Seven
Darcy
Ituggedatmycravat, the starched linen suddenly feeling restrictive. Or perhaps it was the company that had me on edge. I stood in Matlock’s front hall awaiting the arrival of our eminent guests—Lord and Lady Belmont, along with their son, Lord Winston, and their daughter, Lady Lucilla.
My uncle emerged from his study, an uncharacteristically anxious look marring his usually stoic features. “Are they come yet?”
“The carriages have just entered the drive,” I replied. Before I could inquire further, a commotion at the entrance announced the newcomers.
I straightened my shoulders and schooled my features into impassivity. But inwardly, curiosity and uncertainty warred within me. Soon, I would stand face to face with one of the most influential men in England—and the father of the young lady my scatterbrained brother had suddenly professed to love.
Two footmen hurried forth to assist the descending visitors. First came a tall, distinguished gentleman I took to be Lord Belmont himself. His keen eyes surveyed his surroundings, taking in every detail. I felt rather like a specimen pinned on display as his shrewd gaze passed over me.
Lady Belmont emerged next, leaning heavily on her husband’s arm. She was still a handsome woman, though time had lent some softness to her features. She walked gingerly, a woman accustomed more to carriages than her own two feet.
And then, with a lyrical laugh that I could have picked out of a crowded ballroom, came Lady Lucilla on her brother’s arm. George sprang forward, eagerness propelling his long limbs into an ungainly scramble down the steps. He greeted Winston as if they were old friends—perhaps they were—and then, his eyes were all for Lady Lucilla.
“My lord, my lady, welcome to Matlock.” My uncle bowed graciously over Lady Belmont’s extended hand before turning to make the remainder of the introductions. As Belmont presented Lady Lucilla, I could not help but note the heightened color in her cheeks or the shy smile that hovered uncertainly until her gaze lit on George. Interesting...
Soon, we had all been conveyed within to partake of refreshments before the tour of the house and grounds began. As Matlock led Lord Belmont and his son, Lord Winston, to his study for cigars, I found myself observing my brother and the object of his infatuation. They made a rather mismatched couple—Lady Lucilla was petite, polished, and somewhat reserved, while George loomed over her, energy and enthusiasm pouring off him unchecked.
Yet she did not seem to mind his exuberance. Indeed, her reserve appeared to thaw whenever he spoke to her. She smiled readily, her pretty green eyes remaining fixed on his face in a most particular way. And though George lacked all subtlety, the affection in his looks toward her could not be mistaken.
I sipped my wine, watching in quiet astonishment. Never would I have imagined my directionless brother capable of wooing a lady such as Lady Lucilla. Still less likely was her returning his regard with equal ardor. It was baffling, and yet... Could George have found purpose at last in his pursuit of love?
“Come, Darcy, bring your glass.” My uncle stood in the doorway, beckoning. With a final curious glance at the young couple, I followed to join the other gentlemen, jerking my chin to summon George to follow me. But he merely gave me a shake of his head in return. Somehow, he had persuaded the countess to permit him to remain with the ladies as they took their tea.
That was no way to begin, if he meant to impress Lord Belmont. I sighed and simply followed my uncle. George could pave his own path to ruin.
Cigars and fresh glasses awaited us in the hazy confines of the study. His Lordship relaxed in an armchair, keen eyes following me as I entered. He wasted no time. “So, you are the elder Mr. Darcy I have heard of.”
I froze momentarily. Had he been discussing me with George? I dipped my head. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, sir, at your service.”
“Hmm, just so.” He drew slowly on his cigar as if considering how much to swallow. “Perhaps you did not know, but I met your father once.”
I raised my brows. “No, I did not.”
His Lordship waved a hand through the haze of his cigar smoke. “It was merely an introduction in passing. We spoke for less than ten minutes, but he impressed me as a man of quality.”
“That he was, my lord. I thank you for remembering him well.”
“Indeed. And what think you of this fanciful attachment between your brother and my daughter, Mr. Darcy?”
The question took me off guard. I had expected more banter and posturing, not such a direct query so soon. Carefully, I lowered myself onto the vacant chair across from his Lordship. “If the attachment brings them joy, then I can only wish them happiness. Although...” I hesitated, unsure whether complete candor would help or harm my brother. Lord Belmont raised one sardonic eyebrow at my unfinished sentence.
“Although you doubt young George’s constancy,” he finished bluntly. “No need to hesitate, Mr. Darcy. I am well aware of his reputation, and Winston knows him well. Women of a certain bluestocking ilk warned Lady Lucilla most fervently against him.”
I shot an uneasy glance at my uncle. He studiously inspected his cigar, but I could detect amusement twitching his mouth.
“My brother would admit that he… sowed a few wild oats,” I replied cautiously. “He has not always been the most constant of men. But his affection for your daughter has lent him more gravity of purpose than I have seen before.”
Lord Belmont let loose a barking laugh. “Gravity of purpose? By God, from everything I hear, any woman under fifty is in danger from George’s wild purposes. Still...” He leaned back, regarding me through half-lidded eyes. “My daughter sees something worthy in him. Who am I to argue? At her age, I stormed across Europe on a headstrong quest for love and glory. Both overrated, to my regret.”
I stared. Was one of the most powerful men in England truly implying his acceptance of George as a suitor for Lady Lucilla? Before I could assemble a reply, Lord Belmont had already turned the subject elsewhere.
“Winston tells me your property in Derbyshire is extensive, spanning the river valley.”
“Indeed, the estate has been in my family for several generations.” I swiftly composed myself to discuss crops, acreage, and architecture—safer topics, despite the ever-present wariness that His Lordship was assessingmeas much as my land.
