With Love's Light Wings

by Jann Rowland

  “Darcy!” hailed a voice, and Alexander turned, noting the approach of John Smallwood, a friend of longstanding.

  “Smallwood!” exclaimed Alexander, pumping his friend’s hand with pleasure. “How are you, man?”

  “Excellent,” replied his friend. “The rumors of your return made their way through the neighborhood some days ago. I see they were not exaggerated.”

  Alexander grinned and said: “My father required my presence. Otherwise, I might have continued relieving Jameson of his wealth in London.”

  Smallwood laughed along with him. “Jameson never knows when to quit. One might think he would have realized his lack of skill by now.”

  “He will never learn,” replied Alexander. “And as long as he does not, I shall cheerfully continue to play against him.”

  In the manner of old friends reunited, the two chatted for some time, imparting details of their doings of late. Smallwood was a man of Alexander’s age, who had been a friend as long as he could remember. Their exploits as young boys had been legendary, and Alexander still remembered some of the punishments he had received from his father for some of their more memorable antics.

  “Mr. Darcy,” interrupted a voice after they had conversed for some moments. “I heard you returned to Derbyshire, but as I did not receive a visit, I thought perhaps the rumors were false.”

  Turning, Alexander noted a young woman watching him. Her name was Miss Violet Gainsborough, and she was one of the flirtiest young ladies in the neighborhood. Before Alexander had left for London, she had been the focus of his attention; he had considered visiting her when he returned home but thought it would have been a blatant show of favor, one he did not wish to make.

  “Miss Gainsborough,” replied Alexander with a bow. He flashed her a brilliant smile, for just because he did not wish to marry the girl, there was no reason not to enjoy her company. “I might have come as soon as I arrived in the neighborhood, but six months out of your company is a long time to go without the sun. It is impossible to suppose you are still unattached, for what man could resist you?”

  The girl was not embarrassed at all by his flattery; instead, she gazed at him, as bold as brass. “How could I have allowed any other man to charm me, given how much I longed for your return?”

  “How could you, indeed?” said Alexander softly. She was a comely girl, one any man would feel lucky to have at his side. It was unfortunate that Alexander had often thought her purpose in flirting with him was to become closer to his older brother. It was no secret that William had never looked twice at her—nor at any other woman, for that matter.

  “I shall wait at my father’s estate for your coming,” said Miss Gainsborough as she turned away. “The thought of resuming our acquaintance pleases me.”

  As she sauntered away from him, her hips swaying, his friend gave a low whistle. “Do you mean to pursue her?” asked Smallwood.

  “Of course not,” replied Alexander, fixing his friend with a sidelong look. “With Miss Gainsborough for a wife, one would never be certain her eye would not wander.”

  Smallwood laughed at his sally. “For that matter, I wonder if the woman you marry can be certain your eyes will remain fixed on her.”

  “Nothing could be further from the truth,” said Alexander, affecting an injured air.

  “Perhaps not, though you give the impression of it, my friend. It was good to see you again, but for now, I must depart.”

  Wishing his friend well, Alexander farewelled him and returned to the tanner to discover the man had completed his work. Alexander paid him, plus a little extra for his trouble, and turned to depart, deciding to lead his horse into the town by the reins instead of riding in the narrow confines of its roads. And as he walked, he whistled a jaunty tune, once again filled with the contentment of being back in Derbyshire.

  As he had considered before, Lambton was a pretty town, one appealing because of its charming, though narrow streets, and the friendliness of its inhabitants. Some might consider the location to have been chosen ill, for it was nestled among the rolling hills of Derbyshire with nary a straight or wide road to its name. That did not bother its inhabitants, for there were few who lived there who did not look back on it fondly if they left.

  On the way to the bookstore, Alexander stopped at the milliner’s, for his hat was becoming old and in need of replacement. When he departed the store, he stopped for a moment, looking both directions, before continuing on toward the bookstore, which was just down the street. That was when he saw them.

