The Remarkable Miss Darcy Read online

  Lydia clucked her tongue. "Impropriety? You must get out more."

  "I have been waiting three years…" Georgiana let her sentence trail off, unable to finish her thought without sounding pathetic.

  "That is your problem. You see? Patience is not the virtue everyone touts it to be. You must go out and snatch what you want! How perfect we are to go to the ball this evening! Who knows what might happen? The possibilities are delicious!"

  Lydia's enthusiasm nearly pulled Georgiana out of her guilty melancholy. Elizabeth, too, was excited for the evening. She had not left the house since Rose's birth six months ago. Elizabeth was even willing to risk the mischief three-and-a-half-year-old Ben was certain to get into while his mother was away, but she would not be denied a night of dancing and conversation. Not even William dared to suggest they stay in when his wife so dearly loved to dance and laugh.

  Georgiana tried to summon an acceptable level of excitement, but she preferred to keep company with people deserving of her trust. The rakes and scoundrels — the Georges of the world — infiltrated balls like rats sniffing out their next meal. Georgiana despised them.

  Chapter 2

  Michael Nelson trotted toward the building in which his apartment was housed, his pace slowing with each step that brought him closer to his door. The spring breeze would not have warmed the cold room in his absence, nor would it have filled the barren space with a hint of its sweet perfume. The warmth kindling in his chest would not be stifled. It begged to be shared.

  He had half a mind to turn around and go, instead, to Nathan's home. His childhood friend would delight in hearing his good news as much as Michael wished to tell it to him.

  But first, he would leave the bread Mrs. Porter had given him inside. What a lovely family, deserving of their good fortune. It had been difficult for Michael to part from their company. Theirs was a home, full of welcome and cheer, not an empty house … which was what awaited him at the top of the landing.

  Carrying the loaf in one hand, Michael pushed open the door to his small apartment and was surprised when a stream of warm air brushed against his face and a smile as familiar to Michael as his own greeted him by the lit fireplace.

  "I took the liberty of letting myself in," Nathan Bradford said, poking at the fire with an iron.

  Michael looked at the table he used to write on and dine at by the window. It was laden with fruit, freshly baked bread, a hefty triangle of cheese, and a bottle of wine. Michael did not have to look closely to know it was French wine. Nathan never settled for second best.

  "That is not the only liberty you have taken, I see," Michael said, adding Mrs. Porter's gift to the spread. In two steps, he joined Nathan by the fire, sinking into one of the wingback chairs angled to absorb the heat.

  Michael had not realized how sore his feet were until they no longer bore his weight. Resting his head against the cushion, he let his muscles relax. "I am glad you are here. I was on my way to see you."

  "You mean, you did not wish to spend any longer than necessary in this shell you call an abode? Shocking!" Nathan said, setting down the iron and occupying the chair opposite Michael.

  His friend knew him too well. Nonetheless, Michael defended his room, perhaps out of habit (for is it not the purpose of a dedicated barrister to defend the accused?) "There is no sense making my apartment comfortable when I am so rarely home."

  "You are too busy helping others improve themselves to help yourself," Nathan said, leveling his firm look at Michael.

  "It is what makes me happy. You should try it." Michael bit his lips to keep from smiling. As usual, Nathan sported a new waistcoat — a fine satin judging from the sheen of the texture — and a jacket cut in the latest fashion, with a narrow waist and padded shoulders. His Hessian boots were polished and tasseled. His cravat was the work of an artist who, no doubt, devoted hours to perfecting the intricate folds with which to better showcase the diamond sparkling from the center of the delicate fabric. If Nathan gave half as much attention to a person in need than he did to himself, he could change a man's life. He had changed his life. Imagine what he could do now he had the means to better serve others?

  Nathan grinned, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder. "Why should I go out of my way to help the helpless when you do enough for two men? But I will ask because I know you are bursting to share your news, and I am in need of some cheer. What have you been up to today?"

  Leaning forward, Michael asked, "Do you remember the Porters?"

  "Which ones are they? The drunk with the horde of children?"

  "No. They are the Wellers." Michael frowned. He had tried to help them, too, but the temptation Mr. Weller found at the bottom of a bottle had been too much for him to resist. As miserable as Mr. Weller was when he was sober enough to notice his state, he had not wished to make the changes necessary to improve his lot. Nor would he accept the assistance Michael had repeatedly offered him and his family.

  Forcing his failure aside, Michael said, "Mr. Porter was the brick maker with a sickly wife and five children. I met him during the last circuit assizes when his employer was accused of theft and attempted to cast the blame on him. Seeing how diligent Mr. Porter was in his work, and knowing he would soon be without employment, I recommended him to Mr. Gardiner. I thank you for suggesting him."

  Nathan nodded. "Gardiner has a reputation for kindness. He is a good man — both tradesman and gentleman."

  The edge in Nathan's tone did not slip by Michael. As the son of a gentleman who had been forced into trade, Nathan resented the disdain with which the upper classes treated those who would improve their circumstances by engaging in business.

