“Darcy, what are you talking about? You must go to Pemberley.”
“Out of the question,” he said, shaking his head. “I will not even consider it, and if you want to know why, I shall tell you. After our discussion the other night in which we decided that Miss Elizabeth had not been injured, I came to a different conclusion. She may not have had expectations of a marriage proposal, but flirtations are hopeful things, full of promise, and I cannot believe that at some time in all those weeks that she had not looked for a different outcome.”
“If that is what you truly believe, then you really must go to Pemberley. If her hopes have truly been elevated, then they should be brought down in increments, not in one deafening crash when you attend the wedding of her sister to Charles Bingley with your betrothed. My suggestion would be for you to go to Derbyshire and let her know that you wish to remain friends.”
Darcy sat back in his chair and looked at the brandy-filled glass as the candlelight passed through it, the crystal providing clarity as to the wine’s color and texture and to his thoughts as well.
“I have no one to blame for the situation I find myself in but me. I had this list in my head of what was required of a prospective bride for Fitzwilliam Darcy, and with Miss Montford, I was able to check off many of the items on the list: attractive, accomplished, good dancer, pleasant personality, an agreeable companion for Georgiana, granddaughter of an earl, and someone who moved in the highest tiers of London society. Through a process of elimination, I decided that she was the one I would marry, so that I might have a son and heir.
“Richard, if it were not so damn depressing I could almost laugh. Logical, careful, and methodical Fitzwilliam Darcy, who does everything by the numbers so that nothing is overlooked and plans are made for every contingency, messed up badly. The one thing I failed to factor in to all this courtship business was that I would fall in love with someone else.”
Chapter 23
As soon as Mr. Darcy departed, Miss Montford went to the window to make sure that he was truly gone. When she saw him wave off the hackney, she was afraid he might return. But with her nose pressed to the pane, she watched as he continued walking in the direction of his house, and she let out a sigh of relief. With tears in her eyes, she went to the small sitting room adjacent to the parlor where Mrs. Redford, her companion and chaperone, sat during her visits with Mr. Darcy. This was not a secret because the rocking of Mrs. Redford’s chair and the clicking of her knitting needles provided a rhythmic background to all their conversations.
Mrs. Redford, who had taken the place of Letitia’s mother when Lady Margaret had died when the child was eight, came over and gave her a hug, and she clung to her companion in absolute misery. Letitia took out an embroidered handkerchief from a drawer stuffed full of them.
“It had such a promising beginning, but now…” After dabbing everything that was wet, she explained what had gone wrong. “When Papa introduced me to Mr. Darcy, I could hardly believe he was interested in me at all, but I was flattered by his attention. At first, we talked about all those things that one is supposed to talk about in a ballroom: dancing, the number of couples, the weather, plays at Haymarket, and the opera. But then things started to change. I noticed he became impatient when I talked about the weather. Then at the public ball at Merritt’s, he introduced me to Charles Bingley, and Mr. Bingley asked me to dance. What could I say? He is a friend of Mr. Darcy’s, and although he is most agreeable company, he is not a gentleman. And then he asked if I knew Mr. Bingley’s sisters. How would I know them? We have no friends in common.
“Tonight was the worst of all. He spoke of subjects that are of no interest to me. I do not care where my tea comes from. I know little of the exploits of the explorers, and Papa absolutely forbids any discussion about America because they overthrew their lawful king. Yet Mr. Darcy admires them, and I know that Papa would find that most objectionable. And he has befriended a coffee broker person, and this man, Mr. Gardiner, and his wife are now at Pemberley with their niece, who is sister to Mr. Bingley’s betrothed. He is forming a circle of friends with people not of my station. Am I to be expected to entertain them in our home? To visit them at their estates and in their homes?
“But the very worst was when he said he had always encouraged his sister to be independent and told me that she has gone to Pemberley with people new to her acquaintance and without a male relation. Will Mr. Darcy expect me to be independent? Will he put me in a carriage and send me off on my own?
“Mr. Jasper Wiggins is not like him at all,” Letitia continued to complain through her sniffles. “He loves talking about the weather and is excellent at guessing the number of couples in a ballroom. Mr. Wiggins was acceptable to Papa as a suitable marriage partner for me because he comes from a prominent banking family, and his father is to be knighted. But once Mr. Darcy came to the house, Mr. Wiggins was pushed aside, and now Papa will make me marry Mr. Darcy.” She then burst into tears. “And he is such a big man.”
Mrs. Redford continued to listen to Letitia’s complaints through bouts of sobbing, but she had already heard enough. The facts of the matter were that Mr. Darcy did not love Letitia, and Letitia was a nervous wreck around Mr. Darcy. It was obvious to Mrs. Redford that both individuals wanted to get out of the relationship. The obstacle was Sir John, who was determined to have Mr. Darcy as a son-in-law, and she knew why. If Letitia were to marry into one of the oldest families in the realm that would be a real feather in Sir John’s cap. Connections—this was all about connections.
Sir John, who had spent most of the last two months in the country shooting, believed that all was well in London. He had no idea how distressed his youngest daughter was. But Mrs. Redford understood her employer and knew well his weaknesses. He was a vain, self-important man, and, hopefully, his vanity and snobbery would be Letitia’s way out and, for that matter, Mr. Darcy’s as well.
Chapter 24
Mrs. Redford was not alone in her scheming. Colonel Fitzwilliam was enjoying his time away from his regiment and his commanding officer, a total incompetent, whose only rival was the Prince of Wales. The prince had come to Kent to review the troops, and with every inch of his tailored uniform decorated with unearned military honors, he had looked like a bejeweled stuffed sausage. It was at that moment that Richard had thought about selling his commission. But for the time being, his own affairs had to be put aside because his cousin was in danger of making a disastrous mistake, and because he had to move quickly, his military training would serve him well.
Richard’s plan was unconventional and involved enlisting the support of his brother, Antony, Lord Fitzwilliam. Antony had married Eleanor Henley, the daughter of the 2nd Earl Henley, and with the exception of his two lovely daughters, the marriage had been a disaster. The misery of his marriage had set him on a course of reckless spending, excessive drinking, and gaming, as well as bedding half the married women in London society, resulting in more than one close call with a husband.
In order to prevent Darcy from visiting Anne in Kent, he needed a rider to go to Rosings to update their cousin on the swirl of events taking place in London, and for that, Richard was in need of the services of Gregg, Antony’s manservant, an accomplished horseman. Richard brought his brother up to date on the disaster-in-the-making that was the Montford/ Darcy courtship.