Truth about Mr. Darcy

by Susan Adriani

  * * *

  The following day saw Darcy escorting his wife back to Mrs. Duval’s shoppe on Bond Street. If asked, it was an experience she would have been happy to forego. However, her husband had been adamant, pointing out that the acquisition of a mere eight new gowns would hardly carry the mistress of Pemberley through the Season. Elizabeth was forced to concede, albeit reluctantly, that he was correct.

  When the tiny bell on the shoppe door tinkled, announcing the Darcys’ arrival to all within, the bustling atmosphere altered dramatically. Dozens of eyes fixed themselves upon the handsome couple, several sets of which were accompanied by pale complexions and rounded mouths that suddenly felt as dry as a desert.

  Elizabeth, who was not feeling quite as comfortable as she would have wished under the circumstances, forced herself to swallow down any misgivings when she saw an elegant older woman rush forth to greet them. “Mr. Darcy,” she said in a warm voice, “what a pleasure to see you. Please allow me to offer you my sincerest congratulations on your marriage.” She turned kind eyes upon Elizabeth and smiled with sincerity.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Duval. I believe you have not yet had the pleasure of making my wife’s acquaintance.” Then, bestowing an affectionate smile upon Elizabeth, which he made very certain would not go unnoticed by any of those in attendance, Darcy performed the proper introductions. “Mrs. Darcy will be purchasing a significant number of gowns for her Season in Town. I trust that the utmost attention and courtesy will be extended to her by your staff. Whatever my wife wants, Mrs. Duval, I am determined she shall have. No expense shall be spared.”

  Mrs. Duval understood him perfectly. “I assure you, Mr. Darcy, I have every intention of seeing to Mrs. Darcy personally.” Then, to Elizabeth, she said, “Indeed, ma’am, you shall want for nothing while you are a guest in my shoppe. This way, if you please.”

  Darcy nodded curtly as Mrs. Duval shot several disapproving looks in the direction of her eavesdropping assistants. He felt no small degree of satisfaction as he watched the meddling women avert their eyes and lower their heads, properly chagrined. With the barest hint of a smile, he escorted his wife toward a private salon, where she would soon be shown nothing but the most fashionable styles and the most elegant fabrics and adornments. Darcy took great pleasure in observing the startled faces of the modiste and her assistants as they realized the master of Pemberley, against all previously established expectations regarding husbandly duty, meant to attend his wife on her shopping excursion, and with no intention of going away.

  After four tedious hours sitting in idle repose, reading the paper, drinking tea, and eating biscuits while Elizabeth selected patterns and silk, Darcy had grown weary. If left to her own devices, he had no doubt Elizabeth would have ordered only the barest number of gowns allowable, and not the thirty or so he had insisted upon. In his opinion, thirty was a minimal number of gowns for the new mistress of Pemberley. Darcy’s own mother had needed at least twice that number for her social obligations in Town each Season, but he did not wish to push his luck. They could always return another day when Elizabeth had a more thorough grasp of her new position in society and what would be required of her as his wife.

  When they rose to leave not an hour later, Darcy was more than ready to return to the comfort and privacy of their Grosvenor Square home. Again, many eyes turned toward them, and he made a pointed show of raising Elizabeth’s hand to his lips as they made their way to the entrance to the shoppe, his gaze caressing her with a look of complete adoration, which Elizabeth returned with equal feeling. Though he had always taken great care to avoid drawing attention to himself in the past, Darcy had to admit he felt a significant amount of satisfaction in making it clear to the busybodies and gossips in attendance that afternoon that he not only valued and esteemed his bride, but that he loved her. Let them talk about that, he thought, with no small degree of vindication.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy happened to glimpse none other than Caroline Bingley as she stood with her friend Cecelia Hayward, both staring with wide eyes and raised brows at his display of devotion. In a sudden fit of irritation, he cast a cold, haughty glare in Miss Bingley’s direction as he escorted Elizabeth from the shoppe. Miss Bingley’s face, which had only moments before been envious, turned pale as she realized, with horror written on her face, that Darcy had just publicly cut her.

