The Trouble with Mr. Darcy (54 page)

They resumed their stroll to the end of the path. The joined waters of the damned River Westbourne and the onetime natural springs that randomly dotted the center acres of the recreational grounds in the heart of London had, since 1730, formed the curved pool spanning the interior of the vast park. Named the Serpentine by Queen Catherine, whose idea it was to revamp the royal hunting and leisure preserve nearly a century prior, the lake was now a prime locale for socializing and diversion among the upper echelons of the ton while away from their country adobes.

Alexander, Ethan, Hugh, and the other children were squealing with glee at the numerous hungry-looking ducks swimming on the surface of the crystalline waters. Harry Pomeroy, a mature youth of nine whole years, stood with the older boys watching the frolicking youngsters, they refusing to cavort as the babies did, but their eyes shone nonetheless.

A wide lawn stretched along the southern shore where they stood and the untamed tree- and shrub-dotted northern banks were visible across the river. The gardens retained a wildness about them that was pleasing to the eye, if not as relaxing as a more sculptured landscaping would be. A sizeable amount of the northern acreage was yet forested and reserved for royal hunting of the deer that freely roamed. Only Kensington Gardens to the west, those lands that surrounded the Palace and were segregated from the rest of the park by the harmonious sunken fence established as a boundary in Queen Catherine’s day, were truly designed and manicured to any great degree. Here in Hyde Park proper, there were only a few areas that could be considered formalized or groomed, such as Rotten Row and the Ring north of the Serpentine.

“I read that his Majesty is considering a renovation of Hyde Park,” Bingley said in an effort to break the silence.

“Indeed,” George answered. “He has requested the presence of architects, engineers, and gardeners from all over England. One article said that John Rennie is designing a bridge to span the Serpentine and that Decimus Burton wants to erect a grand entrance of some sort at the corner.”

“What? Nash has not been invited as yet?” Even Darcy chuckled at Richard’s remark.

“Give it time, Colonel. I am sure the eminent John Nash shall be involved eventually, but I also heard a rumor that our new King wants to renovate Buckingham Palace and has enlisted Nash for that project.”

“Excellent. I can imagine Parliament is thrilled at those drains on the treasury.”

“No politics today, gentlemen,” Darcy interrupted, speaking for the first time since halting. “Let us focus on our families. Speaking of which, Richard, your stepson approaches.”

“Father Richard, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Dr. Darcy.” Harry Pomeroy bowed to each man before turning to his stepfather. “The boys wish to remove their shoes and stockings and walk in the water. Do they have your permission?”

The fathers nodded their approvals, Richard adding with a smile, “You may join them, Harry. I am sure the water is refreshing.” The older boy lifted his chin and frowned, saying nothing as he turned to rejoin the children currently screeching with joy as they tossed bread by the handfuls and were enveloped by a cloud of quacking ducks. Richard laughed softly, shaking his head. “He thinks he is so grown-up. Reminds me of another boy I once knew.” He glanced slyly at Darcy, who, as typical, ignored his cousin and kept his attention focused on the six men approaching.

“Darcy! Thank you for inviting us. It is a fine day for a leisurely hour in the park.”

“You are most welcome, Sitwell. I knew Elizabeth would appreciate visiting with her friends. How are you, Gerald?”

“Excellent. Could not be better.”

“I know why you are wearing that grin, Mr. Vernor,” George said with a smile. “Mrs. Vernor will be soon presenting you a third child by the looks of things. Congratulations.”

Gerald Vernor bowed, his face beaming. “Thank you, Doctor. It could be any day now, so we are anxious. We waited so long after Spencer that we were beginning to think that was the end of Vernor children. But God has blessed us, and we are humbled and deeply appreciative. The boys are even more excited to greet what they are convinced will be a little brother.”

“Marilyn can barely contain her glee,” Albert Hughes said with a chuckle. “The fact that your child will be mere months younger than ours was not lost on her, I can assure you. And Michael is close in age as well. Our gatherings will surely be lively affairs for the next dozen years or so.”

Darcy smiled, remaining mum on the possibility of yet another Derbyshire baby to join the mix. The symptoms Lizzy experienced were ambiguous at best, neither of them yet credibly trusting the notion so keeping it a hopeful jest for now. Even the eagle-eyed, intuitive diagnostic skills of Dr. George Darcy were not adequate to confirm the inconspicuous signs.

