Darcy did as asked, leaving nothing out. The earl’s face grew grayer and angrier by the minute. “Richard probably figured you were upset enough without making matters worse,” Darcy placated. “Now, with all the facts laid bare, I hope you see where the real problem resides.”
“Indeed I do. This is grave. Very grave. Unfortunately, malicious talk once started is impossible to stop. Fortunately, I am no longer a fledgling nobleman attempting to govern a strong-willed older sibling. Rest easy, William. I will deal with Lady Catherine. I cannot promise my influence will bring total acceptance of your marriage on her part. What I can promise is she will cease any direct interference.”
Darcy remained dubious as to just how much control even the Earl of Matlock had over Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but he nodded. All the drama and nastiness made him ill, and his longing increased to be married to Elizabeth and safely sequestered at Pemberley. Suddenly desperate to end the discussion, he set his empty glass onto the tray, saying, “So! If we have finished, Uncle, I do have business elsewhere, and a special evening engagement to prepare for.”
To his dismay, he got no further than placing his hands onto the chair’s arms.
“There is the situation with George Wickham and one of Miss Bennet’s sisters,” Lord Matlock gently reminded. “What I have been told is unsettling, even if only half is factual. A scandal like that is not to be taken lightly, William. Is there any truth to it?”
Of course, Darcy had not forgotten that incident. Nor had he honestly believed Lord Matlock would not address it, so he had prepared for the probability.
“Yes, there is truth to the story. How much, I will not say, and you must trust me enough to leave it be. I request this not just for myself and the Bennets, but also for another whom we both love.”
Other than Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam, Darcy had vowed to tell no one about Wickham’s planned seduction and elopement with Georgiana. He wasn’t about to break that vow. Whether close friends and family suspected something had happened in Ramsgate, he did not want to know, especially now that it no longer mattered. It was a dead topic best left in the past.
Lord Matlock’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Darcy held his gaze. “The only pertinent truth for the present is that Wickham and Lydia Bennet are legally married. Wickham is serving in His Majesty’s army, in Newcastle. Whatever ‘scandal’ there may have been was minor to begin with, unproven, and now resolved. In the past week, a dozen sensational scandals far more fascinating than this one have occurred within the highest members of the gentry and aristocracy. No one in Society knows who George Wickham and Lydia Bennet are and no one cares. A week after my marriage their names will be forgotten, if they haven’t been already.”
For a good two minutes, the Earl of Matlock stared silently, his expression bland. Then, slowly, a smile curved his lips. “You practiced that whole speech, didn’t you?”
Darcy nodded once, determined not to return the smile yet.
“Well, it worked. Quite persuasive. I am greatly impressed. You know, William, I have friends in Parliament who could easily get you a seat in the Commons. Interested?”
* * *
Of the four carriages housed in the mews behind Darcy House, the double-bench coach chosen for this evening was the largest and grandest. It was not yet two years old and designed with luxury and comfort in mind. Sturdily constructed, spacious, and outfitted as completely as a modern conveyance could be, Darcy reserved it for long-distance travel or special occasions. In his estimation, this night was a significantly special occasion.
Even before his conversation with Lord Matlock, Darcy had chosen the new coach to transport his betrothed and future father-in-law from the Gardiner residence in Cheapside to the Matlock townhouse in Saint James’s Square. Primarily this was due to the interior roominess and the smooth travel over rough patches on the streets.
Additionally, he wanted to show his respect for Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet by providing the best he had to offer. After the chat with his uncle, the stately coach emblazoned with the ancestral Darcy crest would serve as a bold declaration regarding the occupants, which no one could ignore. Prideful ostentation was not Darcy’s character generally, but this situation called for a grandiose spectacle and an undeniable message for curious onlookers who may have heeded nasty gossip.
What he had not anticipated was the reception upon seeing the coach parked majestically on the curb at Cheapside. The Gardiner townhouse occupants, all of them, had stopped abruptly on the entryway steps, mouths falling open and eyes widening in stunned awe. Slightly embarrassed at what outwardly appeared to be braggadocios flaunting of his wealth and station to the modest citizens of Cheapside, Darcy hastened to explain his reasoning, emphasizing the comfort aspect and leaving out the rest. Whether they bought his excuse or not, he was unsure. It didn’t help matters when seemingly everyone on the street paused to stare with the same expressions worn by the others minutes ago.
