Chapter Two

November 1810

London

Darcy

"Tell me, Darcy," his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, said, pulling up a chair. "What has you in such a dither? Your scowl could ward off Napoleon's armies!"

"I hardly know where to begin," Darcy replied. "The events of today have puzzled me exceedingly." Darcy told his cousin everything that had occurred from the moment the butler turned him away from the Smith's door to the information his valet had imparted.

"I have suspected for some time that something had occurred to cause Miss Smith to cool her affections, so I suppose I am not overly surprised at her sudden removal from town. More puzzling are the actions of those I encountered in the park. I can never leave my townhouse without being inundated with greetings and excessive bowing or scraping. Today, however, people treated me with disdain or completely ignored."

Richard's reply was sarcastic. "You are one to be pitied. Poor Fitzwilliam Darcy! Heaven forfend that you should not be given what is your due."

"That is not fair!" Darcy cried. "I am only remarking on the very great difference in the manner of people that I encountered today."

"What is it you wish from me?"

"I wish to understand if I am being blamed for Miss Smith's disgrace. I want to know if my honor is being called into question." Darcy sighed and ran a hand over his face wearily.

"Yes, the great Darcy honor ," Richard teased. "Very well, cousin, I shall make my inquiries, and I shall do it with the utmost discretion."

"Consider using your Batman," Darcy suggested. "People may be slow to confide in you, given our relationship."

Richard waved his hand in acknowledgment. "Yes, yes, I will see it done. Never fear, Cousin! Your honor and good name are safe with me."

Darcy thanked his cousin profusely, and Richard promised to return on the morrow with any relevant information he discovered. "I would suggest you remain here tonight, old chap," he said upon parting. "No need to stir up the hornet's nest any more than necessary."

Darcy agreed; he had no prior engagement, anyway. He would spend the evening perusing a book or two or answering his sister's latest letter. Miss Georgiana Darcy was at a seminary here in town, and her latest missive was certain to contain more pleadings for her brother to remove her from the place.

~

Richard returned the next day just after breakfast, his face grim as he imparted his findings to his cousin.

"I attended a soiree with my mother last night, coincidentally hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Upton, whom you met in the park yesterday. Your name was on the lips of every matron there! It would seem, cousin, that you are cursed."

"What do you mean, cursed?" Darcy spluttered as his cousin finished speaking.

"The society matrons have declared you unmarriageable and have vowed to keep their daughters away from you. Even the lure of Pemberley and ‘ten thousand a year' will not convince them otherwise. They say that every lady you show even the slightest hint of favor ends up ruined, hurt, or hurriedly married."

Darcy sighed and ran a hand over his face. They were not wrong. He had come to the same conclusion last night. Over a glass of port and a good book, he realized that every time he attempted to court a lady, it ended badly.

"Is there any truth to what they say?" Richard pressed.

"There is some," Darcy confirmed. "The first was Miss Anne Tomlinson, back in 1806. I danced with her a few times and took her for a ride in my curricle. I knew I was not the only one pursuing her hand, but I was the wealthiest and thought I had a fair chance."

Darcy's eyes grew blurry with his recollections, so fresh on his mind after his epiphany the night before.

His godmother, Lady Adelia Newton , had recommended Miss Anne Tomlinson to his notice. Miss Tomlinson was a handsome, tall, and thin lady with black hair and green eyes and was considered the Incomparable that season. More than one young buck was eager to win her heart and her hand. Darcy had only just returned to town after his father's death, and he knew he had an advantage. Most of the other suitors had not yet inherited, thus the attraction of a man who had already come into his inheritance was superior.

Amidst parties, balls, and soirees, Darcy had tried to know Miss Tomlinson and to turn her favor toward him. He thought he was succeeding, since she responded favorably to his overtures. One particular afternoon stood out in his mind. They had taken his curricle to Hyde Park, and Miss Tomlinson had quietly confided that her greatest wish was to be loved and to love in return and that she believed she had finally found what she sought. Darcy had believed that she meant him, but the news that came just weeks later had shattered that illusion.

"Then?" Richard pressed.

He returned his attention to his cousin. "Then, before I could approach her father, he whisked her away to the country and she was quietly wed to a moderately wealthy squire. She had a child less than eight months later." That had been a blow. Darcy wondered if the squire was the father of her child, but he doubted it. The entire affair had been far too patched up for such to be the case.

"Tell me more," Richard encouraged.

