Excentryke's Musings

Rose and Lavender Water

Part the Tenth

Interlude II

As soon as the Netherfield Ball was over, Darcy sat Bingley down and declared, “You cannot mean to marry Jane Bennet.”

“Whyever not?” Bingley declared.  “She is really the most magnificent girl.”

“She may be the most magnificent girl,” Darcy told him, “but she does not care about you.  I watched her all evening.  She betrays no outward sign of particular affection.”

“Now here—” Bingley began, trying to sit up, but Darcy shared a look with Mrs. Hurst.

“I daresay Miss Jane Bennet is a sweet girl, but she is facing the fear of becoming an old maid.  She is one and twenty,” Mrs. Hurst told her brother calmly and rationally.  “Surely you heard Mrs. Bennet at dinner.  She practically ordered Miss Bennet to attach herself to you because of your five thousand pounds a year.”

Benedict looked up at this from where he was pouring a glass of port but said nothing.

“She is desperate to catch a husband and you are the best on offer.”

Bingley looked disgruntled.  “Do you really think this is so?  She is a fortune hunter?”

“Her interest in you is pecuniary.  You do not want such a woman as your wife,” Darcy told him, “and if you think about it, you are not in love with her.”

“What of your own good fortune, Darce?” Benedict asked, coming forward.  “I understand congratulations are in order.”

Bingley looked disgruntled. 

“Isabella has agreed to marry me,” he shared with the entire party.  Of course, Mr. Hurst had fallen asleep on a love seat from the exertion of the evening.  “I go to London to procure a special license, I shall marry her on Friday, and then I am taking my wife to Town for the Christmas season.  I would heartily recommend that everyone join me.”

“I shall go back to Aubrey Hall,” Benedict told him outright, “though I will happily stay for the wedding, my friend.”

“Why must we go to London?” Bingley asked, turning toward his friend.  “I see why you might want to abscond with your bride, but Caroline and Louisa and I might like to stay for some weeks.  Miss Mary Bennet’s wedding is in December, and would it not be the neighborly thing to stay and support her?”

“Bingley,” Darcy told him outright, “I would not leave you in the clutches of Jane Bennet without my supervision.  I left for Aubrey Hall while it was just an innocent flirtation and I return to find you practically at the altar.”

Bingley looked affronted.

“Surely it is not as bad as that,” Caroline protested.

“Surely it is as bad as that,” Darcy recriminated her.  “No, we shall all go to Town.  Surely Caroline and Louisa should like to see Georgiana.”

“Would you not bring her here?” Bingley asked.  “The countryside is so diverting.”

He shared a look with Benedict whom he had shared the indiscretion he had come upon earlier that evening involving Wickham, although he had not named the young lady who was involved.  “I would not bring Georgiana here for a fortune.”

Bingley deflated.  “You really think Jane Bennet is such a danger to me?”

“Yes, Bingley, yes, I do.”

He sighed.  “She is the loveliest girl.  She smiles like an angel.”

“There is much to occupy us in Town for the Little Season,” Caroline tried to cheer him up.  “The Theatre, for instance.  There will be balls.”

“None with Jane,” Bingley reminded her.

“That is just the sort of statement I am worried for,” Darcy told him.  “Perhaps you should come with me to London on the morrow.”

“We cannot leave all the ladies undefended,” Benedict reminded him, as he was to go to London on the morrow as well.  He looked over at Hurst who would be no help at all.  “We shall be back a day later.”

“Yes, you cannot think me so reckless to propose without you here in Hertfordshire,” Bingley assured him.

Darcy was not so sure.

That night Darcy lay awake, thinking of Isabella in her white dress, a white lace ribbon in her hair, her violet eyes bright and beautiful.  He had kissed her, and she had let him.  It was a simple, gentle sort of kiss, the kiss between a knight and his maiden love, but he would introduce her to the more pleasurable intricacies of marriage. 

The thought would not let him sleep, no matter how hard he tried, and in the early hours of the morning, he went to the billiard room.

Benedict was already there.  “Could not sleep?” he asked.

“No,” Darcy responded.  “The prospect of making Isabella my wife is too tempting for slumber.”

“I am afraid you shall not sleep all week then,” Benedict told him as he took down another cue and tossed it to Darcy.  “Shall we play a game?”

