Mr Darcy's Mistress

by Francine Howarth

  “I’m here if worst case scenario should arise, so fear not, for your sister gave him full stride along the avenue of beeches.”

  “Did she, then so shall I,” and with one flick of the reins Matlock seemed to fly.

  Darcy laughed. “Now there’s the wife I thought I had married.”

  If she could win Darcy’s favour so easily by driving Matlock, was it too much to hope she could lure him away from Belle? Indeed the other woman shared the same enthusiasm for sporting pursuits, thus his affections had lingered at Farthingly; though what of the child? Such a bond could never be torn asunder, nor would she wish for that to happen.

  “Rein back, gentle of hand,” said Darcy, in laying a hand to her wrist, thus awakening her sense of responsibility for letting Matlock thunder past the last of the beech trees. “Not enough. So afford him a firmer hand.”

  Half-afraid Matlock had gained his head and objected to being brought back to the trot, she applied greater pull on the reins and he indeed slowed with verbal encouragement from Darcy: “Steady Matlock, steady to the trot.”

  “Thank goodness, I truly thought I had lost him.”

  “Nay, he would have slowed of his own accord in nearing the onlookers, though would have enacted a more prompt halt than you would appreciate.”

  Fully aware she had lost concentration on the horse at hand, Darcy knew it too and said not a word as they drew level with the expectant faces awaiting her response and she handed back the reins.

  “Well?” asked Jane.

  “Yes, yes, tell all,” said Lydia. “Isn’t it a fun thing, a simply fun thing to do? If only I could have a curricle I would travel for miles and miles.”

  Bingley proffered a helping hand to alight. “You look as though you thoroughly enjoyed the experience.”

  “I did, I did, be assured of that.”

  In stepping aside she turned and Darcy smiled. “Until next time,” said he, “and we’ll be back at around two of afternoon or thereabouts. Tell cook to keep soup warm and cold meat will suffice if there’s no stew or hotpot.”

  “Oh. Where are you going?” asked she, as Bingley leapt aboard with a warm driving rug.

  “To look over the flock at high peek,” replied Darcy. “Bartlett the shepherd is of mind to bring them down today, so we might be of some use in leading them along the lower lane and good exercise for Matlock too. The dogs do the hard work.”

  As the two men set off, she turned to join the women already making off inside the house. Jane paused by the door. “You did look as though you enjoyed yourself, and would you be happy to drive yourself about the countryside? I tell you, Lizzy, I loved every minute of driving over to Longbourn, though confess Bingley was sitting alongside. The second time I drove to Longbourn quite alone, except Bingley rode escort. It’s not all that far betwixt the properties and just think, even when I begin to fill out as Lydia has, a curricle is better than riding a horse.”

  “Yes, I think I could become proficient with more practise.”

  “Oh good, then you will be happy to take the reins again.”

  “Indeed I will,” replied she, rather curious at Jane’s seeming desire to see her out and about with independent means at hand. “Though I doubt Darcy will allow me to venture out alone with Matlock? He treasures that horse.”

  “You could have your own conveyance, could you not? There are carriage horses here, and I rather think Darcy would like nothing better than you and he out curricle driving. Bingley did let slip, Belle’s love of carriage driving is in part why Darcy frequents Farthingly. However, she does ride to hounds as well, and he’s not so keen on that particular sporting activity.”

  “Does Bingley hunt?” asked she, as they entered the house, Porter standing close to.

  Jane lowered her voice whilst they stepped across to the stairway. “Yes, but not every hunting day. He, like Darcy, merely does it to save face. Oh, and it does seem probable they will be riding over to Farthingly on the morrow.”

  Porter was heard closing the door and then striding back to the servants quarters, as they in turn readied to go aloft and gain benefit from a fire in the hearth. Whilst removing her bonnet, Jane paused at the foot of the stairway and again spoke: “Our former plan to take a carriage ride into town and stop by at Farthingly simply cannot be on the morrow.”

  “To wait another day is so frustrating. Nonetheless, we shall make it there in a day, or two, and we shall do our utmost to ascertain knowledge of Bonnie’s lineage. If she does have Darcy bloodlines such will be evident, do you not think so?”