  Walking together, giggling behind raised hands as was the wont of young ladies their age were two of the Bennet sisters—including the one who had looked at him so boldly that day on the hill. They were, Alexander could appreciate, comely young girls—but so were all the Bennet sisters. One was fair of face and hair, slender of form and possessed beautiful green eyes and a pert mouth begging to be kissed, while the other was a little taller of stature, dark locks peeking out from under her bonnet, framing her face, with eyes similar to her sister’s, though perhaps even prettier.

  The two girls stopped short when they saw him, seeming to know at once who he was. Alexander, not thinking much of it—or the infamous feud between Bennet and Darcy—bowed low to greet them. He could never have predicted the response he was to receive.

  “Good morning, ladies. How do you do this fine day?”

  The two girls looked at him with astonishment for a moment, then they turned to each other and laughed. The shorter girl would not meet his eyes again, but the taller fixed him with a challenging stare, the likes of which he would not have expected to see from a woman twice her age, though much like she had done that day at the hill.

  “Mr. Darcy, I presume? I wonder at your presence, though I suppose any audacity from a Darcys should be unsurprising.”

  “If you recall,” said Alexander, amused and confused at the same time, “I merely wished you a good morning. How could I do otherwise when such loveliness is before me?”

  “You consider yourself a charmer, I think,” replied the girl. “I wonder if you have it in you to please a young woman worthy of being pleased.”

  “And I presume you consider yourself such a woman?” asked Alexander, more diverted than perhaps he should have been.

  The girl strolled toward him, her manner sultry and provocative, and when she reached him, she tapped him on the arm and said: “You would like to know what kind of woman I am. But I do not associate with known rakes and libertines.”

  “None of which describe me,” Alexander found himself saying. “The reality is less scandalous than the rumors.”

  A throaty laugh was the girl’s response. “How utterly expected. I am not surprised you would attempt to ply an innocent maiden such as myself with such tales.”

  “Lydia,” said the other girl, an urgent note in her voice, “perhaps we should leave.”

  It may have been best for this tête-à-tête to end as the girl said, but the truth was Alexander was enjoying her flirting and unwilling to go away. A part of him wondered how old she was, for she did not appear to be more than seventeen or eighteen. She acted like a woman of five and twenty or more.

  The girl—Lydia—considered what her sister said, and then addressed Alexander: “It seems to me this one is much more bark than bite, Kitty. Besides, I told you how much I enjoy mocking them.”

  “Oh, so this is mocking, is it?” asked Alexander, eyebrows rising in further astonishment.

  “It may be—or at least a form of it. It seems to me you are deserving of it.”

  Why Alexander was deserving of being mocked he was not to discover, for the sound of a loud voice interrupted their confrontation. The two girls turned, Alexander following their eyes, only to be shocked at the sight of the man he least wished to see walking toward them.

  “What is the meaning of this?” demanded he, looking alternately at his nieces, then back at Alexander himself. Mr. David Gardiner, for that was who he was, appeared less ince
nsed than Alexander might have expected. That did not make him any less wary of the gentleman.

  “Nothing more than exchanging morning greetings, Uncle,” said Miss Lydia with a shrug. “Mr. Darcy greeted us, and we responded in kind.”

  Mr. Gardiner’s eyes once again found him, falling on him with the force of a hammer. “He did? It was my impression that Bennets and Darcys did not acknowledge each other.”

  Miss Lydia huffed as her sister looked frightened. “Do not be silly, Uncle. There is no reason to care that he is a Darcy, and no reason to be uncivil. If someone greets me, I shall respond.”

  “I am do not think this one is trustworthy, Lydia. You should return to Longbourn. I suppose I shall follow you, for I must have words with your father.”

  “If you are referring to what happened between us last autumn,” said Alexander, “then I apologize without reservation. It was unintentional.”

