Page 52 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“May I escort you to your family?”
Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm. Out of two evils, he was definitely the most palatable choice. “You may,” she replied firmly. “Thank you for your timely rescue, Mr Darcy.” She did not deign to award Mr Campbell with so much as a glance, but the girl called Millie was looking at her with narrowed eyes. “I am sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologise for. It is Mr Campbell who should apologise to you,” Mr Darcy replied with feeling.
“Of that there could be but one opinion, but I was not speaking about that rake. I was apologising for occupying so much of your time.”
“It is my pleasure to be of service to you. I can assure you that I have nothing better to do,” Mr Darcy protested.
“I beg to differ,” Elizabeth replied, nodding discreetly at the young ladies who were following them with their eyes. “I have received askance glances and narrowed eyes since accepting your arm. You have created quite the stir tonight. I believe Miss Millie is particularly miffed. She is believed to be the chosen one and expects a caller on the morrow.”
Mr Darcy bowed his head and looked anything but happy. He escorted her to her family and left the dining room so quickly he must have been desperate to escape her company. She did not know where he went, but Mr Campbell made no reappearance neither during nor after the meal.
It was to be hoped that her jest about ladies had not injured Mr Darcy. The gentleman reverted back to his former habit of stalking the outskirts of the party when he was not poised in a corner with his hands clasped behind his back. With the scowl he was wearing, no young miss dared approach him.
Chapter 17 The Festive Season
Lord Glentworth declined Lord Limerick’s invitation to spend the festive season in town. It was no secret to Elizabeth that her father hated London, but he need not consort with anyone outside their family circle, which rendered his obstinacy bordering on the ridiculous. Not to mention he further angered the marquess, who wore a thundercloud over his head when he read his nephew’s letter.
“It appears that we have no choice but to celebrate Christmas at Longbourn,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “But mistake me not. By Twelfth Night, we shall all be gathered in this house. Including your recalcitrant son.” He scowled over the letter at his sister.
“Certainly, Henry,” she agreed.
Elizabeth saw the uncertainty flickering across her grandmother’s countenance and sought to appease her.
“He who lives to make sport for his neighbours, and laugh at them in return, will not lack entertainment in town…”
With the implication that the entire family would join them in London after the festive season, completing the refurbishing became an urgent matter. The next two weeks were spent finishing the family rooms and shopping for gifts. Most of their acquaintances had left to spend Christmas at their country estates, so there were hardly any social obligations. They left for Longbourn on the twenty-fourth and enjoyed a lovely family dinner. The days in between Christmas Day and the new year were delightfully spent playing games and cards and eating well beyond what was necessary. But a storm was brewing. Uncle Henry was becoming restless, and her grandmother became more uneasy with each passing day.
The Gardiners left on the second of January, but due to Charlotte’s wedding to Mr Collins on Thursday the ninth, the Glentworths wished to stay beyond Twelfth Night and leave for town on the tenth.
Charlotte came to say her goodbyes on Wednesday. She entreated Elizabeth to write often and consider visiting Kent as she was unlikely to return to Hertfordshire soon. Sir William and Maria were to go in March, and Charlotte suggested Elizabeth might join them if she liked. Elizabeth did not refuse but neither did she make any promises as she foresaw little pleasure in a visit to Mr Collins’s abode.
Charlotte and Mr Collins were wed on a frigid morning. The bride and groom set off to Kent from the church door, and everybody had as much to say on the subject as usual. After half an hour of gossip on the church steps, frozen fingers and toes forced the Longbourn residents to make a hasty retreat. Whilst everyone fought for a place closest to the warmth of the fire, Uncle Henry reminded them to finish their packing. They would leave for town on the morrow, at first light.
“You may go on without me,” Lord Glentworth proclaimed.
“Out of the question!” Lord Limerick boomed. “You can no longer delay fulfilling your responsibilities.”
“I loathe the peerage and have no wish to join the scheming miscreants,” Lord Glentworth growled.
Elizabeth regarded her obstinate father, who looked inordinately vexed.
“Perhaps we should continue this discussion in your book room?” the marquess suggested with a nod at the ladies.
“You can have nothing to say to me that cannot be voiced with my family present,” Lord Glentworth retorted.
“Then allow me to remind you that I am a member of that peerage you deem so unworthy,” replied Lord Limerick.
“By merit, not by an undeserved birth right,” Lord Glentworth contradicted. “The two do not compare.”
It was true. The Marquess of Limerick had once been the son of a protestant bishop who was elected to the Irish Parliament. Upon his father’s death in 1794, he had inherited his barony and taken his seat in the Irish House of Lords. After the untimely death of his wife, he made politics his career and held such offices as Keeper of the Signet and Privy Seal of Ireland, Clerk of the Crown, and Hanaper of Ireland.
Following the Act of Union, he became a representative peer in the British House of Lords. As a renowned Unionist, and a close friend of the Prince of Wales, he was awarded the newly created earldom in 1803. When King George’s illness made his son Prince Regent, the long friendship earned him the elevation to marquess.
“I can say the same for you. You have earned your place in the House of Lords. I expect you to honour the obligations that I have bestowed upon you.”
Lord Glentworth blinked. His uncle was a fierce debater who was never at a loss for words. Elizabeth was impressed that he had made her stubborn father waver in his obstinacy, but it was not so strange; there were few people her father liked, and even fewer he respected, but the Marquess of Limerick was one of them.
