“That is a beautiful sonnet,” Darcy said defensively. He had been thinking about copying out that very poem.
“It is beautiful, and if you want, I can go down to the park and some talented person will have already copied out Sonnet Eighteen for you in a beautiful hand, and for a few pence more, you can get a sketch to go with it of some artist’s concept of Summer personified.” Despite his excellent advice, Antony could see that the man was still struggling. “For goodness’ sake, Darcy, all you have to do is think about that lovely creature during your most romantic moment together. Then pick up the pen and write.”
“Well, you have given me some ideas, so I thank you.”
“Before I go, I want you to know I will be leaving shortly. I have taken rooms in Kensington to be nearer to a dear friend.”
There was no doubt Madame Antonia Konig, lately of Vienna, was the dear friend he wanted to be nearer to, and Darcy’s expression said it all.
“Darcy, I know what you are thinking. Kensington! Ugh!”
Darcy just shook his head in disbelief. Only Antony would consider his move from Mayfair to Kensington to be the greater evil than the reason for the move—his mistress.
“I can see you do not approve. I had hoped that since your heart has so recently been touched, you might understand. But since you do not, please allow me to explain. I am deeply in love with Antonia, but because I am bound to the Evil Eleanor, I cannot marry her—which I would do if I did not have this millstone of a marriage around my neck. And there are other reasons. Because Antonia lives near Kensington Park, I was able to introduce Emmy and Sophie to her, and they got along famously. It is nice for my children to see a man and woman together in the same room without furniture being thrown about.”
“I am happy for you, Antony,” Darcy said, surprised at his own change of heart. “I know you never wanted to marry Eleanor, and it has been a disaster for you from the beginning. And you are right. Love does change you.”
Antony came over and put his arms around his cousin and hugged him.
“For God’s sake, Antony, you are not French.”
“I know. If I was, I would have kissed you.”
After Antony left, Darcy returned to the task at hand: writing a love letter to Elizabeth. But with his cousin’s advice fresh in his mind, he had no difficulty in choosing the moment to inspire him. It was in the study at Pemberley when Elizabeth had come to him seeking his help. When she came into the room, her hair was flowing over her shoulders, and her robe, obviously thrown on in haste, had fallen open, revealing the nightgown beneath. For a mere second, with the glow of the fire behind her, he had seen the outline of her body, and he had to fight his desire to pick her up, take her to the sofa, and make love to her. With such a glorious image in the forefront of his mind, Darcy picked up the pen and began to write.
Dearest Elizabeth,
Although we are apart, you are always in my thoughts. You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last before I close my eyes. Even in my sleep, you are with me, as you inhabit all my dreams. The remembrance of you in my arms is what sustains me. Is it wrong of me to tell you how much I want to kiss you, to hold you, to feel you against me? That is not something a gentleman should write, but your power over me is such that I want to be with you every minute of every hour so that we become one—“inseparable and complete.” Those words come from another, but they fit so well with what I am feeling that I believe they were composed for me, if not by me. The hours go slowly, but soon I shall be in Hertfordshire. Once we are together, it will require an act of God to separate us.
Love, Will
Darcy called for his manservant. “Ask Rogers to send that by express rider and make sure that it goes out today.” Well satisfied with the results, Darcy sat back in his chair and, after thinking about the contents of the letter, decided that he was rather good at this business of writing love letters. He only hoped Elizabeth would agree.
Chapter 46
As soon as Sir John Montford entered the parlor, he took the same chair his daughter occupied whenever she visited the Darcy townhouse. Remembering Georgiana’s comment about Miss Montford’s nose pointing toward the street, Darcy looked to see if it was a family trait. It wasn’t. But with such important business at hand, he had to chuckle to himself at the ridiculousness of thinking about someone’s nose at such a moment, but his amusement was short-lived, as his thoughts were interrupted by Sir John’s gruff voice.
“I assume you know why I am here?”
Darcy nodded, although he wasn’t quite sure what he was agreeing with.
“Darcy, I know your father was a liberal man, but he would not approve. I daresay he would not approve. You have gone too far.”
“You object to my politics?” Darcy asked.
“You know I do, and that is the seed that bore this rotten fruit. If it weren’t for your liberal notions, all of this Whig nonsense about Catholic emancipation and expanding the franchise and God only knows what else, you would never have treated my daughter the way you did.”
Darcy was not happy with his performance regarding Letitia, but he did not think he had mistreated her. And what on earth did Catholic emancipation and expanding the franchise have to do with anything? He almost wanted to laugh. He would have to make it a point to visit the House of Lords when Lord John Montford made his maiden speech. It should prove interesting.
“First, it was this Bingley fellow. Letitia told me you thought he was a gentleman. Well, let me set the record straight; he is not a gentleman. Nor are his sisters.” A flustered Sir John added, “You know what I mean.”
Darcy sighed in relief. At least now he understood what his transgression was: his association with his lower-class friends.
“Think of what your revolutionary ideas have done to your sister. To encourage my daughter to associate with people of such low rank, and then to learn that this Mrs. Garner would also be attending—the wife of a coffee broker—a man who earns his living by prowling the docks and negotiating prices. He is nothing more than a glorified peddler.”
“Forgive me, Sir John. I have not had an opportunity to speak with my sister, so I am not sure what you are referring to.”
“The tea, man. The tea. Miss Darcy came to my home yesterday for the purpose of inviting Letitia to tea. Fortunately, she mentioned the names of the guests to my daughter’s companion, who immediately informed me. I find your sister blameless in all this. But I must warn you, Darcy, her association with these people will affect her pursuit of a marriage partner. She will find offers scarce if this continues.”
“I appreciate your concern for Georgiana. However, I am her guardian, and I will do what I think is best for her,” Darcy said through gritted teeth. “By the way, my grandmother was a Catholic.”
Sir John noted the change in Darcy’s voice and knew he had strayed from the matter at hand. He moderated his tone, as he had no wish to offend a Darcy, especially since it was an association with the Darcy family that he had been after in the first place.
“I want no hard feelings between us, Darcy. However, I must ask that you stop seeing my daughter. She was not brought up to…”
“I understand your concerns, Sir John,” Darcy said, interrupting, “and if I have hurt your daughter in any way, it was not intentionally done. May I ask that you convey to Miss Montford my wishes for her health and happiness?” Darcy stood up to let Sir John know the conversation had come to an end.
“I thank you for taking this so agreeably. But a word of advice. Your idea of a courtship is rather unconventional. Coming and going, disappearing for weeks at a time, no letters. That will not win you the affection of any lady. I tell you this since your father was a friend of mine, and I am sure he would have given you the same advice.”