Miss Darcy Decides, page 1
Miss Darcy Decides
A Pride and Prejudice Novella
Reina M. Williams
Table of Contents
Title Page
Miss Darcy Decides: A Pride and Prejudice Novella (Love at Pemberley, #2)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
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Also By Reina M. Williams
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, establishments, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and the work of the author’s imagination.
Copyright © Reina M. Williams 2014
Rickrack Books/rickrackbooks.com
Cover design by Christy C. of Gilded Heart Design
Photo via Fotolia ©ctvvelve
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any format without permission from the author.
First Edition/January 2014
***
While visiting a young woman—who was not so fortunate as Miss Georgiana Darcy in escaping the persuasions of a rogue—Georgiana meets Sir Camden Sutton, whose reputation causes Georgiana to wonder as to his motives. Her wondering soon turns to a different feeling when Sir Camden comes to stay at Pemberley, showing himself to be a very different man than was rumored. While Sir Camden struggles with his past and his commitment to his future, as well as the ill intentions of haughty Caroline Bingley, Miss Darcy must decide whether to listen to others, or the words written on her heart.
Chapter One
Georgiana lit the paper on fire and dropped it into the hearth. The flames met, consuming each other in a blue-yellow crinkle. Warmth, a partner, someone other than paper and flames to share her troubles with, someone special, like her brother had Lizzy, like James had Kitty. But Georgiana had friends, loved ones, and for that she was grateful.
“Georgiana? If you wish to be alone...” Kitty stood by the door, looking still the glowing new bride. Her cheeks, plumped from her smile, blushed pink like her gown.
Georgiana shook her head and motioned for her friend to join her on the settee in front of the fire. The small room was Georgiana’s favorite—the light blues and mauves of the fabrics, the few trinkets that were Georgiana’s mother’s, including her delicate writing desk, comforted Georgiana.
“James and my brother have gone on their business?” Georgiana eased into the cushions. She fluffed the skirt of her sky blue day dress.
“Yes, they are also riding to the new house, to check on the progress of the renovations.” Kitty placed her hand on Georgiana’s. “I am glad we are to have this time together before James and I move to our new home.”
“As am I.” Georgiana’s neck ached, tight from feeling. She was truly happy for Kitty and her cousin James, and for her cousins Anne and Alfred, all newly wed, but there was a lingering longing—Georgiana wished for a love of her own. But the thought of change, on the crest of these other changes, made her retreat into herself. Kitty studied her. Her friend’s concerned frown made Georgiana muster a smile.
“It is not as if it will be the last we shall see each other.” Georgiana’s shoulders tightened. She had been alone so long, and then surrounded by love. Now it was all changing again. “You and James are to be very near. Even at thirty miles, the Bingleys are at an easy distance, and your new home is not above five.”
“And you shall tire of us, for we must be here often to see our new niece or nephew.”
Georgiana tilted her neck, trying to loosen the knots. It was a happiness, that her brother and dear Lizzy expected their first child, yet fear constricted Georgiana. Her mother had died in childbirth. Georgiana could not bear it should such a thing occur to Lizzy, to her dear brother, to their family. Their mother’s death had all but destroyed their father. She could not see such happen to her dear, her only, brother.
“Was not baby Charles dear?” Kitty’s expression turned tender, her smile sweet and her eyes gazing into the distance, as if seeing the small bundled infant they had visited a week since.
Georgiana smiled. She too had been captivated by the little person they had met, her first nephew, Charles Bingley Junior. His tiny fingers and benevolent smile charmed them all.
“And Jane had an easy birth. Lizzy will as well, I am sure.” Kitty knew of Georgiana’s uneasiness. “She is resting now, to be ready for the guests later. Our brother takes excellent care of her, and she of herself.”
Georgiana squeezed Kitty’s hand and rose, walking to the fire again. Her worries were lessened, both by watching them go up in flames and smoke, and by the more practical talk with her dear friend. “Thank you.”
“I have done nothing.” Kitty’s tone was laced with good-natured laughter.
“You have been my friend. And I have been writing down my worries and burning them, as you had suggested. It is helpful.” She and Kitty had shared confidences this year past about their troubles with men, and other concerns of becoming a woman.
“Oddly, I found it to be as well. Perhaps we should make some visits of our own today?”
“Yes, let us bring a basket to Mrs. Wilton and her niece. Her baby is due soon.” Georgiana gripped the mantel. “The wickedness of some men, to leave a woman in such a state...” Had Georgiana not had the protection of her brother, and had he not brought his force to bear on that rogue Wickham a second time, forcing him to marry Kitty’s younger sister, both Georgiana and Lydia Wickham might be in such a circumstance as Miss Wilton. Though at least Miss Wilton—known as Mrs. Hammond to most in the neighborhood—had escaped scandal, due to the protection and forethought of her able aunt, Mrs. Wilton, who was a support and comfort to her niece. Some were not so fortunate as even that, like the hundreds of women who passed through the house in London Georgiana helped to support.
“It is a cowardly thing. But we have learned to stay away from such men. And we are fortunate in our family’s protection and care.” Kitty stood next to Georgiana.
