Read The True Darcy Spirit Online
Authors: Elizabeth Aston
The True Darcy Spirit (36 page)
After a moment of pure astonishment, Camilla leapt into action,
coming forward to greet Mrs. Shawardine, to lead her to a seat, to order Rivers to bring refreshment.
“If that is champagne, you may pour me a glass, Mr. Wytton,” she said. “Belle, who is this man?”
Horatio ushered Henry forward. “May I have the honour to present Mr. von Lissa, a German presently residing in London? He is the son of Prince von Lissa, who—”
“You’re one of Wolfgang’s boys, are you? Yes, you take after him. I knew your dear father very well, years ago, when I was in your country for my health. You will convey my compliments and salutations to him when you write. Am I to take it that Belle has come to her senses and has chosen you for her husband, instead of all those fledglings she has been mooning over?”
Two patches of scarlet burned on Belle’s cheeks, but even she knew better than to take on Mrs. Shawardine.
“And you do indeed know Cassandra,” Horatio said, and Cassandra dropped a curtsy. “Who has done me the honour to accept my hand in marriage.”
“You’re Cassandra, are you? Your stepfather wrote to me, telling me what a hussy you had grown up to be. You don’t look like a hussy to me. No, do not bristle up, Horatio. I know all about Cassandra’s unfortunate past, and if you’ve chosen her for a wife, so be it, for I shan’t bless the union.”
Horatio, in his turn, bit back a retort. “I am sorry to hear that, Aunt, but I intend to marry Cassandra just the same.”
“In which case, you had better get that appalling man to part with her share of her grandmother’s money. No, I shall do so, he will listen to me. When are you to be married?” she said abruptly to Cassandra.
Cassandra was at a loss. She had felt that familiar chill sensation at Mrs. Shawardine’s harsh words; what did “bless their union” mean? But if she were to get some of her fortune, would not that make life much easier for Horatio, as well as for her?
“I shall marry Cassandra with or without a dowry. If she does have any of the fortune to which she is entitled, that it will be settled
on her, and on our children. I am well able to support a wife, I believe.”
“Hoity-toity,” said Mrs. Shawardine. “And don’t you look so high-and-mighty, miss, neither. I can see you’re a Darcy through and through, it’s a pity you didn’t remember some of that pride when you ran off with that rapscallion Eyre. Mind you,” she went on unexpectedly, “I can’t say I altogether blame you, for I came near to running off with his father, long ago. It wouldn’t have done, however, and it was a very wrong step for you to take.” She turned back to Horatio. “If you marry Cassandra, you do realise that she will never be accepted in the drawing rooms or ballrooms of the top ten thousand? No vouchers for Almacks for her daughters, if Sally Jersey still rules the roost, of that you may be sure.”
“I do not give a fig for Lady Jersey, nor for any other of those witches. We have our own circle of friends, where we shall do very well.”
“That’s as may be, but your friends won’t get you a seat in Parliament, I’ll be bound.”
“No,” said Mr. Wytton, who had been eyeing Mrs. Shawardine with awe. “His merits will, though, I am sure of that.”
“When I want your opinion, Mr. Wytton, I will ask for it. You are not a Darcy, please keep out of this. At least Belle is going to make a match that won’t bring shame on the family. Does her father know of this engagement?”
“There can be no engagement until I have spoken to Mr. Darcy,” said Henry. “I shall post down to Derbyshire directly.”
Mrs. Shawardine was looking at Cassandra again. “When do you propose to marry, if marry you must? I trust you will do it with discretion, the fewer people who are there the better.”
“Tomorrow,” said Horatio recklessly. “By special licence.”
Cassandra stared at him. “Do I have no say in this?” She could not imagine that even tomorrow was soon enough. “Can we not marry today?”
“Too late, it must be before twelve o’clock, but I must be off, I shall have to find a bishop.”
Camilla was laughing at him. “Where do you propose to do that? They do not lie about in the street, waiting for impatient bridegrooms, you know.”
“You’re a fool, Camilla,” said Mrs. Shawardine abruptly. “Who is that clergyman who is cousin or some such to your mama, the man who will inherit Longbourne when your grandfather dies?”
