Darcy and Diamonds

by Caitlin Marie Carrington

  She waved her hand at the small gold cross Elizabeth always wore. It had been a gift from her father when she had turned sixteen. Elizabeth tried not to care that, in fact, she owned no other jewelry of value. After Daniel had died, his relations were infuriated that he had left his small but profitable estate to his young wife. They had retaliated by taking all the jewels, a great deal of furniture, and even her store of candles!

  Mrs. Ashe had had to be held back from following their fleeing carriages, once she discovered the missing candles.

  “I’m sure we’ll either find it here, or once you return home, you’ll discover it safe and exactly where it ought to be,” Elizabeth said.

  Mrs. Graham proclaimed herself sufficiently comforted and called Mrs. Bennet and her daughters over to join them, just as Caroline swept past the footmen and into the room. She looked refreshed and her hair was once again upswept and perfect. Caroline’s eyes narrowed as she realized that Jane sat surrounded by her younger sisters and Mrs. Bennet.

  “Jane, darling, there you are,” she said, sniffing slightly as she also greeted Mrs. Bennet and the rest of the party. “What a pleasant dinner. The duck was cooked practically to perfection. It seems a simple task, but so many cooks cannot achieve it, especially outside of London.”

  “Thank you, Caroline. I’ll pass your compliments on to Mrs. Greyson,” Jane said.

  Elizabeth admired Jane’s composure, as she ignored Caroline’s petty insults and asked the women seated near her what they would like to do tomorrow morning.

  Caroline sat delicately on the only available seat, an upholstered chair across from the settee Elizabeth had claimed. “Mrs. Allerton, what a lovely gown.”

  Elizabeth forced herself to smile. She and Caroline had suffered through a number of family holidays and gatherings after Jane had wed Charles. Once Elizabeth had married, she’d not seen Caroline as often. And Caroline—who had married two years ago, to a man much, much older than she—was now barely present in Elizabeth’s life.

  Thank goodness.

  Be charitable, she told herself. After all, Caroline is making an effort. She just complimented my gown, and that has never happened before.

  “Thank you.”

  “Yes, the fabric is gorgeous. Did you borrow it from Jane? I can’t imagine you could afford such a delightful creation with your means.”

  Elizabeth stiffened. What in blazes did Caroline know about her life?

  Of course, in this particular instance, Caroline was correct. While her husband had left her a tidy sum and a house, his relatives had ensured that all other properties were not in Elizabeth’s possession. In truth, she lived very frugally. Though Elizabeth was comfortable, she would never have bought such a gown herself. It was an extravagance. And as she hoped to live many more years, she had to make her funds last. Especially if she did not marry again.

  Still, for Caroline to point it out…

  “Jane was kind enough to gift me the gown. My aunt and uncle had made it for her,” Elizabeth said. In response to Caroline’s blank look, she added, “The Gardiners.”

  Caroline had met Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner many times before, but the woman liked to pretend she moved in circles far superior to theirs, when in fact the Bingleys had made their fortune in trade. The hypocrisy rankled Elizabeth to no end.

  “Oh, yes. They live in Cheapside, do they not?” Caroline said coolly.

  “They have since moved.” Elizabeth would have said more—that they had moved to a lovely and larger home not far from Grosvenor Square. But she would not boast to Caroline, or try to change her mind. There was no changing Caroline Doughton.

  But what of Mr. Darcy? Might he have changed? some traitorous part of her mind asked.

  Caroline gave her a pitying smile. “Well, your dress is lovely. It is almost what one might find on Bond Street.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help herself. “Yes, the fabric was imported from Italy. Perhaps next season, you’ll be able to find it on Bond Street yourself.”

  Caroline stiffened, but before she could form a retort Jane spoke.

  “Caroline? Lizzy? We were just discussing tomorrow morning’s activities. I know the gentlemen plan to go shooting, but do you have any preferences?”

  Caroline’s green eyes met Elizabeth’s briefly, but then she looked back at Jane. “I rather think I’ll join the gentlemen.”

  The other women expressed admiration of her brave choice, and Caroline smiled tightly as Mrs. Bennet gave a small soliloquy on the absolute perfection of Netherfield’s grouse shooting, and how grouse truly are the king of gamebirds.

