Chapter Nine
“The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”
FITZ
I FELT AS IF THIS day would never end. The last thing I wanted to do now was play whist in the drawing room, especially because the woman who fancied herself the real Lady Catherine was determined to keep me away from Monroe. She made Monroe sit at a table across the room from me. Monroe’s intoxicating laugh that I could never get enough of called to me like a siren in the stuffy drawing room with an inordinate number of blue velvet settees and chaises. Little did she know how much she was beguiling me and had me wishing that we were alone together. Had she read my note? The smiles she had given me at dinner from down the table would indicate she had. But would she risk the wrath of Lady Catherine and sneak out to meet me? I felt like a schoolboy waiting for her to check the box to say she liked me.
To add to my irritation at being kept away from Monroe, Tony sat at my table. I found it odd and unsettling that he hadn’t tried to weasel his way near Monroe. Wasn’t that why he’d come to this wretched place? Not to say I wasn’t glad he was keeping his distance from her, but he’d purposely sat at the table with me. Why was that? What was his game? I knew he was playing at something.
“Should we make an actual wager?” the idiot Tony asked the table. Winnifred and the woman who played Charlotte Lucas were seated with us. Charlotte, who I believed was really named Lily, sat near me and across from Tony, serving as his partner. She’d taken every opportunity to catch his attention and smile at him flirtatiously. To make it more uncomfortable, she had a ghastly, high-pitched laugh, and she found everything the moron said to be humorous. Tony didn’t seem to mind the attention, which only made me more suspicious of his motives for being here.
“I don’t think that would be appropriate.” I didn’t bother to look up from my cards.
“Are you afraid to lose?” Tony tried to bait me.
I scoffed at his audacity. Whist was in my blood.
“A word of caution—do not trifle with Alastair,” Winnifred commented.
“Don’t you mean Mr. Darcy?” Charlotte corrected.
“I meant what I said,” Winnifred responded coolly, trying to catch my eye.
Trying not to encourage her, I ignored her attempt to engage me. It had been difficult, given that Lady Catherine was constantly pairing us together. It made me wonder if Lady Catherine was in league with my mother, or perhaps Winnifred.
“If you are so confident, what do you have to fear?” Tony wouldn’t let it drop.
This time, I zeroed in on the parasite.
His eyes gleamed with malice.
I took a moment to study him as I would a historic piece of literature. He was much easier to read. “The question is, what are you afraid of?”
He cleared his throat and held his hand closer to his chest. “Nothing,” he stammered. “I just thought it would be nice to win back some of the money you stole from me.”
Both women at the table gasped.
I carefully laid my cards down, holding back the desire to destroy him with more than a verbal assault. “I’m going to give you the opportunity to apologize for your unfounded accusation before I make you sorry for ever uttering it.”
Tony’s face reddened as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I only meant that I paid for this trip for you and Monroe.”
“I think what you mean is you threw away the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Winnifred stiffened, her expression begging me not to confirm her worst fears.
I couldn’t do that. It would be crueler to give her hope where there was none. Unfortunately, I had probably done that by trying to spare her feelings over the years.
“The relationship had run its course,” Tony defended himself.
“How odd for you, then, to tell Monroe this was a romantic gesture on your part, showing up for your would-be honeymoon.”
“Ooh, really?” Charlotte squealed, quite interested by this information.
I abhorred people like her who lived for gossip almost as much as I hated being the subject of gossip.
“Uh,” he stuttered. “It was,” he lied.
“Right.” I stood, tired of these games. Before I walked off, though, I couldn’t help but warn him again. “Stay away from Monroe.”
“Why? Because you want her?” Tony spat.
With some regret, knowing it would hurt Winnifred, I gave her a meaningful look. “As a matter of fact, I do want Monroe.” I wanted to tell Monroe in person first, but surely from my behavior today, she had to know that I wished for us to be more than friends.
Winnifred’s lower lip quivered.
