Chapter Forty-Four
Good heavens!” Lady Matlock expostulated. Her knife dropped onto her breakfast plate with a clatter.
“M’dear?” the Earl looked up, his mind still on an article in The Morning Post.
“Darcy is in love with some country girl and is about to propose to her!”
“Impossible,” the Earl declared, the article now forgotten.
“I would have thought so as well, but – well, read for yourself.” Lady Matlock rose and gave her letter to the Earl.
As he read, he began to frown. “This is not good,” he muttered. Looking up at his wife, he declared, “No, not good at all! I thought you said Miss Stanford had made an impression on him?”
“So I thought, and then he had a sudden desperation to go off to visit that Bingley friend of his. And now – now this!”
The two stared at one another for a long minute. Then the Earl said, rather gruffly, “Oh, and I just received a short message from Reginald saying he requires a distraction from his writing and is on his way to Town.”
“Really…” Lady Matlock half closed her eyes and drummed her fingers on the table, considering this news that her eldest son was coming to visit.
“I know that look, Eleanor. What are you thinking?”
“If Reginald requires a distraction, then let us send him off to collect Darcy and bring him back to London and back to his senses, if that is at all possible!”
“Excellent plan,” the Earl agreed.