In Want of a Wife

By S. Faith, © 2011

Words: 82,705 (in 14 chapters + Epilogue) / This part: 5,017
Rating: T / PG-13 (some chapters a stronger T than others)
Summary, Disclaimer, Notes, Style Note, etc.: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 7: In which details unfold and certain virtues revealed.


Tuesday, 14 June
Late afternoon

"Eloped?"

The reaction after she gave them details on what had been planned while the hunt was on—both those Darcy knew and those he did not, such as the fact that Cleaver had been staying in a nearby inn awaiting word for the best time to flee; what a gift the special circumstances hunt must have seemed to him!—was about what Darcy had expected from mother and father alike. Jamie simply sat in stupefied silence.

"Obviously we did not elope," she said, a slight tremor in her voice.

"Do not be flippant with me, young lady," her father said hotly, rising to his feet. "That you planned to run off against my wishes! Oh, you disappoint and wound your father so."

She looked like she might erupt into tears.

"It was I who came upon the landau," cut in Darcy, "and I who overheard her express doubts in going through with it."

"You, sir, who must think nothing of her for this," he said. At this she did begin to cry.

"Not so; rather the opposite," he said calmly. "I overheard that she wished for her betrothed to gain your approval rather than proceed with these ill-conceived plans. It was he who applied physical force to her to try to get her into the landau. Had I not been there I believe she would have been taken off very much against her will."

"And for that we are deeply grateful, sir," said Mrs Jones with tears in her eyes. "Bridget, what on earth were you thinking?"

"I was stupid, and I am sorrier than I can say," she said, weeping in earnest, her face in her hands. "I have learnt my lesson but well."

"I suppose you need not have told us at all," came her brother's voice as he looked to his sister. "You might have never said a thing and you and Darcy here would have been the only ones to know."

"She insisted upon being honest about it," Darcy said. "And I could only hope to offer my support to the facts as they transpired."

"Is it really over with this fellow?" her father asked sceptically. "Will we need to stand guard once we return home?"

"Only if you wish revenge yourself on him as any father would want to," said Miss Jones. "He is nothing at all to me now, and I do not wish to see him ever again."

Mr Jones looked thoughtful as he gazed upon his daughter's tear-stained cheeks. After a few moments he sighed and said, "I do believe you are contrite and regretful, and that you shall not think to try such a thing again."

"No sir, you can be sure I will not."

"All the same, you shall return to your room for the remainder of the evening, and take your meal alone to reflect on the events of today."

"Father!" she said. "I said that I was sorry, and as Jamie pointed out—"

"It was the right thing to do to tell us, but you must still pay the consequences for your poor choices, Bridget. A night deprived of social interaction is the least of your worries, and had I found out later, things would have been much worse for you, so do not regret your honesty." He offered a small smile; it told Darcy no long lasting damage was done between father and daughter. "Come, upstairs with you. Pamela, my dear, take her to her room."

"I will go," she said, "if I may have a brief moment with Lord Darcy first."

This request took him aback, and as she stood he did as well. He indicated they stand off to the side for a modest amount of privacy.

"Sir, I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done today," she said. "Because I think of your mother as a second mother to me, and of you and your good brother almost as my own, you should not feel restrained; please share what transpired, particularly as my dear godmother should know I have been cured of my folly."

This mention of Lady Darcy's awareness of the situation surprised him as much as the freedom he had to speak of what might have been viewed by those outside the situation as near-scandal. "I will do so, if you wish."

"I do," she said. "I do not want to keep secrets from her. She means too much to me." She glanced to the side. "Well. Off to my punishment before my mother starts haranguing me."

"Tomorrow is another day," he said. "I hope to see you then."

Shortly after departing with her mother, the men left the library as well, intent for the drawing room as a prelude for dinner; as they did, each of the Jones men shook his hand with enthusiasm. "I thank you, Lord Darcy, for what you did today," said Mr Jones as they shook. "If I sounded like I did not appreciate it, I apologise."

