Conceit & Concealment: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

by Abigail Reynolds

  “Another blessing on this blessed day!” exclaimed Cartwright.

  The crowd parted in front of them. Several women sat on a stoop, cutting up French flags by lantern light and sewing the scraps into the familiar flag of Great Britian. Another flag flew beside the door of Darcy House, this one a roughly sewn jumble of red, blue and yellow. Elizabeth squinted at it. Was it supposed to be the royal standard? Someone must have been busy.

  A woman near Darcy asked, “Is that truly Miss Gardiner from the Neptune?”

  Darcy placed his arm around Elizabeth's waist and turned to face the crowd. This was a question he was happy to answer. “She has been known as Miss Gardiner, although she was christened Miss Elizabeth Bennet, daughter of Thomas Bennet of Longbourn. But I am proud to announce that her correct name is Mrs. Darcy and has been these last three months.”

  Scattered cheers were interrupted by shushing noises. “Her Majesty is trying to sleep!” hissed one fellow.

  Darcy held the door for Elizabeth. His wife. Coming home with him.

  The door was barely closed behind them when a cloud of white fabric and golden hair raced down the stairs and barreled into him with such force he staggered. “Thank God you are back! I was so worried!”

  Returning her embrace, he said, “Georgiana – or I suppose I should say Charlotte or Your Majesty—”

  “No!” The girl's face was buried in his neck, but her voice was perfectly audible. “You must call me Georgiana, just like always.”

  “Well then, Georgiana, you might want to let go of me long enough to see who—”

  “Elizabeth! Is that truly you?” Kit dashed down the stairs almost as quickly as Georgiana had. He was still dressed in that ridiculous red coat, but his hair looked as if birds had been nesting in it. “You are alive!”

  “Oh, Elizabeth!” cried Georgiana, tears filling her eyes. “I am so glad, so glad!” She started to embrace Elizabeth but drew back at the last second, her nose crinkling. “You smell horrid.”

  “Essence of River Thames. It is still in my hair,” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “I believe I shall go back to lavender water; I do not care for this new scent.”

  Kit clasped both her hands. “Thank God you are safe! William was out of his mind when he thought you were dead – even wanted to leave England completely.” He gave Georgiana a worried look, as if he wished he could take back the words.

  “But now you will stay, will you not?” pleaded Georgiana.

  “I will have to. I just announced to the world that Elizabeth and I are married, and I do not believe my wife wishes to emigrate.” And he never planned to let her leave his side.

  “Married?” Georgiana asked in disbelief. “But how?”

  “We married secretly on board the Neptune,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Almost three months ago.”

  “And you did not tell me?” Georgiana sounded hurt.

  Darcy smiled. “I am sorry. Perhaps I have learned the habit of keeping secrets too well, even when I should not.”

  Elizabeth patted Georgiana’s arm. “I hope you will be happy for us anyway. I am so very glad to see you again. I would not leave here for all the tigers and elephants in the world.”

  “You cannot leave now that you are my sister. I never thought it could happen.” Georgiana wound a ringlet around her finger. “Although I suppose you cannot be my actual sister since William is not truly my brother. But it will be just like being sisters, will it not?”

  Kit sidled over to Darcy. “I should warn you, she drank quite a bit of brandy. She was so upset when she discovered you were not here, and nothing I said would calm her,” he said in a low voice. “I have no idea how you and Elizabeth manage it.”

  Georgiana tugged at her ringlet, clearly deep in thought. “I know! We will be true sisters after all. After I marry Kit, that is.” She smiled beatifically.

  Kit's jaw dropped, leaving him standing with his mouth open. “I... I...”

  Elizabeth said, “I would not worry too much. It is the brandy speaking, no doubt.”

  Georgiana gave her a puzzled look. “No, it is not. I decided it months ago. Kit is the logical choice, and I like him.”

  Kit raked his hand through his hair, leaving it even more disordered, and turned a helpless look on his brother. “Can you explain it to her?”

