Chapter 2 An Extraordinarily Popular Guest #2
Before long, Mr. Boyle joined us. I queried him, consulting my list of prepared topics.
With his hands clasped in a tight ball and his eyes crinkled, Mr. Boyle described the plight of the tenants under his care and expressed his frustration with his employer, who refused to spend the funds necessary for repairs to the tenants’ homes.
Mr. Boyle sought a new position due to his inability to provide relief to the tenants.
His evident compassion impressed me. I should not hire an unfeeling man for this position, regardless of his experience or knowledge.
We had progressed to a discussion of land leases when movement at the edge of my vision prompted me to turn towards the angel, and Mr. Boyle’s words broke off in the middle of a sentence. Graham stood and waved his hands in a bid for my notice. What did he want now?
“Darcy, pray excuse the interruption.” Graham’s weight shifted from one heel to the other. “I believe I shall venture outdoors. I am inclined to wander around your marvellous estate.”
As I had predicted, he had grown tired of our conversation. “That is a fine idea.” Good riddance to you. With a curt nod to Graham, I turned back to Mr. Boyle and bade him to finish his reply.
After the door to the study closed and the sound of footfalls grew fainter, the stiffness in my posture relented.
I had already managed to become wearisome to the angel.
Did I dare to hope Graham would cut short his visit and act upon my suggestion of finding an actor or dandy in London with whom to stay in my stead?
Graham
I opened the front door as Elizabeth approached the vehicle. Descending the steps two at a time, I sent her a silent command: Wait for me. Her steps slowed, providing me sufficient time to close the distance between us. “Elizabeth.”
She spun towards me, offering a magnificent smile.
“Good day, Graham.” As in the previous times we shared company, the mere sight of her wrought a foreign effect upon me—a strange giddiness that eroded my poise.
Never before had I been so utterly disarmed nor so eager to continue in that state.
If I did not know better, I should suspect her of being a fellow angel.
Absorbed by her unaffected charm, I found my usual supply of pleasantries to be beyond my reach.
No wonder Darcy had fallen for her. Could any mortal resist the opportunity to bask in her shining bloom?
Thank the stars I did not suffer the many defects and weaknesses common to humans—otherwise, I might have been at risk of becoming vulnerable to her allurement.
At any rate, she must wonder why I had sought her out.
“Would you mind if I joined you? I have a great desire to see the town of Lambton.”
A teasing gleam danced within her luminous orbs. “I understood you to be keeping company with my husband. Did you not find the interview with a prospective new steward informative?”
My expression took a sheepish turn. “Oh, without doubt. Still, I could not resist the tempting prospect of travelling to a new town with a lovely guide like you.”
The mirth in her visage diminished, even as a pleasing infusion of colour overspread her cheeks. “You are welcome to join me.” Her speech, though, sounded more perfunctory than warm.
Perhaps I ought to temper my avidity. We entered the open carriage and set out towards Lambton. I sat at an angle, the better for which to view her, and she presented a most enticing vision. In fact, I spared not a glance to the verdant countryside.
Elizabeth's sight settled upon me. “If you do not mind, I should like to hear about your life in Calabria. I am curious how it differs from England.”
Her dulcet query pulled me from my study of her long, ebony lashes.
“It would be my pleasure to satisfy your curiosity on this or any other subject.” I drew from the memories of the man whose body I had borrowed to describe in scrupulous detail a merry existence with plenty of social engagements and diverse entertainments.
Of course, given the Lothario’s proclivities, I could not mention all the activities favoured by the deceased.
The perfect listener, Elizabeth inclined towards me in an attitude of assiduous interest, and the questions she posed revealed an intelligent mind. As I provided her with answers, a peculiar cramp afflicted my chest and restricted my respiration.
A novel comprehension enlightened me, bringing my cheery commentary to an abrupt end: without question, the primary source of Darcy’s happiness, despite his being rich, well connected, rather handsome, and blessed with a healthy son, must be his entrancing wife.
Without Elizabeth’s profound influence upon him, Darcy would not have struck me as remarkable; almost everything significant to his current existence emanated from her.
Therefore, I should spend at least as much time with her as with Darcy.
I must witness this force within her and the way she wielded this power upon her husband and others.
