The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy (10 page)

As Mrs. Hill had predicted, Mrs. Forster was soon experiencing not only morning sickness but also afternoon sickness and evening sickness, and it was not sitting well with Lydia. She was tired of holding her friend’s hand, soothing her brow, and fetching her broth. Even the weather was conspiring against her as it rained nearly every day. She wanted to go out to the shops and to go dancing and to forget about the ailing Mrs. Forster, but Colonel Forster was making that difficult because he kept thanking Lydia for being such a faithful friend to his wife.

Faithful friend or not, after a week of reading to Mrs. Forster, Lydia had had enough, and the complaints began. Lydia griped to Mrs. Forster, and Mrs. Forster grumbled to the colonel.

“I invited Lydia to come to Brighton because she was my most particular friend, but it seems my condition has proved to be an inconvenience to her. She goes on and on about the weather as if I had some control over how many rainy days we have had since our arrival. Yesterday, when the rain stopped, she grabbed her cloak, and without so much as a by your leave, was out the door and off to the shops. She had given me warning that she would do just that, but even so, I thought it very rude when she actually did it.”

It was at times like this that Colonel Forster wondered why he had given up the benefits of bachelorhood to marry a woman who was half his age and in need of constant entertainment.

“Harriet, my dear, I have been told by Mrs. Miller, who knows a lot about these things, that the discomfort you are currently experiencing will pass. In the meantime, why should Miss Lydia not go out to these evening events, which you cannot enjoy at this particular time, especially since you retire so early?”

“I think Lydia should go home. If she does not wish to provide some comfort to her friend, why should she stay here?”

“I cannot agree to that,” Colonel Forster said emphatically. “It was you who insisted that Miss Lydia come for at least six weeks, and it is not even a full month yet. We must keep to our original agreement, but I will speak to our guest and see if a compromise can be reached.”

There
was
a compromise. Lydia promised Harriet that she would spend each afternoon with her; in return, Lydia would be allowed to go to the evening entertainments. As a result, once again, Mrs. Forster and her particular friend became as close as sisters. Each day, some amusement was arranged for Lydia and Harriet. One afternoon, the regiment’s piper came and played tunes; the next day, the two ladies laughed and giggled while they and their friends played at charades; and on the third day, two officers came to join them in a game of casino. One was a Lieutenant Edgar Fuller, and the other, Lieutenant George Wickham.

The request to attend Mrs. Forster’s card parties had not come as a complete surprise to Wickham. Two weeks earlier, Lieutenant Fuller and he had encountered the colonel’s wife coming out of a stationery store on King’s Road accompanied by Lydia Bennet, who Wickham knew to be a hopeless flirt. While in Meryton, he had paid her scant attention because of her age and her inability to hold a thought in her head for more than one minute. He much preferred her older sister, Elizabeth, who was not only very pretty but who also displayed a gift for repartee that he enjoyed. Verbal fencing was often a prelude to sex.

When his engagement with Mary King came to nothing because her family had whisked her off to Liverpool, Wickham attempted to resurrect his friendship with Miss Elizabeth, but his reception had been cool at best. When he learned that she had visited with Mr. Darcy in Kent, he understood the reason for her indifference. Darcy had obviously shared the story of his attempted elopement with Georgiana Darcy, and with that, any hope of an affair with the dark-eyed beauty evaporated.

When Captain Wilcox came into the officers’ mess to tell Wickham and Fuller of their new assignment, he found them slumped in their chairs discussing how their poverty had forced them into a profession they both despised.

“I have a change of duty for you two,” Captain Wilcox said. “Oh, don’t look alarmed. It seems Colonel Forster’s wife is bored and is in need of entertainment. Apparently, you became acquainted with the lady while the militia was encamped in Meryton. You must have put on a good show because you were asked for by name. All you two reprobates have to do is play cards with Mrs. Forster and her guests. It also serves the purpose of keeping both of you away from the gaming tables. It is no secret that each of you has debts of honor to settle. This will put you out of range of the other officers for a few days. They will not dare approach you while you are amusing the colonel’s missus.”

The captain started to leave but then returned. “A word of caution, Wickham. You’re a handsome bugger, and I’ve seen you at work. You are to use your talents with the ladies only insofar as to flatter and flirt. You are to have no contact with any guest of the colonel outside of the colonel’s residence. Keep your cock in your breeches. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Perfectly clear,” Wickham said, smiling.

After the captain had left, Fuller let out his anger. “We should have told him to bugger off. The colonel knobs his wife, and we’re supposed to amuse her?”

