Mendacity and Mourning

by J. L. Ashton

  Richard sank into his favourite chair, a roomy, reddish brown one moulded just right by his many days and nights relaxing in its fine leather. “I am here, as ever, to support you. I know my father pressured you, but I had thought to accompany you to Marlbourn and…you know…provide assistance when the fawning ladies and eager misses become too much for your tender sensibilities.”

  “My tender what?”

  “Those lovey feelings currently—and mayhap forever—occupied by Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “Do not mock me, you ass.” He fixed his eyes on the ceiling.

  “I do not. I envy you.”

  Darcy shifted his attention back to his cousin. To his surprise, Richard looked sincere.

  “You and Anne each seem to have found someone to truly and deeply care for. Madly care for, in her case, which I fear will not turn out well.” Richard stretched out his legs. “That Dumfries does not sit right with me. Anne is too altered.”

  “You do not believe love capable of instituting great change in character and behaviour?”

  Richard barked a laugh. “Zooks, man, she was a younger version of her mother: irrational and bordering on tyrannical.”

  “People change.”

  “Yes—a fevered kiss, her skirts tossed and lower bits caressed, and Anne is a new woman.”

  “Why do you insist on imprinting these images in my mind?” Darcy groaned and rubbed his eyes.

  “It is a simple question: Did love change Anne, or was it the act of love that changed her?” Richard stroked his moustache, a sure sign he was either deep in his cups or deep in morbid thought—or perhaps both.

  Darcy cleared his throat. “Events, good and bad, alter behaviours and a person’s point of view.”

  “Ah, life is war, a series of battlefield skirmishes requiring constant vigilance and retrenchment?”

  “Or advancement.” Shaking his head, Darcy leaned forward in his chair. “You deal with your parents every day you are in town. Do you not adjust your temper and your conversation to their moods? Just yesterday, I saw you anticipate your father’s wrath—and his throwing aim.”

  “Ha! You have the right of it. Damn that university education!” Richard jumped up and walked to the window. He stared out at the street below before turning. “Still, I trust neither our aunt nor Dumfries.”

  “Agreed. But as I have cut ties with her, she is your problem. I shall continue to oversee the situation at Rosings.”

  “You have the better of it, I believe. It is a Gordian knot, Darcy.”

  Darcy smiled. “Gordian knot, you say? I knew you paid attention to your history lessons.”

  Richard crossed his arms and smiled. His smug expression was long familiar to Darcy. “I pay attention to your sister’s enthusiasms as well as to the fish and flower deliveries. Interesting engagement you have here tonight. I believe I must join you and become acquainted with the magical Miss Bennet. The ‘perfect woman,’ is she not?”

  Darcy felt all the weight of being the younger man in need of his cousin’s support. Richard admitted he had never felt Cupid’s arrow, but he had never made the acquaintance of a woman as fine as Elizabeth. He would like her; Darcy was sure of it. He was equally sure that his cousin would require frequent reminders to temper his inclination to flirt.

  “You will behave, Richard,” he said sternly. “This night is important, and if you fail to curb your eyelash-fluttering ways, you will be sent to the nursery with the children.”

  “Children? Rug imps? Oh, this is too great a temptation. I must play with them. Ha! Imagine when my mother smells their biscuit crumbs on me. She will be mad for my brother to toss out his official calendar of marital coitus and get to the baby making.”

  Darcy was grateful he only turned slightly green at these words.

  ***

  Elizabeth thanked Lucy, her aunt’s lady’s maid, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes, while puffy from a lack of sleep, bore only a slight trace of redness. Her nose, now powdered, appeared normal. If the Darcys dined by low-burning candlelight, they would never see her symptoms of melancholia and head cold. She hoped to keep them innocent of her other ailments: the heart that ached with regret and the head that pounded with anger at herself for flinging blame and accusations at Mr. Darcy.

  She knew she must communicate tonight the message that she did not blame him. That her anger was, if not ceased, now more accurately aimed at others. He had behaved stupidly and unthinkingly but not maliciously. In fact, she finally had been able to find some humour in his mistake; however, it did not absolve him for his thickheaded lack of initiative in determining the truth. The very idea of confusing her kindly but somewhat paunchy uncle as her true love now prompted a quiet giggle.

