Miss Darcy's Christmas

by Karen Aminadra

  Georgiana paled. She could feel the blood draining from her face. The last thing she wanted was to plant the seed of suspicion that she preferred Lord Hugh.

  “No one gentleman in particular, my dear.”

  Georgiana tilted her head to the side. “We were speaking generally, of course.”

  “Of course,” Lady Francesca continued to grin. “I will be the soul of discretion.”

  Opening her mouth to protest, Georgiana’s utterance was cut short by the reappearance of the gentlemen.

  “Here we are, ladies!” Hugh declared, handing Georgiana a glass of red wine. “I hope we haven’t missed out on any juicy gossiping.” He winked at his sister.

  “Oh, Hugh!” Lady Francesca giggled. “You know it would be imprudent for us to tell tales, especially about the very gentlemen we were discussing.”

  Again, Georgiana felt the blood drain from her face and her stomach pitched downwards.

  “Indeed?” Hugh grinned like a cat that had been given cream as he re-seated himself.

  “Lady Francesca jests with you,” Georgiana snapped, standing, and returning to her chair. She placed the glass back on the tray on the corner table as she passed, the wine untouched.

  “Do not be offended, Miss Darcy.” Hugh smirked with satisfaction as he spoke. “It is no crime to talk about young men. I believe all women do it.”

  “Quite right too!” Lady Francesca slipped into her seat, shifting it a little closer to Richard. “After all, if we did not, we would not know with whom we were in competition for the gentleman’s affections.”

  Georgiana stared in front of her, her eyes unseeing. She bristled at the insinuation that they were discussing which of the men they preferred. She was beginning to wish she could go home.

  “Lady Francesca,” Aunt Henrietta spoke up, loudly enough to be heard at the other end of the box. “It is unkind to jest so and lead your brother to believe we discussed that which we did not.”

  Georgiana did not look back, but she could feel the change in atmosphere.

  “I beg your forgiveness, Lady Matlock, but that was not my understanding of the discussion you were having with your niece. But…” Georgiana heard Lady Francesca’s fan snap open “…my lips will be sealed on the subject, especially to save dear Miss Darcy’s blushes.”

  Once more she made the insinuation even after Aunt Henrietta had refuted her claim. Georgiana silently fumed. Her nails dug so deeply into her silk reticule that she was convinced she will have ruined it. She cared not. She could feel all eyes on her, and she fought the tears that stung her eyes. She hated the idea that Richard would now believe she was falling in love with Lord Hugh.

  “Come now, Miss Darcy,” Hugh nudged her as the candles were snuffed again. “Do not be offended. I am flattered you think so well of me.”

  A spiteful retort died on her tongue as the last of the candles sputtered and died and the curtain rose once more to the raucous accompaniment of the orchestra in the pit.

  * * *

  Richard watched his young cousin squirm with discomfort once they returned to the box with the glasses of wine. He disliked the direction the conversation was heading but felt his mother dealt with it sufficiently.

  He was, however, stunned to hear Lady Francesca so openly continue the conversation.

  He kept his mouth shut and his eye on his cousin. She wasn’t happy. She sat bolt upright in the chair and her back was stiff. He watched her jaw stiffen and clench. He could not read her expression from the side, but having known her since she was born, he was pretty confident he could read her body language. She was angry and more than a little upset.

  Does she prefer Lord Hugh above any other after so short an acquaintance? The very thought left him bereft.

  “Are you quite well, Colonel?” Lady Francesca purred in his ear as the music began to play once more.

  “Quite well, thank you,” he replied shortly and returned his face to the stage, although his eyes flicked repeatedly to Georgiana. Oh, how I wish I could whisk you away from here and take you home, he lamented, feeling guilty after promising to protect her from harm. How can one protect a lady from gossip and careless tongue-wagging?

  The remainder of the ballet passed in an interminable blur for Richard. He was consumed with the overwhelming sensation of having let both his cousins down.

  As they stood to leave, he could almost hear Darcy laugh. “You cannot put a stop to people’s tongues, Richard. That is the one thing that most people in society have the least control over.”

