Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections: A Pride & Prejudice Variation by Abigail Reynolds
"Of course it suits you admirably," the dowager replied. "All my plans work out admirably."
Paxton spoke up with an air of one making a great discovery. "Eleanor, my dear, I think I am coming to understand your grandmother."
The dowager gave him a sidelong look. "Somehow I doubt that."
He continued to address his words to Eleanor, but spoke loudly enough for all to hear. "In a few minutes, she is going to be struck by the marvelous idea that this could also be the solution to the problem of our wedding. Rather than the rushed and furtive wedding currently planned for us, what could be more natural for us than to desire to be united in a double ceremony with our dear friends? It would explain our indecent rush from engagement to the altar without reference to scandal." His eyes danced with laughter as he watched the older woman.
With her haughtiest look, the Dowager Marchioness examined him from head to foot. "I might yet decide you have some sense after all, young man, but you are not as clever as you think." Paxton laughed. "Did I miss something, then?"
"Two things. One is the value of holding a major event here without Lady Bentham, so everyone will know we are not ashamed of putting her into retirement, and as for the other¯" She paused and eyed Darcy assessingly. "It will give me the greatest pleasure to tell my idiot nephew Matlock that I not only managed to make Darcy see reason on the subject of marriage, but actually had him at the altar inside two months' time." Her expression reminded Elizabeth of a triumphant cat parading a dead mouse.
Darcy gave her a stem look. "You had nothing to do with my decision to marry."
"True, but that will not stop me from taking the credit."
Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. "And I used to think my family was troublesome!" Darcy leaned down to speak softly in her ear, his warm breath tickling her tender skin. "I am sorry to disillusion you, my dear, but this is your family now."
Epilogue
Bentham Park, July 23
"You are selling your commission?" Darcy's shock was apparent.
"It is your fault, you know," said Richard Fitzwilliam.
"My fault? I never asked you to sell out!"
"No, but you refused to allow Lord Bentham to repay you for what you did for Edward, so he felt obliged to pour his largesse on me instead. I am now in possession of what was formerly one of the minor Bentham properties, a manor house near Nottingham with an income of a thousand pounds per annum." Darcy blinked. "That is very generous of him."
"Do not give me that look, Darcy. Lord Bentham learned a lesson from his offer to repay you. He and Edward met with the solicitors and settled the estate on me before I had any inkling of his plans. The first I knew of it was when I received the deed from the solicitor."
"You are mistaken. I do not disapprove; I am just surprised. But I am delighted that you will not be returning to active duty."
"I will not argue that point!"
"How is Lord Bentham? Is he still furious over the entire matter?"
Richard furrowed his brows. "He is calmer. I think. He continues to blame himself for trusting his wife, but he is very glad to have Edward back. That has been the best medicine for him. It helps that Eleanor is ecstatically happy and thanks him constantly for allowing her to marry Paxton."
"And Charles?" Darcy was not sure he wished to know the answer.
"There has not been even a whiff of impropriety in his behavior toward your Elizabeth - and I assure you I have been watching closely. They have conversed several times, but always with others present. In fact...but I should let Elizabeth tell you that story. No need to fret; you will likely be pleased about it."
"I, pleased with Charles? That would be a first."
Richard chuckled. "Poor Charles. He always wanted you to like him, you know."
Darcy gave him an odd look. "No, I did not know. Usually he seemed to want to annoy me more than anything."
With a shrug, Richard said, "It comes down to the same thing. If you had any brothers of your own, you would understand."
"How did Charles take the news of your new estate?" Watching his father give property to a mere cousin when Charles himself was landless could not have been pleasant.
"Without a problem, since he is to have Newiston House now that Lady Bentham is in seclusion in Scotland and the Dowager Marchioness is in residence here. That will give him a home of his own, but nearby enough to visit frequently. Lord Bentham seems to believe he has many bridges to mend."
"He is correct in that," Darcy said darkly.
"Oh, come now, Darcy! He is an old man who trusted his beautiful young wife - not the first nor the last to do so."
And for his own father's sake, Darcy should have been keeping an eye on the old man all these years, rather than refusing to have anything to do with him. That was one of the realizations he had come to during his week at Pemberley. "I suppose so," he said grudgingly.
For at least the tenth time, Darcy glanced at the clock, the same one that had so infuriated him during his brief engagement to Eleanor. It still counted out the minutes ridiculously slowly. "How long does it take them to finish fitting one dress?" he asked impatiently.
Clapping him on the shoulder, Richard said, "You never used to be so impatient, cousin!"
"That was before I met Elizabeth!" Darcy had not been alone with her since before his departure to Pemberley. He had not been happy about leaving her for a week, but it had been the right thing to do. The official reason was that Elizabeth wanted some time alone with her family, who had just arrived. That was true enough, but the actual motivation had been that they were both finding it increasingly difficult to stop at kisses. After one occasion when they had succumbed enough to their longings to go somewhat beyond that, they had reluctantly decided a brief separation might be wise. After all, as Elizabeth had pointed out with amusement, there was no hope of hiding their shame if they fell into sin, owing to the Dowager Marchioness's astonishing ability to know everything that anyone at Bentham Park did, said or even thought.
