The Heir and Spare (Jane Austen Adaptations)

6. Arthur Darcy

Chapter 6

Arthur Darcy

A rthur didn’t know what to do with the skittish Miss Elizabeth. One minute he had barely warmed up her hesitancy and then the next without warning she was back to the cold bristly suspicious version he’d first met. Perhaps there was not more to her to know. Perhaps she was merely dealing with too much to accept kindness and caring into her life? He determined to be as gentle with her as possible but to look elsewhere for relationships at the party. Perhaps there was yet one who would be the warm-hearted woman he desired to have at his side. This house party was certainly not his last hope, but it would be helpful to find such a woman now and grow in their relationship over the course of the season as opposed to attempting yet again to find her in London amidst all the posturing and falsity that existed there.

They had retired for the evening in preparation for dinner at which Lord Shackley expected the rest of the guests. Darcy’s valet had already helped him dress, brushed down his dinner coat and spent an overly large amount of time to fix his hair to perfection, much to his consternation. Darcy stepped outside his bedroom to see Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary exiting theirs as well, though at the opposite end of the hall.

They looked lovely. There was something extra rosy about Miss Mary. He smiled to himself. Perhaps there was already an interest for her? He hoped so. She seemed rather lovely, if awkward and perhaps unsure. And she seemed to deserve good things. Though he wasn’t certain Lord Perceval provided. He frowned.

And then Miss Elizabeth gasped and turned from him.

He’d been looking in their direction still with the frown on his face. He quickly replaced it with a more placid and engaging expression, but it was too late. Miss Elizabeth whispered to Miss Mary, and they both hurried off toward the stairs at the other end of the hall. So much reaction from a frown on his face. Though he supposed it wasn’t pleasant to feel as though a man was frowning at you. She’d frowned at him on several occasions.

He arrived down in the sitting room outside the dining room to gather for dinner. Many more of the guests had also arrived and he had a moment of his earlier boyhood nerves. His chest tightened and the air around him became more difficult to breathe.

Miss Elizabeth shared a glance with him, a flash of concern perhaps for him gave him a dose of courage. But she looked away as quickly and he wondered if he’d imagined her sudden empathy. How could she even know how he felt from so far away?

The footman announced, “Mr. Arthur Darcy of Pemberley.”

The room grew quiet and as he always dreaded, many eyes turned to him. But the women did not have the typical mercenary gleam. Perhaps they were outside of the London crowd enough to have not heard of Pemberley?

One woman stepped up immediately. Their host stood at her side though he seemed somewhat reluctant. Darcy found that amusing. “Lord Shackley. You have what promises to be a diverting house party.”

“Thank you. Yes, it all begins, doesn’t it?”

The woman at his right cleared her throat.

“Might I present Miss Lilly? She hails from a small borough almost to Brighton.”

She curtseyed deep and low and fluttered her eyelashes.

He did not see the appeal of the eyelash fluttering. But he knew it to be a sign that she was interested enough to attract his attention. So he reached for her hand and bowed over it. “And I’m Mr. Darcy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Her other hand immediately went to fluttering about at her chest, another thing women often did. And what did that fluttering mean? Was she nervous? Scared? Happy?

Her giggles seemed to indicate happiness.

But the fluttering. Her expression looked more ill at ease than anything.

“The pleasure is mine, certainly. To think I’d meet someone from Derbyshire. I never thought to ever even leave our small situation, perhaps a season in Brighton, maybe Bath, but never… She put a hand on her mouth. “I talk too much. I already know I do. I shall attempt to pretend that this is all normal for me, that I see great lords of grand estates every day.” She swallowed, though it seemed difficult. “Forgive me.” Her face burned a beet-red and sweat formed on her brow.

He reached for his handkerchief. “Be at ease, Miss Lilly. We seem a friendly enough group. Lord Shackley would not have the other sorts in his home, I’d imagine.”

She nodded. “Thank you.” She dabbed her face with his handkerchief and was about to hand it back but Lord Shackley cleared his throat and when she caught his gaze, he shook his head.

So she tucked it in a small reticule she had hanging at her wrist. “I just don’t know how I’ll remember to stop talking. I get started when I’m nervous. And Mama always says the other people need a chance. And she also says that a man doesn’t really want to hear all the things in my head. He only wants to know a few. He mostly wants to tell me what’s in his head. And…” She sighed. “And there I go again.”

Darcy became a bit more charmed. Here was an innocent creature. He’d thought her mercenary but truly she didn’t have any experience at all in Society, that he could see. “Perhaps you should just be yourself. Mamas mean well, but sometimes they might make things more difficult than they need to be.”

