Rage began to bubble in Darcy’s chest. “When I desire to become a rake, I will certainly come to you for lessons, cousin. Until then, pray speak of ladies with respect in front of me.”
Henry turned to his father mockingly and pointed a finger towards Darcy. “See, Father? He is in love.”
The earl stroked his beard. “I do believe you are correct. Who is she, Darcy?”
“She is no one! There is no such woman.”
“She is no one, eh? What sort of no one is she?”
Darcy debated how high the price would be if he walked out of the room that instant. Too high, in all probability. The earl knew his weak point and would needle Georgiana mercilessly for the pleasure of seeing Darcy squirm. “Must I invent a lady to satisfy you, then?”
Henry’s smile showed he had scented the blood. “Father, I wager you a thousand pounds I can find her before you do. And find her price.”
“And enjoy her before he does? No, Henry, save those tricks for your friends. Darcy is family,” the earl said. “Now, Darcy, would you not rather tell us who she is than raise Henry’s curiosity?”
Was this how the fox felt when he heard the horns of the hunt? Thank God he had decided to stay away from Moorsfield. There was nothing for them to find; no one knew where he went each morning. “Look all you like, if you enjoy chasing wild geese.”
Richard shot him a warning glance. “Have it your way, Darcy, but I am glad not to be so choosy as you. There is a lovely lady on Drury Lane who has caught my fancy. A face that would launch ships and a figure to die for. Unfortunately, she belongs to someone else, but I can wait until he tires of her.”
Henry waggled a finger at his younger brother. “Or go backstage between the acts with a pearl necklace, and I wager you will be satisfied. Which theatre?”
“The Haymarket. Mrs. Symons. Stunning chestnut hair, green eyes, and a dulcet voice.”
Henry snapped his fingers. “I know the very one! I saw her in The Country Wife.”
Richard raised his eyebrows. “Last I heard, that play was still banned.”
“Nothing is banned if Prinny wants it enough. They did a private performance for him.”
Richard helped himself to another glass of port and then took the chair between Darcy and Henry. “Tell me, is it as wicked as they say?”
“Even more wicked, and delightful. The actresses stayed afterwards.”
Richard gave a silent whistle. “I should have liked to see such a sight. Or to have enjoyed it myself.”
Henry laughed and raised his glass. “Take another lesson, Darcy. Our father has not raised any Puritans.”
“So I see.” Darcy knew Richard was trying to protect him by playing the rake, but he had no taste for this game. “Yes, I certainly see what you mean.”
Chapter 5
This was the worst visit to Rosings Park Darcy could recall, and there had been many unpleasant ones. The only time Darcy ever enjoyed Rosings was when Elizabeth was there. He should have followed her when she left and proposed; then she would be in his bed tonight helping him laugh at all the nonsense.
After a tense dinner, Richard invited him back to his room. The door had barely closed behind them when Richard tore off his cravat and flung it over the bedrail. “Finally. That damned thing has been choking me all night.”
Darcy slumped into a richly upholstered chair. It was uncomfortable, like all the furnishings at Rosings. “The conversation, if you care to call it that, was asphyxiating enough. Present company excepted, of course, though I was afraid that if your father mentioned Lady Mary one more time, I might have had to pull you off him. Does he know?”
Richard’s valet appeared silently from the dressing room and cast a mildly reproachful look at his master as he picked up the discarded cravat and folded it. Richard turned his back to him, shrugged off his tailcoat into Robbins’s waiting hands, and said, “Completely oblivious, as far as I know, and I prefer to keep it that way. It would make no difference in any case.”
“Is it certain, then, that she will marry Henry?”
Richard grimaced. “They are still negotiating with her father. And no, there is nothing I can do to stop it. She does not wish to marry Henry, but her father will never consent to allow her to marry me, and she will not act without his consent. So Henry will make her miserable, and I will be the friend who offers her what little solace I can.” He began to unbutton his waistcoat. “It was bad enough when the best I could hope for was to partner her for a dance, to allow our hands to touch briefly, and the occasional clandestine meeting. Watching her with Henry… it does not bear thinking on.”
“I am sorry. Perhaps the negotiations will come to nothing; it has happened often enough before.”
“One can but hope. I have long since resigned myself that she will marry another man, but I would prefer it not to be Henry. Robbins, damn it, where is my robe? A man could freeze to death in here.” Richard took the poker and stirred the fire with unnecessary vigour until the flames leapt high.
Robbins came up behind him, holding out the quilted moss-green robe. “Here it is, sir. My apologies.”
Richard nodded to him and pulled the robe around himself. “Is there no brandy here?”
Robbins bowed. “I will fetch it immediately.” If he was perturbed by his master’s unusual ill temper, it was not apparent as he took a bottle from a small cabinet and poured the amber liquid into two snifters.
Richard took the proffered glass and moodily swirled it. “They were in fine form today, both my father and Henry, blast and damn them both. You were fortunate to get off so lightly when you refused to marry Anne.”
“It was quite enough for me. I do not know how you tolerate it.”
