The Honorable Mr. Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  “She would be quite the conquest…”

  Darcy did not let him finish his vile speech. Heaving all of his weight into his arm, he packed a blow so hard to Mr. Tanner’s face, the man went sprawling back, breaking a chair as he crashed to the floor.

  Darcy had warned him.

  Chapter 29

  Darcy's knuckles stung and stabs of pain raced up his forearm. Mr. Tanner had felt it too. He held the side of his face, the skin already swollen and red under his calloused fingers.

  Stepping to the side to give himself more time to react should Mr. Tanner decide to retaliate, it surprised Darcy to hear a guttural chuckle where threats should have been made.

  Wiggling his jaw from side to side, Mr. Tanner said, "I underestimated you, I see."

  Still irate, Darcy said, "Never speak slightingly about Miss Elizabeth. She is a lady, and as someone who has known her for most of his life, I expected more from you. She deserves your respect, sir."

  Dropping his hands from his face, Mr. Tanner sprung to his feet and stood to his full height. "You have it on my honor, Mr. Darcy. I hold Miss Elizabeth in the highest regard and only said what I did to see what your intentions toward her were."

  “You have a strange way of going about it,” Darcy complained.

  Mr. Tanner nodded. “We are from different worlds, Mr. Darcy, but I felt your sincerity.” He reached up and winced as he touched his puckered cheek.

  Going around the counter, he pulled out two tankards, filling them to the brim and setting one before Darcy. What a strange man. One moment he acted as if he hated Darcy, and the next moment he offered him beer. Still, Darcy was grateful for the drink. Raising his glass, he drank.

  "We can see everyone who drives into Meryton from that direction," said Mr. Tanner, pointing out of the window at the front of his building. "We will not miss the Bennets' carriage."

  Darcy sat on a stool facing the window and the front door. "You see everything going on from here," he observed.

  "Aye. It is why the villagers continue to elect me as their constable. Not a thing goes on in Meryton I do not eventually hear about." He pulled more tankards and glasses out from under the counter along with a clean, white linen. Wiping the rims carefully one by one, he continued, "That is what has me so puzzled about Mr. Wickham's murder. He seemed like an amiable sort, but I have seen too many of his kind. They are accustomed to living a life of leisure at the expense of others and feel the world owes them a living."

  He did not need to say anything more for Darcy to understand his meaning. He had thought Darcy was the same— a comparison which Darcy could not allow. "Wickham grew up on my family's estate at Pemberley. Being my father's godson, he was given more advantages than he could have hoped for without Father’s patronage."

  Mr. Tanner gripped a glass so tightly, Darcy feared he would break it.

  When he said nothing, Darcy continued. "Instead of using the opportunities given him to establish himself in a gentlemanly occupation, he resorted to manipulations and scheming devices so he could live a life of leisure whilst pursuing all the vices he could presume to afford."

  "Your father put up with it?" Mr. Tanner asked.

  Darcy felt his shoulders tense. Father's leniency where Wickham was concerned had been one of the many bones of contention they had debated over the years. "He did." He offered no excuses. There were none.

  Mr. Tanner set down the glass he had polished to transparency. "You did not approve?"

  "Of course not. Wickham was given all the advantages of a gentleman without any of the responsibilities. It ruined him."

  "What do you hold against him, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

  Darcy considered Mr. Tanner. It was an honest question lacking accusation.

  "I cannot give details. However, he hurt someone vulnerable. A young lady innocent in the ways of the world." Darcy's chest tightened at the memory of Georgiana's tears when he had separated them. She had resented him at first, believing herself in love. She had been convinced Wickham loved her in return. When she realized his attachment depended on his need for her dowry, it had been devastating.

  "A relative?" pressed Mr. Tanner.

  "My little sister," said Darcy, tossing back the rest of his ale. He could not explain why he said it, but he knew his secret was as safe with Mr. Tanner as it was with Miss Elizabeth.

  Mr. Tanner leaned against the counter, strangling the linen in his fist.

  "You have a younger sister?" Darcy ventured.

