Impatiently, Darcy Read online

  He turned at the sadness in her voice. “Don’t suppose what, Georgiana?” He must ask, but really he wanted to change the subject.

  “Well,” she was twisting her fingers in her lap. “I don’t know if I’d be brave enough, even if she did ask.”

  “Ask what, Georgiana?” Darcy tried not to show his impatience.

  She shrank back a little. “I’d hoped she might ask me to stand up with her at your wedding, but I expect she’d ask her sister,” she whispered.

  “It is not yet for discussion.” Darcy felt the situation was beginning to get out of hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Georgiana shrank back. Darcy shook his head.

  “No matter.” He was watching Elizabeth. He tried to keep his expression neutral. It was going to be a long evening.

  Dawn. It would not be long before he could go downstairs. Darcy stood at the window, watching as the grey light crept over the shadowed gardens.

  He wished he was back at Pemberley. Too much was happening, too fast. He leaned against the window frame, his mood as dark as the world outside the window.

  How soon could he call on Lady Somerville? But then all their efforts at secrecy would be in vain. There was no possibility that he would not be seen there.

  He paced round the room, scowling. He would have to send a note via the lawyer. But that might mean he did not get an appointment today. No, he would go himself — on horseback, where he would be less identifiable to casual observers.

  Something had gone terribly wrong. He knew that his own letter had been quite clear. Lady Somerville’s reply had acknowledged his request and it had been clear she had understood him. But when he had reread Lady Susan’s letters after the ball, he was struck by the fact that they were somewhat ambiguous.

  Had Lady Susan misled Elizabeth deliberately? He could not bring himself to believe that it was Elizabeth who was at fault.

  He turned back to his bed. It was cold in the room and he was loath to start the day with this bone-aching feeling of exhaustion. Perhaps he might sleep for an hour, now that he had determined what to do.

  23

  Lady Susan looked up as a knock on the door heralded her sister. Susan frowned, Amelia looked very serious.

  “Susan, I have been called upon by a gentleman, and I am most concerned at what appears to have happened.”

  Susan raised an eyebrow and waited for further elucidation.

  Amelia smiled wryly. “My caller is Mr. Darcy. The gentleman who wanted a lady to pretend to be engaged to him.”

  Susan felt a jolt of surprise at hearing Mr. Darcy’s name, and numbly took the sheet of notepaper that Amelia held out to her.

  She glanced at it. “That is not the handwriting of the letter I have,” she said in surprise, and opened the top drawer of her bureau. She extracted the original letter from Mr. Darcy, and her notes relating to her meetings and the introduction to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  She handed the letter to Amelia, who compared the two.

  “They are in a completely different hand,” she mused. “Oh, dear. It appears that our decision to keep confidentiality between ourselves has resulted in severe embarrassment to this gentleman.”

  Susan wanted to sink through the floor. “Where is he now?”

  Amelia looked at her. “He is waiting in my sitting room. We must go and talk to him.”

  Susan made a face. “And I must go and see Miss Bennet, she must be very distressed.”

  “Let us meet Mr. Darcy first,” Amelia was firm. “I do not know what we are to say to him.” She picked up the letters. “I wonder who penned this one?”

  Susan followed her sister into her sitting room, and saw Mr. Darcy rising to his feet. He looked grey and exhausted — and coldly angry. Her heart sank. If he really didn’t know about the letter she had received, then he was perfectly justified. And she had no idea how the situation was going to be resolved.

  “I believe you are acquainted with my sister, Lady Susan?” Amelia began. “Before we continue to discuss this unfortunate matter, can you tell me whether you are able to identify the author of this letter?”

  She held out the letter that Lady Susan had received towards Mr. Darcy, who seized it.

  “Richard!” he exclaimed, and read rapidly. Susan watched as his face suffused with colour and his scowl deepened.

  There was silence when he finished reading, and he strode to the window and glared out of it.

