A/N
Chapter 18 of LTGHW. Hope you enjoy.
Thank you for engagement/feedback and to those who took out time to point out the typos etc. I am grateful.
N
Like the Gentleman He Was
Chapter 18
Lady Matlock sent a message a couple of days before the much-anticipated ball, inviting the Darcys to Matlock House for tea. From what Elizabeth could understand from the brief missive, it was to take stock of the preparations and deliberate over any last-minute suggestions. According to her puzzled husband, it was most uncharacteristic of his aunt to be so anxious about something she could arrange with a hand tied behind her back.
Elizabeth assumed that Lady Matlock was apprehensive because she, Elizabeth, was an outsider to the ton. And while she could understand the concern, she believed that the countess was worrying unnecessarily. Admittedly, her outings in the ton had been few, but they had been quite educational and eye-opening. They had already taught Elizabeth to be wary of the motivations of those she met.
She was also confident that she would be able to hold her own against the Lady Lancasters of the world but was willing to follow Lady Matlock's lead because she understood that the countess's worry stemmed from concern. Even in the short time she had been part of the family, the strong bond of love between the Darcy siblings and their aunt was easily discernible.
When Elizabeth and Darcy arrived at Matlock House, they found the earl, Lady Matlock, Emmaline, and Sebastian gathered in the countess's favourite parlour.
"Where is Georgiana?" Lady Matlock enquired.
It was Elizabeth who answered her. "She has gone to visit a friend, but she will be joining us in a little while."
The earl's brows rose at the response. "Who is this friend for whom Georgie ignored her aunt's summons?" he asked wryly.
"You are mixing up the aunts, my dear. I am not Lady Catherine de Bourgh; I do not issue summons," Lady Matlock retorted dryly before bestowing a sweet smile on her husband.
There was a sudden flurry of coughing and clearing of throats in the parlour, so Darcy elected to clarify. "In any case, Georgie has not ignored the… erm… invitation. She will arrive soon."
"Hmm." The countess nodded. "As will Richard. He had urgent summons from the war office this morning, but he promised he would join us," she added.
Lady Minerva was conspicuous by her absence, and there appeared to be an understanding regarding her among the Fitzwilliams because none of them mentioned her.
"Mother, I do not understand why you needed all of us to be present today. Please stop worrying," Viscount Raymore grumbled. "Remember, you did not turn a hair even when Prinny dropped in for my wedding breakfast!" he added for good measure.
"Raymore has the right of it, my dear. From what I have seen of the arrangements, everything seems to be under control." The earl seconded his heir.
"Oh, I know everything is in control as far as the arrangements are concerned. It is just that I want everything to be perfect for Darcy and Elizabeth. I-I promised Anne that I would look after her children."
There was a silence after that confession, which was finally broken by Darcy. "And I can assure you that you have kept your promise most diligently, Aunt Susan," he said quietly.
Lady Matlock cleared her throat and smiled a little self-consciously. "So, does anyone have any suggestions for me?"
"I think Raymore spoke for all of us when he asked you to quit worrying." This time, it was Emmaline who spoke.
"Yes, and this much I can say with certainty, Madam, that on the day of the ball we will have good food and good music, and most of the people will enjoy themselves. But there will also be some complainers and whiners. Every function has a few of these. You cannot change their behaviour, and no one would expect you to do so, not even Anne," Lord Matlock said, and he pressed his wife's hand affectionately.
"Very well, I am going to heed all your advice and talk no more about the arrangements," his wife conceded before picking up a beautifully wrapped package from a nearby table.
"Instead, let me give Elizabeth the gown that she will be wearing for the ball," she said, holding out the large package to Elizabeth.
"Thank you, my lady. I think I am not exaggerating when I say that it is one of the most beautiful gowns I have ever owned."
"Then I must also see this beautiful confection." Darcy stretched his arm towards the package Elizabeth had just kept between them on the sofa.
"No, Darcy, do not see it now. It will have a greater impact if you first see it when Elizabeth is wearing it," Emmaline stopped him with a playful smile.
"Since when did you become so interested in ball gowns, Darcy?" Colonel Fitzwilliam's teasing voice made everyone look towards the door.
