Mistress Mary and the General: A Pride and Prejudice Inspired Story Read online

  Richard turned to look out the window before checking the mantle clock. “Unfortunately it is late enough in the day that I must, though her Ladyship may put me out once I have had my say.”

  Darcy laughed as he crossed to his cousin. “And have it said you were forced to take refuge at an inn when you were upon their doorstep? I sincerely doubt it.”

  Richard felt his anger break, and he begrudgingly shared his cousin’s mirth. “You are correct; everything for appearance sake. Well, perchance my appearance will not be demanded for dinner and the drawing room, and I will be able to retire early so I might return to Pemberley at first light.”

  “We can only pray it be so.” Darcy clapped his cousin on the shoulder. “I am certain Braxton has notified O’Toole and he is packing your saddlebags as we speak. Shall we finish the review we had begun or would you prefer to wait until your return?”

  “I believe we have done all we may do until a property is located. If you would write to your man, when I return we may begin looking into family lines so I may decide where to purchase a few brood mares.” He paused and met his cousin’s gaze. “Thank you, Darce. You know I have always considered you more a brother than my siblings.”

  Darcy nodded and the men embraced before Richard left to make ready for his journey. After he returned to his desk and wrote the letter to his solicitor, Darcy noticed his cousin’s missive had been left behind. Picking it up, he read it through once more. Something felt odd to him, but he could not put his finger upon what it was.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  The soft whisper of words originating just beside him startled Darcy. He smiled as he looked up at his wife, surprised he had not heard her enter the room. “I was puzzling out a mystery.”

  He took her hand and drew her down into his lap, placing feather kisses upon her cheeks and lips. She giggled as she pushed him away and reached for the letter in his hand.

  “Whatever have you received that caused you to be so pensive?”

  “It was sent to Richard, not me,” he told her as he placed kisses upon her neck and shoulders.

  “May I?” she asked as she waved the paper.

  Darcy shrugged, continuing his ministrations. Elizabeth giggled as he reached a particularly sensitive spot, but shrugged away from him and began to read. When she became still a moment later, Darcy realized she was not pleased with what she had read.

  “Where is Richard?” she asked before commenting on the letter.

  “He has gone to Matlock to confront his brother.”

  Pushing out of his arms, she started toward the door. “Has he already gone? Can he be stopped?”

  “Whatever is the matter, Elizabeth?”

  “I fear Richard is walking into a matchmaking party,” she threw over her shoulder as she exited the room and made for the stairs.

  Suddenly, Darcy remembered a discussion they had a few days prior. Elizabeth had received a letter from Lady Matlock inviting them to a house party at Matlock Hall. It was written in such a way as to invite the Darcys, but without any true belief they would accept. Lady Matlock had mentioned Elizabeth’s recent confinement, making it clear children were not to be included, and had then gone on to list the names of other guests with whom she knew the Darcys did not normally socialize.

  “It appears to be more of a marriage arranging event than a gathering of friends,” Darcy remembered Elizabeth saying. He looked up in time to see his wife return.

  “We are too late; he has already gone.”

  “Shall I ride after him, do you think? Perhaps I could intercept him before he reaches Matlock.” He rose and moved toward the bell pull, but she stopped him.

  “O’Toole says he has been gone long enough to be nearly there. If you go now, you shall be caught there yourself, and that is not wise.”

  Laughing, Darcy drew her into his arms again. “But I am a married man. I am of no interest to them now.”

  Elizabeth shook her head as she smiled condescendingly. “Have you forgotten the ways of the haute ton, my love? I am certain there are those who would willingly accept your advances, married or no.”

  “But I would not make advances,” he said as he held her closer, a frown creasing his brow. “Though that would not stop them from making advances of their own, even if you were on your deathbed or,” he shook his head sadly, “were I in mourning. Poor Richard, he is riding into an ambush.” Placing his forehead against hers, he pondered the situation. “Should I send O’Toole to him?”

