Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (31 page)
Read Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) Online
Authors: Sharon Lathan
“I suppose it should not shock me
that our aunt barged in on the Bennets and attacked Miss Elizabeth,” Richard
said near the end of that part of the tale. “I
am
shocked though. Not
because it is especially out of character, mind you. It’s the extremity
involved that amazes. The desperation and…absurdity, really. Anne is sickly and
nearing thirty, for heaven’s sake! How could a woman as intelligent as Lady
Catherine cling to the irrational idea that you, of all people, would marry
Anne now when you have refused for the past ten years?”
Darcy shrugged. “Indeed I asked the
same question. Hundreds of times. Obviously I underestimated her resolve, and
erroneously believed she knew me better.”
“Yes,” Richard drawled, staring
into the wine as he gently swirled the glass, “I think you have hit the nail’s
head. Do not take it personally, Darcy. I doubt she knows anything about me
outside of my rank and surname.”
“Aunt Catherine inhabits her
pomposity utterly, and defines people based on predetermined categories. I am
not unique in her pigeonholing me, that I am aware. How well does she truly
know her own daughter, for example? The irony is that in defining and then
dismissing me, she underestimated
my
resolve.”
“Quite so. As I know from
experience with more than a few generals and high-ranking officers,
intelligence is often not linked to wisdom or basic sense. Whatever the case
with our dear aunt, you turned her interference to your advantage. Now you are
bindingly betrothed to Elizabeth Bennet. Nothing more she can do about it.”
The servants interrupted the
conversation momentarily to whisk the soiled plates away and deliver the
vegetables. The colonel promptly scooped a mouthful of sliced carrots. Darcy
stared at the steam rising from the mound of mashed yams on his plate while
creating valleys with his fork tines.
“I can live with Lady Catherine’s
disappointment, although our estrangement does pain me,” Darcy said. “What I
wonder is how Lord and Lady Matlock will respond to my engagement with Miss
Elizabeth.”
“My parents?” Richard’s surprised
mumble filtered through half-chewed carrots. Swallowing, he wiped his mouth and
gulped some wine before speaking further. “Are you seriously subscribing to
Aunt Catherine’s wild allegations of father being of like mind? You know him
better than that!”
“I do. I also remember the affair
of Jonathan’s.”
“That was a completely different
situation, Darcy, if you recall.”
“Actually, I was young, at
Pemberley, and never learned the details. All I remember is my parents talking
about it in vague terms, and that Lord Matlock was furious Jonathan wanted to
marry someone deemed unsuitable. How was it different?”
“For one, my brother is the heir to
an earldom. Secondly, he was barely nineteen. The girl was seventeen and the
daughter of one of our tenant farmers. I may not agree with every social rule
and law of the land, especially the ones that limit my inheritance just because
Jonathan was born a year before me, but if Father had allowed him to marry a
farmer’s daughter, the consequences would have been catastrophic. Jonathan was
a fool, brash, and, let us be frank, thinking with his groin more than his
head.”
Darcy continued to pick at his food
when Richard fell silent. Clearly the affair with his cousin Jonathan was
incomparable to his own. Elizabeth Bennet was the daughter of a gentleman
landowner and not a poor farmer for beginners. Nor was Darcy a green youth or
the heir to a peerage. That still did not guarantee Lord Matlock would be
overjoyed, and while true that his lordship’s approval was not required, Darcy
cringed at the possibility of another family squabble.
As if reading his thoughts, Richard
explained, “What you also must not know, Cousin, is despite Father’s fury and
refusal to sanction a marriage, he did not forbid Jonathan to be with Alice.
That was her name,” he clarified when Darcy glanced up. “He knew better than
that. My brother is not quite as stubborn as you, but close, and Gretna Green
is temptingly nearby.”
They both smiled at that, Darcy
adding a short chuckle. “This is interesting family history I never heard. What
happened to Alice anyway?”
