In the Wilds of Derbyshire

by Jann Rowland

  “Of course, my handsome knight. You have already come to my rescue once—I doubt there is a man in the whole of the world who could represent me as well as you.”

  Satisfaction swelled in Darcy’s breast. He reached for her hand and bent over it, but on this instance, instead of contenting himself with a bow, he pressed his lips to her dainty fingers, lingering for a moment. Then he straightened and released her hand, and turned away to her shy nod.

  “You have put on quite a show this morning, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam as he approached. “I dare say there is not a person present who did not just witness your display.”

  For once, Darcy decided that he did not care for the scrutiny of others. “Let them talk. It is nothing to me.”

  Fitzwilliam chuckled and shook his head, following Darcy to where the other men were gathering.

  There were many activities for them that day. Elizabeth indulged in a game of croquet with the other ladies, pairing at one point with Mr. Darcy in a game where they alternated shots. There were other games, interspersed with walks in the park, sometimes in the company of friends, and once in Mr. Darcy’s company.

  Through it all, Elizabeth could not help but wonder if she was caught up in a dream. New friends, a new situation, Mr. Darcy’s attentions, an event as fine and diverting as any she had ever attended—these had all changed her outlook on life as completely as if she had become another person. Though she had come to Derbyshire in a poor frame of mind, worried for the future, depressed at the rejection of her elder sister, now she could not be happier. She did not know what the future held for her, but she knew that it had been a good decision to come to Derbyshire, and she thanked her father and her uncle for their encouragement.

  Later in the afternoon, the gentlemen turned their attention to an impromptu game of cricket, and they all doffed their coats in favor of the greater freedom of movement granted by their shirts and waistcoats. Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth noticed, transferred her handkerchief from his jacket pocket to his waistcoat. He looked up at her when he did so, smiling at her and nodding while patting the pocket in which the handkerchief lay. Elizabeth waved, feeling more than a little self-conscious at his obvious regard.

  “It seems to me that our Elizabeth has made a rather prestigious conquest.”

  Feeling the heat on her cheeks, Elizabeth turned to Miss Clara Burbage, who had made the comment, noting her sly glances with Miss Fiona MacDonald, who sat nearby.

  “I do not know of what you speak,” said Elizabeth. She turned back and watched as the gentlemen began to play, noting the competitive fire which fueled their efforts.

  “There is no need to be coy,” replied Clara. “We have all seen the attentions Mr. Darcy is paying to you, not to mention the fact that he carries your favor.”

  “The earl suggested it,” said Elizabeth. “Once he did, Mr. Darcy had little choice.”

  “He did not look reluctant to me,” said Fiona.

  “It is said that fortune favors the bold,” added Clara, “and I cannot but help but think that luck has been very much on your side of late. Mr. Darcy is handsome and gentlemanly and every woman in the neighborhood between the ages of sixteen and six-and-fifty has been pining for his attentions since he inherited Pemberley.”

  “And Pemberley itself does no harm to the man’s appeal,” said Fiona. She sighed. “If only he would pay such exquisite attentions to me. I should be very happy, indeed.”

  “I rather think that possibility has been extinguished by our excellent Miss Bennet,” said Clara. “I doubt the man will ever look at another woman again.”

  Like clucking chickens, the two ladies continued to tease, but though she made a response a time or two, Elizabeth did not hear more than one word in three. Elizabeth’s mind was much more agreeably engaged—Mr. Darcy was playing cricket with the rest of the men, and she could not but notice how athletic and tall he was, how when he struck the ball it sailed over the heads of the other players, and how his countenance shone with enjoyment and vitality. Indeed, she was as agreeably engaged as she had ever been. Though Elizabeth would not think of it for several days, she never did retrieve her handkerchief.

  When the day’s entertainments had run their course and the parties prepared to leave, Fitzwilliam took it upon himself to stay close to Lady Emily, wary of the woman. She had not missed the display Darcy and Miss Bennet had put on before the neighborhood—no one could be less aware of it, Fitzwilliam thought. And though her countenance remained congenial and she interacted with her guests with her mask of good humor firmly in place, Fitzwilliam had not missed the gradual tightening of her lips. She had said little to Darcy or to Miss Bennet, choosing instead to immerse herself in her duties as hostess. But when they were together, her eyes followed the couple wherever they went, and Miss Bennet, whenever they were apart, considering, calculating, scheming.

