Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections: A Pride & Prejudice Variation by Abigail Reynolds
"Thank you." She waited while a footman pulled out her chair. "A roll and some cold meat would be lovely. I assume the noble in question is my son. You need not tell me of his failings; I am well aware of them."
Dropping a roll onto a fresh plate, Darcy looked back over his shoulder. "I never doubted it.
You were always aware of estate matters."
"You are very prickly this morning. Is something troubling you?"
He set the plate in front of her. "Paxton is not a trained dog who is aping his betters. In my experience, the sons of tradesmen can be as intelligent and articulate as those gentlemen with bloodlines that span centuries; and in many cases, they take their responsibilities more seriously. They are less reckless than the young bloods who gamble away their fortunes without a second thought and consider carousing to be their purpose in life."
"I need no sermons read to me, I thank you. My question is why you came here to promote a match against the wishes of your own relatives." Darcy took a slow sip of coffee before responding. "I came here to visit Paxton, knowing nothing of this situation, and I am not so much promoting it as giving my friend the opportunity to make his own case when he would otherwise not be permitted to do so. I doubt I could influence Lord Bentham one way or the other."
"I will not argue with you there, especially since his dear wife seems less than fond of you - an honor which I share. What does she hold against you?"
He hesitated, then said. "I know something she would rather I did not. but it is perhaps better not to discuss it."
"Ha! Now I must know what it is. I insist that you tell me."
From experience. Darcy knew arguing with her would be an exercise in pointlessness. "It dates to before her marriage, when she was still Miss Reed. She was determined to marry into the nobility, and Edward was her prime target. He narrowly avoided a trap she set in hopes of forcing him to marry her. Lord Bentham inadvertently walked into the next trap in his son's place, so he was the one to compromise her rather than Edward. He did the honorable thing, and it never seemed to occur to him that she had planned the whole affair; but I was witness to her anger over having trapped the wrong man."
The dowager frowned. "It still made her Marchioness of Bentham and mistress of Bentham Park."
"Yes, but only as long as he lives. Any children she might have with him will not inherit, and she knows full well that Edward has no fondness for her. She will have no power once he inherits."
She looked thoughtful. "Well, that explains a great deal. I cannot imagine she would be happy with this possible match between Eleanor and your friend Paxton."
"I cannot say. I barely know her. For that matter, I barely know Lady Eleanor, but from all I have heard she is a woman who knows her own mind."
The Dowager Marchioness cackled. "That she is! I am very fond of Eleanor. Unlike her brothers, she has both mettle and sense. You do not need to convince me that Paxton is more sensible and upright than my grandsons, since most men are. Still, Charles may be beginning to show signs of improvement."
Darcy choked on his sip of coffee. When he regained his breath, it took all his self-control to keep silent. He did not trust himself on the subject of Charles.
"Nothing to say for yourself?"
Carefully choosing his words, he said, "Edward is my friend. I do not care for Charles's choice of amusements."
"Do not speak to me of Edward! What a disappointment he proved to be." Her lip curled.
So Edward had fallen into the dowager's bad graces as well. Darcy had thought her more sensible. Although his temper flared, he managed to hide it under the guise of standing and offering to bring her more tea.
So the division in the family was to continue. He only hoped Edward would not be pained further by it. He had suffered quite enough already.
Chapter 7
The sun came out the following day, allowing the postponed visit to Rosedale Park to proceed. Darcy drove Paxton to Bentham Park in the curricle, assuming they would all ride together in a larger carriage to Rosedale. but Lady Bentham had different ideas. In order to accommodate a maid travelling with Lady Eleanor, she suggested the use of two carriages. With no real grounds for protesting this plan, they started off in tandem, the ladies in the carriage followed by the gentlemen in the curricle.
It was hardly a surprise when the carriage pulled up several miles from Bentham and Lady Eleanor emerged, claiming the closed vehicle was giving her a headache. Darcy wondered what Lord Bentham and his wife would think of this if they found out, since presumably Lady Eleanor's maid was under instructions to report any irregularities to them, but he handed over the reins of the curricle to Paxton without protest and took Lady Eleanor's place in the carriage. He was not going to complain about an arrangement that allowed him to be with Elizabeth, even if it was under the close chaperonage of a maid.
Inside the carriage. Elizabeth lacked some of her usual sparkle. Her bonnet lay beside her on the seat, leaving her hair uncovered. Her face looked wan, and while perhaps that was merely the light, her smile of welcome seemed forced. Perhaps she had not in fact forgiven him, despite their discussion of calling cards. He damned the Dowager Marchioness for interrupting that conversation just when they might have made some progress.
He greeted her cautiously and received a polite response, but nothing more. Once the carriage was in motion, the clatter of the wheels was loud enough to make conversation across the seats difficult. Since he was obliged to sit in the facing seat, there was little he could do about it. She seemed most interested in looking out the window, which gave him the freedom to rest his eyes on her.
How should he approach her, given her uncertain mood? Silence was easy now, but once they reached Rosedale, it would be just the two of them walking together, since Paxton and Lady Eleanor would want their privacy. Should he ask directly if he had offended her or take the safe road of simple courtesy and innocuous topics of conversation?
