Excentryke's Musings

Daisy Chains

Part the Eighth

Despite it being a matter of only a week and a half, Lieutenant Philip Dwyer proposed to Renee.  Renee was overjoyed.  She, of course, accepted.  The wedding was planned for the first week of November.

To Bella’s displeasure, Phil—for now he was “Phil”—was to move into the townhouse until the lease was up or the regiment should move on, whichever would come first. 

“After all,” Renee told Bella over tea, “we cannot leave you in a house without a chaperone.”  Bella wondered why not.  Renee wasn’t much of a chaperone to begin with.

With the announcement, came invitations to officer gatherings and an influx of officers in the townhouse.  It really was inescapable.  To Bella, it seemed like they had a party nearly every night.  Their guests were constantly drinking and constantly carousing.

After the first two nights, she made her excuses and claimed a near constant headache.

She also didn’t like the way that Wickham looked at her.

He seemed to know better than to approach her, but that didn’t stop him from regarding her.

“Miss Swan,” Lieutenant Saunderson asked, “how can you be on the verge of marrying Darcy when he is such a bad man?”

They were now in the parlor three days into the engagement and Bella was obliged to take tea with Renee’s fiancé and his friends.

“I think you are mistaken,” she told Saunderson.  “Darcy is not a bad man.  Quite the reverse.  He is held in the highest regard in this house.”

“An engagement is imminent,” Renee agreed, a sly smile on her lips.

Wickham was standing by the door, a dish of tea in his grasp, ever watchful.

“But he cheated poor Wickham here,” Saunderson continued, “of the living of Kympton, which was left to him in Old Mr. Darcy’s will.”

“The late Mr. Darcy was my godfather,” Wickham put in for good form. His green eyes connected to Bella and a shiver of dislike shot down her spine.  She quickly looked away.

“I had a report of some such thing,” she admitted.  “Still, it does not signify whether or not he was your godfather.  I cannot speak to the living of Kympton, but I am sure there is information missing from this story.  Darcy is an honorable man.”

Saunderson opened his mouth to protest, but Wickham shook his head.

“Are you very much in love with him?” Wickham inquired, setting down his dish of tea and coming forward to take a seat on the couches.

Renee really should have put a stop to this line of questioning, but she was whispering on a loveseat with Phil, undoubtedly making plans for the future.

Folding her hands over her knee, Bella did not back down.  “You suppose what can only be a truth,” she answered. 

“Then you will always take his side.”

“I know his character, Mr. Wickham,” she corrected.  “I know Darcy owns all your gambling debts in Derbyshire.  Have you amassed any here as of yet?”

Wickham cracked an uncomfortable smile.

Phil looked up in interest.  “You owe me twenty-five pounds now that Colonel Forster forced you to give me back a hundred,” he put in.  “Are you not good for it?”

“No,” Bella told her future stepfather who was young enough to be her lover.  “Mr. Wickham is not good for it.”

“Be gad, Wickham,” Saunderson swore.  “You owe half the regiment money.”

Wickham was doing his best not to look uncomfortable.

“I would stop playing cards with Mr. Wickham if I were you, gentlemen.  No good can come of it.”  She looked out the window and saw that Darcy had arrived with two horses.  She had a morning of riding to look forward to instead of being stuck in the parlor with three officers.

Darcy, however, came into the parlor with an invitation.

“A ball?” Renee enthused, her hand grasping Phil’s.  “We can officially announce our engagement.”

“You can wear white,” Bella told her.  “You will no longer be a widow in mourning but a woman newly married.”  She took the invitation and checked the date.  It was the night of the first full moon.  Renee would already be Mrs. Dwyer.  “Phil, I take it, is included in the invitation as he will be married to Lady Swan by the time of the ball.”

Darcy bowed in the direction of Phil, who nodded back in all politeness.

It was done.  Bella had included Phil in the invitation.  Her mother would be happy.  She just hoped that Renee’s white dress from last season would be respectable.  Bella could not afford to buy her another one.

Once Darcy had escorted her outside, he carefully asked her, “Should you like a new dress for the ball?”