  Susan and Amelia exchanged glances and waited for him to turn. But as the time drew out, Susan wondered if he did not know what to do. She had met him before, given him advice — it was up to her.

  She stepped forward and stood next to him. “I am desolated that this has happened, Mr. Darcy. Might you tell me how you and Miss Bennet discovered the confusion?”

  He glanced at her, his expression cold. “In the middle of a private ball at my uncle’s house last night.”

  Susan winced. The embarrassment for both of them must have been insupportable.

  After another short silence, she tried again. “It appears you recognised the hand on the other letter, Mr. Darcy. Can you think why he impersonated you?”

  His eyes were hooded, dismissive. “That, I intend to discover when I leave here. What I want to know from you is why you did not divine that you had two contradictory letters purporting to come from me, and did not appear to notice?”

  Amelia broke into the conversation. “Please come and sit down, Mr. Darcy. I would like to explain briefly how it came about, and then the more important matter of what we can do to help try and resolve the situation.”

  He turned incredulous eyes on her. “Resolve it? I will be a laughing stock among the family, and I cannot comprehend that it will not spread through society.”

  “All right,” Amelia relented. “Please come and tell me exactly what has happened so far and perhaps together we can see the way forward.”

  Susan sat down quietly, rather out of view of Mr. Darcy. It would be easier for him to talk to one person, and Amelia was very good at drawing out what information she needed, without being cloyingly sympathetic.

  The coach drew up outside the Gardiner’s home in Gracechurch Street. Lady Susan wondered how she would find Miss Bennet, and what the rest of her relations thought of the matter. She had not the first idea what to say.

  The butler took her card and she waited in the hall, wishing very much that she was far away. But the butler soon returned.

  “This way, please, Lady Susan.” As she followed him through to the drawing room, she wondered how Miss Bennet had felt after returning from the ball. She must remember that the girl knew nothing about how it had happened, that she might blame her.

  Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet rose as she entered the room and curtsied politely. But Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes were without warmth.

  “Take a seat, Lady Susan. We were expecting you rather earlier.” Her voice was glacial. She was magnificent. Lady Susan knew that in any other street in the city, she would be in demand as a society hostess. But that was beside the point. She looked at Miss Bennet.

  The girl seemed calm, but she was pale and there were ill-concealed dark circles under her eyes, and her expression was dull.

  “Miss Bennet, we have heard from Mr. Darcy and have discovered how the confusion arose.” She swallowed a lump in her throat, she liked this girl and had been pleased that she was to marry into one of the top families in the land.

  “I’ve come to explain, to apologise, and to find out what I can do to help you in the position in which you find yourself, for which you are entirely innocent.”

  There was a moment’s silence, then Miss Bennet looked up at her. “I would like to understand; I had no alternative but to think you must have known about it.” Her eyes flashed with a return to her natural demeanour. “Because I know of no young lady with any scruples who would agree to the other arrangement.” The fire died out of her eyes and she just looked tired again. “I’m sad it took long enough to come to light that
all my family and friends know about my so-called engagement. What has happened can never leave me now.”

  Lady Susan nodded. “I’m so sorry about it. It was never meant to be that way.” She sat forwards and reached out for the girl’s hand. “Miss Bennet, I will explain to you in a moment how this happened. But I want to assure you that Lady Somerville and I will ensure all our patronage is behind you until you are well-settled. I will not permit anything to ruin your chance of a good marriage.” She patted Miss Bennet’s hand, rather concerned by the lack of enthusiasm on the girl’s face.

  “Well, we are certainly grateful for that, Lady Susan.” Mrs. Gardiner was more receptive to the offer. “Let me send for tea.” She rose to her feet and rang the bell.

  24

  Elizabeth sat there, too tired and too despondent to be able to make the responses that the other wanted to hear.

  It was a most generous offer, and she might certainly do very well from it. But all she could think about was how Mr. Darcy would explain himself, and what Georgiana would think of her. Because, whatever she had said to Mr. Darcy in the heat of the moment, she did care about Georgiana; and the rest of the family who had been so very welcoming, too.