  “Is that truly your cousin, Fitzwilliam?” asked Mr. Dunstan, a man from a nearby estate. “I hardly recognize him. He has never so much as batted an eyelash at a woman before, and now, here he is, making love to her before the entire party.”

  Fitzwilliam eyed Dunstan with more than a little distaste. He was not a bad man, but both Darcy and Fitzwilliam had little to do with him, as his behavior resembled that of George Wickham far too closely.

  “I hardly think he is being so open,” replied Fitzwilliam.

  “For a man as closed as Darcy, he is being positively demonstrative. Do not attempt to tell me you do not see it.”

  Dunstan turned his attention toward Miss Bennet, his gaze considering. “She is pretty, and I am sure that dress hides many delights, but I cannot see what he sees in her. She has very little, from what I understand, and as such, I doubt her connections are anything to boast of either. Or perhaps he means to make her his mistress.”

  “Do attempt to be more circumspect, Dunstan,” said Fitzwilliam. “You are at the residence of an earl, and I doubt he would appreciate one of his daughter’s guests being spoken of in such a manner.”

  “The earl is away from the estate.”

  “No, but his daughter is here, and she would not appreciate it either.”

  Dunstan shrugged. “It matters not. Whatever charms Miss Bennet may have are lost on me. I much prefer Lady Emily. Let Darcy have his country miss; it is obvious that Lady Emily favors him as well, but if he chooses to eschew the riches of the Teasdales and fathering the future earl, why it clears the field for me.”

  With a tip of his hat, Dunstan stepped away toward his own carriage. Fitzwilliam snorted to himself—he doubted very much that Lady Emily would give the time of day to a foppish rake such as Dunstan. Of greater concern was what to do about Lady Emily. She had not done anything that day, preferring to observe and scheme, but Fitzwilliam did not think that would last for long. Sooner or later she would begin her campaign to garner Darcy’s attention, and though there was little chance Darcy would respond, still it would interrupt his courting with Miss Bennet. Knowing his cousin was in a fair way in love with the woman, Fitzwilliam was determined to intercede.

  Chapter XIV

  As the days passed, the date of the dinner at Kingsdown approached, and the Darcy family prepared to join their friends for dinner. Darcy was the only one of the three who had ever been there—Georgiana typically received her friends at Pemberley, though she had made mention of visiting Kingsdown, a significant step for her, in Darcy’s opinion. Thus, it fell to him to make some explanation of the Drummonds’ situation.

  “The Drummonds are not wealthy,” explained he. “At one time, the estate brought in a respectable amount, but it has dwindled to almost nothing due to mismanagement and the dissolute habits of more than one of Mr. Drummond’s ancestors. Our south fields, in fact, used to be part of Kingsdown.”

  “Truly?” asked Fitzwilliam, interested in the tale.

  “Yes, my father purchased them from Drummond’s father not long after he became master of Pemberley. It is a pleasant house, but as
it was built for a larger estate, you will find that it is more spacious than an estate the size of Kingsdown can normally support.”

  “But we shall not see much of the house,” replied Georgiana, apparently a little nervous at the thought of visiting people she did not already know.

  “That is true. They are good people, even though they are not truly of our circle. Drummond is friendly and obliging, his eldest son, whom I do not know well, is quiet, but seems intelligent, and Mrs. Drummond, though she often gives the appearance of coldness, is polite.”

  “I do not care about their status,” declared Georgiana. “I am quite happy to have made their acquaintance anyway.”

  “I did not think you would have concerned yourself with such matters,” replied Darcy. “Your friendship with Miss Drummond grows ever closer, unless I am very much mistaken.”

  “I do like her very well, Brother. She is close to my age and shares many like interests. If it meets your approval, I would like to invite her to attend the next time my music master comes. I believe she would play wonderfully, if she was only given a little instruction.”

