Georgiana Darcy's Secret Letters Read online

  “Darcy’s last major jaunt to London was in company with Bingley and his sisters, and I think he realised Caroline had set her heart on him and he averse to the notion of marriage, and yet it would have solved that other dilemma.”

  “Ah, yes— Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s desire to see a union betwixt Darcy and her daughter. Shamefully close alliance, methinks, as does your brother despite the fact he is fond of Anne, and justly so. She is family, after all. But look where resistance to Caroline led Darcy, his introduction to the Bennet houeshold was a near catastrophe— and Wickham was far from the cause of his underlying grief and anger.”

  With nothing to add to Belle’s outburst as they began ascending a steep incline, trees giving sway to open fell she held her tongue.

  Her former feelings for Wickham had left her bereft, betrayed, and the little self confidence she had gained despite her sheltered life had fallen away in like to autumn leaves after a glorious spring and summer, her burgeoned love likewise. How could she have been so foolish, but he was so funny, so charming, and so very different than Fitz who gave himself to study and all that was boring.

  Besides, she had known Wickham from when old enough to recognise that he was not a second brother, that he was in fact the son of her father’s estate steward. Aside from that, he was in company with her father far more than Fitz ever was, and her girlish mind had settled on Wickham as her light relief, someone who never judged her, never scolded her except when she did foolish and dangerous things such as walking on the parapet of the bridge. Oh how she remembered his scold and the way he protectively gathered her into his arms and wrenched her down to safety. It was all so sad the way he had turned out, for at one time there was honest goodness in his heart.

  She must not dwell on all that was Wickham and the past. Perhaps the future she had dreamed of when she and— Oh blast. Wickham was her past, just as father and Fitz were. And Belle, oh how Belle had always lightened her spirits in sisterly fashion, but Belle and Fitz were that much older, more mature in all they did. She had heard tell of the day Belle had arrived at her uncle’s estate, the lively young spark that of his brother’s child and his goddaughter. It was known from that day Belle would inherit Farthingly, her uncle a childless bachelor and no sons to pass his beloved stud to. And who better than Belle to carry on all that Lord Charles Sanders had built from the purchase of a Turkman stallion and three brood mares. As the orphaned daughter of a duke and duchess, all that Lady Belle Sanders had known as a small child was inherited by another uncle, her move to Farthingly no doubt incredibly daunting at the time. But such had to be, for the Sanders Estate had passed to Charles Sanders elder brother Digby, and he and his wife were full-time courtiers within the royal household and not in the least given to rearing the eldest deceased brother’s small child.

  “You’ve fallen quiet, Georgie.”

  “My mind was rambling.”

  “Mine too, and a walk will do us good, and to that aim, gentle as she goes, Seb.” Belle immediately reined in Sebastian from trot to walk, and slid the driving whip into its ring holders. “Whoa boy, whoa.”

  Hamish having heard the work walk had eased out from between them and slithered into the foot-well and as soon as Sebastian drew to a standstill the mischievous Scotty leapt from the curricle and scampered off in search of rabbits. Hamilton equally alighted in haste and stepped around to take charge of Sebastian.

  “We’ll not be too long at the walk. The milestone will be far enough. We’ll meet with you there.”

  Thus they set off across the fine green turf of the lower slopes of the open fell, the view below to lush green fields and stone walled enclosures lay mapped out before them and interspersed with wooded dells in the valley. To their left bracken had been cut, tied and stacked in stooks for winter bedding when the snows would come sweeping through to blanket the fells and cattle would be taken in to shelter within byers. Walking a little farther where Hamish had disappeared into swathes of heather and where the occasional furze stood windswept and leaning into the upward slope. Belle suddenly stopped and looked back to the narrow stretch of lane where Hamilton had begun his descent with the curricle. The sound of Sebastian’s steel shoes clattering on stone had masked the sound of two horses following his trail until a male voice drifted on the freshening wind. “Lady Belle, a moment of your time would be much appreciated?”

  “Goodness, I was not expecting a visitor,” said Belle, a near whisper, “and where else would he be going but Farthingly?”

