Chapter Thirteen

September 23, 1810

Darcy House

London

Darcy

Darcy made the journey to London in good time and soon settled into his study, immersing himself in business matters . Letters from his steward spoke of the harvest and the preparations underway to see it through. His Aunt Tilda wasted no time in sending a summons—could it be called anything less? Darcy had agreed to dine with them in two days’ time. Georgiana would also attend, as it was to be a small, family-only affair.

A letter from his cousin Richard awaited his attention. The colonel would be in London on leave in a few days and requested a room at Darcy House during his stay. Mother is determined to have me married off before I must return to my regiment, Richard had written. I will not have it, and so I must throw myself upon your mercy. Darcy was always glad to host Richard and wasted no time in penning a reply.

Charles Bingley had also written, asking Darcy to join him at their club for luncheon the next week. Or was it this week? Bingley had terribly blotted the date, and Darcy sighed as he attempted to decipher his friend’s atrocious penmanship. He would have to send a note to Bingley asking for clarification.

Another less welcome letter sat amongst the stack. Lady Catherine had written, demanding that Darcy spend Christmas in Kent to finalise wedding plans for him and her daughter. He set it aside, knowing his reply would require careful handling, lest Lady Catherine descend upon London to berate him in person.

Despite all that demanded his attention, Darcy’s thoughts lingered on Elizabeth. He wondered what she was doing in Ramsgate and dearly wished he could write to her to enquire. He briefly considered sending a man to Ramsgate bearing a letter, but quickly discarded the idea. They would think him mad! Besides, he had no way of knowing whether the letter would traverse time if he was not in residence.

Everywhere he looked, he saw Elizabeth’s image—at his dinner table, in the library, seated at his pianoforte… The thoughts were constant, and despite his best efforts, he could not banish them entirely. Richard’s timely arrival proved a welcome distraction.

“Hello, Cousin!” the colonel cried, barging into his study without being announced. “Why the long face? Has the dog died?”

“I do not have a dog, Rich,” Darcy chuckled. “No, it is merely business concerns which occasion my scowl. Tell me, how long shall I have the pleasure of your company?”

“Six weeks, mayhap a little longer.” Richard shrugged. “There is talk of a change in command. They may reassign me to the continent. Have you heard? There is war brewing in France.”

Darcy grimaced. He had heard the news months before Richard. “Yes, I have heard of it,” he said. “Is the Home Office concerned about Napoleon?”

“They do not believe the little Frenchman poses much of a threat,” Richard answered slowly.

“I gather that you disagree?”

Richard nodded, fiddling with his cufflinks. “He has annexed Holland and Westphalia. Such men are never content with a little war. No, they must expand their empires to the farthest reaches of the Earth and beyond.”

“Much like our own empire,” Darcy mused.

“Our troops are spread rather thin,” Richard agreed. “Mark my words, they will begin bolstering the militias and calling for new recruits to the Regulars before long.”

“You would know better than I, and so I bow to your judgement.” Darcy pulled a stack of letters from the corner of his desk. “On another matter, I have narrowed down the list of candidates for Georgiana’s companion.”

“She is not to return to school?” Richard looked baffled.

“Did I not write of it?” Darcy recounted his sister’s circumstances, and Richard agreed with his decision to keep her home.

“Tell me of your candidates.”

“The first is Arabella Frost,” Darcy said immediately. “I have her letters of reference, but further enquiries suggest she is as cold as her name implies.”

“Georgiana would wilt under such a creature,” Richard agreed.

“The second is more favourable. Her name is Martha Stewart. By all accounts, she is matronly and warm. Her accomplishments are not what I would hope; she lacks experience with languages and the pianoforte, but I believe she would be agreeable for our girl.”

“And the last?”

“Agatha Younge. She is a young widow, and her references are impeccable. She has aided the daughters of earls and baronets in their come outs in recent years. Her knowledge of French, Italian, and Spanish is extensive; she is a gifted musician; and she is younger than most, which would suit Georgie well. Whilst I desire a companion to guide her, I also wish for Georgiana to view the lady as a friend.”

Richard nodded. “I propose we interview Mrs Younge and Mrs Stewart. One of them will surely suit.”

“Agreed,” Darcy replied. “I shall instruct my man to send note at once.”

“I will take myself off to my room until dinner,” Richard replied. “My usual suite?”

Darcy nodded absently, already focused on future interviews with candidates. His cousin saw himself out.

Within a week, Darcy hired Mrs Younge as Georgiana’s companion. With her employment, his sister no longer required his attention for several hours each day. The extra time was both a blessing and a curse. He managed his affairs with far greater efficiency, but it left him with too much time to brood.

~

Richard was quick to notice his preoccupation. “What ails you, cousin?” he asked one evening as they enjoyed a glass of port. “You are in a brown study, and I do not know what to make of it. I have never seen you so distracted.”

Darcy shrugged. Was he to tell his cousin that he was in love with a woman he had never met, let alone one who lived two years in the future? “It is nothing,” he dissembled.

“If it is nothing, I shall eat my hat! Who is she? Some fair-faced girl just out of the schoolroom? A buxom country lass?”

“What makes you think it is a lady?”

Richard scoffed. “An actress then? Or the milkmaid!”

Darcy scowled. “That is not what I meant. How can you speculate that my preoccupation is due to a woman? Could it not be estate matters? Investments? The coming harvest?”

