“How did he get off?”
“Fell right into the dirt. Slid right off the back end. He kept singing ‘I beg your pardon, sir’ in a strange womanish voice as he stared up at the underbelly of the horse.”.”
The laughter died down after a few moments, and the room grew still as they sheepishly peeked at Darcy. His face was hidden his hands while making sobbing sounds. Georgiana’s eyes grew wide, but the second her hand touched his arm, his head shot up and the loudest laugh she ever heard escaped his mouth.
Darcy smiled as he reached for his glass. “I wish I could have witnessed it too! And now I will accept bribes from my friends and family to maintain my silence, because I also have a large stock of stories, and I can tell much better narratives than that sorry little tale.”
They spent the evening sharing embarrassing moments, including ones Bingley knew about Caroline, and when the dinner neared its end, Darcy rose and held up his glass.
“I offer a toast to my wonderful family and friends for providing me with the most enjoyable dinner to celebrate my birthday.” Darcy bowed. “Thank you, my good men and thank you, my good ladies.”
His smile grew even wider as the woman with fine eyes who had hazily appeared to be sitting at the other end, holding her glass up in a birthday toast to him. Her right brow lifted and her eyes twinkled while her mouth curved slightly upwards. She nodded her head. However, just as suddenly, she vanished, leaving him feeling unaccompanied in a room full of people.
Chapter Twelve
Invitations to the Lord Dembry’s Twelfth Night ball had been sent around town with 1811 now ending. He jestingly called it The End of It All since it was the last event before the remaining families would depart for their country estates. London would not come alive again until Parliament opened and everyone returned to start the Season. Although Lord Dembry invited the Netherfield Park friends, Rawlings was sailing towards America and Kent spent his night sharing dinner and discussing his own personal business with his uncle.
Waiting for the time to leave, Darcy sat alone in his library shuffling papers on his desk. He abandoned any reading using the excuse that the candles did not provide enough light. He had spent a few minutes looking for several documents that had been missing. He made a mental not to ask Kent about it. or perhaps Rawlings took them to show Astor.
He paced the floor before stopping to stroke the fire. He poured himself a brandy, his scotch whiskey long depleted. He nestled into the soft cushion of his favorite chair swirling the amber liquid in the bottom of his glass. He could not erase the woman in his thoughts. Her speckled brown eyes twinkled at him while he swallowed his first sip. Humph. I must not think of her. I…
He ignored his own command, and closed his eyes. Her face took form and then her neck. He felt his body burn as his imaginations traveled down the neck to that pinkish sliver where fabric met skin. His hands tightened on the chair arms when he allowed his mind’s eye to go behind the material, and licked his lips and leaned forward. His head snapped up. Damn. He gulped his drink, rose, and poured another one.
He forced himself to find a different subject for his thoughts. “The Rivals! Now what were the names of those books the actress mentioned in the second scene?” He jumped up and hurried to the bookcase where he fingered several of the titles. The Reward of Constancy. That was one. I am a constant sort of fellow, so where is my reward?
Darcy studied his own collection and questioned if the books in the play were real. He moved further down the bookshelf, tapping the tomes as he went.
Oh, the second book was The Fatal Connection. Darcy threw his shoulders back and stood upright. “True, any connection to Elizabeth would be fatal. My uncle would never approve, nor would Aunt Catherine. I would be better off dead then face them. Humph.”
When the next title penetrated his consciousness, he allowed his body to slump and his head to drop. The Mistakes of the Heart. That was the third book. “Can there really be a mistake of the heart? How can a person ever be a mistake when desire is so strong?”
Well, I believe I am living the last book, and then shouted, “The Gordian Knot!” Even though the room was empty, Darcy looked around sheepishly. He returned to his chair, contemplating his intractable problem as he drained his glass of the fiery liquid. He mulled over his situation for a full hour until the time arrived to leave for Dembry’s ball.
Darcy and Bingley had agreed to ride together. It did not take long before they spotted Blake who had arrived first and stood against the wall, waiting for them to arrive. He was gazing at the dancers while they turned and swayed to the music. Darcy wondered why Blake was not dancing since he rarely missed an opportunity to flirt with the lovely ladies. He and Bingley made their way through the crowd. The three men were speaking quietly to each other when the whiff of a familiar scent—lavender—startled Blake and Darcy, both catching their breath. They jerked their heads around only to discover the fragrance was wafting from an old matron..
After a few minutes of silence, Darcy pointed his gaze towards the dance floor. “I am surprised you two have chosen to watch rather than participate. I believe that is my role at these affairs.”