None of that was important now. This evening Elizabeth would waltz in his arms in that same ballroom where he had discovered he still loved her, and this time she would be smiling at him - and tonight would be the last night they spent apart. Tomorrow morning, he would meet her at the altar, along with Paxton and Eleanor, and she would become his wife. "Is Paxton at Hillington? I have not seen him here."
"He is supervising the construction of his wedding gift to Eleanor. Tomorrow he will come to church via his new footbridge over the river."
Darcy laughed. "That is more of a gift to himself! He is worried Eleanor might try their stepping stones again someday. I must admit it seems more than likely that sooner or later she would."
A small hand slipped through his arm. "I do not think Eleanor has any desire to go near the stepping stones again," said Elizabeth. "She is tired of limping."
A rush of warmth filled him, and Darcy could not quite stop himself from leaning down to place a light kiss on her forehead. Although he could not imagine anyone objecting, he still glanced around to check if the Dowager Marchioness was watching.
Elizabeth was well able to comprehend his look. "You need not worry. She has taken Lydia and Kitty into town to do some final shopping."
"Oh, dear," said Richard, who had become acquainted with the Bennets during the last week. "That may prove interesting."
"Instructive for all concerned, I imagine," Elizabeth said. "The Dowager Marchioness seems to have taken on Kitty and Lydia as a personal challenge."
"My money is on her," Darcy said without hesitation.
"I agree," said Elizabeth. "After all, she managed to teach both Eleanor and me to behave properly, at least most of the time."
Since Darcy was particularly partial to those times when Elizabeth did not behave properly, it seemed wisest to keep his silence on the subject. "Richard tells me I should ask you about Charles."
Elizabeth laughed. "Ah. yes, that is an interesting tale! After Eleanor and I m
Darcy raised his eyebrows. "I am surprised. I thought his affection for you ran deeper than that."
"His affection was never so much for me as for a woman who would treat him as a friend rather than her potential marital property. I was simply the first he had met in some time, but Miss Holmes fits the description better and has the advantage of long years of friendship with him. I think she will be very good for him."
"Any woman who can distract Charles from you has my profound thanks! And I am glad you are finally done with your fitting. I missed you."
"You may yet decide it was worth the wait! The only reason it took so long is that we were trying out my hairstyle for tomorrow." She gave him a teasing smile, then stepped forward and turned slowly in a circle. "What do you think?"
The minx! She knew just what she was doing to him, he was sure of it. Her dark hair was gathered in a complex set of loops held together by no fewer than eight diamond hairpins, part of the set he had given her as a betrothal gift. A surge of pure desire ran through him.
Richard said, "Lovely! It will be perfect."
"Thank you. The poor maid had to try it three times before it worked. I told her there should be no little braids or weaving, and no pomades or feathers in it because I especially wanted my hairpins to show." Elizabeth looked back over her shoulder at Darcy with an air of innocence. "They are the only thing holding it up, you know."
Darcy cleared his throat, then took her by the hand. "I hope you will excuse us, Richard. I am in need of a private word with my future wife." Leading her toward the doors opening into the garden, he murmured in her ear, "Very private."A Bonus Excerpt from Mr. Darcy's Refuge by Abigail Reynolds The break in the rain seemed like a sign. It meant Darcy could ride to the parsonage and discover what was troubling Elizabeth. Her friend Mrs. Collins had said she was ill, but his cousin averred that he had seen her but a few hours ago, and she seemed well then. Darcy would have thought Elizabeth would stop at nothing to come to Rosings tonight, his last night in Kent, and her last chance to ensnare him. Instead she had remained at the parsonage, leaving her friend to make her excuses to his aunt, Lady Catherine.
She must be avoiding him. There could be no other reason for her absence. But why? She had every reason to wish to be in his presence, unless she had decided that winning his love was a hopeless cause. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps his failure to declare himself had left her believing that he was simply toying with her. Perhaps she thought it would be too painful to see him tonight, knowing it would be for the last time. Darcy's mouth curved a little with the thought. Dearest Elizabeth! How happy she would be to receive his assurances of love.
Just at that moment, the pounding of rain against the windowpanes finally began to slacken as the thunder faded off into the distance. His aunt's attention was focused on rendering unwanted advice to Mrs. Collins while Richard was attempted to engage Anne in conversation. He could slip away unnoticed. It was definitely a sign.
Once he had escaped the gloomy sitting room, he lost no time in making his way to the stables. In a clipped voice he asked a sleepy groom to ready his curricle.
The man squinted up at him. "I don't know if that be such a good idea, sir. With those wheels, 'twould be a moment's work to find yourself stuck, the road is that deep in mud after all this rain."
"Then I will ride," Darcy said firmly. He would not allow bad roads to keep him from Elizabeth's side, not tonight.