  Michael could not blame him. As the second son of a gentleman without two coins to rub together, he worked harder than most. But society saw Michael's profession as gentlemanly, and so they occasionally included him in their activities. They never invited Nathan.

  "Mr. Gardiner gave Mr. Porter a job at his warehouse on the docks. A job with steady pay and an employer who will treat him fairly. I called on him and his family. They are faring extremely well." Once again, Michael's heart filled with joy at their change of circumstance.

  "They are fortunate to have you as a friend. I hope they thanked you appropriately."

  The repeated thanks the dear family had bestowed upon Michael had not felt deserved. Nor did he wish to hear Nathan's praise. "My role was a trifling one. It was Mr. Porter's hard work and reliability which has ensured the security of his continued employment."

  "All the same, you deserve to celebrate."

  Reluctantly, Michael said, "I have been invited to a ball this evening." He hated to be included when his friend was not, but he knew Nathan would pry the information out of him one way or another.

  "You sound as if you would rather have a tooth pulled out than go. If that is on my account, rest assured I have other plans. Miss Gladden's family has invited me to join their dinner party." Nathan fell silent, a silly grin only a man without full possession of his heart could express.

  Could this day improve any more? Michael rejoiced in Nathan's good fortune. "I am happy for you, Nathan. Mr. Gladden is proof there are gentlemen who place more value on the man than on his status."

  Nathan rubbed his hands against his breeches nervously. "I have not asked him for her hand in marriage yet."

  "But you intend to ask?"

  "Constance … er, Miss Gladden … insists her father will approve."

  Michael's heart was so full, he thought he might burst. "I have no doubt you shall be the happiest of couples. Congratulations, my friend."

  "I would like to see you settled in a proper home," Nathan said, his expression much too serious for the occasion.

  Just as he had feared, Michael had slowed enough for loneliness to catch up with him. It hit him with a force that left him breathless. He longed for a home, for a woman he could care for and give his heart to … but he did not know of any ladies who would be willing to live as he d
id. Constant movement, conversation with the lower classes, friendships crossing social boundaries — it was too much for a lady accustomed to quiet accomplishments and proper calling hours. She would resent the energy he expended on behalf of others, and he would be caught between his desire to please her and his need to be useful.

  Clucking his tongue, Nathan said, "At the least, you need a manservant. It pains me to know you return to this after an arduous day." He spread his hand and waved it over the apartment.

  Michael's eyes followed the direction of Nathan's hand. He could see every detail in the room in one blink. It would be a punishment to keep a manservant here when the space was only large enough for one man.

  Nathan continued, "And when was the last time you paid a call to the tailor? You are in desperate need of a new coat. If it is money you need, I would be happy to give you some. I have too much of it as it is."

  While Michael appreciated Nathan's generosity, he could not accept it. "It is not money I lack, it is time. If you find a way to purchase hours, I would gladly buy them from you."

  "Which does not change the fact that you need a new coat. My tailor is efficient. He will not waste your time."

  "If you seek to do something worthwhile with your fortune, I beg you to extend your kindness beyond me. Open a factory and hire boys from the workhouse. Feed them good food, give them shelter, grant them dignity by paying them a decent wage without being shackled to a machine that will eventually maim them."

  "You are only just back from the circuit assizes where you ought to have got your fill of helping the needy, and now you would involve me in your schemes? I know you mean well, and I know I would benefit immensely were I to allow myself to be influenced by you more fully, but I cannot be changed."

  "Cannot or will not? There is a significant difference."

  Nathan scowled. "Do you not have more work with which to occupy yourself from the chambers? Perhaps you should direct your attention in that quarter."

  Michael sighed. "To the contrary. They are of the unanimous opinion I need some time away from my duties." He did not share their opinion. He would rather be busy.

  Nathan nodded. "I am glad to hear it. You are a dedicated barrister, I will give you that. Of course, you stand to earn a great deal more if you took on the cases that actually pay."

  "The poor deserve a proper defense too."

  "And you deserve proper remuneration for your efforts. It is not selfish to exchange payment for your time. It is good business. It is fine for you to defend the needy, but you often chase after errant children from wealthy families when they can afford their own inquiry agents. Why not use that to your advantage so you may continue as the barrister of the beggarly?"

  Michael would not trade his life for the world. "I enjoy what I do. And my chambers benefit from the connections I give them."

  Nathan groaned. "You and your selfless altruism. You would have me try to change the world as you do. But some people simply do not want your help. Few enough are grateful for it."

  Michael raised a finger. "That is not the point. You cannot give, always expecting something in return."

  Seeing that his argument fell on disbelieving ears, he added, "The few who do benefit are well worth the effort. Or do you believe Mr. Carstone was a fool for taking you under his wing?"

  Mr. Carstone, not having an heir of his own, had shown kindness to Nathan when he most needed it. When he possessed nothing more than the clothes he wore — and had no prospect of ever having anything better than that in the debtor's prison. Nathan had nothing but gracious speech for his benefactor … unlike the unethical men responsible for his situation and of whom he did not deign to speak at all.