  “Of course, you may,” replied Darcy.

  The carriage in which they sat wended its way toward the Drummond estate, and Darcy owned to himself that he was impatient to arrive. The carriage wheels rumbled along the road, the sound echoing off the surrounding hills, their pace seeming the same as it ever was, but it seemed as if they were crawling, and the anticipation of being in her company again was nigh unbearable. Darcy heard a snort from his cousin, most likely because he had recognized Darcy’s impatience, but for once Fitzwilliam did not speak.

  When at length the carriage finally entered the drive at Kingsdown, Darcy suppressed a sigh of relief. The family was gathered on the front stoop to greet them, and Georgiana exclaimed delight, charmed at the children’s manners as they stood gravely, waiting for the arrival of their guests. The carriage pulled to a stop, and Darcy and Fitzwilliam alighted, Darcy turning to assist his sister, before they approached the waiting family.

  “Darcy,” said Drummond, extending his hand, which Darcy took with pleasure. “Thank you for joining us tonight.”

  “The pleasure is all ours, Drummond.”

  The Darcys were introduced to the Drummond children, and Fitzwilliam and Georgiana to Mrs. Drummond and the eldest son, Edward, who was yet unknown to them. Then their hosts led them into the house, and the younger children were sent off to the nursery for their own dinners. The youngest girl, Leah, left only with great reluctance, Darcy noticed, though she was eventually coaxed from the room.

  After the children’s departure, the company settled into conversation, and though Darcy might have wished it were otherwise, the lines were drawn at the sexes, for Georgiana sat with Miss Bennet and Miss Drummond, Mrs. Drummond sitting nearby and listening, if not speaking much. Darcy found himself in company with Drummond, his son, and Fitzwilliam.

  In truth, Darcy was hardly able to remember what was said the first moments of the conversation, for his attention was caught by Miss Bennet. She sat with the other ladies, speaking in an animated voice, and every now and then she would gesture to make some point or another. The other ladies, including his dear sister, contributed to the conversation admirably, but in that moment Darcy could not see anything other than Miss Bennet in her blue floral print muslin dress. He did not think he had ever seen such a lovely sight as she presented that evening.

  “You are fond of fishing, Mr. Drummond?” asked Fitzwilliam, catching Darcy’s attention.

  It was soon clear that Fitzwilliam’s question was directed at the younger Mr. Drummond, for it was he who responded. “I do, though I do not often have the opportunity. There is always so much to be done.”

  “A man of Darcy’s own heart,” said Fitzwilliam with a laugh. “He spends a large amount of time managing Pemberley.”

  “Some of us actually care for our estates, Fitzwilliam. Perhaps you should follow our example and devote some time to Thorndell.”

  Instead of being offended, Fitzwilliam only laughed, as Darcy knew he would. “Thorndell is quite well, indeed, as I have already told you. The society in your neighborhood is much more interesting than that in mine.”

  “Where is your estate, Colonel Fitzwilliam?” asked the elder Drummond.

  “Southwest of here,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I can comfortably travel there in half a day, though my horse might not appreciate such a pace.”

  “You are fortunate, then. There are many younger sons who do not inherit anything, even when their fathers are earls.”

  “Well do I know it,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Thorndell is an inheritance through my mother’s family and is not part of my father’s earldom.”

  “My younger sons will almost certainly be relegated to the army or the clergy,” replied Drummond. “I am hoping they both choose the safer option of the clergy. They will both have the power of some choice, as I have invested some money on their behalf with my brother Gardiner.”

  “That is good forethought,” replied Fitzwilliam. “My mother wished for me to go into the clergy, but it is far too sedate a lifestyle for me. I own that I was more interested in excitement and adventure as a young man.”

  “And now you have entered a sedate lifestyle akin to the one you eschewed before,” inserted Darcy. “Being a gentleman is not exactly adventurous.”

  “I dare say it is not,” agreed Fitzwilliam, amused. “But the exhilaration of being shot at quickly fades to ennui, often in direct proportion to the enemy’s improving aim.”

