She turned to the footman. “Matthew, pray notify Mrs. Grigg that the dining room is empty and can be cleared and cleaned.”
“Yes, ma’am.” After a quick bow, he hurried from the room.
The gentlemen were likely to be a while, so she departed to the music room. Taking a seat at the pianoforte, she adjusted the music sheet of Bach to practise. She preferred the progression of this particular work to exercise her fingers before she began to play other composers. The Darcys might depart directly after their brandy, but if they remained, it would not hurt to be prepared since she might be expected to perform.
Once she finished the piece by Bach, she began to play a sonata by Scarlatti until the air weighed upon her in the most unusual manner. What caused that slight prickling to the back of her neck? As soon as she concluded the last measure, a glance towards the door revealed the younger Darcy staring in her direction.
Fitzwilliam stood and straightened his topcoat. “I believe now is when I entertain myself for a time while the two of you talk.”
George Darcy laughed along with his cousin. “You have always been so generous as to allow us privacy when we are together, and I do wish to speak to Thomas alone. Thank you.” Darcy watched Fitzwilliam as he headed towards the door.
“I am certain there is a book in the library to tempt me,” said Fitzwilliam as he placed his hand on the door latch. Once Darcy ensured his son had closed the door, he turned to face the cousin he had known since infancy. “So, what possessed you, of all people, to marry?”
Thomas groaned and leaned back in his chair. “I knew this conversation would be a necessity, but I have not anticipated it.”
“You knew I would wonder at your motivation,” he said. “There is no possibility of you having any interest in this young lady, much less any other woman, so I know another reason must exist.”
“Have you not heard of James’s latest exploits?”
Thomas’s nephew and heir, James Osborne, always insinuated himself into some sort of mischief, but what his cousin alluded to this time, Darcy had no idea. “I hear of many escapades that include your wayward relation, but I am uncertain of which scandal you refer to at the moment.”
Thomas’s fist slammed onto his desk. “And that is the problem! He gambles incessantly; the rumours of his frequent visits to brothels in the seedier parts of London are daily fodder for society. Not only will no respectable lady marry him, but he will ruin Worthstone and destroy everything I have worked so hard to build and maintain.”
Darcy stood and stepped towards the fireplace, fingering a figurine upon the stone mantel. “I do not see this as a revelation, Thomas. Why, after all these years, would James suddenly prompt you to marry?”
“Do you not see?” The tone of his voice rose dramatically. “I can leave the properties not associated with the dukedom to Fitzwilliam, but what of those tied to my title? I cannot allow them to be ruined. You must see that I require an heir.”
Darcy gave a bark of laughter. He could not be serious? “You, an heir? May I ask how you hope to accomplish that?” He leaned slightly forward and tipped his glass in his cousin’s direction. “You tried to bed a woman once when we were at Cambridge. I took you to . . .”
“Yes, yes, I remember. I see no reason to rehash that humiliation.” The duke propped his elbows on his desk, rubbing his face tiredly. “You are well aware my predilection lies outside of the female sex.” He spoke in a soft tone and with a weary voice. “I have never made any secret of that with you, and despite my differences, you have remained my most trusted friend.”
Darcy took a sip of brandy and shook his head. “Some young woman is married off each season under suspicious circumstances or some widow becomes with child and creates a scandal, yet you removed this girl from her family and friends. I do not understand why.” In frustration, he scrubbed his hand across his forehead. “You have been married for months. She does not yet appear in the family way.”
Thomas grimaced and straightened, gripping his hands into fists. “I will not pass off some groomsman or piano master’s bastard child as my own.” His lips sneered as he spoke, and his tone dripped with contempt. “I might be married to nearly any make of simpleton if I employed such a scheme.”
“Yet somehow you thought Elizabeth would beget your heir?”
