“Now remember your orders and do not dally!” the gentlemen heard, causing worried glances as the door opened.
“Ah, nephews! How good of you to come so soon!” Lady Catherine began, her voice bearing the false gaiety of one ready to make a demand. But just as quickly, the forced smile returned to its usual tight-lipped display of displeasure.
“Lord Matlock! What in heaven’s name are you wearing? Do tell me it is some manner of jest?”
Embarrassed, and for reasons he could not fathom, Fitzwilliam went mute, unable to answer. Fortunately, Darcy, quick as ever, provided a ready excuse, taking the blame as well. They had tried to alter some of Darcy’s clothing, but the disparity in physique had made such impossible. But with promises to have several items ready by the morrow, neither man had been concerned...until now. It seemed, that much like books, a man was also judged by his coverings.
“It is my fault entirely, Aunt. In his haste to arrive in town, I had my men fetch Matlock’s things, but unfortunately, they fell upon bad weather and the entire wagon was mired in mud. I believe they are still stuck somewhere outside of Leicester.”
“Mud? Leicester? What do I care about that? The Earl of Matlock must be properly attired if he is to be presented anywhere and I have already accepted several engagements on his behalf!”
“It has been addressed, my personal tailor has seen to that, but these things cannot happen in an instant...” Darcy continued, only to be cut off again.
“Hrmph! I suppose it must be tolerated; these rags are still better than that uniform!”
Having regained his tongue, and with it, a measure of anger at the insult to his profession, Richard Fitzwilliam held a hand up to stay any further discussion.
“Whatever engagements you have accepted, I fear you must attend alone. Mrs. Darcy will be seeing to my social calendar, and that, is final. However, if you wish to attend with us as a guest, I am quite sure that can be arranged.”
“Arranged! What does that girl know about arranging anything? It is bad enough that Matlock House was not prepared to receive me, yet another misfortune that requires my hand, and now, you will allow some.... upstart...to take charge of your debut? Are you mad? Your father will be turning in his grave!”
“Perhaps, but it changes nothing. People will talk, no matter what I do, but nor shall I stay in the house where my brother held his debaucheries, have you considered that, Aunt? Matlock house, once properly cleaned, will be sold, for I have no use for a place filled with bad memories. If you find it so agreeable, have your solicitor submit an offer. But until then, I plan to enjoy the hospitality of my cousin and his lovely wife, and whichever event Elizabeth decides to attend, I shall accompany.”
With that final word, the Earl of Matlock departed the room without a backwards glance, leaving a speechless but approving Darcy, to suffer what remained of her ladyship’s displeasure.
~Twelve~
Darcy and Fitzwilliam made the return journey in silence, for neither wished to discuss what had transpired. Yet, by some wizardry that would be well rewarded, a full complement of new clothes had arrived in their absence, with a note promising more, at more modest intervals, during the following week.
“That man is a wonder! He left but hours ago!” Darcy’s cousin declared, fingering the textured summer weight linen of the coat and vest. In addition to the main pieces, several fine shirts and an assortment of accessories had been included, right down to the small clothes.
“Marcus Hilton knows his trade, and I suspect he keeps several items ready for just such occasions,” Darcy replied, secretly promising to pay the man handsomely beyond his usual fee. Now, he could go about in company of a man who not only was the Earl of Matlock, but dressed the part. Although a bit of him would miss the threadbare coat, for it spoke of a man not concerned with trivial matters. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of society, and this was fit for a king.
“Whatever he does, I am grateful, even though it may bankrupt me.”
“Nonsense, but I must say, you do look smashing.”
Of this compliment, Richard Fitzwilliam took with a measure of embarrassment, for his cousin never lied, or exaggerated. But, would the ladies think the same? For this, he would have to wait until the following evening, where upon joining the party for dinner at Harrison’sand establishment known as well for its delectable meals as it was for its exclusivity. Sighing, he wastedno time in changing his attire, but it still felt strange, as if a door to the past was closing, unable to ever be opened again.
