Thursday's Child

by Pat Santarsiero

  “The other part is, do you ever plan to make your feelings known to Miss Bennet?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  At seven o’clock that evening, an impressive carriage pulled up in front of Pemberley, and Lord Westcott and his daughter, Arielle, were announced. Darcy greeted the new arrivals with pleasure and escorted them into the parlour. All of Pemberley’s guests were in attendance except for Elizabeth, who had wanted to spend as much time with Ellie as possible before she was obliged to join the others.

  Lord Westcott once again held Darcy and Georgiana captive as he regaled them with stories of years gone by regarding their parents and his late wife. Arielle stood quietly next to Mr. Darcy, occasionally looking up shyly at his amused expression which displayed his enjoyment of all he heard. Charles, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and Caroline were playing a game of whist at one card table as Jane looked on while Lady Catherine, Lord and Lady Matlock, and Richard were seated at another.

  Caroline was having difficulty concentrating on the cards in her hand. She silently cursed herself for having brought Miss Westcott into Mr. Darcy’s life. Having to cope with the likes of Miss Eliza was one thing, but this woman possessed all the qualifications Mr. Darcy would require in a wife.

  She was young and healthy, probably no more than twenty. And by the way Mr. Darcy had admired her at the ball, Caroline supposed the young woman could be considered attractive. Her father was titled, and it was rumoured that she had a vast fortune of her own, left to her by her late mother’s estate. Caroline could not help stealing glances as Mr. Darcy bestowed his rare smiles upon the woman.

  Caroline was not the only person in the room who was more than a little interested in the way Mr. Darcy attended his new guests with such amiability. Lady Matlock raised an eyebrow towards her husband, who in turn nodded his head to indicate he had been struck with a similar notion. While Caroline’s objective was to separate the two as soon as possible, Lord and Lady Matlock’s was quite the opposite.

  When Elizabeth entered the parlour, William’s eyes met hers. They had not spoken of the kiss that had occurred between them the night before. She tried to read his thoughts, but his countenance betrayed nothing. “Miss Bennet, please allow me to introduce you to Lord Westcott and his daughter.”

  She joined the foursome and graciously greeted them. Before they had conversed for very long, Lady Matlock also joined them. “Stanford, your daughter has grown into a lovely young woman,” she stated,

  “Yes, although it seems like only yesterday that Arielle was playing hopscotch with her friends,” he replied.

  The young woman blushed. “Papa, really! I have not played such childish games for years and years,” she protested.

  Darcy smiled at the young girl. Lady Matlock then asked, “Tell me, Miss Westcott, do you play the pianoforte?”

  “Why, yes, it is one of my greatest pleasures.”

  “Well then, Darcy, you must show Miss Westcott the music room since she is so fond of playing. Go along with them, Georgiana, and show Miss Westcott your new pianoforte.” Again the young woman blushed.

  “It would be my pleasure, Miss Westcott,” said Darcy as he extended his arm to guide her.

  Lady Matlock beamed as she witnessed Darcy’s attentiveness. “Let us leave the young people to their own diversions, Stanford. Come take my place at cards. Henry could use a partner with your cunning. My son has beaten us three games in a row.”

  Satisfied that she had arranged for Darcy to spend time with the very eligible Miss Westcott with only Georgiana as their chaperone, her face betrayed her disappointment as Darcy turned back and asked, “Miss Bennet, won’t you join us?”

  “I thank you, sir, but no.”

  “Do you not play, Miss Bennet?” asked Miss Westcott as she timidly rested her hand on Mr. Darcy’s arm.

  “A little, but very ill indeed,” answered Elizabeth.

  “That is not true, Elizabeth,” protested Georgiana. “You play wonderfully. Please come with us.”

  At that moment Caroline Bingley made her way from the card table. “I’m afraid Mr. Hurst has undone us all,” she proclaimed. “Mr. Darcy, were you about to seek entertainment in the music room? I would be most happy to play for you. Of course, you must agree to turn the pages for me,” she cooed as she took his other arm.