  Lady Matlock would think ill of her; and Colonel Fitzwilliam. She could have helped — if she had joined the family, she could have helped Colonel Fitzwilliam and his cousin Anne to see what was plain to her. It would have assisted them to be happy.

  And whatever she thought about Mr. Darcy’s arrogant assumption that a lady would take part in his foolish proposition, she cared that he would be unhappy, would be embarrassed in the eyes of his family.

  And her heart sank at the thought that she’d never see him again, never feel the heat of his touch as he assisted her from the coach.

  Suddenly she knew she could sit here no more. She would not permit Lady Susan to see her weep. She stood up. “Thank you for coming here today, Lady Susan, and I am very grateful for your kind attention.”

  She swallowed, she must be strong, if only for a few more moments. “Perhaps you might explain to my aunt what happened. Please excuse me.” She didn’t wait to see their caller’s reaction, or to be excused, but hurried from the room.

  In her chamber, she dropped onto the little chair by the window, and leaned forward over the small table. This last week, she’d come alive. She realised she cared about his family; his sister was as dear to her as her own sisters, back in Hertfordshire.

  Most of all, she had to acknowledge to herself that she cared about Mr. Darcy. As the tears began to flow, she knew it. The cold, arrogant, selfish, rude and hurtful man — the handsome, well-bred gentleman who loved his sister, the man who could smile at her as if he loved her — the man she had known little longer than a week — she loved him. That she would never see him again … what did she care that another good match was promised to her, a life of security and wealth?

  She wanted the arrangement she thought she’d had. But she couldn’t have it. She allowed herself to weep, afterwards, she’d sleep from exhaustion, she knew. Then she must pick up the pieces of her life and assemble a new one.

  But it would be a life without Mr. Darcy.

  She woke later as her aunt came into her chamber. “Oh, Lizzy! I was sure you would have lain on your bed. I was letting you rest.” She hurried to her side. “You must be so stiff from having fallen asleep there.” She put her arm round Elizabeth, who wriggled her aching shoulders.

  “You were not to know, Aunt Gardiner.” She looked up at her aunt. “Has Lady Susan gone?”

  “Oh, yes, some time ago.” Her aunt embraced her. “I want you to freshen up and then come downstairs. Everything will turn out right, I am sure.”

  “How?” Elizabeth asked hopelessly. “How can everything possibly turn out right?”

  “You heard Lady Susan offering their patronage, didn’t you? It will make such a difference to your prospects, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, but shook her head. It was better not to say too much. “I suppose you are right, Aunt.” She got to her feet and went to the washbowl. The water in the jug was cold, but it didn’t matter.

  She wondered what Mr. Darcy was feeling now.

  25

  Darcy strode up the steps of Darcy House, still scowling, while the groom led the sweating horse away. After his call at Somerville House, he’d ridden over to Hampstead Heath. Only there could he gallop away his troubles and his anger. At least for a while.

  Now he must confront Richard. He dreaded it. Surely it would mean a loss of his friendship, of that companionable silence over the port in the evenings.

  Georgiana would miss him, too, he thought sadly.

  He turned into his library, shutting the door with rather more force than he had intended. He was sorry if Georgiana was distressed by it.

  He poured himself a whisky and sat before the fire. It was as well he’d ridden out first, his temper was dulled — perhaps he could have his say without losing Richard’s friendship.

  No trouble with a lady could possibly be worth losing Richard as a friend. Since they were boys together, he’d leaned on his quiet acceptance and good humour. When Father had favoured Wickham, or called Darcy’s skills into question compared to Wickham, Richard had been there for him.

  He sighed. Earlier, he had wanted nothing more than to shake the letter in front of Richard’s face, accusing him of causing Darcy’s utter and permanent mortification in society.

