The Trouble with Mr. Darcy (31 page)

“True, but he may have sought him out. That would not surprise me in the least as Wickham has ever conspired and schemed.”

“Exactly my point, Richard.”

“But, Darcy, remember that Lizzy was unsure. We must consider that.”

“Yes,” George interjected, “but Elizabeth is not a woman prone to flights of fancy. She saw something that triggered the Marquis’s name, even if her subconscious has submerged the stimulus to that impression. I trust her instinct enough to claim caution, no matter how extreme the likelihood of these two men collaborating.”

“That is all I am asking at this point.” Darcy nodded, his face relaxing ever so slightly.

“We shall assist in watching over them, Son. Georgiana as well, so have no fear in that quarter. As the colonel pointed out, a veritable sea of soldiers roam the premises. It would be sheer insanity to attempt even the slightest mischief.”

“I can offer more than that. I have connections despite my retirement. Certain men I know who are highly qualified to undertake a spy mission and would leap at the opportunity for adventure and intrigue. I will send a message immediately and with luck you will have profitable information within a fortnight.”

“Thank you, Cousin.”

Richard inclined his head. “Pleased to be of service. Fortunate for you I have not completely lost my edge or forgotten my expertise. My ego is boosted to be indispensable again. You owe me,” he concluded with a smug grin.

Darcy grunted. “I am sure the tally is in my favor, Colonel. But I will concede one point as you have given me an idea. I will write to Mr. Daniels. He can quietly investigate Orman and Wickham, through legitimate channels, unlike how your ‘spies’ will undoubtedly go about it.”

George laughed. Richard merely shrugged noncommittally.

Those tasks accomplished, there was nothing further for the three to do but maintain a cautious vigilance. No alarms were raised and no hints of unrest were allowed to disturb the joyous celebration. Not for the world would any of them wish to distress Miss Kitty’s special event.

Shortly before noon, the crowd of witnesses converged upon the Meryton church where the eldest Bennet daughters had been married. The nondescript church was beautified with early spring blooms exuding a pleasant scent into the cool air, green vines and ribbons twined together were hung for additional color, and tall spermaceti wax candles lent a soft glow. The groom stood tall and majestic in formal military attire, the mass of ribbons and medals adorning his chest unable to vie with the proud expression on his face. The bride wore a gown of palest rose with accents all in shades of grassy green, softly woven muslin and lawn drapes that emphasized her curvy figure while maintaining proper modesty. She was a vision, and Randall nearly fainted from lack of oxygen before remembering to breathe!

Alexander walked in front of his aunt scattering rose petals with a studied precision humorous to observe. Laughter rippled, finally eliciting a shy smile from the serious boy, who dashed to the comfort of his father’s lap the instant the last petal hit the carpeted floor.

The sacred vows were exchanged, ring placed on the bride’s finger, and chaste kiss bestowed in a short, traditional ceremony that was nonetheless lovely and moving. The matrimonial binding of a beaming and lovely Katherine Bennet to a smiling and handsome Major General Randall Artois concluded without incident

The undisputed happiness and love surging forth from the bride and groom was adequate to allay most of Darcy’s fears. As when sitting in the audience during Mary’s wedding, Darcy held on to his wife’s hand, absently fondling the diamond and sapphire ring on her third finger while he mentally replayed their wedding, one of the happiest days of his life. Alexander sat protectively on his lap, and Michael was secure at Netherfield with the other children too young to attend the ceremony. Georgiana sat sandwiched between Lizzy and Richard. Taken altogether, Darcy relaxed tremendously.

Plus, it was amusing to note George Wickham’s discomfort.

The number of soldiers of varying ranks perpetually rose higher as the morning progressed until there was practically a whole military company inhabiting Netherfield! Lydia brazenly flirted with the red-coated men, her coquettish nature and penchant for military gentlemen obviously not diminished despite her marriage. Or perhaps she missed Wickham wearing a uniform. Whatever the case, it was appalling to witness but also amusing to observe the increasing glower upon Wickham’s face.