"Ever since he got married, I suppose." Emmaline grinned at her brother and added, "That is what a good husband should ideally do—be interested in his wife's… con..cerns." Her voice wobbled a little as she saw the man standing behind her brother.
Colonel Fitzwilliam saw the direction of her gaze and exclaimed, "Oh, yes, let me introduce you to my friend in arms, Major James Bramwell. He served with me in the 7th Hussars, very heroically, I must add. Therefore, I feel sad that he has decided to leave the army."
"We met Major Bramwell a few days ago at Mrs Chantry's do," Emmaline added in a colourless voice.
Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyebrow shot up at the disclosure. "You never mentioned it, Bramwell." He looked enquiringly at his junior.
Major Bramwell flushed slightly. "Um… the matter never came up for discussion, sir."
"Hmm. In any case, let me introduce you to those of us you have not met."
~§§§~
While the introductions were taking place, Georgiana Darcy entered the parlour. That she was extremely upset was apparent from the fact that instead of greeting those present, she sat next to her brother and cried out, "Poor Sophia is all but ruined, Fitzwilliam. That is the reason she responded so late to my missive."
"I was afraid of that." Darcy sighed. "What exactly has happened since the soirée?"
"Almost all the invitations that she had received prior to the soirée have been rescinded on some pretext or another. There have been no new ones, and a few of those she thought were her friends have even given her the cut direct! Since the last couple of days, she has not even ventured out to her garden," Georgiana revealed in a distressed voice. She did not notice that the attention of the whole room was now directed at her.
"Is this about the Manwaring saga, Darcy?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked his cousin.
Darcy nodded before asking his sister, "So, what is Miss Preston planning to do?"
"What else can she do but go back to her home? She will be leaving the day after the morrow." Despite her efforts, a tear fell from her eye. "Truth be told, she never wanted to come to London for the season but bowed to her father's wishes. Sh-She is somewhat of a bluestocking and is interested in the study of plants. She was hoping to go back home unattached, but not like this—shamed and ruined."
For a long moment, there was an uncomfortable silence in the parlour. It was broken when Emmaline asked in a puzzled voice, "But why did she go after Manwaring into the garden that evening?"
"Because he sent her a message that he has discovered a bookseller who will be able to procure a book on some exotic flowers she had been fruitlessly searching for a long while. She knows she behaved foolishly and that she did not think before she acted, but… I do not think it is fair that she has to pay such a big price for a foolish mistake."
"Well, she should have thought about the consequences before she acted so heedlessly," Colonel Fitzwilliam retorted flippantly.
"What in heaven's name are you saying, Richard? Do you believe a young, naïve girl deserves to be ruined for an error of judgement?" Darcy asked his cousin coldly.
The colonel appeared stricken for a brief moment, then he looked away from his cousins. "No… no, of course not. It was cruel of me to speak so thoughtlessly. I apologise."
Darcy nodded, then turned to his aunt. "I agree with Georgie, Aunt Susan. Miss Preston does not deserve to be reviled like this, and it grieves me that a rake like Manwaring is getting away with his nefarious plan."
"I agree with you, Fitzwilliam. But we cannot help, even if we want to."
"Oh, but you can, if you really want to."
Lady Matlock's eyes widened in surprise. "Please speak plainly. What exactly do you want from me, Fitzwilliam?"
"I want you to send an invitation to the ball to Miss Preston and her aunt. If you are seen to consider her fit for an invitation, and if my uncle, Raymore, or both are seen to consider her fit for a dance, then I believe she will be… ah… un-ruined quite swiftly."
Lady Matlock looked searchingly at her nephew, then smiled. "Very well, Fitzwilliam, I will send Miss Preston an invitation today."
"Oh, thank you, Brother; I knew if anyone could help Sophia, it would be you!" Georgiana exclaimed happily before throwing herself into her brother's arms.
"But it is I who is sending the invitation to your friend, young lady," Lady Matlock pointed out.
"Of course, I meant you and brother both, Aunt Susan," Georgiana corrected herself so hastily that she made her aunt smile in amusement.
