Darcy's Heart Read online

  Darcy’s Heart

  Carrie Mollenkopf

  Additional titles by Carrie Mollenkopf

  The Redemption of Caroline Bingley

  The Vocation of Mary Bennet

  The Soulmate of Kitty Bennet

  The Stubborn Pride of Lydia Bennet

  Lizzie Bennet’s Choice

  Elizabeth of Pemberley

  Matchmaking at Pemberley

  The Supernatural

  The Transformation of Georgiana Darcy

  In the Shadows of Pemberley

  Mary of Longbourn Series

  Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Heiress

  Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Tutor

  Mary Bennet and the Return of the Soldier

  Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar

  ~One~

  London 1814…

  Fitzwilliam Darcy studied his reflection carefully as Blevins, his long-standing valet, brushed imaginary lint from his master’s shoulders. The frock coat was new, of a deep blue that matched the wearer’s eyes when placed under candlelight. It had cost him dearly, but Mr. Darcy had considered the purchases justified as tonight was to be the most special of occasions. Not that our hero needed to worry about the price of his clothing. On the contrary, as a man in possession of an income that exceeded ten thousand a year, he might spend as he chose. However, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley was not a man to dress as a peacock. While appreciative of fine things, he much preferred quality over quantity. A man’s attire may demonstrate far more than the contents of his purse, and he would not appear a fool. However, his emotions that night were far from foolish, as he straightened his cuffs one last time. Having considered all other options available, as well as the lady’s reputation, accomplishments and dowry, it was with determination of his sound decision that tonight he would make a proposal of marriage.

  Lady Esmerelda Kirkwood was the perfect candidate to become his bride. From the best of families, daughter to Lord Reginald Kirkwood, a peer whose own estate was just twenty miles from his own, Esme fit every requirement suitable to be mistress of Pemberley. She was well educated, spoke both French and Italian, and sang and played the pianoforte with skill. That aside, she also took an avid interest in politics and child welfare reform, politely stating her opinions without grandstanding or overstepping what was acceptable for a lady. And, if that were not all, she was exceedingly beautiful. Her fair hair bore a trace of red, suggesting Norse ancestry that only complemented her gracefully slender figure and sea-green eyes. At twenty-two, Lady Esme had not chosen to marry, despite a number of offers, and for that small miracle, he considered himself lucky. Darcy imagined how she would appear tonight. An early Christmas ball, hosted by his close friend Charles Bingley, would create the perfect setting for a proposal. It had snowed the previous day and Darcy imagined how the thin frosty layer would turn the Bingley London home into a winter wonderland. Now, most ladies would shun the cold, fearing damage to delicate gowns and silk slippers, but not his Esme. Over the past year of their acquaintance, Darcy had escorted her on numerous outings resulting in more than one muddied hem. As an avid outdoorsman himself, it was crucial that any wife of his not mind a bit of mess. More than once had he been forced to shed his outer clothing in the scullery to prevent tracking great clods of mud through the house after a day fishing. To his mind, they were perfectly suited. Imagining the scene, he had enlisted Bingley’s help in its creation. A small gazebo stood secluded in a circle of shrubs in the far end of the garden. It was fitted with a stone alcove capable of holding a fire to warm visitors on cooler days. Darcy had arranged for a blaze to be lit and comfortable cushions placed for the event. Even the sapphire and diamond engagement ring was hidden carefully in his breast pocket. Patting his chest, Darcy felt the circlet and smiled. How could she refuse? Just days prior, he had sought an audience with her father. Propriety demanded he seek approval before proceeding, but the old man had eagerly given consent.

  “It is high time she married, and I can think of no better man,” Lord Kirkwood had said and shook his hand firmly. Having Fitzwilliam Darcy for a son-in-law would solve all his financial problems. Esme had done her part well to reach this state of affairs. All that was needed now, was the acceptance of the lady herself, and of that, he was assured.

  “How do I look?” Darcy asked his valet one last time.

