Other Mr. Darcy

by Monica Fairview

  There was a momentary pause in the conversation, until someone mentioned Napoleon’s defeat at Leipzig, and the conversation took another direction.

  While the gentlemen remained to smoke and drink their port, the ladies hurried to prepare for the dance. Though the dance was meant to be informal, a small orchestra had been hired and, as the musicians tuned their instruments, Lydia, Georgiana, and Kitty waited with growing impatience for the dancing to begin.

  By and by the gentlemen returned to join them. Robert came across to Caroline. Mr Darcy had already requested Robert and Caroline lead the first dance instead of the Darcys, since he was uncertain of Eliza’s health. The opening dance being a minuet, Caroline chose a slow, stately step, though she had to endure many droll remarks from Robert about ladies who liked to crawl around the ballroom.

  She sat out the next set, expecting Sir Cecil to find an excuse to speak to her, but she discovered him leading a thin young lady, Miss Enlow, onto the dance floor. She was even more put out to see her sister dancing with Lord Dedton. Upon reflection, however, she supposed that, since the dance was informal, no one could raise any real objections, and she was glad to see Louisa smiling and flirting again. It was to be hoped that, with some distraction, Louisa’s disappointment over Captain Trewson would soon be a thing of the past.

  As the next dance ended, Caroline sought out Sir Cecil. He was leaving the ballroom. Casting a quick look around to make sure no one would notice, she followed, planning to slip out behind him. They had not had an opportunity to talk, and she owed it to him to provide such an opportunity.

  Lord Dedton was in the hallway, however, so she drew back behind the door, expecting him to step back into the ballroom. But Sir Cecil stopped him.

  “Enjoying the party, Rynes?” said Lord Dedton.

  “Hardly,” remarked Sir Cecil. “Rather insipid, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think I may be onto something,” said Dedton.

  “If you mean your attention to Mrs Hurst, it is very marked, wouldn’t you say? Allow me to point out that you are quite wasting your time. She is not the kind of lady to let a man between her sheets.”

  “Oh, that is not my purpose. She would need to be more attractive for that.”

  “Then what could it possibly be? Surely you are not contemplating marriage? Not with Mrs Hurst!”

  “I am in need of money, Rynes. She has quite a neat fortune to her name. And she doesn’t seem too particular. Most of the unmarried ladies are not allowed near me, you know. Everyone knows my pockets are to let, and I’m too close to the debtors’ prison for comfort. You know how it is with cards. If I could get my hands on a decent sum of money, and pay off what I owe, I plan to leave gambling behind me for good.”

  “I congratulate you on your resolution. A rich wife would do very well. But your mother would certainly not approve a marriage to Mrs Hurst.”

  “Because she was married before? I care little for that. She’s not the type to cuckold a man. Rather a quiet little thing. Hurst always said so. Beside, I don’t have much choice.”

  “Even so. You can do far better. She smells of shop—whole family does. Shipping. The father made the money himself. He did well by them and educated them at a select seminary, so you could never tell. But they still smell of shop.

  “Good Lord! You’re quite right. My mother would suffer an apoplexy. Why didn’t I know of this before?”

  “They are understandably reticent about it. No one mentions their family. Mind you, the family is respectable—nothing troubling in their background. Just not—you know.” Sir Cecil clapped Lord Dedton on the shoulder, and they began to move down the hall together. “You look disappointed,” said Sir Cecil. “I hope I have not spoken out of turn.”

  “No, I’m very grateful, in fact. Saved me a lot of time and trouble, Rynes. I’ll have to find someone else, of course. There was some rumour, a while ago, that you were interested in Miss Bingley for yourself.”

  “Shouldn’t believe rumours. She was after me and I admit I was briefly tempted by the money. But I would never marry beneath me. Plenty of fish in the sea, you know. Now Miss Enlow, on the other hand—”

  “No, not her! She’s all sharp angles, and has a nose like a turnip.”

