Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Darcy’s carriage rattled down the lane. At his side was Georgiana, whose face was lined with such dark shadows that Darcy concluded she continued to sleep poorly.
Opposite was Miss Bennet and her aunt. Almost three months had passed since their arrival at Pemberley, and it had been nearly a month since Fitzwilliam’s departure from it.
Darcy did not know at what point he had become so attuned to the nuances of Miss Bennet’s moods, but he sensed a weariness about her.
Fitzwilliam was still detained at his brother’s bedside, and from Miss Bennet’s question this morning regarding the viscount’s health, he surmised that his cousin was not far from her thoughts.
This excursion had been arranged a few days prior; a trip to Sir Joseph Chichester’s estate, some ten miles from Pemberley, the gentleman being one of the finest art collectors in the area.
Miss Bennet’s joy had been at the forefront of Darcy’s mind when he wrote to Sir Joseph, requesting that he might bring his sister and his guests to view the eminent gentleman’s private gallery, knowing as he did how keenly she would take pleasure from it.
Their route took them through many of the pretty Derbyshire towns, crossing the mediaeval bridges and meandering through the hedged country roads. Not five miles into their journey was Lambton, which Miss Bennet revealed was once the home of a treasured aunt.
“I did not know you had family in Derbyshire.” He regarded her curiously. “Why did your aunt not visit you when you stayed at Pemberley?”
Miss Bennet gave a little laugh. “Five years ago, my aunt Gardiner was not long married to my uncle. They were in London, setting up their home and—” She bit her lip and said no more, fiddling with her reticule.
Darcy did not like this silence and asked, “Where do they live in London?”
Miss Bennet looked up at him from under her lashes, in a way that made his pulse hammer, and said, with a hint of defiance, “In Gracechurch Street.”
He frowned. “I do not recognise the name. Is it one of those new roads in Mayfair?”
She shook her head. “It is in the City, near Cheapside.”
His heart sank at this disclosure. Lady Acaster had mentioned that Miss Bennet’s uncle was in trade. He knew Cheapside to be an area of commerce and shops. Miss Bennet was so often in the presence of her elegant and wealthy aunt that he often forgot her family’s less favourable connexions.
His expression must have communicated some of his dismay, for Miss Bennet added, with challenge in her tone, “I stayed with them for a year before I lived with Lady Acaster. They have a comfortable town house, filled with love and laughter and many raucous cousins.”
Georgiana lifted her head from where she had been resting it on the quilted wall of the carriage. “You never mentioned them to me. They sound wonderful. Why did you leave?”
Lady Acaster interjected. “Mrs Bennet wished for my assistance. I am charged to find Elizabeth a husband—one that lives in Mayfair, preferably.”
Georgiana now looked a great deal more interested in the conversation. “How have we never spoken of this scheme?”
Miss Bennet shifted her weight uncomfortably in her seat. “It is not a conversation I like to have.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “And do you have a beau in London?” She shot a furtive look at Darcy. “We have never spoken of any other man apart from my brother and cousin.”
Miss Bennet did not reply, but Lady Acaster chuckled lightly at this remark before nudging her niece’s ribs. “There is no man in London, but I am sure Elizabeth will have a husband soon enough if I have my way.”
Darcy took Lady Acaster’s words as an insinuation regarding his cousin. Perceiving by Miss Bennet’s expression that she would welcome a change to the conversation, he interjected, “Have you ever visited Lambton?”
“I have not had the pleasure,” Miss Bennet said quickly. “Do you go there often?”
“Not for several months. Not since—” Darcy faltered, his eyes involuntarily seeking his sister’s.
Georgiana worried the edge of her dress in that nervous way that Darcy dreaded. In whispered tones, she said, “For many months before your arrival, my health was poor. My dearest brother took care of me, never journeying too far from my side.”
Lady Acaster raised a brow. “How fortunate you are to have such a man as your brother—attentive, caring, and generous with his time.”
Miss Bennet looked at Darcy with undisguised approval. “Your devotion does you credit.”
Georgiana’s voice shook with admiration. “I cannot fault him.”
All three pairs of eyes were on Darcy; he had never known himself to be more embarrassed.
A glimmer of compassion danced across Miss Bennet’s face. “However, I am sure your brother has faults like any other man. I expect he hides them better than most.”
Lady Acaster tapped Miss Bennet lightly on the knee. “I wonder what you would consider to be Mr Darcy’s flaws?”