She nodded and seemed to bite back whatever might be itching to come pouring forth. He laughed to himself. “Shall we meet some others?” He indicated that Lord Shackley should lead the way, and he held his arm for Miss Lilly to take. She sucked in her breath and fluttered a bit more but to her credit, said nothing. Her nod was almost regal as she placed her hand on his arm. Her innocence was refreshing after the expert manipulations of many of the women he came in contact with.

They turned to a man at Darcy’s left. “This is Lord Devering; comes from an estate in the far north of England, if you can believe it. We are fortunate he would travel so far.”

He nodded.

“This is Mr. Darcy and Miss Lilly.”

Darcy held out his hand. The man shook it briefly, his face hardly evoking more than a slight tremor in his lips that might have become a smile if he were to nurture the motion a bit more.

Miss Lilly giggled again. “A lord. Goodness.” Her mumbling was perhaps not heard by the noble in question but Mr. Darcy’s eyes lit with amusement.

To his credit, Lord Devering did kiss the proffered hand and bowed smartly.

Miss Lilly and Lord Devering commenced some form of conversation. Miss Elizabeth was surrounded. Joint laughter sounded and her face beamed.

He was enchanted yet again. If only to have such happiness directed at him. What would it take to win over her appreciation? Was it worth the effort? What if she were the type of woman to be pleasant when necessary but behind the closed doors of any home, she would be tiresome at best. She just didn’t seem like the type to play harpy at home. Not with such expressive eyes, not with such a ready laugh. Nothing about her was forced. He could appreciate her sincerity, certainly, even if it meant seeing a less pleasant side to herself.

He shook himself back to Miss Lilly’s nervous laugh. He could not be talking himself into pursuing a woman who was obviously not interested and was perhaps not even a nice person.

Miss Lilly was looking at him with wide expectant eyes.

“I apologize. A bit of woolgathering as I consider this very intriguing group.”

“Lord Devering was asking me about London.”

“Ah, I have been often. What would you like to know?”

Miss Elizabeth’s gaze from across the room fell on him. He felt it as a pleasant tingling sensation travelled to his chest. He caught her gaze and held it a moment. She had no less than three men vying for her attention, one actively telling her something. But the room quieted, and he suddenly wished more than anything to simply be at her side, that they could have a quiet corner and that the others would be less interested in her and more in each other.

He reluctantly dragged his attention back to his two companions. “I find London to be most enjoyable in the smaller seasons. I try to avoid the peak of the main season myself. But I can see how it might be preferable to others.”

Lord Devering nodded. “I, of course, must travel to London for the peak of the Season as Parliament is in session.”

Darcy smiled. “Too true. Excellent reminder. The very reason for the Season technically, is it not? All the families coming in with the lords to participate in Parliament?”

“I once heard of a miss in a neighboring town who went for the London Season. She had a sponsor in an aunt, and she was married that very season. To a lord.” Her eyes were wide in wonder at the notion, and then she swallowed as her face turned pink. “And you’re a lord as well. I must seem such a bumpkin to you both.”

Lord Devering then did a surprising thing. His eyes turned tender and he placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “I find you to be quite pleasant, refreshing.”

Darcy’s eyes widened but he nodded in approval. Excellent.

Lord Shackley, who had moved slightly to his left to participate in another conversation winked at him.

And that left Darcy to himself for a moment. He gravitated to the table with lemonade—which happened to be closer to Miss Elizabeth.

She cleared her throat as though it might be dry? He hoped. He hurried to the table, snatched up two lemonades and then approached her side.

None of the other men had noticed or thought to offer a beverage yet. Their loss. She stepped to the side to make space for him as if she knew he was coming. Gratified, he held out the cup. “I thought you might like a lemonade, Miss Elizabeth.”

Her smile brightened her face and was for once directed fully and solely at him. “I do indeed feel parched. Thank you.” She sipped the drink. “Much better.”

He did not quite preen, but he felt the victory of such a gallant delivery inside his chest from his head down to his toes.

Miss Elizabeth did the honors, and he was soon introduced to two new lords and a gentleman, all from Kensington area near his aunt’s estate, Rosings. But everything they said faded in his mind as soon as Miss Elizabeth moved closer to him. She did not quite place a hand on his arm, but she did turn to him as though they were together.

Interesting.

One of the men laughed overly loud. Was he talking of hunting?

Miss Elizabeth’s attention had drifted, and though he too wished to know more of the grouse available on Lord Shackley’s estate, he could see it was not a topic of interest to the ladies present. He held out his arm. “Might I beg a bit of your time with a turn about the room?”

