Chapter Seven
6 January, 1813
Bolswick Abbey, Derbyshire
Darcy had always enjoyed Christmastide as a youth, especially when his Fitzwilliam relations hosted the annual family gathering. Finding himself desperate for the festivities to be over was a new and upsetting sensation for him. He was not pining for the quiet emptiness of Pemberley, only for some escape from his present disenchantment. He wished to be away, to pretend that it had never happened, that his hopes had not been dashed and twisted into bitter disappointment.
He had scarcely had a moment alone with Anne in the last fortnight. She had written to him as recently as the day before he departed Pemberley, reassuring him that her anticipation was as great as his own, for since their engagement they had only seen one another once. In fifteen months, there had been one brief visit, as he passed through London that summer to bring Georgiana to Lymington. They had walked in the park, he had repeated the same stories of his time in Scotland that he had detailed in his letters, and they had said little else under the overbearing chaperonage of her mother.
This visit was meant to be a romantic reunion, for Darcy knew winter to be her favorite season, and he had hoped that the presence of so much family might offer Lady Catherine enough distraction for him to steal some precious time alone with Anne. Instead, she took ill after the first day’s festivities, a sleigh ride he had organized especially for her, though it had seemed more of a penance than a pleasure for Anne. She remained abed for a week, seeing nobody but the physician, her loyal maid Miss Lovelace, and despite Anne’s own wishes, Lady Catherine herself.
The second week had been little better. Anne’s health was restored – or rather, it was what it ever had been. She was perhaps more prone to taking ill than anybody else in the robust Fitzwilliam family, but then Darcy had always supposed her illness to be either an excuse of Anne’s to avoid her mother, or an excuse of Lady Catherine’s to suppress Anne’s willfulness, depending on the occasion. There seemed to be a great deal of both that year, for Lady Catherine had taken up the idea of making Anne a countess.
Poor Rupert – his first wife had died a year into their marriage, and another year after that he lost his father, the late Earl of Matlock. Lord Rupert Fitzwilliam had dutifully observed a year in mourning, had lamented the loss of his father and the burden of his new responsibilities – and then he had come out of mourning and experienced a sudden popularity amongst the ton that had, unfortunately, exposed how easily led he was. And Lady Catherine de Bourgh had begun to consider leading him toward her daughter. She denied it, of course, but Darcy trusted the word of his cousin Richard, who had only the best intentions when poking his nose into Rupert’s affairs.
Rupert had no intention of betraying Darcy over what he deemed a lackluster match, but his sister Roberta had aligned herself with the agenda Lady Catherine would not own to, showing a sudden interest in Anne after a lifetime of dismissing her as insipid.
The Twelfth Night Ball, being a masquerade, ought to have offered Anne and Darcy some reprieve from the machinations of Lady Catherine and Roberta, for Richard and Georgiana had done little to help the couple. Darcy and Anne ought to have had a whole blissful evening of dancing together, disappearing into the crowd, and perhaps even sneaking away for some innocent but blissful solitude. Instead, she had sprained her ankle in the first set. She again sequestered herself, seeing only her maid while Darcy was obliged to attend the festivities without her.
The following morning, Darcy was determined to make one final attempt to woo his lady properly; he planned a picnic in the orangery. Richard and Georgiana had refractorily agreed to serve as a buffer between the couple and the rest of their relations, and Rupert had obliged him by ordering all of Anne’s favorite refreshments to be served.
When Darcy inquired after her ankle, Anne gave a heavy sigh. “Mother will likely use my injury as an excuse to trespass further on Rupert’s hospitality, though I am surely capable of spending a few days seated in a carriage.”
Darcy watched her take a tiny bite of a lemon tart and set it aside with a grimace. “I hope she has not persuaded you to consider….” He nodded his head to indicate their cousin Rupert.
“I should loathe the responsibilities of being a countess, and I have told her so in the harshest language I dare,” Anne replied with a sympathetic smile. “Besides, I should infinitely prefer to marry for love.”
Darcy covered her hand with his own. “Shall I press her once more to set a date for our wedding? If you have not tired of shopping in Matlock and Derby with Roberta, you might stop in London for your trousseau on your journey back to Kent.”
