“I do not think she would have cowered from him.”
“You do not appreciate how vicious he can be. If she proved unmovable, he would hurt her family. Mr. Bennet is not, shall we say, commanding. No, he could not withstand the demands of a duke pounding at his door. My father would do anything to stop the marriage. Even her seven thousand pound dowry would have been deficient for him, not to mention her lack of those connections he deems necessary for his heir. Neither connections nor fortune matter to me. I had to maintain a sort of duplicity; my pretense protected her. I required that no one believed I would pursue marriage. I only thought of her, and I care not what anyone thinks about me. Let them call me a scoundrel or rake or any other disrespectful name. I know the truth, and when we wed, all suspicions would have disappeared.”
“I witnessed how attentive you were to her and how she responded. I am surprised you did not express your intentions to her.”
“We had plans to meet the day after Bingley’s ball at a secluded spot, away from protective friends. Remember, you interrupted us on the balcony as I was about to reveal my feelings to her, and then you opened the door and I made alternate plans.”
Darcy sensed the heat rising on his cheeks.
“I waited all day for her to arrive. I intended to offer marriage. I was ready to explain the situation with my father. I had hoped she would, with the blessing of her family, marry quickly, or even elope. Once done, my father would have little recourse. I would have even given up my title for her. I care not to be called Lord Blake if it meant she was my wife.”
“Oh.”
“I often dreamed she called me Robert. I do not believe titles were important to her. Of course, when my father dies, his title will go to me. Until then, I could be content to while away the hours in her company. I needed nothing else—not money, title, nor business.”
“May I ask what happened?”
“She never came, so I went to Longbourn late that afternoon.”
Darcy sat upright.
“She ran away from me. Her mother explained how she left for London with her father that morning to avoid something. Me. Blake’s voice faded out on the last word.
Darcy opened his mouth, paused, and chose instead to hold his words back when Blake continued to speak.
“I had planned to propose marriage in front of her mother. She would not allow Miss Elizabeth to reject my offer. For the second time in my life, I was found to be unworthy.”
“Second time?”
Blake nodded. “Lady Beatrice from Chesterfield.”
“Oh.”
“I never had the opportunity to propose to her either; a friend divulged my intentions to my father, and he immediately took charge. I refuse to forgive Lord Atterton for his officious behavior.”
“What happened with Lady Beatrice?’
She did not have the fortune my father deemed necessary, hers was a mere twenty thousand pounds. He sought her out and informed her that she was not acceptable, and that he would never condone or approve the marriage. He threatened to take away my title and remove me from his home, without ever revealing my own holdings. He convinced her she would be better off seeking another. She had cared for me, but she sought security over happiness. My father threatened her family until they relented. Today, I am glad I did not offer for her. I was young and inexperienced. She turned out to be just like all the other London social climbers. This is why I know what he would have done to the Bennets.”
Darcy winced. He glared at the flames dwindling down and hurried to rekindle the fire. He pushed the poker around for several minutes.
Blake interrupted the silence. “It is all for naught.”
“Are you positive she would refuse you if you spoke directly to her?”
“Yes. There can be no other explanation. She clearly understood the reason for meeting me the next morning.”
“You may be wrong. Why not seek the truth from her? If she is in town, what keeps you from seeking her out?”
“I assumed she discovered my family situation, and then coupled with her own financial loss, I suspect she just avoided having to give me an answer. I had never revealed my personal wealth. I have broken off any connection with her, and I do not wish to see her again.”
“I have doubts about her running away. I witnessed how she gazed upon you whenever you entered the room and how delighted she was when you two spoke.”
Blake held up his hand. “Do not say another word about her.”
Darcy approached him, and placed his hand upon Blake’s shoulder.
“By your expression, Darcy, you appear to want to ask me something further. Is there anything else you need to know?”
“I would still like to call you friend. Will you call me one as well, even though I know I do not deserve the name?”
Blake saw the sincerity in his countenance and quickly nodded. He massaged his chin. “I hope never to be in fight with you again. You should have chosen boxing as your game.”
His servant returned precisely one hour later; Darcy waved him away and then turned to Blake, “Why did you come here tonight?”
“To report to you that my father is demanding I drop all association with Kent and Bingley.”
“Is he aware of the alliance?”
