Darcy's Match

by Kate Bedlow

  That Georgiana Darcy had accepted Lord Somersea’s offer, and that Drake was to perform the ceremony.

  Amy knew all these facts, and he sensed she intuited what he had not written. That his heart was broken, and the world would never be lovely again.

  “My uncle is rich, I am sure of it. He likely hoards all his income,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that! What does Mr. Clackston ever spend his money on? Not Aunt Charity, that is certain. I doubt she has had a new dress in three years.”

  It had never occurred to Drake to think of such a thing. “Now you bring it up, I think you may be right.”

  “Oh, that is awful, Drake! The world is not fair.”

  “If the world were fair, sister, the other one should ask for your hand.”

  Amy’s face darkened. “Aunt Perpetua should not have told you about him.”

  “She told me almost nothing. Is Mr. Brightwater so bad?”

  “Mr. Brightwater is a dull pond.”

  “But according to Aunt Perpetua, he has had the depth of character to ask for your hand while the other one has left you hanging.”

  “And did you not leave Miss Darcy hanging? You ain’t such a bad lot, brother dear.” Amy winked at him and crooked her hand. Her wineglass was refilled instantly. To Drake’s mind, she made rather a good heiress. He was pretty sure Aunt Perpetua was bluffing about her will.

  Amy was right. How could he criticize a man for not doing exactly what he had not done? “Do you mean that he, whoever he is, has withdrawn in favor of someone more likely to guarantee your happiness?”

  “Sadly, he is not that noble.” She covered his hand with hers. “Let me ease your mind. I promise I have no wish to marry the other one, as Aunt Perpetua calls him. He may have abused my heart, but he has not broken it.”

  “Then I shall never speak of him. Only—”

  “I cannot marry Mr. Brightwater.”

  “I understand. I will plead your case with my aunt. And I doubt she has really changed her will.”

  “I meant it when I said I don’t care. I think it’s beastly she’s left you nothing just because you’re a man.”

  “Plenty of ladies have been left nothing just because they are female. I bear no resentment on the matter. Why should I? Besides, I am quite comfortable where I am. The Lambton living provides near to five hundred pounds a year, the vicarage is lovely, and my parishioners are all very dear people.”

  “Including Miss Grenway?”

  “Don’t be mean.”

  “Has a date been set for Miss Darcy’s wedding? There is mean for you.”

  “Two weeks from today.” Thirteen days, fifteen hours, to be exact. “The couple do not wish to step on local celebrations of the nuptials of Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold, which are to take place the week following.”

  “Local celebrations?”

  “The magistrate of Lambton parish, Sir Alan Whittle, was made a baronet by wish of the queen. He has decided to give a wedding breakfast for the local gentry in honor of the newlyweds.”

  “What fun. You had better not tell Sir Alan the royal wedding is to be performed in the evening, at Carlton House.”

  “I would not rob him of his pleasure for the world.”

  “You are a good person, Drake.”

  “And you are a well-informed one. I did not realize you cared so much for London society.”

  “My aunt has raised me to care. Then she dragged me into that horrid marriage market called the Season, and if I have fallen in love with someone I should not have, it is her fault.”

  “Have you told Aunt Perpetua these things? She will not be cross, Amy. The old girl only wants your happiness. If you love the man, I can’t believe he is unworthy of you.”

  “It does not matter. It is hopeless. He cares for someone else, and I could never marry a man who did not love me more than I loved him.”

  “That is very cynical.”

  “That is what a man would say.”

  “Or any person with a healthy self-regard. In my view, it is best when partners regard each other equally.”

  “I see now! You are discovered! You did not withhold your affections from Miss Darcy to make way for some other fellow, but because you regard yourself as not her equal.”

  “I am not her equal. And I did make way for another.”

  “I don’t believe you. You never said a word to me about Lord Somersea until after you had gone cold on Miss Darcy. And you disappoint me, Drake. You are certainly the equal of Georgiana Darcy. She is the granddaughter of an earl? You are a baron’s grandson. The only difference between you is in your fortunes.”