After they had holed several balls, Benedict asked carefully, “You want to remove Isabella from all her relations, then?  You never want her to see Jane Bennet again and if she becomes Mrs. Bingley, Isabella will have to see her.”

“If Jane becomes Mrs. Bingley, she will certainly correspond with Mrs. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and then I shall not be able to cut Isabella off from them.”

“You consider her family to be such a bad influence?  I know you have concerns about their connections.”

“I know her family to be such a bad influence,” he told Benedict outright.  “I caught Wickham with Elizabeth Bennet.  I must sweep Isabella away before her family can do anymore harm.”

“You could facilitate a marriage—”

“I would not tie that creature to me.”

Benedict lifted an eyebrow in question.

“I mean both Wickham and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.  No.  I shall marry Isabella.  She insists she still speak to her sister Mary, who is marrying my aunt’s cleric in Kent—”

Benedict made a face.

“Exactly my response, but the man is inheriting their father’s estate.  I shall mark the cleric for a bishopric, and I will confer on him the precautions he must take with his wife’s family if he wants any association with the Darcy’s of Pemberley.”

“I suppose it must be done,” Benedict agreed, “harsh though it is.”

“It is eminently more suitable than the alternative.”  (Benedict waited for him to speak) “—Leaving Isabella behind.”

“Ah,” Benedict agreed.  “I quite see your point.”

The game broke up in the small hours of the morning.  Darcy left to take his bath and just after breakfast he rode to Longbourn.

The servants informed him Mr. Bennet was still at breakfast when he arrived, but he was shown into a cramped study.  He had not long to wait.  Mr. Bennet was soon with him.

Claude Bennet was a man of middling height, white curls, deep blue eyes, and spectacles.  He was not an imposing man to be sure.  “I hear you want to marry my Isabella.  First Mr. Collins carts off Mary and now you intend to do the same with her twin.”

“With your permission.”

“With my permission,” Mr. Bennet parroted.  “I do not suppose I am in a position to deny you anything.  I will tell you what I told him.  Mrs. Bennet’s fortune was five thousand pounds and it is in the four percents.  Isabella is entitled to a quarter of it upon Mrs. Bennet’s death and fifty pounds per annum at my pleasure.”

It was worse than Darcy had thought though he had been prepared to take Isabella without a penny.

He bowed.  “I assure you none of that is necessary.”

“It is what you are entitled to.”

“Give it to Mary,” he suggested.  “She shall have more need of it than Isabella.”

Mr. Bennet looked up at him in shock.  “Are you sure about that?”

“Quite sure.”  He picked up his hat and set it on his head.  “I go direct to Town to procure a special license.  I have engaged the Longbourn Church for eleven o’clock on Friday.  I hope the bride can ready herself.”

“Why such haste?” Mr. Bennet asked in shock.

“Do you not think we have wasted so much time already?” he asked solemnly.  He took up his cane.  “I bid you good day.”

He left before Mr. Bennet could protest anymore. 

He did not stop to see Isabella, not wanting to see Elizabeth or Jane, and mounted his horse and heading for the post road.  Benedict met him at the turn off.

“All settled?” he asked.

“All settled.”

They rode all day and made good time and arrived at Darcy House just after luncheon.

Darcy had sent an express the night before so Georgiana was all readiness for them.  “Fitzwilliam,” she asked as soon as the servants left them, “what do you mean you are to marry on Friday?”

“Exactly what I said, sister,” he told her as he looked through his post for a letter from the Bishop of London, telling him of his appointment.  “I have met a young woman and we are to marry on Friday.”

“But today is Sunday!”

“Your powers of observation are as acute as always.”

Benedict came into the room.  “Miss Darcy,” he greeted with a bow.  “A pleasure to see you as always.”

“What can you tell me, Mr. Bridgerton, of the elusive woman my brother is to marry?”

“Her name is Miss Isabella Bennet and she is the last of four sisters.”

“Four sisters!” Georgiana exclaimed, but Darcy was not listening.  He had found the letter and was opening it.  It seemed he had an appointment for three that afternoon.

Georgiana’s voice filtered back into his consciousness.  “I shall surely enjoy meeting her at the wedding.”

“You shall not attend the wedding, Georgiana.  Wickham is in Hertfordshire and making mischief.”

She looked up, alarmed.  “Surely you can trust my judgment.”

He turned to her.  “Can I trust your judgment?” he asked her quite seriously.