Yawning, the groom went off to saddle his horse. Darcy helped himself to a riding crop from a shelf, then tapped it impatiently against his leg until he heard the clopping of hooves. The air hung heavy on him, thick and full of moisture. Much more of this rain and the crops would rot in the fields before they even had a chance to sprout. He would have to speak to his aunt about relief for the tenant farmers, but now was not the time to think about such matters.
Soon he would be in Elizabeth's presence, where he would finally be the recipient of her dazzling smiles and hopefully even more. Elizabeth would not be Miss-ish, certainly. It was not in her character. Yes, he had every reason to assume she would allow him to taste those seductive lips that had been tempting him almost past the point of sanity. His body filled with fire at the mere thought. He would finally feel her warmth in his arms and hold that shapely form against him, her shining energy at last his, only his.
He could not afford these thoughts, not now, or he would be in no condition to be in Elizabeth's presence. He disciplined himself to think of something else, anything else - the weather, his aunt's latest rant, his horse. He swung himself into the saddle, ignoring the groom's proffered assistance.
The groom had been correct about the condition of the road. The horse's hooves squelched and spewed out droplets of mud. Darcy kept to a slow walk, since he did not want to be covered with mud when he paid his addresses to Elizabeth. The pace seemed interminable, leaving far too much time for thought and memories.
Memories of his father, telling him he must marry an heiress because Georgiana's dowry would cut into the Pemberley coffers. His mother, taking him aside so that his father would not hear, reminding him that he was an earl's grandson. She had married beneath her because it was the only way she could escape from the fate her brother had planned for her, but once she had hoped to catch a viscount at the very least. Her voice still echoed in his ears. "Pemberley does not want for money or land. You must find yourself a titled lady to bring honor to the family name."
Then there was his aunt. Lady Catherine, who was determined that he marry her daughter. Darcy snorted at the thought of Lady Catherine's insistence that it had been his mother's wish for him to marry Anne de Bourgh. His mother would not have thought her own niece good enough for her son and heir.
For all these years Darcy had been determined to choose a bride who would have pleased both his mother and his father, but he had yet to meet an aristocratic heiress he could tolerate for an evening, much less a lifetime, and here he was, about to completely defy his parents' wishes by proposing to a lady whose breeding was questionable and whose fortune was non-existent. The scandal of it might even hurt Georgiana's chances at a brilliant match. How could he do this, knowing he was failing in his duty to his entire family?
His decision to follow his heart and marry Elizabeth had been the hardest of his life, and even now he had his doubts. He was being a fool and he knew it, but for once in his life he was in the grip of a passion beyond his control. He could not help himself. At least that was his excuse, though he could just imagine his father's scorn and the curl of his mother's lip if he had ever dared to say such a thing to them.
For a moment he considered reining in his horse and returning to Rosings free of the encumbrance of a distasteful alliance, but the memory of Elizabeth's sparkling eyes and the way the corner of her lips twitched when she was amused spurred him on. He had to have her. There was nothing else to be done, at least not without dishonoring himself more than he already was by making this proposal. The wild young men at White's would have some very different ideas about how he should slake his lust, caring nothing for who might pay the price as long as their own desires were fulfilled, but that was not for him. It was such things that made Darcy prefer Bingley's company over that of his peers. Bingley had been foolish to fall in love with Jane Bennet, but at least he had never considered dishonoring her. It had been marriage or nothing for Bingley, and it was the same for Darcy. But how would Bingley feel when he discovered that Darcy was marrying the sister of that same woman he had insisted was not good enough for his friend? He was a hypoc
The sucking sound of the hooves in deep mud gave way to the thud of horseshoes striking wooden planks as he crossed the bridge. The flood waters rushed loudly beneath him, the usually peaceful, meandering river now a raging torrent after the last month of pounding rain. Even in the darkness he was certain that the water must be over the banks by now. The wind was picking up again, starting to lash against his coat.
A flash of lightning split the night sky, causing his horse to shy. Darcy automatically quieted him as the rolling rumble of thunder seemed to make the very air tremble. His skin was tingling, a certain sign that another storm was in the offing. Yes, it was far better to think about floods and rain than to hear voices from the past railing at him.
By good fortune he reached the parsonage at the top of the hill just as the skies opened. Dismounting hurriedly, Darcy led his horse into the slight shelter of the eaves and tied his reins to the waiting ring. Silently he made his apologies to the horse who deserved better than the drenching he was about to receive. Under normal circumstances he would never treat one of his mounts in such a shabby manner, but tonight was not normal, and the shelter of a stable was a quarter mile further along.
He thanked his lucky stars that the front entryway was covered. Already a cold trickle had found its way down the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He rang the bell loudly, hoping someone would come quickly. No one would be expecting callers, and it would be hard to hear anything over the drumming of the rain and the rolling thunder.
The door was opened, not soon enough for Darcy's taste, by a timid, half-kempt maidservant holding a single candle. Clearly she had not expected her services to be needed tonight. He set his hat and gloves on a small table and brushed the remaining drops of rain from his coat. His valet would have fits were he to see his normally immaculate master in such disarray, but there was nothing to be done for it. He had a mission, and he meant to accomplish it. "I wish to see Miss Bennet," he told the girl in a clipped voice.