  How she wished to curl up with Jane and plot out The Case of the Gullible, Grieving Groom. Oh, if her father ever learned of Mr. Darcy’s blunder in judgment, she would never hear the end of it. Nor would Mr. Darcy, if he spent time with her father in the future. But that now appeared unlikely unless Jane wed Mr. Bingley and they settled at Netherfield.

  She did not think Mr. Darcy would resume his courtship; after all, he was a dizzying man setting out to meet more eligible ladies at another estate, but at the least—at the very least—they could remain friends. He had invited her family to Darcy House, a great honour for a tradesman, even as Mr. Darcy behaved as though their presence would be an honour to him. She would never understand him. Was he still hopeful of her sentiments or hoping only to smooth over his faux pas for when they met on future occasions? He had his faults, as did any man, yet his seemed so much less defining than those of other men with whom she was acquainted—or related. Yes, Mr. Darcy could be stupid and proud, but no one could dispute that he was a man of good character with a mind that was clever and a manner so gentle. His temperament was defined by experience, education, duty, and conceit.

  “There is no one for me but you.”

  How could he say those words when his carriage was likely packed for his next journey into the land of ladies hoping to win him?

  Only if she could overcome the foggy buzzing in her ears and the dull pain in her heart would she believe tonight could be a success.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Darcy House was large and impressive, handsome to the eye and furnished with sculpture, paintings, vases, and so many artful luxuries that Elizabeth felt overwhelmed. It was formal yet comfortable, exuding wealth, strength, and intelligence. It was very much Mr. Darcy.

  The only fragile object Elizabeth noticed was Georgiana, who exerted herself flawlessly but ever so carefully. After warm greetings and a short tour of the public rooms, the group sat down to a sumptuous dinner that Elizabeth and her relations found easy to overpraise. Her cold might have dulled her senses, but even she could taste flavours cooked into the dishes created in the wondrous Darcy House kitchens. How Mr. Collins would swoon.

  She saw Georgiana’s eyes often drift to her brother’s as though seeking approval or perhaps simply his notice. His attention seemed focused solely on Elizabeth, much to the amusement of the Darcys’ cousin. In a manner quite different from Mr. Darcy and all of his complications, the colonel puzzled her. There was something oversized about him, as if he could burst at any moment, though whether into laughter, a bawdy story, or anger, she could not say. Sadly, she was not as sharply honed this night, as such a dissection would require.

  Elizabeth’s fog had lifted only slightly. She was a dull thing. Rarely ill, she cursed the timing of this cold. She had relied on the burst of energy she felt as they left the carriage, and it had carried her through conversation with Georgiana. The soup was helpful, but the steaming heat loosened her wits along with her breathing. If she looked as awful as she now felt, Mr. Darcy should be well pleased with her earlier dismissal of his romantic sentiments.

  She noted he see
med uneasy, and she was pleased to recognise that it was not because he found himself hosting lesser society but because too much was unknown to him. She wished for a means to let him know that her aunt and uncle remained unaware of his previous confusion about her and her uncle’s marital status. But her throat was scratchy and her thinking a bit too thick for determining such an approach.

  Fortunately for all parties, the Darcys’ cousin was loquacious, and Mr. Gardiner was an able conversationalist like his sisters. Unlike his sisters, he could speak on a broad range of topics beyond fashion, sauces, and weddings, and so it was that he and the colonel spent a good deal of time canvassing recent news from Parliament and the battlefields and on her uncle’s latest business ventures, while her aunt spoke quietly to Georgiana and Mr. Darcy about Derbyshire.

  For a broad-chested, long-winded man, Elizabeth found Colonel Fitzwilliam to be delicately wry in his conversation. He teased his cousins about their trip to see the wild animals and pouted a bit when Mrs. Gardiner explained her children’s absence.

  “A never-ending case of sneezing.”