“Don’t be an imbecile, Fuller. All that is required is that we play cards with Mrs. Forster and her friends. In return, we dine at their expense, drink Madeira, sit by a warm fire, and ingratiate ourselves with the colonel. Mrs. Forster is pleasant to look at, and if her guests are equally attractive, then it will be an improvement over the ugly mugs we have to look at around here.”

Wickham was willing to do anything that would free him from the endless maneuvers and parades he had endured since arriving in Brighton. And although Lydia Bennet was wholly incapable of offering Wickham the intellectual stimulation he enjoyed, the lady had other attractions to offer, and he might be the very one who could convince her to share them.

As the travelers set out for Derbyshire, Lizzy was determined to ban all thoughts of Mr. Darcy from her mind. It was not in her nature to brood, and she had been doing too much of it since her return from Kent. As the trio traveled north, they visited the university town of Oxford, Warwick Castle, Coventry Cathedral, Blenheim, and Kenilworth. By the time they arrived at Lambton, Lizzy had grown tired of anything that could be described as “great.” Once they had settled into their rooms at the inn, Lizzy confessed to her aunt and uncle that she was weary of visiting the manor houses of England’s aristocracy. After spending the previous day touring Kenilworth Castle and its grounds, Mr. Gardiner had come to the same conclusion. It was not the manor houses of these vast estates that beckoned him, but their stocked lakes and coursing streams. He wanted to dip a fishing rod into some body of water, any body of water, and be free of another day spent riding in the carriage.

“After visiting so many houses with their fine carpets and satin curtains and great paintings and enormous fireplaces, I am looking forward to rocks and mountains and listening to rushing streams. I eagerly await our excursion to the Peak,” Lizzy continued.

“But surely you are interested in seeing Pemberley, a place you have heard so much about, and it is not more than five miles from Lambton.” When Aunt Gardiner received no response, she added, “George Wickham passed most of his youth there.”

The last name she wanted to hear was George Wickham. What sort of man would seduce any sixteen-year-old, but most especially the daughter of a man who had provided him with an education and a living and whom he had declared to be “the best of men?” She could hardly bear to think of what he had cost her.

“But Uncle has said that it is not in our direct route and have we not seen every style of house, Tudor, Elizabethan, Jacobean, and Georgian, and they all have beautiful china and fine furnishings and portraits of five generations of Lord and Lady We Are So Very Rich?”

“If it were merely a fine house richly furnished, I should not care about it myself; but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country.”

“And some of the finest trout streams, too,” her uncle added enthusiastically. “The Darcy estate is mentioned in Walton’s
The Compleat Angler
.”

Lizzy knew she was being unfair. Her uncle had been so patient, and despite his lack of interest in the furnishings and collections of these great estates, he had followed his wife and niece about as they toured the manor houses and gardens. In return, all he asked was for one day of fishing. And then there was Aunt Gardiner, who had grown up very near to Lambton. It was only natural she would want to spend time in a village that had been such a large part of her childhood. The mere mention of the Pemberley estate had brought on a stream of reminiscences.

“Every year, during harvest time, the church bells would ring, summoning the farmers to their fields. At the start of the harvest, the local council would appoint one of the most respected men in the village and name him as Lord of the Harvest, a great honor. When the harvest was complete, the horse bringing in the last cartload of grain would be festooned with garlands and ribbons and bells, and as a child, I would run alongside of it.

“There was a tradition that Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne would host a harvest feast. Each table had a goose stuffed with apples, and as I recall, other fruits and vegetables and breads were served with a mild ale. While the guests ate, Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne as well as their son, the current lord of the manor, would walk among the guests and inquire after their families. When the dinner ended, the musicians would strike up a tune, and the dancing would begin. My mother would take my brothers and me back to the house, but we would lie awake listening to the music and laughter coming from the feast long after we had been put to bed.”

After seeing how much pleasure her aunt’s memories brought her, Lizzy gave up the idea of avoiding Pemberley.

“
If
the family is not at home, I shall gladly go to see Pemberley.” And after having agreed to the excursion, Lizzy went to her trunk and took out a letter from Miss Anne de Bourgh. “Lady Catherine’s daughter, Anne, is a favorite of the Darcy family as she is their cousin. I had the pleasure of visiting with her when I was in Kent. When I wrote to her that we might be traveling very near to Pemberley, she told me that I should apply to the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, and to mention her name to ensure admittance. She said the estate is closed on Sundays and Mondays, but is open every other day of the week.”

