Mr. Darcy's Forbidden Love-kindle (43 page)

Fishing in the small case he was carrying, he handed a copy to her as she settled in a chair. He remained standing. Every so often, she would grunt or make some other sound to indicate her approval or disapproval with what she read. Finally concluding, she tossed the paper on a nearby table.

“I hope the profit will convince my nephew to put off further inspection when he learns Lowell is dead. By then, I hope he will be more disturbed by my niece’s marriage than business dealings.”

“I imagine he already feels he has no say on the joint venture, what with Mrs. Darcy always voting with you.” Immediately the solicitor knew he had said the wrong thing.

“Mr. Ferguson, you are treading on dangerous ground. Perhaps it is time for you to return to London and present a copy of this report to my nephew.”

Shakily reaching for his hat which sat in the chair next to him, he responded, “Yes. I would like to return home before dark.”

Lady Catherine stood, and without another word, exited the room. Relieved, Ferguson hurried towards the front door of Rosings, grateful that he had not given the butler his hat or coat. There were no servants in sight, and he did not wish to wait for either item in order to leave. Clearing the door as quickly as possible, he asked a footman outside to send for his coach and waited on the portico for it to appear.

As once more his coach passed through the imposing gates of Rosings, Mr. Ferguson breathed an audible sigh of relief. He had once again met with the most dangerous woman of his acquaintance and lived to speak of it. He was fortunate indeed.

~~~*~~~

Meryton
Longbourn
The Kitchen

“Jane!” Mrs. Bennet screeched as she entered the front door of Longbourn following her morning walk to Meryton. The smell of bread baking wafted through the rooms, as today was the day Mrs. Hill made all the bread for the week. Consequently, her stomach began to grumble in anticipation of a slice as she divested herself of her bonnet and shawl.

Meanwhile, Jane Bennet took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she knew would come next. She had had no trouble hearing the greeting all the way in the far corner of the kitchen where she had gone to collect her baskets. Seeing Mrs. Hill stop her chores to glance her way, she gave the long-time servant a wan smile.

“I am here, Mama,” she answered dutifully. The elderly servant just shook her head sympathetically and resumed kneading her bread dough.

Sweeping into the room, Fanny Bennet began immediately, “Hill, I cannot wait to have a piece of your delicious bread with…” Abruptly she stopped and eyed her oldest and most prized daughter carefully. “What is that you are wearing?”

Jane looked down at the faded blue muslin with several patches along the hem. The gown was serviceable and would do for gathering herbs as she had planned. Before she could explain her choice of clothes, however, her mother was expounding on the art of keeping a fiancé as she simultaneously pulled her prize towards the hallway.

“Oh, no, no, no! You should never be seen in anything this old and worn. Heaven forbid Mr. Bingley should return unannounced and see you in this old thing! Without a doubt, he would think twice about his proposal, and what do you think his sisters would do?” She began pushing her towards the main staircase. “They are such fine ladies that they would be appalled to be related to you and who could blame them.”

“But, Mama, this old gown is what I wear for—”

Mrs. Bennet grabbed Jane’s shoulders and turned her so that they were eye to eye. “Jane, I shall not say this again. Go and change your clothes and then hand me this gown. I shall have Hill burn it.”

Before Jane could reply, she found herself being twirled back around to face the stairs. “And come down as soon as you are presentable. I checked the post in Meryton, and there was a letter from your Aunt Gardiner. I hid it from Kitty and Lydia, as I did not want them begging to accompany us to London when we purchase your wedding clothes. In fact, I suggested they visit Maria Lucas so that we could have time alone to make our plans.”

Jane was too upset to reply and so she did as she was instructed. She was not about to argue with her mother regarding a gown, sure that there would be more important things on which to stand firm later. However, she wondered about the letter. Quickly donning a better gown with a maid’s help, Jane was seated across from her mother at the small table in the parlour in only a short while. She sat in silence as Mrs. Bennet seemed to be re-reading the missive. Finally, she could stand it no more.

“Mama? What does Aunt Gardiner have to say? Does she mention Lizzy?”

