“A crowd? So much so that you have now been reduced to the role of housemaid?” he inquired, his voice but a whisper should he be overheard. This was not exactly how he imagined seeing her again, but to his embarrassment, Moira Blackpool merely laughed. A trilling, honest laugh, not some contrived response to some dull attempt at amusement.
“As a poor relation, now chaperone, I have varied duties. Today, it is the door, but do not fret for me, for it allows an escape from the tedious nature of young men all vying hopelessly for the same hand.”
It was a lighthearted admission, and one that provided its own hope to Matlock and Elizabeth, for it meant the attentions of Miss Talmadge would not be consumed by the presence of an Earl. And indeed, when they entered the parlor, it was to discover Ariana Talmadge surrounded by admirers whilst her grandmother looked on with obvious boredom from a short distance. But as expected, although something to whichhe still disliked, all conversation ceased when Mrs. Blackpool announced the arrival of Mrs. Darcy and the Earl of Matlock. Worse, was the quiet disappointment in the eyes of the other young men, realizing they could not compete with such a title.
“Do not stop on my account,” he insisted, bowing to the ladies as Miss Talmadge rose to greet him, a man whom all expected was yet another admirer.
“Lord Matlock, what a surprise!” the young lady declared sweetly, but Elizabeth noticed her eyes dart towards Moira Blackpool, who had resumed her place beside Lady Drummond.
“Mrs. Darcy had a desire to visit with your grandmother and insisted I accompany her, knowing what a pleasant time we shared at your ball.”
It was a falsehood of the highest order, but Ariana Talmadge took his proffered arm and escorted him about the room, making introductions that he promptly forgot. To Elizabeth, it was rather like a parade of peacocks, each ready to fight to the death for one smile from the prized hen. But of this, she could not take part and joined Lady Drummond in silent appraisal, wishing she could overhear the conversations. However, Emma Drummond was a commanding hostess, and with one eye upon her charge, boldly began her inquiry of the newcomer.
“Mrs. Darcy! It is long overdue that we become better acquainted, is it not? I have heard much about you and Darcy; a love match they say, how interesting! Do tell me all about it whilst Lord Matlock tries his hand....”
~Nineteen~
Afterwards, and well beyond the planned duration, Elizabeth and Matlock departed, each heaving a sigh of relief as theyrelished the private confines of the enclosed carriage.
“How is it that we managed to remain for nearly two hours? I feel as if I have been through an interrogation!” Elizabeth declared, relaying some of the countless questions that had been launched against her. Having always prided herself in the art of evasion when it came to private matters, she had to admit, Lady Drummond put her husband’s aunt into the pale when it came to making demands. Mimicking the old woman’s voice, Elizabeth repeated the inquest, filled with thinly veiled insults masqued as compliments.
“I am well acquainted with your husband’s aunt Catherine de Bourgh, as well as the late Lord Matlock. Of them, I cannot say much in the way of approval, especially Edward Fitzwilliam. He was a rake of the worst kind. But... I have also heard, that the current Lord Matlock, like yourself, is a different sort. Honorable...Moira tells me you recently bore your husband an heir, is that so? Mrs. Blackpool also has a son...”
She was sure to mention that, but only when you came within hearing,” Elizabeth added, returning to her normal voice, now tinged with disgust.
“I know, and it bothered me, but only because she wished to use the boy as some sort of deterrent. If anything, I find Lady Drummond to be the biggest deterrent to forming any connection to that family. One domineering auntie is quite enough. Can you imagine her and Aunt Catherine having to spend holidays together?”
“Spare us all the misery! But that aside, you did spend quite a bit of time with Ariana Talmadge, do say you did not give her any false impressions.”
“No, I did not, she never gave me the chance. For a girl of her age, she is rather astute. I tried the regular small talk, but she cut me off cold, saying she was aware that I only had eyes for her chaperone, and besides, she found me ‘too old’. Can you believe it! I am not yet five and thirty! Most people would find that age in a man, to be perfect for marriage.”
“Indeed, they would, but I can understand her position,” Elizabeth replied, then said no more.