"No need for apologies," Darcy replied. "Any man with a shred of scruples would have done the same."

"In this case it was you," he said, "and it was my daughter you saved. I am profoundly grateful beyond my ability to express it."

When they arrived to the drawing room before dinner, he felt as if all eyes were upon him, at least those of his mother and brother. "Where is Miss Jones?" asked Peter upon their close approach.

Darcy indicated without words they should all step to the side and away from the others for a measure of privacy. Once he assured no one was within earshot, Darcy replied in terms he thought his naval-minded brother would appreciate. "Confined to quarters."

"What for, precisely?" Peter said. "Giving shelter to the enemy, protecting the furry red demons during the hunt?" When Darcy did not respond right away, he added, "I sense levity was not appropriate, and I apologise."

"What is it, Mark?" asked his mother. "Your expression is grave."

He was not sure how to word it in such a way that did not paint Miss Jones in a bad light. "If not for my intervention, Miss Jones might well be on her way to Scotland, willingly or not."

The normally quick wit of his brother seemed to have abandoned him; his mother gasped. "Do I take your meaning correctly?"

Darcy nodded curtly in the affirmative. "It had been arranged prior to today, but she had come to have second thoughts because she did not want to hurt her family. The man did not want to accept this and nearly pulled her by force into the waiting coach."

"Goodness," said Lady Darcy, taking care to keep her voice quiet. "I knew Mr Cleaver had been courting her fiercely, and the poor girl had taken it very hard when her father refused consent for their wedding… but this! This must have been a temporary lapse on her part; she is a fine young lady and Mr Cleaver must have coerced into making the plans in the first place. I was always of the opinion that it was unwise of Mr Jones to keep her from society…"

"You knew about all of this?" Darcy asked, astonished that she knew even the detail of the refused offer.

"Mrs Jones confides in me," said his mother, "as does Bridget herself."

"Why did you say nothing to me of Cleaver?"

Lady Darcy smiled a small smile. "I could not hope for you to show interest in her if you thought she was spoken for."

Darcy pursed his lips. "She is indeed regretful now that she sees what a heinous mistake she was about to make," said Darcy, "but she made the plans freely, if under false pretences."

"Wait," said Peter at last. "Mr Cleaver? The same from your days at university?"

"The same one."

"But he was—"

"And still is," Darcy interrupted, anticipating his description. "I suppose Jones either did not realise I knew Cleaver too, or chose not to reveal that to me for whatever reason."

"So, Bridget…" said Lady Darcy. "She is truly… unscathed?"

He knew about what she was concerned. "She is fine," he said. "Otherwise it is probable this scheme never would have come to be. I believed his intention to marry her had a single purpose only." He had no intention of spelling it out for the two of them; thankfully they seemed to understand well enough.

Lady Darcy said, "I hope that you do not think less of Miss Jones for this."

"I do not," said Peter, "and if I could arrange it, I would subject him to public flogging. With plenty of women willing to throw themselves away on a man like Cleaver, he hardly needed to try to hurt a sweet girl like Miss Jones."

That was part of the challenge, Darcy thought, though in an effort to disregard his brother's impropriety he said only, "Miss Jones merely believed him when he said he had changed. For this I do not blame her, because he never will."

After this pronouncement the three of them spoke little; then dinner was served, and they spoke even less.

Shortly after dinner, as he was contemplating (over port and cheroots) preparing the letter he had written for the post, Darcy received an urgent post of his own requesting his immediate return to Grafton Underwood for business in his role as magistrate. This inexorably (and unfortunately) brought to mind his own brother's comment about punishment for Cleaver. His mother and brother had not planned to leave for another day, so he arranged with Jamie to ride his horse back immediately after breakfast, and Jamie could accompany his mother and brother in the carriage.

"Please be sure to deliver my regrets to your sister," Darcy said to Jamie. "I expect I will see her once you all return to Grafton Underwood."