She paused next to the mare she was to ride, petting her mane, and looked up in confusion.  “I’m sure I have not grown too much since last season.  Carrie can let down the hem.”  Her violet eyes were wild and guiless.  “I was just thinking that Renee’s dress would have to do.”

“Lady Swan’s dress will, of course, have to do,” Darcy agreed, still careful.  “However, I intend that we should announce our engagement at the ball.  I should very much like you to be in the latest fashions and in silks.  The local dressmaker can take your measurements and send them to Madam Delacroix on Bond Street.  She knows to expect them and to rush a dress for you in time.”

“Are you asking me—here in the street where my mother is looking at us out of the window—?” Bella turned back to the townhouse and saw the curtain flutter.  She saw the familiar face of Wickham and she grimaced.

“No.  We should go back to our meadow.”

She nodded and allowed him to help her into the saddle.  Bella had gotten so used to his touch that although she still recoiled from it, she showed no outward sign of dislike. 

They turned East in the direction of Hatfield Orchard and rode in silence.

Bella’s mind was in a whirl.

She knew this was coming.  Of course, she knew this was coming.  She had known for weeks upon weeks.  She had known of Darcy’s regard for her since the Meryton Assembly.  His proposal was a foregone conclusion, but now that it had come, she felt her throat tie up in knots.

The ride was over before it had even begun, Bella was so lost in her thoughts.

She breathed out slowly and didn’t wait for Darcy to help her down, swinging out of the saddle herself.  Giving over the reins, she settled into the flowers and immediately started picking daisies, making daisy chains so she wouldn’t have to think about what was about to happen.

She felt, rather than saw, Darcy sit beside her in the tall grasses.

“Isabella—”

She didn’t look up.  She just continued to twist daisies.

He reached out and took her hands, the flowers falling from her gloved fingers.  His thumbs stroked the inside of her palm, and a shiver of dislike reached through her arm, but she forced her face to show nothing.  Looking up with wide eyes, she regarded him carefully.  He was regarding her just as carefully as she was regarding him.

Sweeping the hat off his head, he leaned in and kissed her for the second time.

Bella was quite surprised as his arm went around her waist and she practically squeaked, clutching at his shoulders so she wouldn’t flop uselessly in his arms. 

The kiss was only the press of lips against lips, but that was more than enough for Bella.  She hated the feeling of Darcy’s breath against her cheek and was relieved when he let her go again.  His eyes searched hers and he smiled at her, a small, unsure smile, and she was powerless to return it.

“Isabella—” he repeated again.

“Darcy,” she murmured, once again picking up daisies in her hands and twisting them into a chain.  “This is the moment.”

“Yes, this is the moment.”

She held in a sigh that wished to escape her.

“You can be in no doubt that I love you,” he told her, watching as she played with the daisies.  “You are feminine elegance and refinement.  It is true that you are still young, but you will grow into your role as one of the preeminent ladies in Derbyshire.” 

She glanced up at him with her wide violet eyes, catching his gaze, but then looked back at the flowers in her hand. 

“Our relative stations in life, though yours is much reduced since Sir Charles’s death, make us more than compatible.  I am a gentleman from a foremost estate, my grandfather an earl, and you the daughter of a baronet.  Our bloodlines are unequaled.” 

Bella had to hold in a snort.  She could care less about blood.  She fancied a country night surgeon who didn’t have two guineas to rub together and had a profession.  What did she care about ancient family names?

“If you allow me, I can make you the happiest of women.  I can take you away from the follies of Lady Swan and the poverty the death of your excellent father has brought you to.”  Now he reached out and took her hands again, but she refused to drop the daisies.  “Allow me, Isabella, to raise you up.”

She took a deep breath and knew it was time for her answer.  There was only one answer.  At the end of January, the lease on the house in Meryton would be up and Renee would be gone with her new husband, if they hadn’t gone before, and she would be entirely friendless with no protector in the world.

“I will, Darcy,” she told him with a small smile that she forced on her face.  “I will allow you to raise me up.”

A large smile spread across his features and he took her hands and kissed the back of them, despite the fact that she was wearing riding gloves and that she was holding a daisy chain. 

