Other Mr. Darcy
Page 8
“That is because you have no history,” said Caroline.
“We may not have a list of the names of kings and queens to recite, but you may be certain that we have a past.” He smiled, but his tone was prickly. “But that is another matter entirely. Perhaps,” he said, steering the topic in another direction, “you might care to tell me your idea of the ideal English gentleman.”
Caroline smiled, on comfortable ground here. There could be no doubt what constituted an English gentleman. “An English gentleman is a gentleman by birth,” she said, with absolute certainty.
Robert Darcy’s eyes danced. “So I have heard. But tell me what you consider the qualities that define him.”
She looked at him with pity. Anyone who was a gentleman would know the answer to such a question. But she decided to humour him.
“An English gentleman must be cultured, well educated, and must observe the proprieties under all circumstances,” she asserted. “He must dance elegantly and play the pianoforte tolerably well. He must be meticulously dressed in the latest fashion. He must be proficient in riding, hunting and fishing, sword fighting and perhaps boxing, though some might consider boxing too rough and common. He must command respect at every turn, and must carry himself confidently and proudly.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Good God! And do you know any such gentleman?”
“Of course,” she replied, nodding confidently and sending him a satisfied smile.
“What a paragon he must be!” he said. “But please continue with your definition, for it is most instructive. Has a gentleman no responsibilities? How does he spend his days? Does he do nothing?”
“If you mean work,” replied Caroline readily, “Then naturally that is to be avoided. However, a gentleman will busy himself with matters of his estate and the management of his properties.”
“But has he no obligations towards others?” insisted Robert Darcy.
“Well, it goes without saying that he must care for his tenants, and be concerned for the welfare of those who are dependent on him. That is an unspoken law.”
“Then all gentlemen deal well with those in their care?” said Robert Darcy.
“Those who are worthy of the name,” she replied.
He went to the side table, helped himself to some pickled herring, and returned.
“But what of those who neglect their properties and gamble away their inheritance while the tenant homes fall into disrepair? What of the father who is indifferent to the well-being of his children? Or the brother who casts out his younger sisters to depend on the charity of others? Are these then to be considered gentlemen? Merely because of their birth?” He spoke in an impassioned manner that embarrassed her.
“I know none who is guilty of such conduct,” she replied. But she could think of many such cases in Society. Still, it did not mean there were no gentlemen who were upright and respectable.
She struck back at him. “Are you perhaps a republican, Mr Darcy? Do you subscribe to such ideals as those of the French Revolution? Are you one of those who, like Napoleon, would deprive the rightful owners of their property and divide their estates among the rabble?”
Robert Darcy put his hands behind his head, and, leaning back, he inspected her with lazy amusement. “I believe I have angered you, Miss Bingley.”
“Not at all,” she replied, tartly. “There will always be those who have more money, and those who are less fortunate. That is the way of the world. And meanwhile, we have a gentlemanly code to ensure that gentlemen will behave as they ought, and not give in to lawlessness and their baser instincts. After all, without laws and standards, disorder will reign, as it did in the Revolution.”
Robert Darcy shook his head. With a broad smile, he came to his feet. “This is far too serious a conversation to have over breakfast,” he remarked. “Not when the sun shines so brilliantly outside. I am afraid neither of us has adhered to the agreement we made at the beginning.”
“What agreement?” she asked.
He gave a gasp of exaggerated outrage. “You cannot have forgotten so quickly, Miss Bingley! We agreed only to discuss bland subjects, like the weather, for example. What do you think, will the sunshine last, or should we make the best of it and go for a stroll outside?”
“I doubt very much it will last. But that does not require great powers of prediction. Only a basic experience of English weather,” she replied. Then she realized she had not answered the rest of his question. “I think a short stroll would be quite the thing,” she said, “but on one condition.”
“Already setting conditions?” he said. “Can a gentleman never have peace? Oh, but I forgot. I cannot possibly qualify as a gentleman,” he sighed. “Very well. What is your condition?”
“You need to give me time to fetch my pelisse.”
He stared at her, then guffawed. “Why, Miss Bingley,” he said. “I do believe that was a joke!” His face twisted in comic surprise, and she was forced to smile. “Certainly. By all means fetch your pelisse. I have no desire to be trapped in the library with you yet again.”
Naturally, he had to spoil it.
***
She returned downstairs to find him engaged in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Good morning, Miss Bingley,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, gazing at her intensely. He took her hand and, to her embarrassment, brought it to his lips. Caroline was very aware of the watchful eyes of Darcy.
“A beautiful morning, is it not?” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“It certainly is,” she said.
“We are planning to discover the grounds,” said Robert Darcy. “Perhaps you would care to join us?”
