A Wife for Mr Darcy

When Darcy returned home, it was to an empty house. Richard was dining at his club and would most certainly play cards, and he had given Mercer the evening off. He suspected that his valet was having a romance with a cook in one of the adjacent townhouses. Mercer, a man of forty-seven years, had never married and had once told him that he had a female acquaintance at many of the coaching inns where the post coach made its stops, but rather than limiting himself to any one lady, he had chosen to remain a bachelor. “Share the wealth, sir,” he had said with a smile.

But a letter from Georgiana was waiting for him in which she related her company’s first full day at Pemberley. With Mr. Gardiner fishing and Mrs. Gardiner visiting an old friend in the village, Georgiana had convinced Elizabeth to go riding.

Since it had been such a long time since Lizzy has been on a horse (she much prefers walking) …

Lizzy? Of course, Georgiana would call her Lizzy; they were friends. As far as her preference for walking was concerned, Darcy knew from their time together at Netherfield during her sister’s convalescence that Elizabeth was very fond of walking. He remembered a most pleasant stroll in the park, and by the time they had returned to the house, he was in love with her.

…she felt the need to ride Sugar in the yard. But our dappled gray had her own ideas and went right back into the stables. Lizzy was laughing so hard that she could not get Sugar to respond, and in no time at all, they were back at Sugar’s stall. You should have seen the look on Belling’s face, and then, without any irony, he said, “Are you done for the day, Miss?” and we could hardly contain ourselves. It had taken Belling longer to saddle Sugar than Lizzy had been on her.

After tucking the note into his pocket, Darcy had been on the point of retiring when Richard came home. “Tonight was not my night for cards. I am a poor man, and so I know when to leave the tables, especially when I am losing to my brother.” After pouring himself a brandy and another for his cousin, Richard asked Darcy how his visit with Miss Montford had gone.

After Darcy explained the interesting turn of events, Richard said, “Darcy, you are a lucky devil. Miss Montford actually gave you her permission to go to Pemberley.”

“I can’t go to Pemberley, but if I am supposed to be in Derbyshire, then I can’t stay in town either. I shall write to Anne to tell her that I wish to visit. There is no hardship there, except, of course, listening to Aunt Catherine’s complaints.”

“Darcy, what are you talking about? You must go to Pemberley.”

“Out of the question,” he said, shaking his head. “I will not even consider it, and if you want to know why, I shall tell you. After our discussion the other night in which we decided that Miss Elizabeth had not been injured, I came to a different conclusion. She may not have had expectations of a marriage proposal, but flirtations are hopeful things, full of promise, and I cannot believe that at some time in all those weeks that she had not looked for a different outcome.”

“If that is what you truly believe, then you really must go to Pemberley. If her hopes have truly been elevated, then they should be brought down in increments, not in one deafening crash when you attend the wedding of her sister to Charles Bingley with your betrothed. My suggestion would be for you to go to Derbyshire and let her know that you wish to remain friends.”

Darcy sat back in his chair and looked at the brandy-filled glass as the candlelight passed through it, the crystal providing clarity as to the wine’s color and texture and to his thoughts as well.

“I have no one to blame for the situation I find myself in but me. I had this list in my head of what was required of a prospective bride for Fitzwilliam Darcy, and with Miss Montford, I was able to check off many of the items on the list: attractive, accomplished, good dancer, pleasant personality, an agreeable companion for Georgiana, granddaughter of an earl, and someone who moved in the highest tiers of London society. Through a process of elimination, I decided that she was the one I would marry, so that I might have a son and heir.

“Richard, if it were not so damn depressing I could almost laugh. Logical, careful, and methodical Fitzwilliam Darcy, who does everything by the numbers so that nothing is overlooked and plans are made for every contingency, messed up badly. The one thing I failed to factor in to all this courtship business was that I would fall in love with someone else.”

Chapter 23

As soon as Mr. Darcy departed, Miss Montford went to the window to make sure that he was truly gone. When she saw him wave off the hackney, she was afraid he might return. But with her nose pressed to the pane, she watched as he continued walking in the direction of his house, and she let out a sigh of relief. With tears in her eyes, she went to the small sitting room adjacent to the parlor where Mrs. Redford, her companion and chaperone, sat during her visits with Mr. Darcy. This was not a secret because the rocking of Mrs. Redford’s chair and the clicking of her knitting needles provided a rhythmic background to all their conversations.

Mrs. Redford, who had taken the place of Letitia’s mother when Lady Margaret had died when the child was eight, came over and gave her a hug, and she clung to her companion in absolute misery. Letitia took out an embroidered handkerchief from a drawer stuffed full of them.

“It had such a promising beginning, but now…” After dabbing everything that was wet, she explained what had gone wrong. “When Papa introduced me to Mr. Darcy, I could hardly believe he was interested in me at all, but I was flattered by his attention. At first, we talked about all those things that one is supposed to talk about in a ballroom: dancing, the number of couples, the weather, plays at Haymarket, and the opera. But then things started to change. I noticed he became impatient when I talked about the weather. Then at the public ball at Merritt’s, he introduced me to Charles Bingley, and Mr. Bingley asked me to dance. What could I say? He is a friend of Mr. Darcy’s, and although he is most agreeable company, he is not a gentleman. And then he asked if I knew Mr. Bingley’s sisters. How would I know them? We have no friends in common.

“Tonight was the worst of all. He spoke of subjects that are of no interest to me. I do not care where my tea comes from. I know little of the exploits of the explorers, and Papa absolutely forbids any discussion about America because they overthrew their lawful king. Yet Mr. Darcy admires them, and I know that Papa would find that most objectionable. And he has befriended a coffee broker person, and this man, Mr. Gardiner, and his wife are now at Pemberley with their niece, who is sister to Mr. Bingley’s betrothed. He is forming a circle of friends with people not of my station. Am I to be expected to entertain them in our home? To visit them at their estates and in their homes?

“But the very worst was when he said he had always encouraged his sister to be independent and told me that she has gone to Pemberley with people new to her acquaintance and without a male relation. Will Mr. Darcy expect me to be independent? Will he put me in a carriage and send me off on my own?

“Mr. Jasper Wiggins is not like him at all,” Letitia continued to complain through her sniffles. “He loves talking about the weather and is excellent at guessing the number of couples in a ballroom. Mr. Wiggins was acceptable to Papa as a suitable marriage partner for me because he comes from a prominent banking family, and his father is to be knighted. But once Mr. Darcy came to the house, Mr. Wiggins was pushed aside, and now Papa will make me marry Mr. Darcy.” She then burst into tears. “And he is such a big man.”

Mrs. Redford continued to listen to Letitia’s complaints through bouts of sobbing, but she had already heard enough. The facts of the matter were that Mr. Darcy did not love Letitia, and Letitia was a nervous wreck around Mr. Darcy. It was obvious to Mrs. Redford that both individuals wanted to get out of the relationship. The obstacle was Sir John, who was determined to have Mr. Darcy as a son-in-law, and she knew why. If Letitia were to marry into one of the oldest families in the realm that would be a real feather in Sir John’s cap. Connections—this was all about connections.

Sir John, who had spent most of the last two months in the country shooting, believed that all was well in London. He had no idea how distressed his youngest daughter was. But Mrs. Redford understood her employer and