Dearest Friends

by Pamela Lynne

  When he met Miss Mary Bennet a few days prior, it did not take long to realize that he was wrong, much to his relief. She was young, but she was very knowledgeable of the scriptures and seemed to have the fortitude that would not likely succumb to seduction. She had some very definitive opinions, but they would be softened by life, especially one spent in service. She was a quiet girl who was trying hard to live her faith. He liked her very much.

  He was not one to follow passionate impulses. He loved God and the church above all else but had been feeling the call to remarry for some time. He needed someone to help tend the parish, especially the women and young girls who seemed so frightened when they told them of their needs or wrongdoings. If the Fitzwilliams wanted him to marry this girl, he would, but only if he could be sure it was truly what she wanted.

  “No, Miss Bennet, unfortunately, one generation’s sins will affect the next, but that cannot be used as an excuse for continuing bad behavior. Ultimately, we are responsible for ourselves. We will be judged by our own actions, not those of our fathers.”

  They had been discussing the Old Testament practically by themselves while the rest of the room sat close by and watched. She seemed to be listening carefully, but he could not help but feel that she directed the conversation for another’s benefit.

  Mary was sitting on the sofa, flanked on either side by Georgiana and Anne, both looking as dour as their countenances would allow as if they were serving as guard dogs. The men in the room were no less tenacious. The former colonel looked at him as if he would run him through at any moment while Darcy stared intently as if he were going over every syllable he uttered, looking for a hidden meaning.

  However, the man who had started all this had removed himself from the discussion early on and was now in the back of the room leaned up against the window. Elliot noticed that while the viscount had initially been friendly, the more time they spent in each other’s company, the more withdrawn he became. His suspicions of illicit behavior on Mary’s part had been quelled, but he had one question that needed to be answered before he could make her an offer in good conscience.

  ********

  Later that day, the ladies gathered in Elizabeth’s chambers while Evelyn made the final adjustments on their gowns for the ball. They had a reprieve from Ladies Susan and Catherine, who had thankfully declared themselves too busy to participate. Lady Susan had final preparations to see to, and since she was paying for everything, Catherine believed she should accompany her. Elizabeth wondered if Matlock House would still be standing after an hour of them working together.

  “Anne, that is a lovely locket you are wearing. Is it new?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, Mama gave it to me as a sort of peace offering. Look, is has a lock of Richard’s hair tucked inside.” Anne smiled warmly as she showed off her new favorite piece of jewelry.

  “The colonel cut his hair for you?” Mary thought the idea of a man cutting his hair for his lady was very sweet, like a Samson willingly giving up his strength for love. It was a lovely idea, but not how the story went.

  Anne shook her head. “No, these strands were caught in Mama’s ring. He said I could keep them, though.” Elizabeth stifled a laugh while Mary shook her head slightly. Her friend, like most of the Fitzwilliams, was most endearingly odd. Anne saw Mary’s bewildered expression and became concerned.

  “Mary, do you know why Mama was so upset the night you arrived here?”

  “Not really. I know she did not wish you to marry Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I do not understand why exactly.”

  Anne breathed a sigh of relief. She did not regret what happened with Richard, but she did not want to lose Mary’s good opinion. She was the first true friend she had ever had, and she wanted to keep her.

  “It does not matter. She is warming to the idea, even if she is not enthusiastic.” Her voice had been light as she spoke of Richard and her mother but grew lower as she looked at her friend and asked, “What do you think of Mr. Elliot? He has called here every day since Sebastian introduced him to us. You have been speaking to him a lot.”

  All eyes in the room now rested on Mary with both curiosity and concern, and she became uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

  “You all know I am looking to marry. I believe your cousin considers Mr. Elliot a real option for me. I just hope the viscount is not pressuring him. I would not want him to have to be coerced.”

  “He would be fortunate to have you, Mary.” Georgiana joined the conversation. “But you have only known him a few days. Is there a need to rush?”

  Mary shook her head. “There is not. I go back to Longbourn soon. I would like to have some idea of the future before I go, but, no, I will not rush a decision. I am not Jane. I do like him, though. I think he would make a good husband.”

  Anne looked at Mary’s face when she spoke of Mr. Elliot. Her words conveyed regard, but her expression was neutral. She shared Richard’s concerns for Sebastian, but like him, she never had the opportunity to question her friend about her feelings. She worried for both of them.

  “It is not very romantic, the way you speak of him. Do you have any warm feelings toward him?” Georgiana asked.

  Mary looked confused. “I am unsure of what you mean, Georgiana. Not everyone will have what our friends here do, nor does everyone want that. I will be perfectly content as a wife as long as my husband treats me with respect. These warm feelings of which you speak are likely to come with time.”

  “You sound very sensible, Mary,” Anne interjected. “And like you said, there is no need to rush. Perhaps if you think about it more, you will decide that those warm feelings might be worth pursuing with the right gentleman.”