  Jane laughed, as though tickled. “There is no certainty she will resemble Darcy. It may well be she is very much a Sanders, or nothing like them at all.”

  “Who is Bonnie?” enquired Lydia, part leaning on the gallery banister. “Has Darcy been naughty in the past? Oh do tell.”

  Her heart slumped, and Jane’s expression mirrored her own. It had to be Lydia who overheard them.

  “Oh Lord. I see it for what it is.” Lydia then came rushing down the stairway and embraced her eldest but one sister in furious manner. “Poor, poor Lizzy, but don’t mind too much. Men are men, after all, and he married you. So it could not be more than a passing fancy and a mishap, no doubt.”

  “I would like to think that is all it was.”

  Lydia set her loose and stepped back. “You think otherwise? An ongoing tryst, perhaps?”

  “Shush,” said Jane. “It’s a delicate matter.”

  “And requires investigation,” said Lydia, genuine concern etched on her face. “If I felt sure Wickham had a mistress close at hand—or one at all, for that matter. Oh how I would confront her and tell her to leave well alone, or else.”

  “Else what?”

  “Oh Lizzy, come now, a wife can cause havoc for a mistress, if of a mind to.”

  “There is no absolute proof.”

  “Then we must get it; and the sooner the better. Where does this person reside, who is to approach her, and under what guise, and once we are set on a plan we must enact it as quickly as able.”

  If only she and Jane had held their tongues until safe behind a closed door. “We cannot simply arrive at Farthingly and bluster in with accusations, Lydia. This needs careful thought, and within the safety of a room with a closed door. Now let’s go aloft and get warm.”

  Lydia turned about and led the way. “Neighbourly cordiality is a must in the first instance, though once we are in, so to speak, three to one is good odds, is it not? Besides, as the outspoken amidst the three of us, I can be inquisitive. My bump is proof motherhood is not far distant, and it won’t seem the least bit strange if I ask what’s-her-name, does she have children, for how am I to know her life history?”

  “What’s-her-name is Lady Sanders.”

  “Oh her,” said Lydia, a tentative smile. “Georgiana speaks very highly of the woman, but no matter, because she has never said whether the lady is married or otherwise. Least ways; not in so many words, though the lady is said to be extremely fond of a gentleman, whom Georgiana referred to as the lover.”

  “Well, the lover cannot be the earl, for she met him but a short while ago.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened, her brows raised. “Earl; what earl?”

  “A guest staying at Chatsworth.”

  “Goodness, I had quite forgotten the Duke of Devonshire has his country estate hereabouts. Do you think we could take a carriage ride and poke about at Chatsworth?”

  “Poke about?” said Jane. “Really Lydia, it is short of good manners to simply drive up to a house and expect admittance without good cause, or at best, prior invitation.”

  “Oh stuff cakes and balderdash, why not, when it has been the custom of country houses for centuries to afford sustenance to travellers deemed gentry, aside from a bed if need dictates? Besides Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and Lizzy, trailed around Chatsworth on their visit to Derbyshire, and here at Pemberly, that’s how Lizzy knew what she’d missed in saying no to Darcy’s first proposal.”


  Jane let slip a sigh of resignation to Lydia’s unrestrained enthusiasm for devilish escapades. “Do you truly believe we could simply arrive on the duke’s doorstep and he would grant us audience and not send us away with a sour taste in our mouths?”

  “Perhaps if I smile sweetly and then collapse in a wobbly manner, we shall gain entry and take tea with the young duke. He’s quite the eligible bachelor.”

  On reaching the head of the staircase, it was time to quell Lydia’s fanciful notions. “We shall not be venturing to Chatsworth unless invitation to do so should come our way. Besides, you’re a married woman.”

  “Such as the duke are unlikely to ever come my way,” said Lydia, as they stepped along the corridor, “and why must you both be so prim and proper? What is more, how is venturing to Chatsworth different than driving to Lady Sanders’ house without prior invitation?”

  “I have reason enough to visit Farthingly, and—”

  “Indeed you do, but the lady herself will be blind to your purpose and view it as a curiosity, no doubt. And think on it, Lizzy, for in similar circumstance would you not be wary of three unknown young ladies arriving outside at this very moment?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Precisely,” marked Lydia, stalling their onward path, “and if Georgiana accompanied us on a drive to deliver in person a request for Lady Sanders to dine here at Pemberley; is it not likely we will be invited inside for the purpose of introduction?”

