Miss Darcy Falls in Love

  “What have you been doing while I slept a whole day away?”

  “Do you really want to hear a dreary detailed report of my hours? I did not think so. Mostly I was preparing this.” He picked up a jar sitting on the table and opened it to reveal a pasty cream. “This will reduce the dark circles under your eyes and remove the chafed areas of your skin. You do look ghastly after all.”

  “You sure you are not a girl? I could arrange a nice post as a ladies’ maid for you to practice your feminine techniques.”

  “Thanks all the same, chuckles, but I will stick with you. I am satisfied to practice techniques on the maids, after which I glean tricks of the trade to keep your ugly face respectable enough to appear in public.”

  Hendricks was correct, again. Sebastian gave in to the inevitable, which meant a day of rest, a thorough washing, a haircut, several treatments to his face, alterations to some of his clothes, and so on. The delay in confronting Miss Darcy worried him and increased his anxiety, but by the time he announced himself to Monsieur Vigneux at the de Valday townhouse, he did feel much better physically. And since women are not the only creatures on the planet who believe appearance makes for a nicer impression, Sebastian was vastly more confident knowing he was exceptionally dapper after a day in the hands of his valet.

  Monsieur Vigneux pleasantly welcomed the frequent visitor of Miss Darcy’s without frowning, as he had on that first introduction, and seemed genuinely sad to inform him that Miss Darcy was not currently at home. Momentarily at a loss—not that it had not crossed his mind that she may be out—Sebastian stammered a bit, finally deciding he would leave the pouch and a note of friendly greeting.

  “Poor timing on my part,” he said and grimaced. “If I may request, will you see she gets these as soon as she returns? And inform her I called?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Monsieur Butler! How delightful!”

  He pivoted toward the voice, already registering the owner and thus not surprised to see the de Valday twins bouncing toward him down the staircase. “Mademoiselle Zoë, Mademoiselle Yvette”—he bowed deeply—“what a lovely surprise. When Monsieur Vigneux informed me that Miss Darcy was away, I presumed you were with her. My happy mistake since I am now able to welcome you to Paris as I was not able to do when you arrived.”

  Yvette and Zoë curtsied before him, two pairs of matching bold eyes raking over his figure before meeting his amused gaze. It was Zoë who spoke, her voice gay. “Indeed, we were heartbroken, Monsieur Butler. Of all in Paris, it was you we most desired to meet again, is that not so, Yvette?”

  “It is true! Devastated we were! Then our dear Georgiana relayed your dismay…”

  “And promise to flirt and fawn!”

  “Oui, that too,” Yvette agreed with her sister. “Thus our hearts were placated.”

  “And now you are here to fulfill your promise!”

  “I shall, if you feel it is still necessary. Nearly three weeks in Paris, so you two must be weary of the constant flirting, parades of gentlemen vying for your attention, and endless streams of flattering admiration.”

  They both laughed and shook their heads, each grasping onto an arm and steering him into the salon.

  “Is it possible to weary of such activity, monsieur? I think not!”

  “After rotting away in Lyon forever we shall require years of excitement to erase the scars! Lyon is frightfully dull. Did you not find it so, monsieur?”

  “Indeed. Frightful. I barely survived.”

  “Besides,” Yvette said, her face innocent but eyes peeking sidelong at Sebastian, “we had to rescue poor Georgiana from rattling about this old house all alone, day after day. Tragique!”

  Zoë took the clue. “Oh yes! We worried about her day and night, the poor lamb without us! Fortunately, you were here to amuse her, Monsieur Butler, and then the Lord Caxton as well.”

  Sebastian recoiled as if slapped, hard. “What?” he blurted, noting the shrillness of his voice but too distraught to control the tone. “How do you mean?”

  Zoë shrugged, sitting on the sofa next to Yvette. “He has been most attentive. But then Mademoiselle Darcy is never lacking for companions and entertainments to choose from.”

  “Indeed, she has worn herself to a frazzle from continual engagements and hours of dancing. You have missed much, Monsieur Butler. The Duchesse de Saint-Aignan hosted a magnificent gala last week with all of Parisian Society invited. It was stupendous!”