  “As in she has one; I do not.”

  “That is beneath you. Indeed, I am ashamed of you. I never thought you counted your worth in guineas—and if that is the case, then you are right. She deserves better.”

  “And she has got it.”

  “So she has.” Amy’s left eyebrow arched so high Drake thought it might take flight.

  Drake did stay the week. Amy said nothing more of her disappointment in him, but her lecture never once left his thoughts. Despite that, and poor Aunt Perpetua’s failing health, Manchester was a respite. Here he was not subject everywhere he went to delightful tattle regarding Miss Darcy of Pemberley’s upcoming nuptials.

  On Tuesday, he left his aunt and sister a little better than he had found them, each feeling she had won some concession from the other. Aunt Perpetua had accepted that Amy did not like Mr. Brightwater, and she derived some peace knowing Amy also had no intention of marrying the rake who had toyed with her heart.

  Drake set out for Derbyshire ill at ease. For so long, he had been caught up with what he should not do: care for Miss Darcy. Amy’s criticism had made him realize it was time to turn his attention toward what he should do. Miss Darcy would become Lady Somersea, as befitted so fine a young lady, and he must open his eyes, perhaps someday his heart, to another. Even Miss Grenway might not be so bad.

  Perish the thought. He left his horse at Lambton stables and chuckled under his breath at the idea of Alice Grenway as mistress of the vicarage. Mrs. Pruitt would never allow it! He still had a smile on his face when he arrived at his mistress-free home. His housekeeper greeted him with news that chased away all mirth.

  “Did you not receive Miss Charity’s letter?” There was no music in her voice. No teasing. No stern instruction. No excitement.

  Something was very wrong.

  “No. I must have crossed paths with it.”

  “Mr. Clackston had another attack, on Monday. I am so sorry, Vicar. Your uncle did not survive.”

  At the rector’s burial the next day, Mr. Darcy was there, along with Lord Farley. As magistrate, Sir Alan came along with Falcon Whittle, Mr. Garrett, Mr. Crealy, and even Robert Townes paid his respects. Drake was touched.

  “Allow me to express my condolences, Midwinter.” Mr. Darcy approached him afterward. “Would you be so kind as to preside at St. Mary’s this coming Sunday?”

  “Of course.” Mr. Bonney would prove his worth yet again by stepping in at All Saints. “I should be glad to.”

  “And if you would, please come see me at the great house after the service. There are matters we need to discuss.”

  Drake understood. He would have to prepare his aunt for the coming changes in her life, but he would ask Mr. Darcy if they could be delayed to give her a short while to grieve her brother before losing her home also.

  On Sunday the church was full, including the Pemberley family box where Aunt Charity had kindly been invited to sit. Lord Somersea was there, seated beside Georgiana. Lord Farley had come and looked very happy beside Miss Caroline Bingley, who was presently visiting Pemberley. Hope springs eternal…

  Drake suppressed a smile and looked out on his uncle’s assembled parishioners. So many had come! Every box and pew was full, all the standing room taken. The entire Brown family were here and the Towneses, Mrs. White and Mrs. Crealy and all the kitchen maids. Had they come to pay r
espects to his uncle or to comfort Drake? Either way, he was touched.

  It struck him suddenly that Derbyshire was truly his home now, perhaps the first place he had ever really belonged, and he was flooded with gratitude. In that moment, he knew all would be well. Yes, he would love Georgiana all his days, but he would hold fast to the joy in having known her, not the pain of losing what never could have been.

  He opened his notes and quoted John:

  In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

  Drake looked up from the page. He took it as a sign that somehow his stern uncle had been a good pastor to his flock when he noted how many parishioners had tears in their eyes. Even cool-as-ice Miss Bingley appeared touched, and Lord Farley took the opportunity to offer her his handkerchief.

