Mary Simonsen - A Wife for Mr Darcy

“I don’t know what else I can do. If I am supposed to be in Derbyshire, I cannot be seen anywhere in town. I am beginning to feel like an adolescent incapable of managing his own affairs.” After several minutes of thought, Darcy agreed. “You have convinced me. I shall tell Mercer to make preparations for us to go to Pemberley.”

Mercer stepped into the room from his listening post in the hall. “I assume that we are to leave first thing in the morning, sir. May I suggest that we travel lightly? I will arrange for a wagon to come to Pemberley the next day, carrying your trunks as well as the colonel’s. In that way, we will make excellent time because we will have a lighter load.”

“Mercer, tell me the truth. Had you already started packing?” There was something going on here, but he had not figured it out yet.

“Sir, part of being a good valet is anticipating the master’s wishes, so I have packed some things, but not all, and there is much to be done.”

“Well, it seems the Fates, being helped by others, I suspect, have conspired to have me in Derbyshire, and I will not defy them.” But what would he do once he got there?

When Colonel Fitzwilliam emerged from the Darcy townhouse, he was expecting to get into the Darcy carriage. Instead, the Gardiner carriage awaited. Richard, who lived the life of a soldier, had no problem with the simpler conveyance. But it would be a good deal noisier than Will’s well-sprung, thickly padded carriage, and he wished to speak to his cousin about Miss Montford. With Mercer present, he was unsure of how much he should say. It quickly became a moot point because, despite the noise and bumps, Mercer went to sleep almost immediately.

“Do not worry about him,” Darcy told his cousin. “There are only two things that will wake him up. One is if you say his name, and the other is if the carriage makes any noise that in his many years of experience in driving a coach sounds wrong to him. He will sit straight up as if a cannon has gone off. It is amazing, but he is able to filter out all other sounds.”

“Like a man who cannot hear a baby crying.”

“Exactly. I will provide a demonstration of how quickly he reacts when we get near to the inn. In any event, you may speak freely whether he is awake or not. But if you want to talk to me about Miss Montford, I must tell you I have grown weary of the subject. There is nothing more to be said.”

“Will, I must speak, as I believe your happiness depends upon it, so let us look at the facts. You have paid Miss Montford only enough notice so that people suspect you are about to embark on a courtship. But even the limited amount of time you have spent in the lady’s company is too much for her, which is why she has encouraged you to go to Pemberley.”

“Are you saying she does not want me to court her?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying. I think you quite overwhelm her. You two are so different. I wonder what you talk about when you are together.”

“She likes to speak of the weather and ladies’ apparel, and the opera, but after a half hour, there is nothing more to be said. The last time I called on her, I thought I should turn the conversation in a different direction. Make it a little more interesting. I had just spoken with Mr. Gardiner, Elizabeth’s uncle, about how remarkable it is that our tea and coffee come from such distances.”

“Did she swoon?” Richard asked, and Darcy rolled his eyes. “You spoke of tea and coffee. That is not exactly the language of love.”

“I know what the language of love is, and it is nauseating. And that was not the only thing discussed. I also admired her hair and her handiwork that is prominently displayed throughout the house. You cannot look anywhere in the drawing room without having some accomplishment in view. It is like visiting a gallery. But her favorite topic is the weather. On each visit, she has commented on the chilly, foggy mornings, which are followed by afternoons with either sunny, partly cloudy, or cloudy skies with a possibility of rain—or not—followed by cooler temperatures and darkness. This is typical weather for London in late November and has been since this town was known as Londonium under the Romans.”

“Those are things she has been taught to do and say. The more accomplishments a lady has, the more likely she will marry well, and being so new to society, what do you think she is going to talk about? The debates in Parliament? You are used to discussing such things with Mrs. Conway in her salon.”

Darcy did not respond to Richard’s comment about Mrs. Conway, his friend as well as his lover. Once he had decided to court Miss Montford, he had to stop visiting her as it would have been inappropriate, but the result was that he was starved for intelligent conversation, as well as other things.