It was more than half an hour later, when they were once again settled in the meadow and Bella had made several daisy chains, that Darcy brought up the matter of the dress again.  “We shall, of course, tell Lady Swan, but we shall announce it at the Netherfield Ball a week and a half hence.  I should like you to have a new gown.  Mrs. Webb knows to expect you today.”

“Madam Delacroix does not know my likes and dislikes,” she argued.  “I do not like a low decolletage, for example, and always prefer to wear a blusher.”

“You were wearing a blusher when we met,” Darcy recalled fondly, “but you cannot wear a blusher at a ball when you are wearing only white.”

“Surely I can,” Bella argued.  “I have done it before and I shall do it again.”

Darcy looked at her indulgently.  “I shall include in my note your preferences.”

“Should I not include my own note?” Bella gently suggested, not giving an inch.  “I am, after all, the client, even if I am indulging you by allowing you to take care of the bill.”

“If you think that best.”  It was clear that Darcy was only humoring her.  Even if she wrote a note, he would not necessarily include it.  She did not force the point any further.

She finished a particularly large daisy chain and indicated that Darcy lean forward. She strung it over his head and arranged it so it was lying across his jacket.  Smiling to herself, she regarded himself.  “There,” she stated, “the fairies have marked you.”

“The fairies?” he inquired.

“Indeed, the fairies.”

She had long discarded her bonnet and was wearing a fairy chain around her neck, several around her wrists and a crown around her head. 

“When we have children, I shall take them out to the Pemberly gardens and we shall make daisy chains,” she told him.  “It is a necessary part of childhood.”

“Is it now?”  He was looking at her lovingly.  “I thought you were engaging in childhood yourself.”

“Perhaps I am,” she agreed, twisting more daisies together.  “I have not yet been presented to Queen Charlotte and already I am engaged.”

He turned thoughtful.  “You shall be presented as my wife.  My aunt, the Countess of Matlock, will sponsor you.”

She looked over at him and nodded.  “Renee was supposed to do it next year.  Charlie didn’t like the idea of going to London, but even he agreed I must go for at least a fortnight for that reason.”

Darcy reached out and ran his fingers over the crown of her ear.  “I understand it was a hunting accident.”

Bella remembered it all.  The fight between Renee and Charlie.  The broken china.  The shouts and accusations.  Charlie taking the gun out of the desk and recklessly going riding.  He never came hope.  There was one shot to the temple, the horse tied up to a tree.  The magistrate had declared it a hunting accident and it had all been hushed up.

Bella tried to love her mother and tried not to blame her, but if Renee had just given into Charlie’s demands to have a son for the title and estate—none of this ever would have happened.  Renee’s refusals for more than sixteen years had driven him mad, making him forget everything he owed to his future widow and his daughter.

If Charlie was alive, he would have allowed her to pass over Darcy and wait for someone she found more acceptable.

But Charlie wasn’t alive.  He had shot himself in the temple, and now everything was different.

“Yes,” Bella agreed solemnly, “a horrible hunting accident.”

“I marvel that you still go hunting.”

“I am not so reckless with my firearms,” she told him a little harshly, not looking him in the eye, “and you notice I did not even carry a gun when we went shooting at Netherfield.”

Darcy looked at her carefully.  “No, you did not,” he agreed. 

When it was an hour before lunch, they divested themselves of their daisy chains, and rode back toward Meryton to Mrs. Webb’s where Bella was undressed behind a privacy screen and was measured.  Mrs. Webb was a small woman with beady eyes, spectacles on her nose.  She didn’t ask any questions and Bella wondered if she had been paid to remain silent.

The measurements were handed over to Darcy, most unusual as he was not her husband, and Bella redressed.

When they returned to the Meryton townhouse, Renee was still entertaining, but Darcy had prepared for that.  He produced a note and gave it to Bella before kissing her on the temple, leaving her to the tender mercy of her mother and her guests.

Bella feared that Wickham might still be there.

Renee went out to lunch with Dwyer, Saunderson, and Wickham, which Bella supposed was a usual practice for officers, leaving Bella behind at the townhouse.  Bella stored the note in her dress pocket.  As tempted as she was to break the seal, she did not.