“Do you not find the music rather mediocre?” Blake stared at the musicians. “Their music is…”
“Yes, it seems a bit off to me too.” Bingley nodded. “And no beauty has caught my eye.”
Darcy surveyed the room, filled with enough beautiful, stylish, and fashionable ladies for the most demanding of men. Although many ladies had departed months ago, every woman attending this ball knew how to walk, hold herself, smile behind her fan, and even speak in the right tone. The not-so-important gentlemen fluttered around the women, pretending to be more notable than they were.
“Well, why are you not dancing, Darcy? You usually partake of a dance or two at balls where everyone is known,” Blake asked.
“It is dull and boring tonight.” Darcy winked to Bingley, who just sighed loudly in response.
“Perhaps we should play cards. Is that not what most gentlemen do when they do not dance? You would know, Darcy.”
“I do not play cards at balls. I would rather—”
“Discuss books?” Blake interrupted, and then followed it with a shallow laugh.
“Oh. Who is that lady?” Darcy asked as the crowd made way for a beautiful redhead. The green silk was of the best quality. She wore a contrasting ruby pendent, which reflected the candlelight as she roamed around the room. The sparkles had a mesmerizing effect upon anyone gawking at the precious stone cradled in the white of her bosom. She searched the faces until they landed on Blake. She moved forward.
“Miss Avery Anne Godwin.”
“I am not surprised that you would be acquainted with the loveliest woman in the room. Where did you meet her?” Darcy asked.
“At Uncle Harrowby’s dinner almost a fortnight ago.”
The men stood taller when she approached. She curtseyed, and then reminded Blake he had promised to dance with her at the next ball. Blake offered his arm, she accepted, and they left with the other two men wondering more about her. Before Blake and Miss Godwin could find a place in the line, a gentleman approached Darcy, requesting a private moment. He suggested they speak in the library, further piquing Darcy’s interest.
Once they arrived, the gentleman paced the room, touching a few books on the shelves. Darcy waited patiently in a comfortable chair, not offering any conversation. He drew circles on the chair arms with his finger matching the path of the man. He had he known him for his whole life, and his father had conducted business with this man in particular. Their estates touched Derbyshire. Unable to guess the reason for the discussion, Darcy cleared his voice until the gentleman stopped and looked his way.
“Mr. Wilcox, is there something you need? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Good gracious, no. First, I must thank you for your kindness during last year’s harvest. Without your help, I would have lost my crop and fallen on hard times. I did not reveal it t
hen, but I had borrowed money; and had you not provided the assistance when you did, my property would have been forfeit. You saved my estate, young man. Your men worked diligently, Darcy. The man I borrowed from would have never shown any mercy. I am only sorry you wish to keep your kindness a secret. Why, if you—”
Darcy held up his open palm, stopping the older gentleman from further discussion. “I suspect you have something else you wanted to say?”
“Yes, you are correct. I came straight from the country to warn you.”
Darcy sat up. “Why? What concerns you?”
“Several months ago, a man had been discovered on my property. He was seeking information about you. He would not reveal for whom he worked, and unfortunately, the local magistrate declined to take action. I do not know why.”
“What information?”
“At first I found it more curious than alarming. He sought any morsel about the help you gave me last autumn. He asked many questions about your men, and in particular about how you compensated them. He made notes in a journal, but he either destroyed or hid it away before he was brought to me. I thought the man was seeking information to use against me not you, but since my brother visited me last week, I have come to believe that I am not the target.”
“I will be on the look out. I thank you for the information.” Darcy glanced at his fingers. I am always a target.
“There is more!”
Darcy looked up.
“Someone has been questioning many tradesmen in London, and in every instance, they are asking about your involvement with them over a business venture. My brother emphasized that the rumors are spreading rapidly among them.”
“Do not fear. There are always rumors where I am the topic.”
“No. I have not explained myself well. They are being warned not to deal with you, and they are… afraid. I do not know what you are involved in, and I make no judgment, but I did want to inform you. I would not like to see you harmed.”
“Do you have information about this man? Is he the same man who was found on your property?”
“No, it is a different man. I doubt he uses his real name, but the talk is about a powerful individual is behind these actions, and you are the target.”
“Thank you, Wilcox. I will alert my man and begin an investigation.”
“Well, that is all I wanted to say. I wish you well; and do not hesitate to call on me for any assistance.” Wilcox bowed as Darcy rose from his chair.
Slapping the man on his back, Darcy thanked him again and they spoke of the coming winter before they parted company. Wilcox left the premises, and Darcy returned to the ballroom, where he found Bingley sitting alone.
“Darcy, if you do not mind, I prefer to leave. I have no interest in the ball tonight, and I find I am not the best of company.” Bingley said.