Richard shrugged. “You should not allow them to bait you so. Tell them what they want to hear, and that will be the end of it. What does it matter if they think you have mistresses on every street corner? I say what they want to hear, and do as I please.”
“If your damned brother had not tried to besmirch Georgiana, I might have done so as well. If he so much as looks at her, I will call him out.”
“He only does that to annoy you. She is not his sort; he prefers women who are well versed in bedroom arts.”
“Charming,” Darcy muttered beneath his breath. “Will you warn me, Richard, if Henry decides to go lady hunting?”
Richard paused to look at him. “So there is a lady.”
“No, there is not; but there is a lady I have shown interest in, and I cannot allow him near her.”
“So there is not a lady, yet there is. How puzzling.”
“I have decided not to see her again.” There it was again, that familiar wrenching pain in his gut.
“Who is she?”
Richard was the one person he could tell. “You have met her. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She stayed with that parson, the grovelling one, when we visited here two years ago.” It was a relief to speak her name.
“Yes, I remember her well! Charming girl, if a bit outspoken. I might have fancied her myself, had she any money to her name.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “She has even less now. Her family has been dispossessed after her father’s death, and she is living on the charity of relatives.”
“Poor girl.” Richard took a long swallow of brandy. “How do you come into it, then?”
“I came into it, so to speak, years ago. She bewitches me. I once even thought of making her an offer. But I put her behind me, until we happened to meet again recently.”
“She will not accept your protection? A pity; it sounds as if she would be better off than she is now.”
Darcy choked on the wine in his mouth. When he could speak again, he said fiercely, “I do not want her as my mistress. I respect her too much for that.”
Richard shook his head slowly. “You are far gone, my friend.”
“That is not news.” And he hated himself for it.
“Why not marry her, then? If she would be willing to tolerate all you
r insufferable relations, that is.”
“Do not be ridiculous.”
“Why is it ridiculous? I cannot have the woman I love, but you can. I would give anything for your opportunities.” Richard made no attempt to mask his bitterness. “You are the most fortunate man in England. You need please no one with your marriage. You should seize the opportunity.”
“It is not that simple.”
“Certainly society will laugh behind their hands, but do you really care? You have enough money to do as you please.”
“The family. Georgiana. My duty to them.”
“You owe a duty to my estimable father and brother? I cannot think why. If Lady Mary would agree to defy her father, I would marry her in a second and care not a jot for the wrath of my family. I have begged her to do as much for years. When you are on your deathbed, will you be comforted by knowing you did your duty to your family and left the woman you love to suffer alone in God knows what kind of circumstances? Good God, man, think on it.”
Darcy dug his fingernails into his palms “I think on Georgiana. It would harm her prospects to no end.”
“Her prospects among whom? The likes of John Blakeney and Thomas Neville? By God, if it were my choice, I would not allow her to marry any of them. Let her have a peaceful life as a spinster. She would never want for anything, and no man could mistreat her.”
Darcy shook his head. Richard was starting to sound like Bingley. “You talk as if there are no decent men to be found, but you yourself are proof it is not true. And I know others.”
“Of course there are. It is just the things I see… most of the young men who surround other heiresses, I would not want them near Georgiana. I would marry her myself before that.”
“I have heard worse ideas than that.” Some of them that very afternoon.
With a bitter chuckle, Richard clapped him on the shoulder. “Darcy, you have had too much to drink. That was a joke. I could no more bed Georgiana than I could my own daughter, if I had one. Go to bed. Perhaps you will think more clearly in the morning.”
Darcy took the hint. His footsteps echoed down the long corridor, lit only by the candle in his hand. The upstairs servants were all abed already, resting for another day at Lady Catherine’s beck and call.
At least he could spend the hours of darkness in the silent haven of his rooms. After the tension of the day, he craved the release of solitude. He was no sooner in the door of his rooms than he shrugged off his topcoat, tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair. His cravat had been choking him all evening, and his hands tore at the knot. He took a deep breath when the snow-white cloth finally hung loose over his shoulders. Then he realized he was not alone.
There was a girl in his bed. She sat up when she saw his gaze, the sheets dropping away to reveal that she was wearing nothing at all apart from long blond hair.
This was the last thing he needed. Darcy averted his eyes automatically. “Miss, I fear you are in the wrong room. I will step into the dressing room so you may clothe yourself and go.” He wondered whose bed she was supposed to be in—no doubt Henry’s or his uncle’s.
“I was told to come to you, Mr. Darcy, sir,” she said. “Will you not come to bed?” She looked uncertain, and even younger.
He silently cursed his uncle, the infuriating, interfering old codger. “I have no need of your services,” he said, his voice clipped. “You may go.”
The bedsheets rustled as he turned to take haven in the dressing room, but before he could escape, the girl was standing in front of him, every inch of her body revealed. She put her hands on his chest. “I can please you, sir. I will do anything you wish. Anything at all.” The girl sounded as if she were saying lines she had memorized in advance.
As an effort at seduction, it was a poor one, which was fortunate, because he was no more invulnerable to a naked woman’s form than any other man. But although he might be tempted to forget his cares in her arms, it would not work. She was not Elizabeth.
