The Second Mrs Darcy (18 page)

Lord Rutherford had not planned to make the journey north, not at this time of the year. He had a sense of duty to the vast castle which was his family home, but he never had any desire to spend more time there than he had to. It was a duty, a responsibility, not a pleasure; he was of a modern cast of mind, and although he would not dream of selling even a square yard of his land, nor neglecting the upkeep of every one of the numerous walls and battlements and towers, still, he was never happy there.

His steward was an experienced, competent man, who was glad to see him, and who at once made an appointment for him to go through any number of papers the next morning.

“You have come upon parliamentary business, I feel sure,” the steward said. “You will want to go over to Axby this afternoon, to meet the electors and introduce them to Mr. Stanley.”

Rutherford had brought Septimus Stanley with him, not a man he greatly cared for, but considered a rising star in the Party; he was to fill the seat at Axby. He was a thin man with a supercilious lip, and Sholto had taken no great pleasure in his company on the journey north. Rutherford had driven himself, changing the horses of his curricle along the road, and so he had not had to endure so much of his companion's dull conversation; the evenings when they put up at an
inn one night and at a friend's house the next had been rather more of a trial.

The steward was hovering, having been about to take his leave.

“What is it, Shuttleforth?” Lord Rutherford asked. “Out with it.”

“The late owner of Axby Hall died last year. A Mrs. Worthington. You will not have known her, my lord, she never lived in these parts.”

“So I heard. And?”

“The new owner of Axby Hall—and therefore the owner of most of the houses in the town of Axby—is here at the moment.”

“Is he, by God? Do you mean I shall have to call on him? What a bore.”

“It is a her.”

“Oh, a woman. Well, and where is she staying?”

“With the Forsytes.”

“Then I'll pay a duty visit when I go over there with Stanley. We can introduce him to Forsyte at the same time.”

Shuttleforth coughed. “Begging your lordship's pardon, but it isn't so simple.”

“Why not?”

“It seems that this new owner wants to put up her own candidate. And it is to be Mr. Forsyte.”

“Mr. Forsyte? Impossible. The Party will never stand for it.”

But when he met his political agent, who had overseen the election in both Axby and the Castle seats, Lord Rutherford swiftly realised that the Party would have no say.

“It has been an understood thing that we choose the candidate for Axby, with the late Mrs. Worthington taking no interest at all in politics. However, in law—well, if she chooses a candidate, the voters will put him in, they can't well do otherwise. They are not going to be setting themselves up in defiance of their landlord. Same as the voters here wouldn't go against your lordship's choice.”

“We'll see about this,” said Lord Rutherford. “Who is this interfering woman who thinks she can come meddling in matters she knows nothing about?”

“She is a stranger to these parts, perhaps that's why she doesn't
quite understand how we do this. She is a widow, a Mrs. Darcy. Member of the same family as the Darcys of Derbyshire, I dare say. She is a great-niece of the Worthingtons and I understand has inherited a substantial fortune from them, of which Axby and Axby Hall are only a small part.”

Rutherford was speechless. “Mrs. Darcy? Are you serious? Do you mean the Mrs. Darcy who is a tall, fair woman, recently arrived from India, sister to the Melburys? I don't believe it. She's no money, no fortune; you must be mistaken. I know her family well, unfortunately, and they would not keep such an inheritance quiet, I assure you. She is here on false pretences. I shall have to find out what kind of a game she is playing.”

Rutherford rode to Axby, a distance of some five miles across country, and he was glad of the ride on a fresh, active horse, well up to his weight, a hunter he himself had bought only the previous year, but hadn't yet ridden to hounds. He was not particularly keen on hunting; he went out from time to time, usually when staying with friends in Leicestershire or the other great hunting counties. His was essentially an urban life, despite his vast estates, and he preferred it that way; he was at home in the clubs and salons of London, and most of all in Parliament; for the long months when the House wasn't in session, he was still active in the business of politics. He held no high government position, being a Whig, but he was a close associate of Castlereagh's, knowledgeable about foreign affairs, and often acting on his lordship's behalf when that active statesman was abroad, conducting delicate negotiations in the aftermath of the Napoleonic wars.

