Page 1 of In the Eyes of Lord Lingley

Prologue

Viscount Lingley entered Longbourne House with some trepidation. His university friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was to marry a daughter of the house on the morrow, and he had heard much of the frankly appalling behaviors of the family. Darcy’s composure had been torn nearly to pieces during the season last, as he fought his attraction to his Elizabeth. He had seemed to be getting the better of it when he left for a fortnight to visit the family seat of his aunt in Kent. It had taken several hours and a bottle of his best cognac to pry the story from his friend.

Apparently, Elizabeth Bennet had also been visiting family in Kent! Who could have imagined such an unlikelihood? The Fates truly were cruel, or had a sense of humor, as he had said at the time. Darcy had borne his heart to the vixen and had it returned to him in tiny shards. This Elizabeth could apparently flay a man alive with only her tongue, and she had lambasted his friend to a cinder. Though if it were true that Darcy had separated her most beloved sister from that idiot Bingley, he could hardly blame her.

Darcy had retreated into business matters to attempt to patch together his bruised and bleeding soul. By the summer he was much changed; softer somehow — kinder. He had invited Lingley to Pemberley for the summer, which he had been tempted to accept, until he learned that that puppy Bingley and his entourage of harpies and that drunk Hurst were also to be part of the party, then he quickly found reasons to be unavailable at that time. Caroline Bingley— her very name was the stuff of nightmares for a single gentleman of good-breeding and tolerable fortune. A title? He would have been plucked, dressed, and made into soup before Darcy would have finished the title of viscount.

Lingley was surprised, but not shocked, when Darcy appeared suddenly, only a fortnight after he had left for Derbyshire. He assumed that the poor man was on the run from Miss Bingley, but it seemed that there was an even greater threat to his future happiness. That cad, Wickham, had run off with the youngest Bennet chit and was holding her ransom in London. He had joined Darcy and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam in scouring the slums and rookeries of the East End until they tracked the slimy snake to his hovel of a room just outside of Seven Dials. Darcy then did what he did best, though Langley doubted it would be any real help to throw more good money after bad, but nothing was to be done that the man did not do himself and within a sen’night, the child was wed to a scoundrel and Darcy was out at least ten thousand pounds, though he refused to acknowledge the true amount. Idiot. He ought to have saved them all the trouble and let Fitz kill the reprobate. He would have without even losing a wink of sleep, and as a soldier, it was not as if the Colonel was not well-trained in the art.

But it all turned out in the end. Bingley had his angel, Darcy his Elizabeth, and Lingley had avoided Caroline Bingley for another year, at least until the wedding. Darcy had begged him to stand up with him, and much as he would have preferred to take a swim in the sewage ponds instead, he agreed with ill grace.

And now, here he was, entering the Lion’s Den; the home of five single women, though one was lately married, he supposed, and two to trade the name Bennet on the morrow, so really, he need only worry about two single daughters… and Caroline Bingley. He groaned theatrically and knocked, sealing his fate.

Chapter 1

Lingley followed Darcy and his family from Netherfield, where their host, Bingley, had given them houseroom for the weekend. There had been an engagement ball on Saturday at Netherfield, a ‘family’ dinner at Longbourne Sunday evening, and now, despite the ungodly hour, the men were gathered outside of Netherfield’s doors, milling about in a crowd of excited neighboring gentlemen and what looked like a small flock of sheep and several cows.

Confused, he looked about for his friend, but before he could find him again, there was a shout and the crowd began to move toward the road, driving the animals before them, and Langley was swept into the fray. Eventually, he was tossed to the front where he found Bingley, bouncing along like the spaniel he was, next to Darcy who looked about as pleased with his sudden elevation to sheep-herd as Lingley had been the evening before as sole escort to one Miss Kitty Bennet. Though even she was better than his companion of the evening before— as the highest ranking gentleman, it had been his… honor to partner Miss Bingley for the opening set of the evening. He had told Darcy that he was demanding the tame mare he had brought from his stud as a wedding gift for his bride, in recompense for his sacrifice; Darcy was insistent that his Elizabeth learn to ride.

Shaking off his introspection, he realized that they were approaching Meryton, and the church, from the east in a sort of livestock parade. The streets were lined with townsfolk, all gossiping and pointing, and cheering for the grooms. Lingley was surprised that his friend bore it all so well as he did. Darcy did so hate to be the center of attention.

He saw ahead a crowd of mostly ladies, though Mr. Bennet stood proudly beside his daughters, gathered at the front of the village green. Silence fell as that gentleman stepped forward and began a very thorough inspection of the livestock with the eye of an Arab trader, calling out perceived flaws and advantages.

