Susie Darcy's Tenacious Nature Read online

  Mr Porter twisted his mouth to one side as he watched her struggling with her conscience. Polite but never overly deferential, not even in his dealings with Susie’s papa, his slightly cynical edge and inability to take himself or life in general too seriously was the aspect of his character that appealed to Susie the most. A free spirit. Yes, she decided, that phrase perfectly described Tobias Porter. He might pay lip service to the dictates of society—she was perfectly sure that he would make an excellent steward and serve her family faithfully for many years—but there would always be a wild edge to him, rather like a taciturn horse that only behaved when it suited his purpose to do so, fooling its master into believing he was in control.

  Her family was inundated with sycophants—people currying favour in the hope of personal advancement. Mr Porter’s chequered past imbued him with a worldliness that seemed to negate the need for such flummery. Susie truly believed that he had turned over a new leaf, but couldn’t allow her personal feelings for the handsome roué to develop. If he could, with the help of his less salubrious connections, aid Mr Tyrell in his search for the forger she would at least have the satisfaction of seeing him prove his loyalty.

  It would have to be enough for her.

  ‘I shall make some enquiries locally,’ he said, looking preoccupied.

  ‘Be careful whom you communicate your findings to. If Papa knew I had told you anything at all…well—’

  He flashed another smile that made her feel she had somehow played into his hands. ‘In that case, I shall have to ensure that I tell only you.’

  ‘Oh, but I didn’t think…’ Think what, she wondered, aware that she had actually done very little coherent thinking during the course of their exchange. Her reactions to him had been purely instinctive.

  They reached the end of the walk. His destination lay ahead, whereas she was now late and must turn back. Mr Porter tipped an imaginary hat, his hair blowing across his face in the slight breeze as he smiled at her.

  ‘Enjoy your evening, Miss Darcy,’ he said, standing to watch her as she retraced her steps. When she reached the end of the walk and looked back over her shoulder, he was still standing there, still watching her intently.

  ᴥᴥᴥ

  James told Dawlish the particulars of his visit to Pemberley as the two men took a brisk walk through the grounds of Hillgate House that afternoon.

  ‘Sounds as though your father was right to point you in Darcy’s direction,’ Dawlish remarked. ‘Great men are not always so accommodating upon matters that don’t directly impinge upon their wellbeing. Wish I could be at the dinner to meet Sir Robert myself.’

  ‘I thought you might drive me there. It will give you the opportunity to mix with Sir Robert’s coachman and listen to the servants’ gossip.’

  ‘Happy to oblige, but I didn’t learn anything much at the Lambton tavern today,’ Dawlish admitted. ‘I did drop your name, so all the gentry will know you’re here come nightfall. Except to be inundated with visitors, especially those with daughters to marry off, since I made it clear that you wouldn’t be receiving.’

  James chuckled. ‘Which is the surest way to ensure that people call.’

  ‘Speaking of daughters, what did you make of Miss Darcy?’

  James sent his friend a surprised look. ‘Why do you ask?’

  Dawlish shrugged. ‘No particular reason. Mere curiosity on my part, I suppose. I heard her name mentioned more than once in the village with great pride and affection. The family as a whole, I gather, take their responsibilities very seriously.’

  ‘I can well believe it.’

  ‘But you have already dismissed the young woman as an irrelevance, I suppose. She was so taken aback by whatever it is that females find irresistible about you that she was barely capable of stringing an intelligible sentence together.’

  ‘Actually, no. Now that you mention it, she hardly spared me a glance. She seemed more intrigued by the prospect of a forger in the area than by my intoxicating charm.’

  ‘Good God!’ Dawlish clasped a hand over his heart. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve lost your dazzling appeal.’

  ‘Don’t be an ass!’

  ‘Go on then. What was she like?’

  ‘Well, she’s no raving beauty but she has…I don’t know…there was something about her I found engaging.’ James shrugged. ‘Presence, perspicacity, a natural liveliness. She’s not your usual simpering miss, nor is she aloof or condescending. Altogether a very unusual package.’

  ‘She didn’t lose her senses at the sight of you so you label her as being unusual.’