  Jane touched her arm. “Lydia’s suggestion has merit, Lizzy.”

  “Will Georgiana not suspect duplicity, when a more formal invitation by post fits with discreet politesse?”

  Lydia lowered her voice to almost a whisper: “Georgiana is too sweet to suspect any one of us as cunning backwater madams.”

  “Backwater madams?”

  “Wicky always thought of us as backwater madams, of the first order no less, and schooled by a cunning and ambitious mother. Though he liked mama well enough for all her silly notions he was a good catch, and you cannot deny she marked his manly attributes.”

  “Oh how dare he, how dare he say such a thing.”

  “Oh come on Lizzy, you had a fancy for Wicky: quite smitten as I remember.”

  “Oh foolish girl; I had no such inclinations toward Wickham.”

  “Well you fooled me, and him, then. But as he later said, it was I who ignited untold passions.” Lydia giggled. “I’d better dash, because she’s waiting in her suite. You see, I promised to play a round of picquet. Stop worrying Lizzy, and leave everything to me, for I’ll wager Georgiana will think our plan is a wonderful suggestion. It is by far a more neighbourly and less formal approach to Lady Sanders, is it not?”

  Without awaiting reply, Lydia turned and dashed away, and Jane expressed her thoughts. “Oh dear, what have we done?

  “I dread to think, and can only pray Darcy’s sister is as naive as Lydia implies, and further pray our little jaunt is far from doomed to disaster before it has begun.”

  Jane sighed. “Oh dear, if Georgiana’s former experience with Wickham can be judged accountable to naivety, then Lydia may well be correct in her estimation of a perfectly nice young lady, one who sees only the best in others. And that alone does not rest easy on my conscience.”

  “Nor mine,” said she, whilst opening the drawing room door. “And yet, how else am I to unravel the truth about Bonnie?”

  Eleven

  ~

  The day was not as planned. For all four were dressed for the drive into town and now gathered in the salon. The clandestine detour to Farthingly was utterly compromised at the last moment, for Darcy had suddenly announced he and Bingley were away to that very destination. Thus in haste the two had departed from the salon to their waiting horses. Not a glance passed between Lydia and Jane, and the mistress of Pemberley dared not say a word as they donned their respective gloves whilst awaiting the carriage to the door. But Georgiana still innocent and unaware of the covert aspect, opened her reticule and retrieved the invitation card, and said: “Why did I not think of it sooner, for Darcy can take the invitation, and that will afford more time for dallying in shops.” And in great haste his sister flew after the departing men, and arrived back with a rosy glow to her cheeks. “There, and he was most pleased to deliver the invitation to Belle to dine here of Saturday next. And twice as pleased I had sent invitations to others of our mutual acquaintance to attend for a soiree with a little carding on the same eve.”

  “I am so glad you agreed to my plan for entertaining friends of Darcy’s, and who better than you to decide who would respond to invitations.”

  Georgiana positively glowed with sense of pride. “I do understand it is most difficult for you, Elizabeth, in not knowing who of Darcy’s friends should be invited and those, well—best left to the passage of time. As Darcy said, once the ice is broken and others gain hearsay Lady Sanders is to dine at Pemberley, such will determine who will send replies with great immediacy.”

  “I feel sure we shall all have a wonderful evening,” said Jane, as the sound of equine hooves and wheels on gravel announced the arrival of the carriage.

  “Come along, then,” said Lydia, rushing forth as Porter reopened the outer door. And so they followed and settled to the carriage, Lydia as ebullient as usual and forward in her next outburst. “So Georgiana; is there no young man you have a tendre for, or have you secretly sent him an invitation too?”

  Georgiana blushed as the horses settled onto the bit and the carriage moved off with a slight jolt. “I did rather like a gentleman whom Belle entertained on one occasion though doubt he and I will cross paths again despite exchange of letters with affectionate asides.”

  “Oh, is he handsome; fair; dark; tall; do tell?”

  “Not unlike Belle; very fair and decidedly dashing.”

  “A titled gentleman?”

  “Indeed. Lieutenant Dolby, Viscount Welton.”