Renee wasn’t home until well past dinner. 

Bella heard her come in, giggling, and when she came to find her mother, she found her drunk and stumbling over herself, Phil assisting her to walk.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.  “You are a baronet’s widow!”

Renee sniggered.  “Bellllllllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaa,” she sighed and then broke down into giggles.  “It was only a bit of brandy.”

Phil was leading her to the stairs.

“You cannot go upstairs,” Bella told him, coming up to Renee and putting her free arm over her shoulder.  “It is not proper.”

“Your mother wanted to salute as much as the officers,” Phil not-quite-apologized.

“I don’t care.  You’re still not going upstairs.”

Phil looked doubtful, but he untangled himself from Renee, who chased him, bringing an arm around his neck and looked like she wanted to be kissed.  Bella had never been so embarrassed in her life.

“Say goodnight,” Bella instructed her mother.

“Why?” Renee sighed.

“Because it’s well past nine in the evening,” Bella told her.

She had to practically kick Phil out the door and called Charlotte to help her carry Renee up the stairs.  They ended up having to undress Renee and lay her down on the bed. 

Bella, in the end, propped up Darcy’s letter on the bedside table.  Renee could read it when she woke up and had a hangover.

She closed the door on Renee singing a church hymn.

At least it didn’t have inappropriate lyrics.

Bella went back downstairs and picked up the volume of Thomas Gray she had been reading, but she found she couldn’t concentrate.  She could still hear Renee’s broken singing coming down the stairs.

Knowing that it was improper, Bella went and fetched her pelisse and bonnet and left the house, facing the dark streets of Meryton without an escort.

At first, she wasn’t entirely sure where she was going.  She was just going where her feet were taking her.  She wasn’t even paying attention.

Then she felt it.  Someone was watching her.

Fearing it would be Wickham, Bella stilled and turned her head.

Across the square, she saw the undeniable figure of Dr. Carlisle Cullen.

She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

She stood there, just looking at him, wondering if he would approach her or if he would simply nod his head in recognition of her presence and move on.

They stood like that, motionless, for several long moments.

Strangely, it seemed like Carlisle wasn’t even breathing.

Then, Carlisle seemed to make a decision.  He took a step in the direction he had been heading and then, changing course, he turned and began to walk across the square toward her.  Tipping his hat toward her in greeting, Carlisle asked her, “Miss Swan, whatever are you doing out at night without an escort?”

“I needed a breath of fresh air,” she answered honestly.  “I felt like I couldn’t breathe in the house.”

He nodded carefully, taking this in.  “Still, you should not be unaccompanied.”

“You can accompany me,” she suggested, boldly.

“I would ruin your reputation if you were seen out alone, at night, walking with a single gentleman.”

The thing is, Bella wanted her reputation ruined so she wouldn’t have to marry Mr. Darcy.  She couldn’t bear the thought of her wedding night when he would kiss her and undress her.  She was uncertain what would happen after he should undress her, but she knew it was nothing she would enjoy.

“I’m engaged,” she whispered as if it were a dark, horrible secret.  “It will not be announced until the Netherfield Ball and Rene—that is, my mother—has not even been informed yet, but I am engaged to Mr. Darcy.”  She looked up at him desperately.

His face did not register any shock as if he had expected the news.  “I can only offer you many felicitations, Miss Swan.”

“Surely you must come to the ball,” she wheedled.  “We have never danced with each other.”

“Miss Swan, you are an engaged woman—”

“Engaged women can still dance,” she reminded him.  “I am sure I shall dance with Bingley as he is Darcy’s great friend.  Perhaps I will dance with Lieutenant Dwyer as he is to be my mother’s husband by then.  Why should I not dance with you?”  Her wide eyes tried to catch his gaze, but he was now looking over her left shoulder.  “Surely you dance.”

“Not with any alacrity.”  He still wasn’t looking at her.

“But tell me you will be invited—”

“Even if I should be included, I should not go,” Carlisle told her sternly, still only looking over her left shoulder.  “Surely you see that.  It would not be wise.  If I should touch you—”

“What?” Bella asked desperately.

