Page 14 of The Heir and Spare
He frowned as though she was no help. Which, in all honesty, she was too busy being entertained to assist. But as he fumbled his way forward with several excuses half-begun on his lips, she took a bit of mercy. “I think I heard that Lord Shackley plans to discuss our enjoyment with the men this evening. You do not wish Mr. Darcy to miss an opportunity to be paired with one of us.”
“Oh no!” She stepped back, nearly pushing him out. “Yes, I suppose we will all get a turn to be paired with you, no? Notsimply always the same woman?” The flitting gaze that washed over Lizzie felt less than friendly. It was not her fault at all that she’d spent time with the much sought-after Mr. Darcy.
He glanced at Elizabeth then dipped his head. “I do hope to be paired with those Lord Shackley deems compatible as well as have an opportunity to know you all better.”
She seemed mildly pacified by his response and turned from him as he bowed to the room in general, then with one last look at Elizabeth, exited again.
What had he been doing wandering the halls anyway?
Miss Vincent stood at her side. “I suspect Mr. Darcy would prefer your company above all others here.”
She raised her eyebrows but Miss Vincent had moved away. Where had that come from?
At any rate, they had finished their tea and were growing restless before the men joined them.
Servants followed, and tables for cards were set up in different corners of the room.
Lord Shackley announced whist and chess, and soon table groups were clustered around each game.
Mary moved toward chess and Lord Perceval was about to join her, but Mr. Darcy, in a barely polite manner, slipped in the chair opposite. “Might I enjoy the pleasure of your company, Miss Mary?”
She nodded and to her credit did not fumble through her response. “It would be my pleasure. How are you at chess?”
Elizabeth tilted her head, unsure what to think about that development. She did wish for Mary to continue such a good connection with Lord Perceval. What was Mr. Darcy trying here?
Chapter 8
Arthur Darcy
The next day, a footman delivered the mail to everyone on the back verandah. A surprising amount of people were receiving correspondence at the party. Arthur’s was from Georgiana, which was to be expected. She often wrote to him no matter where he was, for which he was grateful. It had not been easy to be her guardian—not because she herself was difficult but because he didn’t know the first thing about being a guardian. And now that she was mostly of age and become an interest to so many, he felt a greater responsibility. She wrote to Fitz as well, but for some reason the brunt of the harder decisions and the care fell more squarely on his shoulders. As with everything.
Miss Elizabeth also received mail; looked to be two letters. But not Miss Mary. She stood and left to the gardens, just off the steps of the verandah. When Lord Perceval moved to follow her, Darcy pocketed his letters and followed them both.
Miss Elizabeth stepped up to his side. “I can’t help but wonder at your interest in the gardens at this very moment.”
“Oh, I was…”
Her expression did not bode well for her reception to anything he said. She had the same suspicion he’d seen on her face earlier.
“I am offering myself as a chaperone of sorts for Miss Mary, if you must know.”
“And do you not think me capable?”
“Of course you are. I would assume. Though I noticed you also received mail and might wish to peruse it in quiet. I was merely offering my services in a most unobtrusive manner. I hoped you would not notice except to think that Mary would be quite taken care of?”
Her eyes softened and she nodded. “I am most grateful. There is an urgent nature about the hand of my sister, so I wish to see that all is well.”
He dipped his head. “Please. I have this well in hand. I am quite adept at frustrating the advances of young men who would wish a bit more intimate setting with young ladies.”
Miss Elizabeth watched him curiously but then nodded. “Thank you. I’ll join you momentarily.” She situated herself on a bench in the sun looking so at ease and so inviting he almost did not follow Miss Mary but her laughter soon motivated him to give the two a bit of company.
They grew quiet and so he picked up his pace through the gardens and at last stumbled into a walled-in garden of sorts, surrounded by hedgerows, with a fountain in the center. Miss Mary was standing close to Lord Perceval, her chin upturned, and the wastrel looked as though he was actually contemplating making the most of his opportunity.
With a not too subtle throat clearing from Darcy, Lord Perceval created some space between he and Miss Mary and offered her his arm. They murmured something together and then began a slow pace, walking side by side. Darcy made himself interested in that particular fountain and wonderedabout the rose arbor that he could see rising up above the hedgerow on the other side of the garden.
The fountain spread a thin mist in the air and the smell of the roses drifted to him in such a pleasant subtle way, he wished for a bit of company himself. Giggling from behind him was welcome, but when he turned there was no one in the immediate garden. They must have been walking by in another of the sequestered spaces. Lord Shackley had a beautiful situation. Arthur had something similar in Pemberley, but the whole property tended to be less structured and more wild. Which his father had preferred. But Darcy thought there might be space for a sculpture garden and some hedgerows. He corrected his thoughts. His new property would have space for something like that. He made some mental notes of what to ask the gardeners to plant.
At times Darcy was fine with leaving Pemberley. He was not the heir. He’d known that since birth. But all his efforts over the course of his life had certainly grown his attachment and feelings about how things were done at Pemberley. And to see his brother so seldomly engaged in any of the decision-making was of course a concern to Arthur.