Lady Matlock's smile disappeared suddenly. "Oh, but there is one problem."
"What problem, Mother?"
"I have invited Mr Manwaring to the ball, and it would be bad form to un-invite him at the last moment. If he and Miss Preston both turn up for the ball, it would do more harm than good."
"The way in which that scoundrel has behaved, I believe you can easily un-invite him, my dear, but I suppose it would be for the best if he did not turn up on his own," Lord Matlock remarked meditatively.
"He is a member of Jackson's club. I can easily request him for a bout and then ensure that I break a bone or two," Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested, only half in jest.
"Really, Richard, if you continue to joke in this irresponsible manner, you will give a very odd idea about yourself to Elizabeth," Lord Matlock complained irritably.
Major Bramwell hurriedly suggested a more palatable alternative. "Well, Manwaring is a card-playing crony of my cousin's, and all because they both play quite deep. I will ask Alexander to invite Manwaring to a card party on the day of the ball. I will then ensure that he does not leave the premises until well into the next morning."
"That is not acceptable at all, Bramwell. We want Manwaring away from the ball, not you," Colonel Fitzwilliam objected to the major's suggestion.
"Yes, Major Bramwell, you must come to the ball," Lady Matlock insisted.
Viscount Raymore raised further objections to Major Bramwell's plan. "Manwaring might not accept your cousin's invitation in the first place. Also, if Miss Preston is to get her ruined reputation back, we need him to disappear from the London scene at least for a month or two."
"But who can ensure that?" Georgiana asked anxiously.
"I can, Georgie, and do not worry, my dear; I promise you that I will," Raymore assured his cousin gently.
"I hope now you are not thinking of breaking a bone or two," Lord Matlock remarked sardonically.
"Oh, I never think of such crude methods." Raymore grinned.
"Let us hear about your sophisticated method, then," Colonel Fitzwilliam challenged his brother.
"Just now Major Bramwell said that Manwaring plays deep, and it is true. Only last week, he lost nearly twenty thousand pounds to Bolton, who was planning to wait patiently for a while for its return. But I can always ask him to get impatient immediately."
"And Manwaring will have no choice then but to rusticate until he lays his hand on at least some of the money."
"Exactly, Darcy." The viscount gave his cousin a beatific smile.
"And while I am not sure if we can negatively influence anyone in Manwaring's set, some of the old geezers at White's and Boodle's could be influenced to start disapproving tales about his immoral conduct. Whatever gossip is generated can only help Miss Preston."
"That is so clever of you, Sebastian!" Georgiana exclaimed joyfully.
"That is the thing, little one; you might think your brother is the cleverest of us all, but we are not far behind," Raymore teased her in response.
"Oh, I think all of you are very clever," Georgiana replied loyally.
Just then, a maid and a footman came into the parlour with tea and cakes, and the talk turned to general topics.
~§§§~
Going against the usual trend, Lady Matlock decided to keep the waltz as the opening dance of the ball. One reason was that Fitzwilliam had requested her to do so. With all the men in the countess's family having reserved dances with Elizabeth, Darcy had been able to secure only the first and last dances with his wife, and he wanted the first dance with her to be special. The second reason was for effect—she had a notion that most of the naysayers and doubters would fall silent when they saw the bride and the groom together and observed their feelings—the groom's, at least, were as plain as a pikestaff.
Now, as she sat observing Fitzwilliam twirling Elizabeth in his arms, she was confident that her plan would work. Together, they looked stunning. The pink gown embellished with silver threads that she had chosen for Elizabeth turned her into a ravishingly beautiful woman.
Strangely, they were dancing together in complete silence. She understood why when her nephew turned to face her with the next spin. Fitzwilliam's eyes were doing the talking for him, very eloquently!
Suddenly, she heard a gasp from nearby and turned her face towards Lady Lancaster, sitting to her left. That lady's wide eyes were also glued on Elizabeth and Darcy, and she was fanning herself vigorously.
"So, Penny, would you like to quote Chaucer some more?" Lady Matlock asked in amusement.