“What if I promise to always be on Mr. Bridgerton’s arm and never out of his sight?”  She glanced at Benedict.  “Surely he would not find me a difficult charge.—Mr. Bridgerton?  Would you care to squire me at the wedding?”

He looked between the Darcy’s carefully.  “If Darcy considered it a good idea.  I would not wish to circumvent his authority as your brother.”

“No, never that,” she agreed.  She sat up from the settee and walked over to her brother.  “Fitzwilliam?  I believe I have much improved in the past year.”

“It bears considering,” he hedged.  “I should very much like you at my wedding.”

Georgiana smiled triumphantly and leaned up and kissed his cheek.  She went to sit back down on the settee.  “Oh,” she declared a moment later, clapping her hands together.  “Cousin Richard will be in town later this week.  He has promised to call.  Perhaps he can come to Hertfordshire for the wedding.”

Darcy tried not to roll his eyes.  Though he depended on Richard’s opinion, he did not want to frighten Isabella off with a bevy of relations.  He had determined to write to Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine De Bourg on Thursday from Netherfield so they would not get the letters in time, and he had thought to include Richard in their number, but it seemed that fate had other plans for him.

“I have not seen Colonel Fitzwilliam in several years,” Benedict was now admitting to a rapt Georgiana.  “He was not as of yet a Colonel but a Captain, if I remember correctly.”

“He is much improved,” Georgiana assured him.  “He grows to look more and more like us Darcy’s and less and less like the Fitzwilliams.”

“It is startling,” Darcy conceded, “as he has no Darcy blood.”  Darcy often wondered how many affairs his father had had.  Old Mr. Darcy had admitted to seducing his steward’s wife when the Lady Anne Darcy was with child with his first son and heir.  The product of that relationship was George Wickham, named for the master of Pemberley who was his unwitting father.  It seemed like Old Mr. Darcy had also seduced his brother in law’s wife, Lady Matlock, and had produced Richard Fitzwilliam, who also looked the quintessential Darcy.

Darcy often wondered how many other Darcy bastards dotted the Lake District.

It was a subject he had only brought up with Benedict on two occasions, wondering if he had the same problem with his family, but it appeared his parents had been not only very much in love with one another, but his father had been faithful.  The producing of eight children also spoke highly to that reality.

“When does he arrive?” he asked.

“He calls on Tuesday.”  Darcy would already be back in Hertfordshire.  If he took Georgiana with him, there would be no one for Richard to call upon.

“Benedict?  Can I leave you here with Georgiana?  I have an appointment with the Bishop of London.”

His friend looked up at him with his dark blue eyes.  “Miss Darcy is always safe with me.”

Safe, yes.  For now.  He had noticed a fondness for Georgiana on Benedict’s part.  Benedict even now was looking at Georgiana in regard.

Georgiana was but sixteen years old.  She favored Darcy in looks with curling dark hair and verdant eyes.  She was also particularly tall.  When she stood next to Benedict, albeit with her hair falling down her shoulders and in a bow, a blusher around her neck and her hems raised, they looked like they could, once Georgiana came out in a year or two, be quite the couple.

“It is settled then.”

Darcy wondered if Benedict would wait for his sister.  Perhaps he should ask him when Georgiana was not within hearing.  Of course, Georgiana was the same age as Eloise Bridgerton and Eloise was still a child.  Georgiana, though, had real life experience given that she had almost eloped with Wickham the year before.  He had confided the matter to Benedict, so at least he was informed.  Benedict still cared for Georgiana.  It spoke of his honor as a gentleman.

“Shall I play?” Georgiana inquired.

Benedict’s eyes lit up.

Darcy nodded in the assent.

The two gentlemen sat down on the couches and Georgiana moved to the pianoforte.

He spent a pleasant two hours within Georgiana’s company before he went over to Benedict and whispered in his ear that he was leaving.

“I’ll try to delay tea,” Benedict promised him.

“It is not necessary.”  He looked over at Georgiana and caught her eye.

She smiled at him but continued with her playing.

Slipping out of the room, he sent for his horse and called upon the Bishop’s Palace in London.

The procuring of a special license was more a matter of being of good family and making the correct donation to the diocese.  Some families in society procured them because scandal threatened the marriage of the two involved.  Some procured them for the status they brought.  Darcy was applying for them because of the potential scandal Wickham and Elizabeth Bennet would bring upon his marriage.  He also did not wish to wait the requisite three weeks that would be required to wait to marry Isabella.  He wanted to marry her immediately.