  “Indeed quite out of his way, and on purpose it would seem.”

  “Do I look presentable, Georgie, or a dreadful fright? Be absolutely honest.”

  “You look lovely, your cheeks rosy, and besides, we are out walking Hamish, and I’ll go ahead in search of the rascal.”

  “That seems so unfair when we were set on walking together.”

  “I promise you, I do not mind at all.”

  “I’ll catch up with you.”

  Although it was inappropriate to glance over her shoulder curiosity won, and the rider was almost parallel to them, his horse soon striding a sheep trail between the heather. “I hadn’t expected to find you out walking, dear lady,” said the Earl of Mayberry, in springing from the saddle. Handsome he was, mature in years, his blue eyes for Belle only.

  So intent was nosy Georgiana Darcy in fleeting glances to her rear she stumbled over a clump of heather, lost her balance and ended up rolling down the slope. All but a short distance and within earshot of the loving couple who had indeed exchanged a momentary kiss. It was that blessed loving kiss the cause of her tumble, thus she drew her cloak about herself and stifled a giggle. So it most definitely was the earl who had caused the sparkle in Belle’s eyes of late, but who was his companion?

  What was she to do now— clamber to her feet or stay where she was rather than imply she was spying on them? In that moment of indecision Hamish reappeared with a rabbit firmly grasped between his jaws, a triumphal air about him though a little out of wind. Perhaps in seeing her sitting on her rump he thought it an excellent idea and joined her. Almost immediate of dropping the rabbit he set about scratching himself in frantic manner.

  “Oh no, you little wretch,” declared she, in scrambling to her feet. “It’s flea-ridden.”

  “It needs dunking in the beck, the dog likewise,” said a distinguished voice, leading a dapple grey horse in hand.

  On turning she now recognised the earl’s companion. “Would that help, your Grace?”

  “But of course,” rallied the Duke of Devonshire, his intense deep blue eyes assessing her, though markedly kind in manner. In appearance he was immaculate of dress whilst unremarkable in looks, his voice gentle. “No harm done as I can see— though I had wondered until you leapt to your feet and danced away from the offensive creature.”

  Aware her cheeks were burning red hot, she rallied half fearing she would trip over her tongue. “I thank you for your kind act of gallantry, and yes, I am unhurt, if feeling a little foolish.”

  A deep chuckle ensued, and then: “My pleasure— Miss Darcy. It is Miss Darcy, or have I now made a complete fool of myself?”

  “No, I am me.”

  “That would be Miss Darcy?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Ah, forgive me. I tease for want of words in the company of exceptionally pretty young maids.”

  “Your Grace,” said Belle, rushing forth, “are you free Wednesday next for supper?”

  “Ah, afraid not. I have a prior engagement. Besides, play gooseberry?”

  Belle blushed. “It would be nothing of the kind.”

  “I beg to differ, but dash it all, had you asked last I saw you, then oblige I would. Alas, I am promised elsewhere as of two days past.”

  “Next time, perhaps, and I will send word well in advance.”

  “Do that, your ladyship, and I will endeavour to please.” He glanced to where the earl awaited his presence but reached for Belle’s gloved hand and kissed it, and then
, “Miss Darcy,” said he, in doffing his hat. “Good day— and do as I suggested, chuck that rapscallion in the beck and his prize catch with him.”

  With that said he turned his horse about, remounted, and rode away with the earl.

  Belle laughed. “Did he suggest you throw Hamish in the beck?”

  “He is the very devil for rabbits, and look at him scratching.”

  “Then best we march him down to the milestone and let Hamilton do the business, else Hamish will never forgive us.”

  And so they set off, Hamish with his rabbit, and a pink hue to Belle’s cheeks.

  Romance was most definitely in the air.

  Belle laughed again, her light-hearted laugh and hitched arms as they emerged onto open sheep grazed slope. “Did I tell you Lieutenant Dolby, who is of course Viscount Welton, will accompany his father on Wednesday?”

  Her heart lurched. “Yes.”

  “He is a most charming young officer, and you liked him well enough when we encountered him Saturday last. And at least we’ll be nicely rounded in numbers for carding.”

