Men of Consequence

by Francine Rainey

  Elizabeth turned from the window and sighed from the memory. It was a lovely day, and she would dance with the morning sun in the Darcys’ beautiful garden.

  After her time in the sun, Elizabeth entered the breakfast room and inhaled the delicious aroma emanating from the abundant spread.

  “Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth smiled.

  Darcy lowered his paper, rose, and bowed. “Good morning, Miss Bennet. You are chipper this morning. I trust that you slept well?”

  “Yes, I did sleep well, thank you. But how do you know that I am not chipper every morning, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth glanced sideways and grinned, her eyes bright, her face warmed by the sun. And just that quickly, Darcy was weak again, her captive, bound to her by this desperate love.

  Darcy stilled and stared, unable, or perhaps unwilling to look at anything else but her. Elizabeth cleared her throat and turned to fill her plate. The connection broken, Darcy remembered himself and shook his head, “I am sure you are chipper every morning, Miss Bennet. I have rarely met one as amiable as you.”

  “Have you met my sister, Mr. Darcy? You know, Jane Bingley?” She raised a brow and Darcy chuckled, something he seemed to do often around Elizabeth.

  “Point taken, Miss Bennet.”

  Returning to the food, Elizabeth closed her eyes and breathed. “I shall never want to leave if Cook keeps plying us with such offerings.”

  Darcy watched as Elizabeth made her selections. As she sat, Darcy fished his brain for something to say, but as usual in her presence, nearly all he could do was feel and try to control his reactions. Not wanting to be caught staring again, Darcy picked up his discarded newspaper.

  “Any news on Bony?” Elizabeth inquired.

  Darcy lowered the paper, “You are interested in the war, Miss Bennet?”

  “Certainly, it affects us poor females as well as others, does it not?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I read the news frequently, and my father and I discuss it. It is not always pleasant, but it is best to be aware that there is something more than balls and tea parties; do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?”

  “I do agree, Miss Bennet.” Those sapphire blue eyes, fringed with long black lashes, focused upon her for a long time. Elizabeth flushed and looked away. Darcy cleared his throat. “Shall I read a bit of the news?”

  “Yes! Please.”

  “Very well.” Darcy read, and a spirited discussion began. Darcy marveled at Elizabeth’s intelligence. While Elizabeth marveled at Darcy’s willingness to consider her opinions. When breakfast was finished, Darcy looked at her intensely and spoke softly. “I enjoyed our discussion, Miss Bennet.” Something about his closeness and the way he said her name, almost reverently, caused Elizabeth to gasp lightly, and it set her face aflame. Elizabeth smiled, curtsied, and walked stiffly from the room to keep herself from running. After she left, Darcy heaved a great sigh and turned to stare from the window.

  The next two days were crammed with activity as Georgiana seemed to desire to fill Elizabeth’s every waking hour. This morning, however, Georgiana was with her music master and Elizabeth, though adoring her new friend, was happy for a few moments alone. Dressed in a pale green muslin with a fitted bodice that enhanced her eyes as well as her light and pleasing figure, Elizabeth headed toward the library. Traveling through the gleaming halls of Darcy House, Elizabeth trailed her finger along the textured walls and stared up at the beautifully carved moldings. It was an amazing home, taste and elegance in every corner.

  “Oh, pardon me, ma’am,” so engrossed in her admiration that Elizabeth had nearly bowled over a maid who bobbed an embarrassed curtsey before turning to speed away.

  “Not at all,” Elizabeth answered, “I was not attending. Please,” Elizabeth hurried before the efficient maid darted to her next task, “do you know where I might find Mrs. Pennington?

  “I dunno, ma’am, but I could send a footman for her.”

  Elizabeth glanced at the supplies the maid carried and smiled, “Do not trouble yourself.”

  “No trouble, ma’am. The master wants us to take particular care of you,” the maid stated as she bobbed another quick curtsy and hurried down the corridor.