"In 1807, it was Miss Jane Robertson," Darcy continued. "Do you remember her? Daughter of a baronet with a healthy dowry. She had dark hair and eyes and a tall and willowy figure." Yes, Miss Robertson had been an attractive prospect, indeed. She was her father's heir and brought with her an estate, along with thirty thousand pounds for her dowry. The property was in Herefordshire and was a prosperous piece of land, bringing in five thousand pounds a year. It would have been ideal for a younger son.

"Yes, I recall," Richard replied when Darcy did not immediately continue.

He sighed. "It was a similar story. We danced, we laughed together, and I called often. After a month of courtship, she dismissed her other suitors, and I believed myself to be her choice. Then, the unthinkable happened—before I could approach her father, she broke her leg after a horse threw her. The family was so distressed by her accident that they barred visitors from the house. I believe they feared for her life, for if she had died, then the estate would have gone to a distant cousin, whom I understood to be dissolute and debauched. I inquired daily, and after a few weeks, they stopped accepting my calls, such was their anxiety for their daughter. By the time Miss Robertson was well enough for visitors, I had returned to Pemberley for the summer. When we met again, she was engaged to an earl from her mother's home shire."

Darcy leaned back and folded his arms, regarding Richard solemnly. "Rumors at the time claimed that someone had purposely spooked her horse, though no one ever proved it. Apparently, when she came to after being knocked unconscious by the fall, she said she saw a man in the bushes throw a stone at her. I have heard that, to this day, she refuses to ride.

"After that, there was Miss Victoria Simmons. We were friendly enough, and I considered courting her after we engaged in a few stimulating conversations. Likewise, she favored my company, and we tried to attend the same events so that we could further our acquaintance. Tragedy struck one evening when we were at a private ball. She favored me with the supper set and was my dinner partner that evening. I remember trying the white soup and commenting on its flavor when I noted her exceedingly pale complexion. Miss Simmons hurried away from the table with her mother close on her heels. I heard from servants that she was violently ill from something she ate that night and nearly died. They took her off to the country to recover. Since there was no official courtship, our budding romance fell to pieces. The last I heard, she married the owner of a neighboring estate."

Darcy paused for a moment to take a drink from his glass before continuing. "After Miss Simmons, I called on Lady Amelia Covington. You knew her, of course. The daughter of an earl, and though older than I, she was well-regarded, refined, and eminently suitable for the position of Mistress of Pemberley. I called on her twice and accompanied her once to the theater. Her behavior was scrupulously proper, or so I thought, but… she went the same way as Miss Tomlinson."

"I remember," Richard murmured. "My mother is Lady Amelia's godmother. Her family took her to Scotland to have the child. When the earl discovered her condition and rumors circulated, the lady's reputation was ruined. She died in childbirth, the babe along with her. Mother tells me the family has never returned to town. They did not implicate you as the cause of their misery, though."

Darcy scoffed. "I should imagine not! Our acquaintance was not of enough duration to even be called a courtship." He sighed. "I tried to call on a few other ladies, but by the time Lady Amelia's fate became known, I doubted my judgment regarding women. The families of these ladies have all absolved me of any nefariousness, but the ton has been slow to forget their downfall. I stopped trying to court anyone in 1808. It was only this year that I resolved to try again. Alas, once again, I was thwarted."

Darcy took a long drink from his glass. "Now, to my most recent attempt. At the end of the summer, I courted Miss Martha Smith. She is the daughter of a simple but wealthy country gentleman and is two and twenty years of age. Miss Smith is well-read, handsome, and well-dowered. I knew once again that I was not the only man pursuing her hand, but she dismissed all others. We got along famously, and I called on her in earnest after knowing her for a month. Mr. Smith was amenable to my efforts and encouraged me to make the entire matter official. I agreed, but yesterday, when, as I have said, I went to her house to speak with her father, their butler informed me that the entire family had left for their estate with no plans to return until next year." Darcy paused, hesitating before he plowed on. "What I have not told you is that my valet poked around a little and discovered that Miss Smith's maid says she is with child."

"Not your child, surely?" Richard said incredulously.

"No, indeed!" Darcy snapped. "I would never."

"The rumors about town say nothing of the sort," Richard mused. "The general word at present is that people believe you must be cursed because any lady in whom you show interest meets some calamity. They say it is because you are already bound to our cousin."

"Anne and I are not engaged," Darcy insisted. "Nor do I have any intention of offering for her! If I find out that these rumors result from Lady Catherine's absurd ramblings, I shall never speak to her again."