  He knew Darcy was right. The only thing he could hope for was the opportunity to speak with Georgiana himself, either on the journey home or when they arrived back.

  His stomach clenched. He needed to know if she was falling in love with Lord Hugh DeVere.

  Thankfully, the ballet came to an end and they filtered with everyone else, bustling for the exit. Lady Francesca tightly held on to his arm. He glanced down at her and saw her look up at him with her eyes wide and full of admiration.

  Oh, dear God, he groaned inside. Please tell me she has not set her sights on me. He baulked at the thought of spending his days attached to such a gossipy, sanctimonious harridan as she. All the same, he mustered a kindly smile to bestow upon her. “Never fear. We shall make it out of here in one piece,” he quipped.

  Richard was grateful that they travelled back to Pembroke Square in their own carriage.

  He watched, impressed, as his mother and Georgiana both eloquently and graciously thanked the DeVeres for such a wonderful evening of entertainment.

  He tensed as Lord Hugh kissed the back of Georgiana’s hand. He was grateful it remained gloved and shielded her skin from his lips.

  Richard watched on as Lord Hugh held on to her hand far longer than was necessary and looked deeply into her eyes. “Until we meet again tomorrow, Miss Darcy. I shall not rest until I am by your side once more.”

  It was all Richard could do to prevent himself from tearing DeVere away from his fair cousin and bodily shoving him into his own carriage.

  He was gratified to see Lord Hugh’s words had no positive effect on his cousin. Her reply caused him to turn aside, hiding the laugh that was on the verge of bursting out.

  “Thank you for your kind attention, Lord Hugh, but I fear we shall not be home to visitors tomorrow. I believe with such a late night, we shall attend to family matters.”

  Turning back, Richard caught the blatant pout on Lord Hugh’s face. “You would wound a gentleman so?”

  Richard was instantly by his cousin’s side. “Miss Darcy is correct. My mother is an elderly widow, Lord Hugh. We shall rest tomorrow.”

  He handed Georgiana into the carriage before Lord Hugh could utter another word.

  Richard was too well brought up as to leave it there. He looked back at the brother and sister. “Again, we thank you for the evening’s entertainment.” He smiled. “I am sure I speak for the ladies when I say we hope to repeat this.” He purposely did not add when or soon. He then addressed his friend. “Louis, are you coming with us or with the DeVeres?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Lady Francesca’s mouth fall open.

  “I…I’ve been invited back to the DeVeres for a cup or two.” Louis Ashton looked Lady Francesca up and down as he spoke and sank in Richard’s estimation.

  What is it about women that can turn men into monsters? he asked himself. “Very well. I hope you all have a pleasant time.” He reached out and took Lady Francesca’s hand, kissing it lightly. “Lady Francesca, it was a pleasure.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, Colonel,” she gushed.

  He bowed and climbed into the carriage.

  All three of them smiled and waved as they pulled away into the night.

  Georgiana leant across the carriage, lightly touching his knee. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  His heart swelled within him. That was all he needed to hear for his emotions to settle back down.

  “Yes. Thank you, Richard
.”

  He glanced over at his mother. She was tight-lipped.

  “I don’t mind saying I like Lord Hugh, but his sister!” she burst out.

  Laughter ripped through the carriage.

  “And I do not particularly like being called elderly, Richard!” she snapped.

  “I apologise, Mama. It was for a good cause.”

  “I know.” His mother reached out and took hold of Georgiana’s hand. “My dear, if you wish to see Lady Francesca again, and it is none of my business if you do so socially or not, then please do not include me in any of the arrangements. I do not think I could maintain my countenance if I had to endure that woman again for an entire evening without a means of escape.”

  Again their laughter roared aloud.

  “I promise, Aunt,” Georgiana replied when she had stopped laughing.

  I do not wish you to see them ever again, whether socially again or not, Richard thought.

  Ten

  Georgiana stayed up writing her thoughts down in her journal. She wasn’t too regular at writing in it, but whenever she felt conflicted, she believed it helped. She then wrote a letter to Elizabeth and, yawning, turned in for the night.

