Chapter 6
WHERE DARCY ALMOST LOSES HIS TEMPER.
Darcy awoke just before dawn to the steady tempo of a relentless, icy rain pelting the windows of his Mayfair home.
Struggling to swallow his disappointment, he glared at the canopy overhead.
As he was not in the habit of torturing his servants by forcing them to sit atop a carriage in weather unfit for his horses, he would remain in town another day.
As the wind picked up, driving a thick sheet of freezing rain against the side of the house, Darcy muttered an oath and yanked the counterpane over his head.
He did not stir from the warm cocoon of his bed until many hours later. Though the weather had improved, there was still no chance of travelling any great distance that day. A cold, steady rain ensured the roads outside of town would not be serviceable.
As he sat down to a late morning meal, Lord and Lady Carlisle were announced and shown into the breakfast parlour.
Considering the haste in which he had taken his leave the previous night, Darcy was unsurprised.
He laid aside his newspaper, ordered a fresh pot of coffee, and waited for the browbeating to begin. His wait was not long.
Lady Carlisle began without preamble as she accepted a cup of tea from a footman with a peevish countenance.
“Lady Harrow and I were quite put out last night when you and Richard went away so abruptly and, I daresay, so was dear Eliza! I am appalled by all the rushing about you have been doing lately. It is extremely unbecoming.”
Darcy dismissed the servants. “My apologies, Lady Carlisle. I had fixed plans early this morning that have since been delayed due to the weather. I assure you it was not my design to offend.”
The earl harrumphed, but the countess inclined her head, seemingly placated.
“In that case, I trust you will endeavour to arrive in Park Street this evening in excellent time and remain there for the duration of her ladyship’s party.
I also expect to see you smile more. You are a handsome young man with the entire world laid out at your feet, yet you rarely smile when in company, particularly in the company of ladies. I cannot imagine why you would not.”
A feeling of foreboding settled in Darcy’s stomach. “Lady Harrow is hosting an evening party?”
“Fear not, Nephew,” said the earl with a sardonic smirk. “Only the most eligible ladies have been issued invitations. You need not concern yourself with their suitability, only the size of their dowries.”
Rolling his eyes, Darcy helped himself to some toast. “I fear you are mistaken. I cannot recall receiving any such invitation from her ladyship. It is likely she does not mean to include me in her scheme.”
“But of course she does,” his aunt insisted.
“Really, Darcy! You know Lady Harrow is fond of you, and Lady Eliza admires you exceedingly! All our closest friends will be there, and Richard as well.” She levelled a stern look at him.
“I am warning you now—do not so much as attempt to monopolise his attention for your personal amusement. This evening Richard shall spend his time more productively by applying himself to Miss Veronica Morrison’s entertainment.
You would do well to emulate his efforts by devoting yourself to Lady Eliza in a similar fashion. ”
“Begging your pardon, Aunt, but this is the first intelligence I have received of any such obligation for this evening. Are you quite certain my attendance is expected?”
“For heaven’s sake, do not be obtuse,” said the countess with an irritated huff. “Lady Harrow informed me herself of her intention to include you in the party. The invitation is most likely adrift amongst that unsightly mountain of correspondence you have piled in your study.”
“There are currently no unopened letters on my desk other than what may have arrived this morning. Therefore, I cannot share your confidence, madam.”
“The invitations were only sent out this morning,” said Lady Carlisle exasperatedly. “It is an impromptu affair, intimate, to be sure, but the epitome of elegance. It is not an occasion to be missed. I understand Eliza is to play her harp.”
Darcy stared at her. “Not only must Lady Harrow’s household be in utter chaos, but the weather is undeniably wretched as well. I doubt it will suitably improve by this evening, at least not so much as to label her party the success she wishes.”
Lord Carlisle snorted as he reached for a muffin.
“Not all of us are as soft with our staff as you are, Nephew. Servants are servants. They are paid to do what they are bid, not what is agreeable to them. Lady Harrow’s minions always manage to rise to whatever occasion is at hand.
If they did not, she would never keep them on, and they damn well know it.
As far as the weather, none of the ladies included in the party will allow this insignificant drizzle to keep them at home, not when there are eligible young men to receive them.