  * * *

  Darcy slid his arms around Elizabeth’s waist and placed a kiss upon the curve of her neck. “You are utterly intoxicating, Mrs. Darcy. I daresay I shall be the envy of every man in Haymarket Square this evening.”

  His warm breath felt delightful against her skin. “Mmm… and I the envy of every lady, sir.”

  Darcy raised his brow and, with the barest hint of a smile, said, “You flatter me, Elizabeth. No one shall even notice me with you at my side, ladies included. They will be far too busy speculating about the identity of the enchanting temptress on my arm and wondering why it is she would ever be with me in the first place.”

  She gave him an impertinent look. “Well, I would imagine that would be quite clear. After all, I am only after your money, Mr. Darcy.”

  He laughed heartily. “Yes, undoubtedly, my dear. Come, or we will be late.”

  It seemed Darcy had been correct, for no sooner had they entered the opera house in Haymarket Square than Elizabeth witnessed an endless sea of fashionably attired necks straining to better observe them. There appeared to be an infinite number of private conversations whispered behind lace fans and gloved hands, as well as an abundance of less discreet commentary, all with regard to the mystery of her identity, the attractiveness of her person, and the simple, yet elegant, style of her dress. Elizabeth steeled herself against the intense scrutiny of the London ton and held her head a little higher. She felt her husband’s free hand cover hers in a gesture of reassurance, his fingers linking with hers. She turned to look at him, flashing him a smile of gratitude, which he returned. To her very great relief, Darcy ignored all the curious glances and pointed looks they received and continued to lead her up the staircase to their private box, where they met the Gardiners, Lord and Lady Matlock, and Jane and Bingley.

  “Well, well, my dear Mrs. Darcy,” said Lord Matlock with a wink, “I believe you have succeeded in drawing the interest of quite a crowd tonight.”

  Elizabeth observed him archly as she replied, “How naïve of me, your lordship, for I have been under the impression these people were here to see a performance of The Magic Flute.”

  “No, no”—he laughed—“that is just an added attraction, my dear lady. Is it not, gentlemen?” Mr. Gardiner and Bingley concurred with warm smiles.

  Darcy observed his wife openly and with admiration. “Indeed, Uncle. Though I cannot profess myself capable of speaking for the rest of the parties in attendance, I can heartily assure you I will find it very difficult to focus my attention elsewhere this evening.” He gave Elizabeth a slow, seductive smile that made her blush becomingly.

  Bingley could not but laugh at his once-taciturn friend. “We are already well aware of that, Darcy! I declare, until I leased Netherfield and we made the fortuitous acquaintance of the Bennets, I had never known you to possess such an agreeable humor! Of course, one would be a simpleton, indeed, not to find the society of such beautiful ladies anything but completely engaging.” Here, he looked with love upon his dear Jane, who gave him a smile full of appreciation and affection.

  “Here, here!” exclaimed Mr. Gardiner and Lord Matlock, both with indulgent smiles upon their faces.

  True to his word, Darcy did almost nothing but stare at his wife for most of the evening. Indeed, Elizabeth was stunning in her elegant dove-gray silk, which seemed to shimmer with every movement of her body. He admired the way Sonia had arranged her hair, with what appeared to be one long, delicate, curling branch of sterling silver leaves entwined throughout her gorgeous mass of curls. The contrast between the color of her hair and the highlights of the silver was eye-catching. If his
life had depended upon it, Darcy could not have imagined tearing himself away from the picture of enticing elegance before him.

  At one point in the performance, Elizabeth turned her gaze upon him, and their eyes held for several long moments. She reached for his hand, and as the music soared, Darcy found himself leaning in, his gaze now upon her lips, and before either of them knew what they were about, Darcy surrendered every claim to rational thought and kissed her. He heard a loud gasp of shock, though whether it had come from Elizabeth or from some other source, he could not determine, for Elizabeth had immediately turned away, and as he glanced around him in the dim interior of the opera house, he noticed many curious pairs of eyes turned upon him in wonder, amusement, and censure.

  “Whoever is that beautiful creature who has so enchanted your nephew, Catherine, that he would abandon all sense of propriety in full company?” asked the all-powerful Lady Malcolm, who happened to be sharing a box with several other notable dowagers across the way.

