To Teach the Admiring Multitude

by Eleanor Wilton

  She had put down her basket and walked across the room to where he sat, stood before him and caressed his face. Lifting his hand to her waist, he urged her to sit upon his knee as she began to sing anew, a song of love and fidelity. Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun: I will luve thee still, my dear, Whilst the sands of live shall run.[17] She sang softly, intimately, until the breath of her song mingled with his own and was silenced by a long, unhurried kiss. “Eliza,” he had called her for the first time, enraptured. The moment had been sublime, and he felt its effect anew as a longing to be returned to her side coursed through him with speed.

  Chapter 32

  Questionable Associations

  The following evening Mr. Darcy arrived again at the Harrels in a mood of impatient determination. London was particularly hot and foul smelling these days; he was physically uncomfortable, and desired nothing more than to be strolling beneath the shade of the lime trees at Pemberley with his wife on his arm. Instead he was again entering the home of a man whose society he abhorred to remove a cousin who had hitherto felt an equal revulsion to such dissolute company. Mr. Harrel’s entire attitude on the previous day had been too insinuating for comfort, as though he thought everyone easily corruptible. It was distasteful to think these people thought him susceptible to their schemes and unprincipled ambitions. He was highly displeased, wished that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been available for the disagreeable business of extracting his brother from these dangerous influences. Military men could go anywhere with impunity, but he felt himself tainted by the association, and was dismayed at his cousin’s newly found predilections.

  As the footman led him down the corridor to the drawing room where Mr. Darcy might find his cousin, he stopped in midcourse. The entire experience had immediately turned more disagreeable and discomfiting. In the doorway before him stood Glencora Morris, her spectacular beauty in ostentatious display. She stepped out into the corridor and impeded his way, smiled her brilliant mendacious smile.

  “Why, Darcy, you of all people here at the Harrels!” Her voice was as disarming as her beauty. A rich, deep alto that carried within its tones promises of pleasure and abandon.

  “Mr. Darcy,” he replied scrupulously.

  “Truly?” she remarked with a chuckle. “Such formality between old friends?”

  “We are not old friends.”

  She lifted her hand and rested it a moment on his shoulder and let it fall slowly down the length of his arm. “We were meant to have been so much more.” He took a step backward, clearly not impassive to her touch, and she was pleased to see she had not lost the ability to affect him.

  “I am here to see the Viscount Highpointe, not to re-establish old associations,” he replied with cold dismissal.

  “Ah yes. The Viscountess is such a surprising woman. Such a dull creature until she sits at a table of cards. She comes alive and is rather sharp—what a designing mind hidden beneath her monotone conversation! Nevertheless, the Harrels will best her in the end; they always do. I never play cards. I only play where I am certain to win. I have lost so few times, but recognize that when I have it has been dramatically so.”

  He stared at her for a moment in silence. She was as insinuating and duplicitous as ever, but he was not the same young man she had known, blindly infatuated by her beauty. He walked past her without another word.

  Glencora Morris watched him go and smiled greedily. He had been a good-looking youth, but he had grown into a remarkably well-figured and elegant man. He carried his wealth with effortless distinction. She had caught sight of him about town a few times over the winter and had profoundly lamented how poorly she had played her hand when they were young. She continued to wonder how such an insignificant looking woman could have won him. She thought perchance his appearance at the Harrels opportune to her current predicament; married men grew bored quickly; he would be no different, possibly he already had. She turned back into the room from whence she had emerged and though she had not gambled in ever so long a time, thought that perhaps it was time to once again play for all or nothing. Opportunities such as this were not readily available.

  Mr. Darcy forgot her as soon as he walked into the drawing room. He was appalled by what he saw. The Viscount Highpointe’s reputation for extravagance was surpassed only by his reputation for exacting good taste. He was known to be a man who indulged certain pleasures with discretion and what might even be called temperance. He was certainly never known to indulge where indiscretion or disrepute might be a consequence. Yet here he was in the house of an infamously dissolute and indebted gentleman, sitting inelegantly in a chair in the far end of the room, his attire sloppy, his hair dishevelled and a drink dangling from his hand whilst his wife sat at a table engrossed in a high-stakes game of cards.