For that I felt awful, but I didn’t appreciate her showing up here unannounced like it would be some sort of treat for me. “You can pass that along to my mother as well.” I strode off, eager to speak to Kingston and to escape the warm room with the roaring fire that made me feel suffocated in the wool jacket my character was required to wear.
Before I exited, I took a moment to watch Monroe at her table with Jane, Bingley, and Mary. She was smiling and laughing too loudly for Lady Catherine’s liking, judging by how often the woman glanced at her from her own table and shook her head. It pained me to see how the ill-tempered woman treated Monroe, because I knew if Monroe and I dated, it would only expose her to more censure. One part of me wanted to discreetly whisper to Monroe that her behavior was being watched, while the other part of me admired her and even longed to be as carefree. No one was as happy as Monroe. Perhaps it was because she always thought of others. Even now she was doing her best to help Mary learn whist, though I was sure it would end in disaster somehow. But at least she tried. For that, I loved her, even if her incessant need to fix what was broken drove me mad at times.
Monroe caught me staring at her and waved, a question in her eye as to why I was leaving.
I tried to convey with my smile that there was nothing for her to worry about.
“Your Grace, I mean Mr. Darcy.” Lady Catherine came running over. “Where are you going? Are you unhappy? What can I do?”
I steeled myself and held back the biting remarks I had on the tip of my tongue. Foremost, her treatment of Monroe that went beyond the scope of her character as Lady Catherine. The woman playing Mrs. Bennet treated Monroe warmly, even though it was out of character for her part. I understood the park’s aim of wanting to make this as realistic as possible. Well, not quite—I found it preposterous. But the point was, there was no need for the woman to be blatantly rude to Monroe. Even Lady Catherine had done her best at first to welcome Elizabeth Bennet.
“I’m not in need of your service,” I replied bluntly. “I need to speak to my estate manager.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” the silly woman responded. “I would never get in the way of that. You enjoy as much leisure time as you need.” She curtsied. “I myself will take your place at your whist table.”
“Thank you,” I said dryly before escaping out into the hall. I went only ten steps when I heard Monroe loudly whisper, “Fitz.” I turned to see her peeking her gorgeous head out the door, knowing her act of rebellion was going to get her in trouble with Lady Catherine. In fact, I believed the horrible woman was currently tugging on her, as Monroe’s head kept jerking back and forth while she tried to speak.
“The answer is yes,” Monroe managed to say before Lady Catherine pulled her back into the room and scolded her. “There will be no romantic pursuits outside of the script,” she screeched. The woman had an overinflated sense of self.
A great sense of relief washed over me, knowing in a few scant hours I would be alone with Monroe. Yet there was trepidation and guilt. I was going to ask Monroe to cross a line we could never come back from. And for her, the line would lead into enemy territory. Was I wrong to follow my heart instead of my cold, calculating head for once? I loved no one like I loved Monroe. To carry on as only her friend was an unbearable thought. We would make it work, I told myself, attempting to assuage my guilt as I walked down the dimly lit corridor in the main house we’d been in all day. Apparently, this house was where the Rosings Park and Pemberley scenes would occur. Monroe was staying across the park in the Longbourn house. Tomorrow I would have to move to the Netherfield house to stay in character.
As soon as I entered my suite with walls covered in geranium-leaf wallpaper, I sat on one of the fabric chairs in front of the fireplace, taking a moment to breathe before I called Kingston. I hoped he’d been able to find any information about why Tony was here. I was sure it wasn’t because he was nursing a broken heart, which filled me with ire. How could he not realize what he’d had with Monroe? For her sake and for my own, I was grateful that the half-wit had let her go. Sometimes I wondered if I was any better, though. I had been willing to let her go, but it was to protect her. That had to count for something.
With that thought, I pulled out the phone I had concealed inside the pocket of the cream silk trousers I wore. I had to admit, they were quite comfortable. Wearing them outside this place was out of the question, but I didn’t mind them.
Kingston answered on the first ring. “Your Grace, I mean Alastair, sir. I suppose you saw the photo on Daily Mail ’s site,” he asked uneasily before I could say a word.