  She thought better of saying I may have liked the viscount better had he replied to my letter, because some things were best kept secret. Perhaps it was time to return to Pemberley, it would be an easy solution to her dilemma and avoidance of being humiliated by a visitation to Farthingly of the earl and his son.

  Three

  ~

  The very next day dawned with dismal skies and imminent downpours but rain had held off and a good morning out riding with Belle and Fitz was most enjoyable. Both had taken turns in putting a horse through its paces in harness, and it was true to say they had invested a great deal of time in their joint sporting activity, though as Belle had said, ‘As much as I love your company you really must guard against too much desertion of your new wife’ to which Fitz had replied, ‘the least she knows the better, else our secret will be unearthed and where would be the joy in that for us or for her?’

  Belle had shrugged and said no more, his sister likewise, for Fitzwilliam and Belle were very close, and rumours had long since abounded of love and romance between them. If such had occurred, and it was not beyond probability for they had and still did while an inordinate amount of time in each others’ company. But the plain fact of the matter he was married now, and to the delightful and spirited Elizabeth née Bennet. Thus, his continued regular visitations to Farthingly had surely given rise to ponder. After all, what must Elizabeth surmise from his frequent absences— did she not wonder where he went and what he was doing?

  Surely any young wife newly brought to the marital home within a strange county hundreds of miles distant from all that she had known, and all her family and friends, would indeed become a lonely soul wandering around the vastness of Pemberley.

  Darcy required a good talking to, for he had made no attempt to hold supper parties to ease Elizabeth into the local society whirl, which would afford her the opportunity to meet and greet and acquire acquaintances in the first instance, and thereafter develop friendships. He really should have thought of the consequences of marriage and that a commitment such as that should never be taken lightly, nor acted upon in spur of the moment passion as almost happened in her ludicrous near elopement with Wickham.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy required telling in no uncertain terms, that to carry on a bachelor existence and assume a wife is happy with a house and all it entails was utterly cruel and unforgiveable. Who though, was brave enough to raise those points of order, not she, it would have to be Belle.

  Torn between his belief the less Elizabeth knew of his secret the better, and her and Belle’s dilemma, there was every likelihood he may in turn be committing a grave mistake and she quite believed her brother had lost sage mind. She really ought to return to Pemberley and attempt to introduce Elizabeth to notable persons, but his secret dalliances at Farthingly may indeed slip her tongue and cause greater harm than silence ever could.

  She simply could not lie to others, it did not fit well on her conscience, and she would like as not blab and land Fitzwilliam blessed Darcy in a pickle.

  What to do, what to do?

  Her thoughts were curtailed by a knock at her private sitting room and Riley then poking his head around the door. “Post Miss Darcy— from your officer friend. I removed it from the mail delivery and awaited opportunity to deliver it in person, thus directly from pocket and not by way of silver salver.”

  Her heart leapt at his news: “You are a treasure, Riley, though I do feel bad about secrets.”

  He stepped forth and delivered said letter. “There are times, miss, when the least others know the better.”

  “I thought that was sage once before and it landed me in trouble not to mention considerable heartbreak.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, and if you ever need an ear I am the epitome of discretion.”

  She laughed, and he smiled. “That is very thoughtful of you, but I think I learned my lesson and I will never countenance a repeat performance as that of a ninny-head again. But, if cause should arise and I ask you to write return to sender on future letters, will you do that, and without informing me any letters have arrived?

  “I will.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is there anything I can get you? Tea and biscuits, cake?”

  “If ginger cake is on offer with tea, then yes please to both.”

  “Ginger cake and tea it is, then.”

  With that Riley departed and closed the door. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece: four of afternoon, and feeling less secure in the little sitting room adjacent to her bedchamber she upped and fled to the bed where she settled to read her letter. Both bedchamber doors were now shut and thereby no one would enter without alerting her to their presence. Not even Belle entered a bedchamber unless given leave to do so. With sense of trepidation she eased the waxed seal aside and read the words on the neatly folded paper.