  A sly smile crossed her lips as she tilted her head to kiss him. “Tis already done. When I told him of my concerns, he set out straight away.”

  “Ah, you always think of everything, my darling Lizzy. Whatever would we do without you?”

  “Be a lost and boring sort, I imagine. Now, come and ready yourself for dinner. Mary and Georgiana are to perform a duet for us this evening.”

  Grudgingly, he released her and allowed her to lead him to his rooms, but he could not draw his mind from what could be occurring at Matlock.

  Chapter Ten

  The number of horses and carriages in the stable and courtyard when he arrived at Matlock was Richard’s first indication things may not be as he originally believed. The second was the shrill feminine voices drifting down the stairs which raised the hairs upon his neck as he entered the house through the garden doors. He was about to turn around when he heard his name being called.

  “Fitzwilliam! Sneaking in through the side door? Not planning a surprise attack, were you?”

  A grimace crossed his face before he could school his features and respond. “Beardsley, whatever brings you to Matlock?”

  The gentleman chuckled as he approached his old school mate. “Same as you, I imagine. We must be about the business of settling down. My sisters are all wed and I have need of a hostess, preferably with a sizeable dowry to replace the funds my sisters carried away.” He laughed again as he clapped Richard on the shoulder.

  Richard flinched at the implications of Beardsley’s speech. “I remain in mourning, sir; I am simply here at my brother’s request.”

  “Oh, ho!” Beardsley cackled. “It appears you are being gulled, my friend, and by your brother no less. Oh, this should be a merry time. So glad I came.” He glanced about. “I do believe Lord Matlock is in the billiard room. Come, come, I would not miss this for a month’s supply of snuff.”

  He laughed again as he took hold of Richard’s arm and propelled him down the hall toward the sound of clacking billiard balls and men’s voices. “Lord Matlock, see what I have stumbled upon! Your brother appears to have just arrived.”

  Richard shook his arm loose from the grasping coxcomb and glared at his brother.

  “Ah, Richard,” James Fitzwilliam, the current Lord Matlock, stepped forward somewhat reluctantly and patted his brother’s arm. “I am so pleased you have joined us.”

  “A word please, James. Preferably in private.”

  Lord Matlock glanced at his guests before turning back to his brother. It was clear Richard was struggling to maintain his composure, so James nodded as he motioned toward the door. “If you gentlemen will excuse us, my brother and I have important matters to discuss.”

  The silence that remained behind them as they moved into the hallway told the Earl all were listening for any exchange between the siblings. Laying a finger upon his lips, he motioned for Richard to follow him to his study in silence.

  Well aware that the curious members of the ton waited for any opportunity to overhear a bit of scandal, Richard had no intention of giving them anything to be used against his family. He quietly followed his brother, though he could feel his anger increasing.

  The door to the study was opened by a footman and Richard followed James inside. After waiting patiently for the door to be closed behind him, he rounded on his brother and opened his mouth to berate him.

  “I know what you are about to say,” James stopped him with an extended hand. “You must believe this was no
t my idea. I know you have gone to Pemberley to recuperate, as you always do.” He crossed to the side table and poured out a glass of brandy for each of them. “I truly did not believe you would come. I anticipated a written dressing down at most.”

  Turning back, he held out the glass to his brother. “Whatever made you decide to come to Matlock?” His eyes opened wide. “Good God, you did not bring the children did you?”

  Richard accepted the glass as he shook his head in disgust. “Most certainly not! Even if I had lost my senses for a moment, Darcy would not have allowed it.” Taking a sip, he dropped into the closest chair. “If you did not wish me to be here, why ever did you send an express demanding I come?”

  Taking the seat next to his brother, James sipped the brandy. “It is not that I did not wish you to come, it is simply not where I thought you would want to be. I had intended to ride over and visit you, but Belinda decided we must have a house party. The next I knew all of her friends from town were descending upon Matlock.” He took another swallow, savouring the rich, fruity taste, before leaning forward toward his brother. “It was not until they had all arrived that I realized what was happening.” A bitter laughed escaped his lips. “I believe I am the proprietor of a marriage market.”