  “What about you, Lizzy?” said Mrs. Graham.

  “I do not think I shall joining the shooting party,” Elizabeth said. “Though a ride in the early morning sounds divine. After that, I will be happy to attend to any activity you ladies desire.”

  “A ride? Since when does little Lizzy ride?” Mrs. Graham asked, incredulous. “Why, as a girl you were terrified of horses. You called them ‘beasts.’ I’ll always remember your fierce dislike of them.”

  Jane laughed. “Lizzy didn’t dislike the horses themselves, Mrs. Graham.”

  “No, it was rather the act of falling off the horses that I detested,” Elizabeth said. “I had that bad fall around age ten, wasn’t it, Mama? But my husband was determined to teach me to ride and he did succeed.”

  The image of Mr. Darcy, racing across the field this morning, came to her.

  “I can’t say I am as free and bold as many riders,” she whispered, “but I can at least mount one of those great ‘beasts’ and have it do my bidding for a time.”

  Lydia cackled and whispered something to Kitty.

  “What did you say, Lydia dear?” asked Mrs. Bennet, always eager to join her younger daughters in their jokes.

  “Nothing, Mama,” Kitty said, elbowing Lydia as if she were still seventeen and not four-and-twenty.

  “She said she has a great beast who will do her bidding for a time—as does Mary, now!” Lydia cackled, pointing across the room at their newly married sister.

  “Oh, girls!” Mrs. Bennet shook her head but could not keep from laughing loudly behind her barely raised hand.

  Elizabeth felt herself blush slightly as Caroline coolly surveyed her mother and sisters. The woman’s displeasure—and judgement—was clear. But what right does Caroline have to judge us? Especially when she herself was caught in a compromising position by myself, a mere two hours ago?

  “Ah, to be young and speak of husbands,” said Mrs. Graham, trying to calm Mrs. Bennet’s laughter—and relieve Jane, who was blushing with embarrassment.

  “Speaking of husbands, is Mr. Doughton to join us tomorrow?” Elizabeth said, forcing Caroline’s attention away from Lizzy’s still-sniggling sisters.

  Caroline’s glinting green eyes focused on Elizabeth. “No, alas. My esteemed husband will remain in London.” She did not look displeased at the thought.

  “I am sure you will miss him terribly?” Mrs. Graham said, though Lizzy noted the older woman did not look sure of this matter at all.

  “Of course,” Caroline said evenly. “But Mr. Doughton is now two-and-sixty. Traveling does his knees no good. And, of course, as a cultured man he prefers Town. The country life—even at the home of a most beloved brother and sister—cannot compare to the city, in terms of Society and entertainments. But do not worry, Jane dear. I am so happy to be here. I would go without all the finest amusements, in order to spend time with my dear brother and sister.”

  Jane smiled warmly. “And the children are so happy to see you, as well.”

  “Yes, of course. And I them,” Caroline said, looking down suddenly and smoothing her skirts. “And what a surprise that Mr. Darcy should be here! I see his sister in Town, but he does not visit London as often as a man of his stature should.”

  “I am not surprised,” Mrs. Bennet said venomously. “I remember meeting him from years ago. I don’t care if he has ten thousand a year. He refused to dance with my Lizzy
, and we all know he’s a proud sort of—”

  “Mama,” Elizabeth interrupted, refusing to look toward Caroline. “We did not know Mr. Darcy well them, nor do we now. We cannot judge his character. And we all change, as the years go on.”

  A low, husky laugh drew Elizabeth’s gaze. Caroline tilted her head, speaking casually to the ceiling, as if the entire group were truly beneath her notice. “At least you can admit your ignorance, Mrs. Allerton. Men of such impeccable character—men like Mr. Darcy—do not change. Nor should they. How could Mr. Darcy improve upon himself, when he was born into the highest society? As for your claims, Mrs. Bennet they are so outside the bounds of propensity and truth that I simply do not know how to proceed to correct you.”

  Mrs. Bennet stared blankly at Caroline for a moment, then turned to Jane and said, “It just occurred to me: is he married? Because even if he does not dance, now that Lizzy needs a husband—”

  Jane’s cheeks turned bright pink and Kitty and Lydia burst into laughter. Even Mary, from across the room, turned from her friends and asked, “Whatever is so amusing?”