Darcy’s expression never changed from his usual serious politeness, but his muscles eased in the satisfaction of Wickham’s irritation. Eventually the latter collected himself, his native charm and ease overcoming his vexation. He remained unobtrusive for the most part and did not approach Darcy or his immediate family, but did a fair amount of his own flirting.

The wedding breakfast exceeded all expectations. Netherfield’s kitchen staff performed brilliantly with an array of delicious dishes leaving none wanting. As expected for such an occasion, happiness and laughter abounded. None, of course, felt as joyous as Randall and Kitty.

“Where did you say you were spending your wedding night?”

“I never said and would not divulge that information even if you applied a hot poker to my skin!” Randall answered his brother Roland’s seemingly innocent query with a laugh. “I shudder to imagine what you jokers would spring on me as a special wedding gift.”

All five of the Artois men wore wounded expressions, Reginald speaking for all of them. “We are deeply grieved that you would accuse us so, Brother. We are universal in our delight at your happiness and only wish to bestow our blessings upon your union in the most overwhelming terms. Any special gifts delivered shall be designed to enhance your wedded bliss and augment your first night as a married couple.”

Randall snorted and rolled his eyes. “How Major Henderson tolerates your long-winded pontificating is beyond my comprehension. Your secretarial skills must be consummate.”

“I am the best,” Reginald affirmed without a hint of equivocation, “but that is beside the point.”

“I was guessing you planned to lodge at Uncle’s house in Oxfordshire as that is on the way to Bath,” Royce speculated, eyeing Randall and Kitty closely for a telltale response.

He was disappointed. Kitty knew the brothers fairly well between her own interactions with the Artois family and Randall’s conversations so merely smiled benignly. Randall’s face was blank and he said nothing.

“Quit fishing, Royce.” The eldest, Roderick, spoke finally. He gazed at his brothers with feigned reproach. “Randall never said they were going to Bath. Could just as easily be Brighton or the Lake District or…”

“Or maybe we are sailing to France or taking the ferry to Ireland,” Randall interrupted with a laugh. “We may spend our wedding night at the inn down in Meryton, Aunt Phillip’s townhouse in London, or my house near the barracks. And, since I have mentioned all those places you can therefore conclude it will be none of them!”

“Unless it
is
one of them and you mentioned it to throw us off the scent,” Royce inserted with a grin.

Randall shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Face it, I have outwitted you so leave it be. My bride and I will have a perfect honeymoon without any interference, or ‘blessings upon our union’ from any of you.”

“Very well then. We admit defeat to your superior intellect and skills at stealth. Clever you are, Brother, but remember that no matter where you honeymoon, after a month you will be returning to your house in London and we all know where that is!”

Roland’s smug mien was mirrored by the others, until Randall replied, “Indeed. Bear in mind, however, that I know where all of
you
dwell. Retaliation would only add to the joy of my homecoming.”

And at this point Kitty burst into gales of laughter.

Expressing their thanks and accepting the numerous well wishes was time consuming, but the newlyweds managed to depart Netherfield by mid-afternoon. Georgiana embraced Kitty the longest, whispering her assurance that her wedding would definitely not take place until Kitty returned.

As predicted, the newlywed Artoises were relieved not to be traveling far, although the handful of miles proved enough to wildly escalate their fervency. Randall did not unhitch the horses, instead opting to carry his wife into the house and straight to the bed. The lovely surroundings and exceeding joy in officially being husband and wife added a dimension to their lovemaking that neither had expected. Despite Randall’s assertion that he would keep his wife in bed for the whole week, they took a few long walks in the wood and enjoyed the rustic scenery before moving on to Bath. In every way imaginable it was the perfect honeymoon and an auspicious beginning to their life together. But that is for another story.

In the meantime, the festivities at Netherfield continued until late afternoon with the guests occasionally turning their thoughts to the newlyweds but primarily enjoying the food and entertainment. Darcy and Elizabeth performed their duties as host and hostess, but did breathe a sigh of relief when the final guest departed that evening. Darcy was able to slip away with Alexander to return the toad to his riverbank home before darkness made that chore impossible. Just as dusk began to creep over the horizon, Darcy closed the wide front door, threw the latch, and fell against the thick wood to momentarily close his eyes in exhaustion.

