The Remarkable Miss Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  The Remarkable Miss Darcy

  A Pride & Prejudice Variation

  Jennifer Joy

  “The Remarkable Miss Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation”

  A Meryton Mystery: Book 5

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems — except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without permission in writing from its publisher, Jennifer Joy.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Jennifer Joy

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  Twitter: @JenJoywrites

  Email: contact@jenniferjoywrites.com

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  Copyright © 2019 Jennifer Joy

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:978-1-944795-21-4

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  About the Author

  Other Books by Jennifer Joy

  Prologue

  Georgiana Darcy tiptoed down the hall to her father's study. The room still reeked of spirits, polished leather, and cigar smoke — a blend of aromas she would forever associate with him. She hoped her brother had opened the windows to air the room. The smoke made her cough.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy, recently in possession of the inheritance left to him by his father — an inheritance he did not want in its entirety for all that it contained consequences aside from the properties and accounts bestowed upon him — sat behind the solid mahogany desk where his father had formerly reigned over Pemberley. Neatly stacked ledgers lay unopened at his side, casting a shadow over Darcy's clutched hands.

  "Mr. Hutchins, am I to understand my father is responsible for the ruin of a family? That they were sent to debtor's prison because he chose to renege upon his word, letting them take the fall in his stead?" Darcy rubbed his hand over his face, the air in the room stifling and heavy. He opened the window, the earthy aroma of winter rainfall a welcome respite from the disheartening disappointment forced upon him.

  That such a meeting was necessary was a pity, but Darcy had known it would come. However, he could not have realized the extent of his deceased father's selfishness — so well had he covered over his faults — until now.

  Hutchins, whose own conscience had troubled him over the matter these many years, was both relieved to unburden himself and pained his revelation caused Darcy to think worse of a father for whom he had long ago lost respect. But his pride in the more honorable reaction of the son eased his guilt in sharing his burden, and so he justified himself in its telling.

  "He was not the only one, sir. Other families were involved, namely, Hamm, Ramsay, Pringle, Somerson, and Lord Kendall," Mr. Hutchins clarified.

  "Thank you, Hutchins, but the involvement of other respected families in society in no way lessens my father's transgression, nor does it minimize the role he played in the family's ruin. I wish to know how they were affected so I might make amends."

  Perhaps the gentlemen in the study would have spoken in more hushed tones had they realized Georgiana stood indecisively outside the closed door. She was much too polite to interrupt what she understood to be an important discussion, given the grave tones audible through the oak barrier. But her excitement in sharing her news was too great to give up so easily if the conversation was soon to come to an end. It was not every day she played Mozart's Fifth Sonata to completion. And while her father had required Georgiana to play her instrument quietly with her tutor, her brother enjoyed listening and often praised her progress. She lived for his praise, soaking it up like a kitten lapping cream.

  Unaware of the awkward position their conversation put her in, the gentlemen continued.

  "A wealthy benefactor without an heir extended his protection to the son of the indebted family. He will do well for himself on his own merits in trade," Hutchins assured Darcy.

  "A gentleman's son in trade? His standing in society is lost to him. It is one thing for a tradesman to move up. They are content with the scraps society tosses them, as harsh as it is. But a gentleman born into privilege will not take kindly to having his position denied him when he is forced to earn his living. His peers will look down on him when he is undeserving of their scorn. I wish to meet with him."

  Hutchins mouth drooped into a frown. "I am afraid that is impossible. He is currently on the continent. Might I suggest, sir, if I may be so bold as to speak plainly, that you allow bygones to be bygones? Many years have passed, and you might create more wounds were you to bring them up again. Surely, a successful man of business is a step up from debtor's prison … even for a gentleman."

  Darcy pounded his fist against the desk, his voice dagger sharp. "Drat it all, Hutchins. How am I to take on the legacy of my father when he has used it so poorly? Had he no care for others?"

  The restoration of the Darcy name fell squarely on his shoulders, but he was up to the task. Let it never be said Fitzwilliam Darcy acted dishonorably. He would hold himself accountable for his household and take pride in the exemplary reputation he would take pains to restore.

  Pressing his lips together, Hutchins dared not answer. His master had taken a serious blow today, and time would reveal his father's other offenses soon enough. There were many.

  Rubbing his temples, Darcy asked, "Have any of the other families attempted to make reparation?"

  "Forgive my impertinence, sir, but if you did not know of this before today, it is possible they are unaware of it as well. Of the families involved, only Mr. Somerson and Mr. Hamm are alive still, and neither gentleman is in a position to be of assistance should they wish it. Mr. Somerson is in poor health and Mr. Hamm is a bit touched in the head."

