Mr Darcy Requests the Pleasure Read online

  Mr Darcy

  Requests the Pleasure

  A DARCY COLLECTION

  ELIZABETH ASTON

  Belsyre Books

  Table of Contents

  Mr Darcy Requests the Pleasure

  MR DARCY’S CHRISTMAS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  MR DARCY’S HOUSE PARTY

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  MR DARCY’S MASQUERADE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  MR DARCY’S DRAMA

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Copyright

  Additional Titles

  A host of Jane Austen characters from Pride and Prejudice return in four sparkling and witty romantic comedies

  Mr Darcy’s Christmas

  Curl up with a box of chocolates and travel back to a snowy Regency Christmas to share the festive season with the Darcy family. Dream of mince-pies and wassail, Yule logs, dancing—and stolen kisses under the mistletoe as Mr Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, finds love at last.

  Mr Darcy’s House Party

  To Mr Darcy’s annoyance, Lady Catherine and Mr Collins arrive uninvited at Pemberley, set to force Mr Darcy’s cousin into marriage to a man she doesn’t love. Can Lady Sarah Fitzwilliam meet her match, help an old friend to his own happiness–and rid Pemberley of its unwanted guests?

  Mr Darcy’s Masquerade

  Mr and Mrs Darcy are in London for the Season, and Mr Darcy’s jilted niece, Serafina, is staying with them. Will she hold her head high and dance her way through the maze of misunderstanding and mischief that lies in wait for her, and accept the love of a man she thought she hated?

  Mr Darcy’s Drama

  It’s winter at Pemberley, and time for Mr and Mrs Darcy and their guests to put on a play. Theodosia Beckford, Mr and Mrs Darcy’s new governess, delights in the Gothic. But even as she pens a drama of high romance and imagines every creaking door portends a spectre, realism rules when it comes to love.

  “Great characters, great comic moments, great romance”

  MR DARCY’S CHRISTMAS

  Chapter One

  Georgiana Darcy, warmly wrapped in a pelisse and wearing a dashing hat, said her goodbyes and climbed into the carriage. Mr Darcy exchanged a few words with the coachman before joining her, the groom stood away from the horses’ heads and they were off.

  As the carriage swayed on its way down the long drive, Georgiana looked out at the chilly morning. She wished the journey were over and they were already at Pemberley. And then she remembered that this would be the last time she would spend Christmas as Miss Darcy and probably the last time she would be at Pemberley for the festive season. This time next year she would be Mrs Moresby, passing the midwinter weeks with her husband’s family at Moresby Hall in Sussex.

  Her brother leaned forward to look out at the pale sunshine now threatened by dark clouds gathering in the north east. “It looks as though we may have snow,” he observed. He sat back and drew out some papers from the leather case on his knees.

  Georgiana knew her brother well enough to feel sure he would be absorbed in these papers for as long as the light held, and then afterwards, as dusk approached, by the light of the carriage lamp. She didn’t hold it against him that he was such a silent and withdrawn companion, for she knew how important was the government business that engaged her brother, serving his country in time of war.

  Georgiana had shared Elizabeth Darcy’s fears that Mr Darcy might not be able to leave London, but tomorrow was Christmas Eve and, even in time of war, normal life must sometimes prevail. Georgiana was sure her brother was looking forward to being back at Pemberley to celebrate the festivities of the season with his wife and young daughters.

  They had set off from London from the Darcys’ town house the day before and had stayed overnight with friends in Northamptonshire. Now they were on the final leg of the journey, with many tedious hours to get through before they were at home.

  Georgiana had a book, but it lay unopened on her lap. She snuggled into the corner, drawing herself under a fur rug, watching the bleak and lonely landscape going past, wrapped in her own thoughts. She was thinking about Francis Moresby, the man she was going to marry. The announcement had not yet appeared in the London Gazette; it was only a few days ago that Mr Moresby had called on her brother the previous week to ask formally for her hand in marriage.

  Mr Darcy had given his consent, although Georgiana was still unsure how pleased Mr Darcy was at the betrothal. She winced at the recollection of the talk he had with her after Mr Moresby had left the house. Her brother was so serious, so stern in wanting her assurances that she did indeed want to marry Mr Moresby, that she was truly following the instincts of her heart as well as head.

  “Marriage can be a lottery, as many people have said, and I would hate for you, my dearest Georgiana, to make a mistake in choosing your life’s companion. Mr Moresby is a good man, no doubt: everything fine about him, a man of rank, highly regarded, heir to a noble title, rich and, so the ladies tell me, as handsome as he is gallant. I also know him to be a man of strict, if not rigid, morality. This may be why he is not the liveliest of men. . .”