  “This does not explain your express,” Richard reminded his brother before taking a hearty swallow.

  “No, it does not.” James lowered his eyes as he traced the brocade pattern on the chair arm with one finger. “Miss Sheridan is here.”

  Nearly choking on his brandy, Richard jumped from his seat. “Miss Sheridan? Your paramour? And how is Lady Matlock reacting to her presence?”

  Still avoiding his brother’s eyes, James took another sip of brandy before answering. “She is the one who invited her.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Richard asked, not believing what he had heard.

  James quickly finished his drink, stood and crossed to the table to refill the glass, before slowly returning to his seat. “Belinda has suffered from several miscarriages since we wed. The physician doubts she will ever deliver a child.”

  The indignation slowly left him and Richard returned to the chair by his brother. “I am grieved to hear this, James.” He sat back in a more relaxed manner, ready to listen to all his brother had to say. “But I do not understand what this has to do with Miss Sheridan.”

  “Belinda has decided that Rosemary should carry my child.”

  A chill crept over Richard as he watched his brother, who still avoided his gaze. “And the three of you will go abroad, returning with a child which Belinda will claim as her own? It is the stuff of novels,” he ended incredulously.

  James shook his head as he studied his glass. “In her grief Belinda confided her barrenness to her closest friend, the Duchess of Beaufort. All the ton is now aware of her condition. None would believe us if we attempted such a farce.”

  “Then what benefit would it be for Miss Sheridan to bare your child? You would not be able to claim it. If it was a boy, he would not be in line to the earldom.”

  Slowly, James raised his gaze to meet his brother.

  “Oh, no.” Richard shook his head as he stared at his brother. “You could not mean… Why? No!”

  “Richard, if I die without an heir, you will become Earl of Matlock.”

  “And my son, William, after me. Why should I take on your mistress and bastard as well?” Richard finished the brandy in one swallow before pushing himself out of the chair and storming to the side table to refill the glass. “I do not see where this scheme benefits anyone.”

  “The woman I love will be cared for and carry her rightful title. My child will be the offspring of an earl. They will have what they were meant to have.”

  “And you would sit by while I take the ‘woman you love’ as my wife? In my bed?”

  James winced. “I would hope you would not demand she fulfil her duties to you. You loved Sarah, Richard, you understand …”

  “I love Sarah! I would not tarnish her memory by replacing her with … with … I do not even know what to call this.” He slammed the glass down upon the table, sloshing liquid over the edge, and turned to face his brother. “You want me to be a cuckold so you may have your cake and eat it too? You truly do not know me!”

  Before his brother could respond, Richard took a deep breath and returned to his seat, struggling to regain a calm composure. “James, why did you not simply marry Miss Sheridan?”

  “Father …”

  “And do not tell me Father would not allow it. You did not marry until he was on his deathbed. Had you waited another month, he would have been gone, you would have been Earl, and you could have married who you pleased.”

  “You are correct, of course,” James said in a low voice. “And had I married Miss Rosemary Sheridan I would have been shunned by the Peerage. No, I did what was expected of me.”

  Richard snorted in disgust, “Please, spare me the weeping heart. I did what was expected of me, Eric did what was expected of him, but when it came to marriage we followed our hearts. You had the same opportunity, and you pushed it away. I have no sympathy for you.”

  “You married an Earl’s widow, perfectly acceptable; and Eric married Miss Bingley. Though their fortune is from trade, the Bingleys are still fashionable. My situation is not the same as either of yours, as you well know.”

  “She is Catholic, not a witch or gypsy. It is not as though you are in line for the throne.” Richard shook his head in disgust. “I would not have given two shakes if Sarah had been Catholic, or pagan for that matter. If you truly loved her, you should have married Miss Sheridan.”

