A Dash of Darcy Companions Duo 2

by Leenie Brown

  “One sister. She is two years older than I.”

  “Is she married?”

  “Yes, for several years now. Her husband is also a landowner, and they have two boys and a third child on the way,” he answered, supplying the information he figured she would ask next, so that perhaps he would have a moment to chew and swallow a morsel of food between questions.

  “That is very good. One should always attempt to have more than one child. Unfortunately, it is not always possible.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Mr. Collins. “The good Lord blesses as He sees fit. Miss de Bourgh is such a fine young lady.”

  Lady Catherine cast a quick smile of approval in his direction before taking a sip of her wine and continuing her inquisition of her new acquaintance. “You are not yet married?”

  “No,” Conrad replied.

  “My daughter is betrothed,” Lady Catherine’s look and words held a hint of warning.

  Conrad looked down the table to where Miss de Bourgh sat, a forkful of food suspended before her mouth and her eyes wide. He smiled and, turning back to her mother, said, “So she has told me.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Miss de Bourgh had continued eating and was looking pleased with his response. There were definitely secrets that the young lady was keeping from her mother.

  “She has been betrothed for many years,” Lady Catherine continued. “He is her cousin and of very good standing.”

  “For years?” Conrad repeated. “Is there something wrong with the gentleman that he has not claimed his bride? Does he have an aversion to the marital state?” He bit the side of his mouth as he saw Miss de Bourgh’s fork stop in mid-air once again.

  “There is nothing wrong with Darcy. Anne has simply not been ready to marry. She is only nineteen.”

  “Nineteen is not an uncommon age to marry. In fact, my sister married at eighteen,” said Conrad. “I should think that any man who was betrothed to your fair daughter would be tripping over his feet in eagerness to have such a lovely wife.” He took a bite of his pheasant and enjoyed watching Lady Catherine’s features change from affronted to pleased.

  “It is best not to rush into marriage,” added Mr. Collins.

  “I agree,” said Conrad.

  “There is much to consider when selecting a bride,” Mr. Collins continued. “There is first and foremost her virtue. A wife must be a virtuous woman, circumspect in all things.”

  “Yes,” Lady Catherine interrupted her parson. “There is much to consider, and you made a very wise choice. Mrs. Collins is everything someone of her position should be. And my Anne will be precisely what she is to be ─ the mistress of Pemberley.”

  Again, Conrad glanced down the table to Anne and smiled. “I am certain she shall be.”

  “My daughter tells me that you are friends with Mr. Pratt.”

  Conrad took his time chewing and swallowing the vegetables he had placed in his mouth just as Lady Catherine had asked her question. “I am,” he answered simply.

  “Lady Metcalfe is my particular friend.”

  “Yes, your daughter mentioned that to me. It is such a pleasure to share such a connection, your being Lady Metcalfe’s friend and my being the friend of her son. I am sorry that Alistair is not here but in Warwickshire. It would have been much more enjoyable to call on a friend while about my business.”

  “And what business brings you to Kent?” Mrs. Collins asked.

  “I am here to see about a filly. I have seen her and am considering if I shall take her or not. She has good breeding and should make a fine mare. I think I have set my mind on the purchase but did not wish to act with undue haste.”

  “That is wise,” said Mr. Collins. “Thinking. Thinking should be done before any decision is made. I trust you will be happy with your new acquisition.”

  As he answered, Conrad could not help but allow his eyes to wander down the table once more to where the filly he was considering sat. “I am certain I will be.”

