by P. O. Dixon
Darcy pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Where is Avery? The two friends had plans to attend an art exhibition that afternoon, and he was to meet Avery at the Montlake townhouse. Upon his arrival, the butler informed Darcy that the young lord was temporarily detained elsewhere and that he would be most obliged if Darcy would wait for him, for he would be along shortly.
He was not unaware that Lady Elizabeth was staring at him. Having garnered more than his fair share of stares from young ladies, he was given to believe that was a practice they enjoyed. Whereas this was normally the worst means of garnering his approbation, nothing could be further from the truth when it came to Lady Elizabeth. He recalled thinking how she was much too young to give any serious consideration when they first met at Pemberley. Now look at her.
Darcy supposed some conversation ought to be had; the room was too quiet, and they had been sitting in that same attitude for a while. On the other hand, she had joined him. Although their prior time in company had largely extended to those times when Darcy visited her brother, he knew her well enough to know that if she desired conversation, she would not hesitate to embark upon it. Turning the page, he suppressed a chuckle. The first time they talked - really talked - came to mind. It had been the evening of her coming out ball.
“Come now, Mr. Darcy, surely you must dance. Or do you mean to frustrate the hopes of every young lady in attendance?”
“In point of fact, Lady Elizabeth, I had but one purpose in coming here this evening.”
“And what may I ask was that?”
“My purpose in coming here was to dance with you, but I understand that your dance card is full.”
She had arched her brow. “And you know this because—”
“—Your brother informed me as much.”
“Oh—what a shame that is, Mr. Darcy. Pray next time you are in wish of dancing with me, you will ask me in advance of the party. As intimate as you are with my brother, I am sure I would make every attempt to save the best dance for you in anticipation of your request.”
“Are you laughing at me, Lady Elizabeth?” Darcy recalled asking.
“Is the gentleman not to be laughed at?” Lady Elizabeth had teasingly responded.
Closing her book with a light thump, Elizabeth interrupted Darcy’s musings. He looked up from the page he had been staring at for quite some time, directly into the most amazing dark eyes.
Refusing to look away, he said, “Lady Elizabeth—”
“Mr. Darcy.”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Indeed, sir. I am wondering how long you mean to pretend that I am not in the room.”
“Was I doing that?”
“You know you were. You have not spoken a single word to me since greeting me upon my arrival. Either I am so boring or your book is so absorbing. Given the conscientious manner in which you have been adhering to your book, I pray it is the latter.”
Darcy moistened his lips. “My book certainly is interesting, but that’s not to say I find you boring—on the contrary.”
“So, I am not boring. What a relief, for I should hate to think you find me dull and dreary.”
“I believe you are teasing me again.”
“No—I know better than to do that. I always endeavor to keep your good opinion—that is assuming I ever possessed it.”
“Trust me, young lady, you have my good opinion.” Closing his book, he leaned forward. “And now that you have my undivided attention, what do you plan to do about it.”
Flustered more than she would have liked by her companion, Elizabeth began to feel the danger of her coquettish banter with her brother’s friend. A man of sense and education, Mr. Darcy was quite unlike any of the other gentlemen of her acquaintance. If I am not careful, I shall grow afraid of him. That would never do.
Now, he was staring at her—daring her. How she wished she could find her voice in the wake of his piercing, nay, intoxicating gaze. There were any number of things she might say next. Nothing immediately sprang to mind, and she began to feel her color rising.
Her companion, Miss Hannah Greene, rescued Elizabeth from a rather intense moment when she entered the room.
“Miss Greene!”
She came to the part of the room where Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth sat. After affording the gentleman a polite curtsey, she turned to Elizabeth. “Pardon me, my lady. His Grace wishes to see you in his study.”
“Thank you. I shall attend my grandfather directly,” said Elizabeth, thus sending her companion along her way. Closing her book, Elizabeth then stood and curtsied. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Darcy.”
He stood and took her free hand in his. His touch was soft and gentle. Raising her hand to his lips, he bestowed a light kiss. Elizabeth trembled inside. Rather than release her hand immediately, he gave it a lingering brush of his finger. “The pleasure was all mine.”
Seconds later, she slowly drifted from the room. Before closing the door completely, she paused to look at him again. He was still watching her. She bit her lower lip and slowly closed the door. The sight of him continuing to look at her was astounding. Could a gentleman such as Mr. Darcy possibly be interested in me? Leaning against the closed door, she reminded herself to breathe.
~*~
Her grandfather was walking about the finely appointed room replete with a large mahogany desk and burgundy leather armchairs, all the trappings of a man who was unaccustomed to brokering disappointment. He looked grave and anxious. “Lady Elizabeth,” he said in a calm manner he likely did not possess, “I don’t like the idea of your spending time alone in Mr. Darcy’s company.”
“Why ever not, Your Grace?”
“It simply does not sit well with me—your being alone with the young man.”
“Mr. Darcy was in the library when I arrived there in search of a book. He was waiting for Avery’s return. What was I to do? Immediately turn and quit the room? That would have been quite inhospitable of me.”
“However innocent your being there may have been, you must be mindful of your situation.”
