Mr Darcy's Mistress

by Francine Howarth

  They ceased discourse and stepped briskly to the carriage, the groom with travel rug to the ready. Nonetheless, he relieved them of their parcels whilst each ascended to the comfort of a seat. “We’ll keep the parcels with us,” said she.

  Before handing the parcels aboard, he passed up the travel rug which they hurriedly shook out and draped it down over their knees. With the parcels handed over the groom closed the door and scrambled aboard as the coachman drew the horses onto the bit and it rolled forward.

  “Well I must say,” declared Lydia, whilst sweeping a stray curl trailing over her brow, “Buxton is a fine little town, not unalike quaint old Meryton, barring the blasted steep inclines. I am fair tuckered from walking up the hill. I swear I shall fall asleep on the return journey.”

  Jane, almost a whisper, said: “That might be a good thing.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened and then narrowed: “I refrained from chattering non-stop, refrained from letting more than a few pennies loose from my purse for self despite Darcy kindly gave me a handful of sovereigns, and I begged no favours whatsoever this day. What more must I do to meet with your approval? It was Lizzy who insisted on the purchase of a velvet bonnet for me.”

  “I meant no disparage, Lydia, but you are with child.”

  “Oh, so it is my welfare you are concerned about not a runaway tongue?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Then I am sorry for jumping to the wrong conclusion. But aside from this baby lump, I feel perfectly fine.”

  “You were puffing a little in climbing the hill and red of face, thus I paused, in part for your sake.”

  “That was kind of you, Jane, but there is no need to fuss over me or this bump.”

  To cool the air a little, the mistress of Pemberley said: “You have more wind than me, sister dear, for I felt the pull in the climb.”

  Lydia giggled. “Well you are a good deal older than me, Lizzy.”

  “Not that old,” marked Jane.

  “You are five years older than me, Lizzy, and Jane is seven ahead.”

  “Darcy is ten years older than me,” said Georgiana, a beaming smile.

  Lydia snorted. “Don’t we know it, and quite the authoritarian when he so chooses, though surprisingly of a kindly nature beneath his crusty outer.”

  Georgiana fell to hoots of infectious laughter, causing all to fall foul to the moment, and she then struggled to say: “Oh dear, oh dear, poor Darcy, for Belle says much the same, and has told him on many occasions to loosen his necktie.”

  “Belle sounds like a delightful person,” intoned Lydia, “and I look forward to introduction to the lady.”

  “Albeit her ladyship is all grace and manners she is forthright when deemed necessary, and my brother is not the first to encounter verbal wrath. She scolded the earl for wearing his spurs in the house. His excuse it was a fleeting visit served him ill, for he was told to remove them or leave.”

  “Lordy, and?”

  “He laughed, bowed, and promptly turned to the door, his parting words: My regrets, your ladyship, and then he departed the room. Of course Belle raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes, and hurried after him. What passed between them I know not, but when she returned bearing a secret smile I assumed all was once again as it should be with friends.”

  “Who is Bonnie?” asked Lydia, presumably of mind it was the right moment to ask.

  Georgiana’s expression fell to shock horror, her voice falling to stutters: “Oh—well—I—I simply cannot tell you. It’s a secret, and not one I care to disclose. Else Darcy will take great umbrage and say I have betrayed his trust.”

  “Lydia, that is enough,” said Jane, quick to interpose with sense of eldest sister authority. “Please be a little more circumspect and less prone to pry into others affairs.”

  Lydia harrumphed and averted her eyes through the carriage window to the passing scenery, Georgiana likewise.

  Silence prevailed, and Jane’s sudden quelling of Lydia’s ebullient self seemed inordinately curt and gave rise to ponder. Was it possible Bingley had confessed all to Jane about Bonnie? For if nothing else, since early that morning Jane had seemed a little on edge, guarded too, and not for the first time she had thwarted Lydia in pressing Georgiana for intelligence about Belle and her life at Farthingly.

  What purpose could Bingley, Jane, and Darcy have for keeping Bonnie’s heritage from the mistress of Pemberley?