  Edward did not immediately register his cousin’s arrival, but Mrs. Harrel was instantly at Mr. Darcy’s side, obsequious in her welcome. She was a petite and pretty woman with a calculating gaze; she and Glencora Morris had been school friends and it had been upon her insistence that Miss Morris had returned from the continent in search of regeneration. She attempted with her most seductive manners to persuade Mr. Darcy to join in the game of cards. There were two tables of partners. “We have only just begun,” she insisted, although it was evident they had been at it for some time already. “We can happily make room for you. My brother need not play on.”

  “Forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Harrel,” Darcy replied with all the civility he could muster. “I have come only to see the Viscount. If you would be so kind as to provide us a room where we might converse in private.”

  “Naturally,” she replied, but delayed and dallied. It was obvious why Mr. Darcy was there and neither she nor her husband had any wish to let the Viscount and the Viscountess fall under the influence of Mr. Darcy and his famous rectitude. The unhappy couple was just beginning to be completely vulnerable to their influence. It had been fortuitous to be in town just as the couple had returned from what appeared to be a disastrous cohabitation at Highpointe Manor; fortuitous to have seen them sitting alone at The Pineapple Confectioner, stoic and bored and uncomfortable in their mutual company.

  Mr. Darcy had no patience for her dissembling. “Mrs. Harrel!” he intoned at last in his most condescending tones. “A room at my disposition, if you will!”

  Mr. Darcy walked across the room to his cousin, who could not entirely comprehend his presence. “You here, Darcy?”

  “Regrettably. Come with me now to the other room,” he commanded.

  Edward rose without resistance. He felt strangely relieved by his cousin’s unexpected appearance and followed him, walking unsteadily but unhesitatingly. They were provided a very small, dark room, and as soon as the door was closed and Edward seated, Darcy began without preamble.

  “Edward, what in the devil are you doing here?”

  Edward looked at his cousin, forgetting for a moment where he was, so bewildering and unimaginable was Darcy’s presence in this house. “I could not abide a day more at Highpointe Manor. Such a lonely, secluded place.”

  “I do not refer to London. Here in this house?”

  “Drinking it seems. Gambling. They are very accommodating, the Harrels.”

  “Naturally they would be under the circumstances.”

  “The party has been exceedingly diverting.”

  “I hardly recognize you, Edward. We must leave this house directly and we can speak of all this in the morning when your head has cleared. Come, man!” he exclaimed. Darcy walked over and offered his hand to his cousin.

  “Leave?”

  “Immediately.”

  Edward stared at his cousin. Darcy was such a solid, reliable fellow that Edward felt suddenly strangely adolescent in his presence. “Where am I to go? There is no privacy at Grosvenor Square,” he declared petulantly.

  “You will come to Portman Square and have all the privacy you desire.”

  “The Viscountess will not come.”r />
  Darcy hesitated a moment. He had no intention of causing a scene with the Viscountess. He needed only to remove Edward from these unfortunate influences. “Let her remain here tonight and you can return for her tomorrow. Tonight you are to come with me to Portman Square. We must not delay.”

  “It has been strangely pleasing to see her enthusiasm,” he murmured. “I fear Harrel has entirely out played her; she is determined to recuperate her losses.”

  “Edward!” Darcy cried in dismay. “Surely you do not wish to be associated with these people? Before your reputation is injured you must leave this disreputable house.”

  “My reputation?”

  “You cannot believe that such questionable associates will not sully your good name.”

  Edward looked at his cousin and through his drunken perplexity a certain lucidity returned. “Yes, please, take me away from this wretched house. I don’t even know how I came to be here. Get me out. It disgusts me!”