“Jonathan secured her a house in
Arborville, with Father’s financial help and approval.” Darcy’s brows rose even
as his lips pressed together in reproof. “Jon did love Alice, Darcy,” Richard
insisted in defense of his brother, “and neither of my parents wanted him to be
miserable. The relationship carried on for a year or so, until she married a
surgeon from Derby. That was the end of it. Three years and numerous love
affairs later, he met Priscilla. I doubt he is passionately in love with her
any more than he was the others, but they do care for each other and, like it
or not, she was born to be a countess. The point is”—he leaned forward,
stabbing his fork Darcy’s direction—“your relationship with Miss Bennet
is perfectly respectable and she is an excellent lady. Just because you were
too stupid to comprehend this from the start does not mean my father will be.”
“Thanks,” Darcy intoned dryly.
“You are welcome! Glad to help,”
Richard responded gaily. “The ace in your pocket, Darcy, is that you love her.
If my gruff father, with his lofty airs and staunch conservatism, can soften in
Jon’s affair, he will be a marshmallow with you. Hell, you are the only son of
his dearest friend and beloved sister! You probably
could
marry a farmer’s
daughter. Besides, if he does grumble or gripe, my mother will slap sense into
him.”
“Here’s to hoping you are correct
in your assessment.” Darcy raised his wineglass, Richard doing the same but
halting before touching the rims.
“My assessment that my mother will
slap Father? Because that would be entertaining to witness!”
Laughing, they drank to the toast—whatever
it encompassed—and commenced eating without further interruption. Darcy
inquired as to when Lord and Lady Matlock were expected to return from their
holiday in Bath and if they planned to pass through London. Based on a letter
written two weeks prior that had been waiting at his house along with Darcy’s,
the colonel answered that they should be in Town within the week.
“I will be here and shall sing the
praises of Miss Bennet. Fortunately, that is a painless task. By the time you
return to Town later in the month, they will be rapturous over your engagement
and dying to make the acquaintance of your beloved Elizabeth. Trust me.”
“Why do those two words passing
your lips instill shivers of trepidation rather than comfort?” Richard grinned
and said nothing. “Well, Colonel Trustworthy, I have another task for you. If
possible, I would greatly appreciate your superb guardian and militant services
in escorting Georgiana from Pemberley.”
“Stated like that, how can I
refuse? When do you want her here? Or do you prefer I escort her to
Netherfield?”
“That depends, I suppose. If you
can get away in the immediate future, then it would be best to bring her and
Mrs. Annesley to Darcy House.”
Richard assured Darcy he could
manage the journey soon, and Darcy trusted his cousin’s promise and capability
explicitly. Thereafter, they spoke mostly of topics wholly unrelated to
romance. Darcy did tell him of Caroline Bingley’s maneuverings, those
descriptions ridiculously embellished thanks, in part, to the drained bottle of
whiskey. The one time Darcy again mentioned his wedding, Richard stayed him by
holding up his cue stick—the men battling sloppily over a billiard table—and
opined, “Darcy, all I need to know about your wedding, or any wedding for that
matter, is the date and place. I will arrive on time, smile cheerfully, offer
my congratulations rather than sympathies, and happily eat the breakfast after.”
If Darcy retorted, neither
remembered. In fact, they remembered little else after that!
Fall Pruning of Prickly
Debris
Always the Bennet daughter who
delighted in being outside and interacting with nature, Lizzy had dogged the
steps of the grooms and farmhands since a little girl. Asking ceaseless
questions of the workmen grew tiresome quickly, so in desperation, trowels,
brooms, seeds, or anything handy had been thrust into the curious girl’s hands
in an effort to silence her. The tactic worked in part—Lizzy far too
insatiable for knowledge to completely halt her queries—and her becoming skilled
at dozens of jobs rarely imagined by the average upper-class female the result.
“Digging in the dirt like a peasant,” as her mother labeled it, was not a passionate
hobby, but one she enjoyed upon occasion, especially when feeling a bit out of
sorts.