  Elizabeth took in the scene before her. She would not be part of this shameless vying for William’s attentions. “I beg you would excuse me,” she pleaded. “I fear a headache coming on. I think it would be wise to retire to my rooms.” She bade everyone goodnight and ascended the stairs, following the now familiar blue and yellow carpeting.

  Once in her room, Elizabeth knew it was too early to seek sleep. She had not ventured into the sitting room since her arrival and thought this would be a good opportunity. She changed into her nightclothes, picked up one of her books and opened the door that connected the two rooms.

  Closing the door behind her, she chose the comfort of the oversized chair rather than that of the divan. But her mind was too busy to read just yet as she pictured William in the company of Miss Bingley and Miss Westcott. If you included Georgiana, the man was surrounded by woman who obviously adored him; he did not need her to add to his admirers.

  She was beginning to believe she was not as immune to Mr. Darcy as she had pretended to be. He certainly had been his most charming while in her company. He had afforded her every courtesy and had treated her with the greatest respect. And most importantly, he had completely disregarded the terms of their agreement, allowing her complete access to her daughter.

  As she thought upon it, she tried to think back to every interaction that had occurred between them since that fateful day she had fainted at the sight of him and Ellie. As she did this, she was all astonishment. In every instance she could bring to mind, he had been nothing but kind and generous. Had she allowed her shame to taint her judgment of him?

  His kiss last night was not unwelcomed. Had she been secretly hoping he would kiss her? But she could think of nothing worse than discovering she was in love with him, only to find that he did not return her love.

  Her last defence against her barricade of misgivings had been shattered when she had learned from Jane that Mr. Darcy had been instrumental in Charles’s proposing. The other tidbit of information that Jane had inadvertently revealed only convinced her that Jane’s innate nature made her convey her own optimism in regard to Mr. Darcy’s affections rather than any he may have actually expressed.

  She opened her book and began reading. After an hour or so, as interesting as the book was, she fell asleep. She awoke some time later unaware of how much time had elapsed. The candles she had brought in with her were now just pools of liquid wax. With only the light from the moon shining through the windows, she sought the door to her bedchamber. She entered the room, but did not recognize her surroundings. As she discerned she had obviously opened the wrong door, she turned to retreat, but something caught her eye.

  She noted the décor and the exquisite furnishings. But what had drawn her attention was the painting above the bed. It was her painting. The painting she had bought in St. Andrews.

  Elizabeth was drawn to it, and she moved towards it as though it held some power over her. It could not be the same painting. But as she approached it, she read the plaque on the frame and confirmed her suspicion. Yes, it was the very painting she had bought. The painting she had left behind at the cottage.

  But how did it get there? And why did it merit such a prominent place?

  Before she could gather her thoughts, he entered his bedchamber. Startled by the sight of her, but aware of the impropriety of her presence, he quickly shut the door to avoid discovery from others.

  His eyes devoured her. She was modestly covered by her nightdress, but knowing that the thin material was the only obstacle to her lush body made his pulse quicken, not to mention its other effects.

  “Miss Bennet,” he acknowledged as he circled around her. Whatever reason had brought
her to stand in the middle of his bedchamber, he cared not.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy! Please excuse me!” She hurriedly turned to walk back towards the door to the sitting room, her face red with embarrassment. But he caught her arm and brought her exceedingly close.

  “I should not be in your bedchamber, sir. I opened the wrong door and entered your room by mistake. I . . . I saw the painting above your bed, and it drew my attention. It is my painting, is it not?”

  “Yes.”

  They stared at each other, and Elizabeth suddenly felt out of breath.

  “I should leave, Mr. Darcy.” She again turned towards the sitting room door, but his voice stopped her just as she reached for the knob.