Thomas rose and poured himself another snifter of brandy. “I was in Hertfordshire when I received a missive detailing James’s latest loss. Are you aware that he has run up a debt of fifty thousand pounds—fifty thousand! People continue to extend him credit because he is my heir. Let us not even discuss the duel he had with Viscount Grantley over that liaison with the viscountess. Thank goodness Grantley only received a flesh wound. God forgive me, but a part of me prayed James would lose.”
He rose and stared through the window at the foggy street below. “I met Elizabeth at an assembly. I had not planned on attending, but I did not want to seem as though I was snubbing my neighbours.” He exhaled heavily and returned to his seat. “Her mother, not the wittiest of women, pushed her oldest daughter in my direction—an exceptionally pretty girl, but too placid.
“I was not intrigued by Elizabeth until a few days later. While in the local bookshop, I overheard her and her father having a discussion. He was searching for a book on the latest farming techniques, which she knew well. From that moment, a plan formed.”
Darcy sipped his brandy and sighed. “The problem remaining, Thomas, is that she is not with child, and one is needed for your plan to succeed.”
His childhood confidante turned his eyes upon him with a glint Darcy did not recognise. “I hoped you would assist me with that minor detail.”
George Darcy stared at his cousin. What had he said? He took two decided steps forward, put his hands upon the desk, and leaned forward. “Pardon?”
Thomas looked him directly in the eyes. “I hoped you would seduce Elizabeth and father my heir.”
Dear Lord! He could not be serious! Why would Thomas believe him capable of such a deception? “Your scheme is for me to seduce your wife?”
“Yes.” He dipped his chin, as though his affirmation required more emphasis. “I have never been much of an Osborne but more of a Darcy—even my father lamented that fact. We favour one another. Just think, a Darcy would be the heir of the Leeds dukedom.”
“You are mad.” Darcy raked his hand through his curly hair. “You know I have not touched a woman since Anne passed from this world. Our vows may have been ‘until death us do part,’ but I still feel unfaithful to even consider the notion. And that is just one reason. Elizabeth remains a child.”
Thomas scoffed and waved off his statement. “She is seventeen.”
“She is close to five years older than Georgiana. I know gentlemen sometimes marry wives who are significantly younger, but I cannot bed what I consider to be nothing more than a slip of a girl.” He began pacing once more. “Also, what happens after she carries your ‘heir?’ You obviously have not considered her feelings. She is young and might form an attachment to whoever beds her, leaving a tremendous risk for a prolonged affair. If that man were me, I would be forced to break her heart.” Abruptly, he halted and levelled his cousin with a hard look. “You must also consider that she might reject the idea of being seduced.”
Darcy paused to take a deep breath, he turned, and stared at the portrait of his aunt, Amelia Darcy Osborne, over the mantle. He had to calm himself. An angry discussion would achieve naught but wounded feelings.
Would Elizabeth be amenable to such a scheme? His first impressions indicated she would not. She behaved in a friendly and approachable manner, yet she remained well within the bounds of decorum—unlike other wives and widows within their society.
He pivoted back to Thomas, his voice more tempered. “In fact, I feel it a distinct possibility she would refuse. You also know I would never take any woman by force—ever. There is also the matter of the sex of the child, which is something you are well aware cannot be cont
rolled. What if the child were a girl?”
“A daughter may not inherit the dukedom, but she could inherit all of my holdings but Cantwell Park and Worthstone, the only properties entailed to the title. As it is, I have already made Fitzwilliam the heir of every property I can.”
Darcy could not prevent the glare he aimed at his cousin. “This was a foolhardy and selfish scheme you concocted. The only person you considered was yourself.”
“I did try,” Thomas said weakly.
“You tried? I do not understand your meaning.”
“I went to her on our wedding night.” Thomas’s face was a brilliant red, and he would not maintain eye contact. “I attempted to hold her close. I kissed her cheek.” He shook his head adamantly. “It was wrong—all wrong. She did not feel right in my arms. Her smell was not appealing in the slightest. It would not work.”