For the moment, he decided to follow her lead and say nothing. Instead, he took the rare opportunity to drink in her appearance. Sunlight poured in through the window, exposing the chestnut highlights in her dark curls. He rarely paid much attention to women's coiffures, but hers was the exception. As always, the ringlets that bounced against her cheeks were full of life, constantly in fluid motion, unlike those of so many ladies whose hair appeared set with shellac. Her hair had fascinated him almost since the beginning - the way stray curls kept escaping at the nape of her neck, and the bright luster that somehow matched the sparkle in her eyes.
In his dreams, she often appeared with her hair down, an image he had imagined so often that it should have become familiar and dull, but instead it always produced a rush of longing that tested his ability to keep his hands to himself. His intense fascination with her hair had only become more fervent in their meetings at Bentham Park, where she had taken to wearing jeweled hairpins that protruded beyond the knot of hair at the back of her head. In Hertfordshire and Kent, he had never caught sight of the hairpins that must have been tucked deep inside her coiffure. Now his most urgent fantasy had become one in which he slowly removed those very pins, allowing her luxurious locks to spill around her shoulders, turning the careful order into disorder that would give him the opportunity to run his fingers through the silken curtain of her hair as he took possession of those enticing lips. A surge of desire raced through him at the thought. Had she so much as smiled at him at that moment, he doubted he would have been able to restrain himself from touching her. Perhaps it was just as well that she was so subdued. It was the only thing holding him in check - that, and those tempting hairpins.
He had to force himself to look away from her until his arousal was back under regulation. Though not easy, given the temptation before him, it was an exercise with which he had extensive practice. Mentally conjugating verbs in ancient Greek had proven to be a far more useful skill than he had ever expected it to be in his days at Cambridge. Today he made it through all the verb classes in indicat
After a half hour or so, he took a gamble and raised his voice to point out a highland on the side of the road. "It is one of the moors. They are more common to the east, but there are a few in this part of Yorkshire."
She seemed interested, craning her neck to look out the window past the maid sitting beside her. "How can you tell it is a moor?"
"The vegetation on the moors is dark, and you can see the dark line toward the top of it. Also, the moors here are generally at higher elevation, often on a plateau."
"I see. Thank you."
And that was the end of the conversation, but at least she had been willing to interact with him. If only he could stop worrying about her mood! The more he thought about how to please her, the more he seemed to annoy her.
When he handed her out of the carriage at Rosedale, her smile seemed more genuine as she turned her face up to the sun. Flexing her fingers, she gave him a curious look. "Is something troubling you. Mr. Darcy?"
"Not at all. I was wondering the same of you since you seemed unusually quiet."
Shaking her head as if to clear it. she said, "I am not fond of riding in closed carriages - too much noise and motion, not enough air, and so much of the scenery hidden from view. That is all. I apologize if I was dull company."
"Hardly, Miss Bennet." After all, she should know by now that he was perfectly content just looking at her, at least as long as he did not let his eyes stray toward those dangerous hairpins.
As he had expected, once they entered the garden gate and started down the lime avenue, Lady Eleanor and Paxton quickly fell behind. They did not catch up even when Elizabeth stopped for several minutes to admire the subtle variations in hue and shape between the various trees in the arboretum. Her face now reflected the liveliness that nature always aroused in her. Perhaps this outing would be more pleasant than their previous encounters.
The path curved, taking them along the top of a slope. After they reached a small terraced overlook, Elizabeth turned to take in the prospect, resting her gloved hands on the stone parapet in front of her. Darcy longed to place his hand atop hers, but while his imagination saw her smiling up at him as he did so, he knew her true reaction would be quite different. He clasped his hands firmly behind his back.
Her face was turned slightly away from him, gazing across the valley to a series of ridges that faded into blue shadows at the horizon. No matter how fine the prospect, nothing could take Darcy's attention from her, so it did not pass his notice when she shook her head slightly.
"You seem deep in thought, Miss Bennet," he said with great care.
She released a breath that turned into a sigh. "Those hills seem so peaceful. From here we can see only their beauty, yet in reality, the people who live there have no fewer troubles than we do. Perhaps there is someone standing there looking out as us, thinking how fine it would be to escape into the distance."
Darcy's chest tightened painfully. Was he the one she wished to escape from? He had thought they were making progress, but perhaps he was mistaken. If so, it would be best to know now. He had to take several deep breaths before he dared to speak, and even then, it was a long moment before words came out of his mouth. "Would it be best if I left you to enjoy the peace of the garden on your own? I have no wish to impose my company upon you."
Her head swiveled toward him, her countenance a mask of puzzlement. "I beg your pardon?
The heat in his face turned to fire and his stomach churned. "You wished to escape, and I do not mean to burden you with my presence."
Her finely arched brows drew together for a moment, but then her expression cleared. "Oh, for heaven's sake! I was thinking of Eleanor and Mr. Paxton, and how there is no escape for them. I wonder sometimes if we are doing them a disservice by allowing them this time together when it can only lead to further heartbreak."
