Mr Darcy Requests the Pleasure

by Elizabeth Aston

  He had gone out shooting on his last day at Rosings and that had been when Fitzwilliam, clearly uncomfortable with what he had to say, told him that he must not aspire to Sarah’s hand. “I tell you this as a friend who has your own best interests at heart. You cannot afford at this stage in your profession to become involved in the kind of trouble that any suggestion of an attachment between you and my sister would provoke. It is not that I think you would make a bad husband, but at the moment Sarah does not need any kind of a husband. While you have your advancement to think of and I am afraid that you would be stigmatised as a fortune hunter by wishing to marry Sarah. You would not gain the support of an influential family, but quite the contrary; it would turn a great number of people against you. I value your friendship too highly to have this come between us, and if your situation in life were different, although even then–”

  He broke off, seeing the pain in his friend’s face, but forced himself to continue, “And it is not fair on Sarah. She is too young, she is not yet out, she cannot pledge herself to the first man who takes her fancy.”

  Octavius had to admit the truth of this. It carried more weight with him than the other arguments put forward by Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had left Rosings that very evening without saying more than a formal word of farewell to Sarah. He was wrung to the depths of his soul by the look of hurt and despair in her eyes. When he left the room, she rose impulsively to follow him, saying she must speak to him. Her brother put out a hand to restrain her and as Octavius closed the door behind him, he knew she would not be allowed to come after him.

  He had gone from Rosings directly to Portsmouth, where he was informed that he had been appointed to the command of the sloop Hebe. Wretched at the parting from Sarah, he did not receive this news with the joy he would have felt a few weeks ago, but he pulled himself together. Love was not for him; he must pour all his energy and enthusiasm into his profession. The Hebe was regarded by many in the service as an old tub of a ship, but it was Octavius’s first command, and as he stepped aboard to take command, he could not have been more proud of her than if she had been a man of war.

  The Hebe brought him luck. He had been given a cruise, taken several fat prizes and returned to England a richer man. His successful encounter with a larger French ship brought him to the notice of people in the Admiralty and, to his gratification, he was finally appointed post captain. With his next command came a voyage to the east and he had been away for more than two years, fighting the king’s enemies, dealing with all the problems that beset a man in charge of his fellows aboard a small fragile floating parcel of wood, subject to the vagaries of wind and waves, quite apart from the enemy.

  He grew in experience and seamanship, did well and was finally sent back to England with dispatches and news of a victory. On arrival he was fêted by his fellow officers and generally acknowledged to be lucky and destined for a glowing future. He had been apprehensive while away that on returning to London he must meet up with his old friend Fitzwilliam, and it was with some relief that he discovered that he was at present serving in India under Arthur Wellesley, who was at that time making a name for himself among the sahibs.

  While away he had heard no news of Lady Sarah, and he supposed that by this time she would have made her come-out and doubtless been betrothed and probably married.

  An amorous affair with a widow of a fellow officer persuaded him that he had truly got Lady Sarah out of his system. In his heart of hearts, he knew that the desire he felt for this woman and the pleasure he took in her company had nothing to do with love, and when they parted some months later it was on the most amicable terms. She gave him his congé with great affection, announcing that she was now going to marry a rich merchant. “It is time, my dear Octavius, for you to find some suitable young lady, fall in love, marry and be very happy.

  Then he was off at sea again, this time in the Mediterranean, and it was while he was ashore in Port Mahon attending a dance that he had news of Lady Sarah. Some of the officers, who had taken rather too much of the island’s excellent wine, were talking about her, as one of them had been seen dancing at Almacks with her in London.

  “There you go, Griffiths,” one of the other officers teased him. “What more can you ask? An earl’s daughter with a handsome fortune, and quite a beauty besides.”

  “Beautiful she may be,” said another well-bred officer in the drawl that he affected. “But she has a temper and a tongue on her. I’d want more docility in a wife, she would be untameable and always on at one.”

