Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
GOSSIP AND RUMOUR
It had been another day of his mother’s constant, albeit subtle, manoeuvrings.
Why could she not accept his repeated refusals?
Instead, contrary to his firm statements, she accepted invitations on behalf of the whole family to this affair and that, thereby obliging him to attend.
It would never do to embarrass the earl and countess of Matlock by his truancy.
Richard quickly discovered that only by absenting himself entirely from the house could he avoid the ceaseless social obligations.
At times his escape was made legitimate by calls of duty.
He was needed at the barracks where he was soon to take up his command, there to set up his quarters and learn his way about the encampment.
The regiment which he was soon to lead was stationed just out of London, close enough that he could make the ride well within two hours on a steady horse, but sufficiently distant that any duties running into the late afternoon obliged him to spend the night.
At this time of year, in particular, darkness fell early and the return trip to Town was often impossible. Indeed, Richard ensured it was so.
He took this time, before his official tenure as colonel to the regiment began, to make the acquaintance of his fellow officers, and was often invited to dine with the present colonel and his men.
These evenings were a relief to him, as much for the less formal company as for the reprieve from his mother’s badgering.
At other times, when not needed at the barracks, he created reasons to be away from Matlock House in London.
If he disappeared early in the morning, before breakfast when the day’s invitations arrived and his mother set about accepting them all, he could avoid having to refuse simply by not being present.
He quickly acquainted himself with the city’s gymnasia, where men of quality could exercise during the cold winter months, and with the variety of boxing parlours and fencing establishments that London had on offer.
He joined his cousin’s club, where he could get a good cup of coffee before the sun was fully risen.
He attended more talks at museums and art galleries than he had known existed, and became a regular at the Royal Society, where there was often some interesting lecture on some aspect of science he did not know interested him.
He thought of Emily often at such times, wondering what she would think of it all. He missed her dreadfully.
Most often, however, he sought refuge with his cousin.
Despite their correspondence, as regular as was possible over 3500 miles of cold Atlantic, there was nothing like being in company with his dearest relation.
To that end, he became a regular visitor at Darcy’s fine town house, often arriving early in the morning, and staying until long past his welcome.
But Darcy could tolerate him well and would simply leave the room when his endurance for conversation was worn out.
“You are not quite yourself,” Richard muttered to his cousin one evening about two weeks after his return.
The men were sitting in Darcy’s study after spending much of that day at the British Museum.
The air outside was cold and the fire warm, and each was content to sit back in Darcy’s comfortable armchairs with a glass of good brandy at hand.
“What do you mean, ‘not myself?’” Darcy replied with a level glare.
“I am much as I ever was. I never change.” He looked about the study, which, while everything elegant and refined, looked as if it might have been unaltered for the last hundred years.
Darcy was no slave to fashion, being quite content to leave matters alone that did not need changing.
Richard threw one ankle over the opposite knee and took a sip of his brandy. His cousin’s cellars were an excellent reason to keep up his frequent visits, aside from Darcy’s company, of course.
“I beg to differ. You are much changed from when I departed for Bermuda. Perhaps the affair with your sister…”
Darcy groaned and pushed his hair back from his forehead.
“I shall never forgive myself for that. You should not forgive me either, for all that you share guardianship of Georgiana with me. How could I have been so mistaken in that vile woman’s character?
” He furrowed his brow as he stared at his glass of brandy, as if he could bring it to a boil with a glare alone.
“I sought out all her references,” he continued, “and read each through several times. She had such a fine endorsement from Mrs North at the school… It seemed certain that she was of excellent character. Oh, how sadly wrong I was. And Georgie nearly paid with her very future.”
“You did the best you could, Darcy. And Georgie, for her ill adventure, is no worse for the having of it.” For a moment his thoughts flickered to Emily, who had endured so much worse at the hands of her former betrothed and at those of Weekes, but he forced them back to the present.
“How is my young cousin? Is she much improved from her experience?”
Darcy wrinkled his nose. “She was sorely wounded at first. She was a child, a girl of fifteen, who thought herself in love. A handsome face and some flattering words, and her head was completely turned. When I enlightened her as to Wickham’s other conquests, I felt she might swoon.
I was not gentle, I confess. I know I do not always present my thoughts well when I am perturbed.
I laid out before her the extent of his debts, and worse, the names of young women from the villages by Pemberley who had borne him children.
She ought not to know about that, and it was not my finest hour, but it was effective.
Any stars she had in her eyes regarding Wickham fell off at once, and she was aghast at what she had done. ”
“Poor Georgie,” Richard murmured. The child must have been devastated. “What a sad way to grow up so very quickly.”
“It was difficult at first. She wept her way through my entire stock of cravats. But her heart, which was so easily wounded, was equally resilient. She has quite sworn off all men, but I do not believe that will last past her seventeenth birthday. It matters not, for I shall not allow her into society until she is eighteen. She now proclaims herself to be happy at Pemberley with Mrs Annesley. She practices her pianoforte and draws and associates with some of the good families we know in the area, and she seems to have regained her accustomed spirits.”
The men returned to their drinks and lapsed into silence for a moment. Then Richard asked his next question.
“Where is Mrs Younge now?”
Another groan. “I do not know. As soon as the plot was revealed and I made my knowledge of it clear to her, she vanished.
I can only imagine she returned to London, but if she changed her name and settled into the less reputable parts of town, I doubt I shall ever find her.
Besides, what could I do if I did? Encouraging an unsuitable engagement is hardly a criminal matter, even if I think it should be.
As long as I never have to see that woman again, I shall be satisfied.
Richard nodded. “And Mrs Annesley herself? Is the lady a good fit?”
Darcy’s dark expression cleared a bit. “Yes. I refused to rely upon my memories of her and her friendship with my mother. Having learnt my lesson, I exercised a great deal of diligence before engaging her, and she seems to be everything she claims to be, and nothing more. She is well-read and well-spoken and has an impeccable character. She does not, perhaps, have the social expertise of Mrs Younge and does not parade Georgie around London, but she tells Georgie about our mother, and knows the family somewhat well. At the moment, I believe they are best to remain at Pemberley.”
Darcy sat back and placed his brandy glass on the small table beside him, then steepled his fingers beneath his chin for a moment. After a deep breath he added, “Perhaps I have grown a bit wiser and sadder.” He picked up his glass and took a sip of his brandy and Richard did likewise.
“But this does not answer my question. There is something else. What has happened? There is something about you that was not there before I departed.” Richard held back a chortle. “You are distracted, perhaps even gloomy. If I didn’t know better, I would say you are in love.”
Darcy glowered at him.
“What ho? Am I correct?”
The stare grew malevolent.
“What is her name? Why have I not heard of this before? Even Mother has said nothing. You have always been able to talk to me before; why now should you suddenly go all missish on me?”
“Richard…” He growled, his tone a warning.
But Richard was a soldier, and one trained for combat.
“I insist to know all about her. Why the sour expression?” He lowered his voice. “What is wrong with her? Has she spurned you?”
Darcy looked like he had deflated in his chair.
“It is of little matter, for nothing can come of it. She is wholly unsuitable. Furthermore, I deny that I am in love with her. It is a passing fancy, perhaps, some strange sort of infatuation brought about by the tedium of the countryside. Nothing more.”
“From the beginning, Darcy, and leave out no details.” Richard sat forward in his chair.
As much as his associates derided women for their propensity to gossip, Richard knew well that men’s inclinations were just as bad, if not worse.
This, hearing the tale from Darcy’s own lips, was hardly gossip, but it filled a similar need, and he was not embarrassed to admit it.