Chapter Eighteen
“When shall we depart for Pemberley, Elizabeth?” Darcy was nearly begging. “Please say it will be soon.”
Elizabeth drew her gloves off one finger at a time, in a maddeningly slow pretense of thoughtfulness. “Well, I do not know, William. Is being my escort in London so unbearable?”
“I know you jest,” he replied, handing his coat and hat off to a footman. “You cannot have missed that . . . spectacle this evening.”
Elizabeth did not smile, but she pressed her lips together which meant she wished to. Minx. “I do not believe I witnessed any spectacle, Mr. Darcy. Whatever can you mean?”
Darcy removed his own gloves in two quick tugs and handed those over as well. “You are well aware that every person known to us at the theater this evening—and many entirely unknown to us—approached us for conversation or to be introduced. It is that wretched article!”
“Articles,” she corrected him. He groaned.
Two of the London papers had made mention of his triumph over Howard at Angelo’s.
Both writers extolled a Mr. D. of Derbyshire who, even when set upon by a most dishonorable opponent, remained noble in all his actions and had emerged victorious.
Elizabeth had read it aloud at breakfast, relishing his discomfort at being so singled out.
It was even more florid than the story she had admitted telling in the countess’s drawing room.
Now Darcy had the approval and attention of both the women and the men of the ton.
It was excruciating.
The tale might have been sold by any man who had attended the bout between Howard and himself but given the timing of the publication—weeks after the fact and just at the beginning of the season—he suspected Henry.
Darcy asked Fitz, but his cousin pled ignorance.
The man was too caught up in his courtship of Miss Bennet even to tease Darcy about his sudden renown.
Elizabeth had teased him, but she was proud of him, too. Her approbation was worth having. But the theater had been . . .
This time Elizabeth did smile. “You are the most popular man in London at the moment. Enjoy it.”
“Enjoy it, you say?“ Darcy asked, bewildered. He had been unable to escape. Even the Duke of Devonshire had stopped briefly to exchange a few words. “Do you know me at all?”
Elizabeth laughed quietly and led the way upstairs to their chambers.
When they were ready for bed and had dismissed the servants, she embraced him.
Darcy sighed, but put his arms around her and held her close.
The tension ebbed away, as it always did when they touched.
“We missed half of the first act,” he grumbled.
She shook her head at him. “It was Shakespeare. You told me yourself you have seen the play twice before and you have read it at least a dozen times.” She gazed at him sympathetically.
“This will pass, my dear. But let us try to make the best of it. It would appear ill-mannered to flee town just now.” She held him tightly and raised herself on her toes to bestow a kiss.
“You met several men tonight whose conversation interested you, and I met several of their wives upon whom I should like to call. Let us explore these new connections and discover who among them might be friends in time.”
Darcy stiffened. “I have not had the best of luck with friends, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth’s hands moved in circles over his lower back, and he bent to kiss her forehead.
“That is because you did not have me before,” she assured him. “Together we shall find our circle. And you know, a number of good friends come with me—consider them my dowry of sorts.”
He sighed deeply.
“What were the most common demands of these so-called friends upon you?” Elizabeth asked.
“You know what they were,” Darcy answered. “Marriage.”
“And money?”
He nodded. “Nearly always money, in one form or another.”
“Well, as you are newly and happily wed, any requests for your hand must be at an end.”
“I would hope so.” Although there might be other inquiries from amorous widows and the like, hopefully they would cease when it was clear how much he loved his wife.
Elizabeth continued. “And as for money, you may again use me as a ready excuse. For you now have a new wife for whom to provide—and she did not bring a fortune with her. You have far less disposable income as a result.”
He grunted, not wanting to confess that his mood was improving. “The good Lord knows that is true. Her gowns alone . . .”
Elizabeth laughed and pulled back, slapping lightly at his arm. “Here I am, attempting to cheer you, and you turn on me. Badly done, sir. You pay less for gowns than anyone in the ton.” She smiled coyly. “Just for that, Mr. Darcy, tomorrow we shall attend the opera.”
Darcy tipped his head back. “Elizabeth, no.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and gazed up at him. When he lowered his head, he saw her eyes, sparkling with joy and hope. “I have never been to the Opera House,” she said.
He grimaced. She knew he could deny her nothing when she looked at him that way. “Very well. But you shall have to do something for me in return.”