"I would be happy to oblige," he said.

Instead of contemplating a letter he needed no longer to deliver, he now thought of Miss Jones' words just prior to their parting. He wondered if he was reading too much into her reference to himself and Peter as if they were like her own kin, but then thought he should not invent problems when there might be none.

Wednesday, 15 June

Darcy observed as he partook of breakfast the next morning that the sky was overcast, and he hoped this meant it would not rain; regardless of the weather he would need to make the ride. It was his good fortune that the clouds merely provided cover against the blazing summer sun that might have ordinarily beleaguered him, and he made it back to Grafton Manor in excellent time, stopping once for a meal at the approximate midpoint in the town of Thorney.

Upon his arrival he was met by the steward and briefly apprised of the situation that required his attention: a property line dispute between two neighbours. He decided he would make the ride after he had had his dinner—abominably early, in his opinion—and get the business taken care of before sundown, which, being near midsummer, would be hours off yet.

Darcy did not think of himself as a physically intimidating man, but he had height over both property owners, which he thought probably helped the dispute to be easily settled when Darcy firmly pointed out the logic of the complainant's argument. This got Darcy home very quickly, which was unfortunate as the house seemed all too quiet and lonely after a week surrounded by others. He read a little, reviewed some correspondence that had arrived in his absence, and went to bed early in anticipation of accompanying the steward on a working tour of the estate. His venerable father had instilled in him that there was no such thing as being too familiar with one's land and the people on and near it.

Within hours of waking he almost felt as if he had never been away, both in the best possible way and the worst; it inspired him such that ideas were ricocheting lightning-fast around in his head and the urge was very strong to begin some of the projects he and the steward discussed during the course of their tour, but he also felt a loss, a sense that King's Lynn was like a dream that had faded upon waking, that it had not been real at all.

Stop such foolish notions, he thought as he brought the horse to stable, squinting in the early afternoon sun. Instead he bade the steward good day and went directly to the house, hat under his arm, intending on refreshing himself with a bit of food and making himself presentable after the day out of doors, as he knew his mother and brother were due to arrive some time that afternoon and he wanted to be ready to receive them.

He had not at all counted on his mother's desire to be home. Sitting there on the drive, clearly newly arrived, was the coach, still in the process of being unloaded. Tentatively he went in and saw not only Lady Darcy, Peter, but—

"Miss Jones," he said, feeling quite taken aback, willing his cheeks not to stain with embarrassment. She was in the act of untying her pale blue bonnet ribbon when he addressed her, and with a smile she removed it from her head.

"Lord Darcy," she said with a little curtsey, holding out the edge of her dress, which matched her bonnet ribbon exactly in hue. "Ever filling the role."

"Forgive me, I did not anticipate your arrival so soon," he said, his voice a bit cool to temper his disorientation. He looked to his mother, who tried not to look too amused through her expression of disapproval; he looked also to his brother, who did not rein in his smirk. With his gaze returned to Miss Jones, he said in that same tone, "And I did not anticipate your presence at all, Miss Jones. Forgive me my appearance."

"Do not apologise," she said, her good humour vanished. "Your mother insisted I make the journey with her and Captain Darcy, and instead Jamie went with our parents. I should apologise to you for intruding."

"Nonsense, child," said Lady Darcy. "You were invited into this home."

"I trust you had a pleasant journey?" asked Darcy, hoping to change the subject.

"I was about to ask the same of you," said Peter wryly. "Did you only just get in on Jamie's horse?"

"I was touring the grounds with Mr Benwick so I could see the state of affairs."

"Mr Benwick?" asked Miss Jones.

"The steward," Peter reminded.

"Right, yes, my apologies," said Darcy. "Anyway, I had hardly had a chance before we swept out of town to King's Lynn, and there is much to be done, and much that needed my approval."

