B006O3T9DG EBOK (56 page)

There, at Fitzwilliam’s knee, stood little Geoff. In his hand was another wooden horse, this one white.

Geoff said, “I shall ride into battle with a horse just like this.”

“An officer should not ride a white horse,” the Colonel advised. “He would be too easy a shot for his enemies.”

“Napoleon’s horse, Marengo was an Arabian like this one, but for its mane and tail—they were grey,” Geoff answered holding up his wooden horse.

Fitzwilliam countered, “And look what happened to him....”

“Actually,” said Geoff. “Napoleon was captured....”

Darcy interrupted, “Do not think to correct the Colonel. He knows Napoleon and his history quite well.”

All watched as Geoff nodded, no one quite certain how well he took his father’s reproof. Fitzwilliam affectionately ruffled his hair. Without a word, Geoff smoothed his hair back into place. Fitzwilliam did not speak of it, but made note that Geoff was soldierly enough not to be put in disarray. Georgiana smiled, recognising her brother’s fastidiousness in her nephew. Hands behind his back, Darcy looked upon his son with approval (for indeed, one must never be mussed, particularly in company).

Elizabeth did not smile.

The very notion that her son might go into battle one day sent a shiver down her spine. She did not often think of Geoff’s future as Master of Pemberley, but she hoped he would not be disposed to find distinction in war. It was not unknown for a landowner to fashion their own uniform and trot off to battle.

There were tussles enough with their offspring even then.

The twins were generally well behaved, but when their cousins visited (which was often), they became even more rambunctious. Their antics could not all be assigned to ill influence by their kin. Geoff was caught sliding down the banister in the grand hall more than once and his sister managed to keep a box full of newborn mice under her bed for a week before they were discovered by Franny Tupin. Despite her wrangles with her brother, Janie was usually quite feminine. She was happy to be drawn in a goat cart (but allowed no one else to ever hold the reins). Geoff turned his nose up at the thought of goat carts and ponies. Perhaps because Darcy was wise enough not to insistent upon it, Geoff was never happier than when he was allowed to ride in front of his father whilst he was on Blackjack.

Watching Geoff with his wooden horse, Elizabeth told Georgiana, “Darcy says Geoff shall not be satisfied until he has a horse of his own.”

Elizabeth bit her lower lip as she pondered future hurts. Georgiana, however, altered the conversation from their pampered pets to those abused.

She asked her brother, “What do we hear of the pit ponies? Has Lady Millhouse made any progress there?”

Darcy blanched at the question. It reminded him of a story that may well have travelled halfway to London and back—but one he had not encouraged. Indeed, he had spoken of it only to Elizabeth. If Fitzwilliam had heard of the tale, Georgiana’s open expression made it obvious that he had not related it to her. Darcy thought it only fair to tell his sister what had come to pass at her behest—intercessory letters notwithstanding.

He said, “Our good friend has made progress, but not without great loss to her dignity.”

Georgiana gave a little gasp and placed her fingers against her lips, “Oh, dear!”

He continued, “With only Miss Arbuthnot to accompany her, she took a gig to the nearest mine to negotiate a rearrangement of the workings of their operation. They were loath to take her or her accomplice’s advice. It is no surprise that more than a few miners believed them to be rabble-rousers sent there by the government to disrupt their work. Apparently, Lady Millhouse was sent on her way in a hail of coal.”

“Yes,” added Elizabeth. “Young Sally stood in the gig and threw the coal back at the mob as fast as it was flung.”

In the unlikelihood of the Millhouses relating any of the tale to them, Sally had thought it prudent to make a report of it to the Darcys. Sally was most impressed with Lady Millhouse’s performance.

Sally told them, “I have never seen man nor beast run quite as fast as her ladyship had that day. She lifted her skirts above her knees and ran like the devil was on her heels!”

Despite Sally’s words of praise, Darcy saw it his duty to protect Lady Millhouse’s dignity insofar as their present company. He omitted that part of the story and launched directly into a careful admonishment.

He said, “That is why I was so opposed to you taking part in such business, Georgiana. They could have easily been arrested and tossed in prison for treason. You have children under your care.”

That was the only argument she would not debate. Darcy did not want her to believe her good intentions were wholly thwarted.

He told her, “Lady Millhouse has seen the error of her presentation. She will go to town to watch the equestrian performances at Astley’s and then visit the horse auction where she means to purchase ponies. The next time she approaches a mine, she shall not go to ask the miners to relinquish their stock, but rather to present them with ponies instead. It is her design to have them rotate these ponies in their work.”

Hearing him speak of horses, Geoff leapt up, asking, “Papa! Can you go to Astley’s and buy me a bigger horse?”

“And me Papa! If Geoff gets a bigger horse, may I have one as well?” cried Janie.

“Of all the horses we have in our stables....” he began.

Then he stopped. It was far easier to agree, perhaps, than explain why not.

Chapter 75

The Rabbit Hole

Truly, Juliette did not want to confide in Alistair Thomas. He was a man she knew not to be trustworthy. (As he was a politician, she believed it was a given that his scruples were malleable.) She certainly would not confide in him of her visit with Darcy.