“Well, we have arrived at exactly the right time,” Aunt Gardiner said. “The day after tomorrow is Monday, and we will make inquiries as to the best trout streams in Derbyshire and visit the Peak,” she said, looking fondly at her husband, “and on Wednesday, we will make arrangements to tour Pemberley.”

“
After
inquiring if the family is at home,” Lizzy insisted.

“Elizabeth, you are overly concerned about the family being in residence. The Darcys have had visitors touring their house for generations. We could very well be viewing their art collection and at the same time have one of the Darcys walk right by us. It would be as if we were invisible to them; they are so used to it.”

When informed by the chambermaid that the family was not at home, Lizzy finally agreed to tour Pemberley. Much to her aunt and uncle’s surprise, Lizzy went from not wanting to visit Pemberley at all to eagerly anticipating the event. Mr. Gardiner, not being of a suspicious nature, attributed his niece’s change of mind to the whimsical ways of women, but Mrs. Gardiner was beginning to suspect something else entirely.

Darcy was waiting for his sister to come to the breakfast room. He was still annoyed with her for the comment she had made to Anne regarding Aunt Catherine. He understood his aunt could be trying at the best of times, but he also knew she had played an important role in his mother’s life—something Georgiana did not understand.

When Aunt Catherine was eleven years old, her mother had died, and her father, Lord Fitzwilliam, had remarried a year later. Darcy’s mother, Anne, and her brother, Edward, were born of that union. As in many families of the aristocracy, the children were left to the care of a nurse until they were old enough to begin lessons with a governess. That arrangement worked well for the parents, but it often left the children living lonely lives in a far corner of a country house. Catherine, having already experienced the isolation of an attic nursery and classroom, did not want the same for Anne and Edward. Already possessing an assertive personality, she assumed the role of surrogate mother to the two children, and many of the decisions affecting their lives were made by their much older sister.

When Catherine came of age, a marriage was arranged to Lord Lewis de Bourgh, a baron, who was in possession of a great estate and a pile of unpaid bills. After their marriage, Lord de Bourgh used his wife’s dowry to pay down his debt, but when Catherine took over management of the house, money was no longer a problem. She was so efficient a manager, and one who kept watch over every penny spent at Rosings, that her husband removed himself to London. It was only his beloved daughter, Anne, who could coax him back into Kent.

Darcy remembered Anne’s comments about her parents. “Papa was a weak man with a pleasing personality who loved me dearly but who could never live within his means. Because of my father’s failings, it fell to my mother to manage the estate, provide for the servants, and assume those duties that should have been performed by the lord of the manor.”

The great irony was that the same woman who had provided much needed affection to his mother and uncle seemed incapable of doing the same for her own daughter, except in a crisis, as when Anne had nearly died. It was almost as if Anne had been evenly divided between the mother and father, one providing love while the other saw to her physical well-being.

“Good morning, Will,” Georgiana said, interrupting his thoughts.

When his sister came to the table, he began immediately. “Georgiana, please sit down. I need to discuss something with you.”

Before her brother could begin, she said, “You wish to talk to me about my comment regarding Aunt Catherine. You believe it was a thoughtless remark made at our aunt’s expense. But you are wrong. It was premeditated. I wanted to make Anne laugh, and she did. Anne and I have discussed Aunt Catherine on many occasions, and her comments are much more cutting than anything I could ever say.

“I know you are also concerned that I shall be indiscreet when I come out. But I can assure you I shall measure every word before saying anything when in society. You need not worry that I shall embarrass you. I understand the difference between what may be said among family and what must never be discussed outside of our home.” Giving him a peck on the cheek, she said, “I am not very hungry this morning, and the carriage is already here. No need to keep Mr. Oldham waiting unless there is something else you wish to discuss with me.”

“No, off you go. You anticipated my concerns.”

Darcy heard Georgiana say “good morning” to Anne on her way out, and then Anne came into the breakfast room smiling.

“You heard the whole thing, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. I think you made your point, and the desired result was achieved with such an economy of words,” and she started laughing.

“You may laugh, Anne, but no matter how overbearing your mother may be, she deserves our respect.”

“I think you are overly concerned. Georgiana obviously knows what constitutes private and public discourse. Speaking of discourse, our cousin is to make a speech in the House of Lords on Tuesday, and I am to hear him from the Visitor’s Gallery. He is speaking on British maritime supremacy with particular attention being paid to the Americans and the expansion of their merchant fleet. Will you attend?”

“Can you guarantee he will be sober?”

“Will, that is unkind. He is still Lord Fitzwilliam and our cousin.”