“Of course, she would feel odd in your arms. She is not a man!” Darcy said in a hiss. “The poor girl!”
“What do you mean poor?” Thomas’s volume increased and his tone hardened.
Darcy held out his palms to face his childhood confidante. “You marry her, take her to a strange place, and thrust her into a society that does not want to accept her. Rumours abound of her relations in trade, which are spreading like a pestilence through the city. Carlisle told me yesterday of a gentleman at St. James Court who bragged he knew well the new Duchess of Leeds. He was all too pleased to speak of his knowledge.”
“Sir William Lucas.” Thomas dropped his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. “He means no harm, yet he is not the most intelligent or intuitive of men and will ramble on without any regard for what he says.” His cousin’s voice still contained a trace of anger. “Her uncle and aunt are fashionable people. I would prefer to be in their company than nearly all of the peerage.”
Darcy shook his head. “You have brought her into all of this for a purpose. You have stolen from her the chance to marry a man she loves and have children—for what? Is she to be your companion? Or do you leave her to her own devices every evening after dinner, so you can keep company with Colin in your rooms?”
His cousin’s face reddened, which answered his question without speaking. “Good Lord! You do! I always said it was convenient to employ your lover as your valet. She has no idea, does she?”
“I do understand your reluctance to help me, but what of Fitzwilliam? He is young and young men are often in and out of love.” Was he holding his breath?
Darcy leaned back over Thomas’s desk, close to his cousin’s face. “Over my dead body. You will not so much as hint of the possibility. Do you understand me?” He pointed his finger in his cousin’s face yet kept his voice moderated. They could not be heard outside of this room. “I shall not have him in love with a woman he could never have. He does not deserve such torment.”
Thomas nodded and leaned back in his seat. “I apologise for asking this of you. I was mistaken. I hope you will still come for Easter. I truly believe Georgiana and Elizabeth could be great friends.”
“We shall come.” Darcy took a long gulp of his brandy. Perhaps it might alleviate some of that tightness in his throat. “I could not deprive Elizabeth of some shred of happiness in this life you have deceived her into.”
Thomas rubbed his face. “Forgive me. I had no intention of offending you.”
“I do realise that. Unfortunately, the person you should apologise to is your wife.”
Thomas glanced up sharply.
“What did Colin make of this plan when you proposed it? You discuss all with him. You would not marry without asking his opinion.”
His cousin winced. “He predicted your precise response, but agreed to support me should I try. He heard much good of Elizabeth during our stay in Hertfordshire. He did not wish to see her misled.”
“You should heed his counsel more often.”
After taking a drink from his brandy, Thomas swirled the contents of the glass, watching the liquid as it clung to the sides. “As you have said many times.” He rested the glass on the table and held Darcy’s eye. “I treasure your continued friendship. Despite who I am, you have kept my secret and remained my confidante. Many would not.”
Exhaling heavily, Darcy sat and pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the headache attempting to take a firm hold. “I have no claim to being perfect.” He dropped his hand back to his lap. “You are more my brother than a cousin. I could never bring myself to judge you or cast you aside. My heart would never allow it.”
“You are the best of men, Darcy. I have always believed that.”
“Yet, you expected me to behave with a callous disregard for Elizabeth’s feelings.”
Elizabeth was a lovely young woman, her physical beauty enhanced by her intelligence and open nature. She was easy to admire and like, yet she lived in this appalling situation through no fault of her own.
Thomas shifted and drew his attention. “I apologise. I hope we can get past this. I do not wish it to alter our friendship.”
“Perhaps by the time we arrive at Worthstone, I shall find the ability to behave as though this never happened, but your expectations of me in this matter are something that I . . . I cannot. I do accept your apology. I only require time.” Darcy rose from his seat. “I shall give no hint of our conversation after we leave this room.”
His cousin stood and walked around the desk, stopping a few steps away from him. “You had to have suspected some scheme resulted in my marriage, yet you never gave any indication of it. Thank you.”