Her grateful expression was reward enough. He decided that not only did he wish to see her smiling eyes but also the appreciative gleam again directed at him. This congenial side to Miss Elizabeth was almost enough for him to forget the disturbing and unhappy version that sometimes showed itself.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she squeezed his arm with her fingers. “Thank you. I did not know how to extricate myself. I think after many minutes of such discussion I had nothing more to add.” She shook her head. “And they were talking of me accompanying to hold their kills.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know much about the ladies of the Ton , but do they really enjoy such an activity? And would they wish to accompany a man to watch him shoot birds and then hold them for him?”

Darcy snorted. “I could never imagine you doing such a thing. Why worry about what other women do?”

“I do not often concern myself but now I am curious.”

He thought for a moment. “I daresay there would be some who would do just about anything if they thought it would win them a man.” He chose his words carefully. “But at what cost?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, why attempt to win someone with false pretenses? Is not the goal to find compatibility? Would she then keep up her ruse for the rest of her life? Hardly not.”

Miss Elizabeth’s smile grew into a knowing grin. “I sense a sore subject.”

He had to laugh to himself. “Yes. I do admit to a fear of marrying a complete stranger only to discover she is not the woman I at least hoped she might be.”

“How can one truly come to know another, though? There will be some elements of surprise in a marriage, I would presume.”

“Certainly. But it is my hope they will only be the good kinds of surprises.”

She tapped her lips with one finger and Darcy could not help but study her mouth. It was full and pink and soft. His own went dry. What would it be like to kiss such a mouth? To kiss such a woman? He almost laughed out loud. She’d never allow it. He’d seen the side to her that might push him away if he dared to try.

“Are you listening to me?” She frowned.

“I am… I was. But I was distracted. Please repeat just the last bit?” He widened his eyes with his most innocent-looking smile.

“Oh, fine. Are you with me this time?”

“Yes, riveted.”

She toyed with one of her ringlets and then began again. The curl tickled her face in just the right way and bounced back when she released it.

But he focused on her words.

“What I am trying to say is important. There will of course be unpleasant surprises. But they might seem less so if you really love your wife?” Then she colored prettily. “With you looking at me so intently I realize suddenly that our conversation is of a more intimate nature.”

“I quite enjoy it and you. If people are not willing to broach such topics, how can we ever truly come to know another?”

“I suppose it is exactly what you are trying to say, isn’t it? That we should connect better?”

“Yes, precisely. Now tell me what sorts of surprises would be palatable and which ones would not be pleasant no matter how much you know a person?”

Her lips pursed and he tried not to notice but they made a delicious-looking little pout that he found hard to resist in his thoughts.

“I think I should not abide a man who sleeps in nor one who slurps his tea.”

He nearly choked on his surprise. “Pardon me? Slurps?”

“Yes, surely no one slurps in polite company, but does he slurp when he thinks he’s alone? Would he slurp when we are so comfortable with one another that we relax into personal habits?”

He considered her a moment. And then he laughed. “And slurping? That’s the thing? That’s the personal habit you might not be able to abide?”

Her mouth twitched. “Well, and other things men might do of which I am unaware. But yes. And sleeps in, don’t forget.”

“Not even on a lazy Sunday?”

“I suppose after a ball, one might sleep the day away. But on most days, I should most enjoy a person who wishes to be outside with me, exploring or walking or riding or…I don’t know; when the sun is up I feel this call to welcome it, to feel it.” Her speech picked up and her words started racing out of her. “And even the rain. To feel it on my face is delicious. How could a bed hold a person when such a glorious earth is available just outside the door?” Her eyes shone with passion.

“I don’t know. You are absolutely correct and I shall never waste my opportunities in something so paltry as my bed ever again.”

She nodded. “Just so.” Then she turned to him. “I know we are partly in jest, but a serious answer to your question would simply be to run from unkindness. If you are both attempting to be good to the other, if your inner soul is kind, then I think you can make any relationship work.”

He was quiet, considering the profundity of her words, perhaps for too long because she began to fidget and then said, “But I can’t believe all that I just said in a few breaths only. You must have hit upon an important topic to me.” She didn’t meet his eyes. “Perhaps you could share your thoughts now as well? What might be an unhappy surprise for you?”

“I think you have expressed exactly my feelings. Find a person who is inherently kind and is willing to try.” He rested a hand over the top of hers. He’d never had such a conversation with a woman at a social event before. He felt changed for the better. And a new desire to ensure his own kindness grew in him.

“And how do you feel about pride, Mr. Darcy?” Her expression turned calculating. “And about dancing at small assemblies? Do you feel any woman might be beneath you?”

Something about her expression very obviously had drifted from the teasing congenial tone to one of almost accusation. He felt suddenly very much like he was being trapped. By what, he could not fathom.

“I—”

Lord Shackley’s footman opened the doors to the dining room just then, and he began calling them in to dinner.

“Would you join me?” He smiled down at a once again distant-looking Miss Elizabeth but she nodded. “I would be honored.”