  Chapter 6

  Anne waited anxiously for the groom to make her phaeton ready. He had been a bit surprised that she requested it so early but not so shocked as to ask a great deal of questions. That was partly due, she supposed, to the fact that each morning for the past week, she had taken her morning drive earlier and earlier. She smiled and smoothed the covering of the basket she carried. Each day, she had taken this basket with her. The grooms thought it contained her breakfast and a book. She had insisted that a picnic first thing in the morning was just the thing. And, in fact, the basket had always contained her breakfast, but it had also contained some portion of the things she would need for travelling. She would not be able to take many things, but then Mr. Conrad had assured her that he would also gather a few things in town to add to her collection. It had not been too challenging to gain his assistance. There was a side of Mr. Conrad that seemed to enjoy an adventure as much as Anne did. He and his friend were very different in that respect. Alistair was more cautious.

  “All is ready, miss. May I tie your basket on the back?”

  “No,” Anne replied with a shake of her head. “I prefer it to be on the floor near my feet. However, a blanket would be nice. I find the air a bit crisp this morning, and the dew is heavy. I should hate to sit on the ground and soil my dress.”

  The groom scurried off to retrieve a blanket while Anne stashed her basket and climbed into the phaeton unassisted. She had worn two dresses again today and did not wish for a groom to discover such information when helping her into the carriage. She needed all to proceed smoothly without anyone cottoning on to her plan.

  “Thank you very much,” she said as the groom tucked a blanket in next to her basket. Then, with a wave and a walk on, she was on her way. First, she would stop at the tree where she and Alistair always met. Her things were waiting for her there in a small trunk. She giggled to herself at how she had been able to convince Mr. Conrad to leave that trunk for her.

  Then, after collecting her trunk, she would continue on to the inn at Bromley, where a proper carriage and Mr. Conrad waited to take her to Warwickshire.

  And just as promised, Conrad was eagerly awaiting Miss de Bourgh’s arrival at the inn in Bromley, and after a time of refreshment and tea, they began their journey just as a message was being delivered to Mr. Pratt in Warwickshire.

  ~*~*~

  Alistair took the letter from the tray and broke the seal as he walked to the far end of the drawing room where everyone was gathered to hear about today’s activities. He hoped that by some stroke of luck this missive would call him away from the planned picnic near the folly. Two young ladies, Miss Hewitt and Miss Northrup, had decided he would be an excellent prize, and no matter how he tried to dissuade them, they would not leave him be. In fact, their attentions had only increased with each attempt at discouragement, and each one seemed willing to do the other harm in order to be the lady who successfully snared him.

  Anne’s plan of escape was seeming a welcome idea at present. In fact, he would write to her later today with instructions about where to meet him. Perhaps he could slip away a day or so early and be waiting for her away from these scheming debutantes and their chaperones, who, in Alistair’s opinion, seemed to be extremely inattentive to the way their charges’ appeared to skirt the edge of propriety. House parties were a bane to the happy existence of a bachelor who did not wish to be trapped.

  “Who is it from?” Jack asked, coming to peek over Alistair’s shoulder.

  “Perhaps if you would allow me to read it, I might be able to tell you,” Alistair replied as he unfolded the sheet of paper.

  Pratt,

  I have made a lovely new acquaintance when I travelled to Kent. It is no wonder you have been keeping her a secret from the rest of us. Miss de Bourgh is a pretty thing ─ and so lively! We have become good friends in a very short time. As you read this, know that I am bringing her to you. We will be alone on the road for two days. I will allow her, of course, to choose who she prefe
rs when we arrive at Stanton’s. That is if you still want her in the state in which I plan to deliver her to you. Or perhaps, if I find her to my liking, we shall continue on to Scotland ourselves without stopping in Warwickshire.

  An eye for an eye, an heiress for an heiress, is that not how it goes?

  C.C.

  “That blackguard,” Alistair spat as he crushed the letter in his hand.

  “Who?” Jack asked.

  “Conrad,” Alistair said, pressing the wadded up paper against Jack’s chest as he turned to leave. “I will be gone within the hour.” He would be gone sooner if he could manage it. He had been so certain when leaving White’s with Jack that Conrad had not heard Anne’s name.