  Thirteen

  ~

  Darcy was anything but frosty despite element of tension throughout supper, for silence had hung in the air with merely polite exchanges and little eye contact between those present. Lydia had sent word to say she was suffering a pained head and had declined attendance at table, and Georgiana had confirmed Lydia was looking a little pale. Though in truth Lydia was tamping her toes in response to Jane’s curt tone within the carriage; the ride home a very quiet journey indeed. Rebellion of some sort was inevitable given Lydia’s bent to silence and fierce exchange of eye contact, thus her outburst on exiting the carriage duly set precedence for having harboured bitter grievance on the homeward journey. Notice she would take her leave the day after the morrow, thanks to Darcy’s sovereigns, required addressing but not until the young madam had cooled her temper somewhat.

  Jane subdued, and clearly affected by it all had escaped to her chamber as soon as setting foot inside the house, whilst Georgiana had set to in profuse apology for having caused family discord. Then in like manner to the others Georgiana fled to her chambers and it seemed as though all had fallen foul to tears, whilst Elizabeth Darcy, the one with true cause for grievance was left utterly alone. Hence, with mind in turmoil in how best to resolve the terrible impasse that had befallen them, tears had welled and she too had sought sanctuary in the marital suite.

  Come supper all but Lydia in attendance and with supper at end both Jane and Georgiana had raised excuses to retire to bed early. Thus merely Bingley and Darcy graced the drawing room for coffee, in part to keep company with her. No doubt they would have much preferred to retire to the gaming room and partake of a few rounds of billiards on the baize with brandy at hand.

  Discourse at present seemed a little strained with Darcy prompting his guest, and Bingley standing alongside Darcy at the fireplace, neither aware they were blocking warmth reaching out to her from the hearth. And in like to Jane, Bingley had avoided eye contact with the mistress of Pemberley by gazing into his cup.

  Something was afoot, and bursting to know what it was she opened her mouth to speak and Bingley stole the moment. “It’s been a long day, and if you wouldn’t mind, an early night would see me well for the morrow.”

  “Of course,” rallied Darcy, “quite a day all told, and much achieved.”

  “Indeed, forgive me Elizabeth.” Bingley placed his cup and saucer to the occasional table, bowed, and departed the room.

  A moment or two and Darcy relinquished his leaning pose to the over-mantel, settled beside her on the chaise and said: “I sense all is not well in the female quarter of this house, is it permissible to enlighten me?”

  If only, if only she could summon courage of old to confront him over Belle and Bonnie, but when he looked at her as now, she bore no wish to burst forth with barbed tongue and perhaps sever a bond that may bring them closer together in a short while and edge Belle farther distant. “Lydia and Jane had a little falling out, and Lydia is bent on taking leave from Pemberley the day after the morrow.”

  “Be assured, such will not come to pass, for this very evening I browsed the mail delivered, and have it on good authority a carriage will arrive on Saturday to convey her to Somerset, perhaps a day beforehand.”

  “Heavens; a letter from Wickham?”

  “Indeed that is so, though the why of it I know not, except to say, all their trappings from Newcastle will be aboard and if she has need to change her apparel, she will know which trunk requires unloading when the carriage arrives out front. He insists the carriage must leave within the half hour of estimated time
of arrival around two after noon from the mews.”

  “No explanation?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Why from the mews?”

  “It occurred to me Wickham is travelling with the coach and bears no wish to impose and thereby show face in Georgiana’s company.”

  “Oh but Georgiana has quite outgrown that episode involving Wickham, so much so, she teases my sister by calling her Lydia Wickham. I believe your sister’s heart dwells with a certain viscount; the son of Lady Sanders favoured beau.”

  Incredulity etched on his visage, Darcy seemed lost for words. “Dolby?”

  “It seems the pair exchange regular correspondence with one another, and I did sense shared affections which Lady Sanders suggested would be genuine for the viscount’s part.”