  But his ride had helped him to see past the satisfaction he would get from that moment. He would try to moderate his temper, give up the satisfaction and keep the valued friendship.

  Perhaps Richard could help him decide what to do. He leaned over and rang the bell.

  The footman opened the door for Richard, who entered, his face serious.

  Pour yourself a drink, Richard.” Darcy waved at the decanter, and he watched as his cousin poured a drink and sat down opposite him.

  Richard sighed, and stretched his legs out toward the fire.

  “So, am I to know what the trouble was last night, Darcy? Georgiana is terribly distressed. She thought Miss Bennet was troubled, too.”

  “Yes.” Darcy did not know really what to say. He dug into his breast pocket and passed the letter over to Richard.

  “Ah.” Richard barely glanced at it before he folded it again.

  Darcy glanced over, seeing him flushed with mortification. “You are acquainted with the contents, then?”

  “Er. Yes.” It was probably the first time Darcy had seen Richard lost for words.

  “You see, Lady Somerville and her sister, Lady Susan, share out the letters they receive, without discussing the identity of the gentlemen who wish to use their service.” Darcy stared into the dark liquid in his glass.

  “Your letter, there, was taken on by Lady Susan, who set out — all unknown to me — to find me a bride.”

  Richard wasn’t looking at him. He, too, was staring fixedly into his glass.

  Darcy leaned forward. “But, of course, when she wrote saying she had found someone she thought would suit my requirements, I knew nothing about it.”

  Richard glanced up, his eyes guarded.

  Darcy found he had lost interest in baiting his friend. “I thought she was writing to say she had found someone for my request — which had been taken by Lady Somerville, who knew nothing of your letter.” He drew out his own letter, which he had obtained back that morning, and handed it to Richard.

  Richard scanned the letter quickly and grimaced. He turned back and reread it.

  “So, you thought Miss Bennet was …?”

  “Yes.” Darcy rose to his feet and attacked the fire viciously with the poker. It helped.

  “So, how did the difference come to light last night?” Richard sounded tired.

  Darcy shrugged. “We went for a turn in the garden and I remarked that she should not allow Georgiana and my other relations to become too fond of her.”

  Richard grimaced again. �
��I can see the difficulty.” He looked at Darcy. “I am surprised that Miss Bennet was content to continue with the pretence for the rest of the ball. It must have been a shattering blow to her.”

  “It was quite a surprise to me, too,” Darcy said, dryly.

  “Well, yes. I suppose so.” Richard looked uncomfortable again.

  There was a long silence.

  “I can only apologise, Darcy, for being the unwitting cause of such mortification to you both.” Richard shook his head. “And thank you for not throwing me out of your house for ever.”

  Darcy flicked a glance at him. “When I found out you had written that letter, I was sorely tempted, Richard.”

  “It would have been justified, Darcy. I know that.” Richard looked up. “How can I help make amends? I will do whatever I can.”

  Darcy shrugged. He was very, very tired. “I don’t know. I have to say something to Georgiana, and that is my greatest concern. I have to say something to all my family and still avoid marrying Cousin Anne.”

  He huffed a tired laugh. “For that, I think the only thing that can now be done is to give Lady Catherine the cut.” He sighed. “But that will upset your parents.”

  Richard nodded. “I think it might be better if you wait a few days, Darcy. Most people at the ball are unaware of what happened, and, as you say, your concern must be mainly for Georgiana.” He hesitated. “What did Lady Somerville and her sister say?”

  “More or less the same thing,” Darcy had lost interest in the conversation. “I am to see them again in a few days and they will offer whatever assistance I think will help — though I cannot think what it should be. I will be a laughing stock.”

  Richard sounded diffident. “I understand, and I don’t really want to raise this issue. But I know Georgiana will ask straight away after Miss Bennet.”

  Darcy scowled. He was not going to admit that he, too had thought of her. “I understand Lady Susan was going to call on her today. They will offer her their full patronage in the future.”