  His legs propelled him through the drawing room, up the grand staircase, and all the way to his bedchamber before they began to waver. When had that letter been written? How long had they been on the road? Would they arrive after he had left? So many questions raced through his mind, spinning and chasing after each other as he tossed his bag on the bed and began stuffing his things inside it.

  Two questions kept attempting to push their way to the fore, and although Alistair tried not to entertain them for more than a brief moment, they soon drowned out all the others and would not be ignored. He dropped onto the edge of the bed and answered them. He would marry her even if she was ruined as long as she would still have him.

  Despite his answer, the question of Anne still having him would not be silenced. She had accepted him, he reasoned. She would still accept him, would she not? Surely Conrad was not so silver-tongued as to have convinced Anne that she could do better than Alistair, was he? She would not believe that Conrad was the better choice, would she? But if Conrad had seduced her, would she feel bound to the scoundrel do to the possible consequences of their intimacies?

  Alistair closed his eyes and swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of Anne in the arms and bed of another. However, swallowing did not have the desired effect. Such revulsion could not be repressed, and Alistair rushed around the bed, grabbing the chamber pot just as the contents of his stomach made a reappearance.

  “Come,” he called between wretches. One more heave and he was able to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “I am going with you,” Jack said as he handed his friend a towel to dry his mouth. “You might need a second.”

  Alistair accepted the glass of water Jack had poured for him, sipping a bit and spitting it into the chamber pot before taking a swallow and hoping to retain it within his quivering innards.

  Jack took a place on the bed next to his friend. “I do not know your Anne,” he began, “but if you love her, she must be intelligent enough to see through Conrad’s lies. Perhaps not at first — I will allow you that worry — but he is not a good liar. You know this. How many times has he lost at the tables in White’s because he becomes confident in his ability to win? He has his tells. She’ll not fall for him.”

  Alistair wished with all his heart that what Jack was saying was true, but he could not wholly accept it. “She is so trusting,” he whispered. A sad smile tipped the corners of his mouth as he thought about how her eyes would grow large with amazement at the stories he would tell about the soirees he had attended in London. “She has never had a season. She knows little of the dark and dangerous underbelly of the ton where the vipers and riffraff meet to plot the downfall of innocents.”

  “From what you have told me, your Anne is not without the ability to scheme herself. She might not see him for what he is at first, but she will see the truth.”

  “But before he has ruined her?”

  “That I cannot promise,” Jack said grimly. “However, you can run him through if he has. He is terrible with a sword.” Jack had left his seat next to Alistair and was packing Alistair’s bags. “I’ve set my man on getting my things ready and have sent for yours to see to it that the carriage is ready. I figured there was no need for him to come in here and see the mess you were making of his work.” He looked up from his work of smoothing a jacket in Alistair’s trunk. “Do we head toward London or Scotland? That letter sounded very self-assured.”

  Alistair nodded his understanding. “And that self-assuredness is his tell that he will become careless,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Indubitably,” Jack replied. “So London?”

  Again Alistair nodded. “I do not think him smart enough to send the letter after they had left Kent. Do you have it? We could check the postmark.”

  Jack grinned. “I already have, and you are correct, as always.” He looked at the empty wardrobe and then at Alistair. “Is there anything else, sir?”

  Alistair could not help but smile at Jack’s words. He was a very fortunate fellow to have such a friend. He rubbed his abdomen. “Perhaps some tea and a biscuit or two.”

  Jack snapped the lid of Alistair’s trunk closed. “It will be awaiting us in the carriage.” He waved to the door. “Shall we make our excuses and be gone?”

  Alistair straightened his jacket. “Indeed we should.”

  ~*~*~

  Anne rubbed her neck. Sleeping with one’s head tipped back and to the side made for a very stiff neck.

  “Your neck would not hurt if you had allowed me to provide you with a shoulder on which to sleep.”

  Anne lifted her chin. “It would not be proper.”