“My situation?”
“You may pretend not to comprehend the import of my words all you wish, my dear. The arrangement with Lord Frawley is no trifling matter. Were he in the country, I would announce your engagement.”
Indeed, the Duke of Dunsmore was a man who lived to have his way. He very much believed himself to be an honorable, decent man—a man far above reproach. Everything he did, he justified doing so for his family. So long as his actions were on their behalf, they were right, regardless of the means he employed.
Losing his son, Lord Frederick Montlake, in the carriage accident had done something to the duke. What great plans he had for his son, whom he doted upon. The duke’s own father had been the means of nearly ruining the family. In a short span of time since his father’s death, the duke had turned things around and returned his family home, wealth, and power to their former glory. To a man like the duke, who was fueled by ambition, it was not enough. He never wanted to see his family’s legacy threatened again. His own son would have seen to his wishes. He was well on the way to grooming the marquis into his own image of what his son and successor ought to be when the carriage accident robbed him of that hope.
Restoring his family’s name to its former glory had not been without a fair amount of what some might call sacrifice, for it involved bargaining his own granddaughter’s future. While in her cradle, Lady Bethany was promised to Lord Robert Frawley with her father’s blessing. This union was meant to satisfy the wishes of two families, who on their own were not inconsequential, but together they would be a force to be reckoned with. He was not about to see his plans thwarted.
In an impertinent manner meant to exhibit strength of determination, Elizabeth said, “I wish you would desist in this preposterous line of talk. I shall not marry that gentleman.”
The duke matched Elizabeth’s brash stance with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If this were any other day,
I might flatter your stubbornness with a soliloquy of all the reasons that marrying Lord Frawley is precisely what you will do. However, as I have other affairs to attend, suffice it to say that as long as I am head of this family, you will do as I say.”
Chapter 5 ~ Overbearing and Officious
Elizabeth sat in the chair across from her brother in what was best described as a rather unladylike fashion. “It’s simply not fair.”
She did not need to say more, for he knew exactly the nature of her complaint. “If you’re referring to your imminent engagement to Lord Frawley, I will say that I agree with you. However, my opinion on the matter will not get you very far. Our grandfather is used to arranging things for his own convenience.”
“And yet, he has no problem refraining from arranging your future life to suit his own purposes.”
“Don’t think I am ungrateful for that.” Standing, he said, “Take heart, dearest little sister,” Avery walked towards Elizabeth and opened his arms. She arose from her seat and accepted his proffered embrace. “As much as you like to complain about the old man, I dare say you love him more than anything on earth.”
Her brother was right. Elizabeth did indeed love the duke. She likened him to the best man in the world even though he was equal parts overbearing and officious. Who would blame her, what with his manner of doting on her and treating her as though she were a little princess even when being treated like a little princess was the last thing she wanted?
Avery said, “He simply wants what is best for you, for all of us. Besides, you could do much worse than marry Frawley. With his wealth combined with your fortune, you will be rich beyond compare.”
“You know all that means nothing to me. I would be just as happy with a man who has a fraction of Lord Frawley’s wealth.”
“You might be happy, but I dare say you may not be as comfortable.”
“Yes, but I would be in love. What could be better than spending one’s life with the one person in the world whom you love, the person who was fashioned for you?”
“Little sister, you are a romantic.” He held her more tightly. “I honestly did not know this about you.”
“There are far worse things that you might accuse me of, I suppose.”
“You know that I would not support our grandfather if I thought he meant to do anything that would do you any harm. You are my sister. I will do everything in my power to protect you. Besides, Frawley is not an unpleasant fellow. In fact, he is a good man. I know if you would but give him a chance, he would make you very happy.”
Elizabeth used that moment to turn the table on her brother, for here was a chance to recommend a possible alliance for him. Then he might know how she felt. “My dear brother, I might say the same to you.”
He placed his hands on the top of her arms and stood apart from their embrace. “Which of your friends are you about to advocate on behalf of now?”
Elizabeth said, “Grace is lovely. Everyone who knows her says so, and she would make an excellent duchess.”
“I cannot say with certainty that Lady Grace will not be a duchess one day, but she will not be my duchess. I will choose my own wife if it is all the same to you.”
Elizabeth threw up her hands. “Indeed. This brings us full circle. It’s simply not fair that Grandfather has taken it upon himself to decide my future marital state and does not bother to choose yours.”
“If it is any consolation, you and Frawley are not married yet, and from the looks of things, you and he will not be married anytime soon. Perhaps your would-be betrothed and you may never make it to the altar.”
~*~
Elizabeth woke up with a start. She had been dreaming again, and it was not the pleasant dream. The one she found so comforting she wished it would last forever. The one of the angelic creature with golden hair and blue eyes named Jane. It was the frighteningly disturbing dream of a tall man, who wore a long, flowing coat and black top hat, walking along the street holding a child’s hand. No matter how hard she tried, she always awakened before she could make out either of their faces.
Elizabeth got out of bed, drifted to the window, and pulled back the heavy velvet curtain. Peering outside at the dawn of a new day, she meant to piece together the remnants of her disturbing dream before its remembrance escaped her entirely.