His cousin looked at him knowingly. “All these things you have faced before, and they have never rendered you a distracted fool. No, it is certainly a lady who has you so tangled up. Tell me about her. What is her name? What county does she call home?”

“I cannot say,” Darcy stammered.

“Cannot or will not?” Richard countered.

“Cannot! It is a peculiar situation, and I do not know what to make of it.”

Richard produced a flask from his coat and added some of the liquid to two empty glasses. “Then I shall ply you with drink until your tongue loosens,” he chortled. “Come, Darcy. It would not do to waste Pater’s French brandy. It is better than port, anyway.”

“The earl will skin you alive for stealing his best,” Darcy murmured, taking a sip.

Before long, the entire story had spilled out. Richard had surprisingly few questions for him and seemed to accept the entire tale with very little skepticism.

“There is only one thing for it,” he said when Darcy concluded. “You must find a way to see her. Not in two years, but now.”

“Am I to travel to Hertfordshire and throw myself at her feet? Oh, yes, that would be a fine idea.”

“You said she has relations in Town. Investigate and see if you can encounter her. Or come to know the relations. They might throw her into your path.”

A memory tickled Darcy’s mind. “I have it!” he blurted. Opening a desk drawer, he retrieved Elizabeth’s letters. After a moment of searching, he found it.

“Here.” He thrust the letter at his cousin. “She is in London in October of this year! I could see her at Hatchard’s.”

“There is no date,” Richard said, bewildered.

“I do not need one. There is enough information here to deduce that she will be in the shop during the last week of October. That is but three weeks away. I can watch for her.”

Richard raised his brow. “So, you will skulk about the shop just waiting for her to appear?”

“I know what she looks like… roughly, at least. It could work, and it would not require me to appear in Meryton unannounced.”

“Going to her home would certainly be easier, but if you meet her in the past, would you alter the course of her future?”

Darcy shrugged. “I do not know. This is as much a mystery to me as you.”

“Start with Hatchard’s, then. If you grow desperate, we can contrive some way for you to meet her.” Richard downed his glass in one gulp.

Darcy was silent for a time before recalling something else his cousin ought to know. “Wickham came to the Lake House,” he said softly.

Richard snorted. “What did that reprobate want this time?”

“He wished for me to bestow the Kympton living upon him when Mr Graham retires.”

“The gall of the man!” Richard laughed uproariously. “You turned him down, I hope?”

“I did. He has vowed revenge.”

“How frightening. Are you shaking in your boots?” Richard poured himself more brandy and held the glass without taking a drink.

“Wickham is harmless. He speaks of grand plans but lacks the ambition or means to carry out his threats.” Darcy gathered Elizabeth’s letters and returned them to their place. “I am not concerned about him. Now, I must retire. I have meetings with my solicitor in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Cousin,” Richard said before yawning widely. “I shall not be long behind you.”

“Do me a favour and save some of the brandy for tomorrow.”

~

The weeks of October passed in a haze and before Darcy knew it, the last week of the month had arrived. He began visiting Hatchard’s, spending hours there. He would choose a book and settle into a chair in the corner where he could watch the door. At the end of each day, he would purchase a stack of books to please the proprietor, who, in return, let him be.

On the third day, she came. The bell to the shop jingled as the door opened, and Darcy glanced up from the tome in his hand, fully expecting the new arrival to be anyone but Elizabeth. Yet there she was, a vision before him. Her likeness had not prepared him for the true beauty of his lady. She hid her hair under a fashionable bonnet, save for the dark and lustrous curls that framed her lovely face and teased her alluring nec k . She was smiling at something her companion had said, which caused her eyes to sparkle.

Her eyes are very fine! Darcy thought. He glanced at her companion and recognised an older version of Miss Madeline Partridge—Mrs Gardiner, Elizabeth’s aunt.

“I will not be long,” Elizabeth assured the lady. Her voice was melodic, warm, and rich. Darcy was entranced.

“You always say that when we come to Hatchard’s and yet we invariably spend an hour here.” Mrs Gardiner laughed, with no hint of censure in her tone.

Darcy watched Elizabeth move towards the back of the shop. He rose slowly, tucking the book he had been reading under his arm, and with measured steps, followed her to the same row of shelves. He watched discreetly as she examined one volume after another, discarding each.

“Ah ha!” she exclaimed softly, as her eyes alighted on a book gracing the top shelf. Stretching up on her toes, she still fell short by several inches. She was quite petite; Darcy easily towered over her.

“May I be of assistance?” he asked quietly but startling her just the same.

“Oh, would you, sir?” she asked, her expression hopeful and grateful. “It is that book on botany there. My father has the other two volumes. We have been searching for this one for months!”

“I have the entire collection myself,” Darcy replied, stepping closer. His gaze fixed on her countenance, he drank in her vibrancy, committing every detail to memory. Without looking away, he reached up and retrieved the book. Slowly, he lowered his arm and held it out to her.

Elizabeth’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink as she took the volume gingerly. “I thank you, sir,” she whispered before turning to flee down the row.

“Anything for you, Elizabeth.” He spoke, but she did not hear him.

Far from satisfying his need, seeing Elizabeth only heightened his desire to be with her once more. Business soon pulled him away from London, preventing him from impulsively going to Hertfordshire. He was more in love with her than ever! How he would survive the coming months was beyond his understanding.