The Darcy Code

The

Darcy Code

Elizabeth Aston

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author' imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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THE DARCY CODE

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Copyright © 2012 by Elizabeth Aston

http://www.elizabeth-edmondson.com/edmondson/

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

Other Books By Author

Writing as Elizabeth Aston

Darcy Novels
:

Mr. Darcy's Daughters

The Exploits and Adventures of Miss Alethea Darcy

The True Darcy Spirit

The Second Mr. Darcy

The Darcy Connection

Mr. Darcy's Dream

Writing Jane Austen

The Mountjoy Novels
:

The Word, the Flesh and the Bishop

Unholy Harmonies

Volcanic Airs

Unaccustomed Spirits

Brotherly Love

Children of Chance

Short Stories
:

The Darcy Code

Mr. Darcy's Christmas

Writing as Elizabeth Edmondson

The Devil's Sonata

The Frozen
Lake

Voyage of Innocence

The Villa Dante

The Art of Love

Night and Day (coming soon)

Black Coffee (coming soon)

Fencing with Death (coming soon)

The Darcy Code

Miss Anna Gosforth longed for love. She longed to fall in love and to marry before the end of this, her first
London
season. After all, she was already nineteen and had been obliged to wait, languishing in the country until her older sister, Sarah, found herself a husband. How ashamed she would be to finish this year without a husband in view.

So far, she was having a wonderful time, revelling in the balls, the soirées, the routs, the outings. It was delightful to go with her mother to all the most fashionable modistes and milliners and thrilling to have so many new clothes; walking dresses and carriage dresses, muslins for parties, satin and gauze for balls. She had an elegant new riding habit, hats for every occasion and all the fripperies essential to her well-being.

Thank goodness the years of careful upbringing, with a strict governess and an all-too-quiet life in the country, were over. She had dutifully acquired the requisite accomplishments: she could play the piano and sing, she could speak some French and knew some Italian, she could locate most countries on the globe, and could set stitches to sew a sampler or hem a handkerchief.

But now she was out of the schoolroom; her governess was at home in Northamptonshire, exerting her power over two younger sisters, and since Mama was chiefly concerned with Sarah's approaching nuptials, she made no effort to insist on music practice or an hour or two with a French grammar.

For the first time in her life, Anna's natural liveliness and sparkle and sense of fun was not frowned upon. She could be as merry as she liked, and laugh and flirt and only the most prim-faced matrons disapproved, and what did she care for them. Away with such stuffiness.

Mama did her duty as far as chaperoning her to balls and all the other parties, but Anna was happy that she did not keep quite such a close eye on her as she had done with Sarah.

Anna thought nothing of Sarah's betrothed, "He is so pompous and so solemn," she said to her best friend, Henrietta. "And Sarah will soon be just as dull as he is."

"Then they are well-suited."

"Oh, it maddens me to see how Sarah behaves with him. She is serious-minded, as least that is what Papa calls it, and she is convinced that as a married woman, she must accept her husband's opinions on everything." Anna might not have much worldly wisdom, but she couldn't help feeling that this wasn't going to be the basis for a good marriage. "Besides, I have every reason to dislike him, I overheard him say to Sarah what an empty-headed and frivolous creature I am."

Not that Anna cared a button for what either Sarah or her betrothed thought of her, not now that she had, at last, fallen in love.

She first saw Mr. Standish at the theatre. He was in a box a little way along from the one she was in, and she noticed him as he stood up and moved aside to let another member of his party come forward. She couldn't take her eyes off him, and while fluttering her fan to try and hide the fact that her gaze was fixed on him, she whispered to Henrietta, who was sitting next to her, "Who is that man in the box there, the tall one?"

"You mean the quiz with the red hair? That is Richard Freeling, they say he has the best manners of anyone in
England
, but he is an ugly fellow."

"Red hair? Ugly? Oh, no, not that box, the next one along."

Henrietta laughed. "Haven't you met him? That's Mr. Standish, said to be the handsomest man in
England
."

"Is he married?"

