Chapter 2

The next evening, Lady Matlock took in her very handsome family with pleasure.

Lord Matlock, was sipping from his pre-dinner drink. He was lean and fit, even after thirty-five years of marriage. Lady Matlock encouraged him to indulge in his sports—fencing and riding—regularly. His full head of greying blond hair diminished his good looks not a jot. His crystal blue eyes remained clear and focused. He is an excellent husband and father. She smiled to herself, by my hand, as it were.

Across from her sat Langston; in looks and deeds, he was a younger version of his father. Though as Viscount Hopton he had won the birth order lottery, he was nothing like those vainglorious first sons of the ton. His inheritance was his passion; his loyalty to his family was nearly unmatched.

Her younger son, Richard, whilst unfavoured by the ton as a second son, boasted extraordinary accomplishments. He focused on his family and brooked no slight directed towards them. Since his brutal defence of his younger sisters years ago, no one dared denigrate a Fitzwilliam family member. His war exploits were a punctuation mark upon a reputation of renown.

A decorated cavalry officer, he never shied from a challenge that required his skills. Others may boast, but my Richard is the living embodiment of our family motto. He was home for the next six months. Sadly, it was to recover from battle wounds.

Had their husbands not taken Ellie and Phoebe abroad, our family party would be complete.

“Would you care to explain last evening’s mischief?” she asked, staring at her older son.

“Me?” He waved at his brother. “What about the war hero?”

“I am above the fray until summer’s end,” Richard said.

“That you are,” she confirmed. She sipped her sherry.

“Carlisle rarely leaves his estate. His assistance in taking Darcy down a peg made it un régal incomparable,” Langston admitted.

“I am happy for you to have your sport. But not when it interferes with your mother’s plans for Darcy,” Matlock admonished.

“Thank you, dear.” She turned to her sons. “Will one of you please explain the cause of your cousin’s malaise?”

“Which cousin?” asked Matlock, his smile brilliant.

Like fathers, like sons. “I do not need you to goad your progeny, sir.” Lady Matlock stared at him until he looked down into his drink. She turned to Langston.

He looked at his brother, who returned his glance and nodded slightly.

“Darcy is in love,” replied Langston.

She raised an eyebrow at Richard, who nodded.

“Who is she? What is her name? Who are her people?” she asked.

He drew figure eights in the air as if leading an orchestra. “Her name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is the second of five daughters to a country squire in Hertfordshire. She is considered one of two beauties of the county.”

“A gentleman’s daughter, at least,” she noted. “What else?”

Langston seemed to run through a mental list. He held up a finger. “Her mother’s brother is Mr Edward Gardiner.”

Lady Matlock smiled. Madeleine Lambert Gardiner was a very distant cousin and her particular friend. How pleasant it would be to have her as a closer connexion! She rang the bell on the side table.

“Yes, my lady?” asked the Matlock butler.

“See that his lordship has dinner at his club. I desire to have my children’s attention to myself.”

Matlock peered at her. She nodded once. He rose. “I shall look forward to your regaling me of this evening’s entertainment.” He kissed her hand. “Happy hunting, my dear,” he whispered, then departed.

“We three shall dine in the small parlour,” she announced. She suppressed a chuckle as both of her sons groaned.

As servants removed the soup course, Lady Matlock dabbed her lips. Her sons watched her every move. Her lovely boys! So handsome. So attentive. Let us begin this comedy.

She folded her serviette and placed it on the table, causing her sons to sit up straight. Servants departed and the doors closed.

“So, Darcy is in love? Well, enlighten me on the tale of this tragedy, which has continued to this day.”

Richard narrated Darcy’s foray to Hertfordshire, his reluctance to attend a country assembly, and his unintentional insult towards a lady to avoid Bingley’s entreaties to dance.

“Like father, like son,” mused Lady Matlock.

Langston and Richard exchanged gleeful looks. “Do tell, Mother,” urged Langston.

Lady Matlock closed her eyes briefly. She smelled tallow, peonies, and punch.

“It was in the Season of ’81. Mr George Darcy was the kingdom’s most eligible, non-titled bachelor. His parents had given him an ultimatum to marry before the year ended. They wanted an heir, but they desired a daughter-in-law of their choosing. Thus, every unmarried ‘Lady’ in the kingdom enjoyed a ‘silent dance’ with him. A scowl permanently marked his face by the time the harvest was due.”

“So, Darcy inherited his mask!” Langston interrupted.

“Lady Anne came out that year. Your grandmother had waited for the Harvest Ball to arrange for her to meet Mr Darcy. And meet him, she did.” Lady Matlock chuckled. “Darcy was speaking with a friend about his upcoming supper dance.

“When his friend asked who would be the next eligible lady he would dance with, Darcy did not care to look about when he answered, ‘Another Lady Insipid. Most likely as heavy in appearance as she is dowered.’”

“And Lady Anne heard him?” asked Richard, aghast.

“As did your grandmother.”

Langston leant back and blew a breath upward.

“Later, when Darcy’s mother presented him to the countess and Lady Anne, he nearly lost his composure.”

“Lady Anne was touted as the most beautiful lady to come out in a generation,” Langston remarked.

Richard cleared his throat.

Quickly he amended his statement, “That is to say, one of the most beautiful ladies... next to our own dear mother of course!”

“Thank you, my dears,” Lady Matlock replied. “In any case, he stared at their party all evening and was unceasingly brusque towards every eligible gentleman who danced with her. The thunderous look that remained on his face throughout that evening fed the ton’s penchant for gossip for weeks. They danced the supper set. Afterwards, he escorted her into the evening meal.”

