Mr. Darcy's Dream Read Free

night with such startling clarity that the scenemight be taking place again there before her eyes. She had been at an informal party, given by the rich and amiable Mr. Portal. The season was not yet under way, but Phoebe had come early to town with her father, who had parliamentary business to attend to. Her mother was due to come up to London next week.
    It was just such a party as Phoebe liked best. And her pleasure in the evening was capped by the arrival of Arthur Stanhope. She had been standing beside Mr. Portal, and laughing at one of his witty remarks, when she saw Arthur Stanhope standing at the door. Their eyes met, hers brimming with merriment, and his amused and alight with pleasure in seeing her.
    They talked, as they had done ever since they first met, a conversation which, Phoebe felt, could go on for the rest of their lives and never grow boring. They went down to supper together, and then afterwards, her cousin Camilla persuaded her sister Alethea to play some dances for the company.
    Oh, that exquisite moment when Mr. Stanhope took Phoebe aside and led her into a little alcove, quite deserted, and there took her into his arms, and in a voice quite unlike his usual calm tones, told her he loved her. His kiss, gentle, then growing more passionate, had wrapped Phoebe in a cloud of velvet delight, and when they drew apart to look into one another’s eyes, she felt a joy such as she had never experienced.
    Chapter Two
    As this scene replayed over and over in Phoebe’s head, her feelings finally overwhelmed her, and she clenched her fists until the pain of her nails in her palms brought her to her senses.
    She must hurry, surely Miniver had been gone ten minutes. She opened the door of her room, looking up and down the corridor to make sure she was unobserved, and then flew down the stairs to let herself out of the front door before the butler or a footman came hurrying to see what she wanted and enquire where she was going. A minute later, she was turning into the street which led out of the square, and there, at the end of the little street, stood a hackney cab, a fat jarvie sitting on the driver’s box, and Miniver leaning out and gesturing to her to hurry.
    The cabman leaned back to ask where they wanted to go, and Phoebe, panic-stricken, remembered that she did not have Mr. Stanhope’s exact address. He lived in Melbury Street, that was all she knew. Well, she would tell the man to go to Melbury Street, and once there, someone, a servant or a deliveryman, would know which was Mr. Stanhope’s house.
    It wasn’t far, and as the hackney carriage rounded thecorner, the driver pulled up and asked which number she was wanting. Phoebe was about to ask Miniver to get out and make enquiries, when she saw a door open a few houses down. A tall, familiar figure came down the steps of number 19. Mr. Stanhope. Phoebe rose, and was ready to jump down when she saw the man turn round and speak to someone hidden from sight. She shrank back, all too aware of how improper it was for her to be making a call on a man. Who was he talking to? A servant? In a minute, the door would shut, and he would come down the street. An accidental meeting, that was much better, not the severest critic could find fault with that.
    A carriage was coming down the street from the other end, and to Phoebe’s dismay, it drew up outside number 19. It was an elegant equipage, a lady’s carriage, she would have said. And even as this thought entered her head, a woman came out of Mr. Stanhope’s house. She had an exquisite figure, and walked down the steps with a light gracefulness which Phoebe could not but envy. The woman was wearing a veil, but Phoebe didn’t need to see her face to recognise the notorious Mrs. Vereker.
    Mr. Stanhope took both Mrs. Vereker’s hands, and raised first one and then the other to his lips in a gesture of affection and finesse that caused Phoebe’s throat to constrict with