Dear Sunday friends, thank you for the lovely comments. We will concentrate on Darcy and his friends this week. Happy reading and commenting! And thanks everyone for voting and title change suggestions over at Facebook. We've a new title: Mr. Darcy: Gentleman Farmer Needs a Wife
Chapter Four
"Darce! May I introduce you to my second cousin, Mrs Caroline Lambie?" Charles Bingley, as amiable as ever, eagerly presented a tall slim woman with ginger hair. Charles told Darcy earlier that his cousin, formerly Miss Caroline Bingley, was very active in London society. She was widowed last year. She might be their perfect assistant to help Darcy in this wife-searching business. Darcy was annoyed that Charles told someone else about his intention without asking his permission first.
"Call me Ms Caroline, My Lord," Her eyes were unsettling wide, and she held her hand out. Darcy gave it a timid shake, thanking her for coming. With her hand in the air for a moment, she waited, and Richard let out a hearty cough. Darcy realised Ms Caroline was waiting for a friendly kiss. Her eyes burned with anticipation; she wore a tight, shiny, bright orange dress, pushing her blossoms up as high as they could.
"A pleasure," Darcy leant down. As soon as his lips touched her glove, it was as if the woman had been torched by fire. She mustn't have felt the touch of a man for a very long time, Darcy thought to himself. Richard, pretending to be Bingley's foil in every way, sat silently with a big glass of whiskey. Bingley cleared his throat loudly to cover the awkwardness; Caroline looked as if she had fallen in love, not losing eye contact with Darcy until she took her seat.
"Darce, the luncheon was superb. I really must say I'm practically bursting out of this waistcoat." Bingley slapped his stomach, a cheery laugh coming his way. Richard gave a grunt in agreement.
"Indeed." Richard finally blurted out. He scarcely spoke after Bingley arrived, so when he did with his deep, booming voice, it was a shock to the senses.
"Yes, indeed, it was delightful, Lord Ripley." Caroline sang, making doe eyes. With her blinking so much, Darcy thought she might have had something in her eye.
"I say, where is that little tyke Georgiana?" Richard asked.
"She is unwell, Richard," Darcy replied quicker than he had intended.
"Oh, the poor lamb," Caroline cooed, her shrill voice infecting Darcy's ears. "If she's anything like you, my Lord, I am sure she is a true gem. And, very beautiful." Caroline blushed, deliberately taking a hand, putting it on her bosom, and playing with the neckline. "Poor lamb, I know it shocked my senses when my dearest Jack passed. I was never the same. I was always faint and had terrible stomach problems. I can't take food that is too rich."
Darcy nodded, wanting the conversation to be over.
"Lady Georgiana still must be grieving, the poor thing. Imagine losing both parents." She looked over at their portraits on the wall, blinking away tears. "I'm sure the presence of a lady would help the poor lamb, especially one who has been through such grief and understands…" she made circles with her thumb on the exposed skin of her chest. Darcy politely looked away, wanting to melt into the floor.
"That is precisely why we are here," Richard boomed, giving Darcy a severe look. "Now, we must think of suitable ladies. I can send more invites out for the ball next week. You have it on your diary, don't you, Darcy?" He raised an eyebrow. Darcy nodded.
"Perhaps Lady Susan Baxter? She has a hefty dowry and comes from a good family."
"She does have a mole on her chin," Caroline said.
"Yes, it is rather big." Bingley droned in agreement.
"Mmm, I suppose she doesn't have as many talents as the other women. Perhaps not." Caroline continued.
"She's terrible at the pianoforte," Bingley remarked.
"Oh, I am rather good!" Caroline shot up at the opportunity. Darcy hadn't seen the piano used since his mother used to take Georgiana on her lap and teach her. He remembered Georgiana's giggles. He thought of his mother's maternal love that she never shared with him and wondered what he did wrong. Lady Anne Darcy was excellent at the piano.
Before Darcy could protest, a series of notes were played horribly. At each natural stop, Caroline would look as if to get applause from an audience. None came, but the more she was ignored, the louder she played.
"A delight to the senses, is it not?" Said Richard, his eyes wide. There was nothing that could stop the horrible noise.
"Yes, perfect, excellent. I'm just going to pour myself a drink." Darcy put more alcohol in his glass than perhaps he should have.
In a low voice, Bingley leant closer to his friends. "She has been a menace to our family since her husband died. My poor mother has taken pity on her and given me the burden. Who would take her as a wife again?"
"Darcy will!" Richard jested.
"She's about as half-witted and wretched as the Dishley Leicester," Darcy whispered, drinking.
"Another breed of sheep you have?" Bingley said.