"Oh, oh, in ten seconds your mind has turned from a first sighting to marriage?"

Annoyed, Anna scowled at Henrietta, she didn't care to be made fun of upon such a subject. "Do you know him?"

"I have met him, and I had a friend, Miss Amelia Norton, the loveliest creature on earth, who was very much in love with him, but nothing came of it and she was distraught. She was ill, oh, such sighs and misery, her sufferings were truly severe. In the end her parents had to send her away, to recuperate in the country."

"What a sad story," Anna said, though rejoicing that this affair had come to nothing. "What became of her?” she went on, more to conceal the intense interest aroused in her by Mr. Standish than because she gave a jot about a Miss Amelia Anybody.

"It all ended happily, because while Amelia was rusticating she met a local squire, quite a bumpkin, but a rich one, and she married him and now has two children."

How could anyone who had been in love with this entrancing man possibly have settled for such as second-best as a country squire, however rich? It was best not to say this, however and Henrietta was at last telling her what she wanted to hear.

"So, my dearest Anna, to answer your question, no, Mr. Standish is not married, nor indeed do I think is he engaged or indeed attached to any lady in particular. He has been abroad, you know and I dare say has had some merriment with the ladies, but he has not come back with some lustrous beauty from foreign parts, or I would have heard about it."

Anna had sufficient pride not to ask any more, and she must try not to look too often to the other box. She was helped in this by the fact that a few minutes later the man withdrew and, how disappointing, didn't reappear before the end of the performance. At the end, when they were downstairs waiting for their carriage to come Anna looked around, hoping that she might see him again, but there was no sign of him. and at least she was spared Henrietta' jibes, for Henrietta had her eye on a beau of her own who was there, and so had no time to notice what Anna was up to.

To her joy, Anna was introduced to Mr. Standish within the week. She confided to Henrietta, "It is as though it was meant and arranged by
Providence
, for I set eyes upon him, and then just a few days later there he is."

She had met him at quite an intimate party, the kind of gathering that she had only gone to with reluctance. A cousin of her mother's was giving a small dinner party, and no, Mama said, it was unlikely there would be dancing afterwards. This was promising to be an evening of infinite tedium, but Mama insisted she go, "For you have not seen Cousin Maria in an age, and she has requested that you go with us."

Anna remembered her cousin Mrs. Rufforth all too well, a woman of quite forty or so, with a sharp eye and a sharper tongue. But, as it turned out, she had reason to be grateful for the invitation and was glad that she had been thus summoned.

True, there was no dancing, and the people were amazingly dull, talking about all kinds of things for which she cared nothing, serious books and Italian sculpture and the situation in
France
and the events in some German state. She would have yawned away the time had it not been that Mr. Standish was there. He arrived late, just as the company was going into dinner. Anna couldn't believe her good fortune as he bowed over Mrs. Rufforth's hand, murmuring his apologies.

He was seated further along from her at dinner, on the same side of the table, so she couldn't watch him, and she longed for the meal to be over. Surely afterwards, when the men had finished in the dining room, he would join them in the drawing room and she might be introduced.

The time between the ladies leaving the table and the gentlemen arriving seemed interminable, made longer by the only other young lady of the company entertaining them with a performance of a long and dreary sonata upon the pianoforte.

At last, the door opened, the gentlemen came in. Mr. Standish stood beside his hostess, and then, with a gleam in her eye that Anna mistrusted, Mrs. Rufforth brought him over to where she was sitting on a small sofa.

"Anna, my dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Standish. Miss Anna Gosforth is a cousin of mine, Mr. Standish, thoroughly bored by the conversation this evening" – she had noticed, horrid woman with her keen eyes – "so you may entertain her with some more amusing talk."

He laughed, and Anna, furious with herself for blushing, also laughed, and then Mrs. Rufforth moved away and he sat down beside her, setting her heart beating so that she thought he must hear it.

"Tell me, this is your first season, is it not, Miss Anna? I am sure I would have met you otherwise, for although I have been much abroad, I was in
London
last spring. How do you like
London
life?"

