“I do not know Mrs. Aumont.”

“The lady said you would remember her as Christina Caxton.”

Darcy was out of his chair like a bullet and immediately went to the window. Of course, he knew he would be unable to see her as she was in the cab, but he needed to be convinced she was actually there. And then the absurdity of his situation brought a smile to his face and then all-out laughter because if he did not laugh he might very well cry. Earlier in the day, he had been pining for Elizabeth with her luminous eyes and curly hair that refused to stay in place, and he had begged the Fates for some sort of diversion. Well, his plea had been answered.

“Sir, will you receive the lady?”

“Yes, Mercer. She is an old friend.”

When Christina walked into the drawing room, six years of time melted away. Was it possible for someone not to age? Her blond hair and green eyes and flawless complexion—everything the same, including the most delicious lips he had ever tasted.

“Mrs. Aumont, welcome back to England.”

“Mr. Darcy, it is very good to see you again,” she said with a slight curtsey.

“Mercer, please arrange for some tea.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am feeling guilty enough about coming here unannounced, so I shall keep my visit brief.” Mrs. Aumont removed her pelisse to reveal a décolletage that stirred very pleasant memories.

Darcy instructed Mercer to pour two glasses of wine. “Have you returned to London permanently, Mrs. Aumont?”

“I shall answer your question only if you call me Christina.” After Darcy nodded, she continued, “My husband died last year after a lengthy illness. Up until that time, my being English had never been a problem, but with Wellington fighting Joseph Bonaparte in Spain, I was feeling less welcome. Without my husband’s protection, I felt quite vulnerable. Mr. Aumont had secured a pass for me to leave France, and I thought it best to use it while I was still sure that I could.”

Christina accepted the wine and took a tiny sip, which is something he remembered her doing. She explained that a woman could gain weight very quickly if she overindulged in food and drink, and she didn’t want to lose her figure. She had obviously succeeded.

“Where are you staying?”

“With Mrs. Conway. She lives in…”

As soon as he heard Mrs. Conway’s name, Darcy started coughing, nearly spitting out the wine. “Mrs. Conway of Bedford Square—the Whig hostess?” he croaked.

“Yes. She mentioned that you were acquaintances and of similar views politically, which I found quite gratifying because Mr. Caxton was a champion of Whig causes. I was surprised as I would have guessed that the Darcys would be Tories.”

“I do lean more towards the Whig point of view. These wars will end eventually, and grain prices will go down rapidly. In addition to my own interests, we must be in a position to protect the small farmer and our tenants, who will suffer greatly if something is not done.”

“That is all very admirable and interesting, William. But after six years, do you really want to talk about grain prices?”

“Sorry. I never was good at small talk.”

“No, you weren’t, but we didn’t talk all that much, did we?”

“Not about politics. I am sure of that,” Darcy said, feeling his neckcloth tighten.

“Do you remember our last time together?”

“It was Bordeaux, I believe. The home of the Comte de somebody. The name eludes me at the moment.”

“I wasn’t asking for a geographical reference. I meant where we stayed together.”

How could he not remember? When you made love on and off all night, it tended to stay with you.

“Were you allowed to bring your personal possessions with you when you left France?” he said, changing the subject as delicately as a coach and six making a U-turn in the road.

“I was told my chests were to follow, but I am beginning to wonder if it will ever happen.”

“You are short of funds then?”

“William, I do not wish it to appear that I have come with hat in hand.”

“I will gladly provide you with assistance.”

“That is very generous of you, but I must tell you there is an excellent chance I shall be unable to repay you.”

“Please do not think of it as a loan but as an arrangement between friends. Shall I send the cheque around to Mrs. Conway’s residence?”

“If you don’t mind, may I come by tomorrow for a visit? We have not spoken at all about what you have been doing all these years, and Mrs. Conway tells me you remain a bachelor and a much sought after one.”

Darcy assisted Mrs. Aumont with her pelisse, and she turned around and ran her fingers along his chin and tapped his lips lightly with her finger. “Until tomorrow. Shall we say 3:00?”

After Christina left, he collapsed into a chair. “Mercer, the gods are toying with me. I have always prided myself on keeping my life as uncomplicated as possible. So why, at this moment when it is in such turmoil, does my former lover appear at my door?” As he looked out the window, he watched as her hackney made its way through London’s crowded streets. “Do you know that old adage, Mercer, ‘Be careful what you wish for because you might get it?’ Just this morning, I was in need of a diversion, and I got it—in spades.”

“Perhaps, we will have good news shortly of Miss Lydia, and you will then be able to turn your full attention to Miss Elizabeth.”

“That is my greatest hope, but in the meantime, please arrange for tea with Mrs. Aumont for tomorrow. And, Mercer, you may have all my breeches. In the future, I shall wear only trousers. Life is entirely too unpredictable.”

Chapter 47

While Darcy was dressing, he gave Mercer very specific instructions for that afternoon’s engagement with Christina Caxton.

“I want a light meal served—not something that is going to take all afternoon. After we have finished eating, if Mrs. Aumont does not leave immediately, we shall go into the drawing room. But I do not want to be in there for more than fifteen minutes. I shall tell her I am expecting an important letter, which is the truth, and if she has not left by that time, I want you to come in and tell me the letter has arrived. I do not like deception. But she is an old friend, and I do not want to hurt her feelings. I just want her to leave.”