Mortification now warred with Darcy's other emotions. How vain he must have seemed, to assume she was speaking of him! But at least she had corrected him, rather than taking advantage of his offer to leave her alone. That was definite progress. "Perhaps it allows them to store up some happy memories to sustain them in the years to come."
She gave him a sharp look, making him wonder if she knew he was speaking of himself as well as the couple who trailed behind them. "I hope so," she said, but sounded doubtful. "There can be no happy ending for them, can there?"
"Since her father has refused his consent, and she will not marry without his approval - no, it seems fairly hopeless." Just as his cause was hopeless. How empty the world seemed without hope!
"Of course." She turned away and began to walk again. He caught up in a few short strides.
They remained silent until they had rounded the corner into the formal gardens, past the artfully constructed mined temple occupying a picturesque spot, but Elizabeth had little interest in it. Usually ladies seemed to be fond of such follies, but Elizabeth never followed the fashion. Perhaps it was the utter artificiality of it that lessened its appeal for her.
She paused, though, as they passed between several mounds of low-growing shrubs covered with purple flowers. Bending down, she rubbed the tips of her fingers along a set of blooms, then raised her hand and sniffed it. With a puzzled expression, she looked more closely at the blossoms.
"Is something the matter?"
"No, just that this plant is new to me. I thought it might be related to lavender, but it lacks the scent."
Darcy gave the flowers a perfunctory glance. He had no particular interest in horticulture, and his knowledge of decorative flowers was cursory at best. This, however, seemed somehow familiar, but it was a moment before he could place it. "Odd. I have never seen it cultivated before, but it appears to be heather. It grows wild on the hills here in the North, though not so densely as this. It thrives in the moors where the soil is poor, and it provides fodder for sheep. I am surprised to see anyone planting it in a garden, though it does add color to the hillsides in summertime."
"My aunt has told me of it, although she did not mention the sheep." She sounded amused.
Elizabeth could not possibly mean the silly Mrs. Phillips he had met in Meryton; he doubted she had been more than thirty miles from her home in her life. But it was a chance to demonstrate that he taken to heart her words about his manners. "Has she travelled to the North, then?"
"She was born and raised in Derbyshire and misses it to this day."
"I take it this is not your aunt who lives in Meryton. I would have noticed a Derbyshire accent." Now she wore a delightfully arch expression. "No, it is my Aunt Mary Gardiner who now lives in London."
He knew from her look that she must be teasing him, but he was baffled as to the source. "Where is she from? Derbyshire is a large county."
Elizabeth's smile widened. "She is from a small market town by the name of Lambton. Perhaps you have heard of it."
So that was it! "Of course. As you are no doubt already aware, it is not five miles from Pemberley." She ran her fingers along the side of the hedge they were passing. "I have heard something of that. My aunt is full of praise for the grounds of Pemberley."
"I am honored," he murmured automatically, though inwardly he was appalled. There were few families of any note in Lambton. Elizabeth's connections must be even lower than he had thought. For heaven's sake, her aunt might be related to his tenants! That would be an embarrassment. Yet even as he thought it, he knew he would not consider it an impediment if only, only, only Elizabeth would marry him. But it was best not even to think about that, or most likely he would say or do something that would offend her yet again. "Although Lambton is a pleasant town, I have visited it only rarely and can claim few acquaintances there." Surely that was safe to
"My aunt has not lived there these last twelve years, so I doubt you would have met her in any case. You might have known her father, as he held the living there."
"A clergyman?" Darcy struggled to recall the name of the previous incumbent in Lambton. It was one of the Darcy family livings, so he ought to know. A young man had taken it over a decade ago, but who had preceded him? He had met all of those whose livings came from Pemberley, even when he was a boy, and his father had insisted he learn the names of everyone associated with the estate. It began with a C, he thought, but at the moment the only name beginning with C he could think of was Carlisle. Or was that actually it? "Would that have been a Mr. Carlisle?" he asked slowly.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "You have a good memory."
"As in Lady Eleanor Carlisle?"
"Yes, she is a cousin of sorts. My aunt's father was one of Eleanor's great-grandfather's sixteen children. The present Lord Bentham is one of her forty-two Carlisle cousins." An amused smile hovered on her lips.
She had caught him out again. He had been assuming her aunt's origins to be humble, yet she turned out to be the granddaughter of a Marquess. One of a great many grandchildren of that particular Marquess, it was true, but still of noble blood. "Is that how you came to know Lady Eleanor?"
"Yes. We met in London as children when my aunt Gardiner paid a condolence call after the death of Eleanor's mother, and we became fast friends. Eleanor had been in a decline ever since her mother became ill so when it was seen that my presence cheered her, the commandment came down that I was to be invited for an extended stay regardless of my questionable connections. As the only daughter among four children. Eleanor was starved for female company, especially of the sort that could stand up to her brothers."
Another piece of Elizabeth's life he had not known! He was hardly better than a stranger. He knew only what he had seen in Meryton and Rosings. If he had met Elizabeth here for the first time, he would have assumed her to be of good family, and he would never have known of her family's embarrassing behavior. What did he truly know of most of the women he met?