Page 30 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

“Mr. Darcy, it was a pleasure to meet your dear sister when she called a few months ago. I was sorry not to meet you when you came for her.”

“I arrived quite late that night.” Darcy recalled the bitter day. “Thank you for hosting her for such an extended period.” He knew from his sister’s tale that the Miss Bingleys had not found it anything like a pleasure to have his sister forced upon them. Georgiana’s day would have been nothing short of miserable if not for Miss Bennet, who had stayed with her until she slept, which is how Darcy had found her. He was again grateful a girl closer to his sister’s age had been present on that occasion.

As soon as his tea had cooled enough to swallow it, Darcy thanked the group and took his leave.

“It is time you made your engagement to my daughter official, Darcy,” Lady Catherine de Bourgh declared. “Now that you have secured Pemberley, you have a duty to ensure Rosings Park also remains in the family.”

“Nothing need be made official, Aunt, as we have no unofficial engagement,” Darcy said. “Forgive me, but I will not marry Anne.”

“It was your mother’s dearest wish and mine, Nephew! Your father would have accepted the marriage, in time, but now we need not wait.”

Darcy stood rigid before his mother’s sister, frustrated to hear this topic mentioned again. He had already told his family he and his cousin would not make a match. He and Anne had discussed it years ago, and his father had supported their decision.

“You will need to take someone to wife, Darcy,” his uncle, the Earl of Matlock, added. He and his wife were seated to Darcy’s right. His cousin the viscount, Lord Blakely, sat at his left and snickered at his father’s statement. Darcy felt like he was on trial.

“Blakely, why do you not marry Anne?” Darcy asked. “You are five years older than I am and need a wife and heir.”

Blakely’s face fell but brightened again when his father returned to the point.

“You have the guardianship of a child now, Darcy,” Lord Matlock said. “She needs the guidance of a woman.”

Darcy sighed. His uncle knew he wanted the best for his sister.

“Georgiana and I have already made plans that do not require me to marry in haste,” he said. “She wishes to return to school in January. After that, she will have a governess or companion until one of us marries.”

Lady Matlock nodded. “That is a sensible solution. Will you allow us to help you in choosing a companion?”

“Gladly. Richard and I have no experience in such things.”

“Why your father chose a young military man instead of her aunt as co-guardian for his daughter, I will never understand,” Lady Catherine objected.

“Yes, well, the deed is done, Cathy,” her brother soothed, not mentioning the restrictions placed on female legal guardians. “Perhaps his new responsibility will encourage Richard to leave the army and settle down, as well.”

“Not likely,” Darcy heard Blakely mumble, and he was inclined to agree. Darcy knew he was almost solely responsible for his sister, and he would do all he could for her, starting with sparing her witnessing a sham marriage to their cousin.

Darcy had thought he disliked balls before his father had died, but if his limited mourning experiences in town this month were anything to go by, he would like them even less now that he was not an heir but an estate owner. Women in bookshops, pastry shops, and even on the street approached him, bumped into him, and introduced themselves. Although he hated what his black armband and cravat symbolized, as he felt weak and disoriented when he thought of the loss of his father, he was glad for the excuse to escape social situations.

He sat with Bingley and Hurst once again at Grosvenor Street. He had successfully avoided Miss Bingley on most of his visits the past weeks. One other time, they had been forced to drink tea with the ladies. He now knew Bingley’s sister was of marriageable age and had decided to come out a few months early, despite being in mourning. Bingley had not understood his sisters’ explanations, but he had confirmed the change had occurred between meeting Darcy and seeing him again two days later. Bingley said he had convinced her to return to wearing black, if nothing else.

“Shall we see the location I propose we practice fencing, Darcy?” Bingley asked.

“Please. I have been too sedentary since coming to town.”

Bingley and Darcy had met about a year and a half ago at Angelo’s, but they were not going to the fencing school while in mourning.

Darcy exited Hurst’s study slowly, looking down the passageway in both directions to ensure no females were about. Hurst chuckled as he passed him.

“Good luck, my friend.”

They made it upstairs to the large parlor without incident, and Darcy relaxed. Early afternoon light streamed in through tall windows to reveal ample space for exercise. As he looked around the room, he noted little furniture and almost a dozen easels, as well as a long table, all cluttered with artwork and supplies. He approached to see paintings of varying skill and half-finished drawings spread on the table.

“Are these your sisters’ work?” he asked. Some of them were incredibly skilled: pastoral landscapes, children’s faces; some of them were simpler still lifes that could use additional polish and perhaps a few more lessons.

“The misshapen fruit and uneven bowls are Caroline’s work,” Bingley said.

“And the others? They are Mrs. Hurst’s?” Darcy asked without looking away from the scenes. He could easily imagine riding his horse over the hills and through the woods depicted in the landscapes.

Hurst laughed. “My wife does not paint.”