“This cow has a stained hoof, Mr. Bingley,” he cried, his voice carrying above the crowd. “Do you expect me to hand over my most beautiful daughter, the handsomest woman in all of Hertfordshire, for such little inducement as this?”

The crowd roared its approval, ribbing the young man further. Bingley, true to his nature, laughed along with it all and got down on his knee to wipe away the completely imaginary spot, earning cheers and backslaps. Jane was brought forward and given into his keeping. Then Mr. Bennet turned to the sheep and nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Are these—” he stumbled forward to run his hands through the wool and gasped. “They cannot be! Merinos? Where? How!”

Darcy’s stoic grin became more of a smirk. “Smugglers do not bring only good cognac across the channel. Our first pair was purchased in the year 90’. We call them Pemberley Saxons. They are bred with Shetlands to give them greater stamina in England’s wet climate. We have been building the breed for two decades and they have proved an excellent cross.”

Bennet tossed his hat high into the air and whooped with joy. “Five ewes and a ram! Can you imagine?”

There were several exclamations among the ladies of “Six! Unheard of!” “Six Cows!” which were highly confusing to Lingley as they were obviously sheep. The Bennet neighbors roared their approval as Mr. Bennet shook Darcy’s hand enthusiastically and then led a beaming Elizabeth forward to be handed over to him. A cry of “To the church!” rang out, and the couples were herded across the green to the handsome stone edifice, leaving the Bennet servants to drive the animals toward their new home in Longbourne’s fields.

The ladies blushed and looked pleased, and Bingley beamed. Darcy looked… long-suffering but in good spirits, and those closest to the brides and grooms entered the church for the actual nuptials while the rest of the gathering awaited them on the lawn.

“What was with the sheep, Darcy?” Langley whispered as they stood at the front of the nave, waiting for the ladies to appear.

“Later,” Darcy grumbled under his breath, his usual stoic mask firmly in place.

Lingley noted absently that with the brides’ mother and sister sat a dark little shadow. The woman clearly had no idea how to dress herself, and her small, pointed chin, pert nose and surprisingly sensuous mouth, were completely pinched in a rather schoolmarmish disapproval as Miss Kitty chattered on like a magpie at her side. He wondered if she was the child’s governess, as the drab, muddy brown gown that she wore spoke of a genteel poverty, or perhaps, like the druids of old, it was her hairshirt, he thought whimsically. The brides appeared just then, one on each arm of their father, drawing his attention as the wedding, which was almost boring in its conventionality after the hullabaloo outside, was finished in a trice.

The bridegrooms assisted their ladies into an open landau before throwing handfuls from several bags of coins out among the crowd. Lingley watched out of the way of the melee, but movement to his left drew his attention, and he turned to observe the little shadow slip away from her companions and disappear down the lane toward Longbourne and the wedding feast. His brows furrowed as he wondered who she might be yet again, but he was distracted from that train of thought by the strange twittering of some tropical bird, the only warning a gentleman received of the impending impalement of Miss Bingley’s talons into the soft flesh of one’s arm. The woman was maddeningly persistent, and no matter how much he pushed her away or how often he avoided her company, seemed to penetrate the delusion of her vanity. He immediately implemented defensive maneuvers by ducking between two rather large women and a man who was nearly as tall as he was wide.

“I swear, Louisa! He was just here!” Miss Bingley whined.

“He is not as tall as Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Hurst consoled her. “It is not nearly so easy to track him. You should have worn the feathers as I told you. It would be easier for him to find you in this crowd.”

“I just do not understand why he did not come to me as soon as the wedding ended! He has been so encouraging, and I am certain that he will propose before we all return to London.”

Lingley snorted to himself and hurried after the crowd at a fast clip, leaving the ladies to their delusions. Though he was not so tall as Darcy, as the ladies had noted, he had always had a wide gate and quickly caught up with the first of the crowd as they entered the drive and the house came into view. He was interested to note that the ‘Little Runaway’, as he called the mousy woman in his own mind, slipped through the front door, rather than circling the house to the servant’s entrance. Though perhaps the Bennets are lax with their servants, he pondered as he entered a few moments later.

He looked about as he handed over his hat and gloves to the footman in the entry, but the woman had already disappeared somewhere deeper into the house. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of his abstraction. Why was he so fixated on the identity of some spinster-in-the-making? He obviously was in need of occupation. He hoped they had good port!

Fitzwilliam appeared through the door and called out a greeting. “I am just arriving! I had hoped to reach the church in time for the wedding, but my horse threw a shoe outside Eastbourne. Thank you for standing up with Darcy for me.”

He laughed. “You make it sound as if you were asked! Darcy told me you would be hurt by his preference for myself.”