  “But she has a fat fortune to match it,” said Sir Cecil. “If I were you—”

  Caroline did not wait to hear Sir Cecil’s advice. She walked slowly into clamour of the ballroom. She heard Lydia’s laughter, a little too shrill, as though she was trying too hard to be merry. She saw Robert, skipping briskly down the line with Georgiana. She noticed Mary, who generally did not dance, solemnly joining hands with Mr Bass as their turn came.

  She could understand now the clergyman’s need to provide quotations for every occasion. She clung to a line of verse that popped into her head like a lifeline, deriving a strange comfort from it. All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.

  She would play. She would not leave the ballroom. She would not let Sir Cecil’s remarks upset her, though when she looked down at her hands she found they were shaking.

  His opinion did not really matter.

  Some of her turbulence eased. But then she heard her sister’s laughter again and everything returned. With a word he had destroyed Louisa’s chances. His very manner of speaking jolted her. She could not forgive him his callous deliberation and heartless summation of Louisa’s prospects.

  And she had seriously considered being tied to him for life.

  Bitter laughter soured her throat. As if it mattered that she had chosen him as a prospective husband. Clearly, she had once again chosen badly, blind to her position in society. Had she really thought that by dressing well and speaking well she could become part of Sir Cecil’s circle?

  The clink of a glass close by returned her to her surroundings. She could not stand like this in the middle of a ballroom, looking like her world had just fallen apart.

  She smoothed down her skirt, and, pulling herself together, pasted a smile on her face. She moved towards the dancers, determined to join the next set.

  As luck would have it, Mr Maine asked her to dance. It was a country dance and to her surprise, Mr and Mrs Darcy took their place at the top of the room. Caroline was distracted from her own worries by concern for Eliza, who was calling the dance, but after several minutes passed and Eliza displayed no sign of fatigue, she was able to relax. She herself had quickly regretted her impulse of joining in, for she could not focus, and stumbled a few times, which was quite apparent when there were so few dancers. The dance was slow, and Mr Maine’s lethargic dancing did nothing to satisfy her need for a more turbulent dance to match her mood. A reel would have served the purpose far better.

  She recalled the reel she had danced with Robert. The memory lightened her spirit, and she looked over towards him. He caught her glance and waved, though he was in the middle of dancing. How very like him.

  Finally, the music drew to an end. Caroline exchanged a few polite words with Mr Maine, then excused herself, drifting over in the direction of the refreshments and pretending to procure herself a drink.

  “Having a pleasant evening?” said the familiar voice.

  He would know within a few seconds that she was not. She resolved not to burden him, for he looked to be enjoying himself. She pretended to be engrossed in pouring herself some ratafia, but her hand shook and she spilled some over the side.

  He took the glass from her. “Caroline! Whatever is the matter? Are you ill?”

  She had hoped for her distress to remain undetected, but she should have known that Robert was too discerning not to notice.

  “Too much sherry?” she said, attempting a smile.

  “Come,” he said, taking her arm.

  “Not to the library.” she said.

  “Not to the library. But only because I happen to be aware that it is occupied.” He led her up the stairs to the small parlour where Eliza spent most of her days.

&nb
sp; “Tell me what has happened to upset you so badly.”

  She was more than reluctant to tell him. Her mind went back to those discussions they had had when she first met him, and her face burned with shame when she thought of how she had held up Sir Cecil as the model of a gentleman. Robert Darcy would surely despise her now completely.

  She should not have come up to the parlour with him. She could not tell him what happened. “I am tired. I have been sleeping poorly for several days now. I think my exhaustion is catching up with me.”

  “I think I know you well enough to know when you are being elusive,” he remarked.

  The flash of anger his remark provoked gave her the excuse she needed to turn him away. “Why do you always presume to know me? What do you really know about me? About my hopes and my dreams? About my childhood? About my family? About my schooling? You know nothing. You do not even begin to know who I am.”