"Do not let us keep you from refreshing yourself after your time out of doors," said Peter. "I have matters to attend to, myself." At this Miss Jones inexplicably grinned playfully before looking to Darcy, at which her face went stone cold serious again.

As Lady Darcy made her way out of the foyer to direct the baggage to the appropriate locations, Peter walked towards the direction of the library and Miss Jones appeared to start following him. "Miss Jones, a word?"

"Of course, sir."

After she came nearer, he asked, "Is everything all right? Are you feeling quite yourself after what happened the other day?"

"The pain has lessened some, but I have been kept in high spirits by… friends," she said. He watched her bite on her lower lip; he realised she had done so because it was quivering. "Sir, despite the kindness you have previously shown me… if you do not find my company agreeable anymore, please say so. I will understand."

He furrowed his brow. "What makes you think I find you disagreeable to be around?"

Her gaze fell to her hands, from which she had not yet had the chance to remove her gloves. "Your countenance at seeing me, at noticing my presence, was…" She trailed off, blushing. "Less than welcoming."

He cast his thoughts back to when he had entered, and realised she was right; he had not at all been hospitable. "I am very sorry for that," he said. "I truly was just caught off guard, not particularly presentable after riding out of doors, and desperately in need of fresh clothes. I am indeed quite pleased to see you."

She looked up again, the hint of a smile finding her lips. He had forgotten in just two short days how like the summer sky the shade of her eyes were. "I am glad," she said. "Truly." She straightened her posture and beamed a smile. "Well, I shall let you to your wardrobe, and I in the meantime have an engagement of my own. Oh." She screwed up her face. "Poor choice of words."

He chuckled a little; he knew she was probably referring to spending time with his mother as he had heard she often did. "Perhaps. Go on, and I will see you later."

With that he headed up the stairs and towards his quarters, resisting the urge to look back to watch her head in the direction of whichever activity she had previously arranged. His valet helped him to choose something smart to wear, and after a quick warm bath, he dressed and, feeling suddenly ravenous, went to the drawing room to see if anything had been prepared for lunch.

He found his mother in there, alone, which perplexed him. "Mark, there you are," she said, looking up from the needlework she loved but so rarely did due to her declining short-distance focus. "What are you looking for?"

There was a plate of bread, cheese and apples, and he picked up a bit of each. "Something to eat," he said, rather redundantly, biting into the bread and cheese. "I was just confused about where Miss Jones might be if not with you."

"I believe she is keeping your brother company," she said with a smile. It was a bit mysterious of her; his brows drew together in confusion. "She plays with her own brother so frequently," his mother continued, "I did not see any harm in allowing her to do so here."

Darcy had an inkling of what she might mean, and to confirm or disprove this, after finishing the bread and cheese, he left the room, apple in hand, and went directly to where the billiards table was. He entered the room just in time to see (and hear) Miss Jones squeal in delight over a win.

Peter caught the undoubtedly shocked expression on Darcy's face and began to laugh unabashedly. Miss Jones spun around, saw Darcy and flushed bright red. To set her at ease, he smiled. "I see you have bested a naval captain at billiards. This is a true accomplishment," Darcy said, then slid into a mockingly stern tone to add, "if exceedingly non-standard for a lady such as yourself."

She gave him a sidelong look.

Finally he said, "Impropriety will not be tolerated."

Cautiously she allowed a smile, then a laugh. "Sometimes I cannot tell when you are being truly serious."

"He used to always be truly serious," said his brother. Darcy looked up to see a pleased smile on Peter's face.

She narrowed her eyes but offered a crooked grin. "Is that so?"

"My brother exaggerates," Darcy said, feeling a little heat near his collar.

"Shall I tempt you, then," she began, "with a game of billiards?"

Darcy was not proud of the thought that had flared through his head upon the conclusion of the first part of the sentence, helped along by the fact that his eyes had lit upon her Spanish silver necklace, showcased nicely by the collar of her dress. He became all too aware of what else was showcased by that collar, and he quickly looked away. "If you wish, I would be happy to," he said, turning his awkward movement into a search for somewhere to set the apple down. There was nowhere convenient. "Here," he said, handing it to his brother. "Hold this for me."

