Mary Simonsen - The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy

“No, off you go. You anticipated my concerns.”

Darcy heard Georgiana say “good morning” to Anne on her way out, and then Anne came into the breakfast room smiling.

“You heard the whole thing, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. I think you made your point, and the desired result was achieved with such an economy of words,” and she started laughing.

“You may laugh, Anne, but no matter how overbearing your mother may be, she deserves our respect.”

“I think you are overly concerned. Georgiana obviously knows what constitutes private and public discourse. Speaking of discourse, our cousin is to make a speech in the House of Lords on Tuesday, and I am to hear him from the Visitor’s Gallery. He is speaking on British maritime supremacy with particular attention being paid to the Americans and the expansion of their merchant fleet. Will you attend?”

“Can you guarantee he will be sober?”

“Will, that is unkind. He is still Lord Fitzwilliam and our cousin.”

“Anne, the last time I saw him, he was outside White’s being supported by two of his friends while waiting for a hackney. If this excessive drinking does not stop, Richard will have a very good chance of becoming Lord Fitzwilliam. His daughters cannot inherit, and Eleanor will not have him in her bed for a king’s ransom, so there will be no heir.”

Anne knew well of Antony’s excesses, and it made her sad to think her cousin was well down the road to an early grave.

“I was aware Eleanor will no longer perform the duties of a wife. Apparently, she has taken a certain Mr. Dillon as her lover.”

Darcy nearly spat out his coffee. “Good God, Anne! Wherever did you hear that? Never mind. I do not want to know. What a topic of conversation for an unmarried woman!”

“Don’t be silly. I may be a maiden, but I am neither blind nor deaf, and I can read. Besides, it was Antony himself who told me about Mr. Dillon.”

Every day Darcy was witness to the great changes happening in society, and was there any greater proof of these convulsions than his sweet, angelic cousin discussing Lady Fitzwilliam being bedded by an importer of fabric from the East Indies?

Of late, so many things seemed upended, and he knew exactly when it had begun: on the road to Netherfield Park. First, the axle on the carriage had broken, and when forced to proceed on horseback, he had been caught out in the open in a rainstorm. His misfortunes multiplied from the time of that blasted assembly. He alienated Bingley, hurt Miss Bennet, insulted Miss Elizabeth not once but several times, and after following Elizabeth into Kent like a love-struck adolescent, his offer of marriage had been resoundingly rejected. He returned to London believing he would find some comfort in his own home. Instead, he found his sister dancing rings around him and his cousin discussing an extramarital affair with her male relation.

“Is there anything else our cousin shared with you?” he said, throwing his napkin on the table. “You know it was he who told The Insider that I would be making an offer of marriage to Miss Montford just as I had decided that I was not going to marry her. And do you know why he is doing this? Because he is being paid by The Insider.”

Anne understood her cousin’s anger, but it had little to do with Miss Montford. What had him so irate was an item that had appeared in several gossip sheets reporting that Will had been seen going into Mrs. Conway’s salon in the evening, but not emerging until dawn. The only news there was that Will believed his relationship with the intelligent and gifted widow of a Whig politician was a secret. Antony, who was unembarrassed by his liaisons, thought nothing of sharing similar information with others, even about the man who had repeatedly come to his rescue.

“That was very wrong of Antony, especially since I am sure it raised Miss Montford’s hopes of an offer, but on the other hand, Mrs. Conway can certainly take care of her herself.”

Will was thunderstruck. “How the devil…?” but then he stopped. “Anne, I have a meeting this morning with George Bingley, and I shall see you this afternoon.” And he went straight out the door, not even waiting for Mercer to hand him his hat.

When Darcy returned that afternoon, he presented his cousin with a bouquet of flowers that he had bought from a flower stall. This was something he frequently did for Anne whenever she was in town because it distressed him to know that his cousin would never have a suitor. It had been her choice, but it saddened him nonetheless.

“You always were the sweetest boy, and that has not changed with the years. So come and sit by me, and let us speak of our visit to Pemberley. I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am to be going. After two long years, I shall be able to walk in the gardens where I can see all the way to the Peak. I am also looking forward to going into the village. Do you often go into Lambton when you are in residence?”

“I would not say often. But when Georgiana and I return to Pemberley for any appreciable amount of time, we do go into the village. My sister is quite the social butterfly. She visits all the shops, compliments the merchants, praises their wives, and pats their children on their heads. She knows everyone’s name, and once she learns a baby has been born, she brings the mother a basket and writes the baby’s name in her little book.”

“Just like your mother.”

“Yes, but there is more pleasure in her kindnesses and less of the obligation.”

“Does Mrs. Culver still manage the inn at Lambton? She was such a nice lady.”

“No, her sons have taken over the management. I am laughing because I have heard many words to describe Mrs. Culver, but ‘nice’ was not one of them. It is hard to be nice when you have travelers descending upon you at all hours.”

“I remember her fondly. When we went there for tea, she always gave us sweets. Do you not remember?”

“Of course she gave us sweets. My father was the lord of the manor, and you were the granddaughter of an earl.”

“Will, you are spoiling my memories.”

