A Dash of Darcy Companions Duo 2

by Leenie Brown

  “Shhh,” Alistair said. “Does anything else hurt?”

  Anne shook her head.

  “No aching muscles? No headache?”

  Again, she shook her head.

  “Lean toward me,” he instructed. He placed his lips lightly on her forehead. “You are warmer than you should be. Have you been out in the damp air?”

  Anne bit her lip and nodded. “Mornings,” she whispered.

  He sighed and shook his head. “Part of your plan, no doubt.”

  She nodded.

  “You know that damp air is not good for you, Anne,” Alistair scolded gently.

  Ralston chuckled. “If I did not know better, I would think the two of you were already an old married couple.”

  “Keep the blanket wrapped around you,” Alistair instructed, ignoring his friend’s comment. “There is no use having you get chilled again,” he added as the carriage door opened.

  Anne did keep the blanket wrapped around her shoulders as best she could while descending from the carriage. However, as her feet touched the ground, Alistair pulled the blanket more snugly around her and then scooped her into his arms.

  “I can walk,” she whispered.

  “And I have wanted you in my arms since I saw you at the inn,” he whispered back before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Do not protest, and allow me to keep you here for a little while.”

  She smiled and nestled her head into his shoulder.

  “Is Anne ill?” Lord Matlock, whose carriage had arrived just before Alistair’s, approached them.

  “She has been coughing, her throat hurts, she has little voice, and she feels as if she may be developing a fever,” Alistair replied.

  “Do you require assistance?”

  “No, my lord, I can manage.”

  Lord Matlock smiled slyly. “It is so much more pleasant to provide a heroic service to your lady than to call for a footman to see to it, is it not?”

  “Indeed,” Alistair agreed. He had met Lord Matlock several times over the years, but he had never before seen this almost rakish side of the man. An image of Lord Matlock and Alistair’s father standing at the edges of a ballroom assessing the ladies came to mind. Alistair’s father had declared many times that they had been an odd pair of friends — one of a more serious nature while the other was more devil-may-care — but until this moment, Alistair had never seen how that could be possible. Lord Matlock had always been gregarious, but he had also always been as proper as Alistair’s father.

  “Now, Mr. Pratt, I am going to allow you to carry her to her bedroom and might even allow a moment or two for you to take your leave in private. However, I do not think I can save you from the questions of my sister,” Lord Matlock cautioned.

  “I can speak to Mother,” Anne whispered.

  “You can barely speak and need to be in bed,” Alistair replied. “I will speak to your mother,” he sighed and added, “and mine,” as he saw the third coach that stood in front of Matlock House. There were two other carriages as well, but he was uncertain as to whom they belonged since all he could manage was a quick glance at them as he followed behind Lord Matlock.

  ~*~*~

  “You are very good to her,” Lord Matlock said as Alistair stepped out of Anne’s room.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Alistair replied to the man who was waiting for him in the hallway.

  It was better, Lord Matlock had said, for them to meet with Lady Catherine in the sitting room and for Anne to get settled before her mother accosted her with questions. Therefore, Anne’s uncle had insisted on standing guard in the hall while Alistair settled Anne into a chair in her room where she was to wait for her maid to come get her ready for bed.

  “Anne said you had told her that you love her,” Lord Matlock said as they walked side by side toward the grand staircase.

  “I do, sir.”

  “I can tell, and I am happy for it.” Lord Matlock stopped three steps into his descent and turned to Alistair. “Do not misunderstand me. I know her mother loves her, but my sister is not good at showing her love as most mothers might. She attempts to coddle and cosset, but I fear it appears more like orders and directives — and insufferable restrictions.”

  Alistair nodded. “I know, my lord. I have spent a great deal of time at Rosings with my mother and Lady Catherine. I know her strictures are not meant to smother even if those are the results.”

  Lord Matlock clapped Alistair on the shoulder and shook his head as a smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and causing them to sparkle with delight. “I had it figured that we might find a gentleman to love and care for Anne once Darcy finally declared his intentions not to marry her, but I feared we would never find a gentleman who could both love Anne and tolerate, let alone understand, her mother. There are many in this family who do not understand Catherine as you have just explained her.” He chuckled. “It should not surprise me, I suppose. You are your father’s son, and he has always been able to tolerate Catherine’s friendship with your mother.”

  “It was he who first explained to me how such overprotection was a sign of great care,” Alistair said as they resumed their descent.

  Lord Matlock chuckled again. “And then, I imagine, he went on to tell you that while it demonstrated affection, it was also a weakness.”

  Alistair nodded. “Which in turn became a lesson on carefully guarding your strengths so that they do not become weaknesses when left to run rampant.”

  “That does sound like your father. He is a good man and a good friend. From what I have seen of you, you are the same. I am happy to give my blessing to you and Anne and will welcome you to our clan with open arms.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “You could dispense with the my lord and call me Uncle as all my nieces and nephews do,” Lord Matlock suggested as they reached the landing.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Alistair replied with a smile. “Perhaps after Anne and I are married. Change is not always easy for me to accept.”