Of course, he could simply elope with her to Gretna Green, but a certain amount of talk would be attached to such an action, and he would have no hint of scandal attached to his marriage.  Better to have people whisper of his desire to marry his wife quickly because of his attachment to her than think there was an actual scandal attached to Isabella’s name. 

This way, as well, some of his friends and family could also be in attendance.

The thought of Georgiana meeting Isabella warmed him.  Georgiana would not help but approve of Isabella and Isabella, on her part, would immediately love and protect Georgiana.

The two young women, he hoped, would become closer than Mary and Isabella, though that might take some time.

He gained the special license without any difficulty and returned to Darcy House in time for a late tea, though he stopped by the barracks to inquire if Fitzwilliam was already in residence.

He was expected later that evening, so he left a note.

As soon as he arrived back at Darcy House, Georgiana finished her piece of Mozart and then called for tea for the three of them. 

Georgiana always laid an elegant tea set and he knew Benedict appreciated it.

“How shall you like it, Miss Darcy, to retire the place of hostess to another lady?” Benedict asked her perceptively.  “You have been the first in Darcy’s affections for so long.”

She paused and thought about it for a moment (Georgiana was often thoughtful) before she looked at Darcy with a critical eye.  “I am certain whomever Fitzwilliam has chosen is appropriate to the task.  And remember, Mr. Bridgerton, I have not been hostess for all that long.  I am barely sixteen years of age.”

“I sometimes forget,” Benedict apologized, “despite your mode of dress.  You are so much more accomplished than my sister Eloise.”

“Eloise is one of my greatest correspondents.”

Benedict openly laughed, sharing a look with Darcy.  “I do not doubt it,” he returned, looking once more at Georgiana.  “Did she write to you of Darcy’s short visit?”

Georgiana looked over at her brother assessingly.  Once again she was pensive.  “She said,” she admitted carefully, “that he seemed out of spirits.  Now he comes here not a week later and I find he is to be married!  I cannot account for it.”

“Matters of the heart often change one’s mood,” Darcy told her as the tea was brought in.

They waited for the footman to lay it down on the end table and then withdraw.  Georgiana set about making the tea.

“You were uncertain of the lady’s affections?” Georgiana asked her brother.

“It was not that,” he promised her.  “I was always certain of Isabella’s affections.”

Georgiana looked inquiringly at him but did not ask.  Instead, she poured the first cup and offered it to Benedict.  “You like the lady though.”

“I approve of Miss Bennet,” he agreed.  “She is also an excellent dancer.”

Pausing, Georgiana looked between them.  “There was dancing?”

“Last night Bingley held the Netherfield Ball,” Darcy informed her.  “It was quite the correct occasion to become engaged.”

“And then you come here for a special license.”  She poured a dish of tea after placing the strainer across the rim of the cup. 

“So correct,” Benedict told Georgiana as Darcy accepted his dish of tea, “that Mr. Collins took the opportunity to propose to Miss Mary Bennet the very same day.”

At this news, Georgiana betrayed her youth.  She looked positively excited.  “Who is Mr. Collins?”

Darcy looked exasperatedly at Benedict for sharing this information, though he supposed Isabella would have shared it at some point if Georgiana did not learn it at the wedding.  “Mr. Collins is a Bennet cousin.  Longbourn, the Bennet estate, is entailed to him.  It so happens that he is Lady Catherine’s cleric, which we all find unfortunate.  If Mr. Bennet does not depart us within the next five years, I have determined to mark him for a bishopric so the connection is not so unfortunate.”

Georgiana was frowning.  “The church,” she reasoned, “is at least a respectable profession, although his placement is distressing.  At least we know he is competent if Lady Catherine has offered him preferment.”  She took up her own dish of tea and took a sip of it. 

Benedict did not make comment.

“When is Miss Mary to wed?”

“The third week of Advent,” Darcy informed her.

“Shall we be returning to Netherfield then for the wedding?”

“Unfortunately,” Darcy told her.

Georgiana’s green eyes looked into his in question, but she did not vocalize it.  “Will Lady Catherine be in attendance?”

Darcy paused.  “I am uncertain.  It is perhaps unlikely given Anne’s health.”

Benedict paused a moment and changed the subject.  Darcy was certainly grateful to him.