  “I ask your indulgence in allowing me a brief reminiscence today of our late rector,” Drake began. “I take comfort in knowing the way was prepared, as the Gospel says, for my uncle, and that he has at last found his true home.

  “As we all know, last January Mr. Clackston suffered a mild apoplexy, then revived beyond Mr. Gowan’s most optimistic hopes. By the second Sunday after Twelfth Night, he had returned to this pulpit. After coming so close to the next life as to catch a glimpse beyond the vale, Mr. Clackston returned to this side of the Great Divide with a new and surprising enthusiasm for its pleasures and hardly a thought for its hardships.

  “He became a less harsh man, a kinder man. He remembered daily to thank his sister for her kindness and all her little services for which in the past—as with too many men, I am sure—the rector assumed she knew she was appreciated. He encouraged me to visit him often and engaged me in lively discussions of doctrine, literature, and the political issues of the day.”

  You are a fine young man with a clever mind and a good heart, the rector had told Drake one day. I am proud to know you and to call you my nephew.

  “It was a golden time, those months from Epiphany to Easter, and far too brief. This past Monday, the day after Easter, Fortitude Clackston’s golden time came to an end. While placing this bowl of daffodils on this altar, he suffered another apoplexy, this one quite massive, which mercifully delivered his soul swiftly to heaven.

  “His curate, Mr. Jeremy Bonney, found him with a clutch of flowers in one hand and a peaceful expression on his face.”

  Poor Aunt Charity burst into tears then and Mrs. Darcy patted her arm while Drake descended to the altar. From beneath it, he withdrew a bowl of full of freshly cut daffodils. Replacing the wilted flowers, he quoted The Faerie Queene:

  For whatsoever from one place doth fall,

  Is with the tide unto an other brought:

  For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.

  Chapter 25

  Darcy waited for Richard in the garden outside St. Mary’s. Somehow his cousin had been separated from the rest of their party, and it was taking some time for the parishioners to emerge into the pleasant spring day. Everybody had to thank the vicar personally for his sermon.

  It was gratifying, considering what Darcy was about to do, but unsurprising. Midwinter was popular at St. Mary’s. Whenever it was known he would be standing in for his uncle, the attendance had always increased substantially, much to Clackston’s consternation.

  Richard finally appeared with Caroline. She left him to join the other ladies, who were being entertained by Lord Somersea, but not before giving him a rather joyous smile. Darcy caught his cousin’s attention and motioned him away from the crowd. Midwinter was coming to see Darcy after church, and he wanted to discuss his idea with Richard first.

  “Miss Bingley seems to have mellowed toward you of late.”

  “She was severe on me after the Twelfth cake incident, but it was worth it. After her anger quieted, she began to take pity on me.”

  Darcy could not understand what his cousin admired in Caroline Bingley. But then Richard had always been a man of action. Perhaps the chase beguiled him. If so, would the tamed doe be as exciting as the wild one?

  “She has finally accepted me, Darcy. Caroline has agreed to be my wife.”

  “Richard, I…” He shook his cousin’s hand heartily. “I wish you every happiness.”

  “But you have doubts.”

  “Not at all.” It was not Darcy’s place to judge. “Truth be told, cousin, I never thought you would secure her. I was sure you were on a fool’s errand.”

  “I can admit now I had nearly lost hope,” Richard said. “But Midwinter saved the day.”

  “Midwinter, you say!”

  “The sermon today. Caroline said it made her see she will not live forever. She wishes to be my wife whether she loses her fortune or not. I told her she could keep her damn fortune, that I want her, not her guineas.”

  “You should have got all that straight with her long ago.”

  “I was angry that she believed she could not trust me, and yet I did nothing to show her that she could. I was a fool, blinded by pride.”

  “This can happen to the best of us, so my wife has informed me.” They laughed, and Darcy continued. “Will you surprise us all, like Quartermaine, with a fait accompli, or let the date and place be known?”