Their games were long and challenging and proved two things to Darcy: that she was indeed a skilled billiards player (something she could hardly boast to other ladies in society) and her previous wins had not merely been the advantage of surprise over him, and that they were well-matched to play one another. When they finished—she bested him, three out of five rounds—he looked up and realised it must have been hours that had passed, and that his brother had slipped out.

"This has been a great diversion," she said as she turned the cue in her hands, then turned to look at him; her cheeks were flush with excitement, her hair was escaping its pins in little golden wisps. Her chest rose and fell as she sighed, and Darcy realised he was inescapably more in love with her than ever. "Great indeed. Thank you for your time this afternoon. I am sure you have more important things to do."

"A pleasure, truly," he said, thinking that 'important' was surely a relative concept; getting to spend this much time with her with no one else around was a rare gift. "It has been a welcome break from the activities of this morning."

"How about best of seven, then?" she queried playfully. It was impossible to refuse.

They engaged in a game once more and she was well on her way to taking a fourth when it occurred to Darcy that, though she was quite skilled, he was also quite distracted both by her very proximity and by the fact that they were alone, and these things were surely contributing to the state of his play. This was underscored when she leaned forward to take a shot at a ball and, from across the table, as her necklace dangled down, Darcy was offered quite a view.

"Still at it, are we?"

His brother's voice startled him, and he turned quickly to face him, straightening his posture and feeling as if he had been caught doing something illicit. "Peter," he said.

"Was coming to enquire whether or not you intended to stop for dinner."

Darcy wondered briefly if he should arrange for her passage home (if she did not insist upon walking) when she answered, standing up straight, "Oh, yes, so very sorry. The time got away from us. We will be there presently."

Darcy realised that, naturally, his mother and brother had invited her to stay for dinner. "Let us not keep my mother waiting."

He corralled the balls for storage while she returned the cues, then, with a small smile, she claimed his elbow for him to escort her to dinner as he had done each night she had dined at King's Lynn. It was not strictly necessary; he knew she was just being playful, reinforced by her comment, "Assassins could be around any corner." He was glad to do it all the same.

Dinner was excellent as always and he found himself quite grateful for the greater intimacy of the setting; the din of mealtime at the Alconburys' home had become increasingly difficult to bear. Darcy did not say much, just observed in silence, and was quite certain his brother would tease him mercilessly about the fact that he seemed mesmerised by Miss Jones. He was willing to take the teasing; it was a fair price to pay for the ability to be thus mesmerised.

The carriage ride home seemed to have been previously arranged, too, and after dinner and dessert, she gathered her things in preparation to leave. "You will, of course, join me in accompanying Miss Jones back to The Gables," said Peter, assuming an answer in the affirmative in the tone in which he spoke.

"Of course."

The ride was not a particularly long one as their houses were not terribly far apart, but he spent the time in contemplation of the lady before him. Upon their arrival to her house, Darcy emerged to help her out, and as she stepped down he thought fleetingly of her arrival to the Alconburys' when she had jumped from the coach. He smiled at the recollection.

The three of them walked to the door—Darcy noticed that his brother remained a pace behind—and when they ascended to the porch, Darcy reached forth and opened the door for her. "Thank you," she said as she passed before him and into the entryway.

Shortly after their entrance her mother came into view. "I thought I heard a carriage on the drive," Mrs Jones said, smiling. "Thank you for bringing her home."

"It was no trouble," said Darcy.

The two Jones men appeared then, the elder looking pleased to see his daughter, and the younger looking equally pleased to see his sister in Darcy's company. "I see you have delivered her safe and sound," said Mr Jones. "I had no doubts. Please, sirs, join my son and me for after dinner port and a few puffs on your pipes—you have eaten, have you not?"