  Here she had interrupted him. “As to that, do you want me to marry someone lively, as you put it? To choose some restless man, one never content with his company or situation?”

  “No, that is not what I mean, as you
perfectly well know. He is clearly a clever man with a well-informed mind, but I find him prosy in his conversation and perhaps lacking in humour.”

  “As you say, he is a man of strong moral principle, he speaks only after reflection. I like that in a man.”

  “So you are quite sure?”

  “Quite. He is a man with whom I feel safe.”

  He frowned at that, but she took his hand and strove to assure him that she felt all the affection for Mr Moresby as was proper for the man she had chosen to be her husband. “I do love him, you haven’t mentioned love.”

  “He did not mention it himself, when he spoke to me. That could be from reserve, I wouldn’t presume to criticise a man for that.” He paused and then went on, “I had at one time thought you and young Daunton might make a match of it.”

  “I like Captain Daunton well enough, but I could not think of him in that way. He is too volatile for a husband.”

  Too attractive, with his quizzing eyes; too dangerous, how could you trust such a man? She had liked him a great deal, had felt the power of his attraction and then, alarmed, had drawn back from his advances.

  Once repelled, he had quickly found himself another object for his attentions. It had been a passing fancy, no more, and she was relieved rather than regretful or jealous when she saw him dancing attendance on Miss Bridgewater. Nor were her congratulations on his subsequent engagement anything other than sincere and wholehearted.

  A very different kind of man from Mr Moresby, and she thanked God for it. She wanted a reliable husband, a man she could feel safe with, as she had told her brother. Charm was all very well for a dancing partner, but not for marriage.

  Chapter Two

  Earlier that year, Georgiana had gone to Kent to stay with her aunt, the formidable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, for a few weeks. The visit had been made rather from a sense of duty than from any expectation of pleasure; Georgiana wasn’t fond of her overbearing aunt and had never found it easy to get on with her pale and uninteresting cousin Anne. She had told Mr Darcy she didn’t want to accept the invitation and Elizabeth agreed with her, saying she should not go if she had no inclination for it.

  However, Mr Darcy was only recently reconciled with Lady Catherine, who had so strongly disapproved of his marriage to Elizabeth Bennet, and he urged Georgiana to accept the invitation. “Our aunt is not the easiest of people to get on with, but she is our mother’s sister and we owe her our duty, however disagreeable she has been.”

  It was all as dull and formal as she had expected at Rosings. Lady Catherine might have accepted the fact of her nephew’s marriage, after five bitter years of hostility towards Mr Darcy’s bride, but she was still inclined to speak ill of the former Elizabeth Bennet and that always made Georgiana, who dearly loved her new sister, feel ill at ease.

  Lady Catherine had decided to have a dance at Rosings, an unusual occurrence. While anxious to keep up the state of a great house, her ladyship was generally disinclined to put herself to the effort of arranging this kind of party. But she had a new companion, a poor relation of her late husband’s, and since the unfortunate Miss Thackeray was prepared to carry out all the drudgery, all the writing of the invitations and making of arrangements, there was to be a dance.

  So Georgiana put on the second best of her ball gowns and sat quietly at her dressing table, while her maid dressed her hair, arranged a sparkling diamond necklace around her throat and handed her a fan. Her maid knew all about the people who were coming, and she told Miss Darcy that there was another relative, or rather a connection, who would be there. “It’s that Miss Bingley, sister to Mr Bingley, who married Miss Bennet. She is staying in the neighbourhood with friends, and comes with a large party. So there will be someone you know.”

  Georgiana didn’t feel any elation at this news. Two London seasons had not made it any easier for her to feel comfortable among strangers. She always felt more at ease in smaller gatherings, among her own particular circle, and she disliked the formality that prevailed at Rosings. And although Caroline Bingley professed to be a great friend of hers, and she had known her for many years as the sister of her brother’s good friend, Charles Bingley, she neither liked nor trusted her.

  Lady Catherine had arranged a dinner before the ball and they sat down some thirty persons in the big, gloomy dining room. Caroline Bingley was among the guests invited to dinner, and Georgiana, seated next to pompous, dull Mr Collins, the clergyman who was vicar at the nearby church in Hunsford, was able to look around the table and take stock of the company while he droned on in his prosy way.

  Caroline was in her best looks, finely dressed in lace and satin and she had almost a triumphant air to her this evening. Georgiana wondered why, but thought no more of it.