  Lydia glanced around the carriage as though expecting sisterly participation, and when none arose, she continued: “Does Darcy approve of the gentleman?”

  “I don’t believe my brother and the viscount are acquainted, and he may not approve of correspondence between us, for the viscount is the son of Belle’s friend; the dashing earl.”

  “Oh but what Darcy has no knowledge of he cannot fret over.”

  “It is deceitful of me, and I shall have to own to it unless of course Robert’s letters cease.”

  Lydia chuckled. “I’ll wager the gentleman conveys undying affections, for why else would he correspond with you?”

  “A little. And Belle says he is not a man who would deem to play fast and loose with my affections. Nor would he declare fondness in black on white unless sincere in pursuit of same in return.”

  If nothing else Georgiana’s secret was safe in their company, and Lydia holding court was equally amusing. Her questions at best were typical of Lydia; the nosy-parker. “Might Lady Sanders’ judgement of his character be a little swayed by his family connection? On balance, she has failed to secure marriage for self, as I understand it.”

  Georgiana seeming quite relaxed, replied, “That much is true of Belle, but she has always had many admirers from amidst the aristocracy.”

  “Is Belle pretty and fashionable in every respect, for it does seem inordinately strange for a titled lady to remain a spinster? Is there a marginal impediment, perhaps extremely tall, rotund in stature, or plain of face?”

  Georgiana flinched, markedly taken aback by questing fault in Belle’s appearance.

  Lydia being Lydia expressed blind innocence and mere curiosity with a beaming smile. “We all have faults of one sort or another, and mine, as my sisters will attest to, is that of asking indelicate questions. But I am genuine in pondering why spinsterhood has befallen a woman of title and property, for would not a bounder at least take advantage of her situation, and then confess undying love, and thereby flatter her somewhat to gain her favour and much else besides?”

  Oh dear.
If only Lydia realised she had posed the very scenario in which Wickham’s enticement of Georgiana had near ruined her, which must be a mortifying memory for Darcy’s sister. But quick off the mark, and quite aware Wickham’s secret desire at that time was to gain access to Georgiana’s inheritance, Jane said, “Lydia, must you press for the minutiae of Darcy’s friends?”

  At best Jane’s attempt was to stall their sister’s present modus operandi.

  “No, no,” intoned Georgiana, “I quite understand Lydia’s point of view on spinsterhood, for I too have pondered Belle’s insistence there is no man who has met her desired ideal for lasting happiness; within wedlock, that is. Though Darcy says Belle is an obstinate woman who refuses to bend to any man, and in itself ensures she remains in charge of her own destiny. By that he means she has the Sanders purse strings firmly within her grasp, which is quite a fortune by all accounts.”

  As Lydia set to in admiration of any woman who had the wherewithal to pick and choose in life, the two younger women’s voices drifted into vague background discourse, and she, the injured wife, dared not enquire after Darcy’s marriage proposal to Belle, for could the woman’s fortune be greater than Darcy’s? Was that the crux at issue, therefore the other woman would never exchange her freedom for marital bondage? No, why would she when her fortune afforded choice in every aspect of life. After all, Belle could fall in and out of love, and exchange one lover for another if she so chose. Her wealth was hers no matter scandalous pursuits or that of a long-term lover constant in the wings, and Bonnie, oh yes, Bonnie, born to a titled heiress. Though thank goodness Lydia had held her tongue on knowledge of a child, and instead had pointed out how privileged upbringing alone had set Belle apart from the likes of the Bennet sisters. But the truth could not be denied, for despite illegitimacy and the name Sanders as opposed to that of her blood father, Bonnie would reap a goodly marriage and no doubt a titled husband.

  If she were to speak her thoughts aloud, her sisters and Georgiana would hear envy and bitterness in voice, for it was true, a woman of Belle’s standing had no cause to bend to a man’s will. She had no need to become a chattel with no rights, no voice on how a wife should be revered, loved, and cherished. Women of Belle’s ilk bore no conscience in respect of those whose husbands they held captive to desires beyond the marital bedchamber. Oh how cruel it all was, how unfair to believe one’s husband had fallen in love with oneself, and then to discover his affections were but shallow desire to procure an heir to his fortune and estate.