“I am sure I could never tire of shopping, though I wish you had accompanied us. Your wardrobe is so austere! I am sure nobody would think less of your intelligence and somber dignity if you were to acquire a few coats and waistcoats that were more à la mode.”
Darcy made a droll face, taking her flippant criticism for the same teasing banter he enjoyed in her letters. Anne had never cared much for fashion before, and he hoped this was not the influence of their superficial cousin. Rather, he preferred to consider that it might signify some maturity, a readiness to take on the role of mistress of Pemberley. As his wife, she would be required to think of such things, from redecorating the manor to her own tastes, to donning the latest fashions when moving in society for the preservation of their family’s reputation and status. It was naive indeed to think of clothing only as a silly and frivolous hobby.
“I am perfectly willing to consider a new coat and waistcoat, whatever you think is finest, when we set a date for the wedding.”
Anne shrugged her shoulders, letting out a serene, noncommittal hum. “I should rather wait until summer to wed. Everything is better in summertime, is it not?”
He chuckled. “Have you tired of the snow already? I thought you would be enamored of a northern winter.”
“I shall never have the enthusiasm you must have developed after spending all your winters at Pemberley, but I shall have to do my best,” she chided him with a shake of her head. “Perhaps a hothouse would be just the thing.”
“We shall build one with your dowry – the biggest orangery anybody has ever seen, filled with all the plants you love best, and you shall choose the site for it.” Darcy sat up straighter, his chest filling with pride as this elicited a bright smile from her.
“We might make it large enough to throw parties in, what do you say to that?”
“I know you are fonder of society than I am, but I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours. Indeed, I shall quite depend upon you, when you serve as hostess in my homes – I am sure I wanted your fervor for observing the folly of the neighbors at the Harvest Ball in October. Your pleasure in lively society will make the tradition a more bearable one at Pemberley.”
He expected her to laugh at his reference to the fumbling buffoon he had made of himself when last he had entertained at Pemberley. It had been his first year of managing the event without Bingley’s affability to outshine his own awkwardness, for his friend would not be parted from his wife and newborn daughter in Hertfordshire. Darcy had cherished very high hopes of his fiancée presiding over the event at his side, but she had been swept up in her new friendship with Roberta, and he could not begrudge his beloved the female friendship she had long desired.
“I hope we shall not neglect Rosings, though Mother would like nothing better,” Anne said with a sigh.
“Of course. We might stay there half the year, and the other half at Pemberley, if you wish.”
“And half the year in London, too. I know you dislike it, but surely you would not deprive Georgiana of the opportunity.”
If Georgiana had been seated with them, she would have likely pointed out that this was the first time in the entire fortnight of their visit that Anne had so much as mentioned her future sister-in-law. Darcy frowned at his sister’s intrusion into his mind. “Georgiana would no doubt prefer to spend a third of the year at the seaside, rather than in town.”
There was a twinkle of mirth in Anne’s eye as she replied, “That would certainly prove an interesting way to find a husband.”
And that was the last time Darcy had seen her smile.
***
5 June, 1813
Sunset Ballroom, Sanditon, Sussex
Darcy had never imagined he could despise the sound of Anne’s laughter, but it was torture to him when Sir Sidney Parker was the cause of it. She was seated across the table from Darcy, with Sir Sidney on one side of her, and Miss Lovelace on her other side, fairly falling all over her mistress as she, too, laughed at Sir Sidney.
While Darcy pondered the distinct possibility that Sir Sidney had his hand on Anne’s leg under the table, Richard sat at his side, muttering under his breath. “Well Darcy, are you not glad we came to Sanditon?”
“Of course I am,” Darcy replied stonily. He was not opposed to admitting when he was wrong, though he seldom had cause to do so. But in this instance, he was right to persist in his purpose. “Now that I have seen this fellow with my own eyes, it is perfectly evident that he is a fortune hunter who has targeted an inexperienced heiress to get his hands on her estate when she comes of age.”
According to the terms of the late Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s will, his daughter Anne would inherit Rosings and a considerable fortune upon her twenty-fifth birthday, an event only three months away. Darcy seriously doubted that Sir Sidney could go so long without exposing himself as a villain, a seducer, and a thoroughly debauched libertine. Anne was not without the wit to see through such a blackguard, especially when Darcy was there to show her how a gentleman – and one who was truly in love with a woman – behaved himself.