A sinking feeling fell over me. I knew I had to know, but I feared asking. “What photo?”
Kingston hesitated to respond. “Perhaps it should wait.”
“Kingston, please, I must know.”
“Sir, it’s of Miss Monroe and you at the airport. It paints her in an unflattering light.”
“Damn it.” I threw myself back against the chair. It was my worst nightmare coming to fruition. “What did it say?”
Kingston swallowed so hard I could hear it over the phone. “Just that she seems a tad quirky, and the article questioned if she was suitable for you and your title.”
No doubt Kingston was sugarcoating it. I was sure the author of the article hadn’t called her quirky .
“Shall I make a threatening call on your behalf?” he offered.
“No. That will only add more fuel to the fire. Hopefully it will blow over. Is my mother having kittens over it? No doubt she has seen it.” She would never admit it, but she thrived off gossip in any form.
“She has delivered two litters over it,” Kingston quipped.
I couldn’t help but chuckle, even though this was no laughing matter.
“I hope Miss Monroe doesn’t see it. She is ... if you don’t mind me saying, incredible. Quirky”—there was a smile in his voice—“but incredible.”
“I know, Kingston,” I sighed.
“I was hoping you would figure that out.”
His admission surprised me. Perhaps I hadn’t hidden my feelings as well as I thought. But he had to know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have more than friendly feelings for Monroe. I didn’t miss faculty meetings for anything. “Actually, I’d been hoping to confess my feelings for her tonight. Perhaps I should wait.” I didn’t know why I was admitting this to Kingston. But he was the closest thing I had to a friend outside of Monroe. His advice was always thoughtful, and I valued it.
“Permission to speak freely?” Kingston asked.
“You never need to ask that. Just know I might not like what you say.”
“I will take your warning to heart, yet I must tell you that women like Miss Monroe don’t come along every day. It’s obvious she sees you, not your title or what you have to offer her. And I’ve known no one as caring and loving as she is.”
Nor had I. But ... “Can she be the Duchess of Blackthorne?”
“I believe she can be anything she wishes to be, but that is a question only you can answer.”
I felt as if Kingston were politely putting me in my place because he knew what I was really asking. His rebuke, as gentle as it was, made it no less uncomfortable, so I changed the subject. “Were you able to find out anything about Monroe’s ex-fiancé?”
“I’m still working on it. You’ll be the first to know when I find something.”
“Very good.” I knew he would find something . What, I wasn’t sure.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No, Kingston. Wait ... Perhaps you could send me the photo and the article.”
Kingston paused before he responded. “I will, but ... I hope it doesn’t change your plans for tonight. Good night, sir.” He abruptly and uncharacteristically hung up on me.
I scrubbed a hand over my face before loosening the cravat around my neck, knowing I’d just come off as an insensitive berk. Yet, I stared at the phone in my hand, waiting and dreading the photo and article that would appear. I had to know what Monroe and I were up against. It didn’t change my feelings for her, but it did give me pause. She didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, no matter how quirky she was. Her quirks were part of her charm.
It didn’t take long for the photo and the unflattering article to appear. The photo showed Monroe handing me a dress, wearing a bonnet, with dresses still wrapped around her shoulders. Whoever took the photo had captured her with her mouth wide open, which made her appear deranged. The caption read, Could this be the new Duchess of Blackthorne? Please, no.
I tossed my phone on the chair next to me, knowing damn well what the rest of the article would say. Unflattering was probably the kindest word Kingston could have chosen. No doubt they’d ripped Monroe to shreds and questioned why I would choose someone like her.
I closed my eyes, and several visions of Monroe ran through my mind. Everything from her singing and playing duets on the piano with my sister, Anna, to her being covered with puppies and giggling with delight, to her knowing every song to every musical and belting them out like the star she was in my life. The brightest star. The night sky would be grim indeed without her in my life. If not for her, I would just lose myself in my work and research. I would be more of a selfish bastard than I already was. Or did trying to thrust my life on her make me even more of one?
It was a question that deserved an answer. But for the first time in my life, I was going to ignore all the evidence.