"Let's make sure our beasts of burden are well groomed, Darce, before we visit our cousin."
Darcy glared at his cousin with his back to the ladies. Their horses were always well tended at Rosings, Darcy made sure of it. But he knew Richard must have a thought on his mind and needed a private word.
As the two men stepped out into the sunshine once more, Darcy didn't have to wait long.
"Did you see the bruise on her cheek, cousin? What could a nice lady like her be doing with a mark on her such as that? Her story of falling today doesn't explain the deep purple and indigo colors. That injury is at least a day or two old!"
Darcy scowled, remembering the sight of Elizabeth's face as she came down the stairs to join them.
"I shall have a strongly worded conversation with that parson of mine."
"Oho, will you now? And what shall you say to him? Inform the man on how he must treat his female cousin in his protection?"
Darcy glanced about to see if any servants might have overheard as they neared the stables. He realized it would overstep his place to interfere in another man's household over a woman so officially wholly unconnected to himself.
"It is abominable for a man to raise a hand to a woman," he hissed.
"We must not jeopardize our plans. Your lady is made of stern stuff, that much I can say. Did you see the way she stared him down before we left? Have faith, Darce, she will be safe."
Darcy stopped walking. Richard's assessment stung him and he immediately panicked over what further injury she might endure.
Darcy glared at Richard's sympathy with a jealous lover’s eye "It was dangerous to bring her here."
"You were insistent."
"I said no such thing!”
Richard made a mock face of surprise. “Truly? All that whining of being separated must have been a different man's letters I read each week.”
“Richard. Collins is the man she was to marry. I've told you . . .”
Richard kicked a pebble and frowned. “Well, we’re in a fine pickle now! The lot of us. It’s a damned morbid comedy, that’s what it is.”
Angry and annoyed, Darcy turned on his heel and strode to the house. Let Richard pamper the horses, he was going to see to his future wife, and her friend, and make sure they had every comfort.
As Darcy entered the sitting room outside of Anne's bedroom, he could hear Elizabeth's voice through the cracked doorway. Taking a deep breath, he acknowledged that eavesdropping once again was reprehensible, but he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of drinking in her voice. He closed his eyes and listened, but snapped them back open as he quickly realized the subject matter the three women were discussing. At that point, he was rooted to the spot to hear more.
"It was horrific, Anne. That poor family needs Christian charity, not exile! So yes, I sold the candlesticks and gave Diana the money. It took Collins two days to notice there were wooden ones on the table."
"Was he most upset that you had helped the family he was evicting or that the candlesticks were gone?"
Both women laughed leaving Anne confused.
"See, I knew you would help me see the folly in this! I think it might have been losing the precious silver candlesticks, that was the biggest blow."
As the laughter stopped, Anne's voice became serious.
"But he struck you, you must be careful, Miss Bennet."
"Oh it doesn't hurt now. And better me than Charlotte, though I'm certain he has struck her before, has he not?" Elizabeth looked to her friend who hid her face in silent shame by looking down.
"Yes, but" Anne stopped to catch her breath and refused her friend Charlotte's assistance. Once she could slowly breathe in normally, she continued, "But next time he might not just leave it at one strike. Promise me, promise me you will take care to not raise his ire. Not before the Archbishop arrives."
Elizabeth took a deep breath and paused as she thought she saw movement in Miss de Bourgh's sitting room. As she took a few steps closer and opened the bedroom door wider, she saw an empty room. Shrugging, she turned back to her friend and resolved to move to a happier subject. She meant to ask Anne about the dreams and wishes she had before she became ill.
Chapter Twenty-One
Darcy took the stairs two at a time. He scared a footman about to cross the foyer with his sudden arrival causing the young man to immediately turn and go back the way he came. Darcy was outside and about to march back across the meadow between Rosings and Hunsford when Richard called out to him. This broke the spell of rage Darcy was under and allowed him to bellow.
"He struck her! The coward hit her face because she helped a tenant family!"
Richard swiftly moved to stand in front of Darcy and coaxed him back towards the house. "We knew he hit her, there was no question about that and we agreed there could never be a cause. Now, come with me to the library. Let's have a drink and be reasonable."
"Reasonable? Reasonable? That man deserves to be beat within an inch of his life!"
"And what would that achieve? How would marching over there to teach that windbag a lesson help Mrs. Collins? Will it make a man like him less likely to strike out or more likely to prove he's in control? THINK man. Better yet, will it help us marry our loves or potentially send your Elizabeth packing this very afternoon?"
Richard had said the magic word. Darcy blew his frustrations out and ruffled his own hair in the aggravation of feeling powerless. It was not an emotion he was accustomed to experiencing.
"I need a drink."
Richard grinned and followed Darcy back inside. "Yes, and we're raiding the finest. I need to wash that horse's piss the Parson calls brandy out of my system."
The men were surprised to discover Elizabeth in their retreat of choice, reaching far above her head to a dusty shelf in the corner. Richard rushed forward to assist her. As she pointed to the tome she needed, she collected the other thick volume she had already pulled down on her own and began walking towards Darcy with a wide smile. Darcy wasted no time in pouring himself and Richard a stiff drink, and downed his in a swallow before facing the beautiful, yet flawed, visage before him.