  James shook his head. ‘She’s very much the daughter of that great house, comfortable with her position but not top-lofty. Rather like her mother in that regard. The whole family, in fact, goes out of its way to make visitors feel at ease.’

  ‘A better proposition for you than the overindulged Miss Fleming, if you ask me.’

  ‘I didn’t. Besides, I don’t intend to marry Miss Fleming.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but she intends to marry you. And if you let her down, she will move heaven and hearth to make life uncomfortable for you and your father. All sweetness and light, is that one, unless she doesn’t get her way. If she doesn’t…well, watch your back.’

  ‘That’s a problem for another day. At least I don’t have to think about Beatrice whilst I’m in Derbyshire.’ He clapped Dawlish’s shoulder. ‘Come along, time’s getting on. We’d best go back to the house. You need to make me presentable enough to dine with the foremost family in the district.’

  ‘Blimey, you don’t ask much.’

  Despite Dawlish’s doubts, an hour later James presented himself in Darcy’s drawing room, impeccably attired in a dark blue coat, his neckcloth tied in a waterfall and secured with a Ceylon sapphire pin. The family was already there, with the exception Miss Darcy.

  ‘I cannot think what’s keeping Susie,’ Mrs Darcy remarked when James had greeted them all. ‘I thought she came down ahead of the rest of us.’

  No sooner has she spoken the words than Miss Darcy burst through the open French doors in a rustle of skirts, her cheeks flushed, full of apologies.

  ‘Sorry, Mama, but one of the kittens was stuck up a tree and I had to persuade it to come down again. I hope I’ve not kept you waiting.’ She turned towards James and dipped a brief curtsey. ‘Good evening, Mr Tyrell.’

  ‘Good evening, Miss Darcy,’ he replied. ‘I trust the kitten survived.’

  ‘The silly creature finally remembered that it had climbed up so must be able to climb down again. It wasn’t necessary for me to actually rescue it.’

  ‘Which she would have done, if needs be,’ Marc said with an affectionate laugh, ‘evening gown or no.’

  Miss Darcy entered into a spirited debate with her brothers upon the wisdom of females climbing trees on rescue missions. James watched them with amusement, admiring as he did so Miss Darcy’s trim figure displayed in a gown that was neither muslin nor silk. Since that exhausted his knowledge of feminine materials, he remained in ignorance as to its true nature but decided that it suited her very well.

  ‘We have already been hard at work, gathering evidence, or rather failing to do so, on your behalf, Mr Tyrell,’ Mrs Darcy said, recalling James’s wandering attention when they had all been served with sherry.

  ‘I am obliged to you, ma’am.’

  He listened as Mrs Darcy told him about their visit to her sister and then to Lady Gaunt in Denton that afternoon.

  ‘My daughter thought that Miss Gaunt might have some recollection of the man Bevan whom you referred to but, alas, we had no luck in that regard.’

  ‘I am grateful to you for thinking of it,’ James said, inclining his head in Miss Darcy’s direction.

  ‘Fanny Gaunt is only fifteen and does not dine with the family when they have guests,’ Miss Darcy explained. ‘It was difficult for me to be specific without her wanting to know why I was asking, but I did mention your presence here and asked her if her mother and fath
er ever entertained anyone connected with the artistic community.’ The spectre of a smile touched Miss Darcy’s lips. ‘I am sorry to say that Fanny seemed annoyingly vague on the point and didn’t even recognise your father’s name.’

  ‘It was a kind thought and I am obliged to you for your efforts.’

  ‘I tried to see if there was anything amiss in the Gaunt’s drawing room,’ Mrs Darcy said. ‘Any missing silver or signs that objects had been removed to be sold, but everything appeared much as it has always been.’

  ‘Yes, Mama,’ Miss Darcy said. ‘I reached the same conclusion. I’m very sorry, Mr Tyrell, but I really don’t think Sir Robert knows anything about this matter. It seems as though you have made an unnecessary journey.’

  ‘Not in the least. I have already seen much to admire in Derbyshire and do not regret coming.’