Richard chuckled, took a sip of wine, and then gave Darcy a wary look. “I suppose Anne, who has never known such novelty and indulgence in all her life, will suddenly come to her senses, eh? She shall forsake the charismatic magnetism of her new suitor and capitulate to the tyranny of her mother for the ten thousandth time, even on the verge of having her freedom once and for all?”
Darcy bristled at his cousin. “She will remember her feelings for me,” he hissed. “I may not be as flashy and flirtatious as this fellow, but we share something far more substantial between us.” He would say no more about the matter, not in the middle of a crowded dinner party, with Anne seated only six feet away.
She caught his eye across the table and smiled at him, but it was not like the bright, infatuated smiles she bestowed on Sir Sidney; her eyes held apology and not affection. And that was all – in the next moment her attention turned back to Sir Sidney, who had begun to regale the rest of the table with tales of his equestrian exploits.
Darcy waited for Anne to tire of this subject, which had never interested her, but she was more voluble than Darcy could remember ever seeing her. “Sir Sidney has such a fine seat, I have never seen anything like it. Truly a bold rider, and his Arabian is unrivalled. Such speed, such flawless leaps! He rode splendidly at Newmarket in October,” she said to the couple seated on the other side of Sir Sidney.
“But not as well as your cousin; he defeated me soundly – and then to discover my own brother Arthur had bet against me – he made a fortune from Matlock’s triumph.” Sir Sidney nudged Anne’s shoulder with his own as he hooted with raucous laughter.
“So, he is one of your brother’s new set,” Darcy growled, resting an accusatory gaze on Richard.
“Poor Rupert,” Richard drawled. “Shall I write to my brother and inquire what he knows about this fellow? Perhaps we might uncover something salacious to put her off him.”
Darcy shook his head in disgust. He had no wish to win Anne back through such a devious method, and as he suspected this was all some scheme of rebellion to punish her mother, any scandalous revelations about Sir Sidney would likely push Anne further into the cad’s arms.
He lapsed into a protracted silence as he considered his present plight, though he remained peripherally aware of the conversation around him – Anne and Sir Sidney meant visit Sir Thomas’s stables at Trafalgar House, they would tour the site where a racing track was almost complete, they would find Anne a proper pony and spend countless hours riding. Anne even meant to have a new riding habit made to match the fine puce coat Sir Sidney had worn at Newmarket.
After what felt like a thousand interminable hours, the first course was cleared away, which served as a cue for the guests to quit their present companions. He was happy to do so, and he scanned the crowd of people chatting gaily as they milled about before selecting a new place for the second course. He wondered if there was any point in sitting with Anne again, when she would surely attach herself to Sir Sidney all evening. But then Lady Catherine appeared, headed in their direction; Sir Sidney bowed to Anne and declared he could no longer shirk his social responsibilities to the community.
At some point, Richard had become a more active participant in the conversation, leaving Darcy to his own pathetic ruminations. Now, he seized Darcy by the shoulder, his face full of excitement. “Darcy, did you hear that? Bevan! That was Marjorie Bevan, the sensational novelist our sisters are always carrying on about, and her husband Ezra Bevan – I believe he is a poet or a playwright or something. I suppose we would have known sooner if Sir Sidney had introduced us properly. But we must bring Georgie to them – though better not tell her Anne only babbled on about horse racing, or there will be an act of violence before dessert is served.”
The couple in question was now bidding Anne good evening before they stalked away. Anne, who was a voracious reader, had met a wildly popular authoress, and rather than discussing her own pursuits, she had spoken only of what interested Sir Sidney Parker. How utterly disappointing.
“Darcy? Darcy? Blockhead extraordinaire?” Richard snapped his fingers at Darcy, who only gave him a distracted frown. “If you are not going to listen to anything I say, I shall leave you to the agony of our aunt’s attention.”
Darcy’s head snapped up, and in a moment of alacrity he blurted out the first thought that entered his head. “This is all Lady Catherine’s doing, to be sure; so, too, must the remedy be.”
