Mendacity and Mourning

by J. L. Ashton

  He had fallen quiet at times during the meal, marvelling at Georgiana’s eager conversation and Darcy’s smiles. The smiles of a smitten simpleton. Richard was no schoolboy; he had seen the dark glance Darcy sent his way when he gazed too long upon Miss Bennet. She was an object of much fascination, and he fancied himself a man of science puzzling her out. Apparently, Darcy neither required nor appreciated his deductive skills. Jealous fool, and such a fortunate one. She is a gem.

  ***

  Although the party was small, the sexes separated when the men adjourned to Darcy’s study to peruse his books and enjoy his liquor. After accepting a glass of his host’s best port, Mr. Gardiner noted the finely tooled chairs and revealed his familiarity with the Italian leather house that created them. Darcy was impressed, and Richard appeared amused as he had all evening.

  “Quite a collection of books you have,” Mr. Gardiner said, comfortably ensconced in one of the fine chairs. His eyes were focused on one particular volume. “We share some titles in common. After my wife and children, nothing is closer to my heart than books: the smell of ink on the page and the feel of soft paper as I sink into the author’s thoughts.”

  “While I believe my sister and mementos of my parents would rate more highly should I be forced to choose, the books in my library are the items I most cherish.” Darcy suddenly chuckled.

  “What amuses you, sir?”

  “Your niece—she told me the story about Mr. Eggleston, the gentleman who had owned Netherfield, the estate my friend now leases.”

  “Ah yes. Mr. Bingley, the young man who is courting our Jane. What is the story?”

  “During an especially difficult winter a few years ago, he saved himself the trouble of chopping wood and burnt his books in order to stay warm.”

  “The savage!” Mr. Gardiner gasped.

  Richard shrugged. “You book lovers lack survival sense. One does what one needs to do during wartime.”

  “It was winter, Richard, not the battlefield.” Darcy glared at him and turned back to Elizabeth’s uncle. “My immediate thought as well, sir, but as your niece told the tale, it affected me less.”

  He trailed off, his cheeks reddening as he realised he had said too much. He saw Richard bite back a smirk and settle in his seat. Apparently, watching Darcy squirm in his own house was beyond delightful.

  “She revealed Mr. Eggleston’s dastardly folly in a light-hearted manner, so I found some amusement in it. In spite of the injustice done to literature, of course.” Darcy took a quick sip of his port and stared at his boots.

  “Lizzy is a bright, happy girl,” Mr. Gardiner said. “She rarely speaks an unkind word but, like her father, can voice amusing bon mots about nearly everything.” He smiled. “Lizzy’s observations, although true, are less biting.”

  “Yes.” Darcy struggled not to agree too enthusiastically.

  “Not everyone values nor understands that gift, and it is a gift.”

  “Indeed.” He found it difficult not to break into a foolish grin.

  “You remembered your conversations with her?”

  Darcy nodded and sipped more port.

  The older man glanced at the silent Richard before turning back to level a serious look at Darcy. “Sir, might I ask, is it your enjoyment of Lizzy’s company and conversation that brought you to our doorstep twice this week and led you to tender your most generous offer of dinner?”

  When he considered it later, Darcy realised he could have sparred and joked and passed off the question; however, in the moment it was asked, he was all sincerity.

  “Yes, sir, it is.” He paused and looked solemnly at Mr. Gardiner. “I care deeply for your niece. I wish for her friendship with my sister—and with myself.”

  “Friendship,” Mr. Gardiner repeated.

  “Yes, at the very least. I shall accept what she offers.”

  The older man expressed surprise. “This is a sudden event—or was it spurred by your visit to Netherfield? When you were mourning your betrothed?”

  Darcy sighed.

  “Sir, I mourned my cousin, not my betrothed. We were not engaged. Due to some unfortunate events and mistruths by others, I have a series of misunderstandings to unravel and explain.”