  ‘Even so, it would be better if we could resolve this problem,’ Darcy said. ‘It will do the county’s reputation no good if word of these events leaks out.’

  Of course, James thought, the respectability of the county as a whole would be Darcy’s main concern.

  ‘Lady Gaunt accepted my invitation with alacrity,’ Mrs Darcy said, ‘and looks forward to making your acquaintance, Mr Tyrell. If we receive a message tomorrow, saying they have remembered a long-standing prior engagement, we will know that Lord Robert would prefer to avoid your society.’

  ‘And point the finger of suspicion in his direction,’ Spence said briskly.

  ‘And even though I am convinced of Sir Robert’s innocence, we are not ready to give up quite yet,’ Miss Darcy added. ‘There are other avenues to explore.’

  It sounded as though Miss Darcy had instigated alternative lines of enquiry without first consulting him. Before he could seek clarification, dinner was announced. James offered his arm to Mrs Darcy and, after she had accepted it, was aware of her sons and daughter following behind, still arguing about the best trees to climb on the Pemberley estate. He got the impression that it was a subject upon which Miss Darcy was well qualified to offer an opinion and an occupation she had not long given up.

  The meal was perfection, the conversation lively and well-informed. Both boys had attended Eton and had experiences and acquaintances in common with James, ensuring they never ran out of things to talk about. Miss Darcy sat between her brothers. She continued to squabble amicably with them but made no effort to converse with James, nor did she plague him with questions about his famous father. It was a refreshing and unusual departure from the norm. James didn’t much like the person he had without conscious awareness become when he found himself wondering if her feelings were already engaged elsewhere, accounting for her disinterest in him.

  When the meal came to an end, he stood and watched Miss Darcy’s retreating form as she withdrew in her mother’s wake. There was more to the innocent-seeming young woman than met the eye. An innate sense of curiosity and, unless James missed his guess, a passionate nature just waiting to be unleashed. James was filled with a desire to know her better and put that theory to the test. To bring her out of herself and have her smile spontaneously at him as she so often did at her brothers.

  When the gentlemen finished with the port and returned to the drawing room, James made a point of seating himself beside Miss Darcy, who was engrossed in a book.

  ‘Am I disturbing you?’

  ‘Not in the least.’ She closed her book and put it aside.

  ‘What are you reading?’ Wordlessly, she showed him the spine of her book. ‘The Maid of Orleans.’ He permitted his surprise to show. ‘You approve of strong females?’

  ‘I think as a sex we are often underestimated.’ She flashed a mischievous smile that transformed her face. She would never be a classic beauty, but James found her infinitely more interesting because of her imperfections—a chin that was fractionally too long, a nose that was marginally out of line. The artist in him longed to capture her likeness. But reproducing her precise expression when she tilted her head to one side whilst considering what to say, the fashion in which her eyes lit up with amusement, indignation or annoyance when challenged by her brothers, and her obvious unawareness of her emerging femininity would most likely defeat even an artist of his father’s standing. ‘Take, for instance, my dispute with my brothers over dinner.’

  ‘About the advisability of climbing trees.’

  ‘Precisely. Oh, it’s a trivial matter, I’ll grant you that, but a perfect example of double standards. Marc and Spence didn’t object to my climbing trees with them when we were children and made no allowances for my supposedly weaker status.’

  James permitted his amusement to show. ‘I doubt whether they would have dared.’

  ‘Quite.’ She nodded emphatically. ‘But now that we are grown, my brothers seem to think it an unsuitable activity for me.’ She inverted her chin. ‘Left to them, that poor kitten would still be stuck.’

  ‘I would advise against rescuing kittens while wearing that gown.’

  ‘You see, you are as bad as they are.’ She turned her head away, unafraid to show her irritation with him. Interestingly, she still hadn’t made the slightest attempt to flirt with him. Ordinarily James did everything in his power to avoid females who had flirting in mind, yet perversely he decided to instigate that form of communication with this intriguing, highly unorthodox and challenging young woman. ‘And infuriatingly, you are in the right of it. I would not have thought twice about climbing to that kitten’s rescue, even if I was dressed for dinner, were I wearing a man’s attire.’

