The sight of the two young girls ignoring the lady’s advice appalled him. The boldest pulled her bodice down, risking the exposure of her “assets.” Could this be how Georgiana acted when she was not in his presence? Had she tempted and taunted Wickham? Never could he conceive of his timid sister…
Blast!His misbelief that he knew his sister’s thoughts and inclinations had comforted him before her marriage. But how could that be the case? When had they talked of such things? When had he spent more than the minimum of time with her? He always had a ready excuse. The needs of the Darcy holdings required his full attention, or he was a busy man with important matters to oversee. What a fool he had been.
He wanted nothing more than to travel back in time before the elopement with the knowledge he had now. If only he had spent more time with Georgiana. If only they had enjoyed hours of conversation. If only he had taken her on outings to the park, theater, museums, or the opera. If only he had instructed his sister as diligently as the lady at the assembly had when taking the younger girls to task. If only he had kept Georgiana from the vile influence of George Wickham.If only…
Had he done so, he could have discerned any weaknesses in her character, any inclination toward taking the easy way out of her fear of being presented to society andthe Queen. He had no one to blame other than himself. Unlike the lady who took charge when she saw inappropriate behavior, Darcy had done nothing. Everything bad that happened was his fault. Disappointment with himself melded with the poor choices he had made. His priorities had been all wrong. He had not known it then, but he more than knew it now.
Undoubtedly, this lady would not let this single episode of discipline be the last. Oh, no! She would follow through. He paid attention as she continued to watch her sisters like a strict governess. He knew she would quickly address any further indiscretions that evening.
Sweeping the room with his gaze, he wondered about the father. Why had he not stepped in? Was he dead? What of their mother? Was she…?
He heard her before he saw her.
“Five thousand a year, maybe more. And his friend must have an estate even grander than Netherfield Park since he arrived in the carriage of an earl. And look at the fabric of his coat. Only the best for him. I would imagine at least ten thousand a year. I am all distracted.”
The same young woman who corrected her sisters attempted to quiet her mother’s exuberance. Her efforts were in vain. Darcy knew the mottled red creeping up the back of the young lady’s neck for what it was—mortification.
He felt her pain.
Bingley interrupted his thoughts.
“Darcy, I was about to come find you.” Bingley gestured toward the eldest of a small group of men. “Mr. Crosgrove says that Netherfield Park’s fences are in adeplorable state. Mr. Long said his servants drive my sheep back to Netherfield daily. Apparently, I have livestock roaming the countryside. What do you recommend? Repair the fences or gather the animals first?”
Sheep? They wanted to discuss sheep when his whole life was in turmoil. He forced himself to appear calm. After all, it was the least he could do for a man who offered him refuge.
As with any gathering of men, everyone had an opinion.
One of the men, Mr. Crosgrove, waited until the others danced with partners or wandered away after the decision was made to repair the fences before herding the animals back to Netherfield Park.
“Mr. Darcy, do I understand correctly that you are from the north? Is there a mining operation on your estate?”
His estate?Cautiously, not claiming ownership, he replied, “The mines where I was born and raised produce lead and coal.”
“Ah, I see. My wife saw a pillbox in the window of a jeweler in Town. When she inquired about the streaks of purple, yellow, and blue in the stone, the jeweler informed her it was extracted from Derbyshire.”
“Blue John is mined in Castleton, which is a few miles from Chatsworth. We have…” He cleared his throat.Weno longer had anything to do with the mines. “There are no veins found of Blue John on the land where I grew up. However, there are several magnificent pieces inside the main house. The library has a pair of lamp bases and a vase containing delicately inlaid work from a local artisan. My grandfather purchased them. I understand whythe stone appealed to your wife. The pieces are beautiful.”
“Yes, well, the trinket was quite dear, but we had a good harvest, and with the prices for grain higher than last year, I mean to ride to London tomorrow to see if it is still there. Eight and thirty years ago, after the corn harvest, I wed Mrs. Crosgrove. She has earned something she can show off to her friends for putting up with me all this time.”
Darcy grinned as he was supposed to. “She will be fortunate to possess the item and grateful that it was a gift from you.”
Mr. Crosgrove’s chest swelled. “My Martha, she was a shopkeeper’s daughter, and I was a third son with no expectations. During the first few years of our marriage, we decided that doing things together and coming to know each other was more important than gathering possessions that would wear out or go out of fashion. Keeping our lives simple was a grand blessing to us. Now and then, I like to purchase a trinket for her. She seems to enjoy it greatly.”
Darcy nodded, unsure how to respond. His life was anything but simple. There was nothing about his prior activities he did not relish.
“Young man, my Martha was not the first girl who caught my eye. In fact, I overlooked her for a time. Like your Blue John, Martha’s true value rested under the surface. Instead of seeing only her outer appearance, which is lovely, indeed, I asked her opinions on a multitude of subjects that interested me. In doing so, I found a treasure.”
If only Darcy had looked below the surface with Georgiana.
Pushing aside his turmoil, he said, “Your wife is fortunate to have a wise man as her mate, sir.”
“I only wish that were so, Mr. Darcy. It was not until later that I realized how she guided our conversations, steering me to subjects where we could agree and offering a reasonably explained opinion where we did not. She is the best woman on earth, and she is mine.”
Darcy appreciated the dignified way Mr. Crosgrove spoke of his wife. It said much about the character of the man.
The older gentleman was not done. “I noted how your eyes seem to follow Miss Lizzy.”
Heat filled Darcy’s cheeks. Mr. Crosgrove was correct. His eyes had been tracking the lady as she moved around the room, greeting her neighbors with a smile. There was no way Darcy could defend his actions.