“Not that he said. He did read about the games in the newspapers, which identified Bingley and Kent and their backgrounds. I swear my father was mad, almost insane, at the mere thought I would attach myself to tradesmen. He belittled them ever since I was a toddler. He calls them cheats and liars to their faces. He hates tradesmen of any sort. And that was not the only issue that upset him; he had heard rumors of my attraction to someone there. He was adamant even before the ball that I return home and then after someone passed along a report I had danced the Waltz, his demands became more threatening. He was anxious to introduced me to this new lady he had arranged for me. She is a wealthy woman who fits his criteria for a perfect match.”
“What will you do?”
“I decided to ignore my father and create my own fortune. I needed the thirty percent I won. I demanded it because I thought only of her. I wanted to give her a dukedom. I wanted all the things wealth could provide. I wanted to see her in the jewels and gowns a duchess should wear. I did not want anyone to speak ill of her. She… ”
“But you said you had sufficient wealth.”
Blake sighed. “When the heir to a dukedom makes an offer of marriage, everyone expects it to be backed up with enormous wealth. I could not bear seeing Miss Elizabeth as a future duchess living in a small country estate. I wanted to offer her more, much more.”
“Will you be leaving our alliance?” Darcy asked, his voice shaky.
“No. Even now, even without her, I understand how important it is to support my title with wealth. I always comprehended what duty and obligation involved, at least in my mind. Now I am acutely aware what the responsibility embodies. This is why I will remain a partner and do so without regard to or complaint about the tradesmen’s sons.” He hesitated. “Mingling in business is just not done. My estate is producing well enough, but even you fear for the future. Trade may be beneath us, yet it can be good and honorable.”
Darcy nodded. “Bingley and Kent are perfect examples of that presumption.”
“I understand you would prefer not to be involved with tradesmen, and as such, must conceal the partnership from our peers. We are above them, and that is what makes this so difficult. Listen, Darcy. I warn you, I cannot withstand much more adversity.”
“And the lady your father selected for you?”
“Oh, and I will not marry this latest dressed up bag of coins. That is definite. Unless I find another woman as worthy as Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I will not marry at all.
Chapter Six
Bingley approached the Somerset House, home of the Royal Society, where James Watt was attending a meeting of its members or Fellows as they called each other.
In 1660, the crown and parliament had sanction
ed the Royal Society of London for the Improvement of Natural Knowledge, now known as The Royal Society. All great men of science belonged to it and shared their current successful pursuits, and on occasion, their failures as well. The Society met weekly where the members met to discuss the exciting discoveries of the day or serve as witnesses to experiments.
He imagined his uncle standing in front of all these other men of knowledge expounding on the future benefits of steam. He could not hold back the chuckle at the, thought of how his uncle could ramble about any subject.
Standing in front of the generously proportioned building with its copious windows, he imagined what it must have been like when it was the home of the Queen many years ago or when lavish parties and entertainments for the royal court here. He had heard many stories about the goings on. He surveyed the massive neoclassical palace that housed the Navy Board and the three principal learned societies: the Royal Society, the Royal Academy of Arts, and the Society of Antiquaries.
Entering the door on the east side of the building, Bingley climbed the staircase where upon reaching the top he tried to remember which apartments were used by the Royal Society and which were occupied by the Antiquaries.
“Sir, may I direct you?” A well dressed, yet somewhat disheveled, gentleman appeared. His arms were full of papers and journals of which any number of them was ready to tumble to the floor.
Bowing, Bingley said, “Royal Society, kind sir. May I help with those?”
“I am heading that way.” The gentleman pointed to the left with his head as he handed a couple of the journals to the young man.
The two men moved to the left leading to the meeting room. Bingley opened the door allowing the scholarly fellow to proceed in first. Once inside, he abruptly stopped to glare in awe of the room. Perched along the back wall a man sat on a throne-like chair and directly in front of him stood a long bench filled with strange looking objects. Apparently, Bingley thought, there is to be an experiment today. Rows of benches, similar to the pews in church adorned each side of the room, filled with a wide variety of men. A few were dressed in the highest fashion, others, without regard to the latest cut of the clothes or tie of cravat.
Two rows of portraits of distinguished looking men hung on the walls of the oversized room and the many chandeliers’ light highlighted a clear view of their images clearly. He recognized several men in the paintings, including the uncle he had come to see; ‘however, most of the subjects were nameless faces of men of a different era.
