Miss Darcy's Christmas

by Karen Aminadra

  Georgiana did not know whether to be elated or disappointed as she strode out into the hallway and stopped dead, her stomach sinking in disappointment, upon seeing who their visitors were—Lady Francesca and her brother Lord Hugh.

  “Oh, my dear! It is good that you have not ventured outside,” the former chirped as she untied her bonnet, handed her muff to Hobbs, and strode towards Georgiana. “The streets are in a terrible state.” She forwent the courtesy of curtseying and gripped Georgiana by the hand. “I do declare, if we had not arrived so very quickly, I believe I should have broken my neck, the pathways are so icy.” She turned and looked back at her brother. “I truly do believe they ought to do something about it.”

  Lord Hugh, divested of his outer garments, chuckled at his sister’s comment, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he made his way towards them. “My dear Fran, how on earth do you expect the government to do anything about that? They cannot control the weather.” He came to a halt and bowed. “Good afternoon to you, Miss Darcy. I trust you are well?”

  “Very well indeed, thank you. I am surprised that you dared to venture out if the pavements are so perilous.”

  “Indeed, they are, Miss Darcy, but you see, my sister had me to help her,” he replied with a warm smile brightening his face.

  “And to own the truth,” Lady Francesca added, “my brother could barely keep still at home. He was so restless; he just had to come here to visit with you.”

  Avoiding looking at either of the siblings, Georgiana felt the colour rising her cheeks. “Come on through to the drawing room. It’s much warmer in there. We shall have tea.”

  As she rang the bell to call for tea, Georgiana admitted to herself that it was better to have company and some occupation than to continue her constant pacing of the house while waiting for Richard’s return. Despite the fact that she was not overly fond of Lady Francesca, she would at least bring some gossip and help to while away the hours.

  When the tea things arrived, along with a fruit loaf and more mince pies, Georgiana was glad there were more people to eat the cakes than just herself and Aunt Henrietta. The last thing she needed was to return to Derbyshire in the spring a few pounds heavier than when she left.

  In fact, the DeVere siblings did bring gossip. Lady Francesca, with her voracious appetite for such news, barely gave Georgiana an opportunity to speak herself. As Lady Francesca regaled them with the shocking goings on in society, Georgiana’s eyes strayed to Lord Hugh.

  He was dressed in fawn trousers with a blue jacket and a beautiful deep wine-coloured brocade waistcoat. Her eyes traced the pattern, lingering a moment longer than they ought to have. As the firelight reflected off his cravat, she could tell it was made from the finest silk, tied expertly, by his valet no doubt, and secured in place with what she could only surmise was a diamond-studded pin. His sideburns were neatly trimmed and his hair fashionably tousled. For an instant, Georgiana imagined what it would be like to run her fingers through his reddish-brown hair. She was startled by her train of thought and the warmth that it produced spreading through her body.

  Georgiana helped herself to another mince pie in her best effort to draw her mind away from Lord Hugh. It was to no avail, however, because as soon she picked up another pie, he followed suit, changing where he was seated and repositioning himself next to her on the settee.

  Georgiana’s heart thumped. She could barely breathe from his proximity, let alone chew the mouthful of sweet pie.

  “My sister can certainly prattle on, can’t she?” Lord Hugh whispered, leaning closer to Georgiana so that she stopped breathing altogether.

  She could not respond and was scarcely able to raise her eyes to his.

  “I do apologise.”

  “It is fine. My aunt likes to hear about the ton,” Georgiana responded hoarsely.

  Still leaning into her, he replied, “That was not what I was apologising for.”

  Georgiana’s heart was beating so loudly she would have sworn the whole room could hear it.

  “I seem to have quite an overpowering effect on you, Miss Darcy.”

  He held her gaze, and Georgiana could not have looked away if she tried. This time, the heat in her cheeks spread downwards.

  “Do not be alarmed, my dear Miss Darcy. I feel the same way about you.”

  The room tilted, and Aunt Henrietta and Lady Francesca disappeared. As far as she was concerned, she and Lord Hugh were the only ones in the room.