When Darcy did not come to her before he returned to Derbyshire, time, which had once only been a taunt, had turned lethal. Without word from him, she became evermore anxious and apprehensive. Soon alarm troubled her so gratingly that her fingers shook when she took her tea.

As her constant companion, Alistair could not help but notice. With Juliette’s nerves shattered, his repeated entreaties that she share the details of her plan with him were at last met with success. When she spoke, it was with great purposefulness.

“As I have previously advised you, I aspire to have a gentleman of my acquaintance, a former lover, father my child....”

Alistair, possibly lost in his own intrigues, looked away. Taken as she was by her manoeuvring, she did not make note of it.

In a moment, he asked, “Would your husband’s suspicion not be aroused?”

The query was unworthy of a seductress of her abilities.

She simpered, “You question my powers of persuasion?”

Increasingly thrown into his company, Juliette still did not particularly fancy Alistair. His figure was fit (but unduly narrow-shouldered to tempt her admiration). As time passed, she simply longed for diversion. He remained the least revolting man that had access to her chambers. Moreover, he was greatly interested in her schemes against Howgrave. She knew that Alistair had some motive that would improve his situation (all men did), she simply had not yet winkled his out of him.

Initially, she feared he was merely baiting her—in want of betraying her to her husband. More likely, he meant to extort money from her for his silence. She let it be known that under such circumstances, she would not hesitate to accuse him of being her lover. If she did, Alistair would be in far greater danger than was she. Howgrave would run him through—or at least have one of his minions do it.

Sequestered and lonely, she allowed his company for what it was—preferable to what she had been enduring. His interest was always keenest when their discourse tarried upon her plan to escape and extort her husband. No doubt, he hoped to receive a portion of what she would gain from Howgrave for himself. If her plan was as lucrative as she hoped, she would be happy to allow him a share of the pelf. His talk was always witty and occasionally even helpful. He kept her spirits high when she began to believe that Darcy would not come to her at all.

As she was closely watched by her husband’s henchmen, she schemed of ways to make her away. Only Alistair knew how to avoid their sentry. Once in her chambers, he did all he could to storm the citadel of her feminine grotto. She laughed at such feeble murmurings. But her restlessness was so fevered that even those euphemisms began to sound charmingly naive. Alistair was not compleatly without his merit. Indeed, his attempts to lure her to bed began to look inviting. Still, she held him at bay. (There was but one pair of arms wherein she wanted to revel and Alistair did not happen to own them.) Rather, she diverted him by divulging titbits from her tryst with her proposed lover in her carriage.

“He offered to spirit me from the country, but I refused,” she related.

Alistair admitted that was proof indeed of her lover’s concern for her plight.

He advised, “You must jingle the cage a bit. Send lovely billets-doux to remind him that you await his rescue.”

Heeding his advice, she busied herself at her escritoire, writing page after page, tearing them in half and writing once again. One wafted to his feet.

It read, “You would not have to acknowledge the child. Of this, you have my promise,
Mon Cheri
. Indeed, it shall be our secret. If you cannot come to me and give me a child, I shall be put down as if a beast of burden which has passed its usefulness....”

Picking up a gold letter knife (one encrusted with gems), he sliced it in two. He approved of the general tone of her missive, but had further advice.

He called to her, “Sprinkle a little water upon the page so it appears to be tear-stained....”

“
Mon ami
, I do not have to resort to such trickery. My tears are quite real.”

“Your lover is married?”

She shrugged, “Of course.”

“With land, chattels...?”

Again, she nodded.

Holding the gold letter knife gingerly in his hand, Alistair gauged its weight. Her household was full of such treasures. It was important that he did not exclude his own suit for her affections.

He cautioned, “Your lover has much to lose and nothing to gain in aiding you.”

Said she, “It was his marriage that separated us. It shall not again.”

Indeed, it would not. She was no longer content for a single hour of pleasure. She wanted all of Darcy—man, arms, and sabre.

Chapter 76

To the Fair

Geoff Darcy believed that embarking on a mission to purchase a horse for him was a superb notion.

He was too young to ride a full-sized, highly-bred animal on his own. However, he was not too young to prepare for that eventuality. Darcy wanted to do everything he could to encourage his son’s already avid interest in all things equestrian. Although the finest of horses could be found in his own stables, he had not seen one of the proper temperament and age. A colt would be trained under his own exacting directions. By the time the horse was ready for Geoff, the boy would be ready for the horse.

In seeking this particular animal, Darcy’s plans were quite unlike Lady Millhouse’s. She might want to observe a circus, but Mr. Darcy did not want to attend, what might be considered, low entertainment. Perhaps, when the children were older and the times more settled, he might choose to take them all to the horse fair. As it was, he meant to return to the breeder where Elizabeth’s mare, Boots, was purchased. The estate was the hithermost side of Maidenhead. As before, Fitzwilliam would accompany him. It was Fitzwilliam who convinced Darcy that the horse fair should not be avoided, as they would be in the vicinity.