As he stood on the steps waiting for his carriage, Rawlings thumbed through a book on the American government he had purchased earlier.
“I did not know you were reading these days.”
Rawlings snapped his head around at his brother’s voice. “I have a long trip ahead. What do you want, Thomas.”
“I need to talk you out of this madness. You cannot be serious about going overseas. Why would you go there?”
Rawlings smirked. “I am looking for a place where second sons can be just as important as first sons.”
“Do not be such an addle brain. You only need to marry well, and there are many fine ladies available for the picking.”
“Perhaps they are what you want—women using you for a title—making them a different sort of whore.”
“Gerald. Perhaps your friends find you clever and witty, except to me you are just an ill-bred buffoon.”
“Really? You think that? Well, then you should have offered yourself to Margaret. She would have loved your title.”
“Do not twist my words, brother. She wanted Darcy, and she ended up with you, which explains why she was so angry that night. I do not understand why you switched rooms!”
“I needed the money, something you do not understand. I know you set Darcy up. Do you wish to confess your sins now?”
Thomas glared back with a wicked smile upon his face. He shrugged, offering no details.
Rawlings scoffed. “May your Christine be everything that Margaret was to me. My next wife will be someone entirely different than an ice maiden of London.” He turned towards his brother and looked him in the eye. “Do not bother me again, Thomas. I hope I do not see you for a long time, perhaps even for the rest of my life. I would rather Kent or Bingley be my brother.” He slammed the gate so hard the gilded 'W' upon it shook before he stepped into his carriage and when he looked back his brother stood with his hands on his hips.
“Fool. You will learn the hard way which class of people has the power in this world.” Thomas yelled.
Rawlings remained upset when he approached Darcy House. Feeling the need to shake off his premonition that the future was not as bright as it has seemed at Netherfield, he sought his friend’s assurance that all would be well. When he arrived, he learned Bingley had shared dinner with the Darcys and had remained for drinks in Darcy’s study.
“Good evening, Darcy, Bingley.” Rawlings entered the room and instantly frowned when he noticed the serious mien of the two men.
Darcy stood and moved to the sidebar. “Brandy?”
Rawlings nodded.
Bingley sighed. “I thank you for yesterday, Rawlings. Neither Kent nor I expect you to resign from your club.”
“Well, I lost my taste for it… or rather the members. I will be off to America shortly, and there is no telling for how long.” Rawlings shrugged. “It is of little consequence to me.”
Bingley presented him with a slight smile. “Kent suggested we start our own club.”
“Perhaps when I return, we can discuss it. Let him know I will consider doing so, as we would surely beat their high-class breeches off. They would never race with us though. They could not afford to lose.”
“You have our thanks, just the same.”
After gulping down his brandy, Rawlings studied his friends and then chuckled. “What is the conversation tonight? Shall I guess?” Rawlings laughed at Darcy’s scowl.
Bingley leaned back in his chair with his eyes directed at neither man. “I mentioned how much I delighted in the Hertfordshire trip. I enjoyed myself more than I ever thought possible and met many fine people.”
Rawlings peeked over his brandy glass. “Many, Bingley?”
Bingley nodded. “Well, yes, true. A few are finer than others.”
“Prettier too. When will you be going back?”
Bingley’s shoulders slumped. “I doubt if I will go back. Darcy pointed out the problems with returning.”
Rawlings clutched his glass. “Not return. Why not?” He glared at Darcy. “What is this about?”
“We were discussing the Bennets. I explained that Miss Bennet was merely acting upon her mother’s instructions.”
“And?”
“Miss Bennet is lovely, and was always polite and well mannered. Even so, I could not discern if her heart was touched by Bingley.”
Rawlings glared at Bingley. “What did you think?”
He sighed, his gaze remained down. “She did enjoy our talks, still, it is true she was just polite.”
“She gave you a scarf for the race, which is more than being just polite.”
“I requested it. Darcy and I talked about that. It seems everything between us was at my insistence.”
Rawlings moved to Bingley, placing his hand on his shoulder while sending a heated stare towards his other friend. “I disagree with Darcy. She seemed to like you in particular, Bingley.” He softened his voice and squeezed Bingley’s shoulder. “She is not a demonstrative person. You would be the only one to know how she felt.”
“She never was more than polite.” Bingley looked up and then shrugged.
“She is a polite girl,” Rawlings countered.