It was a simple plan that went awry immediately as Mrs. Aumont sent word that she would not be able to join Darcy at the agreed-upon time, but would visit around 5:00, making it more difficult to show her the door after fifteen minutes. Darcy, who knew he was miserable at small talk, would be at a loss as to how to fill the time. There was nothing in the rules of deportment taught to him by his mother and governess that covered former lovers.

He was already on edge because earlier in the day he had gone to George Bingley’s office in hopes of hearing some good news. But George dealt only in facts, and there was nothing new to report about Lydia and Wickham. Darcy wanted so much to write to Elizabeth, but what was there to say? “I am part of the reason your sister is with Wickham, and I haven’t a clue where she is.”

When Mercer showed Mrs. Aumont into the room, he took a deep breath. She was so beautiful. Who could resist her charms? He knew the answer: A man desperately in love with another could, and he gestured for her to sit on the sofa, while he sat on the chair opposite to her. But Christina patted the sofa and asked Darcy to join her. As soon as he sat down, he explained he was expecting a letter from a friend, and once he received it, he would need to leave immediately and hoped she would understand.

“I promise to be brief, and, therefore, let me begin immediately. Yesterday, your discomfort was so apparent that I thought I should not come back at all because I was embarrassed. But I wanted to explain my behavior,” and she looked to him for a sign that she should proceed, and he nodded.

“My husband and I were living happily in a small villa in the south of France when he became ill, and he never regained his health. When he died, I found it necessary to sell almost everything we owned in order to pay the bills. Even with that, I was never able to fully settle the accounts, which made no one happy, including myself.

“Although I am half French, I was known as La Femme Anglaise, and because of the fighting between the French and English, I found a very cool welcome where there had once been a warm one. I was so uncomfortable that I decided to leave France. The farther north I traveled the more hostility I met. I finally called on an old friend who escorted me to the frontier, and I sailed from Ostend. I was so happy to be on English soil, but then it dawned on me. I had not given any thought as to what I would do once I reached England.

“Please remember I have not been in England for ten years, and the first person I thought about was Mrs. Conway because her husband and Mr. Caxton had been political allies and had corresponded for years. She was so kind and offered to provide me with a room. When she asked if I had any friends, I mentioned that I knew you. She said that was fortunate as you and she were good friends, but she knew you to be in the country. Then I remembered your cousin was an earl. So I wrote to him, and he sent a hackney for me.”

“You met Lord Fitzwilliam? Good grief!”

“We spent a lovely afternoon together. I found him to be very amusing.”

“Oh, he keeps his family in stitches.”

“I can easily imagine him to be a thorn in the side of his relations, but he was quite gracious to me. He was very forward in the questions, and I confided in him that I had arrived in England with little more than my clothes and a promise of a draft from my bank, which I have not received. He said that he would help me in any way, except financially, as he was broke. I told him it was my intention to support myself as a dressmaker. My father was a tailor and my mother a seamstress, and basically, I served an apprenticeship under them. As a result, I can sew anything.

“It was then that he made the most incredible offer. He told me that all of his wife’s dresses were upstairs. He explained they were estranged, and he had written to her to come get them. Her answer was that she would not wear anything she had ever worn when she was with him. In an example of supreme understatement, he said, ‘She does not like me very much.’” Christina then stood up and took off her pelisse. “This is one of Lady Fitzwilliam’s gowns, which I have remade with some additional fabric from another. Her dresses were out of style, but the material is beautiful. Is it not?” And she turned around, so he could admire all of the dress.

“It is lovely. You could easily become a dressmaker to a duchess.”

“A couturier, William. A couturier can charge more than a dressmaker, and I already have a commission. Mrs. Conway gave my name to Lady Edgemont, which is why I was late.”

“My sincere congratulations to you, Christina, and now that I have seen your handiwork, I shall certainly recommend you to others. But until you are established, I hope you will accept my cheque as my contribution to the support of an emerging artiste.”

“Thank you, William. I wish I were in a position to refuse your offer, but I am not. As for yesterday, I must explain. Because I left everything familiar behind me, I was looking for a life raft to cling to until I could make my own way, and that is why I came here. But it was so obvious you were uncomfortable, possibly for many reasons, but I am quite sure of one. You are a man in love, but I do not think all is well there. I shall not pry. I will only say I hope that whatever keeps you apart will be quickly resolved. What we had in France remains a lovely memory for me, but it rightfully should stay a memory and I shall speak no more of it.”

At that point, Mercer came into the room to tell his master that the letter he was expecting had arrived, and he went so far as to place a letter on a tray.

“It is all right, Mercer. I can see to it later.”

“Excuse me, sir, but this is the one you have been waiting for,” and he held it up as proof that it really was a letter from George Bingley. Darcy was on his feet and gave a sigh of relief when he recognized Bingley’s handwriting.

“I shall detain you no longer as you have urgent business to see to,” Christina said. “I am just happy you really do need to leave, and it was not because you were trying to get rid of me.” Darcy smiled weakly. “Go on. Read your letter. Mercer can hail a cab for me,” and she held out her pelisse, so that Darcy might help her put it on. “I hope to see you about town,” and she allowed him to kiss her hand, and then she went downstairs with Mercer.