  “She insists Midwinter marry us, for good luck. I shall let her name all the particulars.”

  “Wise man. Now, as to Midwinter…” Darcy told Richard of his plan for St. Mary’s and met with wholehearted approval.

  “I cannot think of a better man for it.” Richard eyed his fiancée. “And I can easily guess now where Caroline will wish to be married.”

  They joined Kett and the ladies who, surprisingly, were not discussing Caroline’s news. Miss Charity looked up at Darcy with a brave smile, but her eyes were glistening. “On the day of my dear brother’s burial, I am afraid I was too distraught to offer the mourners refreshment. I wish to rectify the omission now.”

  “That is most thoughtful, Miss Charity.” Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, preferring to take her home so she could rest. His anxiety must have been plain on his face, for she squinted at him in warning.

  Of course she would laugh and call him overprotective! Only that morning, when he suggested she need not attend church today, she had cut him a new neckcloth. The baby is not due for another four months and I am in the peak of health. He could not deny it. She was beautiful.

  “The day is fine,” he said. Elizabeth had taught him that acceptance with good humor was always the better part of valor. “Shall we walk together?” The rectory was but two minutes away on a path lined by lilacs and roses that circled around behind the church and past the churchyard. They formed a parade of sorts, with Richard and Caroline at the head, followed by Darcy and Elizabeth with Miss Charity between them, then Kett and Georgiana.

  Darcy looked back as a sun’s ray lit up Georgiana’s crown like a halo. How pretty she looked today with her golden curls neatly arranged and her genuinely loving smile. She had meant to leave for London last Monday on errands to do with wedding clothes and the other necessaries required before a woman could take a new name, but all had changed. She had stayed to condole with Miss Charity, and Lydia, who had remained in Town to oversee the project, would arrive tomorrow, bringing everything with her to complete the final round of fittings at Pemberley.

  With a pang Darcy realized the era was at an end when he could think of Georgiana as Miss Darcy of Pemberley, his little sister, his special charge, his to cherish and care for, and more precious to him than to any other man. In three days’ time, he would escort her into St. Mary’s and give her away.

  He held back until she and Kett caught up with him. “Somersea, shake a leg and escort Miss Charity and my wife, if you please. I wish to speak with my sister.”

  Kett smiled. “And quite right too.” He gathered Elizabeth and Miss Charity to him, one
on each arm, and soon had them laughing at some ridiculous story about peacocks in Hyde Park.

  After a few minutes, when the others had progressed far enough ahead to provide some privacy, Georgiana said, “Zooks, brother, you walk so slowly today. Are you quite well?” But there was a twinkle in her eye, and she squeezed his arm affectionately.

  “I am feeling nostalgic, sister. For so many years I have been father and brother and, I hope, best friend to you. I am quite upended by the idea of your belonging to another man, another house. I will miss your cheerfulness and your sweet disposition.”

  “You will not be rid of me so easily!” She laughed. “As Mrs. Bennet says, I am not dead yet. I plan to visit Pemberley often and for such long duration that you will wish me back to Somersea Hall.”

  “I will hold you to it. You will always be Pemberley’s faerie queen.”

  At the rectory, poor Miss Charity did her best to be a gracious hostess, but Darcy could see she was distracted with worry over practical matters. With her brother no longer rector of St. Mary’s, she had no right to live in the home she had known for five and twenty years. Something must be done to address this, which related to the matter Darcy wished to discuss with Richard. Midwinter’s welcome reception today had reminded him of a suggestion Elizabeth once put forward, and though she had imagined a different end at the time, that did not make the idea any less valid now.

  When the vicar arrived, Darcy took him aside. “Midwinter, there are matters to discuss regarding St. Mary’s, but I do not wish to upset Miss Charity with such things. Would you be so kind as to call on me at the great house later today when it is convenient?”

  “I should be delighted, sir. But please know I have always planned that my aunt would live with me at the vicarage when the time came. She will be very well looked after.”