  Conrad’s responding chuckle was deep and not altogether friendly. “I do think we left propriety behind when we climbed into this carriage at Bromley. It really would not be so bad a thing if I sat beside you and allowed you to rest your pretty head on my shoulder. Who would know? There is no one here but us, and I can jump back to my respectable seat when we stop. None would be the wiser.”

  Anne shook her head. “No. I would know.”

  Conrad moved so that his leg brushed against hers.

  “Do not touch me,” she said, pulling her leg away. “It is not proper.” The gentleman across from her was not as pleasant as the fellow she had met on the green in Hunsford or the one that had dined at Rosings.

  “I apologize. I am not fond of being confined to a carriage.” He turned and looked out the window. “We will be stopping soon for fresh horses.”

  Anne studied his face. He seemed rather bored. Travelling was not all that exciting after the first few hours. “Will we be stopping for very long?” she asked. “I admit I have never been in a carriage for this long before.” London had been the extent of her previous travels, and they had passed town not long before she had fallen asleep. Rising early was not something of which she planned to make a habit. It was tiring.

  “A few minutes or half an hour if you wish to take a turn or two of the courtyard and refresh yourself. A glass of wine and a bit of food might not be unwelcome.”

  As if it was listening, Anne’s stomach rumbled its agreement.

  “A light meal it will be,” Conrad said with a smile much more like the ones he had worn when she had first met him.

  ~*~*~

  Some cold meat and cheese along with a warm and fluffy roll accompanied by what passed for tea at the establishment at which they stopped seemed to do the trick for both Anne and her companion. Her stomach was pleasantly satisfied, which in turn made her mind happier as well. The same seemed to be true of Mr. Conrad. He had settled into his seat in the carriage without even making an attempt to coerce her to sit beside him. It was the first stop they had made today where he had not endeavoured to see her seated on the bench next to him.

  As pleasant as it was to not be put upon in such a fashion, it was also a trifle annoying. It seemed almost as if he had lost interest in her altogether. Anne knew she did not seek his attentions, but to have them withdrawn was — well, it was just disappointing. There was a touch of a thrill that came from denying a gentleman what he wished.

  She pulled out her book and opened it to where she had left off reading.

  It was probably best not to indulge such delectable feelings as thwarting a gentleman in h
is pursuit stirred, for they were likely the sign of being a wanton, and Anne was not unprincipled. She knew how a proper young woman was to act. She just found it added a bit of liveliness to an otherwise dull existence when one pushed against the bounds of propriety.

  “What are you reading?” Conrad inquired, looking up from the packet of papers through which he was shuffling.

  “Folktales,” she replied, opening the book to the first page.

  “You enjoy fanciful tales, do you?” Conrad placed one envelope on the bench next to him and, placing the other papers back in the packet, propped the bag between himself and the carriage wall.

  “Indeed I do. I just finished reading Histories by Monsieur Perrault. They were very good.”

  “You read French?” Conrad asked as he picked up his letter and broke the seal.

  “And why should I not? I am the daughter of a baronet and the niece of an earl. My education has been excellent.”

  “Of course,” he muttered.

  An irritating smile played at his mouth. Did he not believe her? “I assure you that I can both read and speak French.”

  He peeked up at her from his letter. “I do not doubt you.”

  “You do not look as if you believe me.”

  “My apologies,” he said with a bow of his head.

  Anne straightened her skirt and then lifted her book. “I read a translation, but I could read the French if I had a copy of it to read.”

  Conrad chuckled.

  “It would be wrong of me to allow you to think I had read the French when I had not. Integrity is of great value, do you not think?”

  “It has its place, I suppose.”

  Anne placed her book on her lap. “You suppose?”

  “Yes.”

  “Honor and uprightness are not things to be picked up and worn for a mere moment. They must be a constant adoration!”

  “You may be correct.”

  That irritating smile was back, and it made Anne bristle. “I am correct,” she said, lifting her book and beginning to read the tale of Bonny Jane. This one always made her skin tingle with expectant dread.