Darcy added, "Long legs, long bodies, long necks, bare skins with blueness around the face. The ugliest creature in the field."
"Are you colour-blind?" Richard muttered. "She has a hint of orange instead of blue on the face."
"I'm sure Georgiana would be less hassle to manage my cousin, would she be, eh, Darce?" Charles asked.
Darcy thought of his sister upstairs, still weak from the rotten cheese and travel. If only they knew.
"Perhaps I can get her something? A gift for her troubles? Oh, you know I am very fond of her, Darce,"
"That won't be necessary."
"A book! I know she loves reading, a good Shakespeare one. They are fascinating. Or perhaps you should read some yourself. That will get you in the right mindset to find a wife, eh?" Bingley said.
"It's not something to jest about. This is my duty. I must carry on my family name. Oh, how I hate it!"
"Hate what?" Richard said. He was so used to Darcy having his temperament under control.
"The courting, the waiting, the dull conversations, the dancing." Darcy mumbled.
"You're a terrible dancer," Bingley said, not looking up from playing with his waistcoat buttons.
"Yes, exactly!"
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm afraid it's your job to do the wooing." Charles added.
It seemed Caroline had finished her horrendous piano playing. The room was silent.
"Ah, yes! Gentlemen, I agree about the wooing, and so far, I must say, my Lord, I can be assured that your wooing skills would be more than enough." There was a pause.
"I think I may go for a stroll." Darcy needed to get out of there; he knew it was his responsibility to entertain his guests, but perhaps this had been too much for him.
"Oh, I would love to take a walk around the townhouse! It's so beautiful. May I join you?" Caroline asked, perfectly excited. Bingley raised his eyebrows as if to plead with him. Darcy sighed to himself, then smiled with a grimace.
"Of course, Ms Caroline, it would be my pleasure." He took her arm, but she had clawed her nails right into his arm. On the way out, Richard mouthed 'Good Luck'. Darcy would need it.
~0~
"I do love to stroll around the garden, the freshness of the air," Caroline took an incredibly long breath. "Oh, isn't it just wonderful!" She pulled Darcy around to look at her.
"Ah, um, yes, it is Ms Caroline." He felt horribly uncomfortable, even more so than he had at the many balls and social events he had to attend. This, by far, was the worst.
"And do you wonder, perhaps that is where all of those romantic writers get their ideas, Shakespeare too!"
"Yes, I'm sure they did." They took a turn about the grounds; Darcy loved the greenery around his townhouse, the high walls, and the huge trees that lined the garden in a U shape. Everything seemed perfectly peaceful there until this very moment.
"If I may be so bold to ask," she smiled seductively, and Darcy could tell immediately that this was not a question he wanted to have to answer.
"I wondered if you had had any luck in finding a wife?" Darcy shook his head, not dignifying it with an answer. Ms. Caroline looked down as if she were as innocent and as desirable as Ophelia. She wasn't. She was terrible on her feet, even with walking - as if one foot was significantly bigger than the other. Often finding herself tripping over Darcy, which he knew was no accident.
"Do you like poetry, my Lord?"
"No." He did, but Darcy wanted as little conversation with her as possible.
"I am such an admirer of all of Shakespeare's sonnets. I've never read such a deep exploration of the human soul and so prolific! I think his words of love are beautiful." She was dragging them closer and closer to the sheep's topiary area. Darcy tried to avoid it, offering a look at the poppies and daffodils; women like flowers, he thought pathetically. It was about as much as he knew about wooing.
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds, admit impediments," she began reciting. Each time she batted her eyes, each time her arm inched closer to him, he could feel a chill running down his spine. Surely, he wasn't supposed to feel this much aversion towards a woman.
"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds," she put her hands up to her face as if she were trying to do some grand dance. As if she were trying to bewitch Darcy into some kind of spell, when she would so clearly do no such thing.
"Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! It is an ever-fixed mark, — oh aren't these words beautiful!" She took his hands, which surprised Darcy. He then quickly took them away.
"Oh, my Lord, I do apologise." She turned red, putting a stray hair back into its place. Darcy became concerned she was inching him closer and closer to the topiary area - like a lion taking its prey into his den to devour them. Darcy was now in the lion's den, and he was the sheep.
"Ah, Ms Caroline, I think we shouldn't stray into the topiary area. It can be rather dangerous. There are pointed twigs and shrubs."
Caroline raised an eyebrow, suddenly stopping her ethereal dance. "Wouldn't your gardeners get injured then?"
Darcy replied, "Ah, we haven't informed them yet."
Caroline let out a laugh that startled him. It rose from her chest and nose and blurted out like a French horn. "Oh, my Lord, you make me laugh, I must say. It's one of the things I admire about you," she licked her lips.