  She awoke late and joined her aunt in the breakfast room for coffee.

  Aunt Henrietta smiled, looking tired as she sat down. “Good morning, my dear. I see you are as tired by last night as I am.” She passed the coffeepot. “It is still hot.”

  “I confess I stayed up late writing to Elizabeth,” Georgiana replied, pouring herself a cup of the steaming liquid and savouring its strong scent.

  “Yes. I saw it in the hall, ready to go to the post.” Aunt Henrietta stifled a yawn. “I am convinced my days of gallivanting around town are long past. I believe it will take me a day or two to recover from such a late night.”

  “Not to worry, Aunt. We shall remain at home tonight. I brought a book or two I would like to read, upon Elizabeth’s recommendation.”

  Aunt Henrietta looked up sharply, her attention piqued. “Really? Oh, do share them with me when you’ve finished. Elizabeth is always such a good judge of books.”

  “Yes, she is,” Georgiana smiled into her coffee cup and watched her aunt read from a piece of paper laid on the yellow tablecloth. “What is it, Aunt?”

  The older woman huffed and rubbed her face. “Nothing to concern yourself with, just household expenses.” She nodded towards Georgiana’s coffee cup. “It seems the import levies for coffee are increasing, as are those for candles.” She shook her head from side to side. “Oh, if only our fathers and mothers taught us well how to manage household accounts without a husband.”

  “Will Richard not see to it?” she asked, concerned at how drained her aunt looked. “Shall I fetch him?”

  “Yes, please do” came the weary reply.

  Georgiana was out of her chair before Aunt Henrietta had finished speaking, she was so concerned over her health. She ran up the stairs and to Richard’s room. The pair almost collided as he exited at the same time.

  With shortness of breath, Georgiana explained the situation as they descended the stairs together. “I am convinced her fatigue is not entirely owing to being out late last night. I fear the running of the home weighs heavily upon her without Uncle Thomas.”

  Richard merely nodded once and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Georgiana. I shall take care of it.”

  She stood in the hallway watching helplessly as he strode into the breakfast room and straight up to his mother. Georgiana thought it best to give them a moment or two alone. She dallied by the hall table and was gratified to see the letter plate was empty; her missive to Elizabeth was on its way to Hertfordshire.

  Slowly returning to her late breakfast, Georgiana looked on, her heart touched by the tender display of affection between mother and son. Richard embraced Aunt Henrietta and held her tight while she wept.

  Upon hearing the sound, Georgiana turned away.

  “No, dearest child. Come back,” Aunt Henrietta called out, her voice cracking with emotion. “You are family, my dear.”

  Richard held out his hand to her, and Georgiana tiptoed back into the room.

  “Forgive me,” Aunt Henrietta wept. “I still am overcome from time to time.”

  “You have nothing to apologise for, Aunt.” She took Richard’s hand and knelt on the parquet flooring before Aunt Henrietta. “I would think there was something amiss if you weren’t overcome now and then.” Georgiana pecked her on the cheek.

  “I ought to have stepped in before, Mama.” Richard smoothed the shawl on her shoulders. “I will be more than happy to do all I can.”

  “You are a good son.” Aunt Henrietta turned her head and wept into his waistcoat.

  Georgiana looked up into his face and saw such deep love there that she too was moved to tears. “Do you wish to remain here in London for the season, Aunt?”

  Aunt Henrietta sat up straight and dabbed at her face with a napkin. “Of course, I do.” She cleared her throat. “We came her for the diversion, didn’t we?”

  “Well, yes, but I do not mind in the least if you are not diverted and wish to travel into Hertfordshire and stay with the Bingleys at Netherfield Park for Christmas.” Georgiana searched her aunt’s eyes for any hint that she wanted to leave.

  “No, my dear. I became disturbed over the household accounts and nothing more. It is at times like these that I need him the most.”

  Georgiana’s brows knit together. “I can only imagine.”

