“Where is Jane?” he asked, nodding at her butler’s offer of tea.
Caroline waved off the butler, announcing she would pour, and then stared blankly at him for a second. “Oh, yes! Jane. Jane has gone to London with the baby. She is seeing her doctors there.”
“I hope they are in good health. That isn’t the problem about which Charles means to talk, I hope?” Why ever would Jane be in London, seeing doctors, without Charles? Apprehension brought Darcy forward on his seat. If anything were to happen to her beloved sister Jane, Elizabeth would be devastated.
“Oh heavens, not in the least. She and the child are visiting her aunt and uncle Gardiner. Please calm yourself. Charles will join her there shortly. She is doing splendidly, and so is the little one.”
Relieved, Darcy rested back again in the chair, fumbling for his pocket watch and instead finding the locket Lizzy had slipped inside. The feel and look of it was familiar and an immediate comfort to him, bringing a quick grin to his face. Lizzy knew him so well. The locket had been given to her when she was a small child by her mother, and it meant the world to her. It contained some of Lizzy’s first baby locks. What a conniver she had become! Well, maybe I can find out what’s wrong and have my solicitor take over the problem. I can send off a message to Hastings & Griggs tomorrow and then leave early Friday morning, back home by the afternoon. Thirty miles is not a great distance. That thought brought back a vivid remembrance of one of his and Lizzy’s early battles, that long year before they wed, and in particular, his opinion that the thirty miles between Rosings Park and her parent’s home, Longbourn, were not nearly enough. He winced with the memory. God but he had been insufferably arrogant with her in those days.
“Do you know what Charles was contacting me about?” Darcy asked finally, replacing the locket in his pocket.
“I haven’t a clue. He doesn’t share his personal information with me, and I don’t share my private, personal life with him.”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood in alarm, and his eyes glanced up quickly as Caroline advanced toward him with his tea. He tried in vain to deflect his vision from the exposed mass of white flesh bouncing toward him. Her low-cut gown, though perfectly in fashion, left nothing to the imagination. Nothing about Caroline was left to the imagination.
Suddenly, the immense parlor seemed too small to contain them both. In panic, Darcy began to rise, but she pressed his shoulder, encouraging him to sit back and relax. Her breast just slightly skimmed his ear as she leaned across him to pour cream into his cup. “Let me service you, sir,” she whispered. “It’s not often I have the opportunity to please a man as handsome as yourself.” Deep cleavage loomed before him.
Elizabeth will rip my head off. His thoughts were calm, his castration inescapable.
“You will stay for dinner, won’t you?” Caroline continued as she settled back into her chair. Darcy was squirming in her presence, and his reaction thrilled her. It was, after all, a reaction she was completely expecting. She could afford to go slowly now; they had all night. “Hopefully, Charles will be home by then. He must be mortified to have had to leave like this; he’s such a kind soul and would be devastated if he thought he had offended you in any way. Pray, do not become angry with him over this and storm off.”
“No, of course not, Caroline. Charles is the finest of friends. I don’t mind in the least.” His hand clutched Lizzy’s locket.
“What do you hide in your pocket, by the way? I am intrigued by what little I have seen as you keep returning to it over and over. Is it some extravagant watch fob you’ve purchased? A diamond stickpin, perhaps, or a pearl? I do adore pearls.”
“Far from it, Caroline.” He held the locket loosely in his hand, the chain dangling. “As you can see, it is a very simple, inexpensive locket.” She reached out her hand, and he reluctantly placed it there. “It is my wife’s,” he said meaningfully.
“A child’s heart locket, with a cutting of hair. How quaint.” Her lip curled as she swiftly assessed what little monetary value it held. Smiling politely, she turned the locket over and over in her hand and then returned it to him.
It was seven o’clock in the evening, and Charles had still not returned, so Caroline called for the dinner to be served. They ate a delicious meal and talked of old friends and common acquaintances. Caroline could be a very warm and charming companion when it served her purpose, and she had many humorous stories of Carlton House escapades. A gracious hostess, she frequently signaled for the wineglasses to be refilled.
“Caroline, this has been a very pleasant evening, but I am growing concerned about Charles. I hope nothing’s happened to him on the road.”
“More than likely his meetings went over time. Perhaps he has taken refuge for the night. You know very well that my brother, Charles, can easily become muddled. Business affairs go quite over his head. He doesn’t possess your natural brilliance and experience. Frankly, I am of the belief that his attentions have been so taken with his marriage and new family that a problem arose of which he was unaware until it grew too late. He is most fortunate to have a friend like you to whom he may turn.”
Darcy had never been someone who appreciated or sought out flattery and was becoming more and more guarded with Caroline’s adulation. In possession of an accurate and honest opinion of himself, knowing most of his own strengths and admitting to more than a few weaknesses, he rarely courted others’ approval. He eyed Caroline narrowly. Her brother had left the house and never returned, and she appeared unconcerned by it all? Something was not right about all this. The Caroline he knew was many things: self centered, amoral, cruel, calculating, and diabolical. However, she was a good sister. She loved her brother.
He was also keenly aware that they were alone, late at night, in this big house deep in the country, thirty miles away from his wife, a wife who would slaughter him if she ever found out. Good God. He had a mental image of three cackling Lizzies standing before a caldron, stirring and stirring what appeared to be his head grinning from the pot, his eyebrow raised in slight alarm. He chuckled and looked toward the fireplace.
“It’s so good to see you smile and relax, Mr. Darcy. You are devastatingly handsome at rest but even more so when you smile. I daresay that your responsibilities have more than doubled now with your new family. I’m sure that you often wish to have some time away from all those obligations and give yourself… relief?” Above her wineglass, she smiled wickedly at him, the last word of that sentence a taunting question. Darcy’s heart started to quicken as her tongue licked the rim of her glass. She had a long, soft tongue—he remembered that.
“It is too late now for you to return to your aunt’s estate. More’s the pity, the roads are treacherous after all this rain we’ve had. Charles would insist that you stay here in your old rooms this night. He will return soon, I am quite certain, possibly even later this evening. Let us retire into the drawing room and have our brandy.”
As they sat and talked before the warm fire, the effects of the wine and the brandy began to percolate, and Darcy had to remind himself not to have too much of a pleasant evening. But, God in heaven, it was a relief to be away from the stress of the baby and the estate problems of his aunt’s, his sister’s fears about the upcoming presentation, his cousin’s guilt from the war—even if for just a few hours. Yes, it was like old times to sit here with Caroline and flirt and laugh and gossip about old friends. And drink. How long since he had felt the effects of a tad too much alcohol? In fact, he was already good and foxed. He closed his eyes as the room spun around him, resting his head on the back of the chair while he loosened his neck cloth. He shook his head vigorously and squeezed his eyes. Nothing was helping.