  “You must inform your wife.”

  “My wife? She will neither notice nor care for my absence.”

  Mr. Darcy took it upon himself to inform the Viscountess that her husband was departing with him. She was as entirely indifferent as Edward had imagined she would be and was far more concerned with the game at hand. The Harrels displayed far more anxiety and reservation, but after some commotion and awkwardness, Darcy at last had his cousin deposited in his carriage and on his way to Portman Square.

  Darcy was thoroughly disgusted with his cousin’s state. There were few things he found more abhorrent than a gentleman with no self-regulation, and his cousin, for all his many sins, had never lacked self-regulation. He sat in the corner of the carriage now, conversing in a meandering fashion, drunk and unkempt.

  “Eh, cousin,” he said. “Did you see your old friend Glencora Morris? Seems she and Mrs. Harrel are old school chums. If I had not my firm policy to entertain only professional women who give one no troubles, I might have tried to enjoy her attentions. Harrel says she is willing enough for a sufficiently rich gentleman; she is in desperate straits. Such a beauty, your friend.”

  “She is not my friend.”

  “Such a figure she has; sheer perfection of form. How did you resist such a woman? She was certainly welcoming of your attentions. She made no secret of where her interests lie.”

  “Do you not recall the rest of the story?”

  Edward snorted inelegantly. “Women! They are all dishonest and deceitful.”

  “Not all women.”

  “Are you quite sure about that, cousin?”

  “Quite,” Darcy replied coldly and said not another word until they arrived at his door.

  With the help of Hewitt, Edward was put to bed and Darcy thought the evening excitement finished, but his butler came to him some time after to inform him there was a person waiting for him in the parlour.

  “At this hour, Perkins?”

  “An urgent message from the Viscountess.”

  Darcy returned downstairs to the drawing room expecting to find Mr. Harrel, but found instead Glencora Morris audaciously and provocatively standing in the middle of his drawing room, impatiently swinging her reticule from its string.

  “Miss Morris!” he cried with consternation. “You cannot have been sent with a message from the Viscountess, and at this late hour.”

  “Of course not, darling,” she replied, turning to him with a confident smile.

  “I am not your darling.”

  “I was, once.”

  “What madness has brought you here?”

  “No madness. I was recalled earlier to our outstanding assignation.”

  “Good God!” he cried. “You cannot be in earnest?”

  “Entirely,” she declared. She walked across the room to him and touched his face. “I have ascertained you are unaccompanied. No one need be aware should you have a special friend you enjoy visiting with from time to time.”

  In spite of himself, Darcy felt a hot rush of primitive desire rush through him. He pulled away and she smiled her brilliant, mendacious smile.

  “This is what has become of you? To appear in the house of a married gentleman to proposition him?”

  A look of indignation washed across her face. She still held onto a certain notion of dignity and pride whatever her circumstances and reputation. “You are not any gentleman. We had something so very promising. Why should we not discover at long last that promise? We are neither of us any longer in such situations that we must renounce now what was once so auspicious. A gentleman in your position never need forsake what he desires.”

  Darcy scoffed disdainfully. “Lies and deceit offer nothing of promise; there was nothing auspicious between us.”

  “Such obstinacy!” She stepped forward again, but did not touch him. She leaned close to him and whispered. “Have you truly forgotten that evening when you held me in your arms and we kissed? Oh, it was more than sweet. But you broke your word and did not come to me as you promised you would.”

  He responded in a tone of even, unmistakable coldness. “What I have not forgotten is that you wished to compromise me that you might pass off another man’s child as my own.”

  “Men are so squeamish about these things. Such a beautiful, intelligent child.”

  “I have no interest in the merits of your child. I can only assume you now have troubles of equal importance or you would not so brazenly enter a house to which you are most unwelcomed.”