  Such a look of pain crossed Mr. Tanner's features, Darcy regretted the question.

  "Aye," he said softly.

  "Then you understand what it is like. I remember when she was born. She was so small and defenseless, yet she latched onto my finger with the strength of a vise. I was a lad then, but I promised I would not let anyone or anything harm her. When Wickham was found shot through the heart, all I could think was that he could no longer hurt her." He stopped, his throat tight.

  "What is her name?" Mr. Tanner asked tenderly.

  "Georgiana."

  Mr. Tanner nodded. "A daughter named Georgiana and a godson named George. I wonder why your father did not name his firstborn after him as well." His voice carried an edge to it, but he was not as defensive as he had been.

  Darcy sighed. "My father's vanity had its limits, thank the heavens and all that is good. I would have loathed to share the same Christian name as Wickham."

  Darcy heard the clopping of hooves and the jingles of harnesses.

  Mr. Tanner stretched his neck to better see. "It is Mr. Bennet," he observed.

  Sighing in relief, Darcy watched the carriage as it crossed the square in the direction of Colonel Forster's home. Now that Miss Elizabeth's anxiety would soon be soothed, he could ask what he had intended to Mr. Tanner.

  "You said you have suspicions. Do you care to share them?" he asked.

  Mr. Tanner narrowed his eyes, taking up another tankard to polish.

  After some long seconds, he said, "I will only be honest with you if you are honest with me."

  "Very well."

  "Why have you been so elusive about your whereabouts the night of the Netherfield Ball? I sense you are hiding something, but I am equally convinced it was not you who killed Mr. Wickham."

  Darcy grimaced. "Are there not enough leads to pursue? If you are convinced of my innocence, then why do you wish to know?"

  "To forever smother my doubts. There will be some who will argue that you arranged for the brick to be thrown through Miss Elizabeth's window in an effort to distract us from you…"

  Darcy's pulse pounded. "Whoever did that is a coward and deserves to be found out and punished."

  "I agree."

  Darcy weighed his options. "I will own that I do have a secret, but it is not mine alone. Otherwise, I would have been more forthcoming from the start."

  "You do realize how your refusal to cooperate was our main reason for suspecting you?"

  "I do. It changes nothing. I would no sooner prove disloyal to a friend for my own convenience than I suspect you would."

  He watched Mr. Tanner intently. His eyes remained steady, encouraging Darcy to continue. "Can I trust you to keep a secret for the benefit of a lady you respect?" He knew he had probably already said too much, but he would say no more without a guarantee.

  Mr. Tanner said, "On my honor. Especially if it involves Miss Elizabeth, as I suspect it does."

  Having no greater possession to swear by, Darcy was content. "If you break your promise and so much as whisper a word of what I am about to tell you, I will deny it. I will dig up the one thing you wish to keep hidden about yourself, and I will use it against you so your word could not stand against mine. Even here in Meryton."

  Folding his arms, Mr. Tanner said, "Unlike you, I do not have any secrets."

  "Everyone has secrets," Darcy countered.

  They stared each other until Mr. Tanner blinked. Tossing up his hands, he said, "Very well. You have my guarantee of
silence."

  There was no going back now. To be sure, it would be a relief to tell someone he could trust. Mr. Tanner of all people. "The clock struck midnight while I was in Mr. Bingley's library. The same library into which Miss Elizabeth, minutes before, had disappeared. She had fallen asleep on the sofa and before we could escape from our compromising situation, Mr. Bingley's housekeeper locked the room."

  "But you are partial to Miss Elizabeth. She would have to marry you if it were found out."

  Darcy pounded his fist against the counter. "Of course I am partial to her! She is everything my mother trained me to avoid in a lady: opinionated, clever, knowledgeable on subjects she ought not to be…. I have always thought her handsome, but it did not take long before I admired her mind even more than her beauty. To win the admiration of a lady such as she occupies my every thought, my every dream. But I cannot take away her freedom to choose whom she would bless with her love.”

  “You put her welfare ahead of your own?” asked Mr. Tanner, incredulity lacing his question with doubt.