  The dinner was lengthy and Georgiana was relieved when it was over and she could remove herself from the gleaming table, the vast array of silver and crystal and the scent of the flowers that made her sneeze and, with the other ladies, withdraw for a while before going into the ballroom.

  There were few people there with whom she was at all acquainted. Mrs Collins took pity on her, and walked with her to the other side of the ballroom, ready to introduce her to two or three members of the local families. One of them, a youngish man with a pleasant air, bowed and asked for her hand for the first dances, and Georgiana, who would rather be dancing than talking, smiled, curtsied, accepted and walked with him into the set.

  Word had got around as to who she was, and her dark beauty, her name and her fortune attracted a good deal of attention among the single young men and ambitious mamas. She smiled and looked happy and longed for the evening to be over.

  For a moment she was alone, for her partner from the last dance had gone to fetch her a glass of wine, and she stood a little in the shadows, watching the others come off the floor and wait for the musicians to strike up for the next dance. There was Caroline Bingley, her colour high, her fan fluttering as she was escorted to the side by a man of middling height with a good figure, handsome features and an agreeable expression.

  As though aware that Georgiana was looking at him, he turned in her direction. He murmured something to Caroline, whose smile vanished from her face. She tossed her head and snapped shut her fan. Then, laying her hand possessively on his arm, came across the ballroom to Georgiana.

  Mr Moresby had noticed Georgiana as soon as he had arrived, taken by her quiet beauty and the remarks among others in his party as to who she was. For her part, Georgiana was equally taken with him. She liked his courtesy and quiet voice as the introductions were made by a reluctant Caroline.

  “May I have the honour of the next dances, Miss Darcy?” he said, ignoring Caroline, who stood pale and furious as he led Georgiana into the set that was just forming.

  Lady Catherine made her way majestically to Caroline’s side, her eyes fixed on Georgiana. “Who is the gentleman leading my niece out?”

  “That is Mr Moresby, ma’am.”

  “Moresby? Indeed? Is he a relation of Lord Moresby?”

  “His son, his eldest son.” Caroline’s voice was bitter.

  “He seems to like Georgiana. You will present him to me when this dance is finished.”

  That was how it had begun. Mr Moresby had followed her to London, they had met again at parties and dances, the courtship had flourished, much to the fury of Caroline Bingley, and now the polite world awaited the formal announcement of a betrothal.

  Chapter Three

  Pemberley awaited the return of its master. It was a chill, crisp afternoon, the shadows lengthening across the front of the great house, and a mist was beginning to rise over the river and lake.

  The sound of carriage wheels outside brought servants and Elizabeth Darcy to the window. She felt a momentary disappointment on recognising her sister's carriage, but was pleased the Bingleys were here. She hurried downstairs to greet her sister and her husband and their two little girls.

  Jane Bingley was delighted to be at Pemberley again, delighted
to see her sister, exclaiming at the news of Georgiana's forthcoming betrothal and, for her, unusually talkative. Mr Bingley greeted Elizabeth with warm affection and the children lost their sudden shyness and capered around their aunt’s skirts as they went into the house.

  Not long afterwards, another carriage was to be seen rolling up towards the house, but a glance from the window told Elizabeth this was not Mr Darcy’s carriage either. The smart equipage belonged to her least wanted guest, Caroline Bingley. She must go down and greet her, and then, as she walked quickly along the landing, her keen ears caught the sound of a horse’s hooves. A solitary horseman, riding up to the house, how could that be? Surely Mr Moresby would not have ridden here, and who else were they expecting who would arrive on horseback?

  The butler was waiting for her in the hall as she reached the foot of the staircase. “A messenger, ma’am, from London, bringing an express letter.”

  Elizabeth’s heart sank. Messengers too often in these troubled times brought news from London that Mr Darcy had been held up on some important state business and would be delaying his return to Pemberley. Not now, surely he wouldn’t break the promise made a week earlier when she had departed from London, that nothing would prevent his being in Derbyshire for the Christmas season.

  She opened the letter and her eyes flew down it. It was indeed from Mr Darcy, but was not to announce any hindrance to his plans; he merely wanted to let his dearest Elizabeth know to expect an additional guest this Christmas. His old friend Giles Hawkins was back from service in India and Mr Darcy had asked him to celebrate the season with them at Pemberley.

  Elizabeth had never met Giles Hawkins, but Mr Darcy had often spoken of him with affection and liking. Friends at school and then at university, their lives had afterwards taken separate paths. Giles Hawkins had taken a commission in the army, while Mr Darcy looked after his estates and served his country in London, but they had always kept in touch.