  “Sadly, I am left bedecked and beribboned with no moppet to marvel at my medals and exploits,” he opined, his hand to his uniformed heart.

  “I am sure we could round up some street urchins to swoon over your every word,” Mr. Darcy replied drolly. “Especially after I drop them each a shilling.”

  Mr. Gardiner led the laughter. “My boys would enjoy your tales, sir. Like all young lads, they love the idea of danger and swordplay—”

  “Until one of them is hiding his head in my skirts with a scratch on his cheek or a wound to his valour,” her aunt interjected.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. “That is always the way of it! Ask Darcy, poor chap. I honed my fencing skills and knife thrusts on him for years when we were boys.”

  “You still do,” Mr. Darcy responded dryly. “And those three years of age you have on me are no longer such an advantage, old man.”

  They were, Elizabeth marvelled, like brothers, as though they had said these very words before and knew how the other would react. Her eyes shifted between the two men. Mr. Darcy’s fellowship with his cousin was full of warmth and humour and not as she had expected. She appreciated that the colonel, smart and well informed as he was, was unlikely to ruminate over clouds, philosophy, and poetry. Few men are…

  With a start, she realised she had been staring at the uniformed man. She blinked and glanced at Mr. Darcy. He was looking at her, a concerned expression on his handsome face that she tried to alleviate with a small smile.

  Their interaction did not go unnoticed by the colonel.

  ***

  Fortunately for Richard, Darcy was unaware of his cousin’s wildly ranging thoughts. Since welcoming his guests, Darcy had been respectful to all and especially attentive to anything said by Elizabeth. He noticed immediately that she was out of sorts. She might not be unhappy, but she was at least a bit uncomfortable. Her eyes lacked the sparkle to which he was accustomed, and he could only hope that yesterday’s disastrous encounter had played no part in her less spirited demeanour.

  No, he knew that he was fully responsible for her mood, for hurting her. He had behaved badly, without thought. He had been stupid, and his stupidity led to her pain.

  He missed her joy in teasing him, her smiles, her witty repartee. He wanted nothing more than to recapture that and to regain her trust and friendship. And he did not want to see her staring at his cousin, whose charm, in his opinion, was wearing thin. She smiled at me, but it did not reach her eyes. And she was staring at Richard. Blast him!

  Mr. Gardiner’s voice interrupted his self-chastisement. “My brother found you a fine competitor at his chessboard, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy nodded. “I enjoyed myself as well. It is a rare thing to be so fully engaged in both the match and the conversation.”

  “Samuel does like to keep his opponents off guard,” Mr. Gardiner said with amusement. “Lizzy too has recounted some stimulating conversations with you while walking the lanes with Jane and Mr. Bingley. What thought you of Hertfordshire?”

  “I found it a charming landscape. The view from Oakham Mount was especially fine.” He ventured a look at Elizabeth. “We did not want for birds to shoot nor intelligent conversation.”

  She met his eyes and smiled, and he felt everything shift within: his hope and happiness surmounting the fear and regret. His chest filled with a contentment he had not known for weeks. He returned her smile, and she blushed.

  “You enjoyed the society?” Mrs. Gardiner voiced.

  “Very much,” Darcy replied in a warm voice. He managed to pull his eyes away from Elizabeth.

  “My brother said it was a pretty area, less wild than in the north. Derbyshire is quite rugged,” Georgiana supplied, eager to add to the conversation.

  “You must miss the country,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes, although London has tigers and peacocks, and I have enjoyed my new friends.”

  “I regret that some of those new friends were too out of sorts to join us tonight, but I do hope you will see Lily and her brothers again soon.” Mrs. Gardiner smiled at Georgiana and turned to her host with an enquiry. “Did you encounter Lizzy’s cousin Mr. Collins while in Meryton? He seems a busy man, bursting with ideas, however not always wise in sharing them.”

  Elizabeth spoke up hurriedly. “Aunt, Mr. Collins is an odd fit for a clergyman. Modesty is not one of his virtues nor one he aspires to, though he would beg to differ.”

