Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility (5 page)

Yet Georgiana's entourage had found their way to the town-house this
afternoon, while Mr. Dashwood had not. And Elizabeth could not help but reflect
on why.

She sighed. "The rest of the cards are for Georgiana."

Darcy, who waited for a servant to bring his greatcoat, picked up the
stack of cards left for Georgiana and shuffled through them.

"Do any of those names meet your approval?" Elizabeth asked.

He frowned at two cards. "Mr. Sutton and Sir Harvey are ridiculous
coxcombs." He tossed their cards aside and looked at the next. "St.
Germain is a hothead - he has been in two duels this year alone." The next
card also fell to the pile. "Wybourn drinks too much."

Dairy's man appeared with his coat. She took the remaining cards from
her husband while he slipped his arms into its sleeves. "Sir Reginald
Pemngdale. Who is he?"

"A widower with seven children looking for a third wife."

"So much for him." She moved to the next. "Lord Tyndale
seemed nice."

"He is indeed quite pleasant. He is also up to his neckcloth in
debt."

"Lord Highcroft?"

"A notorious rake."

"Lord Ashton?"

"A worse rake."

"What about Mr. Fillmore?"

"Too old."

"Mr. Sinclair?"

"Too young."

"The Marquess of Avonbury?"

"I am told he snores."

"Darcy! Can any gentleman who wants to court your sister possibly
win your approbation?"

"No."

Although she detected a flash of humor in his eye as he made the declaration,
she knew he only half jested. Any suitor of Georgiana's would have to prove
himself a man of flawless
character, spotless reputation, and substantial
fortune just to win permission to cross their threshold.

Darcy took his hat from the valet, who then disappeared as discreetly as
he'd arrived. She handed the cards back to her husband, who pocketed them.

"Are you even going to show those cards to Georgiana?" she
asked.

"Yes. She will want something to read after I lock her in the tower
you seem to think I am building."

"So that is why you agreed to a London season for Kitty - so that
you could dispatch masons to Pemberley in our absence."

"You have found me out. They are constructing a turret with a
winding, rickety stair as we speak."

The repartee softened her mood, and she allowed a smile to reach her
lips. "Will the moat be finished by the time we return?"

"It is under way. I am having difficulty, however, locating a troll
to guard the entrance."

"I thought you would entrust that duty to no one but yourself."

"They must pass by me to reach the troll."

"Then he will soon become a very lazy troll, for he shall have
nothing to do."

The sound of a carriage pulling up indicated that Darcy's driver waited.
Darcy bade her farewell and started to go, but turned round before he reached
the door.

"Do you truly believe I am unreasonable concerning Georgiana?"

She paused a moment before replying. "I believe you will not allow
her to settle for anything less than a man whose conduct and sense of honor
equal your own, and I admire your determination to protect your sister from choosing
poorly." She walked to him, to better hold his gaze. "I hope, however,
that when the time comes, you will allow her to have a voice in the matter of
her own marriage."

"Of course I shall."

She heard restless footsteps above - no doubt Kitty, crossing to the
front window yet again only to discover that the carriage below belonged to the
Darcys, not to Mr. Dashwood. In a way, Kitty kept watch from her own tower.

"Will you hold Kitty's suitors to the same standards?" she
asked.

"Your father's authority supersedes mine in that matter, but I hope
you know I will guard her interests as vigilantly as if she were my own sister."

"I do know." She looked toward the door, wishing a caller for
Kitty would suddenly materialize on the opposite side of it. "I only hope
she will have someone for you to be vigilant
about."

"I thought you expected Mr. Dashwood to call?"

"Last night I was certain of it. He seemed so sincere in his
attentions, even after he found out Kitty was not Georgiana. But each hour's
delay makes me fear that either his intentions were never as serious as he led
Kitty to hope, or - "

"Or that in the bright light of morning, he more fully considered
the implications
oi
marrying a young lady with no fortune."

"Any sensible man would. You did."

She knew Darcy had weighed his love for her against the financial and
social benefits of marrying more advantageously. She had no fortune, no title,
no connections; in fact, in wedding her he had allied himself with a family of
compromised reputation following her sister's elopement. The very notion of an
engagement between them had brought the wrath of his aunt, Lady Catherine de
Bourgh, down upon them both.

"Yet despite worldly considerations, I chose you."

That he, whose every action was dictated by reason, had done so remained
a source of wonder to Elizabeth. "Not every man has the ability or the
willingness to disregard all that you did."

"If Mr. Dashwood cannot, then his absence today is for the
best.
Better he lets reason cool his romantic impulses now than rue them later."

Had Darcy ever regretted his decision? She was not a vain, insecure
girl, but neither was she insensible of the sacrifices he'd made on her behalf.
She busied herself in straightening his lapels. "Marry in haste, repent in
leisure?" She attempted to adopt a light tone, but her voice sounded
unnaturally high to her ears.

"Mrs. Darcy, what I feel for you in my leisure hours strays far
indeed from repentance."

After a parting kiss, Darcy left for his appointment. Elizabeth went to
the drawing room, where she found Kitty hovering by the window. In constant
anticipation of Mr. Dashwood's arrival, she had turned down the opportunity to
join Georgiana shopping in Bond Street, or do anything else that would take her
out of the house. She had instead spent the day fluttering aimlessly from one
room to the next, unable to focus on a single occupation for more than a few
minutes. If Mr. Dashwood did not call soon, she would surely drive Elizabeth to
distraction.

"Kitty, do sit down. Watching the street will not make him come."