  “Handsome as always, sir, but do I detect the feeling that this is no ordinary evening?”

  “Astute as always Blevins. If all goes well, we may have a Mrs. Darcy by summertime.”

  “I cannot imagine anyone worthy of your consideration refusing your offer. Congratulations sir.”

  “Thank you for your support. I hope you are right.”

  “Valets are never wrong sir,”

  “Indeed.”

  ******

  While Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy contemplated his future as a married man, another person also gave great thought to her own. Miss Caroline Bingley, the unmarried sister of Charles Bingley, had quietly observed the interactions between Mr. Darcy and Lady Esmerelda Kirkwood for the past year. A beautiful woman in her own right, and in possession of thirty-thousand pounds, Caroline had also been the pursuit of many a young man. However, her sights had always been set on the master of Pemberley. His dalliance with the charming Lady Esme was simply an unfortunate detour in this goal. For a dalliance, it truly was… at least on the part of Esme Kirkwood. Oh, Caroline had no doubts that Esme would accept any offer of marriage by Mr. Darcy, and smile agreeably, taking upon every part of the lovestruck lady, but that would only be until after the vows had been said. Miss Bingley was acutely aware of the game that Lady Esme was playing, for she was a professional in the sport herself. The only twinge of disappointment and guilt that plagued her was the realization that Darcy had an extremely soft heart. Darcy was often perceived as proud and standoffish, never showing his emotions in public, and rarely in private. Bordering on shyness, Darcy hid his dislike for large social gatherings filled with strangers by exhibiting the most proper of manners and adherence to protocols demanded by one of his class. It was this discovery that had instilled both anger and disgust in Caroline. How could such an otherwise perfect man be so easily fooled by one such as Lady Esmerelda Kirkwood. Oh, she had to admit that Esme and her family had gone to great pains to hide their genteel poverty. No penny was spared to create the façade of respectability, but Caroline easily saw through the ruse. Esme Kirkwood was seeking the highest bidder of her hand in marriage to save the family from ruin.

  Not only was Esme a fortune hunter, but she was less than respectable when it came to her own person. More than once, silence had to be bought to keep wagging tongues from telling the all too true tales of Esme’s escapades. It would be bad enough had the lady been caught with a gentleman, but Esme’s tastes ran to a much rougher sort of man. As a result, servant turn over at Kirkwood Landing was notorious, as footmen and grooms were often the ones to succumb to Esme’s advances. While Caroline could appreciate the fine figure possessed by those accustomed to manual labor, she would never stoop to any sort of compromise with one of a lower standing. Oh no, it was far better to bear the title of ice queen, or even prude for that matter, if it meant keeping one’s reputation without stain. How could Darcy not have heard the subtle remarks about Lady Esmerelda and kept the acquaintance? Was he truly so blind, or did he simply choose not to see reality? Either way, time was now of the essence to prevent catastrophe. When her brother Charles had casually let it slip that he had arranged for a romantic scenario appropriate for a man seeking a lady’s consent, Caroline knew she needed to act. Darcy would see Lady Esmerelda Kirkwood for the person she truly was, and if that meant breaking his heart in the process, so be it. Caroline would be there to gently pick u
p the pieces.

  ~Two~

  The Bingley townhome was ablaze with light as the Darcy carriage arrived nearly an hour before the ball was to begin. As a close friend, Darcy had often spent his days in London as their guest and they at his, rather than open two separate houses. But, as Charles Bingley had the additional persons of his married sister Louisa and her husband’s family in residence, the house was overflowing. Preferring a bit of quiet, Darcy had politely refused an offer of hospitality, and now stood in the great receiving hall, admiring the decorations.

  “I see your sister’s hand in this display,” Darcy said as Charles greeted him warmly.

  “Ah, yes, Caroline is a fine hostess. I do wonder what I shall do without her when she eventually marries.”

  “Is that an announcement?”

  “Heavens no… Caroline has never even hinted at such. I believe she is still holding out for you, but I suppose that may change after tonight.”