“If I should touch you,” Carlisle confessed, his eyes never once looking into her eyes, “I should never be able to let you go.”  He tipped his hat to her and then walked away from her.

Bella turned, watching him go, her breath caught in her throat.

He did care for then.  He was not indifferent.  She had not been imagining it.

But what could be done?  She was promised to another man and the marriage would go through.

She stood there for several moments until the laughter of drunken officers made Bella recollect herself, and she decided to head back in the direction of the townhouse.  When she arrived back, it seemed like Renee had fallen asleep.  She had stopped singing, at least.

Bella immediately knew when Renee had read the note.  It was sometime before the sun rose.

Renee came into Bella’s room, shook her awake, and cried, “He proposed?”

Bella looked up and noticed that Renee’s golden hair was in disarray and her eyes were red with a hangover.  Great.  Just what she needed.

“Yes, Darcy proposed.  You were entertaining and he could not ask your blessing.  We know we have your permission.”

“Of course you have my blessing!” Renee cried.  “He wants to marry you directly after the Netherfield Ball, but two days after, and he has ridden to London to go and get a Special License.”

At this, Bella sat up and took the note that was in Renee’s hand.  Darcy had never mentioned going to London or a special license to her.  She supposed he could always drop off her measurements to Madam Delacroix if he was in London.  He could possibly even bring back the dress.

She was in no mood to giggle as she imagined Darcy as a messenger boy.

“I shall still be married after you and Phil,” Bella murmured.

“Not much after,” Renee pointed out.  “Only by a week.”

“A week,” Bella murmured.  She suddenly wondered if Darcy had ordered her a wedding dress along with a ball gown.  She wouldn’t be surprised.  She suddenly wondered if all of Darcy’s relatives could get to Hertfordshire in time for the wedding.  She would have to write to Sir Lewis and Lady Swan immediately.

Bella immediately swung off her blankets and set her feet on the cold wooden floor.  At least she was wearing socks.

“Why are you getting up?” Renee demanded, backing up to allow Bella out of bed.

“I must write to Sir Lewis and invite him to the wedding.  I suppose he must stay at the Meryton Arms.”

Renee bit her lower lip, thinking.  “Yes, Sir Lewis must be here,” she agreed.  “Most thoughtful.  At least we have the date.”  She looked down at the letter.  “Friday, November 28^th.  Two days after the full moon.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed.  “That gives us—what?”  She thought a moment.  “Fifteen days exactly.”

She went over to her desk and took out a piece of parchment.  “Sixteen days.  It’s still the night of the twelfth but the letter won’t go out until the thirteenth.”  She took out her quill and dunked it in the ink jar.

Bella started writing out the invitation.  She would have to make the reservations for two rooms at the Meryton Arms herself the next morning for Sir Lewis and another for his daughter, Miss Eloise Swan.”

Renee was muttering to herself in a corner, looking over the letter, clearly pleased with herself.  “And married by Advent!”

Bella couldn’t stand it.  Renee was going to tell everyone she had orchestrated the highly desirable marriage.  “We are not announcing it until the Netherfield Ball,” she reminded her mother.  “You cannot even tell Phil.”

“No?” Renee whined.

“If you tell Phil, he will tell Saunderson, and Saunderson will tell the whole Regiment.”  Bella finished her letter and salted it.  “You know this is true, Renee.”  She got out the sealing wax and lit it on the end of the candle Renee was holding up.  “Promise me.”

Renee hesitated. 

“You do not wish to anger Mr. Darcy,” Bella coaxed.  “What if he were to call off the wedding?”  Of course, that would never happen, but Bella could threaten it.

Renee’s eyes went wide.

“Exactly,” Bella told her, going back to the desk and dripping the wax on the back of the letter to seal it.  She picked up the Swan Family seal.  She would soon have to discard it for the Darcy Family seal, whatever that should look like.  She had only seen it once, on the note that Darcy had left for Renee.

Bella looked up at Renee.  She was now silent, holding the letter to her breast.  It was clear she was taking Bella seriously.

“Agreed?” Bella checked.

“Agreed.”

And with that, the two women went to bed, one gladdened and the other resigned, each holding the secret of the engagement.