  “I want to tell you how ardently and deeply I have come to feel for you since our first meeting, Miss Darcy.”

  Georgiana swallowed.

  “You must know how I feel.” His eyes scanned her face as he spoke, searching for a hint of recognition.

  “I…” Her mouth had gone so dry that she could not speak, let alone formulate what she wished to say.

  “If, by some impossible misfortune, you do not know how I feel, please allow me to tell you and show you every day for the rest of our lives.”

  Georgiana could feel her mouth falling open and snapped it shut before she drew attention to herself.

  Lord Hugh his face closer to hers. “You understand what I’m saying, do you not, Miss Darcy?”

  To own the truth, Georgiana did not know for certain what he was trying to say. Is he declaring himself? Is he proposing marriage to me? Again, she swallowed and frowned, unable to speak.

  “I see my declaration has taken you quite by surprise.” He reached out with his free hand and laid it upon hers. “Please forgive me for the force of my passions. I am not accustomed to hiding what I feel. I believe it is better to make one’s intentions known rather than to dissimulate and leave the lady unsure and in danger of having a broken heart.”

  Georgiana observed him closely as he spoke. She could not detect any dissimulation in his speech or his manner. She softened towards him. The temporary paralysis that gripped her fled, and she found herself smiling up at him. “I believe I understand what you mean, Lord Hugh.”

  “I am glad to hear it. I would not wish to leave here today without you knowing the ardour of my growing affection for you.” He gave her hand a squeeze before withdrawing it. “I think we understand each other now, do we not?”

  His voice was husky, and Georgiana noticed a line of perspiration above his top lip. Slowly she nodded. “Yes,” she replied, unsure if she did indeed understand him.

  “Georgiana, dear,” Lady Francesca’s voice cut through, snapping the pair back to the drawing room. “Your aunt was just telling me that she is planning a dinner party and that Hugh and I will be invited.”

  Georgiana blinked rapidly. “Oh, yes, she is.”

  “How absolutely delightful it will be!” Lady Francesca clapped her hands together. “These long cold nights can be such a bore if we are all housebound. Let us hope the doomsayers in the broadsheet newspapers are all wrong and we are not in for the worst winter ever. It would be such a crying shame if snow prevented us from attending the dinner party.” She reached out and patted the cushion beside Aunt Henrietta. “It would not do at all, my dear Lady Matlock, for you to be stuck inside with no company and entertainment all winter long.” She straightened up and shook her head, making her perfect curls bounce. “That is not what we come to London for, is it? We come here to make merry. If all we are to do is to sit in front of a blazing fire every single night, we could have stayed at home with Mama and Papa.” She looked heavenward and rolled her eyes. “How absolutely tedious that would be! Endless rounds of whist and listening to Father read.” She giggled. “What a happy little party we shall be!”

  “Indeed, we shall,” Lord Hugh agreed with his sister, his eyes still firmly locked on Georgiana’s face. “We should all have a delightful time this winter,” he drawled.

  * * *

  Richard and Alex could see the small hamlet Maisie had alluded to up ahead and slowed their pace, bringing their horses to a gentle trot. The steeds seemed to appreciate the slower pace, their breath fogging the air as they moved. />
  Richard continued to feel guilty. He had never driven a horse so hard in his life. He regretted it but only hoped his own horse was being well looked after and was recovering. Still, right now his attention was on the row of houses to the right side of the road. In the centre sat one that was larger than the others. He surmised that was where the family were now abiding. He mulled over what he would say, knowing there would be no easy way to go about it.

  They tethered the horses at the gate and strode up to the front door. No doubt the whole village knew of their arrival by now. Alex, taking a quick look at Richard, rang the doorbell.

  It felt like they waited an eternity before the door was answered. They could hear movement behind it and frantic whispering. Then, very slowly, the door was opened a crack by a young girl.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  Richard cleared his throat. “My name is Colonel Fitzwilliam, and this is Mr Salisbury. We wish to speak to your father, Mr Ainsworth.”