  “So, it is all ready then?”

  “As you requested. Why don’t we go out and see if it meets your approval?”

  “I am sure it will be perfect,” Darcy replied but eagerly followed his friend through the house to the gardens. As no other guests had yet arrived, the grounds lay pristine and undisturbed from last nights snowfall. The only evidence of human interference was the carefully swept flagstone path leading through the shrubs to the gazebo. Hidden from the house by a circle of lilacs that when in bloom, gave the most wonderful scent, the thick leaves, laden with snow, now provided excellent privacy. Even the lanterns and small fire were concealed from immediate view. One had to be on the small flight of steps to see inside. For inclement weather, glass had been fitted into the open areas above the decorative railing. Fogged with heat from the interior, Darcy raised a gloved hand to wipe away the moisture and peer inside. It was exactly as he imagined.

  “I will send a servant out in about an hour to bank up the fire, but after that, it is all up to you. I suppose you have a plan to lure her out there?” Charles asked with a smile.

  “Caroline will assist me, making an excuse of needing Esme’s opinion on some refurbishments of the gardens, but thank you for permitting my use of it.”

  “Anytime… who knows when I may ask you to reciprocate. All this talk of love and marriage is making me a bit nervous myself. What say we return inside for a brandy?”

  “Excellent idea, I could use a bit of fortification. I don’t plan on doing this again, once in a lifetime is enough.”

  *****

  Caroline watched from her chamber window as her brother led Darcy to the appointed place. As current mistress of the Bingley home, he had needed to enlist her assistance. It would have been impossible for Charles to direct servants without her notice, but in doing so, he had created the perfect opportunity for her interference. Eagerly volunteering to help, Caroline would ensure that Darcy would believe her ignorant of Esme’s true character.

  With the preparations for the ball, a number of additional servants had been temporarily hired. Maids, footmen and scullery were on hand to perform any task required. Caroline, knowing her rival’s penchant for handsome manservants, had chosen carefully. When Darcy planned to meet his future wife, a great surprise would lay in wait, one that she would witness herself. Smoothing the cream velvet gown, trimmed in crimson satin, it gave her the appearance of an angel. Caroline took one last look and smiled smugly at her reflection, then dismissed her maid and went below to find the selected accomplice.

  “Jason? James? What is your name again?” she demanded of the very attractive young footman.

  “It’s Jonas, Madam.” He replied with a bow.

  “Whatever, just be sure you do exactly as I said.”

  “Wait until six o’ clock. Go to the garden house, see to the fire, and wait for the lady to arrive?”

  “Yes, and do whatever she wants…. whatever she wants. Am I understood?”

  The young man, a handsome fellow with dark curling hair and green eyes, moved with the grace of a lion, despite the too tight livery. He appeared almost feral when he smiled and nodded his compliance as his employer slipped him two gold sovereigns. For that amount, he would betray Christ himself. He only hoped that the lady in question was not elderly or run to fat.