  “Nothing,” Elizabeth and Jane snapped.

  And though earlier tonight she had not wanted to see Mr. Darcy again, Elizabeth turned in desperation to Jane. “It is getting late, is it not? Perhaps the gentlemen are ready to rejoin our party?”

  “Yes,” Jane said, rising. “That is a splendid idea.”

  Mrs. Graham helpfully requested that Mrs. Bennet assist her in a walk around the room. Jane went to speak to the footmen, and Elizabeth was about to stand when Caroline said, “I would speak with you, Mrs. Allerton, about what you witnessed this evening.”

  Elizabeth had begun to rise but slowly returned to her seat. “I am sure I witnessed nothing.”

  “How sweet,” Caroline replied. “You act as if you didn’t catch Mr. Darcy and myself, alone together.”

  “I am sure it is none of my affair and was entirely innocent.”

  Caroline leaned forward, a hard glint in her green eyes. “Actually, it was quite scandalous. Let me tell you all about it.”

  9

  Elizabeth

  Elizabeth was not naive. She knew men and women of the Ton were no paragons of virtue. She herself, as a young widow, had been propositioned on three occasions. She’d barely understood the first time it had happened, at a house party in London. The second time she’d cut the gentleman down before he’d even had a chance to finish speaking.

  But the third time…

  The third time a gentleman had offered an “arrangement,” she’d hesitated. It had been two years since her husband had died, and the gentleman had been a passing acquaintance she’d always liked. His name was Arthur McMurray and he was a cousin to her darling neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Crandle. She’d met him on quite a few occasions over the years, and he’d always been sensible, well-read, with a humor so dry and fine it always took her by surprise.

  He was about her age, had never married, and was quite pleasant to look at.

  It had been Christmas Day and she’d spent the afternoon and evening with the Crandles. By nightfall, everyone was exhausted and happy and most of them in their cups, truth be told. The snow had fallen heavily outside and Mrs. Crandle had convinced Lizzy to stay the night. Elizabeth and Arthur had ended up, alone, in front of a well-stoked fireplace. They’d talked into the night and he’d opened up about his lost love—a woman who’d married her father’s choice of a husband, a man with more money and land than he.

  It had been the first time Elizabeth had admitted, out loud, that she was lonely.

  And Arthur had placed his hand on her knee—yes, over her dress. And also over the thick blanket that had covered her skirts. But she had felt the pleasant, heavy heat of his grasp. And she had looked up into his earnest, kind brown eyes. They had a trace of sadness in them, from talking about his lady love.

  “We’re both adults, you know,” he’d said. “And free. And I admire you, Lizzy. I admire you endlessly, and you have to know you’re a beautiful woman.”

  She had been tempted.

  She could have gone to his rooms that night. Or even invited him to her home the next day. She even could have hidden his visit from her housekeeper Mrs. Ashe.

  But she hadn’t.

  Why? Sometimes, she still regretted that. She missed sleeping next to someone. The sheets could be so cold in winter.

  “You wish to tell me…all about it?” Elizabeth said, trying not to let her mouth drop open like a caught fish.

  “I feel it is my duty as one of the weaker sex, to assist those of my kind,” Caroline said with a cold smile.

  “You do?”

  “I know why you’re wearing that dress, Mrs. Allerton. It sets off your features quite well. I was in your situation not long ago, before I married my dear Mr. Doughton.”

  “I do not take your meaning,” Elizabeth said stiffly.

  Caroline laughed as if Elizabeth were an amusing child. “Oh, do not look so scared, Mrs. Allerton. I won’t tell your secret. I understand. You are not exposed to much society when you are at home at—what is it called?—Steadly House?”

  It was Steadham House and Caroline well knew it. Don’t correct her. She wants to rile you, Elizabeth reminded herself. Across the room, the doors opened and the gentlemen began to enter. Charles greeted Jane and the ladies near the door began talking animatedly with the new arrivals.

  “I believe the gentlemen are here,” Elizabeth said, hoping Caroline would go greet them.

