Chapter 3
Richard
That night, Richard had asked for the same brunette yet again at Madame Bertin’s.
The request was now assumed, and he did not have to wait.
As before, he enjoyed the woman’s skills, he was pleased that she allowed him to call her Elizabeth, and he spent a great deal of the encounter with his eyes closed.
But as he dressed again, and “Elizabeth” still lay provocatively posed among the bedclothes, he asked her, “Have you read about the Battles of Rolica and Vimeiro?”
“Elizabeth” sat up, staring. “No, I am sorry to say that I have not. Did you take part in the battles? Were they in France?”
And Richard knew that he had spoiled his arrangement. He would never be able to pretend with this particular courtesan again. He made a noise in his throat, then worried that he was being rude, and hastily finished dressing. “Excuse me, madam,” he said. “Thank you, as always.”
He hurried away, but before he left the establishment, he penned a short note to Madame Bertin. “The girl did nothing at all wrong, but I should like another brunette tomorrow night, if that is possible.”
It still shocked him that he had almost wept in front of ladies that afternoon.
He did not know how it was that Elizabeth had seen behind his mask.
If he had been told that she would really see him, the true man, even his pain, and that she would say something about it in front of others, he would have assumed that he would be livid with her.
But, instead, he was more deeply enamoured with her than ever.
More admiring, more appreciative. More of everything wondrous.
Still, he could not have her. As he swung up into his saddle and made for Darcy House rather than the military club or his parents’ mansion, he decided that what he needed was the one human to whom he had related the unabridged, unedited war stories.
And he needed some fine whiskey, or perhaps cognac, or brandy. Or all of the above.
Richard smiled as he contemplated an evening in the restful company of his cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and a night of oblivion.
Every day for the following fortnight, Richard decided not to visit Elizabeth. He dreaded giving her the impression that he was courting her.
But after his duties at Whitehall and the Board of Ordnance were completed, every single afternoon, he found himself at the beautifully-kept home on Gracechurch Street, greeting the kindly housekeeper and asking if “the ladies” were in.
They almost always were. Elizabeth explained once, when he asked, that she took a walk every fine day in the morning, and they liked to do any errands necessary in the morning, as well.
Many evenings were devoted to dinners with friends or lectures or concerts.
In the afternoon, they tended to stay in and host a variety of callers.
At Gracechurch Street, Richard saw Lady Grace, the Honourable Amelia Robinson, and Miss Allington several more times.
He met Miss Evans and Miss Walker several times as well.
He was positive, seeing the quality of their clothing, that the latter were not in the same circle, but they were pleasant and genteel ladies with interesting conversation.
He was not certain that he had ever enjoyed drawing room chat as much as he did at the Gardiners.
But that was certainly in large part because of Elizabeth. It was not merely her mirthful eyes and brilliant smile that enlivened the room, but her lovely voice and lively laugh, her pert opinions and sharp intelligence—she was a wonder!
There was, however, one thing that very much lessened his enjoyment during those many afternoons: Elizabeth was called on by quite a few men.
Richard saw Mr Cooper three more times, and he met a Mr Ford, a Mr Wells, a Lord Seymour, a Mr Jenkins, and a Mr Fisher. Some of the men appeared as regularly as Mr Cooper.
It was torturous to watch their eyes follow Elizabeth and to hear their flirtations.
But Richard studied Elizabeth more assiduously than he did the men, and he was delighted to see, over and over, mere courtesy.
She was a warm and friendly woman, but he saw no evidence of her preference for any of the men who called on her.
Indeed, as several callers left the house, one late afternoon, Richard overheard Miss Allington say to Mr Ford, “I am not certain it is wise to approach her for the right to correspond, or to address one another by first names. Not at this time. My friend has stated quite decisively that she is not ready for such a step with anyone.”
Richard was as happy to hear that confirmation of his own observations as Mr Ford seemed unhappy.