“We are fortunate, indeed.” Georgiana smiled and led her friend out.
***
“Sutton, hallo!” James Fitzwilliam, his oldest, perhaps his only friend, called from across the road. He was the only one who called him Sutton—most addressed him as Sir Camden, or something not resembling his name. But those kind of acquaintances he was done with.
They pulled astride of each other. Camden fingered the smooth grain of his reins. James rode with another man...Ah, James’s cousin Darcy. They nodded to each other. Darcy was a proper gentleman, who was not fond of men like Camden, men who shunned duty for pleasure and lived recklessly, rather than carefully. Or so Camden had been. He was still treated so, and he did not bother to disabuse people of their assumptions.
“You made quick time.” James patted his horse’s neck.
“I decided to ride, rather than cumber myself with the carriage.” Camden preferred the freedom of his own mount, the feeling of the open air, the speed he could attain. It was his remaining indulgence. He sat taller.
“We are to see my new home. Would you like to join us?” James and his new wife were soon to move into a house nearby, only a few miles from Darcy’s estate, Pemberley.
Darcy’s jaw flexed. There was no point in antagonizing his host, not without good reason.
“I thank you, but perhaps some other time. I have an errand in Lambton.” Camden raised his hand in salute.
James nodded and the two men rode on. Camden continued into the village. The slight breeze rustled against his coat. Responsibilities were a weighty thing. He hopped from his horse, the impact of the ground pressing him in on himself. As this thing had—that any cousin of his, using his position as next in line to the estate to garner debt and, worse, take advantage of young women...It sickened Camden, and brought home to him the fault in his own behavior as nothing else had. He had done what he could to make things right, and that was his purpose now.
The small cottage was situated pleasantly, in a little row of cottages off the village green, their stone facings mellow in the early summer sunlight. He strode through the garden, stopping to finger one of the blush roses beginning to bloom. Its soft petals eased the weight upon him. He stood taller.
His knock on the door was answered by a red-cheeked maid. She announced him at the entrance to a small parlor. Four ladies sat within—Mrs. Wilton and her niece, whom he had met before, and sworn to secrecy about his help in their predicament, and two young women, both dark-haired and smiling pleasantly. They stood. The taller of the two tilted her head. The gentle arc of her neck drew his gaze. He followed the trail to her delicate cheekbones, her high forehead. She had the features of a lady, a true gentlewoman. He had not met many of late and she impressed him.
He bowed. Mrs. Wilton, her lacy cap as fluttery as her movements, greeted him. “Ah, Sir Camden, so kind of you to call.” Her voice dipped, nervousness apparent. “These two young ladies you will see again—allow me to introduce Mrs. James Fitzwilliam and Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
He bowed again. Which was Miss Darcy? In her fidgeting, Mrs. Wilton had not indicated who was James’s wife and who was not. And it became increasingly
“Thank you for the visit, Mrs. Wilton, Miss Wilton. We should be going.” Miss Darcy smiled. Her companion followed her to the door.
Camden swallowed back the words of denial—the protestations that they should stay and continue their visit. He would prefer it, but his business here was private. Assumptions would be made again, but he could not help that. He hoped Miss Darcy would be above such assumptions, but if her distasteful expression was any indication, he had not much hope.
Miss Darcy passed close. Her scent, the pale blush of her skin, echoed the roses he had just admired. He let out a breath and walked to Miss Wilton, who sat still on the sofa. Mrs. Wilton walked her other guests out.
“Won’t you sit?” Miss Wilton’s voice was liltingly tired. Her protruding belly told the tale of her coming trial. “I can ring Molly for tea, if you like.”
“Thank you, but do not trouble yourself. How are you?” He eased his posture, but he fingered his coat, the rough fabric reminding him where he was, who he was.
“Is he come with you?” Miss Wilton’s eyes widened. She blinked back tears.
“No. I am sorry.” Camden bent his head and then glanced at Miss Wilton. She had closed her eyes and sat back, pressed into the cushions. “I believe he has gone, to America. I will do all I can for you. If you wish it, I will send men after him, have him persuaded home.” He crossed his arms. The weight of his actions, and his cousin’s actions, sank into him.
Miss Wilton shook her head. “He is a scoundrel. I do not wish him back, if he does not want to come.” Tears tracked her cheeks. “And it is not your duty...”
“It is. Do not protest. I will give all the help I can. Please allow me to do this. I ought have taken him in hand before it came to this...” He fisted his hands.
“It is not your fault.”
Would that Camden could believe that. But while he had not perpetrated this wrong, he had unwittingly encouraged his cousin’s dissolute behavior with his own recklessness. He felt his nostrils flare, the gesture of an angry animal. He rolled his neck and breathed deeply. A faint lingering of roses caused him to glance about the room and uncross his arms.
“Are you well, dearest?” Mrs. Wilton hurried into the room. She held her niece’s hand.
“I am a little tired. If you will excuse me...” Miss Wilton pulled herself up.
Camden bowed. She gave him a small smile and slowly walked from the room.
“May I get you anything, Sir Camden?” Mrs. Wilton twisted a handkerchief in her frail hands.
