deserves a world I cannot provide."

Frustrated, Lady Matlock groaned and pushed past Richard. As she swung open the doors to the study, she turned to glare at her son one last time in exasperation.

"We will just see what your father has to say." Leaving the Colonel standing in the middle of the room, he did not remain long as he hurried after his mother. He had no plans to allow his parents to conspire against him, and he had yet to inform them of Wickham's fate.

Her bare toes wiggling in the pond, Elizabeth Darcy laughed at her husband trying to coax a squirrel to their little picnic.

"I'm telling you, when I was younger, I could offer food to any of the creatures and they would come to my hand!" Darcy blew out a frustrated breath, before beginning to crawl and tackle the still laughing Mrs. Darcy. As Elizabeth playfully fought off her husband's affection, she struggled to restore her decorum.

"Perhaps . . . perhaps it was the squirrels' father you knew so well and the son is suspicious!" She lost her countenance into another fit of laughter making her husband growl and silence her lips with a kiss. The summer grounds of Starvet House had provided a reclusive retreat for the couple during the few hours they could find privacy. As Darcy returned to a sitting position, Elizabeth remained laying with her feet in the water on the thick blanket they had situated right at the water's edge. The clouds drifted lazily above in a sky of pure blue.

"I'm not so sure I wish to ever leave Scotland, sir. The idea of living in London after enjoying this idyllic place leaves a poor taste in my mouth. Must we go back?"

Darcy cleared his throat, smiling at his own bonny lass captivated by the spell of the northern country. "Enjoying our honeymoon is what I hoped for, but wait until your first sight of Pemberley." Darcy rolled to his side and rested next to his wife, blowing his warm breath on her neck as he described to her the vistas and charms of his home estate. "Starvet House indeed lures a person's soul to the bliss of nature, but Pemberley captivates you, and will never let you go."

Nestled in her husband's arms, Elizabeth sighed at the metaphors he painted, knowing it was also his way of telling her she belonged to him. Closing her eyes in the gentle sunlight, their rest only disturbed by the sound of a horse approaching. Scrambling to right her dress and position, her husband stood to approach the rider he recognized as one of his own servants.

Elizabeth watched from afar as her husband's body language stiffened and he hastened quickly back to their picnic. Awaiting his return, Elizabeth began to return the dishes and food to the basket as Darcy said not a word and shook out the blanket.

"Is there something so very wrong?"

Darcy pressed his lips and nodded. "She is recovering, but your sister had a fall down the stairs."

"Heavens!" Elizabeth doubled her efforts to pack everything up quickly and did not wait for her husband's assistance to load her portion of the picnic on Zanzibar. She mounted just before him and with her new riding skills, rode like the wind the few miles back towards the manor house. When she glanced behind her, she need not worry, Mr. Darcy's mount Paladin was not very far behind.

Bowling on the greens of Matlock had to be the most exasperating game in the world if you asked Jane Bennet. The only sister to retreat to the countryside with her adoptive family, Jane had no designs to comfort their mother as Mary did, especially since now it was clear to her that Mrs. Bennet was directly responsible for the tedious social position the entire Bennet family found themselves in. As Jane wound her arm with gusto, she rolled the ball towards the pins only to narrowly miss for a third time.

"Poor luck, Miss Bennet. Poor luck." The Viscount Torrington offered to instruct her on her aim, and Jane gritted her teeth as the handy man stood too close to instruct her on swinging her arm, back and forth, much like she already was doing, while keeping his other hand more on her posterior than waist for guidance.

"Thank you, my lord. I shall endeavor to roll my bowl with greater care on my next turn." She nearly insulted the man with the force she tore herself away and began to walk back towards the refreshment table. Covering her eyes with her hand since the new bonnet fashion had nary a brim to it, she searched for Lady Matlock on the far side of the yard playing a round of croquet with some of the other house party members. Jane wished her sponsor was paying closer attention as she did not feel nearly as secure as she would if one of her sisters had joined her.

"You're up, Caldwell." Torrington smugly taunted the other man as the servants at the end of the lane scurried to reset the pins. He sat with overt pomp and circumstance next to Jane at the table. "Miss Bennet, may I say how lovely you are today? The pale green of your gown is simply ravishing for an afternoon's delight."