“If you wait until the dance set is finished, we can take our leave of Blake. I, too, find nothing of interest here.”
Bingley agreed, and the two watched as Blake and Miss Godwin continued their dance. “They appear to be arguing. Well, she appears to be arguing. Blake merely smiles at her and nods his head. That seems to make her argue more.”
“He does seem to antagonize her.” Darcy studied Miss Godwin’s face, searching unsuccessfully for a raised brow. He watched helplessly when he imagined her red hair turning dark and several curls bounced along her neck. The green of her gown faded until it appeared almost creamy in color. When the woman in his vision held her arms open to him, Darcy shook his head, clearing his mind of the image of Elizabeth. He turned to Bingley. “Yes, there is nothing in this room that interests me.
“You seemed deep in thought. What holds your interest so intently?”
“I… I was wondering what Blake said that has caused such a reaction in her.” He wondered how it was possible his friend could so easily flirt and transfer his attentions so quickly. Blake did appear pleased to be dancing with her. “Did he mention this lady before?”
“Not to me.”
They waited silently for the set to end and took their leave when the dance was finished. Blake and Miss Godwin remained, but instead of dancing, Darcy noted they disappeared into another room. Humph. Perhaps another balcony!
***
“Now, is that Beethoven’s?” Kent asked while listening to the sonata Georgiana played.
“Yes, he is a new composer. Did you recognize how he uses pieces full of sharply articulated phrases, staccato declarations, and accented chords?”
“To be honest, no. I do not even know what that means. Truthfully, it was a guess. You had mentioned him the other day and I… assumed you would play his music soon.” Kent dropped his head but barely concealed his chuckle..
Shaking her head, Georgiana released a deep breath. “You are a difficult student, Mr. Kent. But you do turn pages wonderfully.”
Darcy had entered the music room quietly; he stood in the doorway listening to their conversation and cleared his throat when they shared a smile. While pleased to see Georgiana's mood less somber, her growing interest in Kent raised a few concerns. For years, Kent had sought out the most ignored ladies in society. Of course, they were titled or from an established, old family, but had neither the money nor the beauty to warrant attention from someone of a higher station in life. Hence, the opportunity existed for the tradesman’s son to improve his social standing. Since Kent’s behavior did not affect him personally, Darcy had never concerned himself with the manner in which he, like other social climbers, operated–until now.
When Georgiana spotted her brother, her face turned such a deep shade of red, so dark he could see the spreading color across the room. But when she lowered her head and whispered something to Kent, he decided not to delay any longer. He would ask Geoffries for a daily report about their interactions. Since his butler would be discreet, he doubted Kent would realize he was under surveillance.
“Good evening. That was lovely, Georgiana. Kent, I did not realize you were here tonight,” Darcy said through a forced smile.
Kent straightened his cravat. “Miss Darcy has been instructing me on composers; however, I believe I am a lost cause. They all sound alike to me.” Kent glanced towards Georgiana, who lowered her head and stared at the keyboard.
Darcy drew closer to her, leaned in, and said, “It is nice of you to help my friend, Mr. Kent. I admire your willingness to help someone so hopeless. I realize it must be impossible with one so tone deaf, and so out of his echelon.”
Georgiana giggled at Kent, who was pretending to glare meanly at her brother. Kent’s exaggerated manner did not amuse Darcy, and the lightheartedness in the room dissipated.
“What shall I play for you, brother?”
“I must apologize. Kent and I have business to attend to this evening.” When Georgiana’s smile faltered, he added, “I desire to hear my favorite Bach piece later tonight, and if Kent wishes to partake of our late night dessert, he will have to guess which Bach it is!”
Georgiana smiled to her brother. Kent looked back and nodded his thanks when she began to play his favorite tune as he and Darcy left the room.
Once inside the library, Darcy pounced. “I was surprised to see you here tonight.”
Not intimidated by the sharpness of Darcy’s words, Kent pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to Darcy. “I left my dinner early with a message from my uncle. I believed the purpose was too important to delay. I was awaiting your return when Miss Darcy took pity on me sitting all alone in the library. She offered another lesson in composers. I must say, though, it is as hopeless as you said.”
Not amused at his attempted jest but willing to ignore it for now, Darcy focused his attention on the letter. “I see, you are summoned to appear at the Custom House. I wonder how they discovered we were considering shipping rifles to British America.” Darcy stared at Kent when he spoke.
Kent shrugged. “I am just as surprised as you. Perhaps someone in Bingley’s family revealed it.”
A World of Expectations_Book 2_The Confrontation Page 19