by P. O. Dixon
She swallowed hard. Finding her voice, she said, “Sir, there is really nothing the matter with me—that is to say, nothing a brisk walk will not cure.”
“I am happy to accompany you,” he immediately offered, “that is, should you wish for my company. I can think of nothing that I would rather do.”
She trembled a little inside hearing his speech. “Once again, I must say you are very kind, sir. But I am afraid I must decline.”
“Afraid? Afraid of what Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, his eyes so intense, she felt as though he had a window into her very soul.
Afraid—afraid of you, of us, of this! Elizabeth silently screamed. No reply was needed as mere moments later, Charles Bingley, Miss Darcy, and Jane emerged from the room, the ladies on either side of the gentleman.
Thank heavens, Elizabeth thought, even more grateful that she had not accepted Darcy’s offer of a glass of wine moments earlier.
Bingley said, “Darcy! Miss Elizabeth! How fortunate for the three of us that both of you are still here. Pray the two of you will join us for a walk about the park. It will be a most refreshing change of pace, do you not agree, Darcy?”
“Indeed, I believe a walk is precisely what is in order.”
Elizabeth, determined as ever to get as far away from the gentleman as soon as possible, said, “In such case as this, I say that the four of you should go. You would be charmingly grouped, just the four of you, and I fear the picturesque would be spoiled by admitting a fifth. Good day,” she stated, bowing. As soon as that she went on her way.
Rushing straight to her room, she did not look back to see what had become of her former companions. She suspected rather than knew that Fitzwilliam Darcy had taken his place by Jane’s side as he well ought to, but how could she really be certain without turning and looking? Perhaps, she simply did not wish to know. An all too familiar yearning deep inside her was all she could think about at the moment. Really all she wanted to think about.
Finding answers to her body’s questions in Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s arms.
She shook her head no, even as she had by now entered her apartment and locked the door behind her. I shall conquer this, she considered as she slowly and tentatively approached her bed. Standing there, she picked up a soft satin pillow and clutched it to her bosom. She affirmed once again, I shall conquer this. Stepping away from the bed and toward the window, her eyes were drawn to the party of three strolling along at leisure. Her sister, his sister, his friend. But not him.
Where is he? Elizabeth wondered, gazing over her shoulder in response to what she imagined was a light tap on her door. Her locked door. Did she dare respond? Far better to ignore whomever it was, if indeed there was anyone there at all. Far safer, to simply pretend. To simply imagine him there.
Chapter 16
Happily Diverted
With Jane spending so much of her time happily diverted in the company of either Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mr. Charles Bingley, or oftentimes both of the gentlemen, Elizabeth found herself with an abundance of leisure time.
Despite Jane’s repeated assurances that she would be even more pleased if Elizabeth would join her and her new friends, Elizabeth made whatever excuse she could think of to escape such a fate. This inexplicable attraction to her sister’s suitor was driving her to distraction.
Owing to his penchant to join her during her early morning walks, even that particular pleasure she had begun to forego. And during those times when she had no choice but to be in the gentleman’s company, she found herself hesitant to speak her mind. Too often she would say something or the other which would draw him out, and before either of them knew what they were about, all other members of their party melded into the background. To Elizabeth’s way of thinking, the manner in which she and the gentleman engaged with each other did not seem fair to Jane, although she was not at all displeased with the way Miss Bingley was affected.
Her father was contented to pass a great deal of his time in the library deeply immersed in his old friend Darcy’s extensive collection of books about taxidermy, as well as botany. As Mr. Bennet fancied himself an expert on such matters as these, he rarely looked up from his reading even when Elizabeth entered the room. Experience had taught her not to disturb him when he was in such an attitude. On a happier note, she was positively delighted to see her father being sociable with his old friend.
Elizabeth had not failed to notice the elder Mr. Darcy was becoming a bit of a recluse himself. When he did attend to those matters expected of the master of such a grand estate, he did so with less vigor than when they first arrived at Pemberley. She could not help wondering what that was about.
She liked Miss Georgiana Darcy very much and sometimes spent time with her. However, the young lady’s passion was her music. She spent hours a day practicing. There was no wonder she performed as brilliantly as she did.
What with the colonel gone away to London and even Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s leave-taking to visit her brother’s estate in Matlock, Elizabeth longed for diversion. Miss Anne de Bourgh remained at Pemberley, but Elizabeth certainly was not inclined to spend time alone with her. She likened it to cavorting with the enemy, what with that young lady’s fervent wish to marry her cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Mr. George Wickham’s arrival at Pemberley during the second month of her stay in Pemberley proved to be just the diversion Elizabeth sought. What a handsome man he was, blessed with all the best parts of beauty. Elizabeth would have been in some danger from the gentleman were it not for two very compelling factors. For one, Fitzwilliam Darcy really did not care for the gentleman at all. For another, the colonel had strongly advised her not to be taken in by Mr. Wickham’s charms.
As she was only looking to be diverted, so long as Mr. Wickham acted in accordance with the behavior typified by Fitzwilliam Darcy and the colonel, she saw no reason not to enjoy the handsome gentleman’s smiles and bask in his unabashed adoration. It was not as though she intended to form any serious designs on him.