Rutherford let his horse have its head, taking little notice of the countryside around him; familiar to him from his boyhood, it held no novelty to draw his eye away from his internal musings.

Until his attention was attracted by the sight of another horseman, galloping in the distance under the long shadow of Axby Fell. No, he was out, it was a woman. He frowned. Riding alone, at a headlong pace. It must be one of the Henty girls, who were for ever careering about the countryside on their ponies and horses, instead of
sitting at home and minding their stitches and attending to their music lessons. Still, he had to admit that their unusual upbringing did make them into more pleasant companions than most of their sex; the eldest girl had married a friend of his, and it was an unusual but a happy match, and Julia Henty, as she had been before her marriage, was shaping up as an excellent political hostess, an asset to her husband in his political life, for all she'd probably never produced so much as a single sampler in her girlhood.

He lost sight of the other rider as he topped the hill and reined in his horse to make his way down the steep path that would bring him out behind Axby Hall. From there he could take a tack into the village, skirting the Hall; he had no intention of calling upon Mr. Forsyte until he had spoken to his agent, who should be waiting for him in Axby.

Damn Urquhart for being so gross in his habits, and celebrating his victory—his undisputed victory—too well. If he had restrained himself, he, Rutheirford, would not have had to leave London at a most inconvenient time and certainly would not have found himself having to sort out this stupid tangle.

As he set his horse at the gate that would take him on to the track, he heard the beat of hooves behind him. He drew aside into the lane as the rider set the horse at the gate and went over it perfectly.

It was Mrs. Darcy. Riding a raking bay, far too big and strong a ride for any woman, although she certainly was a good horsewoman, handling him with a light hand.

“Your servant, ma'am,” he said, removing his hat.

Her cheeks were tipped with colour, and she had an exultant look in her eye; how he disliked an emotional woman.

“Lord Rutherford,” she said, nodding her head at him. “I have had such a capital gallop.”

“I saw you. Where is your groom?”

“Oh, I did not bring a groom with me. I was riding on Mr. Forsyte's land, I could come to no harm.”

“Had your horse stumbled, or—”

“Then they would have sent a search party out for me in due
course, and if I had broke my neck, then it would not have mattered whether there was a groom about or not. You look as though you would like to break someone's neck for them, Lord Rutherford. Are you here to call upon Mr. Forsyte?”

“Not at present.”

Drat the woman for her insouciance, had she no sense of decorum? “I have business in the town of Axby.”

“Parliamentary business?” she asked.

Was she laughing at him?

“As it happens, yes. And since I have met you, perhaps I might mention—”

“You do not like my candidate for the seat, I can see it in your face. Is that based upon rational grounds, or do you merely choose not to have anyone treading on your toes?”

“My dear Mrs. Darcy, I hardly think you are a proper person to discuss this with. I shall talk to my agent and to some people in Axby and then I shall call upon Mr. Forsyte. But first of all, I—”

“It is quite true that I have offered him the seat, if that is what you wish to ascertain.”

“You have offered him the seat—upon my word, I cannot think what game you think you are playing.”

“It is no game. I have discovered that, as owner more or less of the village of Axby, and landlord to most of its voters, the seat lies in my gift, as it were. I had no idea parliamentary seats were thus allotted. I have been in India, you know, and I paid little attention to such things when I was a girl in Dorset. However, Axby is to have a new MP, and I have decided that Mr. Forsyte is the man.”

“The choice of a candidate in such a case is made in London. There are political issues involved, which I dare say you do not properly understand.”

“I am very sure you are right.”

“Axby returns a Whig, it has always returned a Whig.”

“Well, you must argue it out with Mr. Forsyte as to exactly what his political allegiance is; I understand that he is more a Whig than a Tory, and more a Radical than either.”

“A Radical! Well, that is exactly my point …”

“He is a sensible man, a lawyer, he seems to me just the sort you need in the House. Much more so than the drunken buffoon whom I gather has represented this borough these last ten years. Mr. Forsyte can only be an improvement.”