It was a relief to reach Fleet Street and then the Strand where imposing carriages were common. By the time they traversed the twists and turns merging onto Pall Mall, the three were relaxed and engaged in casual conversation.
Mr. Bennet wore a new ensemble tailored to fit his physique and of a style closer to current fashion trends than his typical garments, which mostly dated to the past century. How his daughters had talked him into it, Darcy was not about to ask. Whether the fresh haircut and shave were his ideas or the result of badgering by Jane and Elizabeth would also be left unanswered. In any case, Mr. Bennet was the model picture of a respectable country gentleman.
Elizabeth, as always in Darcy’s eyes, was stunningly gorgeous. She too wore a new ensemble, each item from the glittering jeweled pins holding her dense curls in place down to the white kid slippers on her feet, had been recently purchased. Per her taste, the gown and accouterments were modest and simplistic, yet fashionable. She was a vision of pure loveliness, and he could not remove his eyes from her.
The Bennet pair sat on the plush-cushioned, velvet-covered bench across from Darcy. It would not have been proper for Elizabeth to sit beside him, and for the present, he was perfectly content with the arrangement. She was delightfully gawking at the scenery passing outside the carriage window, and his vantage point allowed him to observe her movements unencumbered. It was fantastic! She was childlike in her curiosity and enthusiasm, her face radiant and voice animated.
“The gaslight is beautiful! See how the window glass sparkles? Just think, Papa, someday every house will be lit as brilliantly. It shall be as bright as daylight at midnight.”
“Pitfalls come with progress, but in this area, I can rejoice. If only to save my eyesight for improved reading, I will embrace a modern invention with potential disaster.”
If Elizabeth heard her father’s comment, it was not apparent. She had already continued her lively commentary about the people, architecture, foliage, and whatever else caught her fancy. For not the first time, Darcy wondered at her incredible ability to be at ease in any situation. The momentary stupefaction evoked by the coach had long since faded, replaced by keen interest and innocent appreciation for everything. If she felt out of her element, there was no hint of it. She noted the exclusive businesses along south Piccadilly and Pall Mall for their unique merchandise and elegant shoppers. The increasingly palatial townhouses did not faze her though she did marvel at their beauty.
“Will we pass by the palace, Mr. Darcy?”
Pulled out of his reverie with a start, Darcy shook his head. “I am afraid not. I initially instructed the driver to take the circuitous route past Saint James’s Palace. Alas, as we discovered on our way to fetch you, His Royal Highness is in residence and hosting a fete of some sort. Hence the reason I was a bit late. By this time, it would add another hour onto our journey to go that way.”
“A shame, but there is plenty of time for sightseeing later. The palace isn’t going anywhere—at least not that I’ve heard.”
Darcy laughed.
“Not in the near future. Perhaps the day after tomorrow we can spend the afternoon touring the city if you wish.”
“I may need to do more shopping.” At this, she flashed an impish smirk toward her father.
Mr. Bennet grimaced. “Whatever you wish, Lizzy. This trip is for you and Jane. I can be long-suffering and generous, especially knowing the two of you buying everything you lay eyes on will soon no longer be my problem. I wish you luck, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy merely smiled and inclined his head. Elizabeth had returned her avid gaze to the passing views, although she did add, “Look on the bright side, Papa. If we go shopping, you have another free day to explore Mr. Darcy’s library. There must be one or two shelves you’ve yet to scour. So you see, everyone wins!”
“Except for me,” Darcy contradicted. “Whilst you shop, I shall be adrift without the pleasure of your company, Miss Elizabeth.”
Turning to face him, her lips curved into the sweet, secret smile he now knew was only for him. “I cannot have you being left adrift weighing on my conscience, Mr. Darcy. It would be unbearable! Papa”—she patted Mr. Bennet’s knee—“you can still bury yourself in books while we, with Jane and Mr. Bingley, tramp about Town. This will save your pocketbook and your feet. A day of sightseeing does sound enjoyable. Besides, the night isn’t the best time for viewing a palace, nor is that the objective for this evening.”