  Mr. Gardiner’s eyebrows rose. “As this story affects my niece, I must ask how much she knows.”

  “Very little. I need time to talk to her. We have been subject to many misunderstandings.”

  “So you did not leave my niece in a difficult situation when you left Meryton, subject to gossip about your lack of a declaration?”

  “To my everlasting grief, I did, but most unknowingly.”

  “She was surrounded by rumour and half-truths.”

  Never one to enjoy a foxhunt, Darcy suddenly realised he would never again chase down a creature for sport or pleasure. He could feel only sympathy for the poor frightened animals. He sighed. He had gone from being pursued for his money and name to being tracked and hunted for tales of his enormous blunders.

  “It makes for a long tale. If it will make you think better of me, I must tell it, but I beg your confidentiality. My sister remains unaware of many details. The colonel and I, who share guardianship of Georgiana, shall have a long conversation with her tomorrow.”

  Mr. Gardiner rose and refilled their glasses. “This sounds as if it is one of Scheherazade’s tales.”

  “I agree,” Richard added in an expectant tone. “Like you, I am in possession of only half the story.” He eyed Darcy, clearly wary about revealing details of the family’s simmering secrets.

  A minute ticked by in silence. “Mr. Darcy, I do not see the need for you to reveal secrets and confidences to me. It is your sister and Lizzy who need to hear them—if you wish to be my niece’s friend.”

  Darcy gestured at an envelope on his desk. “If I might beg your assistance, sir?”

  ***

  The stories being exchanged in the drawing room were less dramatic, but the three participants were equally engaged.

  When Mrs. Gardiner delicately asked Georgiana about her late summer sojourn in town, the girl sighed. “You have heard about the fate of my cousin Anne. She was not a happy person, really, but to die at a young age is tragic.”

  “It was sudden?”

  “Oh, Anne had always been ill…and discontented. Richard oftentimes mutters something about a chicken and an egg when that is said.” Georgiana shook her head in confusion, her blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders. “He is so funny, but I do not always follow his jokes and jibes. My brother tells me it is best to look at him disapprovingly as that will put an end to Richard’s behaviour.”

  “Indeed?” Elizabeth tried not to laugh at the girl’s confusion.

  “Yes, though it rarely dampens his fun. Fitzwilliam says Richard inherited all the family’s silliness, Anne all the sourness, and I all the sweetness.” Georgiana reddened, suddenly aware of the compliment she had paid herself. “I do not mean I have all the sweetness…”

  Mrs. Gardiner gave her a gentle smile. “Ah, but you have much of it. What of your brother? What does he have?”

  “Strength, I think, and intelligence. Oh, and kindness, though that would make my cousin laugh.”

  “Well, he is silly, after all.” Elizabeth smiled mischievously.

  Georgiana laughed nervously. “In spite of their differences, Richard and my brother are quite close. Fitzwilliam has been fighting with our family, especially Lady Catherine, for weeks. He wishes to keep the particulars from me, but Richard has supported him throughout and told me not to fret over Fitzwilliam’s dark moods. I worry it is my fault.”

  Elizabeth stared, horrified, at the young girl. He has been at war over his affections for me, for his behaviour in Meryton, for whatever he did or did not promise to his family about Anne. And I berate hi
m for it.

  Her aunt quickly spoke. “Miss Darcy, your brother would be your greatest defender. I cannot believe you could be the source of any disagreement in your family.”

  “But…”

  “However, I do believe my two sons have had some jealous conversations over who would be the valiant knight to save the ‘golden-haired princess.’” She smiled at the girl, whose gloom vanished instantly upon hearing the pet name given her by Thomas and Henry.

  “Oh, I do wish your children could have accompanied you tonight. I hope to visit them again.”

  Mrs. Gardiner glanced around the finely furnished room. “I think my sons are best confined to the schoolroom, the nursery, and the kitchens.”