“Your aunt’s sister has had a difficult delivery, and that has taken Madeline away from London for longer than she had anticipated. However, she is beginning to rally now, and Madeline can see the end of her stay. We were just fortunate that Lady Holmes took Lizzy under her protection and allowed her to travel to Ramsgate with Lady Wilkens.” All the while she had been studying the paper, but at this point she met Jane’s eyes. “I was upset with your aunt when I first realised that she would not be there to show Lizzy about Town, but it has turned out to our advantage. At present, your sister has caught the eye of a very wealthy man and has become the particular friend of his sister.”

Jane showed no emotion, feigning no knowledge of this news. By now she was certain that Lizzy was not enamoured of John Wilkens or his money and would never accept him—certain because of the expresses she received in the morning whilst her mother and sisters were off to Meryton. Receiving these letters without detection had proved invaluable in keeping Lizzy’s secret, and Jane was thankful that Lady Holmes had allowed the use of the express rider while her sister resided there. Nonetheless, the expresses had stopped once Lizzy began the trip to Gatesbridge and Jane was beginning to worry. Wishing not to dwell on what might happen whilst her sister was out of touch, she changed the subject, mentioning something dear to her mother’s heart.

“Will Aunt be back in London soon?”

“Oh yes! She assures me that she will return in one week and will send word so that you and I may hurry there to begin planning your trousseau.” Mrs. Bennet’s expression resembled a spider eyeing a fly. “Perhaps, if we are fortunate, there shall be two orders to place by then.”

“Mama, I am quite certain that Lizzy would want to be well acquainted with any man before they married, and she is not even being courted as far as I have heard.”

“Nonsense! The time to get to know any man is
after
you marry. Beforehand, all you need to know is his income and the amount of your pin money.”

“MOTHER!”

“It is true. One man is very much like another. They enjoy horses, hunting, being around other men, good food and plenty of time in their wife’s bed. At least until she becomes with child—then they have no use for her.”

“You cannot classify every man that way. Some are decent, like my Mr. Bingley. He will love and cherish me, of that I am certain.”

“That is what you think, but he will change down the road. They all do. The secret is to develop your own life apart from him and find happiness where you may. That is what I had to do.”

Jane huffed as she stood. “I intend to be a helpmeet to my husband and his best friend. We shall raise our children in an atmosphere of love and respect, nothing less.”

Mrs. Bennet waved a hand in frustration. “You were always too optimistic, Jane. Life is never a bed of roses. Along with the roses come the thorns. You shall see.”

“No, it is you who shall see, Mother. Not all people marry for the wrong reasons or the wrong people. Some people love one another and have happy marriages.”

With that Jane stalked from the room, her head held high. Mrs. Bennet shook her head in resignation as she watched her daughter walk away.

You shall learn, my poor, naive girl. You shall learn just as Lizzy will. You and she were always too high-minded to listen to me.

~~~*~~~

Ramsgate
Gatesbridge Manor
Wilkens’ Study

Navigating the various hallways leading to her brother John’s study, Alfreda’s heart beat furiously. The three of them—she, John and Elizabeth—were supposed to leave shortly for a trip to Town, but this last minute summons from her brother had dashed any hopes she had for a pleasant outing. Being sent for by him almost always meant trouble, and as she travelled along the corridor, she began to speculate on which of his personalities would be there to greet her. Would it be the kind and conciliatory brother of her childhood who was civil when he needed her help, or would she be met by the irate despot who surfaced most often of late?

Possible developments ran through her mind as she walked. Could he have possibly discovered her meeting with David at their aunt’s dinner party? If so, would he lock her in her rooms as he had done when David asked to court her last year? How she wished David had not been called back to duty! Oh if he were still here to protect and comfort her. Her mind raced, and she found that she could not think logically. At last, standing before the dreaded door, there was no alternative but to face him without any strategy. Taking a deep breath, she knocked.

A familiar voice called out, “Come,” he said in a stoic voice devoid of feeling.