Kitty reluctantly perched on the edge of the sofa, where she twisted a
button on her skirt until Elizabeth thought it would fall off. "He said he
would call. What can be keeping him?"

The sound of a hackney coach pulling up signaled the arrival of a visitor.
Kitty rushed to the window.

"Oh! It is only that odd scholar fellow you know."

"Professor Randolph?"

"Yes, him. I needn't stay, Lizzy, must I?"

Elizabeth dismissed her, as interested in a private conversation with Julian
Randolph as Kitty was in granting one. She had not seen the archaeologist since
just before Christmas, when he'd helped the Darcys rescue the Bingley family
from a murderous houseguest. Randolph's professional knowledge of mysterious
antiquities had proven critical in apprehending the villain, who
had been
using a centuries-old artifact with unusual properties to enact his scheme.

From the safety of Pemberley, and now their London town-house, Elizabeth
sometimes still could not quite believe that the eerie events they'd
experienced at Netherfield had not been simply a midwinter night's dream
brought on by reading too many gothic novels. But she had only to pull out the
protective amulet Randolph had given her to remind herself that not everything
in this world - or the next - could be rationally explained. Darcy, on the
other hand, had gone back to dismissing the professor's supernatural studies as
nonsense almost as soon as they'd been proven otherwise. There was little room
in his world for things from beyond it. In logic he trusted.

She rose to greet her visitor. "Professor Randolph, what a lovely
surprise!"

"I heard you and Mr. Darcy were in town." He looked the same
as she remembered, from his slender build to the spectacles that had a habit of
sliding down his nose. He wore a new suit, a consequence, she presumed, of the
poor scholar having at last found steady employment. Like his other clothing,
the suit exhibited an unusual number of pockets. She'd seen him pull everything
from pocketknives to candles from his costume.

"How do you like your new post?" she asked. Under the
patronage of Darcy's friend Lord Chatfield, Professor Randolph had recently
secured a position as the British Museum's resident archaeologist.

"] could not be happier. I have just returned from-examining a
formation of standing stones in the North Country, and there is talk of sending
me to the Continent as soon as the war is over. I would love the opportunity to
return to Athens and Rome."

"Return? I know you came here from America, but I did not realize
you were so well traveled." Upon reflection, there was much she didn't
know about Professor Randolph.

"This would mark my third expedition to the sites of those ancient
civilizations."

She rang for tea. As they waited for the refreshments, he enquired after
her and Darcy. She reported that they'd enjoyed a quiet sojourn at Pemberley
since the archaeologist had last seen them.

"You appear happy," he said, "which I am glad to witness
after the troubling events that transpired right after your marriage. Do you
still have the amulet?"

"Indeed, yes. I would not part with such a generous present."
When she'd first met the professor, he'd carried a silver pocket-watch with
ancient protective symbols he'd specially commissioned engraved upon it. Following
their ordeal at Netherfield, he'd given it to her.

"Do you carry it on you?"

She felt a pang of conscience. "No," she confessed. "But
please don't think it goes unvalued. I keep it safely in a drawer. I am afraid
my husband does not care for the sight of it."

Randolph chuckled. "I am little surprised. He does not seem to be a
man who possesses much tolerance for things he does not himself believe in."

"Either that, or he prefers gold timepieces to silver." They
shared a smile. Then she added, "Mr. Darcy, like many people, trusts only
what he can observe with his own five senses."

"And you?"

The arrival of tea prevented immediate reply. She was more willing than
her husband to accept the inexplicable, to concede that science had limitations
and that sometimes the ability to see a thing had nothing to do with eyesight.
She had long relied on instinct in addition to reason when forming judgments
and making decisions. In her experience, an impression unsupported by objective
evidence could nevertheless be accurate. But she'd also seen some of her
impressions proven false in the end, and so hesitated to place all her faith in
them.

"I believe in intuition," she said when the servant withdrew, "but
I know it is not infallible."

"Many people - women especially - are perceptive," the
professor said. "But you seem unusually so. It may merely be that your acknowledgment
of the unknown makes you more aware of subtleties that
can
be observed
but that go unnoticed by those who do not look. In any event, don't be afraid
to trust your intuition. Or to carry the amulet, if it won't cause trouble with
Mr. Darcy. You never know when it might come in handy - if only to keep track
of the hour."

The sound of another carriage pulling up brought the breathless entrance
of Kitty a moment later.

"Lizzy, he is here!" Kitty stopped short upon realizing that
the archaeologist was still in the room.

"Miss Bennet." Randolph rose and bowed.

She made a hurried curtsy. "Lizzy, Mr. Dashwood climbs the stairs
even now!"

"Gracious, Kitty With you to announce all our callers today, I
should have given Mrs. Hale the day off."

The long-anticipated gentleman appeared at last in their drawing room.
He greeted Elizabeth warmly, then had eyes only for Kitty. He took her offered
hand. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Bennet. I would have come
sooner, but my mother summoned me to Harley Street this morning and has
occupied me all afternoon. I hastened here directly I concluded with her."

Kitty's smile suggested that she would have forgiven Mr. Dashwood a
detour to the moon, now that he was finally come. "Of course your mother
has a superior claim on your time." She went to the sofa, where he sat
down beside her. "I was so happily occupied in recalling our dances last
evening, I hardly noticed the hour."

Elizabeth refrained from observing that Kitty's serene reflections on
the previous evening's entertainment had nearly worn out the carpet. She instead
introduced Mr. Dashwood to
Professor Randolph. "Mr. Randolph is an
archaeologist with the British Museum," she said.