Darcy cleared his throat and shook his head. “Her mother—
“Yes, what about her mother?” Rawlings asked.
Bingley slumped further into his chair while the other two men challenged one another. He leaned over and hid his face in his hands.
“Did you not see how she dressed her girls? It was despicable.” Darcy said.
Rawlings caught his breath, took another swallow of brandy before returning to his chair. “I am sorry. Was it the quality of the material or the cut of the dress that has you so riled?”
“The cut of the dress! If it was cut much lower—”
Rawlings interrupted. “I beg to differ with you, Darcy. Our own dear Caroline Lamb and the rest of the Carlton House Set have shown more than the Bennets.”
“Humph. She only did as her mother demanded, I am sure of it. Mrs. Bennet pushed her daughters on us all. Bingley is just too accepting.” Darcy leaned back and crossed his arms.
“I do not understand the problem. If Bingley is happy, and you agree Miss Bennet shows him respect, then your ideals for a marriage have been met.”
“Not all. She has nothing to bring into the marriage except her beauty.”
“And her manners. They were impeccable. She is not a lively girl, Darcy.” Rawlings turned to Bingley. “You must consider her character before you say she is not truly interested.”
Bingley lifted his head. “She never, well, she never encouraged anything more than polite talk. Her mother was watching all the time. I think Darcy is correct. She is being forced towards me.”
Rawlings moved to the sideboard and poured another drink, this time with twice the amount. The two other men declined when he offered to refill their glasses.
Without looking at Rawlings, Bingley swirled the whiskey remnants around in his glass “I do not wish to see Miss Bennet forced into a marriage in order to please me or her mother.” He shook his head. “I could not bear living every day with someone that married me for security. Perhaps if I felt less for her, it would seem acceptable. I could not bear to have a marriage where the love existed on only one side, and I would loathe myself to see her compromise herself for me.”
Rawlings glared at Darcy. “You are cruel to do this. It is his life, not yours.”
“He needs to understand the ramifications of a loveless marriage, and one that does not bring either financial or social advancement to him. He has an unmarried sister, and his choice for a wife does matter.”
“Miss Bingley would find her way. She should not be a part of this discussion.”
“It is not a factor, Rawlings. I will not hurt Miss Bennet by making an offer she cannot refuse. With her dowry, she will be able to find someone more to her tastes.”
“Dowry?” Rawlings tilted his head with his right eyebrow raised. Darcy merely shook his
head and flashed a warning stare to him. Rawlings was not aware Miss Bingley had kept the Bennet loss from her brother. He presumed she did so because she believed her brother would have immediately proposed had he heard the news. She joked often about how as a child, he was always bringing injured kittens and puppies to the nursery. He would love them back to health.
“Well, I do not believe you, Darcy. Have you not learned anything from my marriage?”
“That is exactly what I am trying to save Bingley from—a loveless marriage arranged by a mercenary mother.”
“Mrs. Bennet is not the most mercenary mother by far. In fact, she waited until her girls showed an interest, and not the other way around. And if she was mercenary, she would have foisted a daughter on you or me. As I recall, she never pushed any girl your way. In fact, I believe Mrs. Bennet could not stand the sight of you. That is not the definition of a mercenary mother.”
“Did you not see their dresses? Did you not see what they displayed?”
“Yes, a mere suggestion of nipple. So? I found it quite seductive. And besides, you could only catch a glimpse when they exhaled and their skin separated slightly from their gown. Is this what you are referring to?”
“Yes, precisely. She put her daughters on display as if they were—”
“Whores. No, they are not. They revealed only a sliver, not so uncommon should you take the time to notice. The ladies of the Ton do so all the time. I suspect they even emphasize them somehow. Why is it you have just noticed this about the ladies. Whose nipple were you looking at?”
Bingley’s gasped. “You were looking at Miss Bennet, Darcy?”
“No.” Darcy scoffed.
“No, Bingley, he had no interest in her nipple. I myself fancied a younger one. She exhaled often, and I was able to discern it was quite pink.” Rawlings turned to Darcy. “Bingley will tell you that this is not the first one he has spied from a neckline.”
“Rawlings can we change the subject.” Darcy said, blushing.
“Bingley, make up your own mind.” Rawlings gulped his drink and slammed it down on the table. “I have had my fill of the machinations of higher society. I know my way out.” Rawlings left before either man could object.