  “Good Lord, young Lieutenant Dolby, Viscount Welton? Well I cannot say I disapprove of the fellow. By all accounts he’s a first class officer and I’ll vouch for the fact he is a gentleman of the finest order.”

  “Then there is every reason to encourage the match.”

  “Indeed, Elizabeth, indeed and a fine match it would be, for his allowance and inheritance is not to be sniffed at. A fine earldom and Scottish estate awaits that young man.”

  “He is an officer, we are at war, and dreadful incidents do occur.”

  “True enough; and that is the very same sentiment put forth by Belle in recent weeks to do with the dashing father.”

  “Are you saying you approve of the earl, whom Georgiana swears is a suitor for Lady Sander’s hand?”

  “I can think of no better fellow.”

  “Then—then a future marriage with Lady Sanders has nothing to do with begetting an heir, and instead, implies love is the main object of the affair.”

  “I never assumed otherwise.”

  Stunned by Darcy’s remark and inner desire to see Lady Sanders wed to another man, she asked: “Does the selling of Farthingly have a part to play in this love tangle?”

  “In as much as a substantial inheritance has come her way which entails property a good deal closer to the earl’s primary estate situated in Buckinghamshire, his Scottish seat that essentially the viscounts.” Darcy braced his shoulders and stretched his neck as though his necktie was too tight, a trait she had noticed when the topic of discourse fell distasteful or he was indifferent to it. “One cannot blame the man for trying his utmost to convince her to marry him and thereby merge their property holdings, but whether he will succeed is another matter entirely.”

  “Are you of mind she will risk scandal and become his mistress?”

  “There is much to recommend the notion, for Belle takes no heed of scandal bandied about by others. Nor is she a woman who wishes to lose control of her own property and financial independence.”

  “It is true a woman as fortunate as she may pick and choose of favoured gentlemen. What is more, as mistress to a widower with an established heir, such an arrangement will barely raise an eyebrow within the upper echelons of the haut monde for there is no wife to suffer the humiliation of marital betrayal. Nonetheless, within the lower orders of the ton an affair of that nature will undoubtedly do more than incite a fluttering of fans.”

  Darcy burst into laughter. “My dear Elizabeth, there are those within the beau monde who will cheer her on, to the extent the machinations of the desperate mama’s seeking to gain the earl’s favour for daughters, who, as you rightly marked, will set to with outlandish gossip. In turn those sorely ambitious mamas will be ridiculed as mean-minded portents of doom, their wont merely to raise the infamy of the woman. Fortunately for you and I, no title existed to encourage great sense of competition for the dour Mr. Darcy. Aside from which, my aunt’s old English mastiff spirit ensured I escaped undue attention as a potential suitor. Though it can be said, who would dare to outwit and challenge Lady de Bourgh’s intents, but a fiery person such as the one who considered herself my equal and duly sought every means at hand to place herself in my path?”

  “I did no such thing. Not once did I cross your path with intent.”

  “I beg to differ,” said he, a broad smile, “and I forgave you every one of your little ploys.”

  “Ploys?” To her feet in an instant, Darcy likewise, she would not be insulted with untruths. “I never sought your attentions, and duly confess I sought every means to justify why I disliked you so intensely at the start. You were the epitome of all that I abhorred in those of yours and Lady de Bourgh’s characters. The mere presumed superior intellect and supercilious nature you embodied sickened my very soul. The way you prowled around a room with an eye to those you perceived as riffraff, which marked us as distasteful to your high principled belief you had entered the domain of the great unwashed and uneducated county set. And yet, in truth, your wealth, and the wealth of the Duke of Devonshire is attributed to business enterprises earned from the skills of the county set, the professional middling gentry, land tenancies, craftsmen, and last but not least, the men working the quarries, the mines, and the land of great estates, not to mention overseas business activities of a dubious bent.”