“True on all points. Tonight is for my family to acquaint themselves with the superlative woman who has honored me with her acceptance of my proposal, and her esteemed father.”
Brows lifted and eyes wide, Elizabeth exclaimed with dramatic dismay, “Is that the purpose? I thought it was for me to learn more about the mysterious gentleman who honored me with a proposal. Why I have my list of personal questions that only kinfolk can answer to tucked into my reticule. Are you saying, Mr. Darcy, that I shan’t have an opportunity to interview each person in private?”
“Private interviews are forbidden, Miss Elizabeth, for the sake of my sanity. However, if it is any consolation, between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lady Matlock and, to some degree, Mr. Fitzwilliam, I fear the granting of a wealth of information designed specifically to embarrass me.”
“Then I am cheered considerably, sir. Thank you!”
Darcy laughed, letting the topic go in favor of indicating which houses belonged to whom, as they had now reached Saint James’s Square.
“Illustrious names familiar from newspaper gossip pages,” she murmured at one point. “Do you know all of them…personally?”
Darkness had fallen, and Elizabeth was again turned toward the window, preventing Darcy from scrutinizing her expression. What he could see through the shadows was not a face exhibiting extreme anxiety. Instead, it was the slight stumble of her words and trace of tension in her voice which gave him pause. Taken alone, he likely would have shrugged it off as his imagination. Then he saw Mr. Bennet turn his head around, a flash of outside light briefly illuminating the furrows between his brows and pursed lips as he peered at his daughter.
Was Elizabeth nervous after all? Had she heard snippets of the drifting rumors? Darcy’s stomach clenched and heart thudded.
In the few hours they had been together since the report from Colonel Fitzwilliam yesterday, Darcy had monitored her words and actions carefully, seeking nuances that might indicate she was aware, even if minimally. Thus far, he had detected nothing amiss on that front. There had also been no hint that she felt any anxiety about tonight. It was perfectly normal to be apprehensive when meeting unknown people, particularly his family. After the atrocious behavior of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, meeting two more titled nobles couldn’t possibly be a delightful prospect.
Trying to ease whatever trepidation she may be experiencing, Darcy aimed for soothing teases as he answered her question. “I have met most of the residents hereabouts at one time or another. Thereafter, I promptly did my best to forget them. Few are as interesting as you, my dear.”
“Heavens! They must be astoundingly unremarkable then. Are you sure this is accurate, Mr. Darcy?” she asked playfully. “How disappointing if it is. The papers must exaggerate terribly to write such fascinating stories and scandals about all these boring people.”
Pleased to see her humor intact and her brief flirt with nervousness gone, Darcy continued the banter by describing one of his uncle’s craziest neighbors. The short anecdote involved a greatly disliked yapping dog and a large alley cat, the latter decisively winning the animal argument. On the high note of gaiety, the carriage gently lurched to a halt, signaling their arrival at the London townhouse of the Earl and Countess of Matlock.
The foyer of the Matlock townhouse was larger than the Darcy House foyer by some four to five square feet, and was equally as impressive in fine furnishings. Throughout the house, Lady Matlock’s sense of style was, like the late Lady Anne Darcy, elegant in a reserved, almost understated way. The decor was both grand and soothing, the combination brilliantly broadcasting the power and wealth of the Earl of Matlock while expressing warmth and welcome. Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet scanned the surroundings with interest, but neither appeared overwhelmed. If his beloved felt any return of nervousness, she hid it well.
Pride swelling his heart, he offered his arm, escorting Elizabeth into the drawing room where the butler, Mr. Willis, led them. Everyone was present and stared at the trio as they entered. Lady Matlock sat on the gilded settee facing the door, a smile already lighting her delicate face. The three men—Lord Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Jonathan Fitzwilliam—stood in an arc between the settee and the larger sofa upon which perched Priscilla Fitzwilliam. Ever a house where formality reigned, the butler announced each of them in proper order and precision. Once completed, he bowed and left the room, at which point the stasis broke.
