Chapter 4 #2
Heiress Tottle, a little white barn cat and excellent mouser that the judge had taken in and given free rein of the villa, wound round Darcy’s legs as he leant against the door-jamb of the villa’s library.
Inside the room, Hector, huge head on huge paws, settled at Georgiana’s feet while she and her friend stood at a bookshelf exclaiming over the titles Darcy had bought with the two young ladies in mind.
“Look here.” Georgiana’s hand rested upon two books. “We have Belinda. And Evelina, too.”
Miss Althea squealed when she spotted Sense and Sensibility, then held one of the novel’s volumes against her heart. “Shall we take turns reading it aloud together?”
“Excellent idea, my friend. And thank you, Brother.”
“You are most welcome, little hen.” After gesturing for the girls to sit, he followed suit. A little bell on her collar jingling, Heiress Tottle jumped to the sofa, curled up on Darcy’s lap, and loudly purred. Hector lumbered over to Georgiana, heaved a sigh, and again settled at her feet.
“Now, ladies, both of you must promise that I shall not always find you cooped up here in the library. There is equipment for lawn games and archery. There are cutting gardens and empty vases in need of floral arrangements. The horses will appreciate being exercised, and there will be many opportunities hereabouts for you to observe and admire nature. You brought your paints and whatnot, I trust.” They confirmed that they had.
“Then I shall expect a number of lovely watercolours—landscapes, flowers, and such—with which to grace these barren walls.”
Still clutching the treasured volume, Miss Althea asked, “How else may we entertain ourselves, sir?”
A full range of diversions had already been discussed during their travels, but Darcy patiently replied.
“The stone steps to the beach have been deemed safe by Mr Ansel, the land steward. So you could walk along the shore each fine day. There may be seashells or fossils to collect, rock-pools to investigate, and passing boats to watch. You might even catch sight of marine mammals—dolphins, porpoises, seals, or whales.”
“I seem to remember Papa mentioning that Uncle Darcy owned a boat here. May we go sailing?”
“Do not excite yourself, my dear, for we do not own a seaworthy vessel. However, there are two punts tied to the dock on Willow Bourn, which serves as the boundary behind both our property and that of the Bakers. Such small boats would be unsafe for the Channel, but we might be able to navigate through the wetland.”
“May we invite our neighbours for a picnic? Mrs Carter informed me that two young ladies have arrived at Cliff House.”
“Ah, one must be the orphaned niece who has come to live with them, but I have no idea who the other lady might be. I made a start on the correspondence awaiting my attention, and the Bakers have invited us to dine when we are settled. I have accepted on behalf of our entire party, so you will be acquainted with them soon and, perhaps, become friends with the two young ladies.”
A clatter of hoofs and harnesses followed by a hubbub of voices had Miss Althea casting aside the book and hurrying to the window. “Finally! ’Tis Papa’s carriage.”
Oh joy. At least we may soon have dinner.
Darcy gently set the cat upon the floor, then rushed to greet his guests, thankful that James, Mr Horace Wright’s heir, had declined the invitation.
The young man was far too fond of gaming and carousing, and there were rumours about his father’s dwindling wealth.
Amongst the awaiting stacks of correspondence, Darcy expected to find a report from his man of business regarding the family’s state of affairs.
While Mrs Carter supervised the Wrights’ arrival and Heiress Tottle fled from them, Darcy perceived his guests were in no better humour than he had been. But his own spirits had improved once out of the carriage and having been served refreshments.
“By Jove, Darcy, why the devil did you not put this place up for purchase when you inherited it? Not that anyone in their right mind would choose to live here.”
“Papa!” Miss Wright shot her father a murderous glare.
While a footman took his coat, Mr Wright continued grumbling. “We had the devil of a time finding our way through this fog.”
“Once the sun shines,” said Miss Margaret, “I am certain we shall fall madly in love with Strandsmere.”
“Stranded-here would be a more apt name for a place like this.”
Ignoring her father’s scorn, Darcy bowed over Miss Wright’s hand.