  Darcy shook his head. “Perhaps we could discuss this in the morning.”

  “What? This is insanity! You know perfectly well she cannot marry me.”

  Georgiana bit her lip. “If you do not wish to marry me, I shall not insist.” Her voice shook.

  “It has nothing to do with my wishes,” said Kit desperately. “You cannot marry me. I am no one. You must marry a prince, whether I like it or not.”

  The girl shook her head fiercely. “No. England should not have a foreign Prince Consort, not now, so I must marry an Englishman. And I need to produce heirs, since if something happened to me, Jérôme Bonaparte's brats will have a claim on the throne. I must marry quickly. Why should I take time hunting for a husband when I have a perfectly good one right here?”

  “But your marriage is a matter of state, not just a personal preference. You are not even of age!”

  “What difference does my age make? There is no Regent until we have a government to choose one. Perhaps... Lady Matlock, would you be so kind as to serve as my Regent until then?”

  “Of course, dear, though you hardly need one,” said Lady Matlock.

  “May I marry Kit?”

  “Yes, and I agree you should do so quickly. Kit, pray close your mouth before someone mistakes you for a fish.”

  Kit sank down to sit on the steps, his head in his hands. “I cannot believe this! And none of you even seemed surprised.”

  Georgiana sat beside him and patted his knee. “You simply need time to become accustomed to the idea. It will not be so bad, you will see.”

  Kit turned his head towards her, keeping his hands up so no one else could see his face. “I never said it would be bad.”

  The girl beamed. “Oh, good. You were starting to worry me!”

  Lady Matlock said, “Perhaps we can sit down as we discuss what should happen tomorrow morning. I am too tired to stand for long, and Elizabeth looks half asleep on her feet.”

  “It is the morning already,” muttered Darcy.

  The mantel clock chimed once as if to agree with him.

  Chapter 21

  Elizabeth had grown accustomed to the rocking of her bed on the Neptune, but it was not moving when she awoke. Was it an unusually calm day on the river? It also seemed softer than her bunk on the Neptune. But she could hear the sailors drilling as usual – or did she? The voices were shouting orders in English, not French, and no footsteps pounded overhead.

  Her eyes flew open. Where was she? Pushing aside the luxurious bedclothes, she sat up and stared at the unfamiliar inlaid furniture and chinoiserie walls. She was still wearing the brown wool dress from the pub.

  She shivered as the previous day came back – the exploding ships, fighting to stay afloat in the Thames, the respite at the pub, and finally Darcy House. But she did not recognize this room.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy. Would you like your hot chocolate now?” The cheerful maid was unfamiliar to her.

  “Er...yes,” said Elizabeth. “Am I correct in thinking this is Darcy House?”

  “Mr. Darcy’s own room, madam. Mr. Darcy carried you here when you fell asleep downstairs. He said you would want to bathe this morning, so I took the liberty of ordering water to be heated. Should I have your bath prepared now?”

  “A bath would be heavenly.” Elizabeth rubbed her arms as she got out of bed. “I do not recall seeing you here before. Are you new?” She would have remembered this girl. Darcy House servants, selected for their lack of curiosity, never showed this kind of initiative.

  “Yes and no, madam,” said the young woman. “I work for Mr. Cartwright next door. Most of his staff is helping here today. When your Mrs. Reynolds found
out last evening she had to feed and house two dozen soldiers, she begged our housekeeper for assistance. Mr. Cartwright found out about it and asked for volunteers to help here, and of course everyone volunteered. It is such an honor! Shall I help you out of that dress?”

  “Thank you. It is good of Mr. Cartwright to be so generous,” said Elizabeth.

  The maid made quick work of the fastenings on the simple wool gown. “I have never seen him so happy! As soon as he heard the news, he began organizing the neighbors. Everyone is helping to provide food or housing soldiers, and each house sent footmen to be in the royal honor guard. Major Darcy is drilling them now. And every woman on the block, from the mistresses of the houses to the lowest servants, is sewing tabards for the footmen so they will match, and new royal standards, too. My own mistress cut up her yellow satin dress for the first standard.” The girl giggled. “It did not turn out very well, being made in such a hurry, but it was flying two hours after Her Majesty arrived, and that is what mattered.”

