by Kelly Miller
Her luminous eyes held a teasing gleam as she greeted him. “I understood you to be keeping company with my husband. Did you not find the interview with a prospective new steward stimulating and informative?”
He displayed a sheepish smile. “Oh, it was informative enough, but the opportunity to travel to a new town with a lovely guide like you is much more tempting.”
Her cheeks flushed with colour, and her visage lost a portion of its mirth. “You are welcome to join me.”
As they rode in the open landau towards Lambton, Elizabeth asked him of his life in Calabria. Pulled out of his study of her long, thick eyelashes, he coughed. Drawing from the memories of the man whose body he had borrowed, he described in scrupulous detail a merry existence with plenty of social engagements and diverse entertainments. Of course, given the Lothario’s proclivities, he could not mention all of the man’s most favoured activities.
The perfect listener, Elizabeth displayed an expression of rapt interest and posed questions that displayed a curious and intelligent mind. As he answered her queries, a peculiar sensation overcame him that hampered his breathing.
In that moment, comprehension silenced him. Without question, the main source of Darcy’s happiness, despite being rich, well connected, rather handsome, and blessed with a healthy son was his captivating wife. With this conclusion came the resolution to spend at least as much time with her as with her husband to comprehend her influence on the man. Darcy might object to this, but that was of no concern; he did not have a choice in the matter.
***
As they walked along the main street in Lambton, followed by two footmen, it was soon obvious that Elizabeth and Graham were the subjects of uncommon interest. More people walked the cobblestoned thoroughfare on this day than on any of her prior visits to the town. It was strange—as if the entire neighbourhood had the same intention at once. Many of the local landowners appeared before them to pay their respects to the mistress of Pemberley and obtain an introduction to her dashing, handsome companion.
The lack of an acquaintance with her did not act as a deterrent. A number of people passed by with the apparent goal of obtaining a closer look at the mysterious and attractive man providing her escort. Not that it would remain a mystery for long. Soon after being introduced to Graham, her neighbours could be seen in close conference with others. Before long, all of Lambton would be aware that Mr. Graham was a good friend of Mr. Darcy, visiting the area from Calabria, and walking out alone with Mrs. Darcy.
They were subjected to such constant surveillance whilst they shopped that Elizabeth had to resist the inclination to hunch her back and hide behind Graham’s bulkier frame. She was accustomed to the stares of the local inhabitants when she entered town, but today was different. Were they in London, shopping on the arm of a charming stranger could stimulate rumours of an affair, but these townspeople would not suspect her of such base activity, would they? Her qualms had died down when a gentleman leaving the post office in haste collided with Graham. The man yelled out an expletive.
Graham smiled at the man who had been, without question, the one at fault. “Please excuse me.”
Her smile froze on her face. It was Andrew Oakley, the son and heir of a local estate owner. Mr. Oakley was one of the few unpleasant people who lived in the area. He was smug, arrogant, and rude. Even worse was the fact that he never failed to gaze at her with a lascivious gleam in his eyes; it was enough to turn her stomach.
Mr. Oakley stood erect with his chest out and his chin high. He lifted his right hand to his left shoulder. His left arm hung in an odd angle, as if it had been injured. “Yes, well, you ought to pay attention to where you are going.” He started, and his eyes widened in recognition. “Mrs. Darcy!”
She managed to withhold the frown she was inclined to give him. “Mr. Oakley.”
He glanced around them. “Mr. Darcy is not with you today?”
She presented a tight smile. “As you can see, he is not here.”
His eyes skimmed the length of Graham’s form as if appraising a horse at auction. Her pulse rate soared. Not for the first time, the disadvantages to Graham’s eye-catching choice of attire garnered her notice. Would that he was a trifle less ostentatious!
Mr. Oakley curled his lips into a sneer. “I suppose it is ideal for you both that Mr. Darcy is absent. After all, you know the saying, ‘one’s too few; three’s too many.’ He would only be in the way.” His stare penetrated her.