Every night he visited Madame Bertin’s, where he enjoyed the cultured speech and manners, as well as the intimacies he sought, of an extremely comely brunette.
He never questioned her about current events or anything else; he had learnt from his mistake.
No lady of the ton was as wonderful as Elizabeth, so it stood to reason that of course no courtesan was, either.
This particular brunette was, however, about the same height as Elizabeth, and he easily slipped into the dreamy delusion, every time he visited her, that she was, indeed, Elizabeth.
And so the days and nights passed until one particular morning, when he awoke with a particularly severe hangover to find a message that he was not required that morning but was asked to report to the Board of Ordnance shortly after noon.
The realisation that he would likely not be able to see Miss Bennet that day made him feel nauseous. Which was ridiculous, he thought as he downed another cup of black coffee. His nausea was clearly a response to his hangover.
But a cold scrubbing of his face, a headache remedy in some tea, a bath and shave, and several more cups of coffee led to him feeling fairly well, his headache all but gone.
Still, as he attempted to nibble on a buttered roll, he felt as if he could cast up his accounts more easily than he could swallow even one bite.
Richard decided to attempt a morning call. She will not be in, he told himself. But he felt compelled to try.
“Mrs Gardiner is indisposed, and Miss Bennet is not in, sir,” the housekeeper informed him.
Richard saw the woman’s amusement at his frown. She nodded her head to one side and murmured, “She is out for a walk.”
He turned the direction she had indicated and spied a small park. “Thank you!” he said fervently, knowing that she had breached decorum for his sake.
He strode towards the park and saw that Elizabeth was walking alone, but she was being trailed by a wary looking footman. Her face brightened when she saw him, and she spoke to the footman, who took several steps back but remained on duty.
“Colonel, good morning,” Elizabeth said with one of her beautiful smiles.
He felt his throat catch, but he returned the greeting and then asked if he could join her on her walk.
“Certainly. It is a very pleasant morning,” she said. “I say this because I fear you have not noticed, or at least you have not alerted your face to such.”
Richard shot a wry smile her way but dropped the pretence and said, quite hoarsely, “You know that I cannot court you, cannot marry you, do you not?”
“Of course I understand that, sir. I have no home, you have no home; it makes every bit of sense that we each need to marry prudently.”
He stared into her gorgeous eyes and said, “I wish things were not…as they are.”
Elizabeth just shook her head. She looked at him fondly, but staring into her eyes, Richard realised quite clearly that she did not feel even a millionth for him of what he felt for her.
She said, “Colonel, I myself intend to marry only for the deepest love, and I am therefore not certain that I will marry at all. If you, like me, wish to marry for love, I believe that you will manage to do so better than I. This is my reasoning: you are an earl’s son.
You have access to many, many wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, educated, and wealthy women.
My dear friends have introduced me to other ladies of the ton, and although I have met many rather insipid ladies and not a few unknowledgeable ladies, I promise you that there are many intelligent, kind, and wealthy ladies as well. ”
She laughed, a light-hearted sound, and said, “Just mind that you fall in love with a lady with a sizable dowry, or perhaps a medium-sized dowry and an estate, and you will be just fine.”
He wished to say, Too late. But her assurance that there were many ladies well suited to his needs made sense, and he was glad that Elizabeth accepted that, despite his attentions, they were just friends. Even more, he felt glad of her assumption that they could remain so.
He smiled and said, “I suppose you are correct. After all, ’tis just what my mother always says. And I cannot doubt two wise counsellors.”
After circling the small park twice, Richard escorted Elizabeth home, the chaperone/footman still walking behind. However, when Elizabeth led him into the parlour, Richard saw that there was an older man—likely her uncle—speaking with her aunt.
Mrs Gardiner made the introduction. Mr Gardiner was perhaps ten years Richard’s senior and was lean and fashionably dressed.
He was very cordial; however, after Richard sat down and accepted a plate of cakes and a cup of tea, Gardiner said, “After our repast, I would like a word with you in my study.”