Darcy didn't understand how it could be something she admired about him when they had only just met. She continued to make chatter with siren eyes that clearly had no impact on him due to his pure aversion to such a woman.
"That looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is the star to every wand-ring bark - What do you suppose Shakespeare means when he says that?"
"I suppose he is talking about a boat," said Darcy flatly.
"Precisely, love is a freeing thing to have in your life, the compass that guides us. I am sure, Lord Ripley, that when you find it will set your heart alight as it did mine once..." the woman stopped and put her hands in her face. She started to sob.
Darcy hastily took out a handkerchief, the one without his initial, but she batted it away on seeing its quality. She continued reciting the poem.
"Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd."
Darcy wondered if she wanted him to clap. Taking a bow usually followed a marvellous performance worthy of it, but this was not; even so, she continued to whimper, and Darcy grew concerned.
"Ms Caroline, should we take you inside the topiary area?"
"My Jack used to love nature. I just want to remember him."
Darcy took a deep breath. Surely, there was no untoward reason as to why she would want him in that part of the garden. It was something symbolic.
"Very well, Ms Caroline, it would be my honour to take you to stroll through the animal topiary area. May I?"
Darcy extended a hand, and she followed, knowing he had no choice. He tried to rationalise in his unquiet mind – it was a simple stroll, and they would return, and nothing would be changed. Suddenly her tears seemed to fade. Despite her wide eyes and puffy face, Darcy could see something of her youth and admired her spirit. She was older than he was, only by a few years. Darcy shook his head at the thought of marrying her. He couldn't last listen to her playing. He would expire listening to that woman for the rest of his life.
"It's wonderful. I feel like Titania, Queen of the fairies!" She lifted her dress and started to run.
"Ms Caroline, please, you may fall!" Disgruntled, Darcy followed her.
Ahead of her, he heard a branch snap. Caroline stopped, looked at it, and jumped over it delicately. She gave him a glance that, to Darcy's absolute horror, seemed to be a playful, flirting look. Darcy shuddered. As Darcy had predicted, she'd fallen, but where he couldn't tell.
"Ms?" He came up to find her sobbing again. Or, what he thought was weeping, she was laughing.
"My goodness, how unladylike of me! Whatever was I doing? My Lord, would you please help me up?" She half-lay on the ground as if she were drunk, her eyes rolling from the back of her head, laughing uncontrollably. He put out a hand, but she made no attempt to grab it.
"Ms Caroline, are you quite alright?" He asked, attempting to hide his irritation.
"Oh my Lord, I'm so tangled! You'll have to help me!" she feigned being caught amongst branches and thorns, wriggling pathetically.
Darcy complied in her game and bent down to her level, but what happened next was beyond what he ever expected. She took his hand and pulled him down, her head against his chest. Darcy was mortified as she pretended to flail in a fluster, a true damsel in distress. If anyone, any servants, saw - he'd have to marry her in an instant. He shot up as quickly as she could.
"My Lord! You cannot leave me!" Darcy heard behind him. Caroline continued to scream, letting out a loud wail. A bawl that sounded like a child that had not got their way. Darcy ran until he reached the door and sigalled for his footman to assist the woman. He knew it was something he shouldn't have done; it was not gentlemanly. But Darcy felt it was instinctual, a fight or flight response. He was a wild animal who had successfully escaped his hungry prey.
~0~
A week later
Darcy had always cherished his time at the market with his father. It was there he would find the finest meats to bring home to his mother. His father would tell him which was good and best to avoid. The horses there would stand, neighing their heads up and down, and one day, on Darcy's fifth Birthday, his father bought him a horse. He had been admiring the white stallion from a distance, and his father could see in his boyish eyes what it meant to him.
"Don't tell your mother," he said. It was so exciting Darcy could barely contain himself while at home and blurted it out. His father puffed out his chest and feigned his anger at his son for begging for a horse, winking at him. That night in the stables, he stayed looking at his new horse with a sense of awe. He gave the horse a pet name as if it were the Pegasus from Greek mythology.
"This is your responsibility. I've told the stable boy not to be involved. This is all on you, Son. One day you will be responsible for Pemberley. Perhaps you should start small." Darcy dreamed of that horse often. Today he did not dream of having Caroline by his side after the previous week's events. Still, Bingley had begged him to forget about the entire ordeal for the sake of his poor ailing mother. "I would not want a disgrace on our family. Shall we forget about this entire thing?"