  “I went to see you again at the cottage,” he said abruptly, “but you had already gone. When I saw the painting, for the first time, I understood. To keep such a memento of our time together could only mean you had feelings for me. But your leaving it behind could only mean that you wished to forget me. Although I knew neither of us would ever forget, I thought it was best for both of us to at least try.”

  She turned from the door, and he was now standing directly before her. She looked up at him and met his gaze. “What would you have said to me had I not already left the cottage?” she softly asked.

  “I have thought upon that often. I had nothing to offer you, but I wanted you to know . . . to understand that you had touched my heart as no other woman had before. He reached for her then, his hand securing her waist as he drew her towards him, his mouth now inches from hers. “Lizzy . . .”

  As he said her name, she let out a small gasp. She had not heard him call her that since Scotland, and she could not deny her desire to relive the intimacy they had once shared.

  “I must go,” she said as she forced herself to leave his embrace. She exited his bedchamber and quickly closed the door behind her.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  In the early morning hours of the next day, Darcy entered the breakfast room and was surprised to find Richard already seated with a cup of coffee before him. Darcy poured one for himself, and the two cousins sat across from each other.

  “I am usually the only one up this early,” stated Richard. “The military has trained me to rise before dawn. What has you up this early?”

  “I could not sleep.” confessed Darcy.

  “Perhaps you have something on your mind that needs to be discussed?”

  There were a few moments of silence.

  “I don’t believe I ever apologized for my poor behaviour yesterday. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Do you not?” asked Richard with a slightly bemused look.

  With resignation in his voice, he answered, “I suppose I do.”

  He looked directly at his cousin. “I love her, Richard.”

  “I know.”

  “I have no idea if she returns my feelings.”

  “Darcy, don’t you think it’s about time you found out?”

  “I am almost afraid to find out.”

  “Do you believe she has reason to reject you?” asked Richard.

  “I have given her many. But that is not my greatest fear.”

  His cousin looked at him in question.

  “My greatest fear is that she will accept me for reasons other than love. I have already experienced a union where an inequity of feelings existed. I could not bear it if we were to marry and she did not return my love.”

  “Do you fear how our family will react if she does return your affections?”

  “It is obvious your parents wish for me to form an attachment to Miss Westcott. The poor girl has barely been here a day, and your mother is already scheming a match.”

  Richard smiled at his cousin. “My mother is always trying to match someone. The only reason she is not trying to match me with Miss Westcott is because I told her years ago that if she did not allow me to choose my own wife, I would not marry at all.”

  Darcy thought wistfully for a moment. “I have tried to imagine if my father were still alive, what his reaction would be to my intentions towards Miss Bennet. I know his expectations were for me to marry into a titled family as he had done. But I would like to believe that had he met Elizabeth, he would understand my decision.”

  “Anyone who has met Miss Bennet could not but approve, Darcy,” replied Richard.

  “I must ready myself,” said Richard as he rose from the table. “I am accompanying Georgiana and my parents to Lambton this morning.”

  Before he left the room, he turned to his cousin once again.

  “Would Georgiana not have had a happier childhood if not for the loss of her mother? Little girls need their mothers, Darcy.”

  ~*~

  A new dawn brought Elizabeth much anxiety. She was grateful that many of the inhabitants of Pemberley had their own agenda and her absence from their activities was not obviously noted.

  Richard, Georgiana, and Lord and Lady Matlock had departed for Lambton earlier in the day while Mr. Darcy and the rest of the party took to various outdoor activities—the gentlemen fishing, while the ladies found themselves gathered on the lawn of the east gardens, excessively diverted with a newly introduced game called dominos.

  Elizabeth kept to herself except for a morning walk with Ellie and Mrs. Hawkins.

  In the afternoon she went to the stables and rode Shayla aimlessly until she came upon a copse of trees that afforded a fair amount of shade. She dismounted and sat upon a large rock.

  She tried to ascertain William’s feelings. Was he attracted to the young and pretty Miss Westcott? Did he support his aunt and uncle in their obvious campaign? They certainly made a pretty picture together; her light hair and complexion a dramatic contrast to his dark features.