Darcy did not miss the glare Miss Bennet threw in her aunt’s direction. He opened his mouth to intervene so that she might be spared the embarrassment of answering, but was completely taken aback by her response.
“The late Mr Darcy once told me that his son was capable of many great things, but being teased was not one of them.”
“When did my father say that?” he replied, astounded.
Miss Bennet bit her lip and said hesitantly, “There would be times when the late Mr Darcy was weak but still wished for company. Georgiana and I would be summoned to his study, where he taught us how to play chess. I remember his remark in response to Georgiana’s question as to why you never smiled. ”
Darcy could picture the twinkle in his father’s eye as he made his joke, bringing to the surface all the other instances where his beloved parent’s dry wit shone through.
A great sense of loss descended. Swallowing away his grief, he was aware of Miss Bennet’s eyes anxiously watching him.
By her worried expression, Darcy sensed that her words were never meant to injure him, and her mouth opened to form an apology.
He sought to reassure her but was interrupted by Lady Acaster. “Well, it is fortuitous that I brought Elizabeth to you, Mr Darcy, for she is adept at teasing. She can teach you how it is done—let us hope she makes a better job of it than of her dancing instruction.”
Now desperate to extract himself from this conversation, Darcy cleared his throat and gestured towards the window. “We are approaching Lambton now. Perhaps you might like to stop and take in the view?”
Miss Bennet bestowed upon him one of her radiant smiles. “That is very thoughtful of you.”
Darcy called for the coachman to stop. With a deafening squeal of wheels against stone, the landau pulled to a jarring halt.
Miss Bennet was jostled about in her seat, and her ankles knocked against Darcy’s boots.
Never had he been more aware of his own body or his proximity to a woman.
I must get out of this damnable carriage.
He descended quickly, his arm outstretched to help the ladies down.
Miss Bennet came out first, her dainty hand fitting perfectly in his own.
The contact between them was brief, but he could not help thinking of what it would be like to press a kiss upon her wrist, and then his body was on fire once more.
With tremendous effort, he turned to help Lady Acaster, whilst all the while completely aware of Miss Bennet.
When at last Georgiana was by his side, they all walked together towards the principal street.
Many people would nod in greeting or give Georgiana a welcoming smile, but it did not escape Darcy’s notice that all heads were turned towards Miss Bennet.
A local youth sauntered past them, a lascivious glint in his eyes as his gaze roamed appreciatively over Miss Bennet’s figure.
Without hesitation, Darcy offered her his arm, drawing her close.
His actions surprised her, for she seemed to have no awareness of her loveliness and had not noticed the danger, but, by her aunt’s grateful nod, Lady Acaster clearly had seen the stranger’s overt admiration.
Ahead of them the street widened to a small parade of shops. Miss Bennet gripped his arm. “Good heavens!” she exclaimed.
Lady Acaster frowned. “What is it?”
“I do believe that it is Martha. She was a maid who was remarkably kind to me when I first arrived in Derbyshire.”
Across the road was a modestly dressed young woman whose face was all too familiar to Darcy. Mrs Stopford. He glanced at Georgiana. She was the last person he wished to make known to their former scullery maid.
Miss Bennet turned those expressive eyes to Darcy. “Would it delay us if I went to speak with her?”
“I do not converse with the servants outside of Pemberley unless there is a compelling reason to do so,” he replied stiffly. This was not the full reason why Darcy wished to avoid Mrs Stopford, but it would do for now.
Disappointment settled over Miss Bennet’s face. “Not even to ask after her health? I have not seen her in many years.”
“I am afraid we would be detained from our appointment.”
Her hold on his arm eased. “I understand.” She gazed wistfully over at the young woman. It was at that moment that Mrs Stopford broke away, her once lovely eyes drifting towards their party. Her gaze met Darcy’s, and she paled.
Acknowledging his former servant with a brief incline of his head, Darcy motioned for them to return to the carriage, insisting Sir Joseph might be offended if they were further delayed.
Darcy hated falsehoods, but this had been a necessary one.
Mrs Stopford was not a woman one would simply introduce to Georgiana—or even Miss Bennet and her aunt.
As they made their way back to the awaiting vehicle, Miss Bennet was unsettlingly silent, her brow pinched.
Darcy helped the women aboard, painfully aware that if Fitzwilliam had been present, his cousin might have found another excuse to avoid engaging Mrs Stopford in conversation—one that did not make him sound so boorish.