Darcy had nodded but requested to keep his distance. In fact, he was surprised that the consequences of his running off had not been greater. Caroline kept her head high, holding onto her cousin's arm for dear life. She wore another ridiculously bright orange dress that pierced the eyes of anyone who might have seen her for more than a moment. No doubt she was looking for another man to ruin, another man to find in the wrong place at the wrong time to entrap him.
"Best to keep her in your sight," Richard barked, not looking at his cousin. "Shall I get Georgiana something from the market? She loves books, doesn't she, the clever little thing." Richard was away fighting the French and had not dealt much with Georgiana in the past few years.
Darcy had always appreciated how kind he was to his sister. If Georgiana was well and not practically under house arrest, he might have let her come to the market with them.
"She is very clever. She gets it from Father." Darcy remarked, admiring the meats hung up on hooks. Darcy was taught by his father what good meat was. Avoid the ones with a mass of flies around. They are more than likely spoiled and have been up for days. He thought of this when he saw a young couple pick the biggest slab hanging, the one with the most flies. Caroline's ridiculous parasol kept hitting him in the back.
"I would like to go to the dress shop, Cousin Charles. I saw a beautiful peach day dress outside the shop window. Would you come with me? It would be nice if one gentleman in this party treated a lady properly." Still, with her nose in the air, she walked in front of Darcy and gave him a repugnant look.
"She has some nerve, doesn't she?" said Darcy under his breath to Richard.
"Bingley, blink twice if you'd like us to come and rescue you!" Richard shouted, jesting. Caroline also gave him a look of disgust.
~0~
The market was packed. The beautiful colours melted into the products and the multi-coloured clothes of the men and women there. Peddlers sold their vibrant fabrics, trinkets, food and fresh meat. Women sold flowers out for cheaper than Darcy would ever be expected.
"Perhaps you should take a flower and give it to a lady today!" Richard said.
Darcy rolled his eyes. He hated how silly Richard was sometimes. "You truly have no shame, do you?" Darcy retorted.
"Have a little fun!" The picturesque roof of the market made the sun seem like it was shining in beautiful colours. Everything was bright, busy and not something Darcy wanted. All he could think about was his sister. The waft from the cheese stall made him feel sick.
Richard had interested himself in some silks, "The Mrs might like these colours,"
"You seem to know your wife well."
"Why, that was a silly question, my friend." Darcy didn't quite know how to articulate himself.
"Both of you talk, don't you?"
"Yes, of course, my god, man, it would be a boring marriage, wouldn't it?"
"I mean, the courtship was more than something you had to do?"
"Besides her family and hefty dowry, why yes, I did find her rather comely, and we had topics to speak about. Poetry, the country, she likes the theatre too."
"You seem to be happy."
Richard took a moment. He breathed in deeply. "No matter the situation with my wife, Darce, this is about you finding your own. It's not as easy as finding cattle or sheep and picking out what might be best practically. Have you ever heard of love, dear man?" He laughed, half joking.
Darcy was silent for a moment.
"I don't mean to speak out of turn."
"Not at all." They continued through. The smells and sights became overwhelming; the heat from the glass-tunnelled ceiling made everything seem stuffy; Darcy poked at his top collar, letting air in. "Why are you looking at new silks?"
"Can a man not look at new materials for his wife? Darce, you really are full of questions today, aren't you?"
"I ask if there is some sort of new colour in, a new fashion. I wonder if I should advise Hannah to get Georgiana something to fit in."
"Well, my wife's modiste is wonderful. You let me know, and I'll get Georgiana fitted with whatever she would like for her debut - in years to come, of course." He slapped Darcy on the back and felt the tension he had been holding there. "Perhaps some good news may be in order."
"Good news?" Darcy asked.
Richard turned to speak to him more privately. Darcy could smell the fresh pies, the smell of the dyes for the silks and dresses. Away from the flood of people, away from the world, two friends spoke quietly.
"My wife is expecting. I am to be a father."
Darcy felt ridiculous for allowing his own thoughts to consume him and neglecting their friendship. With his foolish thoughts and worries, whatever Darcy needed, Richard was right there behind. The boy who used to ride horses at midnight with him and steal cake from the kitchen in their youth - was going to be a father. Darcy was enthralled. "This is wonderful news. Congratulations!"
Richard smiled a genuine smile and received one back. A moment of warmth in Darcy's seemingly grey and unsettled days.
"That's why I have been looking for new materials for her dresses to be taken out. Of course, it's not quite obvious yet, but do act surprised when it is announced, my dear friend. She would have me killed and strung up like those pieces of meat there if she knew I told a soul before she was the one to inform society."
"I do hope it's a boy." Darcy blurted out, thinking of Georgiana. He thought of how he had failed as a guardian and could scarcely imagine himself being a father, let alone anything else.