“Oh, sir, how dreadful it was to be lost in that frightful fog! So impatiently did I anticipate being admitted into your society again that I thought I might perish.”
Perish the thought. Darcy glanced at the vestibule clock. Only a matter of hours had elapsed since they had all been together at the Pot & Kettle. “I am delighted, madam, that such was not your fate.”
Once the newcomers were divested of outer garments, Mrs Carter ushered them to their rooms, where they could refresh themselves and dress for dinner.
Mr Wright returned within half an hour, but his two eldest daughters took twice as long.
Meeting the ladies at the end of the passage, Darcy offered an arm to Miss Wright and Miss Margaret, and they went through to the dining room where his sister and Miss Althea eagerly awaited a delayed dinner.
Upon being seated beside Georgiana, Miss Wright exclaimed, “Dear girl! I shall not conceal what a pleasure the very sight of you has afforded me. Finally, my forbearance has been rewarded, and we are all gathered together again, as we should be.”
Darcy enquired of Mr Wright how they had finally found their way to Strandsmere.
“We ended up at a place called Cliff House. According to my coachman, before he had a chance to knock at the front door, a male servant opened it for a pretty young lady on her way out. When my driver asked for direction to Strandsmere, she introduced herself as Miss Elizabeth Benson and told him that she had just arrived herself and did not know the way. She excused herself and set off on a walk. The servant then described the best route to travel over here.” Mr Wright slurped his mock turtle soup before continuing.
“As we left, I saw the lady going towards the clifftop, a foolhardy destination in this restricted visibility.”
Darcy agreed. “She must have been the Bakers’ orphaned niece.”
“Perhaps.” Miss Wright gave a little shrug of one shoulder. “However, Papa, our coachman said Bennet, not Benson.”
What? Darcy could not have heard properly. Heart racing, he awaited a reply, then realised he had not spoken aloud. Just as he was about to do so, Miss Wright spoke again.
“And, despite what my father thinks, the young lady was not at all pretty. Terribly brown and coarse, in fact. Not that it matters a groat.”
“You are correct, my dear.” Mr Wright leant back while a footman removed his soup plate. “She looked either ill or ill at ease.”
“Miss Wright, do you mean to say that the young lady’s name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet?
” Be still, my heart! Darcy’s hand shook as he served the lady a portion of sole, freshly caught in the Bristol Channel.
Could Miss Elizabeth be the orphaned niece?
Has something happened to Mr and Mrs Bennet?
Is it too much to hope that her family is well and that she is merely visiting the Bakers for some reason and that we may renew our acquaintance?
“Yes, I am certain that is what I heard.” Taking up her fish fork, Miss Wright observed him closely. “Why, sir? Do you know her?”
“Brother, is that not the name of the young lady you wrote to me about? The one who stayed at Netherfield Park while you were there. You seemed rather taken with her.”
Georgiana had the grace to blush when Darcy shot her a look of annoyance, wondering why she had chosen that moment to speak in more than monosyllables.
Upon stealing a sidelong glance at Miss Wright, who held a forkful of sole halfway to her mouth, he nearly recoiled at the strong emotion dripping from her lovely blue eyes. Good God! Could that be jealousy I just perceived therein?
A memory niggled in Darcy’s mind. Someone spoke to me about her possessiveness and treatment of other young ladies who attempt to lay claim to me.
But from whom did that questionable piece of advice come?
Ah, yes, of course. Miss Bingley. She accosted me at Mrs Hurst’s musicale.
‘So, Mr Darcy, I hear you are quite delighted with the company of the eldest Miss Wright. Now, sir, as your most devoted friend, I feel that I must caution you. There are rumours that, after you stood up with them at the Harrisons’ ball, the two Miss Bonhams and Miss Dunn were belittled and ostracised by your spiteful auburn-haired admirer.
I fear she is naught but a desperate, grasping—’ And that is when Miss Wright herself had come rushing towards us.
Tucking into his own portion of poached sole, Darcy silently scoffed. I cannot countenance gossip. And the desperate, grasping Miss Bingley’s dubious warning cannot be given credit. It is to be dismissed as naught but a symptom of her own covetousness.