She huffed out her breath. The audacity of the man! How dare he say such a thing? She had half a mind to tell him in great detail what she thought of him, but she restrained herself. It would be undignified to make a public scene, and she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had upset her. In a tone of indifference, she said, “Please excuse us. We are pressed for time.”
With an expression that was both an ogle and a glare, Mr. Oakley tipped his hat in a mocking fashion and stalked off.
Graham’s eyes narrowed as his gaze followed the man’s departure. “What a disagreeable fellow!”
“He is indeed. I am sorry to say Mr. Oakley’s conduct was no worse than usual.”
“Hmm.” He mumbled under his breath, “It is just as well then.”
“What is just as well?”
His complexion deepened in colour. “Oh, I—I did not mean anything. My mind was wandering.”
She chewed on her lower lip. Graham was a peculiar gentleman.
Once she declared her shopping finished, Graham insisted on taking her to the inn for refreshments. Upon their arrival, the inn was deserted except for a pair of older men in a back corner, who were preparing to depart. No sooner had they taken their seats than a crowd of ladies entered the inn. Walking in pairs and small groups, they filled the empty chairs until nary a one was left unoccupied. What was happening? Had someone called a town meeting? If so, she should have heard of it.
The frequent glances from the other patrons of the inn betrayed an interest in the two of them that overpowered the attraction of those seated at their own tables. Elizabeth’s bearing took on an uncharacteristic stiffness as she perused the room.
“Elizabeth, is aught amiss?”
Her face glowed with heat under his unwavering scrutiny. She took a deep breath. “You must have noticed that all the ladies in the room keep staring at us. I fear a few of them may believe it improper for me to be here alone with you. I know we are not doing anything wrong, but my concern is that they may spread spurious gossip concerning me.”
Graham twisted his upper body to behold the women at the other tables, offering them a charming smile as he replied to Elizabeth, “I cannot imagine why. I am one of your husband’s oldest friends, and we are out in public, not hiding in a dark room. But I know a way to prove we have nothing to hide.” He stood and turned to face the others in the room as he spoke. “Pardon me, ladies, may I have your attention?”
Graham’s statement was superfluous; all eyes in the room were riveted upon him.
“I could not help but observe that this town is blessed with an extraordinary abundance of attractive and amiable ladies.” Graham paused to slip a surreptitious wink towards her. “Mrs. Darcy and I invite all of you here to join us. We should appreciate the company, and being new to the area, I should love to get to know all of you.” He turned to address two male servants of the inn. “If you do not mind, please assist us by putting the other tables together with ours and bringing more chairs around so the other ladies may sit near us.”
Frenzied movement ensued as the women rose from their seats and rushed towards their table. Elizabeth gasped at the spectacle. Had she ever seen a group of ladies move with such haste? Many opted to carry their chairs rather than wait for the servants to move them. It was clear they sought to position themselves as close to Graham as possible. The two young male servants worked with dil
igence to accommodate all the ladies who, without exception, accepted the handsome stranger’s invitation. The serving girl, upon her return from the kitchen, froze and blinked at the sight of the tables moved and the chairs rearranged around the dashing stranger sitting with Mrs. Darcy.
Elizabeth smiled when her friend Mrs. Sarah Mead seized an available spot beside her. She leaned towards her, intending to make a remark on the singular behaviour of the ladies present, but the words died on her lips. Sarah’s eyes, glassy and directed at Graham, revealed that her friend was no less fascinated with the man than were any of the others.
***
Twenty minutes earlier
Sarah Mead was in her favourite chair sewing an infant’s dress for her neighbour’s newborn baby when the needle fell from her fingers. She stared at her hand. It was odd; all desire to finish the dress was gone. Instead, she had a strong impulse to visit the Lambton Inn.