  Having stalled at the maid’s words, Elizabeth shook her head and continued to the library. Once there, Elizabeth opened the heavy double doors and breathed deeply. It was a magnificent room. Large and two-storied, with floor to ceiling bookcases that were offset by massive windows that admitted the light and made the room feel light and airy despite the many and massive wood shelves. There were several furniture groups with soft leather chairs and upholstered couches. The shelves were stuffed with books, and Elizabeth wanted to absorb all the knowledge in them. She giggled. If her mother knew that she was in the home of a rich, handsome bachelor but spending her time in the library, she would faint dead away. Elizabeth shook her head as she thought back to a conversation that happened when her mother caught her attempting to avoid needlepoint lessons by hiding beneath her father’s desk and reading a book much more advanced than her eight years.

  “There you are, child! Come out at once! Oh, what you do to my nerves!” Mrs. Bennet waved her handkerchief.

  Elizabeth climbed slowly out from beneath her father’s desk, and in her haste, forgot to leave the book she had been reading.

  “What are you reading, child? Look at you. What shall become of you, missy, nose always in a book. You will catch no husband that way. You shall be like that, that, um, Princess of the Blues, and who will have you then?”

  Just then, her papa had walked into the room, assessed the scene, and smiled.

  Looking at Elizabeth’s deep pout, an amused Mr. Bennet bent low and said, “Found your hideout did she, Lizzy?”

  “Yes, Papa,” Lizzy answered as she followed her mother to the door. Turning suddenly, she asked, “Papa, what tis the Princess of the Blues?”

  “What, child?

  “Mama said I would be the Princess of the Blues and would not catch a husband. What tis a Princess of the Blues?”

  Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I believe she meant, ‘Queen of the Blues’ and that is the title given to Elizabeth Montagu, who created the Blue Stocking Society where literary women discuss things.”

  “Yes, Mr. Bennet!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Her name is Elizabeth, too! Whatever shall we do?”

  “Why, they share a name. The die has been cast; whatever can we do now, dearest?”

  “Mr. Bennet! How you vex me!

  Elizabeth chuckled, made her selection, and chose a comfortable leather chair, optimally situated to the light, and lost herself in the written word.

  “Miss Bennet,” Elizabeth jumped and looked doe-eyed at the motherly housekeeper.

  “Forgive me for startling you, but Amy said you wished to speak with me.”

  Elizabeth exhaled with her hands upon her chest. “Do not apologize, Mrs. Pennington. It seems I was lost in Gulliver’s Travels,” Elizabeth laughed.

  “Quite understandable, I have seen the master do so many times. Now, tell me, what may I do for you?” Mrs. Pennington’s eyes crinkled softly when she smiled.

  “I do not wish to be presumptuous, but it is soon to be Miss Georgiana’s birthday, and I would like to give her a gift. I saw a beautiful music box that plays a song that Georgiana told me was one of Mrs. Darcy’s favorites. Do you think this would be an appropriate gift? I know she is very sensitive about her mother,” Elizabeth grimaced.

  “Yes, Miss, I think it would be a perfect gift, and one that Miss Georgiana will cherish,” Mrs. Pennington smiled.

  Elizabeth sighed.

  “When should you like to go?”

  “I thought next week when Georgiana’s art master comes.”

  “Splendid! I will arrange for the carriage and a maid to attend you.”

  “Mrs. Pennington, please do not go to such trouble. I will have a footman hail a hackney. It is not very far.”

  “Miss Benne
t, you are a guest here, and under Master Darcy’s protection, you cannot mean to believe that he would allow you to ride around London unattended. No, Miss, that will not do. I shall arrange for the carriage.”

  “Mrs. Pennington, I do not wish to prevail any more than I have upon the Darcys’ hospitality. They have been so gracious already. I am sure a hackney will do fine.”

  Mrs. Pennington just smiled, “Will that be all, Miss?”

  “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Pennington.”

  “You are welcome, Miss.”