Mr. Hughes continued. “Darcy, as soon as we return home for the summer I need to bring Christopher to Pemberley. He is anxious to transition from pony to stallion, and I will have him ride none but your thoroughbreds. Marilyn would prefer a colt, but I think I can sway her to accept a smaller stallion.”

George laughed. “Sway her, you say. I am not married, mind you, but that does not seem like an enviable proposition. I wish you well in that endeavor, Mr. Hughes.”

Mr. Sitwell spoke in his quiet voice. “Mrs. Darcy appears well, Darcy. Julia was extremely distressed at the horrible truth. She wanted to rush over to Darcy House yesterday afternoon immediately, but I urged her to wait until today.”

Darcy nodded, his gaze on his wife, who was currently being embraced by a tearful Julia Sitwell. Lizzy, Jane, and Simone had joined Chloe, Julia, Marilyn, Harriet, Alison, and Amelia, who had arrived earlier to set up the blankets and picnic essentials. The gentlemen stood at the edge of the pathway, near enough to hear the murmur of excited voices if not individual words. Lizzy turned to catch Darcy’s eye. She was smiling broadly, her face shining and filled with happiness. She mouthed
thank you
, Darcy inclining his head slightly in response.

“Lord Orman has always been a scoundrel, but I never thought him capable of something so heinous. Wickham either, for that matter,” Mr. Vernor murmured with a visible grimace. He shared a look with Hughes, whose pale face and unnerved eyes revealed a similar inquietude at men they have known for decades behaving evilly.

Hughes cleared his throat, speaking hesitantly and not gazing directly at Darcy when he asked, “I know you are undoubtedly weary of discussing the matter, Darcy, but I am nonetheless intrigued if you have discovered how Orman and Wickham devised such a heinous act.”

Darcy continued to stare at Elizabeth, the pain cloaked behind a neutral mien but notable nevertheless. “Orman was not completely in his right mind, Vernor, not that that excuses his actions. And we saw what Wickham became, his sanity undoubtedly questionable as well,” he responded coldly, proceeding then to give the bare outline of how the two wicked men consorted and plotted.

“My God,” Vernor whispered, truly shaken. “I had no idea. Darcy, I am… stunned. And so sorry.”

Darcy barely hid the grimace the memories evoked. “Thank you, Gerald. I must reiterate that this is to go no further, gentlemen. I trust you in this.” Darcy met each of the men’s eyes, holding firm with a stern stare.

“You know we are trustworthy, Darcy. As are our wives,” Mr. Fitzherbert verified.

They all reaffirmed their silence, Darcy finally sighing and relaxing. “Elizabeth and I want to forget the whole episode. She is well and Alexander is safe. That is all that matters now. Any subsequent talk will only lead to ridiculous insinuations and upset my wife. I will not allow that.”

Darcy never spoke of intimate details or publicly acted in an improper manner, but the intense relationship he shared with his wife was known to his closest friends. These men had known him for years, or, in the case of Gerald Vernor and Albert Hughes, for all of his life. Therefore, they could readily interpret the unconscious gestures and expressions that crossed Darcy’s normally constrained body whenever Mrs. Darcy was present or mentioned. All of them had been witness to tender interactions that were, in most cases, so naturally done that neither was aware of it. Darcy’s friends were no longer shocked or perplexed by the unexpected choice he had made, all truly caring for Elizabeth and happy for the subtle alterations to Darcy’s severe personality. None of them experienced the same intensity in their marriages, so were honest in not comprehending how stricken Darcy probably was by the recent attack. Still, they did love their own wives and children, empathizing and agreeing with the need for secrecy and protection.

“You know we would not wish for gossip, and desire Mrs. Darcy forget it ever happened. Do not fear from us, but what of your staff or others involved?”

“And what of the legalities?” Stephen Lathrop added his concern to Vernor’s.