She rather suspected the gentleman, if he were completely forthcoming, would confess that he was in want of a wife who possessed her own fortune. If this was the basis for the colonel’s ill opinion, then it was an insufficient one at best, for the colonel had openly confessed the same thing.
On the second day after his arrival, Wickham prevailed on her to walk about the park and assured she should rely upon her own opinion of the gentleman, Elizabeth gladly accepted his offer.
“Pray, tell me what you think of Pemberley, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Wickham as he and Elizabeth strolled along side by side.
“Pemberley is magnificent,” she replied.
“I agree. My friend Darcy is very fortunate indeed to one day find himself the master of all of this. I confess to envying him that.”
Slightly taken aback by his frankness, she cried, “But surely you would never wish upon him nor envy him the pain inherent in the bringing about of such an outcome.”
“Indeed, I would not. But what can be more natural than death? Is it not the way of things? However, my pain will be no less than Darcy’s pain when that certain event occurs. He is old Mr. Darcy’s son, but I am his godson. I dare say old Mr. Darcy loves me just as much—as though I were his own flesh and blood.”
“You are very fortunate to be held in such high esteem by such a great man as the elder Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully.
“Indeed. He has always taken such prodigious care of me and will continue to do so even after he is gone. You see, my godfather has assured me that I shall have the living at Kympton when it becomes available,” Wickham’s said. “I have no doubt that any woman would fancy herself fortunate indeed to share such an advantageous future life.”
Is such an assertion meant to satisfy me? Elizabeth wondered. I certainly hope not for should my sister and Mr. Darcy become man and wife, I have no intention of remaining in Derbyshire, despite any promises I may have made to the contrary.
I must put as much distanc
e between Fitzwilliam Darcy and me as possible, for my own sake even if for no one else’s. He must never know the extent to which I am in his power and in a manner in which I may continue to suffer for the unforeseeable future, possibly the rest of my life. No! He must never know—never even suspect.
Indeed. No one must ever know. No one must even suspect.
Chapter 17
Truth Admitted Freely
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, despite his intentions or lack thereof toward Miss Bennet, simply could not help but be distracted by her sister - the beguiling young beauty with dark eyes and more wit and charm in her little finger than any woman of his acquaintance.
How she tempts me like no one else before her, he silently opined whenever he thought of her which seemed to happen all the time, day and night, night and day.
It is more like how Miss Elizabeth Bennet has bewitched me as no woman ever has done before and likely ever will again.
He shook his head as if doing so would release the spell she held over him. Even if he wished it, nothing would ever come of his undeniable attraction to her. It was not so much that his father had all but promised her father that he would marry the eldest Bennet daughter, but rather he simply was not ready to settle down and choose a bride especially considering what he knew about his father’s failing health and the dire prognosis that was meant to be a secret.
I know my father does not wish to burden me. No doubt he trusts that I have attended his tutelage all these years most diligently, and I will execute my role as master of Pemberley as faithfully as did he and his father before him for more generations of Darcy men than I can presently recall. However, what a difference it would make to be able to share this burden with my father. Darcy supposed that was the greatest reason for his desiring to have the Bennets at Pemberley for the summer. He knew from his father that Mr. Thomas Bennet had long been one of his most trusted friends ever since their days at university, a bond so firmly established that even the vast disparity in their wealth did not impede it nor had Mr. Darcy’s choice of a bride from one of the wealthiest families in Derbyshire - a daughter of an earl, no less, and Mr. Bennet’s choice of a bride from a mere country attorney who not only boasted of no wealth, but also had the dubious distinction of bearing ties to trade.
Though such things made no difference to his father, Fitzwilliam Darcy could not exactly say he shared his father’s sentiments. This knowledge that the Bennets had no wealth and such low connections in comparison to his own had practically assured him that he was in no danger from the eldest Bennet daughter regardless of whatever beauty and charms she might possess that might negate her lack of fortune.
All this he managed to keep to himself, save the hints he had given his cousin the colonel. When the time came for the Bennets to return to Hertfordshire and the comforts of their own home, their own lives and most importantly their own sphere, no one would be the wiser that he never meant to marry at all, but rather meant to give his father some peace of mind that he had done his part by his old friend.
Not insensitive to Miss Bennet’s feelings in the least bit, he silently considered that even while attending her most diligently during her stay at Pemberley, he had done and said nothing that would increase her expectations. Here his thoughts tended to his friend Bingley.
Although I cannot say the same for my friend Charles Bingley. He ought not to be surprised.
When has Bingley ever met a fair headed angel who did not render him violently in love at first sight? The greatest risk that Miss Bennet might face regarding her heart lies with Bingley. Darcy prayed the young woman was too sensible to mistake his friend’s infatuation for ardent devotion. More than once he thought to speak with Bingley to advise him to temper his enthusiasm for the young lady’s company and her abundance of smiles, but he did not know that he could, not without embarking upon those matters that he wished not to discuss with anyone.
Then too, there is the matter of Miss Elizabeth, so charming, so witty, so lovely.