Richard gave a low chuckle and shook his head. “You wish to make Lady Catherine dislike you? If Pemberley burning to the ground has not curdled her esteem, I cannot imagine what could possibly repel her.”
But it had, Darcy realized. That was when the letters had stopped. Had Lady Catherine prevented Anne from corresponding with him, forced her to sever the engagement? Rupert was still unattached; his aunt may yet cherish some hopes of seeing her daughter made a countess, with a grand estate for Anne to preside over, leaving Rosings firmly in Lady Catherine’s grasp. And only now, with Sir Sidney interested in acquiring an estate and a fortune to accompany his new title – a man who would encourage Anne to pack her mother away at the dower house at the earliest opportunity – well, now Darcy was back in favor.
They were approached by Sir Edward Gardiner, who shook hands warmly with them. “I hope you gentlemen are enjoying the food and the company very well this evening.”
“When the matchmaking mothers of London hear about your clever little musical chairs dining party, I am sure it will become quite a craze,” Richard quipped.
“Then I suppose it will not surprise you that I cannot take credit for the idea myself – my late wife was the genius behind most of the Tremont’s present triumphs.”
Richard guffawed. “I am of the opinion that women run the world, and have kindly allowed us the privilege of remaining ignorant to that universal truth.”
“My dear Madeline used to say quite the same thing!”
“It was a favorite expression of my late mother’s,” Darcy supplied, though he was not quite sure how much of a smile he ought to give when speaking of a rather sad topic.
“You are a Darcy of Pemberley! Ah, but that accounts for it. My wife grew up in Derbyshire – in the village of Lambton. I believe it is very near Pemberley. Her mother was the vicar’s wife, and she was sometimes invited to tea with the lady of the manor.”
“Mrs. and Miss Tremont? Oh, yes, of course. They were both excellent women.” Darcy was struck speechless at the sudden surge of respect he felt for Sir Edward, who had named this beautiful hotel for the woman he had loved and lost – the enormity of such a gesture, of what a romantic and devoted connection they must have shared. Sir Edward’s eyes glistened with emotion as the two men shared a look of absolute understanding.
A smartly dressed young lady with raven hair and a penetrating gaze joined them. “Excellent women? I really must intrude on such a captivating conversation; Sir Edward, will you introduce me?”
The affable hotelier did so with evident pleasure, presenting Miss Esther Denham, niece of the local dowager. She curtseyed, her gaze barely sweeping over Richard before fixing on Darcy. “I have just met your sister, whom I should be happy to know better. I have found that too many young ladies come to Sanditon with ulterior motives, but I do not think she is one of them. Her manners are open and artless.”
There was no false flattery in Miss Denham’s frank observation, and so Darcy gave her a gracious nod. “As her guardian, I must thank you, Miss Denham.”
“I wonder, do you suppose it is easier or more difficult because of the disparity in your ages? My late brother was only a year older than myself, and it often seemed that I was the one raising him.”
Darcy knew not how to reply to such candor, but Richard appeared intrigued. “Your late brother? My condolences, Miss Denham. If my sister Lady Roberta were here, she would probably tell your that you are welcome to any number of her brothers – I have no doubt she thinks us all boorish babies.”
“Hmm.” Miss Denham’s lips quirked upward in what was almost a laugh as she continued to assess the pair of cousins before her. “My brother did something illegal, and met his end as the immoral often do. His heir, Sir Anthony, is just over there flirting with Miss Bennet. He is kind and gregarious, but his circumstances shall require him to think practically. However, I believe Miss Darcy is quite safe from him. We have not long been acquainted – if I ever meet your sister Lady Roberta, I hope it shall be when I am better informed to decide if an exchange of relatives is advisable.” Her eyes twinkled with wry humor, and the odd creature at last gave them the trace of a smile.
Darcy scanned the room and saw a gentleman who bore a striking resemblance to Miss Denham; Sir Anthony was indeed recommending himself to Miss Bennet, and seemed so fixated on her that he paid Georgiana no notice at all. Richard was now answering Miss Denham’s onslaught of questions, and so Darcy continued to observe the crowd of guests as they conversed in small groups, meandering through the room as they decided who to sit with next. Naturally, he found Anne in the crowd, and as if feeling his gaze upon her, she turned over her shoulder and stared back at him. Her eyes darted between him and the pretty woman beside him.