  After a moment, Georgiana announced that she would like to take the children to the park before she and her brother left for Marlbourn. “That house will be filled with adults and young ladies too interested in my brother to be a true friend for me.”

  Elizabeth was relieved when her aunt redirected the conversation to one of music and the gentle pokes her babies had given her when her nieces played or sang. “I hope this one kicks a bit less than did Henry.” She touched her stomach and laughed. At the light blush on Georgiana’s face, Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “We are all ladies here. I hope you do not mind such a comment.”

  “Oh no, babies are so sweet,” Georgiana assured her. “Your children are wonderful.” She appeared pleased to have been included in a discussion of such intimacy.

  Elizabeth smiled along with the conversation but stayed silent. She had summoned her resources to remain on alert and focused during the house tour, the many courses served, and now with the ladies. She could not play or sing tonight. The lightness in spirit she had felt when Mr. Darcy spoke of Hertfordshire and her sisters faded when Georgiana shared her confidences about her brother’s struggles and their plans for Marlbourn. She could not recall a time when her emotions travelled so abruptly from delight and joy to sadness and loss. It pained her to think how she would feel if this man truly mattered to her future happiness. He does not, much as he once thought he should. His thoughts again tend elsewhere.

  When the group reunited, she hoped only to make it through coffee and dessert. Her goal was to tell Mr. Darcy that she regretted her angry words and wished to part as friends. She was impatient for that moment, and it was especially difficult when her aunt and Mr. Darcy discovered a mutual interest in Derbyshire history. Elizabeth was weary in body and spirit, and she clenched her fist and dug her nails into her palm to keep awake. She enjoyed Georgiana’s playing and was saved from exhibiting a poor display of her talents only by the thoughtfulness of her aunt, who, noting her fatigue, prompted the colonel to tell an especially dramatic tale of battlefield bravery that he assured them would inspire the Gardiner sons to greatness. Soon, and finally, it was time to leave.

  Elizabeth thanked her hosts warmly and wished Georgiana well on her journey. The colonel bent over her hand and looked up to wink at her, saying it was a great pleasure to finally make her acquaintance. It left her concerned that he was yet another member of a rather strange family who assumed greater intimacy with her than was wise.

  Mr. Darcy drew near, and they were left alone when his family abandoned them to escort the Gardiners to their carriage. He looked down at her with a soft, worried expression. “I thank you for coming tonight. Are you well?” At her nod, he said gently, “I worry for you, knowing I have hurt you.”

  “You need not worry for me.”

  “Do not ask me to do the impossible.”

  “Do not do this,” she whispered. “Your family is at war, let it be. Your heart belongs elsewhere.”

  He looked at her, his eyes dark and serious. “Please, hear these few words, all of them true and all of them much delayed in the telling: I was never to marry Anne. She is not dead; she has married another.” When Elizabeth gasped, he leaned closer and whispered. “My family is never easy, but these past weeks have been a trial as we have grappled with the web of deceit and confusion her actions have created. They have distracted me from the true aim of my heart: you…and earning your love and respect.”

  She gazed up at him, confused and shocked. “She is alive? And married to another?”

  He nodded. “It was a surprise to us all. I learnt of it, of her well-being and her wedding, just a week ago.”

  “Oh my.”

  If Elizabeth felt dazed earlier, she was positively overcome now as his words sank in. “…the true aim of my heart: you…and earning your love and respect.”

  She looked up and met his gaze. Darcy’s eyes widened, and his finger rose to brush back a loose curl. Aware that the Gardiners were in the carriage and awaiting her, she took a step back from their intimate posture.

  “May I see you off in the morning?” Darcy’s voice was hoarse.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not know what to say…you do not listen.”

  “I hear what I wish to hear. I wish to hear a ‘yes.’”

  “You are an impossible man.” And so very persistent.

  She looked away but smiled shyly and quietly said, “Yes.”

  His eyes alight, Darcy called to the footman, who stepped forward with a package. “This book is for you, Miss Elizabeth. Your uncle was amenable to my giving it to you. I thought we might discuss it and other…subjects…when I visit Netherfield.”