  Lord Matlock clapped him on the shoulder once again. “Very like your father,” he declared. “Now, are you ready to enter the din?”

  The sound of voices wafted from the drawing room door and down the hall to where they stood.

  “No, my lord, I am not certain I am, but it must be done.”

  “Ah, honesty. It is not always so easily found.” Lord Matlock chuckled. “To be truthful, I would rather avoid this as well, but as you said, it must be done. Tomorrow, I shall see to a license, although I do suppose a wedding will need to be put off until Anne is well.”

  She would get well and soon. A physician would give Anne a few tinctures and with rest and time, she would recover. Or so Alistair told himself to calm one set of fears as he followed Lord Matlock into the drawing room to face another.

  The room was full and filled with laughter and talking, or at least, it was until he stepped inside the doors and the din faded to silence. Darcy, his friend Bingley, Miss Elizabeth, a pretty young woman who bore a resemblance to Miss Elizabeth, Miss Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Lady Margaret, Lady Matlock, his mother and his father, as well as Jack, all stopped talking and turned to look at him. Alistair, in turn, looked at Lord Matlock, hoping that the gentleman would begin this discussion.

  With a wink and an understanding smile, Lord Matlock did just that. “Anne is being tucked into bed, and I have sent a man to get Mr. Bishop. She is only a little ill, Catherine,” he said as Lady Catherine began to rise from her chair. “It is only a small cough and sore throat accompanied by what might be a fever.”

  “There is never a trifling illness where Anne is concerned,” Lady Catherine retorted.

  “There is nothing you can do that is not already being done for her. Sit down.”

  Alistair’s eyes grew wide at the sharp tone Lord Matlock used. However, it was impressive how quickly Lady Catherine capitulated to his direction.

  “You will only make it difficult for her to rest if you go up t
here,” Lord Matlock added more gently. “She cannot talk to you. Her voice is weak. It would only weaken further if she were to speak to you, and you know she would. That is why it is for her best that you remain right here.”

  Lady Catherine’s chin raised as did her brows. “In light of such information, I would agree.”

  “Besides, I believe Mr. Pratt has something he wishes to say.”

  Wishes was not precisely the word that Alistair would have used. If he had a wish, it was for a chair in which to sit since his legs felt a bit wobbly. However, since Lord Matlock still stood next to him, Alistair remained standing and drew a breath, hoping the action would stop his heart from trying to beat its way out of his chest. “Miss de Bourgh and I wish to marry.” There, that should cut to the chase and help this ordeal to be concluded most expeditiously.

  “You and Anne?” Lady Metcalfe asked in surprise.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  His mother pulled her head back as she often did when not entirely certain if something was a good idea or not. “She is not particularly robust,” she said softly as if saying it in a lower voice would lessen the insult he was certain Lady Catherine would hear in his mother’s words.

  “There is nothing deficient in my daughter!”

  He had not been wrong.

  Lord Matlock tapped his shoulder. “Come. Sit.”

  Alistair followed him and took a seat next to him. There was no way he was moving far from the side of an earl who had given his approval of the marriage.

  “She is not so strong as some.” Lady Margaret’s countering her daughter’s statement came as a surprise to Alistair. “She is more like my Anne.”

  “She is not deficient,” Lady Catherine repeated.

  “I did not mean to say she is lacking,” said Lady Metcalfe, “but there are certain duties to a title…”

  “My dear,” Lord Metcalfe interrupted, “this might not be the best time and place to discuss such things.”

  “It must be considered,” Lady Metcalfe argued.

  “I shall marry no one else,” Alistair said before his mother could begin her standard lengthy discourse on what a proper viscountess should be.

  “You must marry,” his mother insisted.

  He nodded. “I am well aware of that fact, Mother, and I will marry — Anne, and no other.”

  Her lips pursed and her brows drew together in a look of displeasure with which he was familiar and, he knew, would only give a moment’s reprieve before she attempted once again to prove to him that she was indeed correct and he was in error. That was not going to happen.

  He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “This — your unwillingness to see things as I do — is why I had agreed to Anne’s plan to elope.”

  Again the room, which a moment ago at his declaration of not marrying any other had begun to hum with whispers, fell silent.

  “You were going to elope?”

  “Yes, Father, we were. I need a wife and do not wish to marry for anything but love. However, I knew that Mother would protest that I could find a better choice, just as she has, and Anne knew that Lady Catherine would also protest that Anne was already betrothed.” He glanced quickly at Darcy. “Therefore, it seemed the practical thing to do to elope and secure a wife while avoiding wasting time in debate over the matter.” He shifted forward in his chair. “However, no matter how much Anne might enjoy the excitement and scandal an elopement would bring, she deserves to be wed properly.”

  Lady Margaret rose from her chair and crossed to where a decanter stood on a table. “Did you come to this conclusion before or after my son intercepted you?”

  Alistair’s eyes narrowed. Did that small smile mean she already knew that it was not he and Anne who had run off together? “Did not Ralston tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” Lady Margaret’s smile remained in place, and her eyes did not widen naturally in question but more as if the expression was forced.

  Alistair looked at Jack, who shook his head.