George laughed, encircled the weary younger man’s shoulders, and steered wordlessly to the game room where Richard, Charles, and Joshua Daniels were already chalking their cues. Several rounds of billiards and a couple of glasses of brandy were just what Darcy needed to unwind. No one brought up the subject of Wickham or Orman, instead chatting amiably about the wedding, politics, horse racing, medicine, or anything else that arose naturally. By the time Darcy rejoined his wife and sons in their chambers he was nearly restored to his old self. He kept the boys close, constructing a pallet of thick quilts by the fire that ended up being a place for extended play and story time.

“Papa, do you think my toad happy?”

Darcy looked into the anxious face of his firstborn, smiling and not admonishing him for interrupting the story he was reading aloud. “I am sure he is content, Son. He is with his family, just as you are, maybe reading a story to his children.”

Alexander frowned, meditating on that information for a minute before shaking his head. “No, Papa, frogs not really read. Only in pretend.”

Darcy laughed, pulling him closer to his side and kissing the top of his head. “Indeed you are correct. I was only teasing.”

“Fuss no more over the toad, Alexander. Let your father finish the story. I want to hear what happens to Gulliver on Lilliput, do you?”

Alexander nodded. Michael squealed and babbled, his hand tapping on the open page of the book Darcy held as if he concurred with his mother’s question. He was perched on his father’s left thigh, fat body bouncing and wiggling, and the silver rattle gripped in his hand waving about dangerously. He looked upward into Darcy’s face and released a stream of bilabial monosyllables that apparently translated into his wish for Darcy to recommence the reading.

After a kiss to his second son’s head, he did, resonant voice rising and falling in a storyteller’s cadence. Michael calmed, the rattle brought to his mouth for serious gnawing as he listened to the adventures of Gulliver.

The final restoration to Darcy’s equilibrium came once the children were asleep and Lizzy was lying snugly against his side with head resting on his shoulder. They wore nightwear and had no plans to be intimate with the children in the same room, but that did not prevent tender caressing under the concealing covers. In light of the exhausting day and extreme emotion, it was soothing to hold each other.

“Miss Kitty, or Mrs. Artois I should say, was a vision of loveliness. Pale colors become her.” He drew the long lock of his wife’s hair that he had been negligently toying with to his nose. “Of course, she was no match for how stunning you were on the day we married.”

“Naturally not! It is requisite for you to make such a declaration. As I must say that your abundant handsomeness on our wedding day was no match for a man in military garb.”

“Is it not the truth, Mrs. Darcy?”

She pursed her lips, eyes twinkling, and answered with feigned uncertainty. “Well, the leather, jeweled baldric and gold saber did add a certain panache and éclat missing at our nuptials. Makes a definitive judgment difficult to render.”

“I
knew
I should have worn my grandfather’s Italian rapier that day!” he declared dramatically. “I feared being ostentatious.”

“Never any fear of you being ostentatious, my love. You so easily blend into the background.” She laughed, closing the gap for a kiss.

“You must stop that, Elizabeth,” he murmured huskily against her mouth, “or I shall not be able to restrain myself and will wildly make love to you unconcerned with giving Alexander an education he does not yet need.”

Lizzy halted the activity of her fingers, not aware that she had reached to feather light caresses over her husband’s left ear and the hair that curled there. Early in their marriage Lizzy learned how erotically sensitive Darcy was in the region of his ears. The lightest touch elicited faint moans and shivers, and a kiss or subtle breath drove him insane. She found it humorous since her own ears were only ticklish. She also found it useful. A last moment brushing kiss or stroke to his aural area was a gift she delighted in bestowing from time to time as he departed the house. The muted pule caught in his throat and flicker of fire in his sapphire eyes was satisfying. When they made love it was one of a handful of tactics she knew to employ that plummeted his ardor over the edge of control into blissful, wanton abandon.