  “I danced until dawn,” Zoë dreamily recalled, “and so did lovely Georgiana, with dozens of men.”

  “But only the handsome Lord Caxton was honored with two dances. She has missed you, however, Monsieur.”

  Sebastian searched Yvette’s eyes for a clue as to her meaning, praying for anything, even the tiniest glimmer to restore his shattered hope. “Has she?”

  “Of course! Why, these past three days she has shockingly refused every invitation in lieu of staying home to play your compositions on the piano. Even shopping!”

  Yvette said the last with a tone and expression that left no doubt as to how incredible that decision was to her. Zoë nodded, her face wearing an identical expression.

  “So I know she will be pleased to welcome you home, Monsieur Butler. She should be returning any second from her horseback ride with Frédéric, the Limoges and Tonnerres, and Lord Caxton.”

  “Oui, any moment now,” Yvette agreed. “So sit, monsieur, and have some refreshments. We will divert with humorous anecdotes until the sweethearts return.”

  Sebastian paled further, sank into the chair, and sucked his breath through a narrowed airway. “Sweethearts? Surely you jest, Mademoiselle Yvette. They have barely met.”

  She shrugged, leaning to pour hot tea just brought in by the maid. “All it often takes is one look. Who can understand the ways of amour? Such a mystery.” She handed him the delicate china cup, Sebastian taking it automatically and staring sightlessly into the steaming liquid.

  The de Valday twins rambled on, Sebastian drinking tea that had no flavor while fighting to pay attention enough to offer feeble responses. They dropped the baron’s name from time to time—Sebastian wincing and trying to ignore a pounding headache—but primarily related gossip in a steady stream. The clock on the mantel ticked bolts of pain into his temples for the subsequent half hour until the sound of laughter and voices from the foyer superimposed.

  Sebastian jerked up from his perch and swung his eyes toward the door. Georgiana and the baron entered first with Frédéric de Valday a step behind. In an instant, Sebastian assessed the picture presented and the image increased his agony.

  Georgiana wore a fine riding outfit of pale gray that accented her perfect womanly curves, and a fashionable hat perched atop the piled mass of her golden hair. Her cheeks were rosy with a light sheen of dew across her brow, ruby lips moist and smiling, and sky-blue eyes gazing upward into the face of Lord Caxton, who walked at her side holding tightly to her hand where it rested in the bend of his arm. The baron was beaming, his smile gay and eyes fixed on Georgiana.

  “Monsieur Butler, welcome back to Paris.” Frédéric’s enthusiastic greeting rang out and alerted the enthralled pair. Lord Caxton’s smile held as he added his welcome, but Sebastian only saw Georgiana.

  “Mr. Butler! I am so pleased you are safe. I feared a mishap upon the road when no word of your return reached us.”

  She dropped the baron’s arm and hastened across the space, bobbing a quick curtsy before Sebastian. Happiness infused her voice and her radiant smile was trained upon his face, Sebastian sensing a slight lessening of the band constricting his chest and becoming unable to resist smiling in return.

  “I am quite well, Miss Darcy. No mishaps other than a washed out road that delayed us and then orders from my valet to rest and spruce up before appearing in public. I apologize for causing you any concern.”

  “All is forgiven, sir, now that you are here. We are very relieved.”

  “Yes, quite a relie
f,” Lord Caxton drawled. He had trailed behind Georgiana, assuming a possessive stance, with his body as close to her as possible but a half step nearer to Sebastian. The subtle blocking between the two was not subtle to Sebastian. “Good to have you back, Butler.”

  Sebastian nodded and shook the hand offered. “Thank you. It is good to be back, my lord.”

  “We have been entertaining your guest in your absence and filling him in on the excitement he has missed.”

  “Thank you, Yvette, but nothing that has occurred here could possibly be as thrilling or illuminating as the lecture on Machaut. I am aflutter with anticipation, Mr. Butler.”

  “I have scrupulous notes for your perusal as well as some new compositions I am confident you will enjoy.”

  “More of your compositions? I would not have thought your schedule allotted the luxury of time to write, but of course, I will delight in hearing them.”

