by Leenie Brown
“Miss Lydia seems to be in need of some similar instruction,” Richard muttered.
Mrs. Bennet’s brows rose as did Darcy’s. Richard was not usually one to be so open about his disapproval of someone.
“I fear she might fall prey to some of the charmers here in town,” he added.
“Do you really think so?”
There was no denying the genuine fear which coloured Mrs. Bennet’s tone.
Richard nodded. “I do.”
“But she is a sly one,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Lydia knows far more than she will ever display. She does not wish to be thought a bluestocking, you see.”
Richard’s expression did not register belief. “Be that as it may,” he said, “you must admit her head is easily turned by a handsome gentleman. She has spoken of little else. Gentlemen, beaus, ribbons, and dresses – and the ribbons and dresses were only mentioned in terms of capturing a beau.”
Mrs. Bennet huffed, and Darcy, picking up his cup, leaned back in his chair to watch.
“It is imperative for a young lady to be fashionably attired to show not only her status but also to entice a gentleman to make an offer.” Mrs. Bennet wore a stern look as she shook her head. “Any lady’s future is dependent upon securing the best offer, and a lady who has little to her name aside from the claim of a gentleman father must make the best use of what is available to her in seeking a secure future.”
Richard’s head cocked to the side as he studied the woman before him for a full thirty ticks of the clock on the side table. Then, he nodded. “I will agree that what you say is true if you will agree that the young lady in question needs guidance to guarantee that the gentleman who calls on her is not a cad presenting himself as a proper match.”
Mrs. Bennet blinked, but then lifted her chin. “I am certain all of my daughters would be able to pick out a cad should one present himself.”
Richard shook his head. “They have not. I know it for a fact.”
“You cannot know that!” Indignation radiated off Mrs. Bennet in palpable waves.
“What do you think of Mr. Wickham?”
Darcy nearly choked on his tea at the question.
“He is a handsome fellow, very pleasant and promising.”
Richard shrugged. “He is handsome and pleasant, but he is only promising if you wish to win his money in a game of card. However, if you are a merchant expecting repayment or a lady expecting an offer of marriage and not just a bit of fun, especially if you have no fortune, he is quite the opposite of promising.”
Mrs. Bennet huffed. “He cannot be. Elizabeth found him agreeable.”
“We all err at times,” Richard said softly. “But, I know for a fact that he is nothing more than a practiced liar and a libertine.”
“But Lizzy is always right.” Mrs. Bennet’s brows were drawn together so tightly that they nearly touched.
“What was her opinion of my cousin?” Richard asked.
Mrs. Bennet’s brows sprang apart and upward as she turned wide eyes toward Darcy.
“I was less than civil,” Darcy said. “Her opinion was not without justification.”
“True,” Richard agreed. “But it still stands to reason that she is just as fallible as the rest of us. A person presents himself in a particular manner, and we all determine he is a particular sort of person until evidence refutes our evaluation.”
Mrs. Bennet’s brows were once again furrowed, and her face was suffused with confusion.
“He means,” Darcy began, drawing the woman’s attention back to himself, “that until I presented myself as civil and gentlemanly, your daughter saw me as a dour disapproving man, which I was. I did not behave at all as I should have while in Hertfordshire. I have apologized to her, but I should also apologize to you for speaking of your daughter as I did at the assembly. It was wrong. She is lovely and very handsome.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled. “I knew you could not be an utter fool. You would have to sooner or later admit that she was pretty, for she is. Perhaps not so handsome as Jane, but Elizabeth is far more than tolerable.”
“I would agree.” Though his cheeks were warm from the reprimand in her words, he could not help but smile at her assessment of Elizabeth. “She is far more than tolerable. However, getting back to my cousin’s point, even if I would find it far more entertaining to contemplate your daughter…”
At that, Mrs. Bennet giggled.
“Mr. Wickham will present himself as an affable gentleman until he has acquired whatever it is that he wishes. Only then will his true character be revealed.” Darcy’s brows furrowed. He could not tell her about his sister’s ordeal, but there must be some bit of information that would help her understand Wickham’s lack of character. “What do you know about him?”
She shrugged. “He mentioned he was a friend of your family, but beyond that…” Her eyes grew wide, and she gasped. “Very little,” she admitted quietly.
“He was a friend of my family. In fact, he was a favourite of my father. So much so that when my father died, Mr. Wickham was bequeathed one thousand pounds and, should he take orders, the living at Kympton, which was in my father’s power to bestow when a vacancy should arise. There are many details that I could add, but I will suffice it to say that the living was refused in favour of three thousand pounds.”
“He squandered it,” Richard interrupted. “Four thousand pounds gone in a very short period of licentious living.”
“Can this be true?”
Darcy could not fault Mrs. Bennet for being so surprised. Wickham was very good at weaving a tale and presenting himself in the best light. “I fear it is. Again, there is more I could tell you, but not without endangering the reputation of a young lady whom we – my cousin and I – know.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Did…” she looked around the room and lowered her voice, “did he ruin her?”
Darcy shook his head. “Thankfully, no, but he played with her heart in hopes of securing her dowry.”