  "You would use him against me to prove your point. I ought to know better than to argue with a barrister with as much experience in the art of persuasion as you have," Nathan grumbled good-naturedly.

  Michael inclined his head, accepting the praise with humor.

  Continuing with a chortle, Nathan said, "If you seek to change the subject from the ball by bringing up a past we had best forget, I assure you I will not be distracted. I have made my fortune, and it pains me to watch you seeing to the happiness of others when you ought to see to your own."

  "I am happy," Michael interrupted.

  "You are lonely," Nathan corrected. Continuing, he said, "It is settled. You must fall in love with a rich heiress at the ball tonight and convince her to marry you. Your views are romantic and your speech persuasive enough, I have no doubt of your success. You can live comfortably off her dowry, and she would be happy occupying herself with your care."

  Michael sighed at Nathan's ridiculous speech. He did not want a life of leisure when it was a partner he sought. "You are full of advice."

  "And I hope you will heed it for once in your life. Dance with a lady of fortune who would be happy to take you off my hands. Perhaps she would have greater success seeing you to the tailor."

  Michael doubted any ladies of fortune would be tempted to go beyond a brief exchange with him. One look at the frayed edges of his coat would be enough to send most to the opposite end of the ballroom … which made him all the more determined to don his coat as it was for the remainder of the season.

  A kindhearted, sincere lady who would love him despite his humble and often disordered life and lack of family connections was an illusion. But Michael had a touch of the dreamer about him, and he was patient.

  If she existed, he would keep searching until he found her. The day had been such an exceptional one, Michael did not disregard the possibility — no matter how slight — of meeting her at the ball that evening.

  Chapter 3

  Just as Michael had predicted, not one lady paid him any more attention than they did to the servants carrying glasses of champagne through the halls. In fact, the servants were more sought out by parched dancers seeking refreshments in the stuffy rooms than he was.

  Not that Michael minded. As much as he enjoyed conversing with friends and acquaintances, he was equally entertained by observing them.

  Even the chairs lining the outer wall were empty, which pleased Michael greatly. No lady should have to endure the humiliation of watching everyone else dance while her lack of partners was made plain for all in attendance due to some fault she was usually powerless to change.

  The refreshment table beckoned Michael with its position near the windows and its excellent view of the occupants of the room. He would sip punch at ease while taking in his surroundings. People were diverting to contemplate if one took the time to notice them. Each individual created a story of their own which intrigued Michael with its endless possibilities. Was this her first ball? Would the gentleman propose to the lady with whom he had already danced a set? Would the widow find happiness again? How many balls would the father attend during his daughter's debut into society?

  Everyone looked so lively, it was easy for Michael to imagine contented childhoods and blessed futures for them. He wished their joy to continue long after the excitement of the ball wore off. He wished each of them a happy ending.

  Reaching for a glass, a puzzling sight captured Michael's vision — two satin slippers peeking out from under a curtain. The embroidery stitched on the tips of the toes proclaimed their owner to be a lady of favorable circumstances, but their lack of wear suggested the lady had danced as much as he had. Michael wondered if she had spent the entire ball behind the curtain.

  Who was she? Why was she hiding?

  An answer to Michael's inquisitiveness soon presented itself in the form of three young men conversing with all the enthusiasm of a pack of Corinthians engaged in sport.

  The slippers disappeared behind the curtain as the sound of their voices grew louder. They lingered in front of the table, thirsty from their hunt.

  One remarked, "I think she went that way."

  "I will wager she dances with me before you," said another.

  "Dance with her? I shall marry her. The betting book at White's p
romises a fortune to the man who—"

  "That fortune is mine…"

  "Do you care to make a wager on that?"

  Tossing back the contents of their glasses, they proceeded down the length of the room, their voices fading as they disappeared into the crowd.

  Good riddance to them. Michael had no patience for those who held little respect for the future and reputation of anyone, much less a lady with whom they would attach themselves for a selfish purpose. To them she was nothing more than the means by which to win a bet.

  Michael returned his attention to the curtain. He felt certain the lady of whom the gentlemen spoke was the same lady who had ensconced herself behind the draperies. He sympathized with her. A long, dull evening awaited her if she were to spend it behind the stiff silk panels. She must be shy.

  Picking up another glass of punch, Michael rounded the table as the lady peeked out from behind the curtain.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  Fair hair the color of summer fields framed porcelain skin with rosebud lips. Her eyes were larkspur blue.

  Michael recognized her immediately. She had been lovely when he had first met her five years ago, but Miss Georgiana Darcy was grown up now. She was stunning.

  Georgiana hated being forced behind the curtain, but desperation made the more sporting gentlemen persistent despite her repeated refusals. It had become a game to them to see how far they could press her patience, and she refused to play along. It injured her pride to be treated as if she did not know her own mind. They were the ones who acted in selfish ignorance, believing their flirtations so irresistible and her mind so weak she would succumb to their empty flattery. Georgiana was patient and forbearing, but she had her limits.

  On the positive side, she could see the archway leading out to the hall, providing a constant stream of people coming and going. Watching them was nearly as satisfying as going to the theater.