But by the time they departed the following evening, Lord Matlock had begun to grow accustomed to the feel of his new clothing, if not the appearance. In passing a mirror in the hall, he paused, nearly not recognizing the man that reflected. Having only ever indulged in a small hand mirror for shaving when in the field and a barber was unavailable, it was startling to see one’s entire form. But more unsettling was the approving look of Elizabeth Darcy. Oh! Why could she have not had a twin sister? A double in grace and charm as well as the more physical attributes? Then his quest would have been blissfully short, for his efforts would have been applied solely to winning her hand and heart. But alas, there was but one, and she was taken! Must he suffer to find a substitute? Even in the mere thinking of such, he knew it was wrong. A cruelty, to measure another against one that could not be had. Nor, was it right to covet his cousin’s bride, a lady, that had she known of his adoration, would be mortified, forever changing the friendship that had been developed. No, he must seek his future bride with an open mind, and he would, but only if she possessed good common sense and not an empty head filled with frivolity. After all, he had Redbyrne to consider. Whomever he married would be mistress there, an undertaking of serious proportions. In these thoughts he must have dawdled, causing comment for the reason.
“Ha’penny for your thoughts?” Elizabeth inquired, donning her bonnet carefully to not disturb her maid’s efforts.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I suppose I am just so accustomed to seeing the uniform that it all seems a bit strange.”
“Indeed, you have been through quite a lot already and I fear, there is more to come,” she replied gently, laying a hand ofcomfort upon his arm. She knew all too well what it had been like to be on display, waiting for the censure of strangers. But she had survived, and so would he. By now, Darcy had joined them, his eyes questioning. “Why so glum? Are we not to join friends and dear relations for what promises to be an excellent dinner?” he inquired, not truly expecting an answer as he herded them out the door. Harrison’s was just the place for Lord Matlock to quietly step into society. There, he would be seen, but have no requirement of greeting anyone. Earlier, it had been agreed that everyone must try to utilize the new title, in lieu of the comfortable ‘Colonel Fitzwilliam’, for that man was soon to disappear forever.
*****
At that same moment, Jane and Charles Bingley were also preparing to depart. Settled in a lovely townhome less than a mile away, it was still a fashionable part of London, albeit somewhat less in terms of expense. It was a life that suited them both, despite Bingley’s additional desire to purchase an estate, something that Jane also relished, but for the simple reason that it would make the presence of Bingley’s unmarried sister less frequent. Caroline Bingley, having declined to accompany them to dinner, had expressed her disdain openly.
“I am not about to be the ‘extra’ simply to make numbers even,” she declared with a snort of derision when informed that Darcy’s equally unmarried cousin would be in attendance. Miss Bingley’s acquaintance with the man she only knew as Colonel Fitzwilliam, was limited to the knowledge that he was but a younger son, and with no fortune to speak of. Therefore, it made him insignificant in her mind. Instead, she would dine in the company of several old friends, all unmarried women, wheregossip would rule the evening alongside copious amounts of wine.
“Suit yourself,” her brother had replied, but was unable to hide his smile of satisfaction. By some miracle, the knowledge that it was this same cousin, now the Earl of Matlock, had escaped her notice. Nor, did either Jane or Bingley intend to rectify that deficit, preferring to witness the shock when discovered, as well as the wrath for having withheld the information. How quickly would Miss Bingley’s opinion change when the unwanted bachelor was now the most eligible man in London? Of late, his sister had paid more attention to gentlemen that formerly, had not met her exacting standards. Standards, that with each passing year, slipped even further, but never to anyone in uniform or without fortune. Stifling his amusement, Bingley merely wished his sister a pleasant evening, saying no more. Indeed, it would be a most entertaining surprise.
~Thirteen~
Harrison’s, having been established on one of London’s main thoroughfares, was a rarity, in that it boasted a long covered portico in which diners were able to escape the often heavy downpours without so much as a smudge. This was fortunate, for the skies had opened just minutes before the parties arrived.