  Octavius was alarmed to find anger rising in him to such a degree that he wanted to strike out at the men for speaking in this casual and offensive way of Lady Sarah. What was she to him? Nothing, not after these years; so how could her mere name arouse such a strength of feeling?

  Then one of them turned and saw him, and said, “We were just talking of Lady Sarah Fitzwilliam, Hyde. Now, you must be thinking of finding a wife, with all that prize money tucked away in the bank. And are you not a good friend of her brother, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  The man with the drawl said, “Prize money is well enough, and Hyde has an honoured name, but I think that particular earl’s daughter is rather above his touch.”

  The words stung; for the first time in his life Octavius was on the verge of insulting a man and calling him out. But he recalled that he could not fight over Lady Sarah’s name, and how ridiculous it was even to think of it when all their acquaintance was so firmly in the past, behind the door that had closed on him when he shook the dust of Rosings from his feet.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sarah was grateful that for the present Lord Winterbourne was more interested in comparing different makes of shot than he was in her. Yesterday she had promised that she would give him her answer to his proposal today–and she must in honour give it to him. It had been her intention, her firm decision on rising that morning, to accept his offer of marriage. What a difference a few hours could make; how easily the calm of the morning had changed to turmoil at the appearance of a man she had not seen for five years.

  If the Bingleys had postponed their coming by even an hour, she would have told Lord Winterbourne she would become his wife. In all the activity of their arrival, however, there was no chance of this, and now her mind was in such a state of agitation, such a stir of memory, that she could not have given him a sensible answer, favourable or otherwise.

  Of course, there could be no question of a renewal of the sentiments they had felt for one another, or that she had believed they had. At Rosings, in those dark days, Tindall told her that Octavius had been almost drummed off the premises thanks to the intransigence of Lady Catherine. Why had he not put up a fight, why had he made no attempt to see her in London? He had simply left Rosings and walked out of her life. But that whole brief episode of her younger days was in the past, all traces of those emotions must have faded with time.

  However, she could not at this moment bring herself to give any answer to Lord Winterbourne. The sporting talk among the gentlemen and the conversation with Jane and Elizabeth about the latest fashions from Paris meant that by the time they parted to go upstairs to dress for dinner, there was no possibility of Lord Winterbourne seeking her out for a private conversation.

  She went swiftly upstairs so that there could be no opportunity for him to approach her and almost ran into her room. Tindall was waiting for her and one glance at her mistress’s face told her something of her state of mind. She bustled about, saying in deliberately flat tones, “Quite a coincidence, the young gentleman that was a guest at Rosings all those years ago coming here. But I suppose he is a friend of the family. He came to Rosings as a friend of your brother, so it is not surprising that he should be acquainted with Mr. Darcy.”

  Sarah said absently, as she allowed Tindall to pull her afternoon dress over her head, “I do not think he is particularly acquainted with Mr. Darcy. I think he would hardly count as a friend of the family. He is here because he happened to be
staying with the Bingleys. He knows Mr. Bingley, and some young connection or relative of Mr. Bingley’s served under him as a midshipman. Captain Hyde came to Derbyshire on purpose to bring the Bingleys news of him, for he was injured at Trafalgar.”

  “The poor young gentleman,” Tindall exclaimed. “It’s terrible, all these young men going off to war and coming back with limbs missing. Has the young gentleman a limb missing?” she enquired with ghoulish interest.

  “I have not the least idea; I believe not.”

  Sarah dressed with particular care for dinner, choosing one of her finest gowns. Tindall raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and Sarah would not even admit to herself that she had that she wanted to appear at her best because of Octavius being at Pemberley. She told herself that to dress well provided a kind of protection for her at a time when she was feeling uncertain and uneasy. The power of an elegant gown to give one a feeling of strength was remarkable.