It bothered him more than a little that George Wickham had singled her out almost from the moment of his return to Pemberley - the prodigal godson as it were. Seeing Miss Elizabeth with his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam as often as he did had been one thing. At least, Darcy had no concern for her reputation and her safety when with his cousin. As for George Wickham, he could not say the same. A man of Wickham’s vile nature was not to be trusted with anyone. He took some comfort in knowing that Elizabeth had curtailed her propensity for solitary rambles almost completely even though it meant that he no longer had the opportunity to accompany her - alone just the two of them. Unwilling to take any chances, Darcy had informed a trusted servant to in effect be Elizabeth’s protector since it became increasingly obvious to him that Wickham admired her.
Not that he did not trust her to know what she was about because he strongly suspected based on what he had come to know about her that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. He knew Wickham better. Wiser, more worldlier women than Miss Elizabeth had fallen prey to the gentleman’s charms. He was determined that Miss Elizabeth would not be yet another one of Wickham’s conquests. Never in a lifetime would he stand idly by and watch any woman who truly meant something to him be taken advantage of by the likes of George Wickham.
Darcy exhaled a deep sigh of relief. What a revelation this was - this admission that Miss Elizabeth Bennet truly meant something to him.
There it is—the truth admitted freely without reason, without explanation, without anything.
Not that it mattered at the end of the day, regardless of it being the truth, for he had no intention of acting upon it, at least not consciously.
What transpired between him and Miss Elizabeth Bennet in his wildest dreams was another matter altogether. How he cherished their intimate moments even though they were merely the products of his eager, yet most ardent, imagination.
Chapter 18
Proper Decorum
Elizabeth, still as determined as ever to avoid those situations that rendered her vulnerable to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, was finding that she liked the dashing Mr. Wickham more and more each day for it seemed they had a common adversary: Miss Bingley. The young woman did not have a kind word to say to the gentleman, and thus she said as little to him as proper decorum would allow. Likewise, Wickham had little, if anything, to say to her as well.
One evening when it had become exceedingly obvious that Miss Bingley and Mr. Wickham did not care very much for each other, Elizabeth, who always fancied herself a studier of people’s character, sought to know the reason for their mutual dislike.
“You may or may not be aware, Miss Elizabeth, that although old Mr. Darcy is my excellent godfather, my late father - my father, who has passed on, was Mr. Darcy’s steward for some years. Indeed, Miss Bingley did not always suffer my company so poorly as she does now. Upon first making each other’s acquaintance, I would say that that young lady was one of my greatest admirers … that is to say, until she learned about my family.
“How convenient that in showing such undisguised disdain toward me, she has managed to forget that her own family’s wealth was amassed through trade. She is not even a full generation removed from such a supposedly wretched stain, and yet she looks down on those without the means to purchase their entrance into high society. Is there any wonder I find her equally, if not more, intolerable than she finds me? Women of her ilk are my abhorrence.
“You, on the other hand, are a gentleman’s daughter with every claim to all the rights and privileges such a distinction of birth entails, and yet you treat everyone with dignity and respect with no regard for the person’s lineage. Is there any wonder I find it such a pleasure spending time with you?”
“Mr. Wickham, you know so very little about me. Although I am exceedingly honored by your generous and kind commendations, I do not know that I deserve them.”
“On the contrary, Miss Elizabeth, I believe I know you very well. You are charming, witty and oh so lo
vely.” Here, he took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and bestowed a kiss.
Against her will, Elizabeth threw a glance in Mr. Darcy’s direction hoping that he had not observed the gentleman’s gesture. She really did feel some obligation to respect the way he felt about Wickham, even though she did not necessarily feel the same way. His good opinion meant a great deal to her.
To her utter dismay, Mr. Darcy did witness what had unfolded. Perhaps he had been studying the two of them for some time. Whatever was the situation, he made no attempt to mask his disappointment, choosing instead to express his displeasure by quitting the room and thereby ignoring the protests of Miss Bingley, with whom he had been standing.
The worse part was there was nothing to be done about it on Elizabeth’s part — not at that moment. How would it be for her to follow him? What would she say?
Perhaps I shall endeavor to speak with him alone, when I am certain we will not be interrupted, she silently pondered, pulling her hand away from Wickham’s.
Perhaps then, I will find the words to explain to a gentleman who is more obligated to my sister than he will ever be to me that I am in no danger of ever losing my heart to a man whom he so dislikes, even distrusts, because I have already lost my heart to another.
Chapter 19
Particular Moment
Darcy was so thoroughly disappointed watching Miss Elizabeth succumbing to George Wickham’s dastardly charms. He thought surely he knew the young woman better than that. Instead of storming out of the room so unceremoniously as he had, it would have been better simply to walk up to the two of them and request a private audience with her, but by what right could he do such a thing? He had no right to do such a thing as borrow the young woman away from the other gentleman at all. Perhaps if George Wickham had been speaking with Miss Bennet or even his cousin Anne, for that matter, interrupting George’s easy flirtation would have been the thing to do, but not Miss Elizabeth - not without appearing unjustifiably jealous.