  “You plan to return?”

  “Yes, of course I do. I must attend to some business here, and”—he pressed her hand and looked at her intently—“I hope my sister and I shall arrive at Netherfield by week’s end. With your permission, of course.”

  “Week’s end?” she repeated. “You and Georgiana? What of your friends…at the estate…?”

  He shook his head and gave her a hopeful look. “There is nothing, no one, for me there.”

  Elizabeth felt a warmth spread through her. She took the package and briefly closed her eyes. And so we begin the next chapter.

  “I thank you. Your presence at Netherfield would be agreeable, Mr. Darcy.”

  He looked dismayed. “Merely agreeable?”

  In spite of the shock she felt from his disclosures, Elizabeth knew his pain in facing them these past weeks must be greater. As he continued to put forth such a great effort with her, she felt he deserved more consideration. Besides, although his furrowed brow conjured warm thoughts of him as a worried little boy, she so preferred when he smiled. He was such a handsome man. She had never much cared for cleft chins; all the Goulding ladies had prominently cleaved chins, which gave them less than pleasing faces. But Mr. Darcy had a strong jaw and shy grin, and when his eyes brightened with happiness, Elizabeth had often found herself nearly undone.

  “I hope you will call on us at Longbourn,” she said softly. “I look forward to further conversations on topics neither of us canvass with others.” She gifted him a bright smile, and he beamed and squeezed her hand.

  Shaken with joy, she walked with him in silence towards the carriage. Each was able to supply a few courteous words to the Gardiners but little more. Elizabeth managed to avoid the indulgent looks of her relations, and she offered them one or two observations on the moon’s particular glow.

  Her mind was filled with thoughts of Mr. Darcy’s family struggles, his mysteriously wedded and quite troublesome cousin, and his desperately quick telling of it. It prevented her from settling into bed until quite late. She had been right about him from the beginning: Mr. Darcy was a puzzle, only now she urgently wished to piece him together.

  It was not until she was under the covers that she peeled the wrappings off the book. A letter fell to her lap, and she gasped at the neat handwriting that formed her name. Elizabeth ran her fingers over the thick black ink. She took a breath and looked at the book, nearly laughing at the familiar title: On the Modification of Clouds.

 
They would have at least one easy topic to canvass after all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Only two months earlier, Fitzwilliam Darcy would have described his life as routine. Rise and ride, bathe and shave, dress and dine. Read the post and write letters, address whatever estate issues required attention, spend time with his sister, and ride some more, fence, or walk—anything to wear off excess energy. Lord knew, he had far more energy to wear off these past couple of years than he had had since he was at Cambridge.

  Yet, since the day nearly two months ago when Mrs. Reynolds had reported discovering the too-friendly footman huddled in conversation with lonely, innocent Georgiana, he had not been able to enjoy the rolling hills, riding trails, and walking paths of Pemberley. Whether in town or on another’s estate, he instead was sentenced to a new routine: jumping on his horse and riding hither and yon to deal with the family’s latest outrage.

  Of late, he never knew what news might be delivered with his morning coffee or who might leave a card or pound on his door. But he knew it would be connected to his aunt, her daughter, or the still-unfolding spectacle they had created, ably assisted by the curious Peregrine Dumfries and the odious William Collins.

  Elizabeth’s cousin… It seemed they both had their lives made more difficult by a cousin. He smiled to think it was perhaps the only connection they shared that he wished they did not. He had found it difficult to sleep the previous night, thinking of all that had passed between them and recalling her words desperately pushing back against him.

  “You need not worry for me.”

  He was grateful he had been able to summon his wits and convey the truth to her. It had changed everything. His letter, which further explained the events of the past month, could only fortify that change.

  He took strength from remembering her parting words to him; they rolled back and forth in his mind. “I look forward to further conversations on topics neither of us canvass with others.”