“May I sit beside you, Mr. Darcy? I know it is forward of me to ask, but your cousin has told me enough about you while you were observing our companions that I am certain I might amuse myself by confirming the veracity of his claims.”Miss Denham offered him a pleasant smile, and Darcy nodded his head before pulling a chair out for the lady.
He had only just taken the seat beside her when Anne materialized on his other side, and across the ballroom he could see Lady Catherine still pursuing her daughter. Richard waggled his eyebrows and accepted a glass of wine from a footman before sitting across the table from Darcy as if determined to get a good seat at the theatre.
The rest of their table soon filled up, and the second course was served. While Miss Denham was distracted by the banal civilities of Lady Lambert and her sister Miss Lloyd, Anne addressed Darcy, leaning a little closer without turning to look at him. “Why are you here, Darcy?”
“Miss Bennet informed us that the cuisine would be excellent. The mackerel does look expertly prepared, but then I am partial to fish.”
She let out a sharp, impatient exhale. “Please do not make this any more difficult than it already is. Why have you come to Sanditon? Pray, do not tell me it is because Georgiana likes the seaside, or because Roberta said….”
“It absolutely is because of something Roberta said,” Darcy interjected.
Anne gave another long-suffering sigh and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Darcy, did anything I said to you in my last letter give you the impression that I was ambivalent about ending our engagement?”
“That is immaterial; you have clearly taken leave of your senses.”
“Did it? ”
“No.”
“Good,” she hissed. “I am glad I made myself clear; I need now only reiterate to you that we are finished. Our engagement was never formally documented in any way that matters, and soon Mother shall hold no power over me.”
“So, you intend to dilly dally through the next few months until you are of age and can marry where you please?”
“And you are free to do the same.” Anne forced a caustic smile and then turned away, their whispered exchange at an end. “Ahem, Miss Denham, are you fond of reading?”
Miss Denham abandoned Miss Lloyd mid-sentence to turn her attention the other direction. “My hobbies are exceedingly varied; I tend to devote myself to one at a time, often concentrating all my attention and effort on whatever new interest intrigues me.” She swept her gaze appreciatively over Darcy before turning to Anne. “I doubt I shall be found in a library again before the summer is over, but I have read enough that I am sure I would enjoy some rigorous discourse on that subject.”
Across the table, Richard fumbled his fork and gave a cough to cover his faux pas . When Darcy looked over at his cousin, Richard winked. Darcy turned back to Miss Denham. “Certainly we all have our interest captivated by new ideas from time to time; pray tell me, do you indulge these pursuits to please yourself, or are your choices influenced by what activities may best recommend you to the notice of those you wish to please?”
Darcy could hear Anne let out a low growl of irritation, and he thought it very likely that Miss Denham heard it, too, but the lady was well-bred enough to conceal it. “I may be a woman, and rather young besides, but I hope I am capable of thinking for myself. However, I can certainly imagine circumstances where it would be quite my own decision to attempt some new activity which I might not otherwise have chosen, for the sake of forging some connection with a new friend.”
Darcy respected the diplomacy of her answer, but he had privately hoped the young lady would insist she should never entertain any amusements that went against her own preferences. He tried again. “I see. And so – for example – if you had been dreadfully frightened of horses since your childhood, would you undertake a sudden enthusiasm for all things equestrian simply to please somebody else?”
Again Miss Denham’s lips twitched with intelligent bemusement, and her gaze flicked to Anne, who scoffed and muttered under her breath, “I was never afraid of horses.”
Miss Denham quite deliberately glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Sir Sidney’s table and smiled broadly. “If it was to please a handsome, amiable, exceedingly eligible baronet, I would tolerate a great deal of what would otherwise bore me – and in time it may grow into a more genuine inclination. Is that not precisely how genteel young ladies are taught to behave?”
Lady Catherine turned a scrutinizing eye on them and abandoned any pretense of listening to Sir Beaufort Bollingbroke’s self-aggrandizing tales of his exploits in Parliament. “You give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person, Miss Denham.”