  ‘And yet, by not doing so, you gave the kitten the opportunity to work things out for himself.’

  A gurgle of laughter slipped past her lips. ‘I will let you into a little secret, Mr Tyrell. Our steward happened upon me, I explained the kitten’s difficulty and he…well, he gallantly climbed up and persuaded the kitten to come down under its own steam.’ She flapped a hand. ‘Oh, I dare say it would have done so eventually when it got hungry, but I am very glad I didn’t have to sit down to dinner and think about the poor little thing stuck up in the branches, alone and afraid.’

  ‘You have a soft heart, it seems. However, we have strayed from the subject of strong-willed females.’

  ‘Of which you clearly do not approve.’

  ‘You do me a disservice.’ He spread his hands helplessly. ‘I have never before met one, so I cannot offer an opinion.’

  Miss Darcy sent him an arch look. ‘Because all females are so taken by your father’s fame or your own person that they seek to impress by falling into the pattern of behaviour that society expects of them.’ She tilted her head in that delightful manner he had already identified as a particular habit of hers. ‘Oh, don’t feel responsible for that.’ James did not, but he was so enjoying her forthright manner that he didn’t put her straight. ‘My brothers suffer in a similar way and would doubtless sympathise with you. They are handsome and wealthy so every single female does her very best to appear fragile and incapable of sensible thought in their presence. I have never understood why, although I suppose they are taught that it is not considered genteel for a woman to appear well-informed or capable.’

  James chuckled. ‘Clearly you do not hold with that view.’

  She looked away from him, the playfulness evaporating from her expression. ‘Why would I be untrue to myself?’

  James sensed that he had touched a nerve and so changed the subject. ‘Are you an art lover, Miss Darcy? I ask because your mother mentioned that you attended the Summer Exhibition last year and noticed my humble offerings. Not many people do when they are exhibited beside the pater’s.’

  ‘Part and parcel of having a famous papa, I suppose.’

  ‘Quite so.’

  ‘I like art, but confess to knowing little about it. However, I know what I like.’

  ‘You paint yourself?’

  She smiled distantly. ‘If I did, you could hardly expect me to make the confession in your company.’

  Even so, her gaze drift
ed to a pretty watercolour depicting Pemberley’s lake displayed on a side table. He picked it up and studied it, aware that her cheeks had bloomed with colour as she waited for his opinion. She had a natural eye and the bold brushstrokes he would expect of someone who possessed the courage of her convictions. She painted what she saw in the unremarkable manner of a talented amateur.

  ‘It shows promise,’ he said after a prolonged pause.

  ‘There’s no need to be polite,’ she replied, snatching the picture from his grasp and returning it to the table.

  ‘I never offer false praise to aspiring artists,’ he replied calmly. ‘You and I both know how much effort goes into a work of art. It would not be kind to encourage unrealistic expectations.’

  She nodded. ‘Unlike you and your father, I do not possess any great talent and am aware of my artistic limitations. I merely paint because I enjoy it, and because young women in my position are supposed to paint, or embroider—’

  ‘As opposed to climbing trees?’

  Her lips curved. She had a very generous mouth, he noticed, with plump lips that parted to display even white teeth whenever she smiled. An expressive mouth that defined her character. ‘Precisely so.’

  And finally…finally, her gaze met his and held. James felt mildly euphoric at having secured her complete attention and aroused something inside of her—even though it was a dangerous game to play with such an innocent and self-contained miss. He felt a moment’s guilt for not having acquainted her with the rules of that game beforehand, but then how could he, since he had never played it before himself? Her eyes widened with awareness, her pupils darkened and her eyes glistened with the sensual disobedience his behaviour had stirred within her.

  Lord in heaven, this simply wouldn’t do!

  Mrs Darcy addressed a remark to him; a timely intervention which he grasped with gratitude. He returned his attention to the general conversation and as soon as he decently could, he took his leave. As he rode home in the gathering gloom an odd sense of disadvantage gripped him. Despite all his worldly experience, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Miss Darcy had come out the winner of their verbal sparring match. He forgot all the reasons why it was inadvisable to play such games with her and looked forward to a return confrontation.