Chapter Thirteen
MR. DARCY REGRETTED saying it so baldly immediately after the words had left his mouth. He should have used some euphemism. This was the man’s wife, after all!
She pushed her way out into the hallway, eyes wide. She shut the door behind herself. “You’re not telling Miss Darcy until after the ball?”
“It seems cruel,” he said. “She has been looking forward to this for weeks, and it is not exactly her debut into society, of course, but sort of a warm-up, and I have arranged for her to come back early anyway. Before, I thought I should stay after her, until midnight, at least, for the supper, but now I shall come back with her, and I shall tell her in the morning. We’ll leave, then, to go back to town. You are welcome to come along.”
“How do you know?” she said. “What happened? I suppose no one sent word to me because no one knows I am his wife.”
“Yes, it was his family who was sent word. He has been dead for weeks, it seems, but no one knew of it, because he and the officers he was traveling with were set upon by enemy troops and taken captive. It was only after they got back that they were able to confirm that he was gone. His body is…” Mr. Darcy squared his shoulders.
“There is not even a grave somewhere to go and visit, it seems.”
Elizabeth put her hand to her chest.
“I am so sorry,” he breathed.
She shook her head. “He was killed in battle?”
“In a carriage accident, it seems.”
“Weeks ago?” she said, her voice very calm. “I am a widow.”
“Madam, attend to me,” he said. “You might as well go to the ball tonight.”
Her gaze jerked up to meet his. “What?”
“You are a widow. You must go into mourning now for a year. You will not have other balls.”
“But that is—” She made a disbelieving noise in her throat. “Obviously, I am too overcome to go to a ball.”
“Maybe you could stand the distraction,” said Mr. Darcy, and he meant it.
“You, sir, you are the last person who I would think would advise such a thing. It would be wrong.”
He considered. “Perhaps.”
She settled her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “You don’t do things if you think they are wrong.”
“My sister… I must take her. She would be crushed else. If she does not see Neithern again, I don’t think she can have closure on what is likely her first romance besides…”
“Wickham,” Elizabeth breathed, looking away.
“And I want you to come because it will make me feel better for going. I told you because I want someone else to know.” His voice was starting to shake.
She let out a breath. “Yes, all right.”
“What?”
“Yes, you’re right. I am going into mourning for a year. I shan’t be able to go anywhere social for six months, no balls at all.”
It was true. After six months, she’d be in half-mourning, and she could wear grays and dark blues and come to balls, but not dance. She could call upon people at that point. She could resume her life. But for six months, she must go away and hide, essentially.
She looked up at him. “I shall come along, then. Not for you, Mr. Darcy, but for myself.” There was something gentle in her tone, and he knew she was, in fact, doing this entirely for him.
His heart lurched.
No one did that.
No one at all.
He did things for people all the time. Painful and difficult things, and no one ever reciprocated, and he never even minded. In fact, he had not thought that people were even meant to. It was his job and his responsibility and—
“Thank you, Lizzy,” he whispered.
“Of course, Fitz,” she said.
CAROLINE BINGLEY HAD been planning her trap for Houseman and the Duke of Neithern for two weeks. She had brought Georgiana Darcy into the scheme only because it was easier than trying to attempt it all on her own.
At first, Georgiana had balked, saying that she had no desire to trick a man into a marriage. She shouldn’t have to trick anyone, after all. She was an heiress with a sizable dowry.
Caroline pointed out that she was also an heiress with a sizable dowry—not as sizable as Georgiana’s, of course—but that she was not swimming in marriage offers.
Georgiana said that it was far too soon for her to become desperate about such things. She was not yet out in society and she was only sixteen.
Caroline agreed.
But she also asked if Georgiana thought she was going to meet many other young and eligible dukes anytime soon, and it was true that Neithern was a bit unique.
He was only twenty years old, after all, only four years older than Georgiana.
He was very handsome. He seemed to have liked her before.
“And you quite liked him, didn’t you?” said Caroline pointedly.
“You could have very easily fallen in love with him, is that not the case?”
Georgiana crumpled to the scheme easily after this sort of pressure.
If Caroline felt a bit guilty about it, she reminded herself that she was making Georgiana a duchess, and that there was no need to feel guilty about that.