"Mr. Darcy? Colonel?" Elizabeth looked over her shoulder to beckon her book boy to bring his burden to the front of the room. "I must enlist your aid in making mischief."
"Mischief, Miss Bennet?" Darcy hoped if he forced himself to keep using her polite name, it would help him to put his emotions back into their cold reserve. "To what end is this mischief?"
"Why pleasing Anne!" Elizabeth beamed at the two men; clearly satisfied she would not be denied. "I propose we read, nay perform, as much as we can, A Midsummer Night's Dream for Anne, I mean Miss de Bourgh, as she has just told me that one play she wished she had been afforded the opportunity to see was the same."
Darcy poured himself another drink as a memory flooded his mind, of a young Anne, nearly eleven, laughing at Richard and himself trying to wage a proper naval battle in the small pond on the west side of the property. She was healthy that year, before a bout with pneumonia that winter would rob her of every ounce of youth and send her into a faded presence. She had splashed water with her hand to make waves, causing both Richard and himself to cry out, to which she had explained surely even in battle, Mother Nature had her say. She had been reading a collection of Shakespeare's works that summer, the gold-leafed volume Sir Lewis had given her for her birthday.
"I think it's a splendid idea, what say you Darcy?"
Darcy cleared his throat. "Of course, anything for Anne."
Chapter Twenty-Two
The servants of Darcy House in London disproved of the former Miss Darcy and her husband, but nothing rankled Mrs. Potter more than the mischief she saw afoot at this moment. Strangers of ill repute visited the home on a near daily basis and more and more items were missing. She had not proof yet, but something strange was going on and she was determined to get to the bottom of it!
After dismissing two young maids to see to the guest rooms, Mrs. Potter bustl
ed her way to the master's study full of vim and vigor. That imposter George Wickham should not take her Master's place, but she was powerless to tell him otherwise, even if she did find it repulsive. After knocking on the door and entering, the man sat oblivious to all behind her Master's desk with papers and letters all around.
"What is it? I'm a very busy man and cannot—" Mr. Wickham looked up and his expression immediately shifted to disappointment to see Mrs. Potter. The older lady crossed her arms at his sudden change in demeanor, knowing too well he hoped her to be a young maid for an afternoon dalliance. Never in her years of service at this house had she sent a maid packing to her family, and she just did such a week ago due to this man's snake.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but the vase in the library, the blue Ming? It be missing, sir."
"I'm sure Mrs. Wickham ordered it cleaned or packed away. She is changing the decor and has requested some items from Pemberley. I expect they shall arrive today."
"Pemberley?" Mrs. Potter's voiced failed her for a moment. These leeches were to plunder the spoils of Pemberley as well? She must write to Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Reynolds straight away!
"Is there a problem with my wife decorating her home?" George Wickham glared at the housekeeper with a wild look in his eye.
"No, of course not, sir. Mrs. Wickham has excellent taste and I'm certain when the Master returns, he will be most pleased with his sister's efforts." Mrs. Potter remained indifferent in her expression though she felt enormous triumph inside as she managed to remind the pretender of who truly owned this home.
"I'm certain you have work to do, leave me to mine." Wickham dismissed the housekeeper with a wave of his hand. He could not be bothered with some lowly servant needing to understand his plans. As Wickham tallied the sums again and again, even with the money he would get for the statues and artwork from Pemberley, he was still five hundred quid short. Lord Strange and Mr. Bullington did not appear to be men of an understanding nature when a business associate failed to fulfill an obligation. Wickham was going to have to find the last of the money somewhere.
Leaning back in the chair of Fitzwilliam Darcy, George Wickham dreamed of the freedom only wealth could provide. This one investment, a small portion of Georgiana's dowry if he had possession of it as was his right as her husband, stood as the best path to his future of fancy-free living. Wickham cursed Darcy and snapped forward to bang his fist on the desk. That man always thwarted his plans at every turn!
Spying a miniature of his lovely wife on the desk, Wickham's lips began to curl in a sinister grin. Perhaps there was one asset he had overlooked, one of great value. Picking up the small portrait of a thirteen-year-old Georgiana, he felt especially light as his own loins responded to the picture. She wouldn't like it, but if he charmed her enough, George had no doubt he would find a very compliant wife to his wishes and that of his friends with money to pay for her attentions.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Colonel Fitzwilliam lay stiff as a board on the cream carpeted floor in Anne Darcy’s bedroom and Fitzwilliam Darcy held the hands of Elizabeth Bennet close to his chest.
“I had no judgment when to her I swore!” Darcy stared into Elizabeth’s eyes, holding his part of Lysander, not needing much motivation to evoke a desperate man.
“Nor none, in my mind, now that you give her o’er.” Elizabeth attempted to pull her hands away but Darcy held them fiercely, just as he’d seen done on the London stage. Anne grinned from ear to ear watching the scene unfold, pressing her hands together and rising to sit higher than her fluffed pillows would allow. Charlotte Collins sat next to her, riveted by the emotional tension in the room. If she had not known her friend to be a gentlewoman, she might have wondered if Mr. Darcy and the Colonel had hired a professional actress from London for the fete.
“Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.” Again, Darcy looked into Elizabeth’s eyes but noticed a small smile creeping on her lips. He looked down to see what was the source of her amusement when a stifled snore came from near his feet. Exasperated, Darcy nudged the lifeless body of his cousin Richard with his foot with more force than was polite.
Richard flailed his arms at an unknown assailant, managing to knock Darcy’s tall legs from under him by catching him right at the knees, which pulled Elizabeth Bennet down onto a heap with both men on the floor.
“Richard, you dolt!”
Richard was fully awake now that the weight of two persons had landed on his gut and he was quickly pushing both away from him. Elizabeth landed soundly on her rear end straight onto the floor, causing her to burst out laughing.
“How could you fall asleep?”
“What? I’m a soldier old man, and this floor is one of the most comfortable ones I’ve had a pleasure to lie on.” Richard pretended to readjust himself to resume slumbering.
“Oh Richard, have you truly slept on many floors?” Anne asked, barely above a whisper.
Richard opened his eyes and winked, before closing them again. Taking a deep breath, he quickly rose and began shouting in a bombastic voice:
“O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!” The Colonel reached down to help Elizabeth up as she was still trying to remain serious. She continued her giggles as Richard forgot most of his speech and instead gave her a flourished bow and kissed her hand.
Deciding that would have to do, Elizabeth pulled her much abused hands away from the second gentleman to claim them this afternoon, in the spirit of the dramatic arts, and placed them on her hips.
“O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent to set against me for your merriment:” She wagged her finger at both men, and glanced to Anne and Charlotte, both ladies were watching her little play with rapt attention. Elizabeth took a moment to begin pacing between the two men and raised her voice a notch in admonishment.
“If you were civil and knew courtesy,” she paused and took the opportunity to offer a hand to Mr. Darcy who had taken a casual reclining position of the floor with his arms resting on his knees after the spill of three, emphasizing the words she was speaking. “You would not do me thus much injury.”
“And the same could be said of you, Miss Bennet!” barked a voice none of them wished to hear from the doorway.
The smile on Darcy’s face disappeared as he dropped Elizabeth’s hand and stepped between his aunt and her prey.
“Aunt, might we employ you to play the part of Titania, Queen of the Fairies?”
“Fairies! I should think not!”
“Mr. Collins, we could use you as Nick Bottom, a most crucial part in the play!” Richard called out, spying the toad of a parson hiding behind his aunt’s wide girth just inside Anne’s attached sitting room.
Mr. Collins absently took a step forward at the invitation, only to receive the fiercest glare from his patroness. “Er, while the invitation is most inviting, I fear at this moment I am not inclined to dramatic displays as befitting the tastes and culture of those present.”
“It’s Miss de Bourgh’s favorite play, but she’s never seen it performed. We are acting as a kindness to her.” Elizabeth hurried to add, biting her tongue at Richard assigning her cousin the role of the ass.
“Of course she hasn’t seen it performed, her health has precluded her from such energetic and emotional influences, Miss Bennet. Had she been of stout health, she would have been a most celebrated admirer of the theater and a patron of the finest plays!” Anne’s mother was not to be swayed.
“You take exception, madam, that I fulfill a dying wish of my future wife?” Mr. Darcy’s voice resumed an icy tone he reserved only for his aunt, especially for occasions where she forgot her soon-to-be status as the Dowager of Rosings, not the Mistress.
“Darcy, you risk her health!”
“No, Momma, they are making me laugh!” Anne said loudly, holding the hands of Mrs. Collins sitting next to her on the bed.
Lady Catherine took one more calculated look at the room before her, disapproving of the levity and gaiety for a sickroom. �
�Well then.”
She turned around to make like she was going to leave, causing Elizabeth to release the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Mr. Collins,” she called, and glanced over her shoulder to the squat man looking back and forth at Mr. Darcy and herself “weren’t you just telling me how you were thinking Mrs. Collins should rest before dinner?”
“Why, why yes, Lady Catherine, you had just finished telling me how concerned you were for her and Cousin Elizabeth’s welfare given the devotion they both have bestowed upon Miss de Bourgh. It would not due to have three ladies ill, it is best they all rest as you say, and you are most generous to offer them rooms to do so.” The irony of Mr. Collins trumpeting Lady Catherine's generosity was punctuated by a deep rumble and harsh crash of thunder thanks to a spring storm. Three hours ago it was decided that the Hunsford party would dine and stay at Rosings overnight, as the weather was too harsh for them to return.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes involuntarily. She looked to Anne and slightly shook her head to confirm to the woman she was no burden. Anne gave a feeble smile and pressed her lips together, which Elizabeth recognized as her way of stifling a coughing fit. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth pushed past Mr. Darcy and took her cousin’s arm.
“Perhaps we have given Miss de Bourgh too much excitement for her condition and can wait to continue the play.” Before the Collinses could follow Lady Catherine out of Anne’s suite, Lady Catherine turned around and eyed the young woman most carefully. But Elizabeth didn’t flinch. “Tomorrow,” she said, with a light air to her words.
A Virtue of Marriage Page 10