  Lady Catherine de Bourgh sniffed. “She is of no consequence.”

  Lady Malcolm raised her brow. “Really?” she inquired dryly. “Well, I never would have guessed, as she seems to be most comfortably installed with your brother and sister-in-law, not to mention that Darcy has not taken his eyes from her all night. Humph. Nobody of consequence, indeed.”

  “Yes,” chimed the agreeable Lady Sowersby, “I have noticed that myself. Come, Catherine! Indulge us and tell us her name.”

  Lady Catherine huffed and, in her most disagreeable tone of voice, said, “She was known as Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire.”

  Lady Sowersby and Lady Malcolm exchanged knowing looks and smiled to themselves.

  “So are we to understand that the highly coveted and ever-elusive master of Pemberley has found someone who has enticed him to the altar at last?” asked Lady Sowersby, barely able to conceal her enthusiasm.

  Lady Catherine snorted. “You do not know the half of it, Eleanor!”

  Lady Malcolm appraised her shrewdly. “If my eyes have not deceived me, Catherine, your nephew has fallen in love with this pretty, young woman, leaving you with no prospective bridegroom for Anne and a bitter taste in your mouth.”

  “Fallen in love with her!” she spat. “What has love to do with anything? She has drawn him in and has ruined any chance Anne has of finding happiness. Just look what she has done to him! She is penniless and unconnected, yet he can hardly attend to anything but her!” She gestured furiously at Darcy, who was, at that very moment, speaking in Elizabeth’s ear, an intimate smile playing across his lips. His wife turned to him with a smile that echoed his and laughed at whatever he had said; then she rested her hand upon his upper arm and laid her head against his shoulder for a few moments. Darcy pressed a kiss to her temple and closed his eyes. In a gesture of obvious devotion, Elizabeth lifted his hand to her lips, bestowing a kiss upon his knuckles. Lady Sowersby sighed at their touching, yet highly improper display.

  “Yes,” countered Lady Malcolm, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “God forbid the poor man ever finds himself happy in life.” She turned toward Lady Catherine. “I daresay your favorite nephew is far better off as he is now, Catherine—married to an agreeable young woman who obviously cares a great deal for his society, rather than being constantly pursued by the countless others who care only for his prominent position in it.”

  “And a love match at that,” sighed Lady Sowersby. “Just like that of his dear parents. It is precisely like a fairy tale, is it not?”

  Lady Catherine only scowled, choosing not to respond, and they soon turned their attention back to the performance on stage.

  Chapter 23

  Forgive me, Bingley. I realize I should not have allowed my temper to get the better of me, but considering the circumstances, I am afraid it could not be helped. I had it on good authority your sister had been responsible for regaling her friends with her distorted prejudices regarding Elizabeth’s situation and the nature of my attentions to her during the course of our courtship. She was hardly discreet, as several of Mrs. Duval’s assistants were speaking most improperly of the hateful gossip Caroline had imparted to Cecelia Hayward in their presence.”

  Darcy rose from the mahogany desk in his study to stand before the window, clearly agitated. “To this day, Elizabeth has not spoken of it to me, but Georgiana immediately informed me she had witnessed firsthand the very great pain and mortification Elizabeth experienced that day in Bond Street. Your sister’s bitterness led the staff to treat Elizabeth with rudeness and contempt. In light of that fact and the unpleasant scene that unfolded at Hurst’s home shortly before my wedding day, I can no longer pretend your sister’s behavior toward my wife is anything other than calculating and spiteful. I will not stand idly by and allow my wife to be harassed and humiliated, Bingley.”

  Bingley ran his hands over his face and sighed. “No, of course not, Darcy, nor will I allow it. Do not forget that Elizabeth and I shall soon become brother and sister.” Bingley walked several paces. “Damn! I had a strong suspicion Caroline had purposely withheld some sort of pertinent information regarding her encounter with you in Bond Street the other day. Now I have a much better understanding as to why. Thank you for enlightening me.”