  Elizabeth shrugged out of the dress and started on the ties of her shift. Her stays must still be at the pub. “And all this had to be done in one night?”

  “Of course!” said the maid eagerly. “Those French monsters will see how we honor Her Majesty. What if she wishes to go out today, and we do not have the royal guard ready? All England is watching us!”

  “Of course,” said Elizabeth solemnly as she stepped out of the scratchy shift. “Somehow I assume Lady Matlock must be part of this, too.”

  “Oh, yes. Her ladyship is meeting with General Wellington, Lady Frederica, and some other gentlemen about regaining control of the country, or some such matter. Lady Matlock told Mr. Cartwright that when he had everything on the block under control, he should begin planning the coronation. The coronation! Can you believe it? And to think we are actually in the same house as the queen! This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me.”

  The girl helped her into a satin dressing gown Elizabeth did not recognize. Of course; her own must be on the bottom of the Thames, along with all the possessions she had not been wearing and the manuscript of The Tales of Princess Rosalinda. A pang stabbed her. All the sailors she had come to know, the awkward lieutenant who missed his sweetheart in France, and the last two proud hostages – all gone in an instant. The lieutenant’s sweetheart would wait for him in vain. Those annoyingly ever-present tears pricked at her eyes.

  The girl finished buttoning the robe. “There. That is much better. Mr. Darcy wishes to speak to you before you bathe. May I send him in?”

  Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, do let him in.”

  Her husband was coming to see her, and she was wearing nothing but a dressing gown with her hair loose about her shoulders. And still smelling of the Thames. How unromantic!

  Then Darcy came in with all the assurance of a man entering his own bedroom. He stopped short when he saw her, his eyes darkening and a flush rising in his cheeks. “Elizabeth.” He sounded half-strangled.

  Suddenly worried, she asked, “Is something the matter?”

  “No. Not at all.” He shook his head as though to clear it. “The maid must not have realized that we have not yet...”

  Her spirits lifted. “Not yet lived under the same roof as husband and wife?” she asked blandly.

  The corners of his lips twitched. “Something like that.” His voice was husky.

  She touched the tip of her tongue to her dry lips. “I understand you carried me here last night. I apologize for falling asleep during the discussion.”

  He shifted his feet. “After the day you had, I am astonished you lasted that long.”

  Unable to resist the longing building inside her, she took a step towards him. “This is your bedroom, I assume?”

  “Our bedroom,” he corrected. “I slept in the dressing room last night, or what little of the night was left once I came upstairs.”

  “We could have shared the bed.”

  “Elizabeth,” he growled, reaching out a hand and running a lock of her hair through his fingers. “You had been nearly killed, half drowned, half frozen, and altogether exhausted. I wanted you to rest. And I did not trust myself to keep that resolution if you were within arm’s reach. I am only human.”

  Heat pooled in her belly and spread downwards. “I see.”

  Darcy cursed under his breath. “One of Wellington’s men was supposed to take me to Carlton House half an hour ago, but I could not bear to leave until I had spoken to you, not after nearly losing you yesterday. He is still pacing the floor downstairs, and I fear if I even touch you, he will still be waiting an hour from now.”

  Now her mouth was so dry it was hard to form words. “Why are you going to Carlton House?”

  His lips twisted. “I am to meet with Desmarais and Wellington’s man to determine how best to manage our many French prisoners. It is a rather urgent question, since some of our people have decided to take justice into their own hands.”

  “That sounds important.” And she did desperately need a bath. She placed her palms on his chest, causing him to suck in a deep breath. “I will give you just one kiss, and after that, we must wait until tonight.” She tipped her head back and brushed her lips against his.

  How could such a slight touch bring pleasure through her whole body?

  He covered her hands with his. “Tonight, then. You have more self-control than I do.”