  James shook his head. “It is all well to say now what I might have done then, but it changes nothing. I am wed to the daughter of the Duke of Rutland and I shall have no son by her. The very reason for our marriage has been stripped away from us.”

  “Forgive me, James, if I am unable to portray the grief you expect. I cannot commiserate with you over your poor choices, and I shall not be drawn into your future equally ill-conceived decisions.” Richard stood and bowed to his brother. “If you will excuse me, I shall go to my room. I would prefer to take dinner there as I intend to return to Pemberley tomorrow at first light.”

  “Belinda will expect your presence at dinner and in the drawing room this evening.”

  “Make my excuses,” Richard snipped as he strode from the room.

  A few minutes later, he entered the rooms which were always set aside for him when he stayed at Matlock. Only after the door was firmly closed and locked behind him did he allow himself to take a deep breath. He was turning to survey the room when a noise in the dressing room drew his attention. Hoping it was a servant, but fearful of some form of deceit, he crept noiselessly toward the doorway.

  A familiar grumbling met his ears as he looked around the frame to find his valet shaking out the contents of his saddlebags. “O’Toole, how the blazes did you come to be here?” Richard asked as he felt the tension slip from his shoulders.

  “Mrs. Darcy feared you might be riding into a storm, sir. She sent me to guard your back.” Out of years of military life, O’Toole had jumped to attention as he spoke.

  “Rest easy, old man,” Richard laughed as he dropped into the closest chair. “I am pleased you have come. Lizzy knew what was about here?”

  “Well, she knew it was nothing you would wish to be a part of.” He returned to the work of laying out his master’s clothing for the evening.

  “I shall thank her when we return tomorrow. You need not choose clothing for me for this evening. I shall be taking my dinner in my room.”

  “I have already attempted to request it, sir, but the cook was adamant that none would be provided. She is under strict orders to serve only in the dining room; no special trays are to leave the kitchens.” O’Toole shook his head in disgust as he looked over the selection of clothing before him. “You shall look like a pauper beside this lot, sir. Had I known who was in attendance before we left, I would h
ave chosen better.”

  “Had my brother not sought to hide his intentions … well, we would not be here. Do what you can, O’Toole.” He chuckled, “Perhaps if I do not shine as brightly as the others, I shall be overlooked.”

  Richard immediately noticed the change in his servant’s posture. “You have heard something.”

  Reluctantly, O’Toole turned to meet his master’s gaze. “Yes, sir. It appears all present are aware of a personal matter between the Lord and Lady Matlock.”

  “You allude to Lady Matlock’s barrenness.” Slowly, the implications began to settle upon Richard and his back stiffened once more.

  “Yes, sir. It appears they look to you as the next Earl of Matlock.”

  “Which makes me desirable marriage material whether I am dressed to the nines or as a beggar at the feast.” He ran a hand over his face. “Well, best to get this over with then. Make certain my mourning band is firmly in place; perhaps it may dissuade a few.”

  O’Toole’s doubtful gaze matched Richard’s inner turmoil as he stood and left the room. As he entered the bedroom, he glanced at the mantle clock and tabulated the length of time before he would be forced into company, and the number of hours he would be required to remain. Finding the first too short and the second too long, he looked about for liquid sustenance to strengthen him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Ah, Richard!” Lady Matlock approached her brother-in-law with her arms outstretched. “James said you had arrived. Shame on you for not coming to see me.” She playfully swatted her fan against his arm.

  “Lady Matlock,” Richard said as he bowed formally. “I was fatigued from my ride and did not wish to dirty your furniture with my road dust.”

  “Yes, well,” she opened her fan and fluttered it about her person as she ignored his rebuff of her attentions. “I am simply pleased you chose to join us. You have been so distant. We worry for you.”

  “I assure you, My Lady, I am well, as are my children. We want for nothing at Pemberley.”