Lady Harriette, page 5
“Surely she is a most remarkable young woman to have captured your eye,” Jane said hesitantly.
“Not only that, but she has captured my heart. At the risk of sounding like a love-sick fool resembling my cousin over there,” he gestured to Darcy. Jane and he shared a knowing smirk before he resumed speaking. “I must confess, my lovely wife means everything in the world to me. I cannot imagine my life without her.”
Jane placed her hand on his. “I could not be happier for you.” Then in a hushed, conspiratorial tone she said, “And fear not, I shall not think any less of you regardless of how smitten you are. You are one of the best men I know. You deserve to be happy.”
Jane smiled sweetly and strode away. Indeed. The way Harriette made him feel was more than enough to render any man grateful to be alive. Nothing substituted the way he felt when he held her in his arms. Richard recalled a conversation he had with his wife just before returning downstairs for dinner.
He vowed his undying love for her. He kissed her behind her earlobe and whispered, “Forever more.”
“But Richard, forever is such a very long time,” had been her teasing reply.
At the risk of exposing his heart, he then said, “Yes, and I wish to spend each and every moment of it with you—from this day forth.”
He smiled. Without her, his life would be bereft of meaning. What would be the point in denying it? There were very few people he felt comfortable confiding in other than Jane. As much as Darcy was his best friend in the world, such things were not discussed—not after he had chided Darcy on his lengthy, stealth courtship with Elizabeth. He had been merciless, and Darcy did not aim to miss any opportunity to seek retribution. Of course, it was all in good fun, but Richard could not boast of always receiving his cousin’s taunts in the spirit they were intended.
Richard’s sentiments were wrought with a measure of discord over his own long-held conviction that, were he to marry, it must be to a woman with a substantial dowry of at least fifty thousand pounds. It begged the question why, now that he had achieved his ambition of marrying a wealthy woman, did he feel inadequate. Was it because of the manner in which he had secured her hand?
Seduction, in and of itself, was no reason to feel uneasy about a conquest. The alternative was the long drawn-out process of meeting, courting over months, even years, and then finally becoming engaged. Add to that the prospect of a lengthy betrothal before actually taking those sacred vows and saying I do. He shuddered. A healthy man, violently in love, and determined to stay within the bounds of decorum might succumb to madness under such circumstances.
I commit my life to you. To have and to hold from this day forth for as long as we both shall live. Forsaking all others, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, forever. Whatever the words, whatever the means, the result was the same. He and Harriette were married. They had professed their love for one another. Nothing would separate them. Certainly not his propensity for debauchery with other women, which had persisted right up until the moment he set his cap at her.
If he suffered a shadow of a doubt, it had nothing to do with his own motives—but rather his thought that Harriette might one day grow bored—that her thirst for him might one day be quenched. Perhaps one day, someone else might capture her attention.
Twelve years my junior, she is beautiful and vivacious. She has a quest for living, for excitement, and adventure that might lend itself to the susceptibility of wanting something more—always something more.
Richard chided himself again. Stop this nonsense and cease these foolish musings. This is nothing more than my own sense of inadequacy born out of my callous disregard for the feelings of every woman before Harriette, which leads me to believe what I now have is fleeting. My fear is she might, one day, treat me as cold-heartedly as I have treated so many others.
His harshest critic took on a voice of its own. She will toy with you, draw you in. Such is the nature of women—just when they have you right where they want you, they pull the rug from under your feet and leave your heart twisting and wrenching in the wind.
Richard drew a deep breath. Hell, it could happen. Indeed, who knew better than he that it could happen? Who was more skilled than he in the art of dashing the hopes of helpless victims of the game called love? Ah, such were the insecurities of a former rake—one who had enjoyed such folly solely for the sake of loving the game.