"Lady Catherine's hopes and wishes have not been a secret these many years," Richard said knowingly. "Ever since your father passed away, she has spoken openly of the supposed cradle engagement to all her friends."

"Of that, I am well aware. It changes nothing," Darcy said firmly. "I will not marry Anne. She and I will not suit, and I refuse to be pressed into an unwanted union."

"I know that, and you know that," Richard said, "but until you are no longer available for the taking, Aunt Catherine will persist."

Richard regarded him solemnly. "The question you must consider is, where will you go to find a bride? Only the most desperate ladies of the ton and their mamas and papas will try to secure you now, and you will not find a good wife from among them."

"I suppose I shall have to look further abroad," Darcy mused. "A country gentleman's daughter will do nicely."

"You have already tried that," Richard reminded him. "Miss Smith is just such a woman. What if none will have you? I suppose you could search for the wealthy daughter of a tradesman."

"I am not yet so desperate," Darcy snapped. "Are the shades of Pemberley to be so polluted? I may not be able to wed an heiress, but that does not preclude gentry who may not be well-dowered."

"Careful now, Cousin, you begin to sound like Aunt Catherine," Richard cautioned. "May I suggest you collect Georgiana from school and return to Pemberley until after the spring planting? Then you could go to the seashore for a few months. Avoid the season next year, and perhaps the rumors will cool."

"Very well," Darcy agreed. "I shall prepare to travel directly, lest we find ourselves trapped and unable to make it to Pemberley before winter sets in."

"Unfortunately, I shall be out of the country until next summer, or else I should join you. My regiment is to the continent for a few months. We will not be in the path of any fighting, I am told."

"Thank heaven for that," Darcy murmured. "Godspeed, then."

"I thank you," Richard replied. "I shall ask Mother to keep her ears open for any other unsavory rumors while you are gone from town."

"Yes, that would be wise," Darcy agreed.

The two cousins parted ways, and Darcy summoned his valet to begin packing.

~

Going home to Pemberley thrilled Georgiana. On Richard's suggestion, Darcy had finally pulled her from school after her persistent letters expressing her misery had at last swayed him to do so. Secretly, he was glad for her company and did not repine the decision to forgo her formal schooling. He would begin a search for a suitable companion before they departed London, though they would not remain there long enough to fill the position. His aunt, Lady Matlock, would interview the applicants and inform him of her findings.

It took two days to prepare for travel, and then it was the Sabbath, which further delayed their journey. By the time the carriage trundled out of London on Monday morning, Darcy was irate but finally able to breathe.

He had deigned to visit his club Saturday afternoon and had left in embarrassment after several of his acquaintances had moved away as he drew near or blatantly ignored him. Many of them were lower placed in society than he was, adding to the effrontery and insult. Why, even Mr. Arnold Bones, a pockets-to-let friend from university, had dodged him after the man had approached Darcy just a week ago to beg for a loan. Darcy felt dismayed and insulted and hardly knew what actions to take. Instead of confronting those who offended him, he slinked off to a corner with his drink. Richard found him alone at the table and dragged him back to Darcy House.

"Stay out of sight, man," he scolded. "The sooner you are gone, the sooner people will forget the ridiculous rumors."

Darcy complied, and now he and his sister were embarking on their journey to Derbyshire, where they anticipated spending a quiet respite for several months. Their esteemed relatives, Lord and Lady Matlock, known more familiarly to them as Aunt Tilda and Uncle Hugh, planned to join them in January, though the exact date of their arrival remained uncertain.

Georgiana talked incessantly the entire journey, speaking of the many things she wished to do now that she was no longer at school. Darcy listened as attentively as he could, but he found it difficult to relate to the stories his much younger sister told. He had got along well enough with the other gentlemen at school, and never experienced the petty squabbling and teasing of which Georgiana spoke.

After five days of travel, they arrived at their beloved home. Darcy felt an inexplicable peace wash over him, as it always did when he returned to Pemberley. This was where he belonged. This was where everything was as it should be. He would do as Richard said and hide away at his estate for however long it took the rumors to die. Surely, it could not be so long. And then, when the warmer months arrived and the spring planting was over, he would take Georgiana to the coast. Ramsgate… or perhaps Brighton.

~

November 1810

Undisclosed location

It was freezing, and the man stamped his feet impatiently as he waited for his patroness. Why they had to meet in the middle of nowhere when a suitable inn would do just as well was beyond his understanding. But the lady had particular preferences, and if he wanted to keep her favor, he had to abide by those wishes.