Darcy performed the less formal introductions, beginning with Lord Matlock. His lordship greeted Mr. Bennet first, naturally, and then bowed to Elizabeth. As Darcy expected, Jonathan Fitzwilliam was coolly proper, his tone perfectly civil yet lacking the genial undertone and measure of interest shown by Lord Matlock.
For easily the hundredth time in Darcy’s memory, Colonel Fitzwilliam proved his talent for easing tense situations. He bowed with exaggerated flair and welcomed both Bennets graciously but with his unique puckish charm. Then, when Mr. Bennet diverted his gaze, the colonel winked at Elizabeth, as if they shared secrets. Darcy instinctively experienced a flash of jealousy and was unable to prevent a fleeting frown. Richard raised one brow and smirked.
Oh, how well my cousin knows me. Internally laughing at the ridiculous reaction, Darcy’s frown turned into a smile, and he shook his head. Elizabeth laughed at the exchange her sharp eyes had not missed.
Priscilla Fitzwilliam’s acknowledgment was almost identical to her husband’s. Darcy had anticipated as much but was surprised when she did not assess Elizabeth’s garments with disdain. Darcy thought his fiancée beautiful in any outfit, but he had seen enough wealthy ladies wearing the latest fashions to grudgingly admit Elizabeth’s modest finances and limited experience were not on par with high society. Mrs. Fitzwilliam’s gown alone undoubtedly cost four times what Elizabeth probably had paid for her entire ensemble.
Furthermore, his cousin’s wife was an attractive woman with a slender figure perfectly proportioned to exhibit current designs, thus one of the leading mavens of the beau monde. Not wrinkling her aristocratic nose, at the very least, sent a message to Darcy, although whether that message was utter disinterest or an effort to be kind, he had no clue.
Saving the best for last, Darcy turned to his aunt. “Miss Bennet, Mr. Bennet, allow me the honor of introducing her ladyship, the Countess of Matlock.”
Darcy had forever been in awe of his aunt. She was, without question, one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on, age only increasing her resplendency. As exquisite as her physical appearance was her poise. Cultured and graceful as a ballet dancer, she also possessed a heart of pure gold. A quick glance at Elizab
eth and her father revealed the same awe he always experienced. Then she spoke, her voice as remarkable as her presence.
“Welcome to our home. We are delighted to meet you both. This is a precious moment long desired.” She glanced at Darcy, smiled, then returned her gaze to Elizabeth. “Please, sit here by me, my dear.”
Lady Matlock patted the cushion, Elizabeth doing as asked automatically. Her eyes widened at the gentle endearment, Darcy noted, and she trembled slightly. Then his aunt clasped onto one of her hands, saying gaily, “Oh, we have so much to talk about! I have known Fitzwilliam since he was born, you know? Just imagine the stories I have accumulated.”
Richard burst out laughing. Darcy groaned and covered his face with his hand. Even Lord Matlock and Mr. Fitzwilliam snickered.
“It appears the questionnaire inside your reticule will be used after all, Lizzy.” Mr. Bennet grinned at Darcy, who decided it was time to change the subject.
“My lady, I understand Lord and Lady Montgomery are attending His Highness’s fete at the palace.”
“Indeed, they are,” Lady Matlock confirmed. Turning to Elizabeth, she continued, “It is requisite I extend the apologies of our daughter, Miss Bennet. She greatly desired to meet her cousin’s betrothed. Alas, a commitment to the prince regent must take precedence.”
Richard suppressed a cough at the “greatly desired” comment, Darcy nudging him with an elbow into the side. Luckily, no one seemed to notice, thanks to Mr. Bennet’s question.
“Pardon me, but is your daughter married to Viscount Montgomery?”
“Indeed, Mr. Bennet,” Lord Matlock confirmed.
“His speeches in Parliament are remarkably well penned and convincing. His recent arguments on the slave issue were excellently wrought. I daresay he rivaled the best by Wilberforce or Fox. I have often wondered if he speaks as eloquently when the setting demands extemporaneous commentary.”
Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope of the Future: Darcy Saga Prequel Duo Book 2 Page 11