  “Do you not think I know that?” said Mr. Gardiner. “That is in the past, and I have no intention of belaboring the point. Of more immediate concern is your reputation regarding young ladies—these two are my nieces, as you must know, and are far bolder than they have any right to be. They are too young to converse with grown men many years their elder in the streets of Lambton.

  “Now, since it seems you were the one to initiate a conversation with them, I put the question to you: what do you mean by flirting in the streets with my young nieces?”

  “You are asking the wrong person,” said Alexander, fixing the man with far more asperity than he had intended. “I may have greeted them, but it was your niece who responded with far more boldness than I might have expected in a woman of questionable morals!”

  As soon as the words spilled from his lips, Alexander knew it had been a mistake to utter them. Mr. Gardiner’s fists clenched and unclenched, and he appeared ready to attack Alexander for the insult to his family. It was then the benefits of flight occurred to him. He had never been one to back down, but at present, a quick departure may be for the best.

  The tension in the bookseller was almost thick enough to walk on, a fact that was not lost on the proprietor. The poor man looked about, knowing of the enmity between Bennet and Darcy, as did everyone within fifty miles of Lambton. Darcy endeavored to smile, to reassure him that no unpleasantness would occur in his shop, but he was uncertain it was anything other than an abject failure.

  “Have you finished your shopping, Georgiana?” asked Mr. Darcy of his sister. “If so, perhaps you should make your purchases and depart.”

  “As I attempted to inform her, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, her simpering leer as grating as it had ever been. “It would be best for her to avoid such company as this, for you would not wish her to be hurt.”

  Darcy noted the anger blooming in Miss Elizabeth’s eyes and heard Bingley’s sharp reprimand; he was not impressed himself. Whatever he or anyone in his family thought of the Bennets, they were of the nobility. One did not insult such people lightly.

  “It would be best, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, his harsh tone wiping the smile from her face, “if you refrained from such comments. The Darcy family is not friendly with our neighbors, but we have nothing but respect for their position in society.”

  Miss Bingley looked away in embarrassment, much to Darcy’s satisfaction. In that, he was joined by Miss Elizabeth, whose glare at Miss Bingley suggested she had already set the woman down once; it was clear Miss Bingley had learned nothing from the experience. For a moment, Darcy felt a hint of kinship with the young lady, which was both welcome and unsettling. Darcy ignored it and returned his attention to his sister.

  “Come, Georgiana, let us purchase your books.” He stepped up to her and past Miss Elizabeth, and stood beside her, and as she set her books down for the proprietor to examine, he could not help but add: “Are you well?”

  A huff drew his attention back to Miss Elizabeth. “Do you suppose we would be unkind to your sister, Mr. Darcy? What kind of ruffians do you take us for? Or were your words about respecting our position nothing more than words?”

  “Miss Elizabeth was very kind to me, Brother,” added Georgiana. “All the Bennet sisters were excellent.”

  Though Darcy attempted to discover the words with which he could respond, Miss Elizabeth was quick to state her opinion.

  “Whatever you may think of us, Mr. Darcy, we Bennets are a civilized family. We are not barbarians; we will not render unkindness to a young woman because she belongs to a family with whom we disagree. It was lovely to make your sister’s acquaintance, and should the occasion permit it, I would like to continue our acquaintance and know more of her.”

  The woman stepped to his sister and grasped her hands. “You are a wonderful young woman, Miss Darcy. I hope you will not hold my surname against me, for I assure you, I do not think ill of you for yours.”

  Georgiana responded with a warm smile, as much a surprise to Darcy as anything else that had happened in this shop, for she had always been a shy creature. “Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. Though the relations between our families are strained as ever, I can state with no hesitation that I have seen nothing of untrustworthiness from you or your sisters.”

  “Thank you, Miss Darcy. Now, if you do not mind, I believe I shall put my books on the counter beside you and wait for my turn to pay for my purchases.”

  After his sister agreed with a happy smile, Miss Elizabeth did exactly that. Darcy did not know what to say. There was nothing to say. Everything Miss Elizabeth had said was the truth, and Darcy did not wish to dispute it. It was something he would need to consider further.

