The Marriage Bargain Excerpt 2

Hello again!

Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments to my last post. If you missed it, I posted the cover and first chapter from my upcoming release, The Marriage Bargain. I’m back with a bit more from the opening chapters today. I have part of Chapter 2 and part of Chapter 3. We get to meet Elizabeth! The book officially releases next Monday, 18 April (paperback, e-book, and Kindle Unlimited via Amazon; the audiobook will be out at a later date). I’ll be back with a final excerpt on Tuesday.

Chapter 2

Despite Caroline Bingley’s entreaties, Darcy left Northlands as planned two days later. He wanted to succumb to the temptation to remain, but he knew it would be wrong. When he could forget his troubles, the visit with Bingley and Caroline had been pleasurable. But he could not entirely banish his dark thoughts. There were times when her company was almost too much, when her coquettishness only called attention to the limitations of his circumstances. Bingley had talked to Caroline again about Darcy’s position and his inability to marry her but to no effect. She continued to show how delighted she was to see him, and each of her smiles and blushes was another stab to his heart, another reminder of everything he ought to be but was not.

With no promises about when he would see them again, Darcy climbed into Bingley’s carriage for the ride to the nearest market town. There, he would catch the coach to Cheshire and his godfather’s estate, White Woods.

With Lord Halsley, Darcy could be even less guarded than he was with Bingley. It was a relief to be with someone who served as a guide and trusted advisor. In many ways, the earl was more a father to him than George Darcy had been. White Woods was a place where Darcy could truly be at ease, and part of him wished he could hide there and pretend the rest of the world—from Pemberley to Caroline Bingley and his Fitzwilliam relations—did not exist. Lord Halsley did not treat him as a guest so much as a member of his family, and he encouraged Darcy to take advantage of the summer weather and freedom of having no work to which he must attend immediately.

Thus, Darcy spent his days at White Woods riding, fishing, and rambling through the park, sometimes alone and sometimes with his godfather. In the evenings, the two men would sit in the library, a stately room with wood panelling, neat rows of leather-bound volumes, and yellow brocade sofas.

Darcy did not speak about Pemberley until the final night of his stay. “It was in worse shape than I expected,” he admitted, abruptly changing the subject from his success at catching fish that afternoon. “The steward, if one can call him that, is incompetent and could provide no explanation for why several important farms are without tenants or why the estate is bringing in so little. I have no confidence whatsoever that he provided me with a full accounting of the people to whom my father—now I—owe money.”

Lord Halsley made a sympathetic noise. “George had difficulty retaining good people. You did not see much of him these last years, but I assure you, he understood how acute the situation was. He simply did not know how to get out of it.”

“And refused assistance. He knew I would have—” Darcy shook his head. If he continued along that vein, his resentment would return in full measure, and he would end up suffering from indigestion.

“His pride would not allow help. I offered it too, until it became clear our friendship would end if I persisted. As it was, George never truly forgave me for helping you find a way to earn your living.”

Twirling his cup around in his fingers, Darcy said, “I could not believe the state of the house. The roof is in desperate need of repair, if not replacement, and because it was neglected—along with so much else—many of the rooms have been damaged by leaks. Not that it matters. Many of them are too empty of furniture to use. All the good pieces were sold, as was the art and silver. If it were not for Mrs Reynolds’s efforts, I doubt the house would still be standing.”

“Your father was placed in a difficult position when he inherited.”

Darcy did not know whether to scoff, roll his eyes, or agree.

“I am not excusing George,” Lord Halsley continued. “He had no head for business or managing an estate, to say nothing of the way he indulged your mother. Moreover, the estate was already deeply encumbered when your grandfather died.”

“Thanks to my great-grandfather,” Darcy muttered. He sipped his tea, hoping its sweetness would counter the bitterness of his thoughts.

“And your grandfather, who chose to remember the estate in better days rather than do what was necessary to address his financial difficulties. I heard he was taken in several times by schemes promising large profit but that a wiser man would have known to question. It meant the estate was in even worse condition than it otherwise would have been when your father inherited. Between bad harvests—which none of us can control—and investments that did not bring in what they should have… Well, you are left in a terrible situation. It is a shame your father or grandfather did not have half your sense.”

Darcy slumped in his chair. “I do not know what to do, or where to begin.”

Lord Halsley examined him for a long while, his clear grey eyes steady beneath thinning light brown hair. Darcy was patient, knowing he would be rewarded with reasoned advice.

“The way I see it,” the earl said, “you have two choices. You can sell Pemberley for whatever you can get for it and settle as many debts as possible. Or you could marry a wealthy woman and use her fortune to restore the estate.”

Darcy slowly shook his head. “I cannot conceive of giving it up. It has been part of my family for generations. There is little I would not do to make it what it truly ought to be.”

“Would you be willing to make a marriage of convenience in order to save Pemberley?”

Darcy rested his forehead in a hand, his elbow on the arm of the chair, and closed his eyes. “I have no interest in marrying some woman I do not know simply because she is rich. What would happen to Georgiana?”