Surely you are not afraid of a little rain? ”
Darcy bit back a bitter retort. “Hardly, but I must decline. I am engaged to spend this evening with friends. I trust you will convey my regret to Lady Harrow when you see her.”
Though he abhorred disguise, Darcy saw no harm in employing a bit of deception in this case.
He would call upon Bingley later to discuss the delay in their plans, but beyond that he had little to do that day and no fixed engagements for the evening.
Dining with Lady Eliza, her mother, and their insipid friends would be a punishment, especially after being denied the bittersweet pleasure of calling upon Elizabeth.
God willing, Darcy would be in Hertfordshire by mid-afternoon tomorrow and dancing with Elizabeth Bennet by eight o’clock tomorrow night.
“What do you mean you are already engaged?” his aunt demanded with some distress. “We have been invited to dine at Chadwick House! Certainly, you can put these other people off until another time.”
“I am afraid that will be impossible,” said Darcy, spreading jam on his toast. “I am travelling to Hertfordshire tomorrow, presumably at first light.”
Lord Carlisle frowned. “You mentioned nothing to me about having any business in that part of the country. How long do you expect to be gone?”
“I am not yet certain. My friend Bingley is to marry a local lady within a fortnight, but I hope to remain in the area until Christmas, when I join Georgiana at Pemberley.”
The countess frowned with distaste. “Really, Darcy, I thought you would have given up that acquaintance by now. I must admit I never understood your desire to associate with such a family. There is absolutely no advantage to be gained by your knowing them. Any benefit from the connexion is all on their side.”
“Bingley and I have been friends since Eton. I could not ask for a better one. He is now well-established in society and has taken possession of a fine estate, Netherfield Park. He is in every facet of his conduct a gentleman and I am proud to know him.”
Lady Carlisle laughed sardonically. “What of his sisters? Do they conduct themselves as gentlewomen? The eldest, married off to that drunken dandy when she was barely of age? And do not get me started on the youngest! There cannot be too little said on that subject, for it is hardly friendship she seeks from you, or any other gentleman of means for that matter. The whole family is interested only in what they can get. Their nature is entirely mercenary, and you are woefully na?ve if you believe otherwise.”
“My parents never saw anything to object to in my friendship with Charles Bingley,” said Darcy with mounting annoyance. “My mother was fond of him.”
“And in that respect your dear parents were fools. Of course, they could not possibly issue any objection to your so-called friendship with the upstart son of a rich tradesman when the son of Old Wickham, your father’s steward, was forever with you at Pemberley.
” Lady Carlisle wore a mocking expression as she raised her teacup to her lips.
“I believe we all know how well that boy turned out.”
“There can be no comparison between the two,” Darcy charged as he tossed his napkin aside and drove the tip of his index finger onto the table for emphasis.
“While one man is wholly respectable, honourable, and good in everything he does, the other has chosen to pursue the path of a debauched reprobate. You do my friend a gross injustice.”
“That is enough,” said the earl sternly.
“However much we disapprove of such connexions, it is done. I shall not begrudge you your friendship with the man. Bingley has stood by you for many years. He saw you through the loss of your parents, and your loyalty to him does you credit. But I digress—there is a matter of significant import I came to address today and address it I shall, once and for all.”
Of course, Darcy thought resentfully, bristling under his uncle’s reprimand. Of course, there is some other purpose for this morning’s inconvenience.
Though Darcy was a grown man and master of a vast estate, the earl believed neither age, nor means alone gave any man the right to make his own choices, not so long as certain familial obligations remained unfulfilled.
Only after he had secured his future—taken a wife and sired an heir or two to ensure the continuation of his bloodline—did a man earn the right to follow his own course.
As for the institution of marriage, Lord Carlisle may have been be a proponent of it, but he by no means held it sacred. He considered fidelity to be something a man owed to other men and to God; not a solemn vow made in earnest at the altar and kept for the sake of a wife.
“No doubt,” Lord Carlisle began sourly, “no doubt, you recall my dissatisfaction with the preferences you professed last week when Richard and I called upon you. I have no idea what has gotten into you over the last several months but, God Almighty, I intend to find out.