“My cousin says they found some leverage to keep those buggers from cutting all the telegraph lines and supply routes. They capture the women and children, see, and the soldiers eventually lay down their arms to protect their families.”
Darcy’s stomach recoiled, and he froze in horror. He had been there himself, and still had not seen this. “You speak of the rules of war,” he hissed. “The women and children are innocents!”
“Come, Darcy, they’re not harming them. I hear they are treated quite fairly, but they are not free to go until their husbands and sons leave off this nonsense. Brilliant plan, I say.”
“It is barbaric. How should we claim to be any better than the enemy?”
“Now, do not turn moralist on me, Darcy. Think, man—the women and children are kept secure and protected. Far safer than living in a field of battle, I say, and they have plenty of food and good treatment.”
Darcy scoffed. “I will believe a report like that when I hear it seconded by those imprisoned.”
“And how many of them would die if the war dragged on? Better to take measures to end it, I say. War is not a pretty thing, Darcy.”
He tightened his mouth. “No. If you please, Bellamy, I have had enough talk of war to satisfy me for a lifetime.”
Bellamy straightened his lapels and cleared his throat. “Yes. Well… ahem. I hear talk that congratulations are in order at last, old boy. Will we be seeing the fair Miss de Bourgh this Christmas?”
Darcy released a taut breath. “Perhaps. The earl meant to see to some business in London, and she considered coming from Matlock at the same time.”
“Jolly good! I say, we are having a small gathering for Twelfth Night. Nothing elaborate, of course, and I know you have a dozen other invitations, but I hope you will consider joining us.”
“I should be very happy to, but naturally, I must discuss any plans with Miss de Bourgh.”
“Of course, of course. Well, been a pleasure, Darcy. I must be going, but do consider that invitation, will you?”
Darcy promised once more that he would, and even turned over the notion there on the spot… for all of ten seconds. Then he blew through his lips and decided he was not in the mood for cards that morning, after all, and called for his driver to take him home.
ThecharmsofTownhad faded quickly. That came as no surprise, but he was discouraged to find Georgiana no more enamoured of London’s distractions at Christmas than he was. If he could have at least amused her, it would have been something. Instead, both spent gloomy evenings by the fire or paraded their way through meaningless calls on acquaintances for whom they cared little.
One evening, Darcy was in a particularly sombre mood and found himself longing to read a bit of poetry. Cowper, to be precise. He could certainly see the appeal of the pastoral poetry for one such he had heard Elizabeth’s father to be. A simple man, a man who had spent a lifetime scratching out a living from a hard landscape and waking each morning to the glories of the great Wild.
When all within is peace,
How nature seems to smile;
Delights that never cease,
The live-long day beguile.
From morn to dewy eve,
With open hand she showers
Fresh blessings to deceive,
And soothe the silent hours.
It is content of heart
Gives nature power to please;
The mind that feels no smart
Enlivens all it sees,
Can make a wintry sky
Seem bright as smiling May,