Bingley fidgeted in his chair. “What if you are wrong, Darcy? Would I not be also hurting her if I do not return?”
“You will have to do exactly as Rawlings said. Make up your own mind. I gave you my views; he gave his. Now you must decide. Since you are the only one who ever spoke to her alone, you would know if she gave you that special look or treated you differently than us. I am just saying I did not see any indication she favored you.”
Bingley drank his whiskey slowly. After he was finished, he informed Darcy he would see him the next week. He did not wish to be rash in his decision.
Darcy stirred the fire and thought about the many different looks Jane had given to Bingley. Could I be wrong? Could she care for him?
His thoughts drifted away from Miss Bennet to her sister. He imagined her eyes sparkling in merriment at the squirrel burying the nut. The remembrance of a lavender scent that he had noticed at Netherfield Park filled his nostrils and then again when he had his lone dance with her. Images of the supper at the ball invaded his thoughts, and he felt a desire to pull her into his chest and kiss the top of her head, banishing all of her embarrassment.
Absentmindedly, he continued to stir the fire as his thoughts drifted to the other members of the Bennet family: the absent father, the scheming mother, the silly flirtatious younger sisters and then finally, the dishonest uncle in Cheapside.
“Impossible. I cannot attach myself to them.”
Chapter Five
Blake studied the guest his father had invited, and found himself, for once, in agreement—she was definitely beautiful. Her hair was dark, although in his mind, not dark enough. It was also straight, which was another problem. He preferred to see bobbing curls brushing his neck. Blake maintained his blank epression. Who was responsible for suggesting a man prefers a woman with no thoughts of her own? He did admire her figure. Her gown displayed it expertly with the most expensive silk, and her neck sparkled form the jewels, large and pretentious. He imagined seeing a simple red cross around her neck and scoffed.
The Duke of Charnwood introduced his son.
“Lady Eleanor, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Blake bowed, keeping his focus on her as she performed the perfect curtsey. She did not raise her eyebrow in silent inquiry, nor present him with a mischievous little smile. Her expression appeared as blank as models in the fashion magazines. Perhaps if they hired better artists, the women would show a little emotion on their faces. His father nudged him to escort her into the dining room. He stepped closer and detected a delicate fragrance about her. Wrong flower, my dear. You cannot win me with jasmine.
Blake offered his arm, and once she accepted, they fell behind his father. When His Grace glanced back at him, he nodded and he responded by presenting the same vacant look his partner did. Blake chuckled with sufficient volume to cause everyone nearby to turn.
“I beg your pardon, I was—
His father interrupted. “Enough, son. Let us sit.”
They found their places at the table and waited for His Grace to signal the footmen to pour the wine.
***
As the final hour ended, the door to Darcy’s house opened to find an inebriated Lord Blake standing on the step. The butler blocked him from entering.
“I need to speak to Mr. Darcy.”
“My master is not available.” Again, he put his body in such a way as to blocked the entrance.
“I demand a word with him.”
“Sir, perhaps you should return home. Mr. Darcy will contact you in the morning.”
Blake rose to his full height and glowered down at the butler. “I insist you announce me immediately. Inform him a problem has arisen that requires immediate resolution.”
“My orders were explicit, sir. You are not to be admitted, not tonight nor any time, until further notice.”
“Tell your master I need to speak to him now!” Blake pushed his way into the house, his hands clenched into fists. He glared at the servant, challenging him to touch his body in any way.
“Very good, sir. Please wait here.” The man pointed to the chair in the entrance hall as he moved swiftly to inform Mr. Darcy of his unexpected visitor.
When Darcy arrived shortly thereafter, Blake stood to greet him, expecting a welcome smile from an old friend, instead he gasped at the furrowed forehead and downturned mouth. He noticed the glower aimed in his direction, but before the marquess could speak, Darcy landed a right fist along his jaw.
“Throw him out,” he shouted to Geoffries, whose feet seemed frozen in place and appeared as stunned as the gentleman lying on the floor was shocked.
Blake propped his body up on one elbow. “What the hell this is all about, Darcy!”
Darcy walked away, stopping only to instruct his man to kick him out if need be, when Blake yelled in his loudest voice—
“Do not turn your back on me. I demand to know what my sin is to deserve such a greeting. I will call you out if need be.”
A World of Expectations_Book 2_The Confrontation Page 6