  She lingered over her toilette, fussing about a necklace, taking time to choose a pair of earrings, asking Tindall to change the arrangement of her hair, until in the end Tindall said in a firm voice, “Unless you go down directly, my lady, you will keep the whole company waiting, for everyone else must be down and dinner about to be announced.”

  That was exactly Sarah’s intention. She did not want to go down and find that Lord Winterbourne was come down early, waiting and eager to have the opportunity to speak to her. She was safe only in company, and she must endeavour for the rest of the evening to make sure that she was not alone with him.

  As Tindall twitched her gown into place, she remarked again in the same disinterested tone, “Lord Winterbourne is a fine-looking man, and every inch the gentleman, but as to looks, Captain Hyde has far the handsomer figure and features.”

  Sarah snapped her fan shut and without replying, sailed out of the room, chin held high, her heart thumping in a most irregular and disturbing way. She must take a deep breath, collect herself as she went down the wide staircase and strive to appear perfectly composed.

  All the others had indeed finished dressing and gone downstairs before her. Two of the earliest down were Captain Hyde and Mr. Bingley, who were ushered by the butler into the red salon to await the others.

  “Who is this Lord Winterbourne?” Octavius asked. “I have never heard of him.”

  “You would most likely not, for he has been serving abroad, as have you, but he was in the army. And he has only just come into the title, he was formerly a Mr. Cranleigh,” Mr. Bingley said. “I have met him in town once or twice. I fancy he is not well acquainted with the Darcys, but, in any case, Jane tells me that he is here on account of Lady Sarah. It seems there is an attachment there and an engagement is expected, it is the talk of the town. I dare say it would be a good match for them both.”

  Octavius hardly knew what to say. Sarah about to become engaged to Lord Winterbourne? He regretted with all his heart that he had made this journey now. What ill-timing, how unfortunate that the Bingleys were visiting to Pemberley when Winterbourne was there to see Lady Sarah.

  “Jane, however, disagrees with me upon that subject, and so does Mrs. Darcy. We must bow to their greater judgement in these affairs. The fairer sex are always so much more percipient in such matters, they understand the workings of the heart rather better than we do. Not that they disagree that it would be a good match as to rank and fortune and so forth, but although it is clear that Lady Sarah is attached to his lordship, Elizabeth told Jane that her cousin is not in love with him. But I should not be repeating this, it is not right we should gossip. They will doubtless settle the business to their own satisfaction. One thing I am sure of, from my knowledge of Lady Sarah: her yea will be yea and her nay, nay. She is not a young lady to prevaricate about this or anything else.”

  The dinner, as always at Pemberley, was a good one. Both the gentlemen and the ladies were keen to hear from Captain Hyde a first-hand account of the action at Trafalgar, and while he refused to say much about his own efforts during that stirring battle, he was very ready to show exactly how the action had preceded and his description and explanations of the various stages of the battle were listened to with keen attention. When it came to the moment of Lord Nelson’s death on the Victory everyone looked solemn and Jane said, “What a loss to our country, how grieved we were to hear of his sad end. It quite took the shine off our great victory.”

  Mr. Darcy said, “I gather that the men who served under him all loved him.”

  “As did his officers,” said Captain Hyde. “I did not have the honour of serving directly under him, but I know from such of my comrades who did that he was a most excellent commander, and a kind and thoughtful one as well.”

  “Not thoughtful and kind when it came to the enemy,” Elizabeth said.

  “No, indeed, a braver officer there never was. And his courage cost him his life.”

  There was a momentary pause as if in respect for the gallant Admiral, and then the conversation became more general.

  Sarah was seated next to Octavius, and although while he was giving his account of the fighting he obviously was not attending to her, when the conversation changed he could not help but speak to her.

  It was no use, she could not pretend to herself that the passing of five years had weakened the attraction she felt for him. And even as they conversed in civil tones about the weather, about his journey from London, about the likely length of his stay in this country, she was aware of how far removed those feelings then and now were from what she felt for Lord Winterbourne.

