A Timely Elopement by Joana Starnes

Author:Joana Starnes [Starnes, Joana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Today more than ever, the jesting comment that Bingley had once made about him was uncannily close to the mark: he was in a pretty awful temper on this dull and wet Sunday, while restlessly moving about his house with nothing to do.

Georgiana was from home. When he had returned from Cheapside, Darcy had learned from his butler that Lady Malvern and her daughters had called earlier – in order to evade Lady Catherine, he not unreasonably suspected – and, upon their departure, had asked Georgiana to come with them and spend the rest of the day with some acquaintance or another.

Fitzwilliam had taken himself to Malvern House to notify his father and their aunt of the developments, or rather lack thereof, and then aimed to escape to his club.

Darcy had refused the invitation to join him in that questionable amusement. The company of rowdy officers held precious little appeal at the best of times, and he was highly unlikely to derive any enjoyment from it today.

He had busied himself for a while with some neglected correspondence, and was now spending his time in the least profitable manner: brandy in hand, he was brooding over the recent past and the immediate future. Three days had elapsed since his aborted proposal at Hunsford – a mere three days, but unnecessarily eventful. If he had his way…

The useless reflection made him slam the half-empty glass on the nearest table with an oath. He had always scoffed at those who would waste time dwelling on ‘if only’. It was for fools and weaklings to sit about bemoaning their misfortunes and lost opportunities. A man worth his salt made his own luck.

He strode to his desk and availed himself of pen and paper. If he did not wish to have his time with Elizabeth spoiled by Tyndall, the answer was simple: they should meet on his own terms – at his own house. Fitzwilliam was in the right: an invitation to a small family dinner was in order.

He began to write, addressing himself to Mrs Gardiner, of course. Yet once he had penned the straightforward opening, the arrival to specifics gave him pause. What day should he choose? The morrow was too soon. Civility demanded that he give more notice. Were they likely to be free on Tuesday? Wednesday? He frowned at the prospect of notes going back and forth between his house and the Gardiners’, in a protracted endeavour to agree upon a convenient date.

Darcy set his pen down and leaned back in his seat. There was an easier way. It would be irregular – and moreover would make him look like an impatient schoolboy – but so be it.

He flicked the lid of the inkwell down, crumpled the unfinished letter and disposed of it in the basket, then crossed the room to tug the bell pull.

“I need the carriage,” he told the footman, when young Simon promptly came in to attend him.

* * * *

‘Of all the idiotic notions,’ Darcy inwardly cursed his impetuous decision as he followed Mrs Gardiner out of the parlour.

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