The sound of a carriage approaching caused him to turn. A barouche box trundled across the partially frozen ground, its team expertly handled by a skilled driver. It stopped in front of him, and the door swung open.

"Get in," came his patroness's voice.

He entered the barouche, grateful to be out of the wind. The inside of the coach was marginally warmer, and the man blew into his hands to warm them.

"Do not be so vulgar," the lady across from him snapped. She nodded once, and a carriage rug landed in his lap. The man nodded to the chap across from him; he was the man who had first approached him about this employment and seemed to be his patroness's favorite footman.

"I have word that Darcy is to hire a companion for his sister," the lady said. As usual, she wasted no time stating her purpose. "My informant got the information from a kitchen maid at Matlock House. I have arranged for an… acquaintance to apply for the job. She forged her references, of course, but I have hopes that will go unnoticed until we have accomplished our goal."

"What has this to do with me?" He buried his hands in the rug and eyed her curiously. She outlined the scheme, and the man grinned. "It will be as you say," he said.

The lady nodded, and once more, her faithful footman pushed the door open. "Out," he barked.

"Can you not convey me—"

"No," the woman snarled. "You have two legs. Walk."

The man removed the rug from around his legs and placed it on the bench before exiting the barouche without further protest. It would be a long, cold walk back to the inn.

~

Their journey's end was timely, for a thick blanket of snow fell just two days after their arrival at Pemberley. Georgiana was thrilled; the deep snow meant they could pull the sleigh from the carriage house and use it. Buoyed by his sister's enthusiasm, Darcy helped her decorate Pemberley for the festive season, cutting pine boughs for the banisters and mantelpieces and selecting an excellent Yule log for the fireplace. Georgiana helped Mrs. Reynolds put together boxes for the tenants and servants, too.

Christmas passed quietly, much to Darcy's relief. Having experienced far too much excitement in the last several months, he welcomed the change of pace. Georgiana delighted in the new shawl and music sheets he gifted her. Similarly, the handsome ruby cravat pin and the stack of books his sister had selected pleased him greatly. He perused the new volumes idly while Georgiana experimented with the new music.

He ought to get her a new pianoforte, Darcy mused. The one on which she played was adequate, but many years old. He could relegate it to the small music parlor in favor of a newer instrument. A Broadwood Grand would be perfect. She would be fifteen the next summer and was a dedicated student; therefore, she deserved only the best.

Boxing Day passed much the same way, and it was not until three days after Christmas that Darcy realized he had yet to receive an invitation to the Twelfth Night ball his nearest neighbors, the Holcombes, held every year. Believing such a thing to be an oversight, he penned a letter to Mrs. Dorothy Holcombe, expressing his frustration that the post had been so delayed because of the weather and tendering his usual acceptance to the ball. Not a day later, a rider brought word from Mrs. Holcombe, leaving him dismayed. His lack of invitation had not been an oversight after all. Mrs. Holcombe claimed they were required to limit their guest list that year and had removed him from it in favor of a closer acquaintance. Her meaning was clear, and Darcy crumpled the note in anger and cast it into the fire. Resigned to a quiet winter, he could do naught but wait for his aunt and uncle to arrive with news from Town.

Lord and Lady Matlock took advantage of the first break in weather to come north. They planned to break their journey at Pemberley for a few days before proceeding to their estate, where they would remain until it was time to return to London for Parliament. Unfortunately, his Aunt Tilda did not bring any good news.

"The rumors have taken on a life of their own," she told him sadly. "You have heard, of course, that the gossips say you are not just unmarriageable but also cursed. They have said that any woman to whom you grant attention is bound to meet an unsavory fate. And now , they are saying you are a new Henry the Eighth! No one dares to test whether they shall become the next condemned Anne Boleyn or the next favored Catherine Parr."

"That is utterly ridiculous!" Darcy cried in anger. "I have had nothing to do with the current state of each lady in question. All I did was try to court them."

"Yes," his aunt said defensively. "I am only telling you what is being circulated. I do not think you will find any lady amongst the jewels of the ton now."

"Will you not consider Anne and have done with it?" his uncle asked.

"Lady Catherine would be pleased," Aunt Tilda agreed, nodding. "It is an ideal solution to your situation, for you will still have a well-dowered bride of the first circles."

"Absolutely not," Darcy barked. "I have made my position on the matter clear. Does Aunt Catherine know aught of these rumors?" He laughed mirthlessly. "I would imagine she dislikes the idea of having me as a son-in-law now. She would declare me unsuitable for her daughter and the grandeur of Rosings Park."