That was then—the days of his youth when his cousin and he had enjoyed all the privileges afforded young gentlemen of their sphere. In consequence, he was more his cousin’s sidekick than his equal, for what the women wanted more was to stand a chance at being the next mistress of Pemberley. Richard’s heart banged against his chest. Even Harriette had preferred his cousin from the beginning. Much to Darcy’s credit, Lady Harriette was one of the young heiresses clamouring for his attention, whilst abetted by his aunt, whom he had not toyed with. Thank Heaven for that. Still, Richard could not help but suffer a bit of that old pang of insecurity, tinged with a whiff of jealousy whenever Darcy and Harriette were alone.
Richard tore his eyes from the blazing fire’s brilliance to look at his wife. She sat with Elizabeth. As per their wont, the two women were huddled in intimate conversation. That was but one of the things he admired most about Elizabeth—that she bore no evidence of suffering animosity over the way that Harriette had made her preference for Darcy so shamelessly known—even after she became Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. Elizabeth trusted Darcy implicitly, at least where Harriette was concerned. Because she trusted Darcy, she had opened her heart and mind to a true friendship with her ladyship.
I have to credit that to a number of things. Together, Darcy and Elizabeth weathered the storm of marital insecurities and emerged stronger in their commitment to one another. Darcy would never do anything in the world to put in jeopardy what he had found in his marriage to Elizabeth. Such thoughts as these gave Richard a measure of comfort. As with any married couple, he and Harriette would weather their own storms. They, too, would emerge stronger and just as committed as a couple should be. Unless or until serious troubles came knocking at his door, he would cease his worries.
I shall prove myself to be the man she believes in—the husband she deserves.
Chapter 6 ~ Most Often the Case
“What do you intend to do about the situation at Beaconwood?”
Lord Matlock folded his paper and placed it aside. “I mean to do no more than I have already. Richard asked me to recommend a new steward to take over the management of the estate. I did as he requested. The rest is up to him.”
Far away on the opposite end of the heavily laden breakfast table, Lady Matlock regarded her husband of more than five and thirty years with dismay. “What does Richard know of these matters? He has spent all his adult life in service to his country. Is he now expected to rectify the troubling circumstances at Beaconwood single-handed? This is not to be borne.” As was usually the case where their youngest son was concerned, the two of them were at odds. Had Lord Matlock had his way, he would not have allowed his wife to bequeath his son Beaconwood Park in the first place. Lady Harriette’s father had offered the couple a far grander estate near Staffordshire. Lady Ellen, however, wanted her son to have another option, namely the opportunity of declining his father-in-law’s magnanimous gesture.
“I agree things are quite disturbing at Beaconwood, but it is not our concern.”
“Not our concern! It is my family’s ancestral home you speak of. Its troubles were not of Richard’s doings. The least we might do is aid him as best we can. He does not intend to use any of his wife’s dowry towards the management of the estate, and I am inclined to agree with him.”
“Now see here, my dear. I shall not expend one shilling towards rectifying the situation of Beaconwood’s near financial ruin. Our son has always prided himself on his ingenuity—fought me at every turn rather than heed my advice. Now he must reap what he sowed.” Lord Matlock picked up his paper and thumped it open. He cleared his throat. “He has always valued Darcy’s opinion over either of ours. Let him turn to Darcy to get him out of this mess. Pray Darcy will use prudence. This predicament might be the means of our son finally becoming a responsible gentleman; as opposed to suffering the life for which he prepared himself—that of a heedless second son with a generous inheritance.”
Lady Matlock would not be put off as easily as that. One would think her husband wanted their son to fail. But why, when he had come so far in such a short time since his marriage to Lady Harriette? How fortunate he had been—a second son securing the hand of the only daughter of their closest friends, Lord and Lady Stafford. They were seriously displeased over the prospect of their daughter marrying a mere second son with no fortune of his own. Lady Matlock, however, was ecstatic. Although she and her best friend, Lady Stafford, had originally intended Lady Harriette for Darcy, she supposed things had worked out as they should. She had spent years putting beautiful, young heiresses in her nephew’s path only to discover he had fallen in love with his sister’s paid companion. The material point was that both Darcy and Richard were exceedingly happy with their choices.