She asked herself the often-asked questions. Why do I always awaken from my dream at the same place every time? Will I ever know the meaning of the dream? Elizabeth glanced at the clock. More restlessness than sleepiness stirred inside her. Two choices were before her. She could either return to her warm bed and attempt to pick up where she left off in her dream. As disturbing as it was, therein lay answers to a nagging yet unknown question. Her alternative was venturing out of doors for a solitary stroll.
She released the drawn curtain. Perhaps if she were at the Dunsmore country estate, she could pursue the latter and by far the preferred option, but her being in London made it an unlikely possibility. Her grandfather would be livid, as would her mother and her brother. She always knew that extraordinary measures were taken to protect her from strangers, especially whenever she was away from Dunsmore. Governesses and a host of masters brought in from London had been the means of her education.
Now that she was actually in London, she had a feeling of being sheltered even more. This was but one of the reasons she looked forward to the end of the Season, even though it had hardly begun. On the other hand, Elizabeth was not fashioned for disappointment and thus her sentiments did not preclude her from enjoying all the excitement the Season offered.
Today promises to be not unlike any other in that respect. At the end of it all, there’d be a night at the theater. What an excellent occasion that would be, for everyone who was anyone in their circle would certainly be in attendance. A pair of dark, brooding eyes became uppermost in her mind, sending a warm feeling coursing through her body. Exceedingly puzzled to be feeling that way about a man, particularly one whom she now knew to be engaged to marry his cousin, if one were to believe the many accounts, she hugged her pillow to her chest. What is the harm, especially knowing as I do that my grandfather would never approve of an alliance between Mr. Darcy and me even if he were not tacitly engaged to marry another?
That evening, Elizabeth looked around the theater to see what she could see. Her opera glass to her eyes, her gaze drifted to Mr. Darcy’s box. She pursed her lips. It looked as though he was not very comfortable. Elizabeth well understood his discomfort. Sitting next to him was Miss Caroline Bingley whom Elizabeth had met on two prior occasions. Poor Miss Bingley. Who in town who knows Mr. Darcy does not know about his tacit engagement to his cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh?
After attending to the play for a while, Elizabeth’s attention was drawn once more to the box across the theater. She noticed that Mr. Darcy was observing her. She quickly lowered her glasses. How embarrassing!
During the intermezzo, Lady Sophia insisted her daughter accompany her as she went to speak with her friend, Lady Carol Matthews. Elizabeth would much rather stay put after she had been caught staring. How awkward it would be if she were to meet with Mr. Darcy face-to-face. But, her mother would not be so easily put off.
They had not ventured very far through the crowded aisles when, indeed, Mr. Darcy approached them. How striking he was that evening; dressed in stark black and white, he drew the eye of nearly every woman in the room with his handsome person.
“Lady Montlake,” said he, bowing. “Lady Elizabeth.” Accepting her proffered hand, he raised it to his lips, and bestowed a kiss. “What a pleasure it is seeing both of you this evening.”
“Mr. Darcy, the pleasure is ours.” Her ladyship looked at Elizabeth whose hand Darcy still held. “Is it not, my dear Elizabeth?” said Lady Sophia, her voice as well as her eyes teeming with a bit of amusement.
Darcy released Elizabeth’s hand. She smiled. “Indeed. It is a pleasure.”
Lady Sophia said, “I understand you recently returned from your annu
al trip to Kent. Did you enjoy a pleasant visit with Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”
“Indeed, I did, your ladyship. Thank you for asking.”
Elizabeth heard herself saying, “And your cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh—did you enjoy a pleasant visit with her as well?”
“I enjoyed a lovely visit with my cousin as well.”
Elizabeth had a purpose in asking about Miss de Bourgh. She was looking for hints of his true regard for the young lady who was said to be his intended. She always considered herself a fair studier of people. If there were any truth to the rumors, she would know it by his tone. In this case, his manner conveyed no symptom of love at all for his cousin.
“I was sorry to hear you would not be joining us for a late supper after the theater, Mr. Darcy,” said Lady Sophia. “We do not see you nearly so often as we would like to.”
“I am sorry that I was unable to accept, but my plans were set when I received the invitation.”
“Yes, Avery mentioned your having made plans to dine with your friend Mr. Charles Bingley.”
Now fully recovered from any awkwardness pursuant to her earlier transgression of being caught spying on him and his party, Elizabeth decided a little teasing was in order. “You must give the Bingleys our best, especially Mr. Bingley’s sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, your particular friend, I believe.”
“I am not opposed to escorting you to where the Bingleys are standing, Lady Elizabeth. Then you might speak with Miss Bingley yourself. Surely nothing would please her more than to be graced by your presence. I am sure she will be honored.”
When would she learn that he would use every attempt she made at teasing him as an opportunity to turn the tables on her? Surely he knew that such an encounter as he proposed was the last thing Elizabeth wished for. Caroline Bingley was not her favorite person. Elizabeth had no doubt the feeling on the young lady’s part was mutual. If not for all the amusement Elizabeth garnered in witnessing the young woman’s pursuit of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth would have no use for her at all.