“I have nothing against Mr. Forsyte, an estimable man, I dare say, and a veritable Cicero among lawyers, however—”

“However, you want to put up your own candidate. Well, you may do so, but I am reliably informed that, great though your power and influence is, mine is the greater here, locally. It is all a matter of rents and so on, you will understand that better than I do.”

He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing how angry he was. How could this young woman, this nobody, as Snipe had rightly called her, be sitting here on that horse whom she could hardly control—he knew he was being unfair, she had the animal well in hand—defying him like this?

“I feel sure, Mrs. Darcy, that your brother Arthur Melbury—”

“My half brother, Lord Rutherford.”

“Very well, your half brother, will be as alarmed by your impetuous action as I am.”

“Is that a threat, Lord Rutherford? I do not care for threats.”

“A threat? I threaten you? I merely wish to warn you—”

“Stop there, or you will later wish that you had done so. After being bullied and harassed by my brother Arthur for most of my life, I am now in the delightful position of finding myself an independent woman in charge of my own fortune and life, and I do not give a jot for Arthur's opinion. Nor whether you have sufficient influence to hinder the advancement in Parliament he so keenly longs for.”

“Family feeling—”

“I have little family feeling. My mind is made up. Nothing you say or do will alter it. If you choose to vent your temper at being thwarted on my brother, then so be it, and I shall think the less of you for it. Good day to you, my lord.”

With which words she turned her horse's head, gave his flank a light tap with her whip, and cantered down the rutted track towards the Hall.

Octavia was ruffled by her encounter with Rutherford, more so than she admitted to Mr. Forsyte when she told him of the outcome of her ride.

“Lord Rutherford is not a man to cross,” said Mr. Forsyte. “I told you so when you offered me the seat.”

“It is I who am crossing him, not you. You are surely not going to let him have his way,” cried Octavia. “You are surely not going to submit to this kind of overriding of what anyone else's wishes may be.” Then she recollected herself. “I am sorry, I forgot, you are a neighbour, it might make for awkwardness.”

“I should not exactly call Lord Rutherford a neighbour,” said Mr. Forsyte. “Apart from the fact that he is rarely in this country, we are too small fry for him, he does not visit in Axby.”

“But you have not changed your mind? You won't turn down the seat?” said Octavia, surprised at how keenly disappointed she would feel if he had.

“Not at all,” replied Mr. Forsyte, and his wife was quick to agree. “It is a matter of what one believes in, one's views cannot be swayed by whether Lord Rutherford approves or disapproves,” he said seriously. “If I sit for Axby, I shall be a thorn in the side of Whigs, for I disagree with them on many points, but I shall be an even bigger thorn in the flesh of the Tories, for I disagree with them upon practically every subject.”

Octavia was relieved, and they passed a most agreeable evening, Octavia gaining some insight into Radical thinking, and Mr. and Mrs. Forsyte discussing how a parliamentary career would affect their lives, given that Mr. Forsyte would have to spend many days in London.

It transpired, when Mrs. Forsyte and Octavia were sitting together after dinner, while the children were outside on the terrace
annoying the peacocks, and they were all enjoying the unusual warmth of an early summer evening, that Mrs. Forsyte held very much the same views on absent husbands as did Harriet Thurloe.

“I shall go with him, when he has to spend any length of time in town. The children are in the care of a kind nurse and a competent governess, and I have been thinking that I shall ask my sister, my unmarried sister, who lives in Leeds, to come and live with us. The children are very fond of her, and she of them, and she is more than capable of looking after the house while I am away.”

“Is that not a cause for conflict? When you return and she has to hand over the reins of the house? Might not this prove a difficulty?”

Mrs. Forsyte laughed. “I think your sisters must be very different creatures to mine. Agnes is not a person to attempt to usurp my position as a mother or as mistress of the house. At present she lives with my brother's family; she was disappointed in love, and content to remain a spinster, so she says. She paints and loves music, and I think would like to spend more time here with these nephews and nieces, if my brother can spare her.”