Undoing

by L. L. Diamond

  “I need do nothing for you.” Spittle sprayed from his lip as he hissed the words loudly. “You cannot tell me what to do.”

  “But I can,” said George Darcy as he strode into the room. “A maid happened to overhear this commotion as she passed and found me immediately. Why is my son telling you to empty your pockets?”

  “Godfather! Thank goodness you are here! This bitch claims I have stolen the duchess’s rubies when I have done nothing of the sort. She tells lies, yet they believe her over me.”

  Mr. Darcy crossed his arms over his chest and stepped closer while Elizabeth’s heart stuttered frantically against her ribs. “Why are you in the duchess’s room?”

  “Her maid invited me! That whore invited me! I have nothing!”

  “Empty your pockets,” said the duke. His voice was cold. Elizabeth had never heard him speak with such disdain. The chill of his command sent an uncontrollable shiver down her spine. “George, while I appreciate that he is your ward, I am not blind to this man’s ill nature. I would believe most thieves in Newgate over this worthless young man, and he will not leave this room without producing my wife’s jewels.”

  George Darcy only spared the duke a quick glance. “Very well. George, remove all you carry in your pockets.”

  Though he remained seated with Fitzwilliam towering over him, Wickham strained from the chair towards the elder Darcy. “I did not steal from the duchess! I swear it! Do you not believe me?”

  The duke took a step closer and crossed his arms over his chest so he and Mr. Darcy nearly appeared to be twins. “If you speak the truth, then you have no reason to deny us.”

  Elizabeth watched the scene with her heart pounding even harder than before. The sensation was a strange one and made her skin seem impossibly tight. She did not doubt Lalande, but what would this mean for Mr. Darcy? He must have trusted Mr. Wickham implicitly to allow him a room in his home.

  Mr. Wickham shoved his hand in his pocket but did not remove a thing. “See.”

  “Turn the pockets inside out, Wickham,” said the duke. “Now.”

  The man sneered and stood with a swagger. Slowly, one at a time, he pulled his trouser pockets until the fine lining showed. Two thuds filled the silence of the room as a set of ruby earrings dropped to the carpet from the first pocket. A louder thump sounded when the matching necklace fell from the second.

  “James! Michael!” The two footmen appeared in the door at Mr. Darcy’s summons. “Take Wickham to his chambers. As soon as I have spoken to the duke and duchess, I shall join you. Mr. Wickham is to be stripped to be sure he has taken nothing else, as well as his belongings searched. While we do so, I need someone to pack his trunk. He will depart Pemberley immediately.”

  “Mr. Darcy—”

  Mr. Darcy held up his hand and stepped nose to nose with Wickham. “You could be hanged, George.”

  Wickham’s face blanched, and he swallowed as if he might be sick.

  “Do not abuse my good will,” said Mr. Darcy. “I do this for your father, who would be broken-hearted to witness how you have repaid my generosity. I had heard talk on occasion, but I discounted it as idle rumour. I should have investigated people’s claims further. Based on Fitzwilliam’s reaction, I now wonder at how much I have missed over the years. I am ashamed at how blind I have apparently been.”

  As soon as James and Michael dragged Wickham from the room, Lalande scrambled to retrieve the earrings and necklace from the floor.

  “What has George done in the past?” Mr. Darcy looked to the duke. “I should know.”

  “It was me, Father.” Fitzwilliam stepped forward with his hands clasped behind his back. “I never had the heart to tell you of Wickham’s habits. He gambles and imposes himself on young ladies. I requested Thomas’s aid once with Wickham but swore him to secrecy on the matter.”

  “You should have told me.” His eyes moved back and forth between his son and the duke. “I do expect you to tell me all, but now is not the time. I need to see Wickham searched and have him removed from Pemberley.”

  Her husband shook his head and placed a hand on Mr. Darcy’s shoulder. “You would be doing many a favour if you turned him over to the magistrate.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the duke’s words. As Mr. Darcy had said, Mr. Wickham would be hanged.

  “I cannot. I held too much respect for his father.” The elder Darcy took Elizabeth’s hands. “I cannot tell you how appalled I am. I am sorry this happened at Pemberley and hope you understand why I must resolve this in such a manner.”

  “I do, sir.”

  He kissed the back of her hand and strode through the door followed by Fitzwilliam, leaving her with the duke and Lalande. Her husband immediately closed the door to the corridor. “Leave us,” he said to Lalande. Without a word, she bustled into the dressing room. “How long were you arguing with Wickham?”

  “I’d only discovered him threatening Lalande a few minutes before I opened your chamber door.”

  “We had been in the dressing room. We never heard any argument, or I would have assisted you sooner.”

  “Forgive me for intruding into your rooms,” said Elizabeth with her cheeks on fire. She could not look at him so she stared at the ornate Persian rug on the floor, tracing the lines of the patterns. “I shall not do so again. You have my assurances.”