  Darcy walked to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy. He handed one to Bingley, which his friend gratefully accepted, then resumed his original station behind his desk. “Bingley, as a testament to the strength of our friendship—and assuming it is also what you wish—I would, of course, be willing to acknowledge your sister in society. However, unless she is able to treat Elizabeth with the respect and civility that is her due as my wife, I regret to say she will no longer be welcome in my home. In any of my homes,” he added pointedly.

  To Darcy’s surprise, his friend laughed. “Do you mean to tell me we might actually manage to pass a fortnight at Pemberley in relative peace, then? Without fear of Caroline’s constant raptures on the evenness of your writing or the length of your correspondence?”

  Darcy joined him, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Or the many accomplishments of a truly refined lady or the extensive size of my library or the superiority of Madame Harnois’s blancmange as opposed to that of the Hursts’ equally capable French cook? Yes, I see your point, Bingley.”

  Both men took long, satisfying drinks from their glasses, each clearly occupied by his own thoughts. Hmm, Darcy mused, I daresay if Caroline Bingley refuses to treat Elizabeth with civility, then this may very well be the first year I will not be required to take the precaution of locking the door to the master’s chambers while I am within—or without, for that matter. Of course, with a wife as lovely and tempting as Elizabeth, perhaps I shall continue to do so in any case.

  Bingley gave him a sly grin. “I was just thinking, Darcy, that perhaps you should not be too hasty in your reconciliation with Caroline. You know, this could be just the thing she needs to humble her once and for all. I would be very interested to see how my high-and-mighty sister would react to being reminded that your wife is the granddaughter of a gentleman, something Caroline, with her dowry of twenty thousand pounds, cannot claim herself. Our grandfather, you will recall, was in trade.”

  Darcy returned his self-satisfied smile. “You know, Bingley, being well acquainted with your sister and her inability to hold her tongue and her temper when in company, I daresay the possibility of seeing her humbled in society may yet be realized.” Eying his friend’s empty glass, Darcy asked, “Would you care for another, Bingley?”

  Bingley nodded and offered his glass to his host. “I don’t mind if I do, Darcy! I don’t mind if I do!”

  * * *

  Elizabeth was walking in Hyde Park on a particularly mild winter morning with Jane and her Aunt Gardiner when she felt a wave of light-headedness overtake her. She stumbled, managing to catch Jane’s arm, but her vision was soon obscured by encroaching darkness, and she collapsed, unconscious, upon the ground. She awoke moments later to the concerned face
of her aunt hovering over her as she lay with her head cradled upon Jane’s lap.

  “Oh, Lizzy! Thank goodness you have come back to us!” It was Jane’s worried voice she heard first, and in an effort to reassure her, Elizabeth reached for her hand and held it, returning the slight pressure Jane applied. She attempted to rise, but her aunt urged her to lie still.

  “Lizzy, my dear, how are you feeling? Can you remember what happened?” asked her aunt, whose composure was remarkably collected.

  “I hardly know. I remember feeling warm and light-headed, and then everything began to grow dark, but I can recall nothing beyond that.”

  Mrs. Gardiner laid the back of her hand upon Elizabeth’s forehead and then her cheek. “You fainted, Elizabeth. Tell me, have you been feeling unwell lately?”

  “No, not at all, except I have felt a little light-headed on other occasions, but only when I happen to rise quickly from my chair or from my bed in the morning.”

  Her aunt gave her an appraising look. “Were you ill this morning, or any other mornings?”

  Elizabeth answered in the negative.

  “Have you felt unusually tired at all?”

  “Yes, now that you mention it, I have, but I suspect that is due only to my not getting enough sleep lately.”

  They spoke some more while Elizabeth rested, and after the passing of another few minutes, she was well able to rise to her feet with Jane’s assistance and to think of returning to Grosvenor Square for some light refreshment.

  Though the reality of her fainting had frightened her to some degree, she no longer felt she was in any danger of repeating the act, and, as she had felt recovered enough to walk on her own two legs to the carriage, she could hardly comprehend why her aunt wished her to exercise such caution once she had safely returned to her own home. She was standing in the drawing room, arguing the matter further, when Darcy came upon them. Upon hearing his wife proclaim herself to be perfectly fine now, his brow furrowed.