  “I am depending on you to do the same for her sake. We were alone in the library for too long to avoid a compromise, and her only hope is that my whereabouts remain vague.”

  Mr. Tanner ran his hand through his hair, then leaned against the counter on his elbows. With a smile in his crinkled eyes, he said, “How did you get out if you were locked in?”

  Darcy could not hold back his grin as he remembered how they had argued. It had been a battle of wills which he had ultimately won— but only barely and with a bite mark. “I jumped out of the window and walked in through the front door as if I had stepped outside for some fresh air.”

  “Hmm… the gardener was right. Nobody saw you?”

  “Miss Bingley saw me come in.”

  Mr. Tanner’s eye, by now, had turned a dark shade of violet. He winced as his cheeks bunched up, but nothing could stop his laughter. He roared as loud as his cousin Richard.

  Darcy chuckled, but the matter was still too serious to indulge in with much glee.

  Finally catching his breath, Mr. Tanner said, “You are not at all what I supposed you to be, Mr. Darcy.”

  “I can only hope you mean that as a compliment. Now, I have held nothing back from you, we can solve this mystery once and for all. What can you tell me about Mrs. Yeats and what does she have to do with Mr. Stallard?”

  Chapter 30

  Mrs. Forster was disappointed when Kitty and Lydia did not join them, choosing to remain with Aunt Philips. She endured the company of Mary with dreamy glances out of the window and long-suffering sighs.

  Elizabeth was glad to see her family without the distraction of her younger sisters.

  “How did you convince Mr. Collins to stay behind?” she asked Father.

  With a crooked grin and a low chuckle, Father said, “It was easier than I thought it should be. Thankfully, his determination to identify who the murderer is and to protect his inheritance at Longbourn is far greater than his concern for your safety.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I am grateful for that!”

  “As am I, Lizzy. It is bad enough to know a fool shall inherit my estate, but it is worse for me to think he intends to marry one of my daughters when this trouble is resolved.”

  Mother, who had been admiring Mrs. Forster’s drawing room until that moment, exclaimed, “Mr. Bennet! You say the most astounding things! Of course he should marry one of our girls. Would you have us cast out of our home when you are no longer here to protect us?”

  Father knew better than to answer. She would not hear reason.

  “What if he proposes to Jane before Mr. Bingley has the chance?” asked Elizabeth in a low voice meant to exclude Mrs. Forster from the intimate subject at hand.

  Jane’s cheeks flushed pink, but she watched Mother with the attention of a hawk. So did Elizabeth. She would not see the happiness of her sister ruined by a bumbling clergyman whose only recommendation was the security he could provide them at their father’s death.

  Mother sniffed. “Mr. Collins would do no such thing.”

  Everyone looked at her. As the eldest daughter, Jane would naturally be his first choice, despite the hints Mother had given to discourage that particular match.

  Looking around guiltily, Mother whispered, “I had hinted at it discreetly before, but I wanted to be certain Mr. Collins would leave you be so Mr. Bingley could court you. There may have been mention of a wedding….”

  Jane squeezed her eyes shut, her face flaming red.

  “You told a falsehood to a man of God?” exclaimed Mary, her complexion deepening to match Jane’s.

  Mother shrugged her shoulders. What did a little lie matter to her when she had five unmarried daughters? Elizabeth knew she ought to be as shocked as her sisters, but she understood Mother’s concern too well.

  “Now, where is Mr. Darcy? Have you been able to spend some time with him?” Mother asked, her eyes glued to the door she hoped he would walk through.

  “He is not here,” replied Elizabeth, sad to displease her mother so much. Sad he had gone. Even though she was safe under the colonel’s roof, with guards posted at all entrances, she felt Mr. Darcy’s absence more than she had believed possible. The air was heavier. The rooms were colder.

  “What! He is not here? Where is he then?” Mother said, plopping her fists on her round hips. She muttered, “After all I did to send her here. After all of my work to put them together.”

  Elizabeth sighed. Mother spoke as if nobody could hear her. Poor Mrs. Forster. What she must think of them!