  “These are not mine. You are correct that scant time was available and the pianoforte available at the inn was a sad instrument indeed. Plus, I rather doubt the patrons would have tolerated less than a lively dance tune.”

  Georgiana laughed. “No, I do not image they would.”

  “More musical topics to discuss? I would think the subject exhausted by now.” Caxton’s countenance was friendly but the muscles were sight and eyes hard.

  “There is no way to exhaust a topic fascinating and evolving. What I brought are pieces written by various composers but are for a six octave pianoforte such as yours at Pemberley, Miss Darcy. You will learn techniques that may inspire your compositions.” He smiled with genuine warmth toward Georgiana, who blushed but darted an uneasy glance toward Lord Caxton.

  “Compositions?”

  Sebastian’s brows lifted in surprise at the baron’s inflection. “Indeed. Miss Darcy is an astute, talented composer, along with possessing an exquisite voice and mastery on the pianoforte.”

  “I am aware of her beautiful soprano and have heard her play a few times, but I did not know she dabbled in composing. How extraordinary.”

  “She is extraordinary,” Sebastian stressed, not hiding his irritation at Caxton’s tone of displeasure. “She is extremely talented, in fact, and her writing capabilities are well beyond ‘dabbling,’ I daresay.”

  “Well, just what the world needs, a female Beethoven. Next we shall have women running businesses and in Parliament.”

  “There are many women in the artistic world, my lord,” Yvette said, for once her voice serious. “Novelists, poets, ballerinas, singers. Women have been queens. Why not a famous composer?”

  “I have no desire to be famous, thank you very much,” Georgiana said with a breathy laugh. “Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Butler. I am of the opinion you are exaggerating flagrantly; nevertheless, I do appreciate the gesture.”

  “I am not exaggerating! Would I have trusted my psalms with anyone else? I am aflutter with anticipation to hear how you have improved what I know are dismal renditions desperately in need of a fresh perspective.” He turned to Lord Caxton. “Miss Darcy has an inspired vision that is to be greatly admired.”

  “I see I have been properly chastised,” Caxton said with an incline of his head, turning toward Georgiana with tender regard. “Perhaps you can share some of your compositions with me, Miss Darcy? I am sure they are as amazing as you.”

  “I would be delighted.” She looked at the baron with mild surprise, her mien gradually infusing with pleasure.

  “Now I fear I must say adieu. We have our final practice tonight. May I call upon you tomorrow, Miss Darcy? I have the morning free before I must prepare for the performance. There is an exhibit of Spanish paintings at the Ferrand Museum and I would be honored to have you, Monsieur de Valday, and the Mademoiselles de Valday accompany me?”

  The twins looked less than wildly enthusiastic, museums more in the “frightfully dull” category of entertainments. Georgiana agreed to the outing, Sebastian barely managing to hide his disappointment, since he had planned to invite her to tour the show with him.

  Lord Caxton said his farewells and began walking toward the foyer with Georgiana alongside when he halted suddenly and turned to Sebastian. “By the way Butler, a group of gents are meeting at La Palu’s Club tonight for cards, if you are interested. I know how good you are at poker, so it would add to the challenge. Some of the finest wine in the country to boot. How can you pass that up? Allison and Lignac will be there.”

  Sebastian smiled, intrigued despite his glum mood. “It does sound like fun. Count me in.”

  “Excellent! I’ll drive you there, as your house is on the way. Eight o’clock sharp!”

  Georgiana was not gone for long, but the interval before she crossed the threshold felt an eternity. What words of love or affection were being said? The thought soured his stomach.

  Despite his depression, the following hours were surprisingly pleasant. Georgiana was gay and the de Valdays far too blithesome for gloominess to reign in the room. Conversation was neutral and their infectious effervescence combined with Georgiana’s warmth lightened his heart. Thoughts of intruding barons faded in the happiness of friendly companionship, until, that is, the de Valdays excused themselves to prepare for a family dinner engagement.

  “You are not invited to their family dinner?”