For a moment Penelope Wyndham appeared sheepish, then suddenly she grinned. "I was right, was I not? From where I sit, I can very easily see that Darcy is blinded with love," she said, then added sotto voce, "and also somewhat with lust!"
Now it was Lady Matlock's turn to gasp. "Really, Penny!" she exclaimed disapprovingly, but her friend only laughed.
"I was a little resentful even when I came for tea at your house that day, Susan, but no longer," the Duchess of Avon, sitting to Lady Matlock's right, remarked suddenly.
"I can understand your resentment, Katherine."
"Hmm, I did feel bad for my Serena, but the fact is Darcy never promised her anything, and if the way he is looking at his wife is anything to go by, he never had any strong feelings for my daughter. So, I suppose, everything happened for the good," the duchess said philosophically.
"Hmm." Lady Matlock was pleased at that confession, and she should have been extremely happy at the fruition of all her efforts, but then her gaze found her eldest daughter dancing the waltz with her husband. The unhappiness on her face pierced Susan Fitzwilliam's heart. If only wishes were horses… she mumbled to herself wistfully.
~§§§~
The kindness done to Sophia Preston served the Darcys rather well. Miss Preston's arrival at the ball with her aunt became a cause for much discussion and gossip. Except for the first dance, when the guests were forced to acknowledge that Mr Darcy of Pemberley had gone ahead and done the unthinkable—he had married imprudently and for love—the majority lost interest in him and his bride. Even in his affair of the heart, he had been staid and boring. While the bride had no connections or fortune to speak of, as the daughter of a country squire she was certainly respectable.
Depending on their own inclinations, the guests either pitied him or envied him and were more than ready to move on to a more interesting story—what did Miss Preston's presence in Lady Matlock's ball actually mean? Until yesterday, the girl was shunned by everyone of consequence, and today she had an invitation to one of the most sought-after balls in the ton. Not only that, the Earl, the Viscount, and Mr Darcy all stood up with her!
Did the Fitzwilliams and the Darcys know something about the affair that no one else did? It was very much possible because Georgiana Darcy and the Preston girl were supposedly together at some seminary. In any case, Mr Manwaring was rather wild; perhaps one needed to be cautious while believing everything he said as gospel truth!
On and on, the gossip went with truth, half-truths, and suppositions rubbing shoulders with each other, and Elizabeth and Darcy played second fiddle at their own wedding ball. But Fitzwilliam Darcy was correct in one thing: the ton's curiosity about his sudden marriage had indeed become a thing of the past. Except for those like Letitia Hawkins, who had a personal interest in the matter, the beau monde no longer considered the saga of Mr Darcy's sudden marriage interesting enough.
~§§§~
Based on her experiences, Elizabeth could divide the ball into two distinct time periods: before and after the supper. Before the supper, everything was wonderful, especially her first dance with Mr Darcy.
Until today, she had waltzed either with her sisters or with the elderly dance instructor, whom their father had hired after much cajoling to teach them that one dance from Germany. Now that she had waltzed with a young, personable gentleman—her husband—for the first time, she understood why it was considered a scandalous dance form. The closeness, one of his hands on her waist and one of hers on his shoulder, all together had the most peculiar effect on her heartbeats. It did not help that all through the set, Mr Darcy continued to gaze at her with those intense golden eyes in complete silence. (And for heaven's sake why were his eyes that peculiar shade, for she would have wagered he was not annoyed in the least.) It was a good thing that he did not expect her to talk because she was not sure she would have been able to hold a lucid conversation if he did.
When Mr Darcy relinquished her, Lord Matlock led her into the second dance, followed by the Viscount, Lord Stanhope, and finally Colonel Fitzwilliam for the supper set. The fact that all her partners were competent dancers was a bonus.
She was pleased to see that Miss Preston had indeed accepted Lady Matlock's invitation, and Mr Manwaring was conveniently absent. Once Sophia Preston was seen dancing with the Earl of Matlock and Mr Darcy, the other guests soon followed suit, and Elizabeth was certain that the supposedly ruined girl did not sit out even a single set.