“Anne, the last time I saw him, he was outside White’s being supported by two of his friends while waiting for a hackney. If this excessive drinking does not stop, Richard will have a very good chance of becoming Lord Fitzwilliam. His daughters cannot inherit, and Eleanor will not have him in her bed for a king’s ransom, so there will be no heir.”

Anne knew well of Antony’s excesses, and it made her sad to think her cousin was well down the road to an early grave.

“I was aware Eleanor will no longer perform the duties of a wife. Apparently, she has taken a certain Mr. Dillon as her lover.”

Darcy nearly spat out his coffee. “Good God, Anne! Wherever did you hear that? Never mind. I do not want to know. What a topic of conversation for an unmarried woman!”

“Don’t be silly. I may be a maiden, but I am neither blind nor deaf, and I
can
read. Besides, it was Antony himself who told me about Mr. Dillon.”

Every day Darcy was witness to the great changes happening in society, and was there any greater proof of these convulsions than his sweet, angelic cousin discussing Lady Fitzwilliam being bedded by an importer of fabric from the East Indies?

Of late, so many things seemed upended, and he knew exactly when it had begun: on the road to Netherfield Park. First, the axle on the carriage had broken, and when forced to proceed on horseback, he had been caught out in the open in a rainstorm. His misfortunes multiplied from the time of that blasted assembly. He alienated Bingley, hurt Miss Bennet, insulted Miss Elizabeth not once but several times, and after following Elizabeth into Kent like a love-struck adolescent, his offer of marriage had been resoundingly rejected. He returned to London believing he would find some comfort in his own home. Instead, he found his sister dancing rings around him and his cousin discussing an extramarital affair with her male relation.

“Is there anything else our cousin shared with you?” he said, throwing his napkin on the table. “You know it was he who told
The Insider
that I would be making an offer of marriage to Miss Montford just as I had decided that I was not going to marry her. And do you know why he is doing this? Because he is being paid by
The Insider
.”

Anne understood her cousin’s anger, but it had little to do with Miss Montford. What had him so irate was an item that had appeared in several gossip sheets reporting that Will had been seen going into Mrs. Conway’s salon in the evening, but not emerging until dawn. The only news there was that Will believed his relationship with the intelligent and gifted widow of a Whig politician was a secret. Antony, who was unembarrassed by his liaisons, thought nothing of sharing similar information with others, even about the man who had repeatedly come to his rescue.

“That was very wrong of Antony, especially since I am sure it raised Miss Montford’s hopes of an offer, but on the other hand, Mrs. Conway can certainly take care of her herself.”

Will was thunderstruck. “How the devil…?” but then he stopped. “Anne, I have a meeting this morning with George Bingley, and I shall see you this afternoon.” And he went straight out the door, not even waiting for Mercer to hand him his hat.

When Darcy returned that afternoon, he presented his cousin with a bouquet of flowers that he had bought from a flower stall. This was something he frequently did for Anne whenever she was in town because it distressed him to know that his cousin would never have a suitor. It had been her choice, but it saddened him nonetheless.

“You always were the sweetest boy, and that has not changed with the years. So come and sit by me, and let us speak of our visit to Pemberley. I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am to be going. After two long years, I shall be able to walk in the gardens where I can see all the way to the Peak. I am also looking forward to going into the village. Do you often go into Lambton when you are in residence?”

“I would not say often. But when Georgiana and I return to Pemberley for any appreciable amount of time, we do go into the village. My sister is quite the social butterfly. She visits all the shops, compliments the merchants, praises their wives, and pats their children on their heads. She knows everyone’s name, and once she learns a baby has been born, she brings the mother a basket and writes the baby’s name in her little book.”

“Just like your mother.”

“Yes, but there is more pleasure in her kindnesses and less of the obligation.”

“Does Mrs. Culver still manage the inn at Lambton? She was such a nice lady.”

“No, her sons have taken over the management. I am laughing because I have heard many words to describe Mrs. Culver, but ‘nice’ was not one of them. It is hard to be nice when you have travelers descending upon you at all hours.”

“I remember her fondly. When we went there for tea, she always gave us sweets. Do you not remember?”

“Of course she gave us sweets. My father was the lord of the manor, and you were the granddaughter of an earl.”

“Will, you are spoiling my memories.”

Darcy sighed, another slipup, but added, “I stand corrected. Mrs. Culver meets the very definition of ‘nice’ in every respect.”

“My goodness. How sensitive we have become. It is just that I loved going there for tea. Do you think we could go into the village and have tea at the inn? I would like to do so as soon as possible after we arrive at Pemberley. I am that keen on revisiting places of my youth.”

“Whatever you wish will be done. I am at your service.”