  The young girl’s little eyes widened at the sound of their family name. Hurriedly, she shut the door again and could be heard crying out, “Papa, there are some gentlemen to see you!”

  Alex grinned and muttered, “They cannot avoid answering the door now.” He lowered his voice even more, “We know they are in there.”

  “And we know we have the correct house.”

  Alex nudged him in the ribs. “Turn around very slowly and take a look at the cottage behind us on the other side of the street.”

  Richard did as he was bid as nonchalantly as possible, and there he could see opposite them two old ladies peering out from behind the curtains of their cottage. He doffed the rim of his top hat at them. Immediately they shot back out of view.

  Richard turned back to face the Ainsworth’s front door, chuckling to himself.

  “Villages, eh?”

  Just then the door opened and before them stood a tired and worn-looking man that Richard guessed to be in his late fifties.

  “Good day to you, gentlemen. How may help you?” he asked, his voice just as tired as his face.

  “Mr Ainsworth?” Richard asked.

  “Yes?”

  Richard and Alex looked at each other before Richard pressed on. “We are come to enquire about your daughter Margaret.”

  Mr Ainsworth went ghostly white. “I… I… I’m sorry, but… I…”

  “We mean you and your family no harm, I can assure you,” Richard blurted. “We merely wish to ask a few questions and to see if we can be of any assistance.”

  Mr Ainsworth’s face turned from ghostly white to angry red in an instant. “We do not need charity. I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time.”

  He made to close the door, but Richard was quicker and stepped over the threshold. “Forgive me, Mr Ainsworth, but this is important.”

  Richard did not like forcing entry into the man’s home, but he felt he had no alternative. They needed to know whether Lord Hugh was the father of the child or not.

  As though sensing Richard’s train of thought, a baby could be heard crying somewhere upstairs. He turned and watched as Mr Ainsworth latched the door behind them. “Again, I apologise. We wish to speak to you and Miss Ainsworth.”

  “Mrs Murray,” the old man corrected him.

  Richard inclined his head. “Right you are. We would like to speak to yourself and Mrs Murray.”

  As Alex fiddled with the rim of his top hat in his hands, Richard studied Mr Ainsworth’s face. He had never seen a person looking so careworn. His heart went out to him. He knew the best thing he could do was to go along with the ruse that Margaret was indeed a widow and the babe’s father was dead.

  Mr Ainsworth disappeared back out into the hallway. Placing their hats and coats over the back of a chair beside the fireplace, Richard and Alex seated themselves. They did not wait long before the old man returned with his young daughter.

  Richard was surprised when he saw her. Dear God, she looks so much like Georgiana!

  The two of them rose and bowed in greeting.

  “Mrs Murray, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Richard said.

  The young lady curtsied and hurriedly sat down as far away from the pair as was physically possible in the small drawing room.

  “Well, what do you want?” Mr Ainsworth asked, hovering protectively beside his daughter’s chair.

  Richard looked down at his hands. Now they were there, he scarcely knew where to begin. “I beg your indulgence, Mrs Murray, but there is no easy way to do this, so I must come straight to the point. You recently resided in Richmond, did you not?”

  She looked up at her father and then nodded.

  “Where you were safely delivered of a boy. Is that so?”

  Again, the young lad’s cries from above stairs answered the question for her.

  In the tiniest voice, she replied, “Walter. His name is Walter.”

  “She named the lad after me,” Mr Ainsworth added, puffing out his chest.

  “It is a good name,” Alex replied.

  Taking a deep breath, Richard plunged in. “Is the infant’s father Lord Hugh DeVere?”

  Margaret whimpered in panic, looked back at her father, and burst into tears. “We are found out! I am ruined!”

  Mr Ainsworth’s eyes bulged in his head and he stepped forward threateningly. “How dare you come into my house and make accusations of that sort!”

  Richard held up his hands defensively. “I mean no harm by it, I assure you. We have travelled all the way from North London simply to ascertain the truth before Lord Hugh…” Richard could not finish a sentence. His throat clamped tightly shut and his eyes stung with tears.