“Please, call me Camden. I am here to see what can be done. You need not put yourself out.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Wilton sighed down onto the sofa. “You are a dear man. I do not know why people talk of you so...” Her papery cheeks reddened, as much as her maid’s had.
Camden chuckled. “I am well aware of my reputation, though I had not thought it to stretch to this tiny village.”
“I have friends and relations in many a town. People do talk.”
“They do indeed. Are people being kind here?” He walked to the window. The sky brightened as morning passed.
“Most do not know the truth. They believe my niece is a war widow. We call her Mrs. Hammond. Only my oldest friends here have either been told—or ascertained—the truth. That includes dear Miss Darcy. She was a kind girl and she has grown into the model of a good young woman.”
“I am surprised such a proper young woman would be accepting of—”
“Oh, sir, do not say so! She has been a dear, she and Mrs. Fitzwilliam. They both understand my niece’s position, the folly she found herself in. It is the man, who knew better, whom we hold responsible.”
Camden had not seen Mrs. Wilton so moved before. He walked back to her, sat in the nearest chair, and held her hand briefly. “I did not mean to disturb you. Now, let us talk about what needs be done to provide for your niece and her child.”
Mrs. Wilton nodded. “You are a good man.” Mrs. Wilton stopped fidgeting, composed in the assurance of her opinions.
If only Camden could share her assertion. It was enough, for now, that he was set on a new course. He hoped it was in time to prevent a wreck.
Chapter Two
Georgiana pursed her lips as she settled in the carriage across from Kitty.
“He’s my James’s friend.” Kitty frowned, apparently thinking similar thoughts to Georgiana’s.
“Why was he there? He is no relation of theirs, I am sure.” Georgiana sighed. “Has James spoken of him to you?”
“Only that he was glad of this visit, for he had been concerned that the war and loss of his family had ill effects on Sir Camden, making him careless, reckless.”
“And what is more reckless than leaving a woman in such a predicament?” Georgiana fingered her necklace.
“Then why return?”
“Perhaps he feared discovery since they settled so close to mutual friends.”
“You do not believe that any more than I, Georgiana. You more than anyone believe the best in people.”
“There is something about him...” Even in their brief meeting, he had a certain careless charm, so much like her first—not love, but attraction, to George Wickham. And the two men had more in common—tall, handsome, well-mannered, well-dressed. At least there could be no doubt Sir Camden Sutton would not try to woo her for her fortune, as he had enough of his own, even with his careless ways of recent years, if James was correct. Georgiana did not hear much gossip, but even she had heard mention of Sir Camden from Caroline Bingley, whose hopes had been much disappointed in her last London season by such men as he—wealthy but not wanting to marry, more interested in the gaming table than the dance floor.
Georgiana warmed at the thought that at least she had avoided London this year. And hopefully would in the future. Georgiana preferred the countryside.
“My James will soon sort it out.” Kitty’s habitual smile returned. She had all faith in her husband, as well she should, for James was a good man, a gentleman. Still, he was a man, and no man was infallible, even if Georgiana could find little fault in her brother, or her cousin and co-guardian James.
Georgiana nodded. But it was unlikely James would involve himself, for he and her brother did not know the truth of Miss Wilton, who all else called Mrs. Hammond. And James was as in love and distracted by it as his wife. Which was as it should be. Georgiana tugged on her necklace until it pushed into the back of her neck. It was to her to discern the truth, to decide. She must trust her judgment. She was no longer the naïve girl George Wickham had fooled. She was a woman of sense and feeling.
Georgiana placed her hands on either side of her. The carriage rolled along the drive to Pemberley. The woods greened, flowers in bloom dotted color through the landscape, as if an artist had carefully brushed each detail. And one had, the greatest artist of all, with help from the labors of the Pemberley gardeners. The sound of the little river rushing reminded her of the constant movement and change of life. This change was easy to forget here at home.
She and Kitty exited the carriage. The house stood, solid and unchanging...Yet that was not so. The stone, with each year, mellowed, improvements and restoration made. Georgiana shivered, not from the gentle summer breeze.
Kitty slid her arm in Georgiana’s. Her friend’s warmth steadied her. Love, love changed, but was constant. Love surrounded Georgiana. She had nothing to fear.
***
The assembled company met in the drawing room before dinner. Georgiana sat on a sofa with Kitty and James. A small smile gentled her as she listened to their light discourse about their new home, while watching her dear brother and Lizzy sitting together on another sofa. Lizzy held her belly as if the baby was already with them, and it almost brought Georgiana to tears, the tenderness of Lizzy’s movements, and the expression of contentment on her brother’s handsome face. He had never been so happy.
The fire played shadows against the far wall, and the canary silk curtains were drawn against the chill summer eve. Her newly married cousins, Anne and Alfred, sat together by the window in two matching Adam chairs. The other pair was occupied by Sir Camden and the recently arrived Caroline Bingley, who had made the journey from her brother’s home. From the apparent distaste Caroline showed for her new nephew, it was no surprise she had taken up the casual offer to join them here at Pemberley for their house party. No doubt Lizzy had offered for Jane’s sake, as Jane was too kind to press any guest to depart, however odious or tiresome he—or she—may be.