As her way of showing satisfaction with the match, Lady Matlock bequeathed to her son the most sacred possession she owned—her family’s estate, which had been left to her as the only child of one of the wealthiest landowners in Derbyshire. Had she known of its dire financial straits, she might have thought twice before giving it to her son. Mr. Bolton, the steward, had been a most trusted and loyal servant to her father. When her father passed within a year of the passing of her beloved mother, Bolton came to her offering to continue on as steward and to oversee the estate until she decided what she wanted to do with it. Not once did she suspect. She had never heard of any complaints from the tenants. For all intents and purposes, the estate was thriving. Less than six months after her son and his bride came to Beaconwood, the trouble began. One thing led to another and before she knew, Mr. Bolton left his position as steward, fleeing into the dark of night like the thief he turned out to be, taking with him a significant portion of Beaconwood’s coffers.
Lord Matlock tore his eyes away from his morning paper when his eldest son, Lord Robert, came into the breakfast room. “It was considerate of you to come by and visit your wife and child,” said Lord Matlock.
The viscount prepared a light fare at the side table and took his seat. “I am not opposed to doing what I can to keep up appearances.”
“Is your sole purpose in being here merely for appearance’s sake?”
“I tend to venture where my heart leads me. In this case, to a woman who loves me and is capable of giving me sons.”
The older gentleman huffed. “Being the proud sire of bastards is hardly a laudable accomplishment!”
Her ladyship gasped. Her husband bestowed a silent apology before continuing his speech. “You do nothing but bring disgrace upon our family.” His lordship reflected on his youngest son’s travails. His voice laced with a tinge of disappointment, he said, “You and your brother.”
Lord Robert smirked. “It is a comfort to know I am not the only son who disappoints your lordship.”
The elderly patriarch slammed his fist on the table. “I suggest you spend less time across town with that mistress of yours and more time with your wife. Do I need to remind you of your obligation to beget a male child? Need I remind you there will be no divorce? I simply will not abide it!”
The viscount stood abruptly, his displeasure evidenced by his stern countenance. “If you are so determined to see that Elise begets a male child—then I suggest you do the honour.” He flashed an unapologetic glimpse at his mother, whose mouth was wide opened and then made his way to the door to quit the room, nearly toppling a footman in the process.
As soon as he was gone, Lord Matlock turned to his wife. “I am sorry you had to bear witness to such an appalling exchange, my dear Ellen.”
She placed her hand on her bosom. “Oh, Edward! If Robert does not change his mind—if he does not return to Elise’s side and assume his role as a proper husband, whatever shall we do?”
Richard and Darcy raced on horseback across the meadow towards Darcy’s good friend Charles Bingley’s estate. To Darcy’s surprise, Bingley had decided to retain the place despite spending little time there. Of late, he was just as likely to reside in Scarborough or London. Why he did not just make up his mind to let go of the lease, Darcy had no idea. Still, he had promised to inspect the place in Bingley’s stead.
Once they were in view of the Netherfield manor house, they stopped to rest their horses and take in their surroundings. Evidence of some neglect was apparent. The lawns were less manicured, and the shrubberies in the formal gardens out front were slightly overgrown. Nothing a capable overseer could not quickly rectify should Bingley return on notice of a week or two. Bingley had offered to have the house opened for the Darcys and the Fitzwilliams’ arrival in Hertfordshire. However, not wishing to put his friend through any trouble, Darcy had declined his generous gesture.
What a wise decision that had been. Save a few hours, he had his wife’s undivided attention, what with all her mother and sister’s eagerness to spend time with the newest addition to his family. Pleasing recollections of his early-morning escapade with Elizabeth at Oakham Mount lingered, especially because she had been the one to suggest the predawn stroll. Smiling, he could not help wondering what deliciously intoxicating moments the evening would bring.