Bingley handed the journals to someone who had quickly come to aid them. Now empty-handed, he searched the attendees for his uncle until he spotted him sitting alone in the third row. James Watt, at that exact moment, turned towards him and waved him over. Bingley joined him as the presentation commenced, not aware of the subject under discussion. The topic was unknown to him and he did not understand what was happening. However, his uncle was enthralled and did not speak for a full hour until the experiment ended and the presenter spoke the final word. Uncle and nephew snuck away for refreshments and conversation at a coffee shop located not far from the Royal Society.
“Did you see those strutting peacocks, walking around as if they were true men of knowledge? Bah.”
“Pardon me, uncle? I do not follow you.”
“I beg your pardon, my boy. When Sir Joseph Banks became president, he allowed wealthy amateurs full membership along with their pretentiousness filling the air and subjecting the true Fellows to unquestionable drivel and poppycock. Sir Joseph thinks we need patrons. I know we do, my boy, we do. Allow them to think they are equal? We will never do that regardless of our need for money.” Watt caught his breath. “None of us is able to conduct our experiments without a great deal of money. The presentation today will cost too much for any poor man of science to cover. Fortunately, there was no drivel spoken today; today a man of knowledge conducted the experiment. Did you understand what he did? No, well he was demonstrating the possibility of an electric light. So many patrons believe gas will light the world, instead I prefer to think it will be electricity. Then again, Ben Franklin championed that concept and expounded upon it in his letter to the Lunar Society.” Watt paused and gazed at his nephew. “Beg your pardon. I do go on sometimes. Why did you wish to see me today?”
“Now that you have mentioned the Lunar Society, Uncle James, I… would… like…”
“Charles, take a breath. Spit it out, boy. You have not spoken so slowly since the first time you gazed upon a young lady with a man’s mind.
“I would like to bring Lord Blake and Mr. Darcy to your next Lunar Society meeting. I understand you will be holding it in London this month.”
“Did you say you want to bring gentlemen to the meeting?”
“Yes, sir. Lord Blake and Mr. Darcy. They are my friends.”
“I have heard you often refer to Mr. Darcy. I do not recollect a single mention of Lord Blake.” Watt studied his nephew’s reaction. “I fear the other three members may object. You know we are a bunch of old Whigs! I am positive they are Tories.”
“We do not discuss politics. Not since our Cambridge days. Mr. Darcy and I are friends I assure you, sir. Lord Blake may at times be conscious of his higher standing; still, he has never shown anything other than friendship to me.”
“You were in an educational environment, where the barriers between students are often blurred. You know, Charles, men born of rank are not always willing to socialize with those below their station. Will he not look down upon my group? We are not of the nobility, nor are we estate owners. We do not belong to those circles.”
“Lord Blake has never shun or cut me at any ball or other social function. Lately, we have all been together at Netherfield Park.”
“Oh, yes, I read about the competition, and I was prudent not to wager on my own family member.”
Bingley lowered his head to conceal a fast spreading blush he felt was rising on his cheeks.
Watt grinned. “You know, my boy, I may risk funds on uncertain endeavors of scientific nature, but I never risk it on games of chance. Now tell me, what else occurred at your country home? You went there primarily on business, I recall; something about the rifle.”
Bingley proceeded to explain what had transpired during his stay in Hertfordshire. He laid out the entire enterprise and the roles for each of the members. He announced they had signed agreements for a true partnership, and grinned when he revealed how desirable his friends had found the Baker rifle.
Watt remained quiet as Bingley spoke, occasionally smiling at the stories of the games, and even releasing a snort of pleasure at the description of tup running.
Bingley felt himself gradually transforming back into the quiet man with slumped shoulders, downturned lips he had become lately, and had assumed his eyes had grown as dull and lifeless as he saw the world. He could not push himself back to his old self. He did not try too hard.
“Who is she, Charles?”
“No one, sir.”
“Nonsense. You are sporting that forlorn expression again.”
Bingley sighed. “Her name is Miss Bennet. I am only dismayed because she did not return my feelings.”
“I am sorry, my boy. I hope she was at least gentle when she turned you down.”
“You mistake me. She did not turn me down since I did not make her an offer. I would never put her in an awkward position of that nature. I… respect her too much.”
“Oh?”
Bingley sighed and returned to staring at an invisible point far away. “She is the most handsome lady of my acquaintance. She deserves a marriage to someone of higher status. She is a gentleman’s daughter and possesses all the grace and beauty of a countess. I am nothing more than a tradesman’s son.”
A World of Expectations_Book 2_The Confrontation Page 8