  “Ah, then I shall whisper,” she said dramatically, leaning forward. “I am sure this house party is one of your only chances to meet potential suitors. And so, as you search for a husband, please know from the bottom of my heart, that you look lovely. Especially for a woman of seven-and-twenty who’s quite on the shelf.”

  Don’t hit her with a pillow. Don’t imagine the satisfaction it might bring…

  “Now don’t look so outraged,” Caroline said glibly. “I am speaking plainly, and you’ve always valued that, haven’t you?”

  “I have,” Elizabeth said through gritted teeth.

  “Well then. We both know that although you married surprisingly well, but with your husband gone and the bulk of his estate given to his nephew, you are limited in your resources.”

  “I cannot see how—”

  “Do not get so red in the cheeks, darling! I am not insulting you. I am not telling you anything you do not know, as you are so clever. Your Mr. Allerton was kind enough to ensure you had a house and a living, and I am sure the dowry rights are keeping you fed and with at least one maid in your employ.”

  “I cannot think that any of this is your business,” Elizabeth said, shaking with anger and surprise. And she employed three maids as well as her housekeeper!

  “But we all know your own dowry cannot amount to much.” Caroline continued on calmly, as if Elizabeth had never spoken. “So I assumed—forgive me, for I am not so terribly intelligent as you—but I had imagined that a woman with adequate yet modest means might once again look for a husband. Your looks, after all, have not completely faded.”

  Please God, give me the strength to not hit her upside the head with my reticule, Elizabeth prayed.

  But all Elizabeth said was, “I cannot imagine the purpose of this discussion.”

  “Why, I am trying to be a friend to you!” Caroline said. “A sister, really. Your sister is married to my brother. We are family, after all. I wanted to warn you that, if you had imagined marrying again, Mr. Darcy should not be—should never be—the object of all your hopes.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. Caroline was like a snake, and Elizabeth suddenly felt that the woman had cleverly wrapped her words around and around Elizabeth’s middle, until she could no longer breathe. “I have pinned no hopes on Mr. Darcy. Or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Oh, good! I am relieved.” Caroline leaned forward. “Because Mr. Darcy will never marry you.”

  Elizabeth could not stop herself. “And how
do you know that?”

  A wide, cruel smile spread across Caroline’s gaunt face. “Why, because he told me so himself. He intends to leave Pemberley to his heirs, as he is certain his dear young sister will marry again. But as for himself, he is quite content with…certain friendships. With certain women.”

  “And you are one of those women?” Elizabeth said as coldly and smoothly as she could, though her insides were roiling. “Despite your happy marriage?”

  Caroline shrugged prettily and sat back in her chair. “I would not be so vulgar as to say.”

  Elizabeth swallowed, angry that she was so unsettled. She should walk away now. And yet she could not help but ask, “And what of your husband? Does Mr. Doughton know of your special friendship with Mr. Darcy?”

  “Mr. Doughton is two-and-sixty and needs an heir. He lets his adored wife do as she must.”

  Elizabeth sat back, her hand over her mouth. She was shaking. Certainly Caroline could not be telling the truth. Caroline would not confide such things to Elizabeth—they were not, and they never would be, friends!

  Caroline leaned forward, a cold, calculating look in her eyes. “Oh dear. I’ve shocked you, Eliza! I did not realize you were such an ingénue. I wouldn’t have mentioned it at all, except that I didn’t want you developing a tendre for a man who would not return your affections. Don’t look so stupid. We both know Mr. Darcy held you in somewhat high esteem when you first met, years ago. But—and I mean no disrespect to my brother—a Darcy would never propose to a Bennet. He wouldn’t then, and he will not now.”

  Elizabeth gasped. So Caroline did not know what had transpired years ago.

  “Oh, perhaps if you were more worldly, he might see you in a certain way. Offer you a certain…arrangement. But even then,” Caroline perused Elizabeth’s person, her eyes traveling dismissively from the top of her hair to the tips of her shoes. “I honestly doubt you would have much to offer him.”

  Elizabeth laughed. The absurdity of it all was too much. And so was the desire to quash that gloating, triumphant look in Caroline’s eyes. How Lizzy longed to stand and grandly declare that, in fact, Mr. Darcy had offered for her—and that she, little Lizzy Bennet, had turned him down!