  They all laughed at Fitzwilliam’s jest. “You must have some interesting stories to tell,” observed the younger Mr. Drummond.

  “I can tell a yarn as well as the next man. But most of my experiences in the army are not grand or adventurous. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

  Fitzwilliam fell silent, and Darcy could see the introspection of remembrance fall over him as it had many times in the past. Fitzwilliam often told humorous stories, and embellishment was in his blood, but he could rarely be induced to speak of his more serious experiences. Darcy could not understand what he had endured, never having lived through it himself, but he could empathize with the desire to leave painful experiences in the past.

  “I would not wish for my brothers to experience such horrors,” said Edward Drummond.

  “That is why I hope they make different choices,” replied his father, “though I understand why you made yours.”

  “It is not all gloom and desperation,” said Fitzwilliam. “I have made many excellent friends, with whom I shall ever be close, and at times the antics of the higher ranks can be positively amusing.”

  With that Fitzwilliam began to regale then with some of his more amusing tales, and soon they were all laughing at the silliness of the last general under whom he had served. Darcy, who had heard many of these tales before, only shook his head, wondering how much of what he said was grounded in fact.

  “A certain measure of eccentricity is a hallmark of a brilliant mind,” said Fitzwilliam when Edward had expressed disbelief. Then he laughed. “Of course, I do not know that I would call General Romsley a brilliant man—eccentric, yes. There are so many men who come from highborn backgrounds and purchase their way into an elevated rank.”

  Edward appeared confused. “You are the son of an earl, are you not?”

  “Aye, I am,” replied Fitzwilliam with a grin. “But I worked my way up to colonel from lieutenant. My father taught both my brother and me that though we were sons of an earl, very little in life could be handed to us without our having to work to gain it. My brother has been involved in the management of the earldom’s estates for many years, and I purchased a lieutenancy instead of entering the army at a higher level, like I see so many others doing.”

  “That is to your credit, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Drummond.

  Fitzwilliam only waved him off. “I believe a man has no business leading men into battle u
nless he has some experience in their shoes. I believe the purchase of high commissions should be abolished in favor of a system based solely on merit. Sadly, I do not believe anything will change any time soon.”

  “I do not doubt you are correct,” said Darcy.

  The gentlemen spoke together for some time, and though his cousin directed expressive looks at him from time to time, Darcy thought he acquitted himself quite well. Miss Bennet did not distract him too much, though her infectious laughter, the sound of her voice raised in her usual wit, and the sheer force of her presence did capture his attention quite often. Darcy also came to know young Edward Drummond better, and the young man was as he suspected—reticent, like Darcy himself, but intelligent. He sensed that Mr. Drummond wished Edward to become better acquainted with both Fitzwilliam and himself, perhaps to become something of a mentor to him. Darcy was happy to oblige.

  They went in to dinner soon after, and Darcy was impressed with the fare they were able to provide. He did not think the Drummonds possessed the resources to employ many servants, but clearly whoever had done the cooking was not unfamiliar with the kitchen. The roast pheasants Drummond had likely shot, himself, were cooked to a turn, and the assorted dishes which accompanied it would not have been out of place on Pemberley’s own table.

  There was one incident during dinner which surprised Darcy. As it happened, Darcy had managed to escort Miss Bennet into dinner and had thus been able to take his seat beside her. As Fitzwilliam had escorted Mrs. Drummond and was sitting to her right, Darcy was seated to her left with Miss Bennet beside him, and though he had done his best not to ignore Mrs. Drummond, he did not think the woman missed the fact that his attention was on Miss Bennet much more than anyone else in the room.

  Their subjects were wide ranging and always interesting, and as usual, when in her presence, Darcy was astounded by Miss Bennet’s intelligence, and her grasp of any subject, which was often more profound than that of many men with whom Darcy was acquainted. All this Mrs. Drummond observed with little visible emotion—she ate her dinner, rarely partaking in the conversation, watching them all like a governess over her charges. When she did finally speak, it was with some asperity and in a tone which was faintly censuring, though after Darcy could not quite remember exactly what Miss Bennet had said to provoke it.