“You speak of accomplished ladies,” Darcy said. “Recently, I have changed my opinion as to what constitutes an accomplished woman. If Miss Montford played only the pianoforte, I would consider her to be accomplished because she plays brilliantly. She need not do anything else, except one thing. She must read books and newspapers. She must know what is going on in the world in which she lives. I spoke to her of the power of ideas. I gave as an example America and their remarkable experiment with a government with no monarch at its head, but she showed no interest.”

“You spoke to the daughter of a Tory politician about America, a country who overthrew its king. Will, for God’s sakes, that is something to debate at your club, but it is not something you discuss while courting, which makes my point. The two of you do not belong together. I suspect she wishes to see the back of you, as much as you wish to end it with her, but she cannot because of her father.”

“I have noticed a change,” Darcy said, nodding his head in agreement. “As soon as I deviated from the pedestrian, she looked almost alarmed.”

“All right then. We are making progress. Now, I am going to tell you something that you must keep to yourself,” Richard said as he lowered his voice. This was something that even the trusted Mercer should not hear. “The king intends to award four baronies in order to fill the House of Lords with Tories who will maintain his policies long after he is gone. He suspects that the Whigs will continue to push for Catholic emancipation and the expansion of the franchise to vote.”

“And we shall. It is a matter of fairness.”

“I have no argument with that, but our king and Sir John do, which is why he will be one of the four barons.”

“How do you know this?”

“Antony told me. Say what you will about my brother, but he knows what is going on in Parliament. So I took the liberty of sharing something with my brother without asking your permission.”

“This better be about politics and not romance,” Darcy said, and his green eyes bored into his cousin, “because anything you share with your brother has an excellent chance of ending up in The Insider,” a scandal magazine, which he despised, especially since it had exposed his relationship with Mrs. Conway. “If this has anything to do with my courtship of Miss Montford, you have done me no favor.”

“That is not it at all. Antony told me that Sir John is boasting to everyone at White’s that England will have one less

Whig to make mischief once a certain event occurs.”

“To hell he will. I am no Tory.”

“Exactly. So I told Antony you were saying the same thing about Sir John; that is, you hoped to turn him into a Whig. Of course, I told him not to say anything to ensure that he did. My brother can be very helpful in that way.”

“If we succeed in putting an end to this farce,” Darcy said, “I would like it to appear as if Miss Montford and her father have called an end to it. Except for impropriety, they can say what they will about me. But this will take time to play out, and there is no guarantee of success. Because of that, I must adhere to my original plan. I shall say that my purpose in going to Pemberley is to shoot, and we shall see how much damage Antony can do in London.”

“It has to succeed, Will. We are talking about the happiness of four people.”

“Four? Does that include Sir John?”

“No, it includes Jasper Wiggins. Wiggins was paying a fair amount of attention to Miss Montford, but withdrew from the field once it appeared as if you were going to court her. I have made discreet inquiries, and I have learned he is still very interested in the lady, but cannot act because of you.”

Darcy smiled. For the first time in weeks, he had hope, and knowing that they were drawing close to their destination, he turned to his manservant. “Mercer, we are nearing the inn.”

Mercer sat up as erect as any soldier on review. “Sir? Other than the usual arrangements, is there anything you require?”

“Thank you, Mercer, but no,” and Darcy laughed to himself, something he had not done in ages, or at least since the last time he had seen Elizabeth.

Lizzy thought she had been as quiet as a church mouse in performing her morning toilette, but within minutes of her rising, the maid appeared to assist in dressing her. At Longbourn, although Mr. and Mrs. Hill were servants, they were so entwined with the Bennets that each thought of the other as family. During their childhood, Mrs. Bennet had instructed her girls that the servants were there “to help” not “to do,” but it was the opposite at Pemberley.

Lizzy had met Ellie the night before when the maid had come to help her prepare for bed. It was all Lizzy could do to not giggle, but amusement turned to appreciation when Ellie brushed her hair and told her that she would certainly be able to tame any wayward curls.