The invitation displeased Caroline, since she had not yet determined how to behave towards the colonel. She braced herself.
“Much as I am tempted,” he replied, addressing her, “I fear I must decline. I have not yet breakfasted, and I am in need of strong coffee.”
Robert Darcy laughed. “That will teach you to down so much port at one sitting.”
“I barely touched the port. I was particularly careful not to,” protested Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Robert Darcy prodded him in the direction of the breakfast-room. “I do not wish to pick a quarrel with a man who has not yet eaten. Have your coffee, then come and find me. I will be more than happy to oblige at that point, if you still desire it.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled ruefully and withdrew.
“Did you stay up until the early hours with Colonel Fitzwilliam then, Mr Darcy?” said Caroline conversationally, as they stepped out into the bright sunshine. It was a crisp, autumn day, with a bite to the air that promised frost again at night. For now, however, the sun was warm on her skin, and she relished it. Though she probably ought to have brought her parasol.
“Yes. And he had some significant news to impart,” said Robert Darcy.
“News?” she asked.
“You need not feign innocence, Miss Bingley,” he said. “He has already informed me that he asked for your hand in marriage.”
Caroline tightened her lips. She had not wanted Robert Darcy to know what had transpired. It frustrated her no end that he was so well informed about her private concerns. Could not the colonel have kept the information to himself?
Well it was not Darcy’s fault that the colonel had chosen to confide in him.
“Yes, indeed,” she replied, briefly. If he was hoping to learn more, he would be disappointed
“Little wonder, then, that you were so absorbed that you did not notice the cold,” he remarked. “You puzzled me yesterday
. But now that I know the facts, I would say that accounts for it.”
“It does not account for any such thing. I was well aware of the cold, but I could not find a way to leave without causing offence.”
“Come, come, Miss Bingley. Let us have the truth. You mean to hide your romantic inclinations from me. But the truth of the matter is that few ladies can resist having a gentleman fall to his knees before them and propose marriage.”
The reality of the situation was so far from his depiction that Caroline could not help exclaiming, “But I assure you, Colonel Fitzwilliam did no such thing!”
“What? And now you will tell me he did not express his undying devotion, either.”
Caroline tried to recollect what Colonel Fitzwilliam had said. Her thoughts had been so taken up by the cold, and his proposal had so taken her by surprise, that she had paid little attention to his words. But now that Robert Darcy mentioned it, she realized that Colonel Fitzwilliam had not in fact expressed sentiment of any kind.
“Gentlemen of my class, Mr Darcy, do not generally advocate such sentimental notions. Our marriages are a matter of convenience and rational choice.”
“So he did not express his undying devotion? No wonder you were so cold, in that case.”
“You are quite absurd, Mr Darcy. I was cold because the weather was cold. It is quite simple.”
He shrugged. “But did you not wish for it, just a little?”
“No,” she replied categorically. “I did not even notice that it was missing, until you pointed it out.”
“I confess myself quite baffled,” he replied. “I cannot think of marriage in such indifferent terms,” he said. “I admit to having quite romantic notions about it.”
She threw him a disapproving look. “I am sure you do, Mr Darcy.”
“And you despise me for it, do you not?” He was smiling.
Caroline did not think her opinion mattered one bit to him. He was simply baiting her for his own amusement.
“I can neither praise you nor despise you. It is not for me to judge your conduct.”
“Oh, Miss Bingley,” he said, lightly. “But I think you already have.”
She was not sure of her footing in this strange banter of theirs, so she took refuge in silence.
They continued to stroll along the garden path for a few moments more.
“I wonder if we could resume one of our previous conversations, Miss Bingley,” he said. “You have told me you know a perfect gentleman. Is that the gentleman in London? Is he the one your sister mentioned? Sir Cecil?”
She should not be surprised. Nothing escaped his notice, it seemed. She wanted to groan out loud, and to ask him to go away. “You will have it out of me, whether I wish it or not. So I will save time and inform you of his identity. His name is Sir Cecil Rynes.”
“I am not acquainted with him,” said Robert Darcy.
“As I said before, I do not think we move in exactly the same circles.”
“I hope I do not move in circles at all,” said Robert Darcy.
She must not encourage him by laughing. But her mouth twitched of its own accord, betraying her.
“Let us return to this gentleman of yours. Is he really such a paragon as you described? The perfect gentleman?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir Cecil is the embodiment of such an ideal,” she replied firmly, refusing to allow him to sow any doubt in her mind.
“Why then,” he asked, “is he not here? Surely he would have been willing to escort you to Pemberley? Instead, here you are, forced to endure my company, and to receive proposals from Colonel Fitzwilliam while shivering in the cold.”