  Mrs. Pennington smiled as she departed. She shut the door and stood for a moment looking down the corridor but not really seeing. You have done well, young master. You cannot fool me, she is not only Georgiana’s special friend, but I think you would like her to be yours as well, and I shall not censure your choice. She is kind and with a strong character, and she makes you and Miss Georgiana laugh! She may be exactly what you need to bring joy back into your life. Your dear Mama would have been so pleased. All she wanted was for you to be happy. Mrs. Pennington walked to her study misty-eyed, her steps as light and as quick as a maiden’s.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elizabeth stepped quickly down the corridor. She had slept soundly again, and now it was later than her usual hour to rise. She encountered Mrs. Pennington, and the two greeted one another warmly. Elizabeth had expected Darcy’s servants to be efficient, but she was impressed by their cheerfulness. It was not at all what she would have anticipated for the stuffy Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth immediately chastened herself for such uncharitable thoughts; it was becoming clear that Mr. Darcy’s character was more complex than she had supposed. He was a loving brother, a good friend, and apparently a good master; however, Mr. Darcy still puzzled her. He was enigmatic and mysterious. As steady, level-headed, and dutiful as Lance, and always the picture of refinement; however, he was unable to completely hide the intensity, determination, and intrigue that one sensed behind that unwavering stare – like Saye. Elizabeth shook her head; she would not solve the Darcy dilemma today.

  Elizabeth made her way to the breakfast room; the aromas of freshly baked bread and coffee made her stomach rumble. Anticipating another excellent meal, Elizabeth entered quickly and right into the chest of Darcy.

  “Oh!” Elizabeth stopped.

  “Miss Bennet!” Darcy grabbed Elizabeth’s elbows.

  Frozen in this near embrace, Elizabeth looked up at Darcy, breathless. She had never been this close to him before. He was tall and solid, but his hands were gentle, and she was arrested by those hauntingly beautiful, sapphire blue eyes that seemed to demand answers to questions she did not want to entertain.

  Elizabeth could not move as Darcy stared and lowered his head slightly, then blinked, released her elbows, and stepped away. “My apologies,” he bowed. “I did not see you there,” he said, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat and smoothed her dress, “No harm done, Mr. Darcy. I trust you are well this morning?”

  “Yes, exceedingly. And you, Miss Bennet, I trust you are well and that you slept well, as well.” Darcy grimaced at the inelegant reply.

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy, only one consumed with trouble could manage to sleep poorly in this wonderful place,” she smiled.

  Darcy’s chest expanded, “I am glad to hear it. Please, sit, and allow me to fill your plate.”

  “Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Darcy; I will not keep you from where you were headed.”

  Darcy cleared his throat. “Not at all, Miss Bennet, I find that my business can be postponed. Please be seated,” Darcy pulled out her chair and smiled that captivating, half smile.

  “Well, if you are certain.”

  “I insist.” Elizabeth took her seat, glancing up at Darcy as he pushed the chair lightly beneath her; he lingered a moment, closed his eyes and inhaled.

  He had not been leaving when he collided with Elizabeth. He had been anticipating that she would arrive early as she usually did. When she did not come when expected, he had risen like an impatient adolescent to see if he could get a glimpse of her. However, now that she was here, he was not about to leave, even if his dignity had to suffer from the poor excuse he had offered for staying.

  “What is your pleasure, madam?” Darcy bowed playfully.

  Elizabeth laughed and called out her preferences. Darcy brought her filled plate and bowed again. Seated across from her, Darcy watched as Elizabeth bit into the Chelsea bun and closed her eyes, “Mmm, how delicious.”

  Darcy swallowed, averted his eyes, and reached for his coffee. Staring intently into the brown liquid, Darcy fought in vain to keep his eyes from sliding back to watch Elizabeth take another bite. Elizabeth bit into the bun again, and unconsciously repeated her previous, “Mmm.”

  Darcy slammed his cup down, sloshing liquid onto the saucer. If she did that one more time, Darcy was sure he would explode. Elizabeth glanced up at the noise, but seeing naught amiss, she returned to savoring her food.

  “I see you remain an early riser, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said, speaking faster than usual.

  Elizabeth wiped her mouth, “Yes. I find I arise early even after a ball. It seems the sun always desires my company,” she smiled. “And you, sir? It seems I noticed the same tendency at Netherfield?”

  “Yes, since I was a lad. My father believed in being a part of the rhythms of the estate. I routinely accompanied him on his morning inspections. Even here, in London, I cannot adjust to town hours.”