His horse gave a disinterested snort. Recalling himself to the present, Darcy said, “It seems you have decided to remain at Longbourn rather than travel to London ahead of us, my friend.”
“Indeed. Harriette has decided she rather enjoys the Hertfordshire environs.”
“Yes, Elizabeth spoke of their plans to visit Jane this afternoon. In fact, she said it was her ladyship’s idea. Do you wonder what that is about?”
Richard shrugged. “I do not profess to understand the mysteries of the female mind. Although, in this case, I would not have been opposed to heading for London today. You must realise I am most anxious to pursue the newest lead on Bolton’s whereabouts. With any luck, he will not have squandered all the money he made off with.”
“It is a pity a man as valued as he was for as many years by Lady Ellen’s family would forfeit his character to greed and ill-got gains.”
“Indeed. It broke my mother’s heart when she learned of his duplicity. I could not bring myself to tell her I have a lead on the old man’s whereabouts, especially in light of what I am apt to do once I find him.”
“Of course, he is advanced in years. I do not imagine there is much you can do. Surely you will not call him out.”
“The alternative is life in gaol. Which would you prefer?”
“Fortunately, I never expect to find myself in a position of having to choose between the two.”
“I suppose you have a point, which reminds me. I must thank you again for giving your own steward leave to oversee the affairs at Beaconwood while we are in town. I know my dear father is appalled by my decision to leave Derbyshire in the middle of this crisis, especially as he believes I am travelling to London merely for the prospect of enjoying the Season.”
Richard huffed. “I can hear him now, going on and on about my lack of responsibility and my ignorance of priorities—choosing the prospect of gaiety over the hardships of my estate and its tenants.”
“Your lovely wife assumes this trip is solely for the purposes of gaiety as well.”
“Yes, and I would like to keep it that way. I trust you have said nothing to Elizabeth about the travails at Beaconwood.”
“Only to the extent you have told your own wife—that our frequent trips to Beaconwood are primarily to help you settle in your role as master.”
“I appreciate your discretion. As close as our wives have become, I suspect if one knows a thing, it is only a scant matter of time before the other knows it too. That is the way it is with women, you know.”
Darcy shrugged. “Do you mind if I do not go on record as commenting one way or the other?”
“Indeed. I would expect no more or no less.”
“Yes—well, how fortunate we are in being settled so close. Our wives are dear friends, and our children shall grow up in proximity as well.”
“Must I remind you, as a mere second son my need to beget an heir is nowhere as urgent as yours? Although I can very well picture our children growing up together, the realisation of such a prospect is in the far distant future.”
“You seem rather certain. Yet, one only has to look at the two of you to discern you spend quite a bit of time towards the endeavour.”
Richard feasted his eyes on Darcy with wonder and disbelief written all over his face. “You are one to talk, my friend. I wager there will be a spare Darcy heir long before any of my future progenies grace this earth.”
Richard said no more on the subject—there was no need. Neither one of the gentlemen was unfamiliar with methods of preventing certain circumstances. Darcy should not have been surprised his friend was relying on such techniques even now when he was married. He would be lying if he denied begetting Pemberley’s heir had not been his highest priority during his first months of marriage to Elizabeth. Of course, he never purposely did anything to delay the blessed occasion. Having children meant too much to Elizabeth. With the birth of his son, Darcy realised how much being a husband and father signified. Elizabeth and little William were everything to him. One day, his cousin would feel the same way about his own wife and child.
Darcy observed his closest friend in the world out of the side of his eye. Even now, he found it hard to believe his friend had fallen so hard and so fast for young Lady Harriette. Darcy chuckled inside over all the young heiress put his friend through. What a diverting game of cat and mouse it had been, especially since Richard had meant to be the cat. Better still was all the pleasure Darcy derived from seeing the shoe on the other foot, for Richard had been merciless in his teasing and taunting of Darcy during the months and months precipitating his and Elizabeth’s ultimate betrothal.