Of course, Darcy would be apt to object to my amended purpose. If he did…well, he had no choice in the matter.
Lambton
Elizabeth
Due to Fitzwilliam’s standing and the importance of his estate to the community, I had grown accustomed to a certain amount of scrutiny from the locals.
But the attention Graham and I received as we progressed along the high street exceeded anything in my experience.
More people promenaded upon the cobblestoned thoroughfare on this day than on any of my prior visits.
It seemed the entire local population had the same intention at once—at least the female residents, for they outnumbered the males by five to one.
Many of the ladies rushed towards us, greeted me, and eagerly accepted introductions to my dashing companion.
The lack of an acquaintance, though, failed to deter the others from drawing near—a succession of strangers veered towards us with the apparent aim of obtaining a closer look at the mysterious man at my side—not that his identity would remain unknown for long.
The ladies who obtained introductions to Graham formed conferences with others on the street.
Ere long, everyone in Lambton and beyond would be aware that Mr. Darcy’s friend Mr. Graham visited the area from Calabria and walked out in public with Mrs. Darcy.
In time, the constant surveillance eroded my tranquillity.
When we persevered to the haberdashery, I fought the urge to hunch my back and hide behind Graham’s bulkier frame to shield me from the prying eyes of others in the shop.
In London, the simple act of shopping on the arm of a charming stranger could prompt rumours of an illicit liaison, but these townspeople would not suspect me of such base activity, would they? No, of course not.
We left the shop to find the street much less crowded than before, and my qualms dissipated.
“This is a charming town.” Graham tipped his hat at a pair of young female passersby. “Do you and Darcy come here often?”
“Yes, and once a month or so, we may go to Buxton or Bakewell, for they are—"
In a blur of movement, a gentleman propelled from the post office with unseemly haste, colliding with Graham and compelling us into a violent halt.
The man jerked backwards and scowled at Graham.
“Damn it. Take care how you go!” I flinched at the familiar, obscene voice, and every part of me tensed.
The ruffian who accosted Graham, Mr. Andrew Oakley, bore the responsibility for the unfortunate encounter—no one who witnessed the incident could think otherwise.
One day, the hateful man would inherit a prosperous local estate, and I had seldom met a less deserving heir.
In an admirable show of tolerance for the unwarranted and profane outburst, Graham maintained an amicable demeanour. “Pray excuse me, good sir.”
I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from expressing my outrage. Mr. Oakley counted among the few unpleasant people who lived in the area. The smug, arrogant, and rude man never failed to ogle at me with a disgusting gleam in his eyes. Upon my word, he turned my stomach!
Mr. Oakley stood erect with his chest out and his chin high.
His right hand clutched his left upper arm, and the limb hung at an odd angle, as though injured.
“Yes, well, you ought to pay better attention to where you are going in future.” Upon shifting towards me, he started, and his eyes grew wide. “Mrs. Darcy.”
I attempted to appear impassive. “Mr. Oakley.”
He glanced around us. “Is Mr. Darcy not with you?”
“As you can see, he is not here.”
With his lips curled into a sneer, Mr. Oakley’s gaze skimmed over Graham from head to toe as one might appraise a horse at auction. My pulse rate soared, and the disadvantage to Graham’s eye-catching and ostentatious choice of attire had never been clearer.
An offensive noise akin to a grunt escaped with Mr. Oakley’s exhalation. “I suppose Mr. Darcy’s absence works to your advantage. After all, you must be familiar with the saying, ‘one’s too few, three’s too many.’ He would only be in the way.” His wolfish leer bored into me, and I shuddered.
The audacity of the man! How dare he make such a vile insinuation?
One day I should be pleased to relate my opinion of him, but not now.
It would be undignified to make a public scene, and I should not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had upset me.
“You must excuse us, for we are pressed for time.”
“Then I shall leave you both to carry on with your…affairs.” Mr. Oakley tipped his hat in a mocking fashion and stamped away.
With narrowed eyes, Graham followed Mr. Oakley’s departure. “What a singularly disagreeable fellow.”
“He is indeed. I am sorry to say Mr. Oakley’s conduct did not present an aberration.”
“Ah, is Oakley his name?”
“Yes, Mr. Andrew Oakley.”