  “You were not so cold when you were young,” she replied, edging closer to his person, her piercing blue eyes daring him to hold her gaze. “You were far from cold in my presence. You could hardly breathe when I was near.”

  Though he indeed felt that old youthful desire coursing traitorously through him, years of regulation served him well and he responded in a voice even and unsympathetic. “I do not know in what desperate situation you must now find yourself to so debase yourself, to come into my home, at this hour, after an accidental meeting. You could not fool me into being your protector when I was an inexperienced boy, what makes you believe you can obtain some advantage from me now?”

  She touched him again, lightly and briefly on the chest. “When you saw me again at the opera you felt the same flush of desire you felt then. You feel it now. Beneath your cold rectitude your heart is racing.”

  “You have grossly misunderstood my character, Miss Morris. You will leave now. Your presence in this house is an affront to my wife.”

  He turned on his heel and began to walk out of the room. She reached out and grasped him by the arm. “All of London knew what we were to be to each other. You were not chivalrous when you abandoned me; you were cruel and did not hide what you thought of me, what you knew of me. I might have gone away quietly and had my child unbeknownst to everyone. Do you think you played no role in my debasement? You have an obligation to my ruined reputation.”

  “Do you think me still the same impressionable young man I was at nineteen, so easily swayed by your fabrications and contortions of the truth? If you are in such desperate want, go to the father of your child, whoever he may be. He and no one else owes you a debt for the ruin of your reputation. Stop now before you demean yourself any more than you already have.”

  “What would your wife think if she knew I had been here?” she threatened angrily.

  Darcy at last looked into her eyes and held her gaze. “Disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. I have no secrets from my wife. I will inform her myself. Noble, generous-hearted woman that she is, she will think you a sad creature worthy of pity.”

  Glencora Morris dropped his arm now and saw how profoundly she had erred. It had been an act of desperation, encouraged by her friend Mrs. Harrel who believed there was no person who could not be seduced, nothing in life that was sacred, no gamble too risky. She was mortified by her miscalculation.

  Darcy called his butler. “Perkins, ensure that this woman arrives safely to wherever she is going, and instruct the staff that she is never to
be permitted to set foot in this house again.” He walked away and left her in the foyer staring after his departing figure, her reticule hanging motionlessly from her hand.

  Chapter 33

  Confessions and Lamentations

  Portman Square, London

  My dearest Elizabeth, I wish I could write you with good news. This journey into London has been exceedingly disagreeable and I am eager to be quickly returned to the peace and felicity of Pemberley with you and Georgiana.

  There is much to give alarm with my cousin and his wife. Lord and Lady Richmond, to say nothing of Edward himself, have been utterly misled by Lord Faircloth and his daughter. It would appear that the Viscountess is an established gambler and has now introduced Edward to those vices he had in the past so assiduously avoided. They are here in London and have taken up with the Harrels who are even more dissolute than their reputation portends. With Colonel Fitzwilliam unable to leave his regiment, Lady Richmond was anxious that I might assist in removing Edward from such unfortunate influences. Edward is sleeping now here at Portman Square, but I am unsure how successfully or quickly we may proceed from here. I may be en route to Pemberley as early as tomorrow, or I may still be required for more time. Until I speak with Edward I cannot confirm. I can assure you I will not delay a moment more than required.

  There has been another unrelated occurrence, of which I shall speak to you when I have returned home. Believe me desirous of exposing to you all the unpleasant facts—it was most objectionable. Do not be alarmed; I am perfectly well, only deeply shocked by the incident.

  Indeed, all I have contended with since arriving to town has served to deepen my gratitude for the honesty and felicity of our union. I am impatient to be returned to your side. How quickly I have forgotten what it is to live peacefully with solitude! I cannot sleep, my dearest Eliza. I long to be returned to your loving embrace, to feel you warm and soft in my arms, to taste your sweet kisses and feel your trembling desire. I long for the sound of your laughter and your teasing impertinences. I long for just the sight of you.