“If you married, you could offer her a home, perhaps even give her some semblance of the life she ought to have,” Lord Halsley suggested. “Think of it, Darcy. You do not have to know the answer tonight. What can you best live with—what will you regret the least in five or ten years, or when you are an old man reflecting on your life? I shall help you, whatever you decide.”

“Thank you, sir. You cannot know how much I appreciate it.”

Lord Halsley waved this away. “I wish I could do more for you. Now, what say we discuss something less serious. Going to bed with such weighty matters in the forefront of our thoughts will only lead to a poor night’s sleep. I would appreciate hearing more about your impressions of Canada.”

They spoke for another hour before calling an end to the day. Lord Halsley was accompanying Darcy to town and would allow Darcy to stay at his house in Grosvenor Square—ensuring he had a more comfortable journey than he otherwise would have—and they wished to leave early the next morning.

Chapter 3

Darcy was surprised when Lord Halsley told him Mr Gardiner maintained a residence near Cheapside; with his wealth, he could afford to live in a more fashionable neighbourhood. But if that is where the man is comfortable, being with his own kind and not amongst better society, so be it.

With no expectation of being pleased, Darcy made his way to Gracechurch Street on a warm September morning. He took a hackney carriage and felt more nauseous with each minute of the slow, jolting ride. Upon his arrival, he was oddly displeased to see the house was large and neat with bright late-summer flowers adorning the windows. Well-kept, which is more than anyone would say about Pemberley.

He was greeted by a houseman—Darcy could not consider him a butler in such a part of town—and shown into a drawing room. His eyes scanned the space, which, he supposed, was well-appointed. A man whom Darcy guessed was in his mid-forties and a young woman stood, ready to receive him. The man stepped towards him, hand extended.

“Mr Darcy. I am Edward Gardiner. Welcome, welcome. Lizzy, my dear.” He glimpsed over his shoulder and beckoned his niece as Darcy took his hand for a quick shake. “May I introduce my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

Miss Bennet curtseyed. “How do you do?”

Darcy bowed and murmured the usual words. As they sat, he examined the young lady. He had spent a great deal of time wondering about what manner of woman would allow herself to be bartered in marriage, for he knew no other way to think about it. He half expected to find her ugly or deformed in some way, but she was reasonably attractive, if the opposite of Caroline Bingley. Miss Bennet had dark hair and eyes, and although she was lean, she struck him as sturdy rather than delicate. She was tall, unlike petite Caroline. The spotted muslin gown she wore was fine, and she arched her eyebrows when their eyes met, almost as though she knew he had been examining her and wanted to know what he was thinking.

“So, you found us,” Mr Gardiner said. “Not too much trouble to come all this way, I hope. People are always wondering why I stay here, but this is where I have lived for twenty years or more, and I like it. Not this house, mind you. When did we purchase it, Lizzy?”

“Nine years ago.” She turned to Darcy and asked, “Would you care for some lemonade?” Her voice was clear and strong, and he detected a very faint lisp.

He accepted more out of politeness and to have something in his hands than from any desire for a beverage. He found himself taking frequent sips to escape into the sweet-sharp taste as Mr Gardiner asked him about his travels. It was evident Lord Halsley had told him a fair bit about Darcy, but that was reasonable, given the circumstances.

By rights, I should not know people such as these. If Pemberley was what it should be, if my father and his father and his again had not ruined it, I would not. Three generations collectively destroyed the estate and drained the family fortune, and I think I can solve it by marrying this man’s niece?

Mr Gardiner seemed to be a kind man, Darcy supposed, but all he could see in him were the signs of a man of lower birth—an inelegant turn of phrase, a certain lack of delicacy, a seeming roughness in his movements. I understand and appreciate my godfather’s efforts, but this will never work.

After about twenty minutes, Mr Gardiner stood. “Well, I shall leave you to yourselves to get to know each other without me blathering on. It is the two of you who must decide whether you like each other enough to make a match of it. You cannot do that with me hanging over you, can you?”

He turned to his niece. While Darcy could not see his expression, he did notice the reassuring smile Miss Bennet gave her uncle. Darcy stood to take his leave of his host.

Mr Gardiner said, “Mr Darcy, it was very good to meet you.”

“And you, sir.” His eyes watched the man walk out of the room. He wished he could follow him, but his feet were rooted to the floor.

No sooner was Mr Gardiner through the door than an elderly woman entered. Without so much as peeping at him, she shuffled to the corner, fell into an armchair, propped her feet onto a stool, pulled out a bundle of white fabric, and began to stitch.

“Please, Mr Darcy, will you sit?”

Miss Bennet’s question pulled him from his distraction, and he lowered himself back onto the sofa.

“Mrs Hill,” Miss Bennet said, her eyes gesturing to the old woman. “She was my nurse and remained with me when I came to live with my uncle. She should have been pensioned off years ago, but she refuses to leave me until I am married. Do not mind her; she is almost entirely deaf and will not hear a word we say.”

“I see.” Darcy could not decide whether she was cold or forthright—or whether there was any difference between the two.

If he was confused by these words, her next left him even more so.

That’s it for this time. I’d love to know what you think!

The Marriage Bargain is available through Amazon.

Have a wonderful day!

Lucy