Uncle Hugh remarked with a hearty laugh, "I think Catherine would overlook a great deal to see Pemberley and Rosings joined."

"She would, it seems, be the only one willing to do so," Darcy snapped. " Is she spreading the rumors, then? Perhaps this is all one big plot to ensure I do her bidding."

"I have already looked into the source of the tales," his uncle protested. "Catherine swears it was not her, and I believe it. Further investigation has traced the stories to three gentlemen. The reports say they are of the same height and build, though with distinct features. A Runner reported one man had red hair and a bulbous nose. Another says he had brown hair and blue eyes. A third claims the man was blond. Brown, one investigator, says he was unable to learn more but speculates that the three men are the same person."

"That would make it a conspiracy," Darcy said in disbelief. "It is rather hard to stomach. What have I done to deserve such machinations being turned against me?"

"The only conclusion on which the Runners have agreed is that it appears someone does not want you to secure a bride in London," Uncle Hugh revealed.

Darcy groaned and took a long drink from his glass. The entire business had gone from bad to worse! What he would give to be done with it all.

"Enough of this talk," his aunt interrupted. "I have found a companion for Georgiana if she meets with your approval. Her name is Mrs. Agatha Younge. She is a respectable widow with excellent references and is a gifted pianist. She will help Georgiana further her skills before we select a master for her."

Finally, some good news . "Did you extend the offer to her?" Darcy asked.

"I did," she replied. "Mrs. Younge is to travel here in late February or early March if the roads are impassable."

"As always, I trust your judgment," Darcy said, bowing his head to his aunt. Lady Matlock smiled in reply.

His aunt and uncle stayed a whole week before departing for their estate. He was glad of the company, so isolated he had been at Pemberley since his and Georgiana's arrival. Invitations had been nonexistent, and even Georgiana had remarked on her brother's unusual amount of time spent at home in the evenings. Darcy felt lighter after they left, though the great mystery of the London rumors occasionally bothered him. He tried to put the entire thing from his mind, believing, as his aunt did, that the longer he was from Town, the quicker the rumors would die. He would wait to hear from her before attempting to return.

~

An unexpected turn in the weather forced Georgiana's new companion to remain in London for longer than desired. Blocked roads throughout January finally cleared in mid-February, allowing Darcy to send his carriage for the lady. Mrs. Younge arrived at Pemberley on the first of March, and she immediately impressed him. She was a young widow who carried herself with quiet confidence. Mrs. Younge formed an instant rapport with Georgiana, which pleased him. A new companion to oversee the rest of his sister's education was just what they both needed, and he was now free to spend more time with his steward, preparing for the spring planting.

The responsibilities of the estate soon consumed him, and Darcy found solace in performing his duties. He and his steward planned and constructed a new bridge, sowed the spring seed and moved his flocks to a new pasture to graze. After a long day's labor, he spent his evenings resting. His sister and her companion kept him company. By the end of March, his list of duties had shortened considerably, and he found himself with more leisure time.

Georgiana, reminding him of his earlier words, began raising the idea of a trip to the sea in April. Darcy agreed to investigate finding a suitable house to let in Ramsgate, and his sister eagerly thanked him. He sent out inquiries immediately, hoping that a dwelling could be procured.

A week or two later, his sister approached him with an added request. "Mrs. Younge says that this journey will be good practice for me," she began hesitantly. "She suggests that, by your leave, I might set up the household and manage things by myself… with her supervision, of course."

Darcy blinked in surprise. "You wish to set up your own household?" Darcy asked, clarifying. Was she not far too young?

"Yes," Georgiana said hurriedly. "We could go together in May, and you could help me for a month. Then, in June, you could make the time to visit your friends for a few weeks, so I might stretch my wings, so to speak. You could go see Mr. Bingley or Lord Rutledge. I know you are close to both."

"You would banish me, hmm?" Darcy teased. He had no heart to tell her that Lord Rutledge would not be an option; the gentleman had returned his last letter unopened.

"Oh, never, Brother!" Georgiana cried in dismay. "It was a poor idea. I am sorry."

Darcy immediately felt guilty for making light of his sister's request and sought to reassure her. "I jest, my dear," he said comfortingly. "I promise I shall give this matter full consideration." And he would. He was not much inclined to agree with her suggestion just yet; she was only fifteen years old, after all! But what harm could it be if she was under the supervision of a trusted companion?

"Thank you!" Georgiana squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

Darcy hugged her back before she hurried from the room. Fifteen years old! His Georgie was growing up too fast.