“No, and it would take away from your time with Moira,” Elizabeth agreed, receiving a disapproving glance from her husband. Having been coerced into this matchmaking, Darcy was not pleased with his level of involvement. It was one thing to make introductions, then allow any natural course of events to manifest, but this was pure interference for one’s own gain. It felt like a betrayal, but as to who was the potential injured party, he did not know. In the end he agreed to do his part, and if nothing else, serve as a sort of chaperone for Miss Talmadge, should the young lady find herself in company that was less than respectable in behavior. Perhaps it was necessary to know the identity of her interest, and tonight, in his own home, it would surely be revealed if the man in question were present. Elizabeth’s guest list, comprised of those Miss Talmage had shown favor with multiple dances, was precious little to rely upon. But, the current leaders for her affections clearly werethe two younger sons of the Duke of Marlborough. The heir, already safely married, was out of contention, no doubt one of the reasons Lady Drummond found Matlock so appealing. At present, there were few men of his rank seeking a bride, nor, were they of a reasonable age in comparison to Miss Talmadge’s tender seventeen. Greater disparities had often wed, but generally with extenuating circumstances. Ariana Talmadge was not only young and beautiful, with charming manners and wit, she was also intelligent, a mere bonus to her thirty thousand pounds and high-reaching connections. In truth, no less than an Earl or Duke would do. However, all of this was mere speculation until Elizabeth spotted the young lady upon the upper veranda, deep in flirtation with Marlborough’s youngest son, a man of twenty, and without title or lands.
“Oh dear, she would want that one,” Elizabeth sighed as she stood beside her husband in contemplation.
“Indeed, Lady Drummond would never allow it, even though he shows great promise. Top marks at Cambridge...in Law, and spends much of his time observing Parliament when in town,” Darcy replied, finding no fault of his own. Had his young sister shown interest in such a man, he would not have objected. But then, he no longer based a person’s worth upon birth and fortune alone. That, had been far too disappointing.
Lord Matlock, taking full advantage of the arrangement, had been happily engrossed in conversation with his own favorite lady. Having discovered a mutual passion for horses, they had been discussing the disadvantages of the required use of the sidesaddle.
“In Ottawa, it was our choice, and with no censure. The Natives, men and women alike, ride with excellence, wearing soft buckskin leggings. Arthur, he had a pair made especiallyfor me...” Moria Blackpool revealed. It was the first time she had mentioned her husband, now in his grave nearly four years, and Matlock detected a softness to her eyes, but harbored no jealousy. It would be foolish to be envious of a dead man, for one could never fight a memory and expect to win. Instead, he dared to take her hand in comfort, caring not who saw the act.
“You must miss him terribly.”
“At times, but the pain is no longer sharp,” she replied, her gaze now upon him alone.
Unfortunately, it was not to last, as a liveried servant interrupted, whispering in his ear before handing him a sealed note. It was not from his regiment, as one might expect, but rather, an urgent message from his steward, at Redbyrne.
“I shall leave you to some privacy,” Moira Blackpool offered, but he begged her to remain, for if what he hoped eventually came to be, she would need know all of his personal affairs. Breaking the seal, he quickly scanned the neat, precise handwriting, finding the contents equally precise, but doubly unpleasant. Frowning, he refolded the paper and addressed the servant.
“Offer the rider some refreshment and a bed. It is too late to take to the roads now, but I shall prepare a response for the morrow....and please let Mr. and Mrs. Darcy that I would like a word.”
The request, met with a curt nod and bow of acceptance, sent the footman on his way, leaving Matlock to explain what was clearly distressing news.
“Is it the militia? Have you been called to duty?” Mrs. Blackpool inquired softly, her voice betraying an emotion that demonstrated feelings beyond mere friendship. As the widow ofa soldier, she had been forever prepared for the worst, but as Matlock smiled wryly, knew it had not come to pass.
“No, but rather another sort of pest.... It seems that my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, did not return to her home in Kent as we hoped. Instead, she has ensconced herself at Redbyrne, along with a few undesirable companions and is now making my entire household miserable.”
“Oh dear...I can only imagine,” she replied, for indeed, the prospect of one as formidable as her own Lady Drummond taking control of her home was horrifying, and if not immediately stopped, would undermine his authority indefinitely.
“I fear I must return home at once.”
“Indeed, if only there was some way I could be of assistance?” she ventured, knowing it could not be.
“If possible, I would have you accompany me,” he dared, making his intentions known, feeling his face flush with the realization.
“If only there were a way...” she agreed, but said no more, for this was hardly the place for such things.
However, the invitation, left hanging in the air, came to a realization hours later. After all the guests had departed, the matter was discussed. Having promised to send word of his plans to leave London, the farewell had caused him pain, for now, Matlock knew that Moira Blackpool returned his affections. As to what extent, time would tell, but not if they were apart.
“I must go immediately North, and prevent Aunt Catherine from turning my estate sideways, if she has not managed to do soalready,” he insisted, allowing his anger towards their shared relation to show.
Darcy and Elizabeth, each having read the letter, were in agreement, but Mrs. Darcy did not see the departure as a disruption to the fledgling courtship. If anything, it was providence, and had Lady Catherine realized that this would be the effect of her interference, she might well have chosen to go home.
“If she has invited the Westlakes, that can only mean one thing, that she has formed some manner of alliance with Lord Westlake in regard to Lady Gloriana.”
“But Aunt Catherine claimed to disapprove of Gloriana as much as I do.”
“Things change, especially if the young lady is agreeable. I suspect your aunt has given her reason to believe that you will honor your brother’s marriage contract.”
“Not in my lifetime!”
“I should think not, but if there is no other present to suggest your affections are elsewhere...well, Catherine de Bourgh is nothing but persistent. And more so...I do not trust her. She has been denied twice, first by Darcy and myself, and most recently, her own daughter. It may be that she is planning some sort of compromising situation.”
“God’s teeth! As much as I hate to say so, I believe you, but what is to be done? If I am to return north, I should also take the time to report back to my regiment. Half of my allocated six months has already passed. I would like to know if an appropriate replacement has been found to take my commission.”
“Indeed, that is only right,” Darcy agreed, but knew that any continued absence would only make matters worse. However, Elizabeth raised a delicate hand to silence the gentlemen, her eyes twinkling with promise.
“I believe I may have a solution...” she began, and seeing the immediate relief upon Matlock’s face, continued unabated. “The season is all but finished, and many, much like ourselves, require a respite from the lingering summer heat, as well as the large crushes of people. Redbyrne, as your home, would provide a wonderful escape.”
“So just go home?”