It was easy to admit these things to Elizabeth, but there were other aspects of his conversation that he did not share. Miss Talmadge, whilst not providing a name, had indicated that she too, had her heart set upon someone. Someone, that did not necessarily meet with her grandmother’s approval. Or, to be entirely correct, someone that did not measure up to an earl. However, Miss Talmadge had also implied that the mutual knowledge could be beneficial to them both. Even now, her suggestive voice rang in his ears.
“It seems, my lord, your thoughts are elsewhere, as are mine, but perhaps we may yet be of use to one another....”
It had made him uneasy, for to enter any sort of ruse with a girl that age, could end in unfortunate consequences. Yet, without some manner of assistance from that quarter, how was he to arrange any further meetings with Moira Blackpool? It was clear that Lady Drummond wanted him for her granddaughter, not some poor relation. Or to be completely honest, the old woman wanted his title, the man hardly mattered. But he had made no agreement of any kind, but merely nodded before handing Ariana Talmadge back to her bevy of much younger admirers, receiving one last whisper of encouragement.
“Go to her... and let my grandmother be damned.”
And he had, spending a bittersweet hour in Moira’s company, a company that was constantly interrupted by Lady Drummond’s demands. All he could do was issue sympathetic glances and the occasional smile, until the subject of children was brought, piquing his anger at the suggestion that Francis Blackpool was a burden to his mother, or somehow made her less desirable. The comment had left a sour taste in his mouth, one that kept him silent for the rest of the way home as he perused what Miss Talmadge could possibly arrange.
Lady Emma Drummond also reflected upon the morning’s contingent of callers, for her granddaughter had taken to her chamber once the last of them had departed.
“I do not wish to discuss any of them, it has given me a headache,” Ariana had insisted, and marched directly above, leaving her grandmother most displeased.
“Spoilt, but not for much longer,” the old woman spat, blaming everyone but herself for the girl’s stubbornness. Richard Fitzwillliam was not who she would have ordinarily chosen, but a countess! Well, that was something worth considering over those others, title aside. At least she would not be able to walk all over him, and as for the man’s obvious interest in Moira, that was just laughable! A mere flirtation that would soon end, when both realized the impossibility of anything coming of it. No, it would be Ariana who would become the Countess of Matlock....
~Twenty~
For the next month, and happily so, it seemed that most of the social engagements attended by the Darcys and the Earl of Matlock, somehow, managed to include not only Miss Talmadge, but her chaperone. Of Mrs. Blackpool’s increased presence, it was explained away as due to Lady Drummond’s sudden indisposition.
“Grandmother’s gout has flared up, and the doctor has insisted she remain home, with her affected limb upon a cushion. It has made her rather impossible, but she refuses to follow his advice as to the cause,” Miss Talmadge revealed privately on the evening that Elizabeth hosted the first dinner party at the Darcy residence. It was an informal affair, with no designated seating or set meal time, but consisted of a buffet, where one might assuage any hunger when desired. This plan had been deliberate, for it allowed a mingling of the guests instead of forced polite conversation with a disagreeable seat partner. Far too often, she had personally suffered by the attempts to balance the table, resulting in placement beside someone whose manners were that of a goat, but by necessity, had been issued an invitation. Of late, this practice had left the highly desirable Lord Matlock surrounded by simpering twits whilst Mrs. Blackpool was left to the ancient dowagers. But tonight, the pair might dine where they chose, keep one another’s company for as long as they desired, and without censure.
Matlock had been delighted to hear of this arrangement, for despite Miss Talmadge’s magical efforts in managing to appear alongside her chaperone at various shared events, there had been precious little opportunity for him to truly speak with the lady that continued to draw his heart. Only during the now regular ‘happenstance’ meetings at the Royal Museum, did theyhave any real time alone. Museums, as well as art galleries, were places where one might casually meet and have privacy, yet be considered public, therefore, making no error in propriety. With their long, open areas, a couple could stand before an object for nearly an hour, pretending a deep admiration, or critique, yet all the while, secretly courting. And the presence of a small child made it all the easier. Francis Blackpool, at but four years of age, was old enough to have his own interests, yet remain oblivious to adult conversation around him. Oftentimes, Miss Talmadge would disappear, making the excuse of desiring to see a particular exhibit, no doubt seeking her own liaison. Of that person’s identity, none would speak, but Matlock, with the assistance of Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy, did their best to identify.
“I cannot watch her all the time, it would create a stir of its own,” he admitted after seeking their help.