“I fail to see in what way this should concern you.”
“Oh, it does not concern me at all. But I am plagued by a tendency to be curious, and I have never quite succeeded in controlling it.”
“I have no intention, in this situation, of satisfying this tendency of yours. Perhaps, if you deny it often enough, it will shrivel up and die. And then you will be very well rid of it.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling. “But that would be such a terrible loss.”
Were it not for the fact that his goal was to extract gossip about her own life, she might have laughed. But she had no intention of revealing any more of her own affairs to him. He already knew far too much, far more even than her own brother.
“Not for those who are harmed by such gossip,” she said, severely.
“Now you malign me. I have no interest in rumour-mongering. In fact, you will rarely meet a person who is less inclined to pass on information. I just like to be possessed of the facts. I find that it prevents misunderstandings.”
“What misunderstanding are you referring to, in this case?”
“The possibility that you may be encouraging Colonel Fitzwilliam while you are already committed to another.” He spoke seriously now. His gaze, as it met hers, glittered with an emotion she could not identify.
“How dare you suggest such a thing, sir?” she said. Her voice was slightly raised, but at this moment she did not care. “What have I done to encourage Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“Why did you not invite Sir Cecil to accompany us?” he asked, still completely earnest. “Why did you invite the colonel instead?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam had asked the same question yesterday. And now Robert Darcy was seizing upon it as if it proved her guilt. What was she guilty of? Of what were they accusing her, exactly?
“I think I told you before, Mr Darcy, that I am not obliged to explain my conduct to you.”
“I am trying to protect a friend of mine.”
“Since when was Colonel Fitzwilliam your friend?” she cried. “I have certainly never heard of it.”
Robert Darcy bowed. “Perhaps you are right. I am allowing my concern for him to override my sense. Come, let us not quarrel. I find myself confused by the turn of events, that is all. I apologize if I have overstepped any boundaries.”
But Caroline was not to be so easily pacified. Stung by this repeated suggestion that there was something improper about her conduct, she spoke with more emphasis perhaps than was necessary. “You asked me about my relationship with Sir Cecil. Well, I will tell you. I have reason to expect a proposal from him, and if I receive it, I will accept.”
She waited as two young ladies whispering and laughing rounded a corner, then continued, more quietly, “But there has been no proposal yet, and until that happens, I am free to consider anyone else who does request my hand. I fail to see what is improper about that.”
A few minutes passed before he spoke.
“I wish to apologize yet again,” said Robert Darcy. “You have been open with me, and I will return the favour by being open with you. I should point out to you, perhaps, that my concern with Colonel Fitzwilliam’s situation stems from having encountered a similar situation in my own life.” He gestured her to a stone bench in a corner between two hedges.
“I was once very much in love with a young lady. She was considered the perfect match for me in every way, so my family strongly encouraged the connection, as did her family. The date of our wedding was set, and everything appeared to be going perfectly.”
He paused. He leaned back on his hands, his eyes fixed on the hedge above them. “Then the night before the wedding she came to visit me. She informed me that she had, in fact, been secretly engaged to someone else for years, and that they had been waiting for her to come of age to get married. I had appeared on the scene and offered for her, thus complicating things considerably. She had married her husband in secret that very day, a day after her birthday. In the circumstances, naturally,
she needed to cancel our wedding.”
He sat up and dusted some gravel from his hands. The hard bench had made red imprints on his palms. He ceased talking as if to inspect the blemishes.
“The only mercy was she had told me before the ceremony. I had just enough time to inform the clergyman who was to marry us, and to leave a notice on the church door saying the wedding would not take place.”
He made a dismissive gesture then ran his fingers through his hair. “It hurt, shall we say. It hurt a great deal. But the worst of it was—there was no need for any of it. Had she confided in me at the beginning, I would have been spared the humiliation of having gone so far, as well as the embarrassment of cancelling the wedding at the last minute. At least my pride would not have suffered.”
His eyes bore into hers. “That is why, Miss Bingley, I have become tenacious about this issue. I have come to believe that directness and openness are vitally important if one is to avoid painful and sudden revelations. In your case, I wished to spare Colonel Fitzwilliam. It is none of my concern, I know. But if you are engaged to someone else, I hope you will be kind enough to inform him of the fact rather than giving him false hope.”
Caroline was not sure how to react to his confession. She had never been the recipient of a gentleman’s confidence before, except for Charles, of course, and did not know what was expected. Part of her wanted to comfort him, the other part said that surely he would not welcome pity, and that a grown man did not need to be comforted.
And the biggest part of her wanted to thump him on the head with her reticule, and tell him not to interfere in her affairs.