  “No. Well, in truth I was invited but I declined. Lord and Lady Matlock are engaged elsewhere tonight, a whist tournament at the Comte d’Apchier’s. A night alone sounded far more appealing. Early to bed for once and perhaps I will actually rise before noon!”

  “Yes, it can be exhausting. I slept for nearly eighteen hours night before last, another reason why the delay in my visit. I am sorry for causing you anxiety, Miss Darcy.”

  “I knew if anything truly horrid had occurred Lady Warrow would alert us, but it is a relief to know you are well.” She paused, averting her eyes from his and reddening. “You were missed, Mr. Butler,” she murmured.

  Emotion choked his throat, words lodging in a jumble and leaving him unsure of what to say. The vacillating sway of hope and despondency in the past hour had left him weak. Whatever vague plans of how to declare his feelings that had formulated in the recesses of his mind were shattered by the appearance of Lord Caxton. Miss Darcy’s indecipherable expressions and comments gave him no clue as to how, or if, he should proceed.

  “Are these your notes?” She jumped up from her chair and retrieved the bulging pouch long ago forgotten on a table by the door. He trailed her movements with his eyes, absorbed the delicate movements of her hands as she pulled out the top papers and began to scan the sentences, was mesmerized by her beauty and the elegant balance of every feature as she read the first paragraphs aloud. Then she looked at him with a mischievous glint in her crystalline eyes. “These are scrupulously written, Mr. Butler. I know your penmanship to be excellent but this exceeds my expectations for hastily scribbling during a lecture. My, your tutors must have sung praises to heaven for such a precise student.”

  Her tease broke the spell. Sebastian chuckled. “If only that were the case. Note taking has never been my strong suit. These were recopied, with my own embellishments added from what I gleaned during the talk.”

  “How very thoughtful of you! A simple thank you is insufficient. I will enjoy reading all of them, I assure you. And now that I have unencumbered hours stretching ahead of me, it is an accomplishable feat.”

  “Hours of well-deserved solitude that I am disrupting.” He rose to his feet and bowed her direction. “I shall depart and leave you to your leisure, Miss Darcy.”

  “No, please stay, Mr. Butler!” She stepped toward him, her wide eyes pleading. “I have been anxious to discuss your psalms, or rather, to play a few of my favorites with you.” She pivoted and walked to the piano, Sebastian trailing behind. “In truth it is difficult to pick a favorite, or two or three for that matter, since they are all so lovely.”

  “You are far too magnanimous,” he said and laughed, inclining his head
but his gaze not leaving the shimmering blue of her eyes.

  “Well,” she stammered, a flush spreading across her cheeks, “I did accept your challenge on a couple of them to tinker with some modification. Always jotted on separate sheets, of course!” She hastened to add when he began rifling through the stack.

  “Some modifications? I see three pages of altered refrains, chords, and sequences with an added rondo on Psalm thirty-five alone.” He held the sheet up, his brow arched and smile crooked. Georgiana’s blush deepened, but she met his gaze with a lift of her brows.

  “That one was especially pathetic and juvenile. I deserve a medal for suffering through playing it as is.”

  “Heartless! But I shall not argue. Very well then, do you have one you wish to start with? One you have improved upon, as I have no doubt you are capable of, or one not so pathetically written in the first place?”

  “This one here is particularly wonderful with not one note requiring improvement. Psalm sixty-three. I played it until nearly memorized.” She withdrew five pages from the scattered papers, handed them to Sebastian, and brushed past him to sit onto the bench.

  Sebastian froze. In that second of her body passing his, one muslin-covered shoulder contacting his arm and the swish of her skirt gliding over his leg was enough to unbalance him. He inhaled and shook his head before bravely leaning over to place the music sheets on the piano rest in proper order. He prayed she was unaware of how his hands trembled, only to moments later lose his grip on one sheet when he was assaulted by the fragrance of rose water. He recaptured the slipping paper and quickly set it in place, reading the title as he did.

  “Psalm sixty-three,” he whispered. Georgiana turned her head when he spoke, her face so close he could feel her warm breath and a loose strand of soft hair feathering over his cheek. “I wrote the music during this past month, after arriving in Paris. The scripture struck me in a unique way and I was—”