Richard was certain that Elizabeth’s uncle would be asking his intentions, and his brain scrambled, wondering how he could be honest and yet still maintain access to Elizabeth. He could not bear the idea that he would never be allowed to call upon her again!
Once they were removed from the ladies, sitting in a large, comfortable room replete with books and a massive desk, Richard hurried to speak before Gardiner could: “Mr Gardiner, I am certain that I know the subject you wish to canvass, and I assure you that I have no intention of courting your niece, and she knows this, but of course neither do I have dishonourable intentions towards her. I very much enjoy her company, as she has said she enjoys mine, and we have established between the two of us that we are just friends.”
Gardiner looked surprised but pleased with Richard’s bold statements.
However, he remained thoughtful. His hands were steepled together, and he tapped his mouth with his fingers once, twice—and then, seeming to have made a decision, he lowered his hand and spoke, “While I appreciate your candour, sir, I respectfully ask that you cease your visits to my niece. I believe you when you say that Elizabeth understands your intentions, or lack thereof, for indeed my wife and I had already ascertained this information from her. However, society will not understand this, and assumptions will be made.”
Richard’s heart sank.
He asked, “Are you having this same conversation with all of the men who have been calling? I have seen at least three of them several times over the past few weeks.”
“Actually,” Mr Gardiner said, “I have spoken to Elizabeth about her needing to discourage those callers who she has absolutely determined do not suit her. Her aunt will be helping her to do so. The reason I am speaking to you is that you are the only man who is calling without the intent of eventual engagement or marriage.”
Richard felt nauseous again. He realised that Elizabeth’s uncle was correct: society would harshly judge continued calls, for months on end, and no resulting engagement or marriage. What could he say to ensure that he could still see Elizabeth?
He had only disordered thoughts, but he had to try to say something to maintain access to Elizabeth.
“Sir, your niece and I had a conversation today, and she shared with me her goal of marrying for love, but she also said that she felt her chances of being able to marry for love were quite low, given her circumstances. She contrasted her access to potential partners to my own. Since this conversation, I have been wondering if I ought to introduce Miss Bennet to my mother, the Countess of Matlock. If she takes your niece under her wing and introduces her to many of our friends, Miss Bennet may be able to meet a man of means whom she could love.”
Even as he made this suggestion, Richard’s heart seemed to plummet. Was he truly suggesting that his mother would find a husband for the woman he himself loved?
But, he reminded himself, she did not seem to love him, not even a jot. And…and if he did not do something, his access to Elizabeth would be cut off, as of that very day.
So he kept his gaze squarely on Gardiner, and he was happy to see the man’s slow nod. He said, “If my niece approves your idea, I shall allow her—in the company of my wife—to meet with your mother, and to therefore meet and mingle with people of your circle.”
“I am happy to do this for my friend,” Richard said. “It is not as if Miss Bennet is not already acquainted with people in my circle, obviously. I have met three of her friends who are very much so.”
Gardiner said, “Elizabeth is not mercenary, and she is careful of her friendships. She has never wanted to trespass, or to even seem to trespass, on her friends to garner invitations, and therefore she tends to see them only in private visits or in a few specially selected events such as the concert she so dearly enjoyed.”
“I see. She is everything good.”
“My niece has a lot of…integrity, I suppose is the best word. At any rate, if she approves your idea, she would be meeting the Countess for the purpose of gaining introductions and access. It is an entirely different thing than utilising her dear friends for ulterior motives. I am happy for you to present your idea to her. Would you like to explain this to her in front of my wife, or in front of me?”
“Either.” Richard smiled. He thought, Elizabeth is young yet.
And the fact that she has not fallen for any of her callers shows that what Miss Allington said to Mr Ford is correct: she is not ready for a proposal.
I may have months, even a year, before I have to deal with the horror of seeing her attached to another.