  “Repeatedly and with great excitement,” Darcy added quietly.

  All attention swung to him. His cheeks reddened, he begged their indulgence for his comment. “Mr. Collins is vicar at Hunsford, my aunt’s parsonage, and he has proved himself difficult these past weeks.”

  “Much has proved difficult these past weeks,” Georgiana said.

  Mrs. Gardiner squeezed her hand. “I am sorry for the loss of your cousin. She was but a young woman.”

  As Georgiana nodded, Elizabeth and Darcy both busied themselves with all the activities that eating can entail, from the cutting of meat to the chewing of bread to the drinking of a long draught of wine.

  “She was,” Georgiana agreed. “’Tis all a great mystery to me. My family is wonderful but so complicated.”

  Darcy cursed inwardly. Richard had urged a delay in telling Georgiana the details behind Anne’s so-called death and the drama presently occurring with her mother, her husband, and their unborn child. How he wished he had not agreed. It had been awkward not to apprise Elizabeth of the sordid tale—or inversely, the happy news, if one focused solely on Anne’s return to the living. At this moment, silence and a talent for changing the conversation were both his best allies and his greatest trials.

  “Oh, Georgiana, all families are complicated, and each is happy in its own way,” Elizabeth said in a bright voice. “That is both the joy and the disaster of family.”

  Darcy stared, awed at Elizabeth’s social finesse as she leaned closer to the wide-eyed girl. “Has your brother told you of my four sisters? All so different in their own particular ways.”

  “Four sisters.” Georgiana sighed. “You are so fortunate, Elizabeth. I am sure they are all as pleasant company as you have been for my brother and me.”

  “Indeed,” asserted Mr. Gardiner. “My nieces are not peas in a pod, but each is a singular person.”

  “What my uncle means to say is that the Bennet girls of Longbourn are a motley mix of personalities. My eldest sister, Jane, is being courted by your friend Mr. Bingley. Two kinder hearts could not be found.”

  Georgiana smiled. “How lovely.”

  “My next younger sister, Mary, is a great reader who enjoys sharing her knowledge. Lydia, the youngest, loves to dance and to laugh.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “She is a bit of a merrymaker.”

/>   Who knows her metaphors from her similes, Darcy thought.

  “Those three are indeed quite different, but all sound so interesting,” Georgiana exclaimed. “What of your fourth sister?”

  Darcy found himself unable to keep his eyes away from Elizabeth. He revelled in hearing the teasing lilt returned to her voice with her eyes shining and her lips curved in a small smile.

  “Oh, Kitty is but a year older than you are, and like Mary, she is quite earnest. Rather than literature, however, she has applied herself to bettering her deportment and manner. In this, she is guided by Miss Bingley.”

  “Oh dear,” Georgiana gasped. A moment later, she clapped her hand over her mouth.

  Darcy gave his sister a reassuring smile. “Miss Catherine is, like all Miss Bennet’s sisters, intelligent and quite pleasant.” He paused, feeling Elizabeth’s eyes on him. “I believe she finds Miss Bingley a fascinating creature of study, and she is gaining knowledge of fashion and social customs from her.”

  “Miss Bingley does possess great familiarity with social customs, fabrics, and fashions. It is kind of her to lend her expertness,” Georgiana said doubtfully. “She is eager to offer me similar advice.”

  “You and Miss Catherine may find it advantageous to combine forces,” Darcy said, “should you ever meet.”

  Finally, he looked directly at Elizabeth. Her eyes were merry, but her expression was one of disbelief. He smiled a small, gentle smile and enquired of Mrs. Gardiner whether Thomas and Lily were, like their brother, to visit the menagerie.

  ***

  The colonel found his cousin’s friends greatly to his liking. The Gardiners were intelligent, well mannered, and good-humoured, an exceptional combination and one rarely found in his own family. Miss Bennet certainly was not the sort of lady Darcy was expected to marry and the complete opposite of spindly, wheezy, wanton Anne. That dress is not responsible for that figure, he mused in appreciation before quickly reprimanding himself. She is Darcy’s. Do not look there.