Mrs. Bennet’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. It was a response which Darcy had not fully expected. Surprise was to be expected, but tears? He saw her jaw clench and relax before she swallowed and spoke softly but with a great deal of anger behind her words.
“From this moment, he is no longer a friend of mine. The heart is a precious thing, and its ruin is…” She shook her head and brushed a tear from her cheek. “What can be done for my Lydia? She is very taken with Mr. Wickham.”
“If you allow me, I shall consider it and devise a plan,” Richard said. “There must be at least one young man in London who could replace Wickham in Miss Lydia’s regard. Between Darcy and I, and with Bingley’s assistance, I am certain we can help her forget Wickham.”
Relief washed over Mrs. Bennet’s whole being. “I would be so delighted if you would.”
Chapter 8
A vision in a blue day dress stood in the corridor. Darcy paused for a moment to appreciate her form as she was unaware of his presence; then he continued toward his destination.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy smiled as he said her name in greeting. Seeing her here in his home was such a pleasure, but she did not have to be present for him to wear this particular smile. Just the thought of her brought a great deal of joy to him. How very different from just a few weeks ago when he thought of her only with sorrow as he contemplated a long and dreary existence without her in his life. Happily, he had been guided by his friend to rethink his position, and now, here he was standing just outside the ballroom — his ballroom — with her.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, returning his smile and dipping a small curtsey. “My mother informs me that I am to participate in a dance lesson?”
“Only if you wish to do so.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “My mother was most insistent that I wished to dance, and my father agreed! I should not like to return to them and tell them I have not danced.”
“But you do not wish to dance?” Darcy’s brows
rose. He thought she loved dancing.
Her lips twitched as she attempted to affect a serious expression, but it was of no use. She could not keep her amusement from showing on her face. “I would so like to tease that I despise dancing, but I fear I am not so good an actress as that. I do love to dance.”
Darcy offered his arm. “Then shall we interrupt and join the fun?”
Her left eyebrow lifted impertinently, and she opened her mouth to speak. However, Darcy spoke first.
“Your mother does that very thing,” he said, looking steadfastly at her face as if he had never before seen her. And for a moment, he felt as if he had not. He was not certain how many times he had felt this very same way — as if he was seeing things for the first time — since that moment in Bingley’s study when he had confessed first to his part in separating his friend from Jane and then to loving Elizabeth. He needed to pay better attention to people. He had always thought himself a good observer and reader of character, but at present, he found himself wanting.
Elizabeth’s brows furrowed. “What does my mother do?”
He had turned to look at her more fully, lifting her hand from his arm and placing it in his left hand before he ran a finger of his right hand over her left brow. “She lifts this very same brow just as you were doing a moment ago. I assume you were about to tease me.” He smiled at her, his hand resting on her cheek. “You often arch that brow when you are about to say something impertinent. It is an enchanting expression. One of many.”
She was so beautiful. Her eyes, her lips, and even her nose spoke as plainly as her words did.
“You fascinate me,” he muttered.
Her lips were parted as if she wanted to speak but no words would form.
He caressed that one eyebrow once more and then removed his hand from her face. “What were you about to say?”
She shook her head. “I do not know.”
“Then shall we join the others and dance?”
Her eyes grew wide.
“You remember,” he said with a smile.
“I do.” Her lips curled into a smile, and that one eyebrow arched as he waited and watched.
“I was going to say I had thought you did not like to dance, Mr. Darcy.”
He could not help himself. He had to touch her cheek again as he responded, “I like to dance with you.”
Her cheeks flushed, and her lids lowered as she looked away from his eyes. “There will be others with whom to dance. You shall not be allowed to dance only with me.”
He waited until her eyes lifted to his again before speaking. “The prize is worth the price.” It was enjoyable making her lower her eyes and smile that soft smile she was wearing now. “Come, my love. Let us disturb the master.”
Inside the ballroom, Lydia, Miss Allard, Richard, Georgiana, Kitty, and Mary were just forming sets.
“Ah! Do we have more dancers?” The slight, blonde-haired master cried in delight, clapping his hands together.
“Miss Elizabeth, this is Mr. Hughes. Mr. Hughes, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
The man bowed and welcomed Elizabeth.
“Do you dance well?” he asked.
“She dances very well,” Darcy said. “I have had few partners who performed better.”
Mr. Hughes clapped his hands in delight once more, chortling about his good fortune to have such assistance in instructing his pupils. “An example to follow is far superior to attempting to follow my words. You will stand up together, yes?” he asked, looking from Darcy to Elizabeth and back.
“With pleasure,” Darcy assured him. He had always found Mr. Hughes to be a most animated fellow, but today with a room full of dancers, the man was positively beside himself with glee that showed in his every movement and expression.
Mr. Hughes tapped his lip with his finger as he surveyed the room. Then, he flitted over to the group of dancers.
“Here. You will do well to be near Miss Allard and Miss Kitty. Miss Darcy and Miss Mary will stand beside Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Lydia.”