"A very fine dinner indeed," said Miss Jones.

Darcy would have preferred to linger in the company of Miss Jones, but thought time with her father and brother would not be time ill-spent. "We would be pleased to join you, sir," he said, removing his hat. He turned and bowed slightly towards Miss Jones. "You will excuse us."

"Of course," she said, "but do not think of leaving without saying goodbye."

"We would not dream of it," offered Peter.

The port was a very good one, excellently complementing Peter's cheroots, which he shared with the Jones men. They talked between puffs and sips, mostly Darcy describing at Mr Jones' request what he had done that day. Now that all uneasiness had been abolished between them, Darcy found Mr Jones a pleasure to talk to; wry sense of humour and full of modest self-deprecation, much like his daughter. When they concluded, Darcy explained they should return home and in unison they rose from where they sat. Walking from the drawing room towards the door, however, Darcy's ear was caught by the sound of music so beautiful he could not speak.

"Whatever is that?" asked Peter.

Mr Jones smiled. "That would likely be my Bridget. My wife encourages her to practise the harp since she does not do so much on her own."

"This is practising?" Peter asked. Darcy felt much the same way.

At that moment, he heard a sour tone and a mild curse.

"Bridget! Language!" said her mother exasperatedly. "The Darcy gentlemen are still here. Do you want them to hear you use such vulgarity?"

"No, Mother," said Miss Jones resignedly.

They crossed the threshold and into the door just as she poised her fingers over the strings of a very beautiful instrument; Welsh harp, if Darcy had to guess, since he saw no pedals and it seemed to have more strings than most harps he had seen. She was a vision of loveliness, ready to brush her fingers across the strings again, but at their appearance she instead tipped the harp upright again and stood up from her stool.

"Do you see what I mean?" asked her mother.

Miss Jones seemed to disregard her mother's words and spoke instead to Darcy and his brother. "Are you leaving, then?"

"Yes," said Darcy. "We dared not leave without saying goodbye."

She smiled. "Perhaps we will see one another soon."

"I sincerely hope so," Darcy said. "You play wonderfully."

Peter agreed. "It was unfortunate that there was no harp at the Alconburys'. I would have much preferred your playing to the caterwauling of Miss Enderby's."

"Peter," Darcy scolded in hush tones, though honestly he agreed.

Darcy could not be quite sure with the distance between them, but he thought her cheeks went pink. "I am not nearly as—" she began, then simply finished, "Thank you, sir." He wondered what she had begun to say but did not; 'not nearly as good as Miss Enderby,' perhaps? "And thank you again for dinner tonight."

"Of course."

"Oh," said Mrs Jones, "you must come for dinner, all of you. Are you free tomorrow night? Or the next?"

"I do not think we have plans, but I will consult with my mother when I return home." Darcy put on his hat, as did his brother, a signal they were about to leave. "We shall send word soon."

They were barely to the coach when Peter chuckled to himself. "Sorry about the 'caterwauling' comment. It just came out."

"I did not see that anyone was overcome with the urge to defend Miss Enderby's playing," mused Darcy with a grin.

"So, Mark," said Peter after a moment. "When will you make it official?"

"Pardon?"

"Courting Miss Jones."

Darcy did not respond immediately, but their ride was short, and he did not want to have this discussion in the house. "It is too soon," he said. "She is still mending a broken heart, and I will not pressure her."

"I do not think much pressure will be required, brother," said Peter. "She seems half in love with you already. She only needs to allow herself a chance to realise it."

Darcy made a dismissive sound. "She thinks of us equally like brothers."

"She does not blush when I compliment her," he said. "Perhaps she needs more encouragement from you, not less."

Darcy thought it was his brother seeing what he wanted to see, but on the subject he said no more. He was resolute on being patient, on not catching her on the rebound, of not making himself into a consolation prize, even if she had, by all accounts, had her heart turned away from that scoundrel Cleaver.