  Mary became increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation. She nervously looked at Anne, her eyes pleading with her to stop. She took a deep breath, looked at herself in the mirror, and quickly changed the subject.

  “I am not sure about this gown. I believe it is cut too low. Perhaps we should add some lace.”

  “No, Mary, it is perfect. You have never worn a dress like this before; you just need to become accustomed to it. I believe Mr. Elliot will like it. Lady Susan has extended an invitation to him, has she not?”

  Mary nodded at her sister then looked back down to the green silk of her gown. Would he like something cut so low? Perhaps he would expect me to dress more modestly. I am unsure. I wonder if the viscount is still here. He will tell me the truth.

  “Perhaps you are right, Lizzy. I will walk around a little and see how it feels.”

  ********

  Sebastian sat on the billiards table and slowly rubbed the cue between his hands while staring blankly at the floor. He had just argued with his brother, refusing to talk about the only subject Richard seemed to have on his mind: Sebastian’s pending betrothal. He would not relent, but Sebastian had learned much from being in his cousin’s company the last few weeks. He fell silent, letting Richard know that he would not talk about it no matter how much he pushed. He finally surrendered and left Sebastian alone in the billiards room with his thoughts on the regrets that increased every day.

  Before their spat, the brothers spent hours in Darcy’s study going over Matlock’s books. The situation was far worse than they had realized. He and Richard decided to confront their father the next day before the ball and ask that he allow Sebastian to take over management of the estate. Sebastian still knew little but was at least willing to curtail spending and hopefully be able to stem the hemorrhaging.

  Darcy had been far kinder than he ever would have expected. He did not lecture or scowl—much—but offered his advice and his money, the latter of which Sebastian refused. He spent much of his adult life dismissing his resolute cousin, believing him far too upright and serious, never having any fun. He had not realized that by taking his life seriously, Darcy allowed himself the opportunity to have fun the rest of his life, in the arms of a woman he adored. Seeing Darcy with Elizabeth had awakened something inside him, and somewhere on the roa
d to Scotland, he began to appreciate his cousin and wanted his respect in return.

  Mary did not search long before she found him. She stood in the doorway and tilted her head in study. He looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “What has you looking so somber this afternoon, my lord?”

  Sebastian looked up and smiled broadly. She loved that smile. She may not have been overt in her admiration as Jane had been, but she definitely noticed how handsome he was, especially when he wore that smile. If she were a different kind of girl, she would have sighed.

  “Mary, you look lovely.” He stood and looked her over, his eyes landing on her point of concern. “I had no idea you had those.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I am a woman. I have never worn a corset this tight...” She went on for a good ten seconds before she remembered to be offended.

  “Viscount Hedley, really,” she admonished.

  He laughed as he looked her over once more. “You do look lovely. Is this your gown for the ball?”

  “Yes. I wanted your opinion on it. Given your reaction just now, I believe I will add some lace. I would not want to be immodest.”

  He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. He thought about what would happen the next night and the promises that would be made.

  “How many times in your life will you have the opportunity to wear such a gown and dance the opening set at what will surely be the most talked about event of the season? Do not change a thing, Mary. As you just said, you are a woman. I, for one, am enjoying seeing you dress like one.”

  Her only reply was a blush as he reached out for her hand and pulled her to sit beside him. They were alone together, which was not a novel occurrence. They had been alone many times in Scotland, but this was different. She sat very close to him, and he had not released her hand. If she were a different kind of girl, she would feel herself in danger.

  “You are flushed, Mary. Are you well?”

  She nodded. “I am well, just . . . warm.”

  He took a deep breath and gently traced her fingers with his own as he spoke.

  “Mary, at the ball, you will likely hear some things.” He paused briefly. “Some things about me, about my behavior and actions in the past.” He sighed. “I told you before that I have not been a good man, but I would not wish you to think ill of me.”

  “Will it be awful?”

  He nodded.

  “Regarding what, exactly?”

  “Women, mostly.” He kept his eyes lowered and focused on their joined hands, not wanting to see the disapprobation that was sure to be in her eyes.

  “Oh.” She took some time to calm her senses before replying. “I told you before that I do not know that man. If people say such things, they will be speaking to me of a stranger. I have no desire to listen to gossip about someone I do not even know.”

  He looked at her then and smiled softly. There was certainly disapproval in her gaze; that could not be helped, but there were other things there that overpowered it. Sebastian stood and walked to the door, closed and locked it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am going to kiss you.”

  “I beg your pardon?” There was the disapprobation.

  “You heard me, Mary. In our short acquaintance, you have become my dearest friend. I value you even higher than Darcy’s brandy, and I will not allow your first kiss to come from a stuffy parson who likely will take little pleasure in the act. I have no doubt that Mr. Elliot will offer for you soon. The rest of your life will be spent wearing modest dresses, living in a modest home, and tending to the modest advances of a very pious man.”