During the short walk to the inn, Sarah encountered her neighbour, Mrs. Dyke. Finding they shared a common destination, they travelled together. Nearing the main street of the town, several other ladies—also walking to the inn—joined them.
***
Making her best effort to put names to faces, Elizabeth introduced Graham to all of the ladies who had joined their table. The few times she was at a loss, she benefited from the well-timed assistance of Sarah, who whispered the ladies’ names in her ear.
Graham called the serving girl. “As you can see, miss, we have decided to sit together. Please bring out your best teas and cakes for everyone.”
The girl stood transfixed for several moments, her eyes glued to Graham. When one of the young men who had moved the tables coughed, she flinched, blushed, and nodded, saying, “Yes, sir, right away,” before rushing back to the kitchen.
Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat with widening eyes before the beguiling exhibition of Graham speaking in turn to each lady gathered around them. One and all responded in the manner of an effusive coquette. All of the ladies present, even those staid and reserved members of the group, behaved as though captivated with his singular attribute of exuding attentiveness, sympathy, and approval for each of them and every word they uttered. It appeared the man left every lady present convinced of his genuine interest in her.
She marvelled at Graham’s ability to charm such a diverse group of women, ranging in age from sixteen to eight and sixty. The ladies interacted with him in such a familiar way that it was as though, in the thirty or so minutes spent in the man’s presence, they had shared a treasured and significant connection with him. It was clear that Graham possessed a rare gift—a kind of allure that induced others to wish to associate with him.
A trembling overtook her as she was reminded of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s poem “Pied Piper,” based on the old German legend. If Graham was of a mind to do so, he could lead those ladies anywhere he chose with little effort.
When it came time to leave, Graham paid the bill, gave the three inn workers generous gratuities, and walked around the expanded table, kissing each lady’s hand as he bade them farewell. One by one, the ladies, upon receiving their moment with the blond man, leaned towards him, stared into his eyes, and raved about what a pleasure it had been to meet him. Several of them placed their hands over their hearts or held handkerchiefs to their faces as he left them, as if overcome with emotion. As she and Graham walked away, a mass of chatter could be heard from the table as the ladies raved over the gentleman’s gallant manner, fascinating conversation, and striking appearance.
“That was amusing,” Graham said, as he escorted her to the carriage.
Elizabeth shook her head as she gaped at him. “Amusing, you say? That was nothing less than extraordinary! I have never witnessed anything like it. You had every woman in that inn ready to fall at your feet.”
“All but one.” He spoke in a light tone, but he raised his brows in a pointed look.
She stiffened, inhaling a forceful breath as she gazed back at him. What did he mean to imply? Was he not Fitzwilliam’s good friend?
His forehead contracted as he spoke. “Pray, do not misunderstand me, Elizabeth; I am pleased to find you so immune to my charms. It bodes well for Darcy’s future happiness. My old friend is indeed a lucky man.”
Exhaling a large burst of air, she gave him a weak smile. “Fitzwilliam and I are both lucky.”
***
Darcy’s interview with Mr. Boyle left him in no doubt that the man possessed the knowledge, skills, and experience he had been seeking in a steward. After being taken on an abbreviated tour of Pemberley’s grounds, including the steward’s living quarters, Mr. Boyle was offered the position. At his acceptance, it was agreed that he would start the job in a fortnight.
After Mr. Boyle left, Darcy raised his stiff shoulders then let them relax. At last, he had found a suitable steward. Soon he would have more time each day to devote to his wife and son. He drew near one of the side entrances to the house as a group of maids worked on laundry nearby.
“I ain’t seen a man so ’andsome and charming. I ’eard ’e’s to be ’ere a week. Sally, ’ave you seen the master’s friend, Mr. Graham?”
“Only from afar, and I am right keen to see ’im now!”
“The gent passed by me once today. I thought I’d faint. I swear ’e winked at me!”
“Milly, I don’t believe you; ’e wouldn’t do such a thing!”