“Gladly,” she replied, and straightened as though he might be dispatching her on a mission. “What might that be?”
Darcy lowered his head to Elizabeth’s and captured her lips with his own. He pulled her close, waiting for her hands to tangle themselves in his hair and slide to the back of his neck. When they did, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to bed.
“This,” he said.
“Oh,” Elizabeth said languidly and reached up to stroke the side of his face with her hand. “It would be my pleasure, William.”
He smiled. It would indeed.
Darcy signed the contract in his usual tight, controlled hand. He carefully handed the document back to Gunderson, who sanded the page.
“I believe that is the last of it unless you wish me to prepare a lease,” the solicitor said, reaching for a ribbon to tie the packet of papers together.
“No,” Darcy replied, feeling some relief that the purchase had been completed and trepidation over how best to approach the next step. “Not at the present time.”
“Darcy!” came a booming voice from the doorway. “What do you do here?”
Darcy stood, surprised but unwilling to show it. “Uncle,” he said. “I am completing some business with Mr. Gunderson.” He knew that Lord Matlock used several solicitors, though he had not known Gunderson was one of them.
“Typical Darcy answer,” Henry said, as he moved around his father and into the room. He was wearing a green coat, rather a brighter shade than typical for a man’s garment. “Always so literal. Will you not tell us the substance of your business?”
“I beg your pardon?” Darcy asked, somewhat taken aback. “Since when do I share my financial dealings with you?”
“Boys,” the earl said sternly.
Gunderson had disappeared, no doubt a skill honed to avoid the scene of quarreling family members. Darcy knew if he called, his solicitor would return, but for now, he had what he required. He gathered the neatly tied stack of documents.
“What have you there?” the earl asked quietly. “Might it be the deed to Stodley Abbey near Rotherham?”
Darcy cocked his head to one side. “It might.”
“My solicitor has been viewing suitable properties for several months, and this is the closest one to Matlock. We would like to purchase it from you,” the earl said. “I intend to sign it over to Richard as a wedding gift.”
“There is no need, Uncle,” Darcy said politely. “It is already in my cousin’s name.”
“I told you, father,” Henry said seriously, though his eyes displayed a wicked sort of mirth. “He intends to show us up.”
“It is a small estate and has been sitting unoccupied for some time, but I agree that its location is ideal,” Darcy replied. “I made rather a bargain of it.”
Henry studied him for a moment. “Ah, you mean to keep Elizabeth and Miss Bennet close,” he said, wagging a finger at Darcy. “You are a wiser man than I thought, cousin.”
“I will do what I must to see to my wife’s happiness,” Darcy told his cousin smugly.
“William,” the earl added somberly before Henry could respond, “I am Richard’s father.
He will not accept such a gift from you, but he will from me.
Matlock has done very well these past few years, and the Earl of Wright wished to show his gratitude to Richard for his part in discovering those ruffians.
Even had Henry not declared his intentions, I would have asked Richard not to return to the peninsula. ”
The earl was not a man of many words, but he loved his sons—both of them. And he was correct. Fitz would accept such a gift from his father without protest.
“Very well,” Darcy agreed. “But I have already purchased the property. It would be a waste of time to undo it.” He handed the contract to his uncle. “Simply pay your solicitor to change my name to yours and offer it to my cousin.”
“Why, thank you,” Henry began to say, but Darcy cut him off.
“My more deserving cousin,” he said bluntly.
All three men laughed softly.
“I will pay you for the purchase, Darcy,” the earl said firmly. “It is my duty as his father and my privilege as well.”
Darcy shook his head. “Half, then. A wedding gift from us all. Use the remaining funds to improve the property.”
The earl narrowed his eyes. “Very well.”
He had no doubt that his uncle would foist something upon him in recompense, but for now, Darcy was satisfied. “I thank you, uncle.”
“On that note, gentlemen, I am off,” Henry said jovially. He slapped Darcy on the back and gave his father a formal bow.
“Here now,” the earl asked, eyeing his son. “You promised your mother she would see you for dinner.”
“And so she shall,” Henry said. “But just now, I have somewhere to be.”
Darcy walked out with them and waited as the earl climbed into his carriage. “Henry,” he said when the earl was out of hearing, “I have wanted to ask you something since you made your announcement, but I could not run after you, and you have been avoiding me since.”