  “Pray do not make yourself uneasy. I am not angry. I understand why you entered without knocking, though I hope to keep what you witnessed between us. I do not expect you to understand—as most would not, but I love Colin and have for years. Yes, he is my valet, but he offered to be so after we met and fell in love. It was the best way for us to be together without arousing suspicion.”

  “This is why our marriage is what it is?”

  He exhaled heavily, his posture not as straight and tall as was his wont. “Yes. I have always preferred the company of men to women.”

  Her mind spun, and she nearly fell over at how dizzy it rendered her. She had never heard of such a thing, but it did not take a great amount of intelligence to realise how people in their world would view the alliance. “How have you kept society from discovering this . . . your affair? Forgive me. I do not know how to discuss this in so casual a manner.”

  He waved away her unease as he sat in the seat Wickham so recently vacated. “Before our marriage, I visited brothels, but instead of partaking of their services, I paid the women to spread rumours of my patronage. The instances were rare but enough to keep any scrutiny at bay.”

  “And your valet has a bedchamber attached to your dressing room at Worthstone and Worth House, just as Lalande has hers attached to mine. No one has reason to suspect a thing. Quite convenient.” She could not help the sarcasm. “Please do not tell me more.” Now that her fear of his anger had abated, she shook and needed to clench her fists to suppress it.

  “You are angry.”

  “What an astute observation, husband. At least now I know the entire story behind our sham of a marriage. It explains why I have your permission to take a lover—after all, you have one of your own, do you not? Why deny it? I have now seen you kissing him. I have seen the evidence of your affair.”

  “Elizabeth—"

  She held up her hands. “No more. I shall not tell a soul of your relationship with your valet. While I am certain society would be unforgiving, I find I am simply angered by your deception, and I cannot bear to hear more at the moment. Pray, I need to walk. If you could tell Georgiana I have lost my appetite, I shall seek her out when I am more equal to being in the company of others.”

  Her feet carried her with hurried steps back outside and to the river. She walked briskly along the shore, her ire propelling her forward until she broke into a run, sprinting as though fleeing for her life. The cool air rushed through her nose as she ran farther and farther from Pemberley, finally slowing as she neared the footbridge.

  Fitzwilliam stood in the centre, throwing pebbles into the river as it passed beneath the stone arch. He mu
st have heard her approaching since his head jerked up from watching the water.

  Footsteps drew his reverie from the ripples spreading across the glassy surface of the water to Elizabeth, standing along the bank. Her cheeks held a great deal of colour, her chest heaved as she breathed, her hair was windblown, and she appeared quite wild.

  Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows drew towards the centre. Could Wickham have caused this much upset? “Are you well?”

  “Not really, but pray, do not be offended if I say I cannot speak of it.” Her voice was breathless and, despite the inappropriateness of the moment, made his insides flip.

  “Wickham did not harm you?”

  “No,” she shook her head as if he required the emphasis. “I am only disturbed by that which I cannot control. Running allows me to clear my head, albeit briefly.”

  He straightened and placed the remaining pebbles in his hand upon the ledge. “I find riding helps prodigiously.”

  “I had not thought of that.” She scraped her teeth along her bottom lip as she crossed her arms. “Would Georgiana be upset if I rode without her? I simply do not feel equal to company at the moment.”

  He held out one arm for her to take while he gestured forward with the other. “Allow me to escort you to the stables. We shall see you on a horse, and I shall personally escort you around Pemberley. If Georgiana is upset, I shall explain. She rides at times to gain perspective and peace of mind. She would understand.”

  “Thank you,” she said as they crossed the remainder of the bridge.

  His hand covered hers where it sat upon his forearm. “Do not thank me for what I am happy to do.”

  She rested her head near his shoulder, and he stiffened as an urge to bestow a kiss to the top of her head pressed upon him. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the path in front of them. No, no, no. He could not fall in love with Thomas’s wife. He needed to be mindful of his place as well as hers.

  The grooms did not blink twice when he entered and ordered two horses. Georgiana had mentioned since Elizabeth’s arrival how much she had improved, so he specified a horse for her that required a slightly higher level of skill to ride. If she wanted to chase away her problems, a sedate mount would not do at all.

  When he turned, he noticed she wore a morning gown. “I did not think for you to change into your habit.”

  “I do not wish to return to the house,” she begged while shaking her head violently. “Pray, let us just ride.”

  As soon as the groom returned with the horse saddled and ready, he helped her mount the large black mare. “Ride in the grass until I have a horse. I took a chance and ordered Kelpie for you. She is more spirited than the horses you are accustomed to, but I think she will suit your mood more than the mares you have ridden thus far.”

  “Water horse?”

  He patted Kelpie’s neck with a smile. “She escaped when she was younger. We found her up to her knees in the river, so she was renamed.”