The double meaning to the Viscount's words put Jane's nerves on edge. "Thank you, my lord."

"Please, call me Henry." The Viscount reached for her gloved hand and as he bent to bestow a kiss on it, nudged the edge expertly with his thumb to brush a small amount of her bare skin with his lips. Jane yanked her hand back as if she had been burned, cradling it with her other. Henry laughed. "A new stirring, eh? Has no man ever kissed the fair maiden of Bennet?"

"The last man to take liberties with me against my wishes felt the swiftness of my right fist connecting with his nose." Jane spat out, waving her hand above her head to Viscount Ashbourne, the Colonel's older brother. Robert Fitzwilliam begged apologies to the ladies he was speaking with and hurried over to the umbrella Jane and Henry were sitting beneath.

"Torrington." Robert tersely acknowledged Jane's companion with a brief nod.

"Ashbourne, don't be a bother. We are perfectly content to converse without you, old man."

Robert ignored Viscount Torrington's bored statement and offered a hand to Jane, which she readily accepted. He made polite conversation about introducing his mother's guest to the ladies he was speaking to earlier. As soon as the two of them reached the halfway point on the lawn, and out of earshot of Viscount Torrington, Jane begged Robert to not leave her alone with him.

"Did he harass you?"

"No, not in any way to embarrass only him and not me. He is loose with his hands and suggestive in his speech. Promise me you will keep an eye on him, I do not trust his intentions."

Robert Fitzwilliam ground his teeth, angry at being so powerless to thrash Henry Longwell for his improper attentions. These cat-and-mouse parties were his least favorite pastime that came with his rank. He was only present at the behest of his mother as he preferred to be back in London, with his friends, discussing the latest politics over a bottle of port. No sooner had he given his promise to watch over Torrington than he and Jane were approached by Mr. Holmes, carrying a silver tray.

"Forgive me sir, but these two expresses just arrived for Miss Bennet." Jane accepted the two notes, dreading the contents. The only reason to send an express was poor news, and she was grateful when Robert directed her to a stone bench on the far side of the lawn, away from the activities of the others.

Opening the letter that was the worse for wear, Jane smiled and laughed that her dear brother-in-law would send an express merely to request her presence in Scotland. Jubilation over the end of her service to Lady Matlock's matchmaking schemes made Jane lose her careful serenity in a fit of giggles. She was free! Robert Fitzwilliam turned around from his impromptu guard position.

"Who sends funny news via express? You had me worried!"

"Me too! But it is poor news, Mr. Darcy asks me to join them in Scotland as the situation there has gone completely out of hand." Jane frowned as she perused the contents of the other express, dated long after the first and only a week ago. Lydia had been injured, though not gravely, and was fighting the prescribed bedrest.

"Oh, I must hurry." Clutching her letters, she nearly forgot herself out of concern and sprinted across the yard, but instead sighed as Robert offered his arm. Leisurely strolling to the croquet game, Jane smiled and nodded at other members of the house party while secretly cheering in her head that she would soon be away from the fake and phoniness that had been London and now camped in the country. As they approached the older Fitzwilliam couple, Jane began to perspire. How was she to discuss this situation without raising alarm?

"Mother, oh Mother! Jane has wonderful news! The Buchanans have graciously invited her for a visit and we have kept her to ourselves for such a long spell." Robert Fitzwilliam gazed indifferently as the lie spilled from his lips, making Jane take a double glance at mother and son.

"Oh, how lovely! I'm sure Mrs. Buchanan will be overjoyed to see you, dear. Mind you to pack warmly, and we shall see you at Pemberley in two months' time?" Lady Matlock leaned forward to peck Jane's cheeks farewell and whispered in Jane's ear to send her regards to Elizabeth. With another phony smile in place, she shooed the two of them away and began fielding questions about the mysterious Buchanans to her companions, explaining it was a family from Jane's home county. This explanation mollified the inquisitive interests and the croquet game resumed as Robert Fitzwilliam briskly escorted Jane away.