  “And I have a bath waiting which will finally allow me to remove the last of the river stench. That cannot happen soon enough.”

  Darcy groaned as though in pain. “Now I truly must leave, or I never will.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Did I say something I should not have?”

  “Bath. You. In the same sentence. Have mercy on me, I pray you.”

  Her cheeks burned. “Tonight, Theophilus Thistle,” she said firmly, pointing towards the door.

  “Tonight, proud Titania,” he whispered.

  ***

  The lower floors of Darcy House reminded Elizabeth of a busy market day, with people coming and going in all directions and a buzz of conversation everywhere. The dining room was filled with a jumble of what must be soldiers, given the amount of weaponry they carried. In the breakfast room, three uniformed officers argued over a map spread on the table. Servants and messengers bustled through the hall. The change from Darcy House’s normal placidity was shocking.

  In the drawing room, Georgiana practiced her music in solitary splendor.

  “Elizabeth!” the girl squealed, jumping to her feet and running to hug her. “I still cannot believe you are truly here. I wanted to see you when I awoke, but William would not let me. He said you needed to rest, but I could not understand how you could possibly sleep through all this din.”

  “I do not think cannon fire over my bed could have awakened me. But I do feel as if I have come back to a completely different house.” Elizabeth gestured around her.

  “It is very strange, is it not? And odd – there are so many people, and none of them will talk to me beyond ‘Yes, Your Majesty’ or ‘No, Your Majesty.’”

  “Perhaps they are all too busy talking to one another,” said Elizabeth tactfully.

  “They are certainly doing that! My aunt – except she is no longer my aunt, is she? – Lady Matlock, Lady Frederica, and General Wellington are deciding the future of the country, which French laws still apply, and whether Parliamentary boroughs should be changed. I wanted to take part, but Lady Matlock said my presence was making Wellington nervous. The breakfast room is military headquarters, but that is only temporary. Mr. Cartwright is arranging to put them in his house and re-billeting the soldiers in other houses.”

  “It sounds as if Mr. Cartwright has been very busy.”

  Georgiana giggled. “Lady Matlock says he is the majordomo of the Brook Street Palace, but he starts to stutter whenever I speak to him.”

  “The Brook Street Palace?” Elizabeth could not help laughing.

  �
�General Wellington called it that in jest, but somehow the name has stuck. Lady Matlock wanted us to remain at Carlton House now that I have declared myself, but Wellington said I had to return here until he could install me at Hampton Court. Anything less would draw attention to the fact that Jérôme Bonaparte is still there and I am not. But I was just as glad to come back here anyway, although it is not much like home anymore.” She sounded wistful.

  “It does seem strange.”

  Georgiana bounced up and down on her toes. “But now that you are ready, shall we go outside? I would like to thank the neighbors who helped us last night.”

  Elizabeth suppressed a smile. “A very kind thought, but I believe it would be more proper for them to come to you now.” Lady Matlock must have failed to include lessons in royal protocol in Georgiana’s instruction in ladylike behavior.

  “Nonsense. That is what my father or grandfather would have done, but I have no intention of being that sort of queen. The people need to see I am alive and that I care about them.” She grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and tugged her towards the door.

  “You must at least have a guard!” Elizabeth protested.

  “Oh, very well. Kit is out in the street anyway, and it is his job to guard me.”

  No doubt that explained the sudden desire to go outside.

  As the girl tied on her bonnet, she said, “Oh, I invited your aunt and uncle to call if they wished. William was sending them a message saying that you were alive, so I asked him to add that. They may be too busy, of course.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “You do realize that an invitation from the queen is the equivalent of a command, do you not?”

  Georgiana’s fingers stilled on the laces. “Oh, dear. I had not thought of that. I hope it will not be too inconvenient for them. I just thought they would want to see you.”

  Taking pity on the girl, Elizabeth said, “I shall be extremely glad to see them in any case, so I thank you for inviting them.” But she would have to remember that Georgiana’s uncertainty had not disappeared.