One peculiar incident just before the supper-set reminded Elizabeth of Emmaline's fascination with the good major. While waiting for Colonel Fitzwilliam to come and claim his dance, she was chatting with Emmaline and Major Bramwell. Emmaline was expressing her satisfaction with their scheme to rehabilitate Miss Preston when the major stated his intention to stand up with her for the upcoming dance. At the same time, a foppish gentleman came to request Emmaline's hand for the same set. She turned down his request by claiming that she was already engaged for the set by Major Bramwell! Once the disappointed gentleman had departed, she prettily begged the Major's pardon for her lie and shifted the blame on the rejected contender's tendency to step on the toes of his partners.
Elizabeth could not tell whether Major Bramwell believed her or not, as Colonel Fitzwilliam came to claim his partner just then. When she saw the other two dancing alongside her and Colonel Fitzwilliam, it became clear that the major had at least pretended to accept Emmaline's explanation. For herself, Elizabeth could not decide if Emmaline had lied because of the stated reason or because she did not want Major Bramwell to dance with Miss Preston.
Mr Darcy had offered Georgiana the choice to dance with her cousins and her brother. She had, however, decided to sit with the chaperons and observe the festivities. Whenever Elizabeth met her in between dances, she appeared to be enjoying herself, just like Elizabeth.
After the supper, however, things seemed to spiral out of control, at least for Elizabeth. She would never know if the foppish gentleman whom Emmaline accused of stepping on toes actually did so, but Mr Campbell, who partnered her for the set immediately after supper, indeed stepped on his partner's toes repeatedly. By the time the set came to an end, all Elizabeth wanted was to sit down and rest her hurting feet. She did so for the next two sets on Georgiana's side.
Major Bramwell had engaged Elizabeth for the penultimate dance. While the set was being formed, she was shocked to see Mr Darcy lead a smiling Lady Serena to the dance floor.
I saw him dance with Miss Preston a little while ago, but I was pleased at the time; then why not now? she asked herself and was honest enough to admit the reason.
Because at one time, he was meant to marry Lady Serena, and because she is the extremely beautiful and accomplished daughter of a duke!
Before she could regain her equilibrium, she suffered another upset. As the dance progressed, she could see Mr Darcy and Lady Serena conversing continuously, and once she even saw him laugh! And this was the man who had not said a single word to his own wife as they waltzed, she thought furiously, conveniently forgetting how much his silent, heated gaze had thrilled her or that she herself had not wanted conversation at the time.
It took her a while to grasp that this piercing, unhappy feeling, and the uncharacteristic vexation she was experiencing were jealousy, because that was one emotion she had rarely felt before. On the other hand, the reason for her jealousy was not that difficult to work out. Rather, it struck her like a flash of lightning—she had fallen in love with her husband!
What she had considered liking mixed with attraction was, in actuality, love—deep, irrevocable, and, yes, irrational. She knew that it was the family, not her husband, that wanted the connection with Lady Serena. Still, she seethed every time he talked to her or smiled at her.
She broke out of her reverie when she heard Major Bramwell asking in a concerned voice, "You do not look very well, Mrs Darcy. Would you like to sit? Shall I take you to a chair?"
"No... no, I am well. Please let us continue." One thing she absolutely did not want was to become a spectacle at her own wedding ball!
Although he looked doubtful, the major did not press her. When he finally escorted her back from the dance floor, he led her to the nearest empty chair. I will procure you a glass of wine, Mrs Darcy. You will feel better once you have had it," he said, hurrying away.
Elizabeth barely listened to him. What shall I do? Should I tell him? Now? she thought even as she unconsciously rose from the chair and took a step towards her husband, who now stood talking to Viscount Raymore.
However, before she could ponder this most important question, someone called out to her.
"Mrs Darcy?"
Elizabeth turned her head and found herself face-to-face with Lady Lancaster. Two other women accompanied her, one of whom, regrettably, was the murderous-looking lady from the soirée —Letitia Hawkins.
Bracing herself for another bout of cutting sarcasm, Elizabeth curtseyed to Lady Lancaster. She was pleasantly surprised to receive a gracious nod and a smile of genuine warmth in return.