Darcy sighed, another slipup, but added, “I stand corrected. Mrs. Culver meets the very definition of ‘nice’ in every respect.”

“My goodness. How sensitive we have become. It is just that I loved going there for tea. Do you think we could go into the village and have tea at the inn? I would like to do so as soon as possible after we arrive at Pemberley. I am that keen on revisiting places of my youth.”

“Whatever you wish will be done. I am at your service.”

Fuller and Wickham were sitting in the officers’ mess, and Fuller was smiling because, for once in his life, Fortune had shined on him. Not only was he winning at cards, but Wickham and he were still making frequent appearances at the Forsters’ house. All they needed to do in order to stay in the colonel’s good graces was to continue to kiss his wife’s arse.

“Wickham, I can hardly believe we have not had to report for parade for three weeks, all because Colonel Forster’s wife is pregnant and bored. Did I tell you Mrs. Forster slipped a crown into my hand yesterday?”

Wickham said nothing because she had been pressing a sovereign a day into his palm for more than a week.

“With the way she flirts, I can’t imagine what she would be like if she wasn’t expecting. She’s already an irritant to the colonel, but I predict she will become a major annoyance.” Fuller stood up and asked Wickham if he would like to go for a pint.

“I already have plans.”

“Do these plans involve Miss Lydia Bennet?”

“They do. While Mrs. Forster is soaking her feet and whining to her husband about her condition, Lydia and I will be meeting in our continuing effort to get to know each other better.”

“How well do you know her?”

“Not completely. But we are getting there. Slow but steady.”

With Brighton crowded with the various militias and regular army regiments, along with their families and the types of people who had always followed armies throughout the ages, it was easy enough for Lydia to separate herself from her friends and meet Wickham at an arranged spot near the pier. He found her to be silly, uninformed, and undisciplined, but in every other way, quite agreeable.

“You know if Colonel Forster finds out, he’ll have you up on charges.”

“To hell he will,” Wickham said, sitting upright in his chair. “I’ve had enough of the militia. The only reason I am still here is because you and I have made ourselves indispensable to the ladies. For three weeks, we have fawned and cooed and amused. While the regiment practices marching and maneuvers, we are having cake and punch. As soon as I find out that our services are no longer required, I will be long gone.”

“Alone?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Wickham remembered the first time he had kissed her. She had pushed off on him, giving him the usual line that she wasn’t that type of girl, but when he had asked her, “Then why are we meeting in secret under a pier?” she had pulled him back and said no more.

With each meeting, she became slightly more liberal with her favors, and all that was required was for him to speak of marriage. But she had her limit, and she had reached it. As a result, she had become a tease, and he was tiring of it. But there was one reason he continued to meet her.

As a matter of self-preservation, wherever Wickham went, he kept his eyes and ears open. If a merchant started grumbling, he would visit the shop and make just enough payment to keep the owner happy, thus creating the illusion that it was his intention to satisfy his debts. He used the same skills in avoiding angry fathers and brothers of girls he had bedded, and because he was always aware of what was going on around him, he knew that Charles Bingley had fallen in love with Jane Bennet. The romance was of little interest to him. What mattered was that Bingley was a friend of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

It was now in his power to seduce the sister of the woman Bingley wanted to marry. He had begun to make plans in which he would convince Lydia to agree to an elopement, and he would spirit her off to London. Once there, he would persuade her to resign her virginal status, and after that, he would abandon her. Wickham smiled at the thought of Darcy realizing that his old enemy had snuck into his camp and had succeeded in wounding one of his party.

The plan was in place. He was just waiting for the right time to execute it. For the time being, it was necessary to continue courting a sixteen-year-old tease, but there were worse ways to spend an evening.

It had been a week since Jane had stood by the gate waving good-bye to Lizzy and the Gardiners as their carriage disappeared into the distance. When she had turned around, the four young Gardiners were waiting for their cousin Jane to play with them, but after a week, she was tired because the children required her constant attention.

As they did each evening after dinner, everyone adjourned to the front parlor. While Jane played with the children on the floor, everyone else was otherwise engaged. Mama was doing needlework, Papa was reading the newspaper, Kitty was drawing, and Mary was playing on the pianoforte. Looking around at this scene of domestic felicity, it dawned on Jane that the care of the children had fallen entirely to her. She was being treated in exactly the same way a governess would be. But she was not a governess, and she intended to make that fact known.

“Mary, stop playing the piano and start playing with your cousins,” she said, rising from the floor. “The same thing for you, Kitty. And both of you will prepare the children for bed, and since you are so proud of your voice, Mary, you may sing to them. And tomorrow, Kitty, you may take the children outside. They love to run, and since you demonstrated your lightness of foot at the Netherfield ball when you chased after all those young officers, you may run with them. I am now going to my room where I shall spend the rest of the evening reading. Alone!”

Everyone, including the children, went quiet. No one had ever heard Jane raise her voice before nor could anyone remember her storming out of a room. Jane was reliably calm, which was an absolute necessity because of their mother’s nerves, and had always shouldered more than her share of the responsibilities. She could be depended upon to do the right thing without complaint. What had happened to cause such an emotional outburst?