“The magistrate was uninterested, for the most part, and there were few queries,” Richard explained to the new arrivals, saving Darcy from answering. He gave the same summary related to Bingley, finishing with a warm smile and glance toward Lady Simone. “My wife took pity upon the pathetic, nearly starved, and dimwitted girl used by Orman and Wickham as a slave and God only knows what else. She has been sent to the Fotherby estate to be employed as a kitchen scullion. That will be a far better life for her.”

“Those of my staff who are aware of anything beyond Mrs. Darcy being ill are trustworthy.” A cloud crossed Darcy’s face, his lips setting in a stern line. “All loose ends have been accounted for,” Darcy concluded decisively, the image of Mrs. Smyth’s rented hack wheeling away from Darcy House a perversely happy one.

Mr. Drury, as if divining Darcy’s train of thought, asked, “Have you interviewed my housekeeper’s sister as yet? I scanned her résumé before referring her to Mr. Daniels. It appears impeccable and I can attest to Miss Inglorian’s competence in managing Locknell Hall. If her sister is half as capable, she will be a fine housekeeper for Darcy House.”

“Elizabeth and I have an appointment with her tomorrow. Thank you for the recommendation, but I trust you will understand my caution. I intend to explore all candidates thoroughly and not be hasty in hiring. In fact, Mr. Daniels is supposed to deliver a report today on his findings for the three women we are considering, Mrs. Hass one of them.”

“No, of course I understand your caution, Darcy,” Drury assured him.

“And speaking of Mr. Daniels, your junior solicitor approaches now,” George inserted.

“I apologize for being late, gentlemen. I cannot fathom the mystery of it, but apparently one small child refusing to wear shoes can delay an entire household! Then we stopped at Darcy House to deliver a sheath of papers from my father. I think you will be pleased with the applicants, sir. Are you sure Mrs. Darcy is constitutionally restored to manage three interviews tomorrow? It can be exhausting.”

“My wife thrives on such challenges, Mr. Daniels. The activity will be good for her.”

“Mrs. Daniels will be happy to hear that. She was concerned, naturally, although it does look as if Mrs. Darcy is recovered.”

Silence fell among them, each man lost in personal thoughts of the staggering events while watching their wives and children. Darcy again studied his wife, but she was laughing gaily while nibbling on pieces of cold pheasant and pickled beets. He smiled at the odd dietary combination, praying that it portended of a blessed addition to their family. With her woman’s monthly cycles not resumed after Michael’s birth, there was no way to gauge when she may have conceived, or if she had, therefore they were forced to wait for a surer sign than strange cravings or vague nausea.

“Dare I ask what of Wickham? How have you dealt with that, Darcy?” Mr. Vernor broached in a low voice.

“Circumspectly, Gerald. We agreed that there is no reason for the family to know what happened. Aside from Mrs. Daniels and Mrs. Bingley, of course.”

“Will he be buried in Hertfordshire then?”

Darcy met his lifelong friend’s eyes, understanding the unasked question. “I pray Mr. and Mrs. Wickham are unable to observe events on earth for a host of reasons. If they can, then I must trust they understand why their son will not rest alongside them at Pemberley.”

The men nodded, none disagreeing with his sentiments, and George laid a consoling hand onto his nephew’s shoulder, his voice matching the proud cast to his face when he spoke. “William has paid the burial expenses and wrote a letter to the Bennets eloquently expressing his belief that the Wickhams would appreciate their son being buried where his wife will some day rest.”

The surprise at that gesture was clear upon each face, Clifton Drury whistling and verbalizing what they all thought, “That is generous to say the least, Darcy. Under the circumstances, it is a remarkable action on your part.”

“Generosity had nothing to do with it, I assure you,” Darcy said bluntly. “I was only thinking of my wife and how to minimize her distress. Wickham’s body has been sent to a Meryton mortician who will handle the process with Mr. Bennet’s direction henceforth. I am done with it. They are awaiting Mrs. Wickham’s arrival, who we just heard today from Mrs. Bennet diverted to Bath after Major General and Mrs. Artois’s wedding. A dispatch has been sent. Beyond that, I do not care, to be brutally honest. My family will be leaving for Rosings soon, thus the mourners will not include us.”

“I am happy to hear your plans for Kent have not changed, since new scenery is a wonderful remedy, although Mrs. Hughes insists the seaside best cures her troubles and boredom. Her prescription is several weeks for complete healing, of course.”