  Darcy flinched not at all. “Then you disapprove of this house, its land, and my business interests, the monies accumulated to pay wages, the monies to pay those professionals, the craftsmen, and the traders. Therefore you must abhor the monies that now furnish us with the life we live. Would you have me relinquish it all, sell it piece-meal, give away plots of land to the poor, and retain but a small acreage and reap two-thousand a year as does your father? Are you willing to once again live as you did before, or as Lydia does, for though it goes against my inner self to indulge acts of violence, I could do as I did for Wickham; purchase officer rank within the regular army and thereby rarely darken your door? God knows there were times I had wished for an elder brother. Therefore this estate and all who work it would never have become my responsibility. Nor would imposition of moral duty to retain all as it is for future generations have befallen me, and by that I refer to all who work for this estate.”

  She had no ready answer to his accusations, her bitterness toward Belle and his seeming attachment to the woman thus setting precedence for mean-minded onslaught, when all she had to do was ask one question: “Who is Bonnie, and what is she to you?”

  There, she had asked, and Darcy’s expression chilled her blood as did a long portentous silence. Incredulity etched on his face, he finally asked: “Who told you?”

  “No one, I merely heard tell of the name in passing.”

  “No detail, nothing about her?”

  “Nothing, and why would that be, unless you purposely strived to keep Bonnie’s birth a secret from me.”

  “I shall not deny I have endeavoured to keep Bonnie out of the limelight, though quite willing to declare she is five years old, a beautiful creature at that, and I happened to be present at her birth. It was one of those strange circumstances of foul conditions blowing in from the south west and Belle suggested I stay the night. At around two of morn I was awoken to the sound of much activity in the corridor and on investigation it was said the birth was nigh, and Belle was below and dreadfully distraught. It was a difficult birth, and not without fears of imminent disaster but all turned out well and Bonnie won hearts from the moment she was born. Whilst you have perceived the worst of me, I shall not venture farther in due respect to Bonnie. To say she has become a prized possession is to understate my esteem for her determination to survive a recent near disaster, which could so easily have resulted in her death. Therefore I shall not cast her off even if you disapprove and relinquish any notion to accept her for what she is.”

  “What right have I as your wife to reject Bonnie when she was born long before I became mistress of Pemberley? The why and the wherefore is of no concern to me, of that I am well aware.”

  “Good, then it is a problem resolved, and no more shall be said on the matter.”

  If nothing else Darcy had the ability to disgrace one’s spite and turn around a tense momen
t to his advantage, and she could never sanction any notion of coming between a child and its father: not as wicked step-mothers in fairytales were prone. Oh how she remembered her father reading aloud the snow maiden and the apple from Lo cunto de li cunti by Gian Alesio Abbattutis, later exposed as Giambattista Basile. There were always moments when father faltered as though having forgotten Italian words, and years later had then confessed to missing out on horrid bits he had thought would frighten her and Jane.

  “Is all well between us?” said Darcy, in stepping closer thus drawing her from momentary reverie. “I sense this day has been somewhat of a trial for you. The crux, if there be one defining thing above all others, I pray it is not on my account. It would grieve me to discover I have in any way offended you or caused undue distress.”

  To bear a grudge against him for a past deed was pitiful, but dare she ask that one last question?

  “Elizabeth, I sense there is a matter you wish to air before we retire aloft.” His hand alighting to her cheek in gentle caress served to enhance his words: “I cannot be other than I am, and whilst I love you as I have never had the pleasure before, we have the habit of sparking off each other in heated exchange.”

  “Indeed we do, and I will ask but one thing and never raise the like again. Does our marriage fulfil your needs in every way?”

  “If by that you are asking is there another woman in my life, though pray to heaven that is not the wont of it. Aside from which, I duly confess, to my utter shame, sparring in fiery manner stirs the very devil in my loins. Therefore, the joys to be had within the marital bedchamber would greatly satisfy a burgeoning need at present, and if I may be so bold, the sooner the better.”

  “You did not answer the question.”

  “The devil be damned, Elizabeth, there is no one else.”

  Without another word his lips possessed hers, his embrace as fierce as his words, the passionate kiss setting her aflame with desire to respond in like manner. All the former heartache in belief Belle meant more to him than his wife took flight, and Bonnie would never be scorned by the mistress of Pemberley.