When Lady Lancaster realised that Elizabeth had not been introduced to her companions, she took it upon herself to rectify the lack, very unnecessarily, in Elizabeth's opinion. Although she finally received confirmation that the angry-looking female was indeed Lady Stalbridge. Elizabeth also discovered that the other dark-haired, nondescript woman was Mrs Amarylis Worthing.
Once the greetings had been exchanged, Lady Lancaster turned to Elizabeth and said, "I think I owe you an apology, my dear Mrs Darcy, for the rude manner in which I treated you when we first met."
Lady Lancaster was being absolutely and unexpectedly gracious, especially given her relationship with Lady Serena, and Elizabeth found she could not do anything else but return the favour.
"There is no need to apologise, my lady." Elizabeth smiled at the woman before adding, "Especially as I cannot disagree with the underlying premise of your contention at the time, love often can render blind the afflicted."
Before Lady Lancaster could respond, Letitia Hawkins barged into the conversation. "How strange that you should mention blindness, Mrs Darcy! Only a few moments ago, Amarylis and I were joking that Mr Darcy must have been struck by blindness to pick you as his bride when he might have chosen Lady Serena." Letitia Hawkins paused to smile at Lady Lancaster, who stared back at her coldly.
Undeterred and consumed by dislike, Letitia ploughed ahead. "And we wondered if something happened before your marriage that necessitated it."
Elizabeth had never imagined that someone could be vile and audacious enough to say such things to her face, consequently, she had no idea how to respond. Even as she stared in stunned dismay at the vicious woman, a cold voice came from behind her.
"I can very well imagine that, Lady Stalbridge, people often judge others by their own standards."
Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth turned to look at her husband in gratified surprise. Lady Lancaster chuckled openly, while Letitia Hawkins went an angry red. Mrs Worthing just looked scared.
"And since you were so kind as to worry about my reasons for marrying Elizabeth, let me return the kindness and not leave you in suspense. Beauty alone has never interested me, but I suppose you already know that." Darcy paused to smile coldly at the woman, while this time Lady Lancaster hurriedly turned her chuckle into a cough.
"I married Elizabeth because she not only has a beautiful face but also the most beautiful soul. She is kind and considerate and has an unexceptionable wit that makes me laugh." Darcy took hold of Elizabeth's hand and raised it to his lips. He was so convincing that even Elizabeth, who knew why they had married, nearly believed him.
It appeared that Darcy was not done humiliating the woman who had dared to insult his wife. "You might be puzzled at my reasons, and I can understand that. One rarely appreciates what one does not have, but I hope you will take my word for it." He smiled and bowed to the three women.
"And now, if you ladies would excuse us, my wife promised me this dance," he said, leading Elizabeth away.
~§§§~
As they walked away from the ladies, Elizabeth noticed that the set formation had already begun for the last dance of the night. However, with her emotions all over the place, she no longer felt like dancing. Moreover, she wanted to make sense of the shocking discovery she had just made about her feelings for her husband.
"Mr Darcy?"
"Yes?"
"May we sit this one out?" she asked, then added, by way of explanation, "I-I do not want to be in this room at present."
"Of course, Elizabeth. I understand perfectly. In fact, I know just where we should go and what exactly we should do." Just for a moment, mischief glinted in his eyes before he started leading her to one of the exits to the ballroom.
A few minutes later, they were inside the very same billiards room where Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had that very revealing conversation the first time Elizabeth had visited Matlock House. She wondered what they were doing there.
Although she had once seen the game being played in the home of a friend of her uncle Gardiner, she did not remember much about it.
"Are we going to play billiards? If so, I must tell you that I have never played the game and know next to nothing about it. In fact, it is only the second time I am looking at a billiards table," Elizabeth clarified even as she took in the ambience of the room.
A wooden table with a green covering was placed near one of the large windows in the room. At this time of the day, the curtains were drawn, but if the game was played during the daytime, the natural light from the window would definitely aid the players.
"Yes, we are going to play the game, but with our own set of rules instead of the standard rules of the game."
"Oh? Would you care to elaborate, Mr Darcy?" she asked curiously.