"I like it a great deal, there are so many interesting parties to go to and things to see and do. I don't know how I ever filled the day before, but now every hour is crammed with some scheme or pleasure."

He laughed at that. "Are you a reader? My sister is always pleased to be in
London
where she can borrow so many books from circulating libraries."

Anna said, "I love novels, but not serious books such as everyone here is talking about."

"Ah, Mrs. Rufforth always gathers high-minded people about her, she is famous for it."

Anna noticed that a tall, dark man standing by the fireplace, a little aloof from the company, was watching them, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Why does that gentleman stare at us so? I did not catch his name, who may he be?"

"I will introduce you if you like, that is Mr. Vere. A rising man in government circles, he is destined for a distinguished career. I do not believe he stares, he is just wondering how I come to be so fortunate as to be seated by the prettiest girl in the room."

Anna was enchanted by the compliment, but said, "Oh, no, pray do not do any such thing. I merely wondered who he was, with that intense look. He seems extremely clever and I'm sure I would have nothing to say to him."

From the other side of the room, Vere watched Mr. Standish with sardonic amusement. He had asked Standish to bring him to this gathering, not because he particularly wished to join in the conversation, but because he knew that a certain man he wanted to meet, the Comte de Saint-Valèry,

was likely to be there. At this kind of gathering it would occasion no comment if he spoke to the man, whereas in other circumstances to meet him or engage in conversation with him might attract unwelcome attention.

The Comte was an émigré who had escaped from
France
and the guillotine by the skin of his teeth. He was fiercely opposed to Napoleon, and had managed since his arrival in
England
to keep in contact with many people in
France
, so that Vere's chief, Mr. Darcy, now head of the Alien Office and in charge of Intelligence, considered
he was a man worth cultivating.

"He will do nothing to betray his country, but anything he can to bring down Bonaparte," he told Vere. "I do not need to warn you to take care of how and where you speak, you know that Napoleon has eyes and ears everywhere in
London
. Even, I fear, among those of who work in this department." He sighed, but said no more about it, merely telling Vere to report back as soon as he could.

Vere and the comte had met, exchanged words, and then moved apart, each of them with a professional air of disengagement is as though there had been nothing important or serious in what they were saying. But Vere had gained some interesting and valuable information about the situation in
Paris
.

"There are rumours," Saint-Valery said before he drew away, "that the First Consul, the odious Bonaparte, intends some new mischief at the point where war is declared again. I do not know just what he plans, but it will some devilish scheme you may be sure."

Vere turned this over in his mind and wondered if he might slip away. No, it was too soon, he must make some effort with other people so that his meeting with the comte was not in any way conspicuous. He looked over to the sofa, where Standish was sitting, still flirting with that young woman. Trust him to have picked out the prettiest girl in the room; my word, she was making eyes at him, charming eyes too, big and dark and full of life. It was time that Standish found himself a bride, but not a Miss like this, for all her fetching ways. He needed a wife of intelligence who could be of use to him as he climbed up the political ladder. A lovely wife was an asset in some circumstances, but there needed to be shrewdness and intelligence in any woman who was going to be a successful political wife. This young lady did not look likely to fit that description.

Mrs. Rufforth beckoned to him.

"You have that look in your eye that tells me you are planning to leave. What is so urgent that calls you away? The evening is young."

"I have another engagement," Vere said.

Mrs. Rufforth was having none of this and she rapped his knuckles with her fan. "Mr. Vere, all this is nonsense. You have not enjoyed yourself, nor the company. And I see where you were looking, confess: you are annoyed that Mr. Standish is monopolizing the prettiest girl in the room,"

Vere laughed, "She is not my style at all, my dear Maria, you know that."

"No, indeed, she is a little butterfly that one, but there are plenty of other people here worth your speaking to."

"I believe not. And besides, I have another engagement."

Mrs. Rufforth turned to her husband, a thin man with a long nose and a melancholy expression, and said, "It is always the same with Mr. Vere, I'm sure he came here with a particular purpose and not simply to enjoy my food and wine and the company."