  She stopped herself. She should not be lashing out at Robert. He was hardly to blame.

  The bottom had fallen out of her world. How could she explain that without earning his contempt? After all their talk about Sir Cecil being her suitor?

  No, she did not want to tell him.

  “I am sorry, I should not have come with you here.”

  She was seized by an intense yearning to put her head on his shoulder and cry her eyes out. But of course, she could not.

  She had to leave. If she stayed too long he would find a way to discover what had happened. She moved towards the door, but he intercepted her.

  As if he had read her thoughts, he drew her to him. She wanted to resist, but her hands reached out of their own volition, and circled his neck. Her face nuzzled the hard warmth of his chest. He stroked her hair, his hands moving backwards on her head in gentle sweeps. She did not sob as she expected. Instead she became aware of the swift beating of his heart, the whiff of clean soap from his dark coat, the solid pressure of his arms against her back, the firmness of his body against hers. She breathed in the scent of him.

  She tore herself away.

  “I need… to go,” she said. “Please make my excuses to Eliza and Mr Darcy. I need… to think.”

  And she fled, before the words poured out of her throat.

  ***

  In the ignominy of her chamber, she struggled to bring her turbulent emotions under control.

  The insult she had received at the hand of Sir Cecil smarted like an open gash, and, for the first time in her life, she understood duelling. If she were a man, she would have challenged him for such a blow to her pride. But she was not. She did not have the chance to flourish her sword and teach him not to speak of her family this way.

  But her anger towards Sir Cecil was nothing compared to her confusion at behaving as she had with Robert. She had never truly forgiven him for witnessing her outburst on that fateful day when she had first met him. He had seen her at her weakest moment and part of her still resented him because of it. Yet time and time again she had been stripped of her defences before him, as though, having done it once at the beginning, she was doomed to repeat it, like a theme with variations in a musical set.

  Today, it had gone too far. She could no longer answer for the consequences.

  She had to be alone, as she had not been since this outlandish trip to Pemberley began. She had to sort out how to proceed with her life, having discovered now what she could expect from society. And she had to decide what to do with Robert, who had invaded her life, but who was not there to stay.

  Perhaps she would take advantage of Mrs Germain’s kind offer to stay with her in her London town house. There was her brother’s town house as well, of course, but she would not be comfortable there alone. She did not want to go to a silent house. She wanted time to reflect so she could regain her sense of reality.

  The idea of being with Mrs Germain comforted her. She would spend some time in London, outside her usual circle of friends. She would slowly recover herself. She did not like the country. She understood now why poets such as Wordsworth and Coleridge spoke of the country in the way they did. In the country, one could lose the civilizing affect of town life. In the country, if one was not too careful, one could lose oneself.

  Having formed that resolve, she felt considerably more tranquil. She went to bed with a sense of purpose. She slept heavily through the night, waking more refreshed than she had for a long time.

  It was time to build her defences differently, and to start her life anew.

  Chapter 19

  Caroline was heartily glad the next morning to be rid of the London party. She had never met with such insufferable self-importance. She took a particular aversion to Lord Dedton’s high starched shirt points, which reached up to the middle of his cheeks. How he was able to see anything around him when he could hardly move his head was beyond her.

  It would not do, of course, to reveal her distaste, so she took her leave of them all with every sign of civility, and even agreed to see some of the ladies on their return to London.

  “I am very sorry to say good-bye to Lord Dedton,” remarked Louisa, as the carriage departed and they walked back into the house. “He paid me a great deal of attention. I found him very agreeable.”

  “Well, I did not,” snapped Caroline. “You would do well to stay away from him. He has a reputation for heavy gambling.”

  “You cannot mean it, Caroline!” said her sister, staring at her. “I have heard nothing of the sort.”