  Darcy’s face relaxed as he spoke of Pemberley, and Elizabeth found herself smiling in response. “An admirable principle, sir. Tell me more of Pemberley; is it as perfect as Miss Bingley says?” Elizabeth asked, giving Darcy an adorable sidelong glance that made him want to kiss her.

  Darcy smiled, “Nothing is perfect no matter what Miss Bingley says.” Looking up, he saw that a raised eyebrow had joined Elizabeth’s impish smile. Darcy chuckled, presuming that Elizabeth remembered that Caroline had applied the same characteristic to him, he chuckled, “Not even me.” Elizabeth giggled, and Darcy’s eyes softened as he watched her. “What?” he said, “you do not agree with Miss Bingley, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked with a stern voice but flattening his lips to contain his laughter.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened until she noticed Darcy’s attempts to stem his merriment. “No, Mr. Darcy! You shall not ensnare me in your trap and force me to be impolitic! For if I say that I agree with Miss Bingley, who has declared you perfect, then I must disagree with you, for you have declared yourself imperfect!” Elizabeth was bubbling with humor and mischievousness and Darcy felt as carefree as a lad galloping alone on his horse for the first time, untethered from duty and full of wonder.

  Chuckling softly, Darcy bowed his head in defeat, “You are correct, Miss Bennet.” Darcy paused a moment and then asked, “but dare I hope you agree with Miss Bingley?” Darcy raised his brow and smiled.

  Elizabeth took another bite and chewed while Darcy waited and watched, his eyes soft. Then clearing her throat and reaching for her glass, she said with the rim to her lips, “One may always hope, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy laughed outright, and Elizabeth joined him. As the laughter died, they gazed at each other. Finally, Elizabeth flushed and looked away. Clearing her throat, she asked, “But truly, Mr. Darcy, tell me of Pemberley.”

  Darcy blinked, “Ah, yes, of course. Pemberley has been in my family for many generations. It is a large estate. The park is ten miles around, and there are many acres of woods for walking and hunting. A stream runs through it that was the source of much pleasure as a boy. But it is more importantly home to excellent people, and I hope an excellent place for those who benefit from the land,” Darcy answered and looked down, hoping he did not sound boastful.

  Elizabeth smiled, absorbing the fact that Darcy did not once mention the grandness of his house, nor the number of chimneys, nor the cost of the glazing; instead, he had focused upon its natural beauty and of its benefits to his
tenants. “It sounds delightful.”

  “I should like you to see it someday,” Darcy spoke into his cup just before he sipped his coffee.

  Elizabeth glanced up quickly into Darcy’s intense, relentless gaze and froze, a fork full of eggs suspended in the air. Darcy held her gaze, both breathing harder, both incapable of breaking the connection.

  “There you are, Elizabeth!” Elizabeth jumped as Georgiana’s happy voice cut through the tension in the room. “I was hoping to break my fast with you! Oh! You are here, too, Brother! How fortunate that I arrived when I did!”

  Both occupants greeted Georgiana so cheerfully that a more discerning one may have wondered at the reason; however, Georgiana, just pleased to be with them, did not notice. Darcy rose and settled his sister into her chair. “Will it be ham, eggs, apple tarts, and chocolate today, Sweetling?”

  “Yes, Brother. How did you know?” Georgiana smiled happily at him.

  Darcy found it sweet that Georgiana did not realize that those were the options she chose each time they were offered, prompting Cook to ensure they were frequently available. Darcy smiled and winked at Elizabeth, then placed his hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Am I not a doting brother, Sweetling?”

  Georgiana gasped and turned to him with large eyes. “Of course, Brother, I did not mean… Fitzwilliam! You tease me!” Georgiana cried as she watched Darcy’s wounded look transform into a smile.

  “Of course, I tease you, Sweetling. You pick those options each time they are available.”

  “Am I so boring, Brother?”

  “Not at all, excellent taste requires no addition,” he winked at her.

  Georgiana giggled and turned to Elizabeth who had watched the playful, loving exchange with wide eyes and teacup suspended between the saucer and her lips.