“Good Lord,” said Camilla. “I had forgotten that he has been elevated or translated or whatever it is that happens when you exchange one set of gaiters for a more purple pair. Mr. Collins is presently in London, for I had a note from the tedious man, announcing that he intends to call. He is staying at his club, you may go round there and dig him out, Horatio, for if he should happen not to be about, I dare say there are a dozen others there who will do as well, quite half the bench of bishops are there on any given day, I believe.”
“It is fortunate,” said Mrs. Shawardine, now at her most magisterial, “that there is a good excuse for such a very discreet wedding, apart”—with a sharp look at Cassandra—“from the one of not wanting to draw attention to anything Cassandra does.”
Wretched woman, thought Cassandra, who still wanted to know why Camilla and Horatio had exchanged those meaningful glances when Mrs. Shawardine had been so outspoken about her dislike of their marriage.
“Why is that?” said Mr. Wytton.
“Because it will be considered only proper, coming so close to a death in the family.”
“Who has died, for God’s sake?” cried Camilla.
“That is why I am in town, which none of you cared to enquire about. As you know, I am seldom in London these days. However, I received the sad news that my stepson, Frederick, was wounded in some vulgar brawl in a gaming hell, three nights ago. I came to see what I could do, to be greeted with news of his death.”
“Poor Frederick,” said Camilla.
“Nothing of the kind,” said Mrs. Shawardine, who did not, it was true, look at all like a grieving stepmother. “I think it better for all concerned that his life should be terminated with a sword. I do not
think he would have cared for a life abroad. No, no false protestations of grief, if you please, Camilla. He was an unpromising boy, who grew into an indolent and vicious man, his misdoings helped to bring his father to an early grave, and the world is a better place without him. There. You may write to your brother, Horatio, and tell him the news. Mr. Wytton, you may ring for my carriage, all these family entanglements are very tiring for a woman of my years.”
“Phew,” said Mr. Wytton, when he and Horatio came back from seeing her into the carriage. “Her years, indeed, she could see us all under the table first. What a truly terrifying woman, Camilla, my love, you must promise me you never become like that. I shall have it put in writing, and you shall sign it. Horatio, are you off?”
“Yes, on my bishop hunt.” He swept Cassandra up. “Never look so doleful, sweetheart, it will all work out.”
“What did she mean, she would not bless our union? She was talking about more than the usual good wishes, Horatio, was not she?”
Horatio sighed. “There was some idea of her putting me up for Frederick’s seat. That is all.”
“And she will not do so, because you have not chosen a suitable wife.”
Camilla intervened. “Stop it, both of you. Cassandra, Horatio is old enough, and man enough, to decide for himself whom he will marry and upon what terms. Do him the courtesy of saying no more about this, but merely paying attention when he sends word as to which church and at what hour you are to be married. Mr. Wytton shall give you away, and we shall attend as witnesses and to see that the knot is properly tied. Letty did say that Mr. Barcombe was coming to town around now; I wonder if he by any fortunate chance is in London. For if so, he may marry you, and then it truly is all in the family.”
“I should honeymoon in Italy, if I were you,” Wytton said almost casually. Cassandra knew why he was saying that; a quiet wedding, followed by a period abroad, might mean that the scandal of her former elopement, which was still not generally known, might be forgotten sooner that way.
“Except that Lord Usborne will spread it abroad,” she said to Camilla.
“I have an idea as to that,” said Camilla. “Leave it to me. I remember my father saying what very bad terms the late Lord Usborne and Mrs. Shawardine were on, I think we may have help from an unexpected quarter there.”
Before he went, Horatio took Lisser aside. “There is a matter, quite unconnected with Belle or Cassandra, that you might help me with. I suppose that your father is very well in at court, that he might know how to get, shall we say, a package, safely to a certain English princess without any of those English agents who watch her every step getting wind of it?”
Mr. Lisser looked interested. “It is exactly the kind of task at which my father excels. Dine with me, and you can tell me what you wish done.”