  As the proprietor, now looking relieved, tallied their purchases, Bingley stepped close to Darcy. It had been some time since Darcy had the pleasure of his friend’s company, and he wondered how he had not missed it.

  “I hope there is enough of our friendship left,” said Bingley, “for you to take my words in the manner in which I intend them. As I was your close friend for years and am now all but engaged to Miss Bennet, let me tell you without equivocation that there is no reason for this continued mistrust for your families.”

  “Perhaps there is not, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “But it exists nonetheless.”

  “Then it will fall to you—to all involved—to overcome it. There is something of pride in both families, Darcy, and as I know it is a common complaint of each about the other, you should know the Bennets are not any more steeped in it than the Darcys. And as far as I have seen there is nothing untrustworthy about either family, for I have seen the good in you both. I hope you will think on this.”

  Darcy nodded and Bingley stepped away, leaving Darcy with the realization there was more on which to think than he had expected. As Georgiana had paid for her purchases—by now, the Bennets had finished was well—he thought it best to depart. Thus, offering an arm to his sister as an escort—Darcy ignored Miss Bingley, much to the woman’s displeasure—he led her from the shop. Only to find another scene of even greater disquiet.

  “As your nieces have noted, I greeted them. It was your niece who responded with far more boldness than I might have expected in a woman of questionable morals!”

  The words, ringing among the close quarters of the street could not be misheard by anyone nearby, least of all the man who had been their target. Mr. David Gardiner stood facing Alexander, and from the look of him, Darcy thought he was on the verge of calling Alexander out or attacking him at once. Alexander himself seemed to understand the mistake he had made. Even the two girls with Mr. Gardiner appeared surprised. That did not stop one of them from appearing amused if the slight smile she wore was any sign.

  Without conscious agreement, the three men from the bookstore—Darcy, Bingley, and some other man, a Bennet relation—stepped forward and interposed themselves between the two combatants.

  “That is enough, I should say,” said Darcy, glaring at his brother, while the other two men performed a similar office calming Mr. Gardiner. “That comment was beyond the pale
, Alexander. Apologize.”

  “Of course,” said Alexander without attempting to defend himself. “I offer my unreserved apologies, Miss Lydia, and to you, Mr. Gardiner. It appears my sense deserted me when I said such vile words..”

  It seemed to Darcy that Alexander was being serious for a change, for none of his usual glibness was in evidence. Mr. Gardiner seemed to understand this too, for though he still glared at Alexander, he said nothing. That left Miss Lydia to respond.

  “Apology accepted. Mr. Darcy. I should not have spoken with such boldness, and for that, I offer my own sincere regrets.”

  “Not at all,” replied Alexander, offering her a low bow. “The greater fault was mine, and I own to it without reservation.”

  “It seems to me it behooves us all to take great care,” said one of the other Bennet sisters, though Darcy did not know her name. “If our families cannot see the good in the other, we had best refrain from statements which are inflammatory or easily misconstrued.”

  “Thank you, Mary,” said Mr. Gardiner. “We should all take heed of your wise words.”

  “Then we shall depart, Mr. Gardiner,” said Darcy, nodding to the other man.

  Mr. Gardiner returned his tight nod and gathered his family, including Bingley, and began to herd them down the street. Darcy did the same with his brother and sister, though he could not help but cast a glance back in Miss Elizabeth’s direction. The woman had turned to follow her uncle, but her words in the bookshop were ever before him. One thing Fitzwilliam Darcy was coming to understand—Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a rare woman, the likes of whom he had never met.

  “Girls,” said Mr. Gardiner as they walked away, “I would have you keep your distance from the younger Mr. Darcy. There is something too cavalier about the man, which renders him an unsuitable acquaintance for young ladies of your station.”

  “There is nothing the matter with Mr. Darcy,” said Lydia, her mind not on her uncle’s lecture. “The only fault I can attribute to him is a propensity to speak when he should remain silent.”