Opening the door cautiously, Alfreda stepped just inside and closed it without making a sound.  John appeared to be reading something and did not acknowledge her presence until he had finished entirely. Then, throwing the paper aside, he motioned for her to sit in the chair positioned in front of the desk. Moving across the familiar space, Alfreda recalled the times their father had been the one sitting behind the elaborately carved oak desk, and despite her determination to show no emotion, her eyes filled with tears. When he had been alive, the rich woods and muted colours of this study had exuded warmth and security; whereas now, these attributes seemed cold and impersonal. With the passing of her father, she had learned that a room—nay, an entire house—could adopt the personality of its owner, for good or ill. Taking a seat before the current master of Gatesbridge, Alfreda folded her hands in her lap and stared at her feet.

“I have a request of you.” Alfreda’s eyes came up to meet his. His voice was emotionless. “I want you to stay close to Miss Bennet today and see that she does not embarrass me.”

“I do not think Eliz—Miss Bennet is capable of embarrassing you. She is a lady.”

“Evidently you are not very observant. She is also a very stubborn and opinionated woman, wilful attributes that I plan to curb once we are married, but for now, we must both guard her carefully. What she did at our aunt’s dinner party was appalling, and it cannot happen again. My future wife should be above reproach.”

Alfreda searched her memory but could think of nothing that Elizabeth had done to bring shame on him or their family. Wilkens must have judged from her quizzical brow that she was struggling to recall.

“There were numerous lapses in protocol, but if you will remember, I had to intervene when she engaged in a long conversation with Mr. Chandler after the entertainment ended.” Wilkens stood and faced the cabinet that sat behind his desk. Pouring himself a glass of brandy he took a swallow, unaware of the expression of complete unbelief on his sister’s face. “Several of my colleagues were eyeing her warily, and ultimately, I had to escort her into another room to end their little
tète
-a
-tète
. Why our aunt would invite that man to such an impressive occasion is a mystery to me. He has no connections to speak of and nothing but a crumbling estate now that he has sold practically everything he owns to pay his creditors.”

Alfreda pictured the handsome man in her mind’s eye. She was certain that his fair countenance was one reason her brother had been irritated with his conversation with Miss Bennet. “Mr. Chandler’s father was Uncle Joseph’s closest friend, and he has continued to support our aunt. She often mentions his visits to me, saying he is one of a few friends that are genuinely concerned for her wellbeing.”

Wilkens studied his sister, apparently not happy with the challenge in her eyes or her tone of voice. “Humph! His father may have been a friend, but Chandler is nothing but a ne'er-do-well and gambler who hangs on to our aunt in order to associate with a society than he can no longer access on his own.”

Alfreda continued to object. “Aunt said it was not he who gambled away his inheritance, but his late father. And she championed the son for paying his father’s debts after he died.”

Wilkens slammed his glass down on the oak desk sending the contents splashing across the polished surface and a few papers. Resting the fingers of both hands on the smooth top, he leaned across the desk menacingly. “Do not argue with me! I know what of I speak! He is of no consequence, do you hear!”

Silently chastising herself for arguing with him, Alfreda said quietly, “Yes…I heard you.”

Pleased, he continued his line of reasoning. “Now, as I was saying, this is likely the last time Miss Bennet shall be in public before we return to London, and I cannot allow her to do anything, such as conversing with the lower classes, that might cast a negative light on me in Ramsgate. Much is riding on my ability to induce the upper echelons of society to invest in the venture that my associates and I have designed—an entirely new area of town featuring a luxury hotel, coffee houses, clubs and shops. Suffice it to say that we foresee Ramsgate overtaking London as the most important city in England. After all, we have the seaport to our advantage.”

“What could Elizabeth possibly do to hurt your venture?”

“Must I explain everything? The men I must impress will only trust their fortunes to those that are their equals in society, and they must believe my future wife will be among their number. From this point forward, Miss Bennet should be seen and not heard. Once I convince the right men to begin construction of hotels and shops on our tract, I shall be so wealthy that no one will be able to touch me.”