It was a very happy group that assembled at eleven o’clock the next morning at St. Clement’s Church. There had been a momentary panic, unbeknownst to Cassandra, when the bishop had asked Horatio if his intended bride had her father’s permission to marry him. However, Horatio was not a lawyer for nothing, and he found no difficulty in pulling the wool over the bishop’s eyes, by pointing out that Mr. Partington was not Cassandra’s father, and that Mr. Darcy was head of the family.
Which had the advantage of being true, and Bishop Collins was not inclined to question anything purporting to come from Mr. Darcy, of whom he was afraid.
Her cousins attended the bride to the altar, with Miss Griffin and Petifer watching from the front pew. Mr. Wytton gave Cassandra away, Mr. Lisser was best man, and Mr. and Mrs. Hopkirk arrived in time to kiss the bride and join the little party for the wedding breakfast at the Wyttons’ house, and to wave the joyful couple off on the first stage of their journey to Rome.
Cassandra sat on the broad stone window ledge of the high-ceilinged room, looking out over the sunlit roofs of the Eternal City. She could hear bells, Rome was full of bells, and in the distance she could just see the pillars of the Forum. Her sketchbook lay open on her lap, but she closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face and her body, clad in the most diaphanous of shifts.
Horatio sat up in the bed, a huge and stately affair, with cupids and beasts carved and gilded all up and down the posts. They were staying in the Palazzo Strozzi, which was owned by old friends of Mr. Wytton’s, a charming and eccentric pair, with a swarm of clever, lively sons and daughters, all of them enchanted to have the English newly-weds to stay.
Horatio held out his arms. “Come back to bed, sweetheart, before the maid brings in some more nourishing food.”
Cassandra slipped into the bed beside him, laughing at him. “They say you have to keep up your strength, to do your duty as a husband.”
“You are an abandoned hussy,” he said. “And it’s time you learned to be a dutiful wife.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door and the arrival of a beaming maid, with a tray piled high with fruit and rolls and
various other delicacies. “Also, there is a letter, from England,” she said, with pride.
“Who is it from?” asked Cassandra, attempting to eat a plum with one hand while she caressed Horatio’s neck with the other.
“If you do that, I can’t concentrate. It is from my aunt, Mrs. Shawardine.”
“Oh,” said Cassandra, suddenly not feeling so full of joie de vivre after all. “What does she say?”
Horatio let out a whoop of delight, and gave Cassandra a hearty hug, almost upsetting her bowl of plums. “I thought it would be so. The party sent down a man they wanted to have the seat, and they sent Alcock, what folly!”
“Why so?”
“Alcock’s father is another one of the succession of people with whom Mrs. Shawardine has an ancient feud. So, she writes, since from what she hears the scandal associated with your elopement is not generally known, and she has made sure Usborne will never speak of it, she wishes me to return to England and be elected to Parliament!”
“However did she silence Lord Usborne?”
“Aha, she says something about that. Good heavens, it was Usborne who ran Frederick through with his sword! My word. In return for my aunt hushing up the whole affair, he is to keep silent, and forget he has ever met you. He is in disgrace with the Prince Regent, she adds, which puts her more in charity with the man—that will be on account of the letters, dear heart—and has retired to the country, with Lady Usborne, who is, rumour has it, increasing!” Horatio put down the letter. “It is humiliating to admit it, but I don’t believe Lady U. ever cared tuppence for anyone except Usborne himself. I wish them well, and I shall be very glad indeed if Usborne takes to the land, and I never have to see him again.”
“I suppose the child is his?” said Cassandra, with a sly glance at Darcy.
It was a moment before he took that in, and then he removed her plums and reached out for her.
“Because I am blessed with a kind nature, I shall ignore that remark, and merely say that I hope our daughter inherits your beauty and your smile and your lovely eyes, but not your artful tongue.”
“Nor our son your arrogant ways.”
“No chance of that with you for his mama, but one thing we may be sure of, they will all have the true Darcy spirit; how can they possibly escape it?”
The True Darcy Spirit
Elizabeth Aston is a passionate Jane Austen devotee who studied English at Oxford. She lives in Oxford and Italy with her family.
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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A Paperback Original 2007
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EPub Edition © MAY 2010 ISBN: 978-0-007-38580-5
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