  Alex shuffled to the edge of the chair. “It’s his cousin, you see? We want to prevent it happening again to her.”

  Richard stared at Margaret who continued to weep, her hands covering her face.

  “I can tell by the looks of the two of you that the Colonel’s cousin is a woman of means and a gentle lady, I am sure.” Mr Ainsworth breathed heavily through his nose. “I doubt very much he would try something so underhanded as getting her with child as he did with my Maggie.”

  “No…” Richard’s voice cracked with emotion. “But he might very well be after her dowry. And if our estimation of his reputation is correct, I doubt he will be a very faithful husband.”

  Mr Ainsworth studied Richard’s face. The latter resisted the urge to look away. He wanted the old man to see the pain on his face and anguish he felt over protecting his cousin.

  “You’re right there.” Mr Ainsworth’s face screwed up in disgust. “He is a scoundrel and I doubt he would ever change his ways. She’s not the only girl he’s put in the family way, I can tell you.” He put his arm about his daughter’s shoulders. “He’s done my girl wrong. He’s damaged what can never be fixed. That’s why we moved here.” His eyes traversed the room. “Here we can start again. Here she is Mrs Murray, the widow, and little Walter is an orphan. My youngest, Charlotte—you saw opening the door—won’t be marred by this scandal if we can keep up the deception.”

  “I can assure you, Mr Ainsworth, that we have no intention of doing or saying anything that would cause your family any more hurt.”

  “I won’t be responsible for my actions, Colonel, if you even tried it,” his eyes welled with tears. “I’ll not have my daughter ruined forever, I tell you!” he shouted through gritted teeth.

  Richard stood. “I would never put your daughter or her reputation in harm’s way. I would like to offer my assistance, if I may.”

  Mr Ainsworth visibly deflated and sat down heavily in the chair beside his daughter, knocking Richard’s gloves to the floor. “We thought he was going to ask for her hand in marriage,” he said, his head bowed to his knees. “He courted her all proper like.”

  Richard and Alex stole a quick glance at each other, both of them unwilling to speak in case they stopped the old man from telling the story.

  It turned out that their suspicions were correct. L
ord Hugh had made overtures to the young Margaret, with the intention of bedding, not wedding, her.

  Richard felt sick to his stomach that a woman could be used so poorly.

  When the Duke of Somerset discovered his son’s dalliance, he demanded that he marry a rich lady within the year. He was warned never to see Margaret again.

  Richard watched on helplessly as the young woman sobbed into her hands—her heart clearly shattered.

  After being warned off in a letter from the Duke, which Mr Ainsworth said they could read, they devised the strategy of claiming she was a widow and the boy was orphaned.

  Richard knew that, unless Lord Hugh married the girl, there was no other viable course of action for the family to take.

  The old man rose, unlocked the bureau standing in the corner of the room, and produced the letter. He handed it to Richard, who immediately recognised the seal of the Duke of Somerset.

  It was all true. Alex had not told him gossip at all, but hard facts, back at his London townhouse. Richard felt nauseated.

  “Forgive me for being impertinent, Mr Ainsworth, but what of your income?” Alex asked.

  “I left my position at the bank. I only have a small income. A mere one hundred pounds per annum,” he rubbed nervously at his neck.

  “Then how can you afford this house?” Alex prodded further.

  “It belonged to my wife’s father, the village doctor here. He passed away last year.” He looked at his daughter. “I had thought to sell it, but we need it now.”

  “That is fortunate indeed,” Alex breathed.

  “Aye, ’tis.”

  Richard asked if they could see the infant. When Margaret fetched him and brought him into the drawing room, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind whose child he was. The shock of reddish-brown hair was enough of a telltale sign of his patronage.

  They shared a meal together and, when they were finally ready to depart back to London, both Alex and Richard felt they ought to do more. Their departing words were that they would be in touch by letter. Richard was determined to do right by the wronged girl. He just did not know what or how.