  “Allow me to know what I am talking about. I was right about Mr Trewson, was I not? Believe me when I tell you I am right in this as well,” she said, steadily. Louisa’s eyes reflected her distress. Caroline sighed. She wished she could tell Louisa what she had overheard. But she knew it would hurt her sister far more to know the truth. She would not accept it.

  She would spare her that knowledge, but she could not allow her to harbour any illusions about Lord Dedton.

  “You are a cold person, Caroline. I do believe you have no feelings at all.”

  Caroline remembered Robert’s words. Did she really come across as so cold and unfeeling? “You are probably right,” said Caroline, with another sigh. “But I care enough about you to prevent you from making another mistake.” Louisa winced, and Caroline, wishing things were otherwise, added gently. “You must trust me in this, Louisa.”

  Louisa left her abruptly and returned to the drawing room. Caroline had not told her yet of her decision to go alone to London. She would have to tell her, of course, but she did not care to open a Pandora’s box. Louisa would insist on coming with her. Then Charles would insist on opening up the town house and would not hear of her staying with Mrs Germain, who was virtually a stranger. And Eliza would wonder why Caroline was leaving after she had explicitly asked her to stay.

  Why did everything have to be connected with everything else? Why were the threads of her life so entangled?

  She climbed to her room to supervise the packing. She had already instructed Molly to begin packing the moment she had woken, and there was very little left to do. Caroline had always admired Molly’s bustling competence, but today she appreciated her more than ever. She thanked her for her hard work, then went in search of Eliza.

  Caroline did not want to disappoint Eliza, but she had no choice. Hopefully, Eliza would understand. She had come to value her friendship and did not want to jeopardize it. She had discovered Eliza to be good-natured as well as intelligent, and Caroline knew she would be a good influence on Mr Darcy. She already was, in fact.

  Eliza’s reaction was just as expected. “But why this sudden decision, Caroline? Did anything untoward happen? I had really hoped you would stay. I did not ask you out of politeness, you know,” said Eliza, when Caroline had told her of her intentions.

  “Yes, I am aware of that. But I really need to go.”

  “But why alone? Mr Darcy has not said something to offend you, has he?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Is it anything to do with Robert, then
?”

  “No. Nothing like that. It is just that I have some decisions to make, and I cannot think clearly surrounded by a houseful of people.”

  Eliza nodded. She still had blue shadows under her eyes, but a touch of pink now coursed through her cheeks. She was on the road to recovery. “Well, if I cannot change your mind, all that remains is to wish you a safe journey. You will be missed here.” She hesitated. “Will you be telling my husband about the end of your engagement? You have not told him the truth yet, I believe.”

  Caroline closed her eyes. Eliza was right. She could not go without explaining the situation to Mr Darcy. And then, yes, she would have to end the engagement. The illusory engagement. “Yes. I think it would be better to do so. In fact, I will speak to him without delay, if he is not too occupied to see me.”

  She went in search of him. She discovered him poring over papers with his overseer, but her business could not wait. “I will not take long, Mr Darcy, but I particularly wish to speak with you privately. I have come to bid you good-bye.”

  The overseer excused himself, saying he would return later.

  “So you are leaving us?” said Mr Darcy, in a quite friendly manner. “I believe Eliza will miss you.”

  She smiled. “Yes, we have become friends. But I have stayed long enough, and London beckons.” She held back, uncertain how to begin, then took the plunge. “I have an announcement to make as well, which is why I wanted to speak to you alone. I believe this will be good news for you, since it is what you wished. My engagement with your cousin is at an end.”

  His smile disappeared. He was stunned. She had expected him to be pleased, or triumphant, or to gloat, even, but instead he looked dejected.

  “May I ask for the reason for this change? For I have observed that you and my cousin seem to deal tolerably well together,” he said, regarding her intently. “I hope nothing that I said—I overstepped my boundaries the other day.”

  “No. Rest assured that it was not that. It is just that I have realized we will not suit, especially since I believe he has every intention of returning to Boston.”