Besides, the girl did not hold her body the way a woman who wants to gain a man’s attention would. He realized she had no idea what she was doing. His uncle must have thought a virgin would tempt him. How little he knew his nephew. Gentlemen in town might pay a high premium to take a girl’s virginity, but the mere thought left a sour taste in Darcy’s mouth. He had never been interested in bedding women unless they were willing and eager, not frightened girls barely out of childhood whose lives would be ruined by the experience.
Good God, she was probably younger than Georgiana. Younger than his sister. She could even be his sister, and him never the wiser—his father had spent enough time at Rosings, and had no doubt sampled the local wares. He shook his head to clear it. “Put on your clothes and go.”
Her frightened eyes filled with tears. “Please, sir. I promise I can please you.”
The only way she could please him was magically to turn into Elizabeth. He rummaged in the wardrobe and found a handful of coins. He placed them in her hand, carefully not looking at her naked form. “There. You will not suffer for it.”
“But my lord said he would have me whipped if I did not satisfy you. He will know if I leave.”
Damn his uncle to everlasting perdition! “You can spend the night in my dressing room, then.” His uncle had no doubt told his valet to stay elsewhere. “I will tell Lord Matlock you were most satisfactory.” He laced the words with disgust.
“You will? Oh, thank you, sir. You are the kindest gentleman ever to walk the earth.” She grabbed at his hand and kissed it.
He snatched his hand away, picked up the worn dress, and thrust it at her. “Go, then.”
She clutched the dress to her body and hastened to the door he indicated. Just before she scuttled behind it, she said fervently, “I will always pray for you, sir.”
He sank onto the bed and covered his face in his hands. What a world, where a young girl was offering her prayers, the only thing of value she had, in thanks because he had not violated her body. Poor child, to have her innocence sold.
Richard’s words about Georgiana came back to him. Was this so different from what his uncle wished to do, to auction Georgiana off to the gentleman who could give the family the most prestige? Darcy’s attempts to secure Bingley for Georgiana and bypass the marriage market had failed, and she would be coming out in a few months. Richard was right; there were few gentlemen of his acquaintance who would make her anything but miserable.
But he was expected to find a man of good fortune for Georgiana, regardless of such a man’s temperament. Elizabeth, too, would likely have to wed whatever man her uncle chose, in order to have a home. And the poor girl in his dressing room, sold by her family as well. All for what? He longed for Elizabeth’s presence beside him, her fine eyes embracing him and offering comfort. What would she think of him, had she seen this scene?
In truth, Elizabeth probably would have barely spared him a thought, and instead worried about the girl, whose lot was far worse than his and who must have been terrified. He would have to make certain she was returned to her family safely the next day. Elizabeth would have liked that. Elizabeth, who was out of his reach forever, because she was beneath him. “Damn it all to hell!” he ground out, punching his hand into the pillow hard enough to send a few downy feathers floating off. He wished it had been his uncle’s face instead.
He needed sleep, but instead his veins were running with anger, and there was a frightened child on the other side of the door, not to mention his uncle to deal with in the morning. What was he to say to him? Or was it Henry who had arranged this surprise?
Better to know the truth of it before dealing with them. He knocked peremptorily at the dressing room door before opening it. The girl looked frankly terrified to see him. Her eyes were red rimmed. Did she think he had changed his mind?
“I wish only to ask you a question,” Darcy said hurriedly.
“Yes, sir?”
“Who arranged for you to come here?”
She se
emed pleased it was so simple a question. “My lord Matlock, sir.”
“How did he find you?”
She bit her lip, just as Elizabeth did so often. “I don’t know, sir. One of his men came to our cottage and talked to my father, then he told me to go with the man and do what he said.”
“Does your family lack for money?”
She glanced from side to side, as if in doubt as to what answer he wished for. “No more than most, but our cow died.”
Was a daughter worth the price of a cow, or not even that much? “How old are you?”
“Fifteen next month, sir.”
“What will happen to you when you go home?”
This time she did look away, and he could see her fight for composure. “I can’t go home, sir. I’m to go with my lord.”
“God in heaven!” He had saved the poor girl for only one night. “What if I take you back to your home?”
“I cannot go back. I cannot show my face there again, not after tonight.”
So much for his great charitable impulse. It was already too late for her. Tomorrow night she would no doubt be in his uncle’s bed and subject to rougher usage than she would have found with Darcy himself. He might have even done her an ill service by refusing her. He could at least have given her a gentle introduction to womanhood and prepared her for what was to come. But the thought of her with his uncle sickened him rather than tempted him. He turned on his heel and returned to bed, but sleep was a long time in coming.
***
Henry smirked when Darcy entered the breakfast room. “Good morning, cousin. Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, indeed,” Darcy said. He would give them no reason to blame to girl.
His uncle waved a pastry in the air. “See, Darcy, I told you. I knew it would do you a world of good.”
“It has certainly changed my outlook.”
“So she was good company, then?”
“She was quite satisfactory,” Darcy said coolly. To his own surprise, he added, “So satisfactory I think I shall take her with me when I leave.” It was better than abandoning the poor girl to their mercies.
Mr. Darcy's Obsession Page 5