After Darcy and Elizabeth had taken their places, he clapped his hands three times, pulled himself straighter, and said, “Ladies, I expect great things from you today with so many fine examples to follow.” Then, he nodded to his assistant, who began to play the cotillion, Le Rouët à filer.
“Circle right,” he called as he clapped his hands in time to the music. “No, no, no! Join hands behind. Behind, Miss Mary. Not in front. Ah, better.”
And so it continued for a full three repetitions of the same cotillion before the second and final dance of the day, a quadrille was attacked in the same fashion with instructions such as forward, back, and step lightly being given over the music.
Finally, as the second attempt of the quadrille came to an end, Mr. Hughes clapped loudly and shouted, “Well done! Well done! A fabulous day. Simply fabulous.”
Darcy chuckled. The gentleman’s fair complexion was nearly as flushed as Miss Lydia’s who wore a smile as broad as Mr. Hughes did. There was no denying that Miss Lydia found dancing to be the best activity in the world when her enjoyment was so evidently displayed.
“Can we not dance one more?” Lydia asked.
“I am afraid I must be on to another appointment,” Mr. Hughes replied. “However, if it is possible, I would welcome you to join me again for a lesson. You are very light and quick on your feet, and so graceful.”
Lydia sighed and thanked him, though it was apparent to anyone who looked at her that she was disappointed that Mr. Hughes was leaving.
“Come, Miss Lydia, allow the gentleman to leave,” instructed Richard.
Lydia sighed again, a small pout forming on her lips. “If I must.”
“You must.”
Richard’s assurance was met with another sigh.
He pulled his watch from his pocket. “What would you say to taking Dash for a walk?”
Lydia’s eyes lit with delight. “I should like that very much.”
“Darcy?” Richard asked.
“I see no folly in such a plan as long as Dash’s leash is secure.” The animal would likely benefit from expending some of his energy in a walk.
“And will you join us?” Richard asked.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth and after getting a nod in response to his unasked question, told Richard that in half an hour’s time, they would all take Dash for a walk.
Chapter 9
Dash paced the drawing room, stopping to sniff each person, and thoroughly checking each corner before he decided to curl up at Lydia’s feet.
Darcy shook his head, both Dash and his cousin had been following Lydia around all day. First, it was the dance lesson – Dash was, thankfully, absent for that. Then, it was their walk where Lydia had one hand on Dash’s leash and the other on Richard’s arm. After that, they had spent a bit of time in the music room with Georgiana, where it was discovered that Lydia had a most remarkable voice, though she could not play a single song without several stumbles. For dinner, Dash had once again been relegated to his room, but now, as they sat in the drawing room, he was at his favourite Miss Bennet’s feet, and Richard was at her side.
“She seems very willing to listen to everything the Colonel says,” Jane whispered to Elizabeth with a nod toward Lydia.
“Indeed, she does. It is most remarkable,” Elizabeth replied. “He suggests, and she does. I have never seen her so compliant.” She darted her eyes toward Darcy before continuing. “Do you suspect she has set her cap at him? He is unattached.”
Jane sighed. “I would say yes if she were to act more…”
A loud giggle cut off Jane’s words.
Jane’s shoulders drooped, and she changed her answer to a simple yes as she saw her youngest sister playfully swat Richard’s arm.
Oh, that was not good. Elizabeth watched Lydia duck her head and bat her eyes. Surely, the colonel would not be swayed by such obvious ploys. He had navigated the ton for many years and yet remained unmarried. He was far too sensible and astute a ge
ntleman to be led along by a pretty young girl, especially one so young as Lydia, was he not?
“I think she fascinates him,” Darcy whispered. “He wishes to see her improved,” he added when both Jane and Elizabeth turned shocked eyes toward him.
Elizabeth bit her lip. “It is a dangerous game they play.”
“How so?” Darcy asked.
“Affections could be aroused without a hope of a future.” She spoke softly as she did not wish to have anyone other than Darcy and Jane hear what she had to say.
“You fear Richard will engage your sister’s heart with no intention of returning her admiration?”
That was part of it, though she did not expect the colonel to do so knowingly.
“He might also find himself enamoured. It is less likely, but not outside the realm of possibility.”
“And if both should become attached, what harm would there be?”
Darcy’s brows were furrowed, and to Elizabeth, he looked less than pleased.
“I do not mean to imply that I would object to such a thing, but how could it be resolved happily? I do not know your cousin’s situation, but my sister has little…” she grimaced at the next word, “money.” It sounded so callous, so avaricious. It felt no better to add her next thoughts. “His father is an earl. Our father is little-known.”
“My uncle is an earl,” Darcy replied. “Yet, I would happily marry one of your father’s daughters.”
Elizabeth’s brows furrowed. “But it is different,” she protested, though she was uncertain how to put it into words. “He is a son. Would his father even approve?”
Darcy shrugged. “Richard is not known for doing things just to please anyone. He is his own man.”
“But his inheritance could be threatened.”
How could he not see that the colonel pursuing a young lady such as Lydia would be disadvantageous and… well… wrong? That thought brought to mind something about which Elizabeth had been wondering since the day her father had fallen while they toured Darcy’s grand home.