Caroline had chosen the ball that night because it was the one time she could be assured that Neithern and Houseman would both be present at the same time in the same place.
This didn’t happen often otherwise. Also, it seemed sort of dramatic in a way, having everything come to a head during the midsummer masque, the ball everyone had been planning for.
The ball itself was held outdoors on the grounds of Neith Abbey.
There was a temporary floor set down, a wooden ballroom directly in front of the lake in front of the abbey.
The lake reflected back the light of the metal fire baskets that hung here and there, along with the reflections of the stars.
Since it was early July, there were also fireflies flitting here and there.
The entire area looked magical, almost as if it had been touched by the fey folk, Caroline thought.
She held her elaborate mask to her face—she had not made it herself, of course, but had it made especially for the event along with her dress.
It was a shade of very light green with tiny lavender accent flowers.
The mask and the dress matched. She had little lavender flowers embroidered around the mask, like a vine.
She was quite pleased with the look of it.
Caroline was barely listening to Georgiana, who was nervous and babbling all about how her brother was acting quite strangely that night and speculating on why he might be out of sorts.
Caroline made noises whenever Georgiana paused, noncommittal, and she barely registered half of what the other girl said.
She was looking out for Mr. Houseman. He had not come in any of the carriages with his guests, though he had seen them all off, dressed for a ball, with his own mask. Even so, he had still not arrived, and she was beginning to worry that he would not come at all.
Of course, she thought. He would not come. They do not wish to be seen together, after all. And Neithern speculated that Houseman did not come to the balls at all.
Well, dash everything.
Her entire plan had been ruined, had it not?
Then, coming through the crowd of masked revelers appeared a man in a plain black mask and a tidy suit. It took Caroline a moment to recognize him as Neithern as he offered his hand to Georgiana.
“Miss Darcy,” said Neithern. “Has anyone claimed your first two dances?”
Georgiana giggled in delight, turning to beam at Caroline. “Indeed not, sir.”
“May I?” he said, smiling at her.
“Oh, I would be ever so pleased,” said Georgiana.
Caroline watched them go off to dance, huffing to herself.
This would never do.
She had been stymied and thwarted at every turn and she would not allow that to happen.
How could she get Mr. Houseman here?
She marched over to a servant. “You,” she said. “How much would you like to run to Barralds and deliver a message to the master there.”
“To Barralds?” said the servant.
Caroline named an amount. “Would that entice you?”
“I am meant to work here at the ball, ma’am, and I—”
“How about this much?” said Caroline and named an even higher amount.
The servant licked his lips. “W-well, perhaps I could duck out for a few moments, I suppose?”
NOT TWENTY MINUTES later, on the outskirts of the dance floor, Mr. Houseman waved a scrap of paper in Bishop Sulles’s face. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
Sulles took the paper from him, squinting at it. His eyes widened and he ripped the paper into a number of tiny pieces. “Are you mad, sir? Why do you go waving that about?”
“You sent it to me,” said Mr. Houseman.
“Indeed,” growled Sulles, “I did not.”
“Mr. Houseman?” came a female voice.
Mr. Houseman rounded on the masked woman. “Pardon me, madam, but I am occupied currently and cannot speak just now. I apologize.”
“You’ll wish to speak to me,” said the woman, who he was now realizing was Miss Caroline Bingley.
“Oh, God in heaven, not now, Miss Bingley,” he said, glaring at her.
“You see,” said Miss Bingley, “I am the one who sent that letter and summoned you here.”
Mr. Houseman turned on her sharply.
“We have things to discuss, Mr. Houseman,” she said with a tight smile. “You’ll wish to bring your brother as well.”
Mr. Houseman’s lips parted.
“He’s dancing with Miss Darcy. She may come, too,” said Miss Bingley. “He’ll know somewhere we can all talk privately, I should think.”
“Well, I’m coming, too, then,” said Sulles.
Caroline looked him over. Certainly, she had overheard whatever had been said about Neithern’s uncle, but she wondered if he could really be as bad as all that. She had leverage, after all. It should be all right. She shrugged at him. “Suit yourself.”
NEITHER ELIZABETH NOR Mr. Darcy were dancing, though Elizabeth was watching as Jane and Bingley danced every dance together. It wasn’t polite, of course, to monopolize each other’s time thus, but they were engaged and it was tolerated.