"Wait, let me bring the cue and the balls, and then I will explain in detail." Darcy made his way towards a cupboard placed in one corner of the room. A few moments later, he was back with a wooden box and a cue. He took out three balls from the box and placed them on the table. Two were identical whites, and the third was a dark, shiny red. He kept the red one in the centre and dropped the two white ones on the table without much care.
"So, the red one here is the boorish Lady Stalbridge."
"Oh!" Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise at the suggestion, then she gave a gurgle of laughter, "How apt, the good lady is equally flashy, if not more."
Darcy grinned in response. "I could not agree with you more, Elizabeth."
"Uh… this does not seem to be the first time you are playing this special type of game."
"Oh, no, it is quite popular with the Fitzwilliam and Darcy cousins," he said with a wry twist to his lips. "Richard devised it when we were adolescents. Many times in our lives, the bounds of civility and decency prevent us from responding to others in the manner they deserve, causing justifiable frustration. This game here is a harmless way of venting spleen, and today it will be called 'Disposing off the shrew'."
Elizabeth's lips twitched at the lovely name. "This time, I could not agree with you more. Please explain the rules of the game so that we can begin at the earliest."
Darcy gave her a quick grin before explaining, "Now, this cue is the vehicle, and that white ball is the ticket to the place of your choice."
Confusion was writ large on Elizabeth's countenance. "I am sorry…"
"Just a moment longer, Elizabeth, and all will be clear. Do you see the pocket in each corner of the table?"
"Yes."
"So, these pockets are the destinations where you would like to send Lady S on this carriage I have with me," he waved the cue as he spoke.
"Ah, now I understand."
"Good. Now that you have the choice, where would you like her to be sent first?"
"To a seminary to learn some manners and a little bit of decency."
Darcy chuckled at the pat answer. "Good choice, Elizabeth. Tell me, which pocket is to be the Select Seminary for Spiteful Shrews?"
Elizabeth giggled, then pointed towards one of the pockets on the opposite side. "Hmm. Let us see if we succeed," Darcy muttered as he moved a little to the left and placed his cue in alignment with one of the white balls. After a few adjustments to his stance and the cue, he gently tapped the white ball with it.
She watched with bated breath as the white ball hit the padded table rail and then ricocheted from there, only to collide gently with Lady S, who immediately began her journey towards her destination. The red ball dawdled and dithered, and for a moment, Elizabeth was afraid that it would be as contrary as its namesake. However, it appeared that Mr Darcy knew what he was doing, because in the end, it entered the gates of the select seminary and disappeared from view.
Elizabeth clapped enthusiastically. "That was sublime, Mr Darcy."
"I am glad to have been of service, Elizabeth. So, where is our friend travelling next?"
"To a kitchen to bake some humble pie," Elizabeth replied, pointing to the pocket where she wanted the red ball.
"Oh yes, she needs a big box of those." He nodded, then proceeded to send the red ball to the desired pocket with great precision.
He bowed theatrically at her lavish praise, then asked, "Would you like to give it a try?"
"Yes, I would." Elizabeth eagerly stretched her hand for the cue.
"So, where does she travel now?" She raised her brow as she placed the cue on the table, exactly as she had seen him do.
"To Jericho? Or better still, the servant's privy in Stalbridge's estate in Scotland. And this is it." Darcy solemnly pointed to one of the pockets.
"What?" Elizabeth's mouth dropped open in astonishment. A moment later, she burst out laughing. "H-How r-rude" she said in a shaky voice once she had exerted some control over her amusement.
"I do not think so. That is exactly where disloyal, malicious people of her ilk belong."
There was something in his voice that made Elizabeth realise that he was in earnest. "Hmm. In any case, I accepted the challenge, so I will certainly give it a try." And she did try—to copy Mr Darcy as much as possible. However, she pushed the cue with such force that the white ball simply flew over the table and hit the curtain on the window opposite.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed, then burst out laughing all over again.
For a moment, Darcy stood watching his laughing wife with an indulgent smile on his face, then objected, "You used too much force, Elizabeth. Here, let me show you how it is done."