  “Anne was not in my company when her uncle found her,” Alistair said. “She was on her way to meet me — not that I knew of her plans until Conrad’s letter arrived at Stanton’s.”

  “I think you might want to start this tale at the beginning.” Lady Margaret took her seat, a full glass of sherry in her hand.

  “Very well,” said Alistair, giving her a pointed look. If he was guessing correctly, she was throwing down a challenge of sorts to see if he would try to avoid the telling of the full story. He would not. He would give her the entertainment she sought, but not without tossing out a small challenge of his own. “Might I have a bit of something to refresh my voice as I tell it?”

  Lady Margaret raised her glass in salute. “Genevieve, Mr. Pratt needs some port,” she instructed.

  Lady Matlock’s brows furrowed, but she rose and procured the drink while Alistair began to tell his tale, calling on Jack and Lord Matlock to corroborate facts where needed.

  Chapter 10

  “Did you win?” Anne asked Alistair as she sat beside him in her uncle’s barouche a week after having arrived in town.

  She had been disappointed to have not been able to go to Angelo’s with Alistair, but she had been confined to bed for three days after arriving in town. It was only after her fever subsided that she was allowed out of bed, and then, for the next two days, it was only for meals or to be measured for wedding clothes.

  Then, yesterday, her mother had declared her well enough to go shopping, and when Anne had awoken this morning feeling better and not worse for the exertion of the previous day, Lady Catherine had been convinced that receiving callers would be acceptable. However, her uncle — wonderful, understanding man that he was — had declared sunshine and a change of scenery would be a far better elixir. So it was that, after a short argument between Lord Matlock and his sister, Anne had been instructed by Lady Margaret to change into walking clothes and was allowed to go for a drive and a possible walk in the park with Alistair.

  “We have not met,” Alistair said with a sly grin. Tomorrow, Anne and he would leave London for Kent. Their wedding would follow in a day — it was rather impressive how quickly a license and marriage papers could be acquired by someone of Lord Matlock’s standing. However, before they left town and took up their life together as husband and wife, there was one small gift which Alistair had been able to arrange for Anne.

  Anne sighed a small disappointed sigh.

  Alistair placed an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to his side. “I could not dispatch of the blackguard without you.”

  Anne gasped, and a smile spread across her face. “Me?” she squealed delightedly. She leaned forward and peered out around the side of the canopy. “Are we going to Angelo’s and not the park?”

  “Indeed we are,” Alistair replied, pulling her back to his side and kissing her gloved fingers. “We can still visit the park after we have concluded our business with Mr. Conrad if you wish. I do not wish to fatigue you, but I know how you have always desired to drive through the park. I shall leave it up to you completely. However, I would remind you that should you become ill, we will have to postpone our wedding, and I would rather not wait any longer.” He kissed her fingers once again.

  Anne smiled, and proper or not, she rested her head against his shoulder. “Might I decide after we have been to Angelo’s?”

  “Of course.”

  Anne sighed contentedly and, peeking up at him, said, “I love you.”

  “And I you,” he replied, punctuating his words with a kiss to her forehead. “Now, tell me all about your shopping trip yesterday.”

  And she did. For the rest of the trip through the streets to Angelo’s and even as they exited the carriage and entered the club, she told him of the ribbons, lace, and gloves she had purchased to go with this dress or that hat. However, her rambling tale of just how lovely a store Miss Elizabeth’s uncle had stopped mid-sentence when she stepped through the door to Angelo’s.


  She wrinkled her nose. The air was rather pungent with the aroma of gentlemen who had been exercising. She did not mind the smell of Alistair after a match in the grove, but here, where there were no fresh breezes and there was more than one gentleman wiping his brow, the smell was not so pleasant. She leaned toward Alistair. “I do believe I shall need an airing after this.”

  Alistair chuckled. “We can leave now if you wish.”

  She shook her head as her eyes fell on Conrad standing in his shirt sleeves near the wall. “Not until we have accomplished what we came to do.”

  “Very well, my dear, then, come with me. Jack has all the equipment waiting for us.” He led her to where his friend was waiting.

  “I must admit that after having listened to Al tell me about your skills for the last few days, I am rather excited to watch you, Miss de Bourgh.”

  Anne laughed nervously. “I hope I do not disappoint,” she said, looking around nervously. “I have never had an audience that was not comprised of trees and woodland creatures.”

  “Just focus on Conrad,” Alistair instructed. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “The others are but squawking crows to be ignored.”

  She smiled and nodded as she repeated, “squawking crows.”

  “Now, be a good girl and sit with Jack while I defend your honour.”

  Anne giggled and raising up on her toes, placed a kiss on his cheek much as she imagined a princess might do before sending her knight into a battle for her hand. The action brought a few calls from the gentlemen who had begun to gather and a pleased grin from Alistair.

  “It seems we are drawing a crowd.” Alistair lowered his mask into place but not before he had shot a pointed look at his friend.

  “I might have mentioned the match to a few people,” Jack replied.

  “Right, a few,” Alistair’s tone was skeptical. If he knew Jack, every person in the club had heard about this match. He shook his head and stepped up to greet Conrad.