He felt as if he had reached a crossroads in his life—one path was pulling him towards a glittering career with a beautiful, witty woman at his side and the other…But this was ridiculous, there was no other path. His grandmother had made it quite clear to him that his duty was to propose to Miss Anne Darcy and thus establish himself in everyone’s eyes as an up and coming man.
Now there was Mrs Darcy, smiling and charming, Celeste Fiorette, exclaiming how much she had missed them both and a young girl with long dark ringlets and an innocent expression he didn’t believe for one moment, murmuring that she had heard so much about him and surely it couldn’t all be true.
Impatiently, he glanced round the room as Mrs Darcy continued to speak, apologising for her husband’s absence, asking after his grandmother, enquiring of Andrew as to when he was going to set off for his archaeological dig in Greece.
And then the door swung open again and Anne stood there, holding out her hand in welcome, her golden beauty lighting up the room like a flame, her bright blue gaze giving him a message he could not deny.
He bowed and bent over her hand and as he raised his head, over her shoulder he saw Jane—no hard golden beauty, just a slim, pale pearl whose downcast gaze told him nothing whatsoever!
Bennetta was intrigued—this was interesting—as greetings were exchanged, she noticed several things: that Dr Moore kept Celeste’s hand in his far longer than was proper and that although Archer Maitland bent over Anne’s with polite elegance, his smile did not reach his eyes. Yet when Jane stepped forward, head bent and whispered her greeting, his gaze was warm and friendly. Bennetta felt a quiver of anticipation—perhaps these weeks in London were not going to be as boring as she had imagined?
Elizabeth Darcy received the gentlemen’s compliments with a smile. “It is good of you to call, Sirs. Jane and Celeste have told me of your kindness towards them down in Dorset. Your attentions made their stay even more agreeable.”
Archer bowed in reply. “We were only too pleased to meet Colonel Fitzwilliam’s extended family and must apologise for not calling here as soon as we reached London, but Dr Moore is shortly to leave on his expedition to Athens and I have been assisting him with his preparations.”
Elizabeth raised a mental eyebrow! This was a very weak excuse; she couldn’t see how Mr Maitland’s help could possibly have been required. Surely, if he had been keen to see Anne again, he would have called earlier? Was her daughter wrong in her belief that she had caught this man’s attention? She was usually so sure of herself; could she have mistaken his friendship for something more?
“Has your grandmother joined you in residence in London, Mr Maitland?” Anne smiled at him, admiring the breadth of his shoulders and general appearance. There was nothing for her to find fault with in the way he looked and dressed. So many otheryoung men who had courted her attention had fallen short in that aspect.
“Indeed she has, Miss Anne. She has many friends in town and is, in fact, busy this morning returning calls.”
“Do, please, I beg of you, remember me to her.”
Archer bowed. “I am sure she recalls your meeting with pleasure.”
Anne turned away for a second as Dr Moore had picked up her book and was asking her a question about it. Archer crossed the room and sat down next to Jane who had chosen a chair as far away from the other group as possible.
“I find you in good health, Miss Jane? Fully recovered from all your Dorsetshire escapades?”
Jane felt heat rising in her cheeks and pretended to study her embroidery. She could not, would not, look up into those dark eyes. If she did she would be lost. And how terrible that would be—she could not possibly be in love with her future brother-in-law! It was unthinkable.
“Quite recovered, thank you, Sir. And yourself? I am sure you are glad to be back in the hustle and bustle of the law courts.”
“Indeed. I have new offices. I am extremely busy, which keeps my mind from wandering down other, more pleasant paths.”
“Escapades? I know you must be joking, Sir. Please tell.” Bennetta had overheard the one word. She joined their group and Archer immediately vacated his chair for her. “Jane is never involved in escapades. She is the quietest and most sensible of all us Darcy children and, indeed, of all our many cousins too.”
Archer’s mind flew back to an angry girl, her hat crooked, the feather askew, glaring at him from a carriage window, the same girl perched precariously on a steep slope, about to plunge to her death, the warmth from her body as he waltzed her round the room at Robyns and her bravery as she shouted down the drunken revellers at the Green Man.
“Sometimes we surprise even our nearest and dearest, Miss Bennetta.”
Jane glanced up—she had heard a tone in his voice that made her tremble. Nearest and dearest? What was he really saying? Oh why didn’t he just ask Anne to marry him and be done with it? He should not look at her with that expression in his eyes. Bennetta was as sharp as a tack; she noticed everything.
“Bennetta, have you told Archer of our plans for a dance?” Anne had crossed the room to stand at his side. “We have a beautiful ballroom here at Matlock House, Sir. Not as grand as that at Pemberley, of course, but it does very well for a small dance. I do hope you will be able to attend. And Dr Moore, of course.”
Jane looked to where Andrew and her mama were in deep conversation with a laughing Celeste. There at least was one man who seemed not the slightest bit affected by Anne’s charms. She just hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed when he heard of Celeste’s attachment to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was such a kind man; it was sad to think of him being anything but happy in life.
“I shall be delighted to attend.” Archer bowed in Anne’s direction. “As to Andrew, I am not sure. He leaves for Greece any day now and with the trip already sadly delayed, I know he will not wish to tarry any longer, even if it means giving up the delight of a dance with you charming ladies.”
Anne laughed and tapped his sleeve with her fan. “You turn a pretty compliment, Sir. I shall be delighted to dance with you.”
“And you, Miss Jane. Will you write my name on your card for a waltz? We both know that you are proficient at that particular dance.”
There was a silence. Jane knew her face had gone red and she struggled to keep her composure and answer sensibly, all the time remembering that magical night at Robyns.
“Oh you will be very lucky if Jane can spare you a dance,” Anne, irritated at losing his attention for even a moment, broke in with a light laugh. “A certain Mr Frobisher is back in town. A particular friend of Jane’s. La, there is no need to look shy and silly, Jane. You know Digby is your greatest admirer and, if I am not mistaken, you were broken hearted during the summer when you had that little argument.”
She tossed her head, her gold and garnet earbobs jingling merrily—“Really Archer, you have no idea what Jane put us all through this spring and summer. I have never seen two people so well suited who found it so difficult to admit the fact. But Jane, dear, you must let the poor boy know your true feelings. Being reserved and silent gives a suitor no indication of how he is to proceed. Why, as a jest, I once completely confounded Digby by pretending I liked him more than you!”