  She had stood up straight but was still pressed against the table. He placed his hands on either side of her and leaned in.

  “At least once in your life, you should be kissed properly.”

  “It feels bloody improper if you ask me,” Mary huffed with indignation.

  He smiled rakishly. “All the better, Mary. Now stop talking, and put your arms around me.”

  She hesitated, so he took her hands and placed them on his neck then wrapped his own around her waist. His eyes had been showing their usual playfulness but now were full of tenderness as he gazed into hers. She relaxed in his embrace and gave in to temptation, running her fingers through the hair that rested on his collar, wishing she had claim to a few strands to carry with her always.

  He leaned down slowly and pressed his lips against hers. She was stiff and awkward beneath him, but after a moment, she softened and unconsciously leaned against him. It was the sweetest moment of his life, one that only the birth of his children would compare. His heart broke that he could not give her the life she wanted. Even if he had been a saint, she did not want the life of a viscountess, no matter how much she loved him, and he knew she did.

  He tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, nudging her lips with his own, encouraging them to open to his gentle attentions. Words they could never say out loud were swimming through her head, tearing at her heart even as it was opening fully to him. They could not have forever, but they could have now, so she stilled her mind and focused on the feel of his arms around her and on all the love she could give him in this one moment.

  His hands moved up and down her back as his mouth continued to move over hers. Familiar stirrings surged through him, and he allowed his hands to roam over her hips and back up her waist to her shoulders. He pulled back before the rake could reemerge and take her there on the billiards table. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart as she tried to calm her own.

  “Do most men kiss like that, Viscount?”

  He tightened his grip around her shoulders and sighed. “I know not, Mary. I have not kissed most men.”

  They both laughed, slowly released each other, and reluctantly returned to reality. He took her hands and kissed each one then walked to the door.

  “You should go before someone comes looking for you.”

  She nodded and walked toward him. He unlocked the door and rested his hand on the knob. He took one last opportunity to touch her, bringing his hand to her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. He kissed her forehead then opened the door, looking to see if anyone was around before ushering her out. After one last longing look, she turned and walked away, barely containing her tears as she ran up the stairs.

  ********

  Elizabeth looked in the mirror at the beautiful dress Evelyn created for her. The silk felt exquisite beneath her hands as she smoothed the skirt. The cut was perfect, accentuating every part of her that Darcy loved, and she was sure no one else in the room that night would be wearing something so lovely.

  Still, it was not right. Lady Susan insisted on the color, a shimmering ivory with a sash of a slightly darker shade below the bodice. It was what every lady of the ton would wear, and she should blend in with them. That was what was not sitting well with her. Every insipid, obnoxious, calculating fortune hunter of the ton would be wearing this color, and she was expected to blend in. She lifted her chin slightly and called to her maid.

  “I have decided to wear something different. Please help me out of this.”

  They moved quickly and when Elizabeth once again stood before the mirror she smiled at her reflection. “Much better,” she declared before leaving to join her husband and the rest of their party.

  Darcy stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting impatiently for his wife. Anne and Mary had arrived some time ago, and Lady Catherine had just made her grand entrance. They had plenty of time to get to Matlock House, but he was anxious to be done with it all. He never enjoyed being the center of attention, and even though they were now sharing the evening with Anne and Richard, he knew all eyes would be on him and Elizabeth.

  His foot nervously tapped the floor, and Lady Catherine was on the verge of admonishing him when he suddenly stopped. His eyes fixed on the vision descending the stairs. His heartbeat accelerated, his nostrils flare
d, and if anyone had been standing close enough, they would have heard a low, primal growl emanating from the back of his throat. He stepped forward and met her on the bottom step, taking her hand and kissing it before looking into her eyes with a devilish smile.

  “Mrs. Darcy.” His deep voice washed over her, causing her skin to shiver. She deliberately took in his appearance and met his smile with one of her own as she gave him a knowing look.

  “Mrs. Darcy.” A different voice interrupted their appreciations. “I see you have chosen a different gown than the one Susan and I suggested.”

  “I did, Aunt Catherine. What do you think?”

  Catherine looked over the dress then to her nephew, who had not stopped perusing his wife’s frame then back to Elizabeth.

  “I think that at the next ball, every lady of the ton will be wearing pink.”

  Elizabeth smiled and nodded to her aunt then took her husband’s arm. She looked up at him, but he appeared to be a thousand miles away as he was thinking of all the things that could happen while that lovely pink dress was crumpled on the floor.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  * * *

  Richard stood in the doorway of the sitting room and watched his brother. Sebastian sat in a chair, resting his elbows on his knees. On the floor between his feet sat a nearly full decanter of brandy. He stared at it, occasionally nudging it with the sides of his shoes. He was lost in thought, and Richard could see he was greatly troubled. He very carefully entered the room and sat down opposite his brother. He did not say anything, and at length, Sebastian’s face rose to meet Richard’s concerned look.