  “But we are here to enjoy ourselves, and you will not enjoy the company of a certain young gentleman if we retire to Hertfordshire.”

  “Aunt…” Georgiana sputtered, furious with herself for blushing at the mere mention of Lord Hugh.

  “I shall be fine. I assure you. Let us fix our gaze on your happiness now.” She patted Richard and Georgiana on the hands. “Come along. The coffee will be getting cold.”

  They joined her at the table, eating scones with their coffee. Georgiana was concerned about her aunt, but having Richard by her side appeared to have lifted a great weight from about his mother’s shoulders. Her face seemed less lined and filled with worry, her smile less forced.

  “Have the DeVeres sent word?” Richard asked, and Georgiana caught the hard edge to his voice.

  “No, I do not believe so,” his mother replied.

  “Good,” he replied, buttering a scone.

  “No, no, no!” Aunt Henrietta waved a warning finger in the air. “I do not believe it is good. Perhaps we were a little too hasty last night.”

  Both Richard and Georgiana stared at her.

  “How so?” he asked, a scone held in mid-air.

  “They were very kind in procuring tickets for the ballet and, just because we are not so fond of their manners, we ought not slight them.”

  Georgiana watched as Richard carefully replaced the scone on the china plate. “What do you suggest, Mama?”

  “I was thinking,” she began, taking a large daub of quince jam on her knife, “of having them over for dinner.”

  “Here?”

  Richard’s face was such a comical picture of incredulity, that Georgiana could barely contain the giggle that rose up inside her.

  “Yes, here,” Aunt Henrietta glared at Richard. “Just a little get-together. A thank-you, if you will. Then our obligations are fulfilled.”

  “Right.” Richard stared down at his scone as though it were unfamiliar to him.

  “Then we can see if Lord Hugh truly is the right beau to court our dear Georgiana.”

  Her mouth falling open, Georgiana choked on her words. “Court me?”

  “Now, Mother. I think—”

  “Fie, Richard! Who cares what you think when our little Georgiana is falling in love!” She bit into her scone and chewed while Richard and Georgiana gaped at her. “Oh, matchmaking is such fun! The son of a duke as well!”

  Eleven

  Richard had to get out of the house. He hurriedly ate a scone and downed a lukewarm
cup of coffee, then, after speaking to the housekeeper and butler about the accounts, departed the house in a rush.

  He was in such haste, he forgot his gloves and scarf. Cursing himself in frustration, he hailed a hackney cab. He knew where he would go—straight to Alexander Salisbury’s home.

  His friend was not surprised to see him. “How fared the ballet last night?” he laughed as he led Richard into his study. “Is it too early?” he asked, clinking a crystal whisky tumbler against a decanter on a stand in the corner.

  “Not today it isn’t, Alex,” Richard replied, slumping down in an overstuffed chair by the window. “Is it me or is it colder?”

  “No, it’s definitely colder. I’ve ordered more coal.” Alex handed Richard a generous glass of whisky and sat down opposite him, his legs crossed. “So, let it out. What’s got you so twisted up?”

  Richard stared into the fire for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “What do you know of Lord Hugh DeVere?”

  Alex snorted. “In or out of genteel society?” he cocked his head sideways and lifted his brows.

  “All of it.” Richard’s forehead settled into a scowl. “Is he the same man of whom I’ve heard tell?”

  “Hmm…that all depends on what you’ve heard told.”

  “Alex…” Richard warned.

  His friend held his hands up in defence. “Very well. I know him well from the gentleman’s club, where I wouldn’t advise anyone to play cards with him, if you know what I mean.”

  “He’s good? He cheats?” Richard prompted.

  “Possibly both,” he replied pulling a cigar from his pocket, snipping the end off, and lighting it. “There has been some talk of card-counting.”

  Richard swirled the whisky in the glass, breathed in the intoxicating vapour, and gulped down a mouthful. “Hardly unusual. What else?”

  Alex took his time in responding, dragging deeply on the cigar, holding his breath, and then blowing out smoke rings.

  Richard watched them slowly float towards the ceiling and evaporate.