  ~Three~

  Esme Kirkwood silently congratulated herself on her efforts as she rode alongside her father to the Bingley’s ball. Fitzwilliam Darcy was to make an offer of marriage. Of course, she would accept, but the Bingley’s was hardly the place to make an announcement of that magnitude. It had only been the convenience of the acquaintance that made her tolerate them at all. Despite their money and elegant ways, the Bingleys were only one generation away from being working class. Everyone knew that their grandfather had made his fortune in trade, despite Caroline Bingley’s efforts to disguise it. The very idea that Miss Bingley thought herself to be competition for the same circle of eligible men was laughable. It was the presence of Charles that made social events aimable. He was completely charming and without guile, but most importantly, held the friendship of men in higher places. It was through Caroline’s attempts at social climbing that Esme had managed an introduction to the man that would become her husband. Husband… she said the word repeatedly in her head, but the echo of the title meant little aside from security. Fitzwilliam Darcy was handsome, and extremely wealthy, but other than those truths, she cared not a whit more. Not that many society marriages were love matches, on the contrary, they were business arrangements. Her family needed money, and she was the way to acquire it. This was a fact of which Esme had been aware since her coming out nearly five years ago, but until recently, no one had met the standard needed to save the Kirkwood family. Although in possession of a dowry of some fifty thousand pounds, Esme was unable to touch anything past the interest gained, nor could any future husband. It had been carefully entailed by her mother’s family when Ardella Wilkerson had insisted upon marrying Lord Reginald Kirkwood. Unable to prevent their daughter from marrying a peer, Esme’s grandparents had ensured she would not go without, should circumstances become desperate. And they had been right. Despite his title, Reginald Kirkwood was the worst sort of person. He squandered his inheritance on mistresses and expensive living, taking what he wanted with no regard for others. It was a trait passed on to his only child. When Esme’s mother died, she was but a girl of seven. Some said Lady Kirkwood simply withered away from a broken heart, others say her husband slowly killed her with neglect. In either fashion, it left a very impressionable girl open to the hedonistic teachings of a master. Now, it seemed that all their planning was finally coming to fruition. With the marriage of Esme to Fitzwilliam Darcy, the funds would be ever present for her to do as she wished. The thought that Darcy would object to her taking lovers did not occur to Esme. Wasn’t that the norm for aristocratic families? Besides, she did not care if he did, a man of Darcy’s character would never subject himself to the scandal of divorce. He would suffer in silence rather than expose his poor judgement. She need only keep the ruse of affection a bit longer. Settled in this plan of action, Esme smiled to father as she alighted from the carriage and walked sedately to the Bingley’s front door. Tonight, was simply another move in her game.

  *****

  Caroline Bingley stood next to her brother as they received their guests. Nearly all had arrived and milled about the ballroom enjoying the refreshments. An hour of casual conversation would be followed by dancing and a buffet supper, then more dancing. Scanning the throng of people for any sign of Darcy, she did not immediately see him. Instead, her eye caught the muscular form of the footman she had selected for her machinations. Bowing in her direction, she watched him glance up at the grandfather clock that ticked away the hours. Esme had yet to arrive, but there was time. Caroline downed a glass of champagne, forcing herself to relax as the butler announced the last arrival.

  “Lord Reginald and Lady Esmerelda Kirkwood,”

  All eyes turned on the ranking guests. Fashion
ably late, as to attract the most attention, the father and daughter made a handsome pair. Not yet fifty, Lord Kirkwood wore the standard black coat and tails, but it only set off his fair hair and trim form. As a widower, many a dowager had cast their eye on the prospect of becoming the next Lady Kirkwood, but he had always given the same reply.

  “There can be no one who can replace my Ardella.”

  This phrase gave the appearance of one who only would only love once, but the reality was quite the opposite. Reginald Kirkwood only loved himself, even his daughter was an asset of which to be disposed. Now, as he escorted Esme inside, he too looked for the man that would end his financial worries, but Darcy was no where to be found.

  ~Four~

  Fitzwilliam Darcy paced the empty second story solarium as he rehearsed what he would say to Esme. Confidence had always been his friend if given the opportunity to practice his actions before taking them. Below, he could hear the muffled sounds of music as the dancing had begun. Soon, it would be six o’clock, the time designated for him to meet with his beloved. His emotions were in turmoil. What if she said no? Did she love him in return? Did he truly love her? The questions remained unanswered as he continued to wear a pathway in the carpet. Why was he having these thoughts now? Surely the time for misgivings was long past? Pausing, he gazed out the window to the gardens below. Night had fallen, but he could see movement inside the gazebo. She must be there already, just as arranged, the only person missing was himself, so why did his feet hesitate? Shaking off what he attributed to the nerves justified of one in his position, Darcy straightened his neckcloth for the millionth time and took the servant’s stairs. He would exit through the kitchens, unnoticed by the rest of the guests and surprise Esme.