  Georgiana sighed and stepped away from the door. Her sonata would have to wait until later in the day. Her brother was nothing if not honorable, and he would not be finished with the topic until he was satisfied he had reached a kind and just solution — a difficult task, given the details she had overheard, for one virtue did not necessarily compliment the other.

  She would wait. She was patient.

  Chapter 1

  "Patience is highly overestimated. I have no use for it whatsoever," Lydia Bennet announced as she invaded Georgiana Darcy's bedchamber.

  Georgiana pressed her hand over her racing heart, Lydia's sudden appearance startling her so much, she disrupted the box of blotting sand over the papers she had been writing on. Chalky residue dusted her desk, her gown, her slippers, and the carpet that would now
need to be cleaned.

  Shaking her skirts and scrambling to collect the papers without creating more of a mess, Georgiana said, "You startled me, Lydia. Could you not think to knock first?" She frowned at the page she had been writing. The ink blurred the words, smudging over her palms and fingertips. It was the one spot the pounce had not reached. Oh, bother.

  Lydia giggled, her chestnut curls bouncing as vivaciously as Chloe, her beloved spaniel, did at her feet. The pair's stay at Darcy House in London no doubt offered a welcome reprieve to Mr. Bennet, who would rather supply his library shelves with volumes now the rebuilding of Longbourn was complete.

  Not one to take pleasure in the contents of her father's book room, Lydia had been overjoyed to accept Georgiana's invitation to join her for the London season. What were books compared to marriageable gentlemen?

  Georgiana scrubbed her hands at the washbasin, although she did not know why she bothered. Her fingers were always stained, and she had been obliged to become a champion correspondent to her friends to explain the constant indigo stains no amount of soap could remove from her hands.

  Plopping her plump figure on the settee in front of the window overlooking the garden, Lydia flipped her tendrils over her shoulder. "Have you ever known me to knock when I am in such a state? Would you not rather know why my patience has been so sorely tried?"

  Georgiana smiled, shaking her head. She and Lydia had become surprisingly close since William had married Elizabeth five years before. Five remarkable years. Not only had William found the love of his life in Elizabeth Bennet, but he had discovered a brother in Tanner — the one blessing to come from their father's many improprieties.

  Both of Georgiana's brothers had been blessed with women they adored. They conversed, debated, laughed, and teased each other — the perfect union of passionate lovers and trusted friends. It was beautiful to observe. And while Georgiana had determined in her heart to settle for nothing less, she was now one and twenty … and very much unattached. Much like Lydia.

  Georgiana did not need to ask Lydia to understand the source of her impatience. She felt it, too. There were days her heart overflowed, and she longed to share it with another.

  But Georgiana was patient. She would wait for the right man — a gentleman who would cherish her, not for her fortune, but for her own merit. She had learned from her mistake.

  Drying her hands, she sorted her papers and placed them carefully inside the desk drawer. Out of sight. Then, she joined Lydia.

  Her friend's eyes sparkled with tears. "No one understands my despair. I am one and twenty and unmarried. My four other sisters have found marital bliss. Even plain and boring Mary married the heir to Longbourn, a baronet at that. I am the last unattached Bennet, and now nothing short of a title will do."

  "Have you considered the Prince Regent?" Georgiana teased. If anyone were capable of setting their cap on royalty, it was Lydia.

  "I considered him, but it would never do. Prinny is accustomed to the adulation of his peers, and I demand to be adored," she said with a sigh, as if she had discussed the matter at length with the monarch. "I wish for so much," she added.

  Like a dutiful friend, Georgiana asked, "What do you wish for in a husband?"

  Quicker than a wink, Lydia said, "He must be handsome, titled, and horribly rich. Is that too much to ask?"

  If some considered Lydia indecisive and flighty, she was at least constant. Her requirements were the same as they had been five years before, with the only distinction being that her intended be "horribly" rich.

  "I think you have as much of a chance of meeting a gentleman to your liking as any other young lady," Georgiana said, attempting to calm her friend before she burst into tears and marred her complexion. Lydia would hate herself for putting her beauty at a disadvantage when they had a ball to attend that evening.

  To Georgiana's surprise, Lydia asked, "What about you, Georgie? What do you seek in a husband?"

  "I only wish for him to be sincere and kind." And to not smell of drink or cigars, she thought.

  Lydia wrinkled her nose. "And handsome! You must wish for that. You are wealthy enough in your own right, you do not need a fortune as I do. Nor do you require a title to outdo your sisters. But pray do not marry an ugly man."

  Georgiana laughed until Lydia pulled a flask from her pocket. What on earth was Lydia doing with a silver flask? "I hope your despair is not so great for you to turn to drink," she half-teased.