  Father bunched his cheeks up, and looked at Mother under his bushy, white eyebrows. “It must be such a burden to you, my love, to manipulate affairs so well only to have your work undone.”

  Mother fanned her face with her hand. “You have no idea what I suffer, Mr. Bennet. If only I could see my girls settled.”

  She did appear to be suffering at that moment. Her cheeks flushed, and she continued flapping her hand in front of her face by the fireplace.

  Feeling it best to change the subject to one more agreeable to their hostess, Elizabeth asked, “Why did Lydia and Kitty not come?”

  Mary’s face pinched, and Jane looked out of the window facing the street with a sigh.

  Mother perked up in her chair. “They stayed to help Mrs. Philips. She is to have a card party this afternoon, and she has invited several officers. I am certain Mr. Denny shall propose to one of them!”

  “You do not know to whom he will propose? Has he not shown a preference?” asked Elizabeth, her question biting with sarcasm.

  Father added, “It is of no matter, Lizzy. Whether he chooses Lydia or Kitty, I shall give my blessing gladly. He must lack sense to want a silly wife, and so it does not signify which one he shall choose for both are equally silly.”

  “You cannot mean that, Father. How would they live?” she asked.

  Father rolled his eyes, gazing beyond the ceiling. “They shall have to live on the ardor of their affection, myself being unable to give them anything more than my blessing.”

  “Love is the most sacred of all emotions, but it will not put bread on the table,” mumbled Mary.

  Elizabeth had to agree. The tender emotion could so easily turn into hatred when the stomach grew hungry and there was no money to pay the rent. And she doubted Lydia— and quite possibly Kitty as well— loved Mr. Denny. Theirs would be a superficial attachment which would fade with their looks as the years passed. Elizabeth refused to settle for a man to whom she could not give her complete heart. A man she could trust implicitly with her being, with whom she longed to share every waking moment.

  Mrs. Forster left the room to request tea with cakes and sandwiches, and Mother prattled in the background. Elizabeth was too wrapped up in her thoughts to pay her much attention. That was, until Mother said Mr. Darcy’s name.

  “What?” asked Elizabeth when it became clear that Mother expected an answer.

  “I said that with an estate the si
ze of Pemberley and ten thousand pounds a year, Mr. Darcy’s wife would never have to suffer want. I daresay he would take care of his family… and the family of the wife he chooses to marry.”

  Grimacing in distaste, Elizabeth replied, “Mr. Darcy is not the sort of man to allow himself to be taken advantage of. I doubt he would be content to marry simply for convenience, otherwise he would have married by now.”

  Father looked at her so intently, she struggled to keep her composure. “He sounds very similar to someone else I know, do you not agree?”

  She swallowed hard. “Perhaps, though a few commonalities hardly guarantee a strong foundation on which a strong love and respect may grow.”

  He sat back, crossing his arms and his feet leisurely. “True, but I have known happy marriages to flourish on less.”

  Elizabeth tried not to let her father’s questions disturb her. She admired Mr. Darcy, but her opinion of him was so recently changed and there was yet much about him she wished to know. If their secret was found out, it would not be the end of the world. Not anymore. But that was not how she wanted to start a marriage. She wanted complete, whole-souled, unhindered love. Was that too much to hope for?

  “Let us not speak of the heart now. Our concern is for Lizzy’s welfare,” said Jane, her soothing voice like a balm on Elizabeth’s turbulent heart.

  “Yes, I mean to call on Miss Stallard again today,” she said.

  “Will you be allowed?” asked Mary.

  “I should think so. I am not accused of any crime and am only here for my safety. I hardly see the danger in calling on Miss Stallard to ask her some questions.” She did not voice her suspicions toward Mr. Stallard, but decided she had best not call unaccompanied. What a pity Mrs. Yeats was too occupied with Kitty and Lydia. Aunt Philips could not go either, as she had a card party at her home.

  “I will go with you,” offered Father. Quickly, he added, “I have not conversed much with Mr. Stallard of late, and it would be a neighborly gesture to pay a call.”

  Grateful for his thoughtfulness in discerning her predicament, Elizabeth thanked him.