Nodding, Darcy gestured towards the door. “Perhaps we should join Fitzwilliam. I believe we have left him to his own devices for long enough.”
Elizabeth paused before she began the next piece. The younger Darcy stood just inside the room where he watched her intently. Why did he stare at her so?
“Are my husband and Mr. Darcy joining us?”
He startled from his reverie and shook his head. “I generally give my father and godfather some time alone when we visit. They have been friends for so many years. They share confidences they, no doubt, wish to discuss. My presence is welcomed, but I always provide them with some privacy.”
Smiling, she stood and stepped around the pianoforte. “That is kind of you. I am certain they appreciate your consideration.” He shrugged and glanced around the room. He was quite handsome, though something about how he watched her made it difficult to return his gaze.
“I shall ring for tea.” After she pulled the bell, Elizabeth sat on the sofa, motioning to an armchair. “Will you not sit?”
“Yes, thank you,” he said stiffly. After he took the seat, he glanced at the instrument in the corner. “You play very well.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. Was he always so ill at ease? “I do not practise as I should. I understand from my husband that your sister is accomplished for her age.”
“She is. My father has often brought her to town for the benefit of the masters, but one rarely finds her away from the pianoforte.” Fitzwilliam glanced down to her hands and fidgeted a bit in his seat. “You should not discount your ability. You have a wonderful sense of expression my sister has yet to learn.”
With a slight smile, she arched her eyebrow. “Youth is certainly her excuse. She will without a doubt develop more emotion in her music as she grows older and experiences more of life.”
His eyebrows rose with another look at the pianoforte. “I had not thought of it in that manner.”
He rarely held her eye for long, but when his crystal blue eyes grasped hers and refused to let go, her insides fluttered with nerves. Lord, the complaint sounded akin to one her mother might bemoan.
“My younger sister, Mary, enjoys playing the pianoforte and singing, but she has yet to perform with emotion.”
“Does she play as well as you?”
Her cheeks warmed, and she bit her lip. “Mary practises diligently, though she does play with a pedantic style. Unfortunately, I do not believe
any amount of practice can benefit her singing.”
He barked out a laugh, and she smiled widely. He had such lovely dimples. His handsome countenance could not be denied. That irritating fluttering increased, making her look down at her hands in her lap.
“I love her dearly, but I hope she does not aspire to perform vocally when she comes out.”
His low laughter continued. Hopefully, she had not said too much!
She bit her lip again as she struggled to meet his eye. “I hope you do not find me too dreadful for making such an uncharitable confession.”
“Not at all,” he said as his laugh subsided. “You surprised me. I had not anticipated you to be so . . . well, honest.”
A maid bustled through the door and set a tea tray before her. Elizabeth set to work, preparing and pouring him a cup. “How do you take your tea?”
Once she had handed him his cup, he thanked her, and she sat back with her own, concentrating on the spoon as it swirled in the liquid.
“I understand you hail from Derbyshire like my husband?”
“I do. I believe you spent some time there before you travelled to London?”
She finally put the spoon on the saucer, taking a sip before nodding. “Yes, I found the peaks near Worthstone beautiful.”
“I am rather partial towards them. I shall always prefer the peaks to other parts of the world.”
She tilted her head as she studied the warm expression on his countenance. “I have no difficulty believing your declaration. It is your home.”
“My godfather always travels to Pemberley and remains with us for a month complete during the summer. You will see more then to convince you Derbyshire is the most picturesque of places.”
She beamed with pleasure as she sat forward. “He has not mentioned a trip to Pemberley. My aunt is from a small town called Lambton, which I believe is near Pemberley. She describes her home with such love. I have always wished to see it.”
“Your aunt is from Lambton?” His voice filled with wonder. “Why, that is but five miles from Pemberley. We should be happy to escort you to the village so you can see it for yourself.”
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