Mr. Darcy is away in Town.
That glum reality influenced Lizzy’s
urge to seek the garden. The soothing combination of being in the out of doors
where the air was fresh and abundant with earthy aromas and performing tasks
that were pleasurable—and in the case of the roses also helpful—was
an irresistible draw.
After breakfast, Lizzy dressed in
an old gown with a grubby apron, worn ankle boots, a floppy-brimmed hat with a
yellow ribbon tied under her chin, and stained leather gloves. Admittedly she
did
resemble a peasant laborer, as Mrs. Bennet claimed. Ignoring her mother’s
stream of dire consequences should Mr. Darcy discover dirt under her
fingernails or a tanned tint to her cheeks, Lizzy exited the house and hastened
to the solitude of the flower garden.
For a blissful hour she hummed and
pruned. Frequently her mind strayed to her betrothed, wondering what he was
doing and when he would return, but the business of precise rose pruning
required enough concentration to shield against undue melancholy. In fact, her
focus blocked the crunch of booted feet on gravel, Lizzy jumping slightly when
a voice spoke behind her.
“Mornin’, Missy Lizzy. ’Tis a fine
day for workin’ in the garden, sure ’nuff, though ’tis a mite on the warm side.
Mrs. Hill sent me fetch a pail a water for ya. Should a thought it myself…Papa
like ta tan my hide for being simple-headed agin.”
Lizzy stood, brushed the loose dirt
off her apron, and turned to the young farmhand. Smiling affectionately, she
asked, “Matty, how many times have I scolded you for calling yourself simple?”
“Lotsa times, ’spose, Missy Lizzy,”
the blushing Matty mumbled into his chest.
“Indeed I have. Probably hundreds,
and that is more than a lot. Remember what I remind you each time?”
“That I is kind and gentle, and
those are ta best of all.” The blush deepened, but he spoke in a slightly
firmer tone, cocked his head, and peered upward.
“Yes. And what else?”
“That no one is smart as me with
fixin’ broke parts.” This time he added a bashful grin and lifted his head a
bit higher.
“It is the truth, so never forget
it. If Mr. Beller says otherwise, you tell him Miss Lizzy will be tanning
his
hide!” Matty guffawed loudly at that. The image, as she intended, was an
amusing one for a host of reasons, not the least of which because Mr. Beller,
Longbourn’s gamekeeper and Matty’s father, was well over two hundred pounds of
solid muscle. “Thank you for the water, Matty. I do appreciate it.”
He was still snorting at Lizzy’s
jest so merely nodded. Then, as he started to turn away, he stopped and
gestured at the pruning shears she held in her gloved hand. “You gotsa loose
spring there, Missy Lizzy. I can fix that quicker than lightning, iffin’ you
want?”
Sure to his word, Matty returned in
twenty minutes with pruning shears not only mended with a new spring, but also
cleaned and oiled. A grateful Lizzy praised the beaming Matty, her effusiveness
unequal to the minor repair but bolstering to the young man.
All the Bennet sisters, even Lydia,
surprisingly, were fiercely protective of Matty Beller.
His age was unknown precisely, the
orphaned boy taken in by the gamekeeper and his wife twenty years prior. The
nuns at the Derby Home for Lost Children had found him abandoned, huddling in
an alley and near death. They estimated he was three to four years, although it
was impossible to be sure due to his extreme malnourishment. The Bellers
brought him to Longbourn, Matty joining their family of five children who had
similarly been saved from parentless situations. For two years he did not
speak, and by the time he did, it was obvious that Matty was mentally damaged.
Whether from birth or as a result of the deprivations afterward, none could
say. Matty’s innocence enhanced his innate gentleness and sunny disposition,
everyone pampering and adoring him. An instant favorite with his siblings and
every child on the estate, to the Bennet girls, he was beloved as if their own
little brother.