“Tis true, I tell you! The man ’as the most beautiful golden ’air I have ever seen and…”
Gritting his teeth, Darcy picked up his pace, increasing his distance from the maids and their chatter. Blast! Was there anyone in the house who was not spellbound by that man? Earlier that day, he had caught even Mrs. Reynolds stealing glances at the man. She was old enough to be his grandmother!
He spent the rest of the afternoon in his study. He was not bothered by Graham and took pleasure in the reprieve. He worked straight through the afternoon until it was time to dress for dinner. On the way to his room, he stopped by the nursery. Bennet had awoken from a nap and asked to hear his papa read, so he spent fifteen minutes reading through a couple of his son’s favourite books before continuing to his chambers.
When he returned downstairs after dressing for dinner, he was drawn by sounds from the music room. He froze in place at the doorway, absorbed by the sight of his wife playing the pianoforte and singing a duet with Graham. His breathing hitched, and he was gripped with the force of a cutting discomfort. The two of them made an attractive picture together.
The man with the golden hair and perfect features was also blessed with an impressive baritone singing voice. Darcy remained in the doorway until they finished the song. When he clapped and entered the room, they both gazed at him.
Directing her gay smile towards him, Elizabeth said, “Fitzwilliam, there you are. Did you know Graham had such a marvellous singing voice?”
He managed something akin to a smile. “I did not—or perchance I forgot.”
She angled her head to the side as he bent to kiss her cheek. “I am sure I have never heard a better one.”
“I beg to differ, Elizabeth,” said Graham. “While your voice may not be perfect, there is a sweetness and an expression of feeling that I have never heard the likes of before; I compare it favourably to any famous opera singer.”
“I have always preferred Elizabeth’s singing voice to any other,” Darcy said.
Her eyes shone with amusement. “Now both of you are making statements too outrageous to be believed.” She patted his arm and gave him a fond smile. “Fitzwilliam may be pardoned for such aggrandisement: it is his duty as my husband to exaggerate my good qualities as much as possible.” She turned with a raised eyebrow towards Graham. “You, sir, have no excuse.”
Raising a hand over his heart, Graham staggered backward, as if shot by a musket. “Madam,
you wound me. I would not say such a thing unless I felt it to be the absolute truth.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. What a theatrical fool!
Biting back her grin, Elizabeth said, “Shall we go in and have dinner now?”
Graham patted his stomach. “By all means, let us eat.”
During dinner, while Graham was busy eating enough food for two men, Elizabeth queried Darcy for details of the interview with Mr. Boyle. He told her of the man’s experience and gave her the good news.
Her face lit up with a dazzling smile. “I am so relieved you found a man suitable for the job. I understand he will not start for a fortnight, and he will need time to learn the duties particular to Pemberley, but I can expect my husband to have more free time at last. Dare I hope we could plan a trip somewhere? Mayhap to the seaside?”
Buoyed by the vision of her beautiful countenance brimming with anticipation, energy infused his body. Yes—a brilliant notion. He would take her on a holiday. He would have taken her to Margate or Brighton last year, but one problem or another had always come up to postpone the trip. The picturesque sandy beaches, the peaceful rhythm of the waves, and the majestic beauty of the ocean could not fail to delight her. What could be more enticing than Elizabeth barefoot on the sand with her dress hitched up as she ran in and out of the water?
“I do not see why not. We can make plans for the trip next month.”
At that moment, a servant girl who had brought out a tray of bread bumped into the sideboard whilst staring at Graham. Darcy narrowed his eyes and let out a deep breath. Mrs. Reynolds would have to speak with the servants; their conduct around Graham was unacceptable.
Knowing his wife’s eating preferences, he handed her a slice of bread. “How was your shopping trip? Did you find everything you needed?”
Elizabeth spread butter on her bread as she spoke. “Oh yes. We went to the bookstore and Birk’s Mercantile and found several things at both places.”