Free Mr. Darcy's Dream by Elizabeth Aston Page A

“Come over here,” Louisa said. “Since you always know more about what is going on than anyone else, you may look out of the window, and tell me who that man is out there talking to Mr. Grayling. He appears to be a gentleman, but I cannot suppose he is any such thing. Do you know who he is?”
    Betsy only needed the briefest of glances out of the windowto be able to inform her mistress that that was Mr. Drummond, Mr. Darcy’s new man. “He is said to be a gentleman, but I cannot see why it is a gentleman’s business to be out and about in the grounds, and dealing with glassmakers and iron men and carpenters and all that kind of thing.”
    â€œI rather agree with you,” said Louisa. “I always imagined such a person would spend his time in an office, either in London or in one of my uncle’s houses.” She knew better than to ask Betsy what the servants thought of Mr. Drummond, and although she was curious to know, she didn’t care to indulge in too much servants’ gossip. She would doubtless find other means of discovering more about Mr. Drummond. He was a personable enough man, although not with the kind of looks she generally admired, yet he had a fine upstanding figure and a direct open look to his face that she liked.
    â€œMiss Phoebe is writing letters in the library,” said Betsy, by way of introducing the subject that she was longing to talk about.
    â€œI know,” said Louisa.
    â€œIt’s a shame she’s not looking as well as she ought. Downright pale, and not in the best of spirits, although Miniver tells me your arrival has cheered her up. Well, it’s a shame about the engagement, but I dare say she’ll get over her disappointment.”
    All curiosity about Mr. Drummond vanished from Louisa’s mind as, startled, she withdrew her gaze from the gardens outside and stared at Betsy. “What are you talking about? Miss Phoebe is not engaged, nor has she ever been.”
    â€œNot engaged, exactly.”
    â€œWhy, even if it were not announced in the paper, news of any engagement would have spread at once to the family. I can’t think where you came up with such an idea.”
    â€œIt was what Miniver told me,” said Betsy defiantly. “Who should know better than she does what the young lady is up to? And the reason that none of the family heard about it, except her mother and father, was because Sir Giles said no to the man. Miss Phoebe went and picked a wrong ’un, that’s clear, she should have known better.”
    This was going too far. Betsy might have been Louisa’s nurse since she was a girl, but it was not her place to pass any kind of judgement on Miss Phoebe. “That is enough, Betsy.”
    Betsy knew that tone of old. She bobbed a curtsy and left the room, as Louisa, her thoughts in a turmoil of questions and conjectures, turned back to look out of the window. Mr. Grayling and Mr. Drummond had gone, leaving the gardener’s boy disconsolately shoveling manure around the base of a plant. Could there be any truth in Betsy’s report? She had suspected that an unhappy affair of the heart might lie behind Phoebe’s present state of mind; poor Phoebe, if she had indeed fallen in love with an unsuitable man.
    She would not let her imagination dwell on it. If Phoebe wanted to confide in her, then she would do so. Until then, intrigued as she was, Louisa would make no attempt to question Phoebe about Betsy’s story, or to make any enquiries as to whether any of the events related by Betsy had ever taken place.
    Chapter Eight
    Martindale House lay only three miles from Pemberley as the crow flies, but by road it was a journey of nearer five miles. It was a house of a very different style from Palladian Pemberley, with its classical façade. Martindale House was an old manor house that had grown and expanded over the centuries, a stone building, situated at the end of a valley, with