  The meal finally came to an end, the ladies left the gentlemen to their port in the dining room and went into the drawing room. The older children were brought down for half an hour and Sarah entertained them with card games and tricks while Jane and Elizabeth talked together. Sarah could not help overhearing some of their conversation, for they were discussing Captain Hyde.

  “I am delighted with him,” Jane Bingley said. “I had not met him before, although Charles had, and spoke well of him. We are amazed by his kindness with regard to young Tom. He makes little of it, but I know that his swift action at the time and making sure afterwards that he was seen by a good physician probably saved the boy’s life. And then we are so grateful to him for coming to tell us how he goes on and set our minds at rest. He says it is nothing, that it is the custom in the navy. And, you know, I like him for himself, there is an air to him and an energy and an intelligence which must please.” She called across to Sarah, “I hear you met Captain Hyde before, do you know him well?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I only met him once, and that briefly. He was for a short while a guest at Rosings while I was staying there.”

  Jane and Elizabeth’s conversation turned to other subjects, Sarah took young Miss Camilla to task for cheating, and then the gentlemen came in. After a short while the governess came in to collect her young charges, and before the suggestion could be made that Sarah should entertain the company at the pianoforte, she seized her chance to escape. She could not risk the danger of Lord Winterbourne finding an opportunity to take her aside. She apologised to Elizabeth, saying that she had the headache and hoped she might be permitted to excuse herself.

  “Of course, said Elizabeth. “Tell your maid to bring you up a tisane, and have a good night’s sleep. It has been a long day and I dare say you are still tired after the journey from London. You will feel better in the morning.”

  A curtsy to the gentlemen, and Sarah whisked herself out of the room.

  Chapter Twelve

  The previous morning, Sarah had woken with a sense of calm resolution, her mind made up: she was going to marry Lord Winterbourne. How different this day’s awakening was, with her emotions in such a state of confusion.

  She must not let herself imagine that she was in danger of being as much in love with Octavius as she ever had been. She argued with herself that what she remembered was a girlish infatuation and not love. And as for him? If he hadn’t fallen in love with her
, why had he proposed marriage? Round and round went her troubled thoughts.

  Yet whatever the truth of those day at Rosings, the memory of them and the feeling aroused by the presence of Octavius brought home to her that such feelings as she did have for Lord Winterbourne were of a different nature. How sure could she be that an intensity of feeling, an underlying passion weren’t necessary for a happy marriage? Her rational self told her that the kind of sentiment she had felt for Octavius, such strong feelings, must inevitably pass with time and the daily round of domestic life. Her awareness of other couples’ marriages showed that this was indeed most often the case. But surely a lifelong relationship needed to start with some extra impulsion, some strength of feeling? Friendship was indeed an element of the best marriages, but could a marriage be based on friendship alone?

  Had she posed the question to herself in those terms yesterday morning, she would have replied, Yes, it could. But now? Oh, that was a different matter; now her opinion had changed; now that answer would be dishonest.

  What a quandary she was in! She must give Lord Winterbourne his answer as she had promised. If it were another answer than the one she would have given yesterday, then what a false position she was in. Why, oh, why, had she told Elizabeth that she had decided to marry Lord Winterbourne? Her cousin would no doubt have told Mr. Darcy and probably Jane and Mr. Bingley; she had not enjoined secrecy upon her. All of them must be in hourly expectation of being able to wish her and Winterbourne happy. She would seem to be a foolish young woman, who did not know her own mind, since she could hardly explain why she now thought so differently about Lord Winterbourne.

  At least this morning she would once more be saved from any immediate encounter with Lord Winterbourne by the shooting party. It had been agreed among the gentlemen before dinner that they would set out for some distant coverts quite early in the morning. Lord Winterbourne clearly intended to be among their number and so, even though she had woken much earlier this morning, she could safely go downstairs without risk of meeting him. She would set out for a long walk, and perhaps later on go out for a ride and gallop the perplexity out of her system.