  Shaking the contents, Lydia said, "I am determined to enjoy myself this evening, and you shall too. This is for Mrs. Wiggins. The tiniest dribble in her tea, and she will fall asleep in a corner."

  "She will likely fall asleep in a corner without your help."

  Poor Mrs. Wiggins would have her work cut out for her that evening. She was an elderly woman with dull hearing and heavy eyelids. As a chaperone, she was hardly satisfactory, but William and Elizabeth did not have it in them to break the widow's heart by telling her as much. They had attempted once before to suggest she allow another, younger lady to assist her. It had taken six months of constant reassurance and several calls to the family physician for calming draughts before Mrs. Wiggins accepted they did not intend to toss her out into the street. The subject had not been brought up since.

  William trusted Georgiana to behave herself despite the lack of strict supervision the chaperone was supposed to provide. He did not, however, trust Lydia.

  Lydia returned the flask to her pocket. "I am not content to leave my future up to chance. I will give fate all the help it needs to get things right. Tonight is the night. I feel it in my bones." Glancing toward the dressing room, she asked, "What are you wearing this evening?"

  "Green." Georgiana said the first color to come to mind. She supposed it would do as well as any other color.

  Dancing was enjoyable enough when your partner was not after your fortune. But disinterested gentlemen were few and far between, and Georgiana doubted she would meet one at a private ball. Therein lay her problem, for there were few other socially acceptable places for ladies and gentlemen to meet.

  Lydia gasped. "Green! Oh, but you must not wear green. Your complexion is too fair, and you will look sickly in the candlelight. No, pink is much more suitable for you and infinitely more fetching. Green requires a darker complexion."

  Georgiana knew where this conversation was going. "Such as yours?"

  "Why, yes, now that you mention it," said Lydia, preening while Chloe looked up at her in undivided affection.

  Georgiana refrained from rolling her eyes. "I am never certain who stands to gain more for your interest, me or you. But your advice is sound. I will wear pink, and we shall look like a rose in bloom standing beside each other."

  Lydia arched an eyebrow. "I do not aim to stand in one place long enough for anyone to observe anything other than how the green ribbon brings out the gold in my eyes and hair."

  She continued, fluttering to another topic with the ease of a butterfly in a garden. "You are too content observing others. You do not accept all the invitations extended to you. If it were me, I would go out every night." Lydia pointed to the desk. "Those pages are filled with passion, and yet you resist showing your true character to anyone."

  For good reason, thought Georgiana. Aloud, she said sarcastically, "You know how well that worked out last time."

  Rolling her eyes, Lydia said, "You can hardly compare yourself to the naïve child you were. Even I briefly fell under the spell of George Wickham's charm. Thank goodness he was murdered before I did something so foolish as elope with him!"

  "How fortunate you were," Georgiana said dryly.

  "Indeed, I am! He was deliciously handsome, but he had neither fortune nor title. We would not have been happy for long. But that is not the point. You are much smarter than I am. And if I have managed three whole seasons without ruining myself, then you can too. You must learn to trust yourself more." Lydia squeezed Georgiana's hand, her eyes brimming with earnestness. It was her most ser
ious expression, and Georgiana suppressed her smile lest she spoil one of the few moments when her dear friend showed concern for someone other than herself.

  Chloe wedged her nose between their hands.

  "Sometimes you are very wise, Lydia." Georgiana squeezed her hand and smoothed Chloe's fur.

  Lydia huffed. "It must be your association. It has never been my inclination to seek wisdom when there is pleasure to be had." She gasped, startling Georgiana once again. "I nearly forgot!" Lydia exclaimed, pulling out an envelope and handing it to Georgiana.

  Guilt spread through Georgiana when she saw the name on the envelope.

  "What are you going to do when he wants more?" Lydia asked, soothing Chloe with her caress.

  The question kept Georgiana awake at night. "After this, I have nothing more to give." She opened the letter, her hand dropping to her lap after she had read the lines.

  It contained exactly what she dreaded. He wanted more. Georgiana would have to put an end to it. Perhaps it was for the best. William despised secrets. If he found out…. Georgiana shivered.

  Lydia peeked at her through narrowed eyes. "You still have not told Darcy, have you?"

  Georgiana chewed on her lip.

  "It only gets harder to speak up the longer you remain quiet," Lydia added.

  Wise words, indeed. It had not started out as a secret. More like a joke that grew and grew until it became serious.

  "William will see my secrecy as a betrayal of his trust. Again. He will be ashamed of my impropriety." Oh, why did she always get into these scrapes? Would she never learn?