  But last night his words to her made her wonder if Jane’s opinion had been correct, that it was possible that William truly had feelings for her. But if he did, why was he not telling her?

  She knew her feelings for him were much more than she would admit. When he had called her “Lizzy,” she wanted to remain in his arms and relive the memories they had shared in St. Andrews.

  As much as she had tried to deny it, she now had to admit she was in love with the man. That realization did not bring her joy. What could be worse than unrequited love?

  She had arrived back at the house in time to ready herself for dinner. She had not seen Jane the entire day and did not wish her to worry. She squared her shoulders as she approached the dining salon.

  Of course, Elizabeth observed, Mr. Darcy was seated next to Miss Westcott as Lord and Lady Matlock again conspired to initiate a courtship between the two.

  “John, will you and your daughter be staying long at Pemberley?” asked Lady Matlock.

  “I’m afraid we leave for London the day after tomorrow,” said Lord Westcott. “We have been invited to St. James as Arielle is to be presented at Court.”

  “How exciting!” cried Lady Matlock. “Darcy, is that not exceptional?”

  “Indeed, it must be quite an honour, Miss Westcott,” replied Darcy. The young girl beamed and blushed.

  “Perhaps you could visit them in London, Darcy,” suggested Lady Matlock.

  “Perhaps,” he said. “But I have no immediate plans to travel there soon.”

  Caroline Bingley could not have been more pleased than to hear that Miss Westcott would soon be leaving Pemberley. Now if she could only find a way to rid herself of Miss Eliza as well.

  Darcy was relieved that Elizabeth had joined them for dinner. Since he had not seen her all day, he had been afraid that after their encounter last night, she was avoiding his company. He should have declared his intentions while he had had the chance. He should have told her then of his love for her.

  When he returned his attention back to the discourse at tonight’s dinner table, he found Elizabeth in discussion with Miss Westcott on the subject of Shakespeare. Though Miss Westcott endeavoured to further the conversation, her knowledge on the subject left much to be desired.

>   “Have you read many of his plays, Miss Bennet?” Darcy inquired

  She turned her head from Miss Westcott and looked directly at him. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. I have read them all.”

  “And which do you prefer, comedy or tragedy?”

  “While I admit a fondness for Much Ado About Nothing and As You Like It, I must confess I enjoy his tragedies more, sir,” she replied.

  He lifted his eyebrows as if to show his surprise at her answer. “And why is that, Miss Bennet?”

  “Do not his tragedies more accurately describe the reality of the world around us? To believe that happy endings are the way of the world is to be foolish and naïve.”

  “You do not have to convince me of your convictions, Miss Bennet, for I heartily agree. I, too, seem more drawn to the tragedies than the comedies. Art often imitates life. As in many of Shakespeare’s tragedies, often times unhappy endings are beyond our control.”

  “Perhaps, Mr. Darcy. But I believe most of Shakespeare’s tragic endings reveal an ironic twist of fate. A more agreeable outcome was almost always within command; however, the realization of that fact would inevitably come too late.”

  There was an uneasy silence that pervaded the room as they stared long and hard at each other.

  Was she trying to tell him something? Was she suggesting that they could have a happy ending if he just took command of the situation? Or was he just so desperate that he was reading his desires into her words.

  “Really, Miss Eliza, you do go on. She is much opinionated, is she not, Mr. Darcy?” said Caroline, attempting to take Mr. Darcy’s focus away from Elizabeth.

  Darcy turned and smiled at her. “She is merely conveying her point of view, Miss Bingley. I have found Miss Bennet can be quite persuasive in expressing her beliefs. I admit she has altered my opinion on several occasions.”

  Again they held each other’s gaze, as if they were trying to will each other to understand.

  “I, myself, would find life rather tedious debating the merits of every opinion that popped into my head, Mr. Darcy. I possess a much more agreeable disposition, sir,” cooed Caroline, displaying the demurest smile she could conjure.