Lady Matlock paused. “He walked in with a limp.”

“No!” Langston laughed.

“During a lull in the dining conversation, Lady Anne was heard apologising for her heavy feet.”

Lady Matlock joined in her sons’ laughter before insisting they continue the tale of their cousin’s folly.

Langston colourfully reiterated Darcy’s confessions of his growing regard during the week Miss Elizabeth spent under the same roof nursing her elder sister as that beauty had fallen ill.

“Are all the Bennet daughters so handsome?” she asked.

“Possibly, although according to Darcy, the family, except the eldest two, flaunt propriety.”

“Nothing time and attention cannot repair.” She turned to Richard. “That is not enough to cause Darcy reticence. What else?”

Richard looked at his empty setting, then narrowed his eyes at her.

“Of course. You are rehabilitating. Accept my apology.” Lady Matlock placed her serviette in her lap. The doors opened, and the next course followed.

In between bites, Richard explained Darcy and Bingley’s flight from the county. “He claims he was sparing his friend a loveless marriage.”

Lady Matlock snorted, causing both her sons to chuckle at the sound. “He fled his attraction.” She tapped a few notes upon her crystal wineglass with her fingernails. “I never imagined I would utter aloud the words ‘Darcy’ and ‘coward’ in the same sentence.”

Richard pursed his lips in a manner that let his mother know she would now hear a defence of Darcy’s actions. He was nothing if not his cousin’s best friend.

“His heart had been engaged for the first time since Lady Anne’s death. He knew not how to decipher his emotions.”

“I agree, my dear. He did not have a mother’s guidance during those very important years.” She looked at Richard’s plate then motioned to a footman. “The Colonel shall have a second serving.”

Richard rolled his eyes.

“It is a mother’s prerogative, my dear. I promised Mr Burton you would add a stone in weight by summer’s end; I am very near to my goal.”

When Richard had first returned home from the continent, wounded, she had fiercely embraced him, tearful and thankful he still lived. She was appalled that she felt his ribs through his uniform. Several months later, his colour had improved, and his clothing no longer fell like drapery upon his frame.

As he addressed his food, she turned to Langston. “Pray, continue.”

“Darcy was nearly over his attraction until his annual foray to Kent.”

“For the sake of St Peter, Lady Catherine strikes again?” she asked.

“No, Mother. Not Lady Catherine nor Cousin Anne.” He paused. “At Hunsford, visiting her best friend, who had married Lady Catherine’s parson, was our Circe.”

Lady Matlock chuckled. “Darcy encountered Miss Elizabeth unknowingly at Rosings Park? How delightful the irony!”

They awaited the next course. “That must have put the boot on the other foot,” she mused.

“It did,” confirmed Richard.

“How so?” she asked.

Langston continued the tale. “Miss Elizabeth had nothing but contempt for Darcy. In her eyes, he had separated her sister from a heartfelt match, as he did not discern the eldest Miss Bennet’s regard for his friend.”

“Who would give Darcy leave to judge matters of the heart? No one is less equipped to do so than he,” she remarked.

“Bingley did,” Richard replied.

“Darcy’s friend is now landed?”

“He leased a property that shares a border with the Bennet estate,” Langston said.

“I see. Darcy’s overweening pride made him accept an invitation to instruct his friend further.”

Both men nodded, then Langston continued the story. “Darcy interpreted her words in as opposite a manner as one could. Her barbs and teasing insults were music to his untrained ear. He believed she was seeking his attention. She, on the other hand, was warning him off.”

Lady Matlock sighed. “Acta, non verba.”

“Actions, not words,” repeated her sons.

“What did Darcy do this time?” she asked. “And can it be undone?”

“Darcy applied for her hand. She refused him. Vociferously,” replied Richard. “He listed his objections to all her family’s faults and those he had reconciled himself to overcome to qualify his extraordinary condescension for offering for her.”

Lady Matlock sighed and concluded, “And so, Darcy fled Kent and his attraction.”

As the servants cleared the next course, a random thought formed. She recalled a missed summer month in Ashdale because of a town charity concern. Mrs Gardiner had missed that meeting because of a family foray to her home county. She put two and two together and nearly cackled. Nearly. No, Providence cannot be so accommodating!

Over a syllabub, she posed her theory. “What occurred this past summer at Pemberley between Darcy and Miss Elizabeth?”

“How did you know?” Langston asked.

“Never you mind. Tell me all.”

“Darcy arrived before his party and encountered Miss Elizabeth and the Gardiners, who were taking a tour. He was a changed man. He had kept her reproofs at the forefront of his mind. He wanted to show her he deserved another chance. Rekindled hope flamed, then dwindled.”

“Dwindled, you say?”

“Yes, dwindled. Miss Elizabeth’s youngest sister ran off with George Wickham. Darcy hied off to London and rectified all.”

Not all was lost, then.

“So, in a nutshell, our hero feels he has no hope as he is dutifully responsible for saving the reputation of his lover’s family by shackling a sister to a degenerate. The heroine knows not of his actions but self-recriminates over her family’s wretched behaviour.”

“The blind leading the blind,” ventured Langston.

Lady Matlock stood; her sons followed. Once ensconced in more comfortable seating, she put her palms together as if praying.

“Does that tradesman pup still follow at Darcy’s heels?”

“If you are referring to Bingley, he does,” Langston replied.

“How delightful for Darcy,” she replied drolly. She turned to Richard. “Do you still correspond with Anne?”

“I do.”

“What was the name of her caretaker?”

“Mrs Jenkinson,” he replied.

With her lips nearly kissing her fingertips, she minutely clapped her hands several times.

“Here is what you two shall do.”