Richard Fitzwilliam appeared at Darcy House well after dinner.  Georgiana was at the pianoforte again, Benedict at rapt attention, when the footman came to tell Darcy that his cousin was waiting in his study.  Darcy had left strict instructions that he was to be placed there when he called.  He wanted a private word.

“What is this?” Fitzwilliam asked, looking up from where he was pouring himself a whiskey at the sideboard.  “I can hear Georgiana playing the pianoforte.  Why am I in here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Fitzwilliam offered him the whiskey bottle.  Darcy shook his head.

“I am surprised to see you in London. I thought you were in Hertfordshire with Bingley.”

“I return tomorrow.”

Fitzwilliam’s verdant eyes met Darcy’s.  He was only an inch shorter and his forehead was just as broad.  His curly brown hair had been cut neater to the head, but it was undoubtedly the same Darcy hair.  “Well,” he said in his brusque manner, “out with it.”

“I am here to retain a special license.  I marry Miss Isabella Bennet in Hertfordshire on Friday.”

Fitzwilliam set down his whiskey glass in shock.  “What?  Did you compromise her?”

“Of course not!”  Of course, he had, but Isabella had not breathed a word of their late night conversation.  “What do you take me for?”

“Then why this hurried wedding?  Does Pater know?”

“I will write him from Netherfield Park.”

“The letter will not be received in time of the marriage!”

“No, probably not,” Darcy agreed.  “Georgiana will be there.  Benedict Bridgerton has met—and danced with—Isabella Bennet.  He heartily approves.  She is the daughter of the foremost family in the neighborhood.”

Fitzwilliam looked at him perceptively.  “What is wrong with her?”

Darcy sighed and walked over to the sideboard.  Picking up the sherry, he poured himself a small glass.  “Her mother’s relations.  Isabella knows I am requiring her to cut off all connection with her entire family, save her twin sister who is marrying next month to a respectable cleric who I will have marked for a bishopric.”

Looking at him, Fitzwilliam ran a hand down his face.  “Darce, it is not like you to be swept away by passion.”

“I cannot help it, man!” Darcy confessed.  “I am so deeply in love with Isabella I can hardly sleep.  I tried to cut myself off from her, but I was miserable.  The only remedy is marrying her and cutting her off completely.”

“And she will let you raise her up and not speak to her parents or any of her other family?” Fitzwilliam asked carefully.  “Most women would not abide such conditions.”

“She loves me enough.” Darcy told him calmly.  “She agreed.  The only provision she made is that she speak to her twin Mary, which is understandable given how close they are.  I shall speak to her fiancé and demand that he make the same conditions upon his marriage of his future wife.”

“And he will make them?”

“Of course he will,” Darcy scoffed.  “He is Lady Catherine’s cleric.  He lives in complete deference to her.”

Fitzwilliam made a face.  “I see your point.  You should mark him for a bishopric within three years, not five.”

Darcy folded his arms, leaned against the sideboard, and joked, “We should not elevate him so soon that it looks suspicious.  The man is hardly five and twenty.  At thirty he will be young for an Archdeacon.  At forty he will be young for a bishop.”

Fitzwilliam considered.  “You may be correct.  Still, it bears thinking about.”  He drank down the rest of his whiskey.  “I take it I am invited to the wedding, considering you could have kept it from me.”  He paused and thought.  “I do have a great deal of paperwork to do.”

Darcy slapped him on the back.  “Of course, you are invited.  Georgiana, Benedict, and I go down to Netherfield tomorrow.  I am certain Bingley will begrudge one more wedding guest.”

Smirking at him, Fitzwilliam finished his drink.  “I do not suppose you have a likeness of the lady.”

Darcy immediately took out the miniature of Isabella that Caroline had painted for him.  He passed it over.

Fitzwilliam squinted at it and then tipped it toward the candlelight.  “I think I have seen this likeness somewhere before.”  He regarded it for another moment.  “The eyes are painted violet instead of blue.”

“That is because her eyes are violet.”

“For certain?” Fitzwilliam asked in surprise, looking up. 

“For truth,” Darcy agreed, accepting back the miniature.  He looked at it a long moment, smiling to himself, and then putting it back in his pocket.  “Come,” he said, looking up, “come see Georgiana.  You know how she likes to see you.”

Fitzwilliam greeted.  “She is my favorite Darcy,” he teased.

With that, the two cousins left the study and followed the sound of music down the hall.