  ~

  Dear Georgiana,

  Your prompt reply was most cheering for a man confined to bed in what has become a dashed nuisance malady and unpredictable in knocking me sideways when least expected. It requires explanation to lessen any notion you may surmise as excuse for delay in letters, suffice to say I will enlighten you when we are better acquainted. To your allowance in correspondence to call you Georgiana, rather than Miss Darcy, is honour indeed, and I shall not take it as permit to closer engagement during supper at Farthingly. You are no doubt aware of the place settings and I utterly ignorant of who else besides father will be present, though in all honesty I am greatly looking forward to the evening and your company. In reference to your confession of preferring a more ladylike route through gateways than the leaping of walls on horseback, be assured I am a gentleman in every respect of riding in company with a lady and respecting her pace above my own. Therefore, would you oblige the honour of my escorting you for a ride at Farthingly Monday next, weather permitting? Unfortunately it will be my last day of stay in Derbyshire for a goodly while. The reason for asking in advance of the supper party, I had prior determined to set out for London this coming Saturday but shall delay on favourable intelligence and a welcome response. With regards to your shying away from the public eye and the overwhelming atmosphere of ballrooms and similar, if I say I sympathise you may view that as a ruse to join you in a secluded nook. I will not deny such an occasion of that nature would be favourable at a later date, though at present you may think it the mind of a bounder hell-bent on momentary pleasure. The latter I hasten to add is far from my bent whilst in the practise of re-mastering the art of courting the attentions of a young lady one feels inclined to know better. Unlike many of my fellow officers given to great show all things rowdy jollity and to the dance hey ho, I have found it increasingly difficult to redress the horrors of war and give sway to trivial pursuits. Does that render me a dreadful bore and unlikely candidate for the affections of a young and fair maid, albeit my every word is honest in deliverance? I would appreciate guidanc
e in the matter, and doubly appreciative of reply. Save, before I sign off, I will have you know my motives are honourable in every respect to your shy and honest confession. Please oblige in your tastes and pastimes, favourite flowers, sweetmeats, and other.

  Yours reservedly,

  James.

  c/o Chatsworth.

  ~

  She would stay put and pray her brother came to his senses quick sharp and lessened his visitations to Farthingly. He had a new and wonderful life before him, and she wished for the same from life. Perhaps James was the future— perhaps serendipity had played its part in their first introduction. Was it now down to her to embrace the notion he was exposing his inner self to alleviate her misgivings and yet, it would seem he was troubled by an affliction, but what could it be? She had heard tell of soldiers and naval personnel, young and old, who returned from war changed men. It didn’t bear thinking on what he may have paid witness to, or suffered. Not all scars were visible, as she knew only too well.

  Whilst his first letter had set her alight with sense someone had noticed her, his delay in reply had then set her at odds with the notion he was merely playing the game of tease for whatever amused him. After all, he was a guest at Chatsworth and only eight miles distant. But this letter spoke of deeper honesty, and a reply would be written. She would not be petty in delay to press a silly point of goose for gander nonsense. Not as one or two ladies of her acquaintance would be inclined, as happened one day due to presumed snub by a gentleman who was merely distracted by a fellow. The group of young ladies had then set out to snub him royally for an act he was unaware had caused offence. Belle had duly castigated them and they quickly came to their senses and Bingley, ever the gallant had brought the fellow back into the fold and dance cards were marked amidst giggles and much flirting.

  And oh how tiresome some of the young ladies met in London were, and dreadful in pandering to the each other with false affections, and if she never ventured there again she would not miss it. They had looked upon her as an oddity: the Darcy mouse who scuttles away with a book and charmless with it, she had heard said of her. It had hurt at the time, and Caroline Bingley had overheard and understood the pain of similar encounters and was markedly cutting to the young ladies. Fitz with a prompt from Caroline had agreed his little sister need not attend soirees if she chose not to, and instead she had enjoyed outings with Caroline of an afternoon in seeing the sights of London, but it was soon obvious Caroline’s overt interest was in Fitz not in companionship to his sister. And so to Aunt Catherine’s she had gone for a short stay, an unsatisfactory stay as it turned out for cousin Anne was taken poorly and retired to bed.