He returned the white ball to the table and came to stand behind her. The next instant, Elizabeth found herself engulfed in a warm, fragrant embrace, with his right hand on top of hers holding the cue, and his left placed next to hers on the table.
"See here, place your hand on the cue at this point, and push it gently—just like this," he murmured huskily in her ear as he demonstrated.
The warmth of his body, the heady scent of sandalwood, and his hot breath in her ear were such pleasurable distractions that Elizabeth failed to hear anything of what he was saying. Although her eyes absentmindedly traced the path Lady S took to arrive at the servant's privy, all her mind was capable of thinking was that if she turned her face just a little to the right, she would be able to kiss his cheek, or perhaps even his lips. And heaven help her; she wanted to—with every fibre of her being.
And why not? After all, he is my husband—the man I love—and he asked me to tell him immediately if I felt something more for him than gratitude. What better way to tell him?
The urge was so strong that her face started to move towards his, of its own volition.
Lizzy! Her inner voice of caution stopped her immediately. Yes, you love him, but what about his feelings? You had given up on your dream of marrying for ardent love, but now fate has made it possible once again. But are you willing to be in a marriage of unequal affections?
There was only one answer to that question. She would have to find a way to make him fall in love with her. He had achieved the feat in a matter of mere weeks!
She closed her eyes and tried to bring her unruly senses under control.
Unbeknownst to her, Darcy's mind was dwelling on the very same thing as hers. From the moment he had seen her coming down the staircase in Darcy House that evening—a vision for sore eyes in her lovely pink gown, her lips curved up in the softest of smiles—he had been wanting to kiss her. During the waltz, it had been extremely difficult for him to stop himself from taking her to one of the curtained alcoves and kissing her for all he was worth. However, he desisted because he had promised to take things slowly and wait until she confessed to feeling something more than gratitude for him.
But now she was once again in his arms, soft, yielding, and appearing oh so comfortable, as if she truly belonged in them.
Surely one measly kiss after weeks of marriage could not be considered to be hurrying things along by any means! he told himself defiantly, then dropped a kiss on her right ear just to prove to himself that he was right. She shivered, then shifted slightly so that she was in his arms more securely.
Yes! he exulted, then lifted his hand to raise her face towards his.
At the same moment, the door to the billiards room sprang open, and both Raymore and Colonel Fitzwilliam sauntered in.
"Darcy! Did old Weatherby bore you also into running away from the ballroom?" Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed jovially.
It was the first time in his life that Fitzwilliam Darcy contemplated violence against his favourite cousin. Releasing a deep breath, he turned to face the colonel, and it was only then that the intruders became aware of Elizabeth's presence in the room.
"Oh!"
"We are extremely sorry; we did not…"
Both brothers began at the same time, but Elizabeth interrupted them with a quick laugh. If it appeared a trifle forced, everyone politely ignored the fact.
"Please do not be. Congratulate us instead, because we have just now successfully disposed of the shrew," she said as she pointed to the pocket with the cue in her hand.
"Let me guess, Letitia Hawkins?" Raymore asked dryly.
"Yes," Darcy replied shortly.
"And where did you make her end up?"
"We just now sent her to the servant's privy in Stalbridge's Scottish estate."
As the brothers burst out laughing, Elizabeth excused herself. "I believe it will do you all good to send Mr Weatherby to some exotic place. I will leave you to it then," she said, leaving the room with a quick courtesy.
The three men watched her walk away, and there was silence in the room until she was out of earshot. Then Colonel Fitzwilliam slapped Darcy on the back and apologised. "Sorry, old man, for spoiling the moment, but I am sure you will make up for it later."
For one mad moment, a frustrated Darcy wanted to yell at his cousin that he would not be making up for anything! The manner in which Elizabeth had scurried away without making eye contact worried him. He did not know if she had just been embarrassed by the interruption or had changed her mind about the intimacy, but he knew that he would need to tread carefully.
However, he could not confess the true state of affairs to anyone, least of all his cousins. "Yes, of course," he replied, somehow forcing himself to smile.
He would have been much happier had he known that, right at that moment, his wife was plotting ways to make him fall in love with her.
Like The Gentleman He Was
Copyright © 2024 by S. Neha
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