  Elizabeth adjusted the reins and sat taller in the saddle. “I like it,” she said before she walked the mare over to the small clearing he had indicated.

  The horse he requested came not long after, so he joined Elizabeth and pointed in the direction of the river. Without speaking, they rode along a pathway until they reached a field that followed the water’s edge. Elizabeth’s horse cantered forward as soon as she cleared the trees, breaking into a gallop moments later. Indeed, she had improved greatly to be able to sit a gallop side-saddle as she was.

  He followed behind until she eventually stopped at the beginning of a rocky slope where he pulled beside her, his chest tightening when she turned to him, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks damp with tears.

  “Lizzy?” His fingers trailed along the edge of her jaw as his thumb brushed a droplet away.

  “Do not ask, for I cannot speak of it.”

  Everything in him screamed to drag her into his arms, to stop her tears, and make some witty comment that might induce her to smile. That twinkle he adored in her eyes was absent, their vibrancy dulled. Moreover, she did not carry herself in quite the same manner.

  Her hand wrapped around his and removed it from her face. She gave it a squeeze. “I shall regain my equanimity. I am not formed for melancholy. I simply require time.”

  He had intended to comfort her, but instead, she reassured him. How he wanted to make her tell him. “Is Thomas aware?” His cousin would certainly repair or handle whatever had disheartened his wife so.

  Her eyes darted back to her reins as she released his hand. “He is.” She surveyed their surroundings. “Where do we go from here?”

  “The peak has a wonderful view of the estate, or if you would prefer to continue on as before, we can ride that way.” He pointed to an opening among the trees. “It is a large path formed by the deer on the estate. More fields lie beyond those trees.”

  She dipped her head in the direction of the trail, urging her horse forward. “Do I need to worry of tiring her too much?”

  “We shall walk until we reach the next clearing. She will have the rest she requires.”

  They spent the remainder of the morning galloping through the fields, which gradually sloped upward until they found themselves close to the top of Stanage Edge. He indicated another path, and Elizabeth followed it until they stood upon the top, the wind blowing her hair around her face and destroying her abigail’s careful construction. How had he missed that she lacked a bonnet as well?

  “It is beautiful,” she breathed. She closed her eyes and lifted her face towards the sun for a minute before she was required to still Kelpie, who shifted restlessly from foot to foot. The horse had definitely been enjoying her run and was now hesitant to stop.

  As she took in the view, she paused on Pemberley in the distance. “Do we have to return? Can we not just ride that way,”—she pointed north with a shaky finger— “never stopping until we find the perfect place? I do not require much. A small cottage would suit me well.”

  She turned and gave a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Do not feel you must answer. I know we cannot. It is simply nice to dream once in a while, is it not?”

  The circles under her eyes and pale complexion made him grit his teeth. What could have made her this sad and mournful? Surely not Wickham? Regardless, this was not her typical disposition. His heart clenched and split in two. “It is,” he said softly.

  She did not say another word but steered her horse with care down the rocky path. Their return to Pemberley passed at a slower, more sedate pace since the horses had been worked hard on their outbound ride. Elizabeth remained quiet, only stopping once to watch a herd of deer grazing along the bank of the river.

  Once their horses were safely in the hands of the grooms, Fitzwilliam followed Elizabeth to the house but remained in the hall as she climbed the stairs to refresh herself from the morning out of doors. When had her happiness become more important than his responsibilities or even his own needs? He had just spent several hours riding when he should have been meeting with the steward, and he would do the same as often as he could if it meant basking in the glow of her attention.

  “Fitzwilliam?”

  He started at his father’s voice, his eyes having a difficult time leaving Elizabeth as she turned in the direction of the guest wing. “I am certain you wish to reprimand me for never telling you of Wickham.”

  “After speaking with Thomas, I believe I understand. I hope in the future, you will trust me with any matter, regardless of how you believe I shall respond.”

  “Of course.”

  His father took in his attire. “You rode again?”

  Fitzwilliam’s eyes returned to the top of the stairs. Elizabeth could no longer be seen. She had continued on to her rooms. God help him, he was in love with her. When had it happened? When had he fallen? He could not pin it to a particular moment. His heart had been lost before he had even realised. “Lizzy wished to ride, so I had Kelpie saddled for her and accompanied her in the event she required h
elp.”

  “She rode Kelpie? I am surprised you did not give her a less spirited horse. Kelpie is not as wild as some, but she still requires a firm hand.”

  He could not help but allow the slight lift of his lips. “She handled her excellently.”

  His father pressed a hand to the back of his shoulder. “She is married, Son.”

  “As I am well aware, Father.” He held his father’s eye without wavering. “As I am well aware.”

  Chapter 8

  July 31st 1809

  Longbourn

  Hertfordshire

  My dear Lizzy,

  What a wonderful time you had at Pemberley! The Darcys sound so affable and agreeable. I do hope one day to have the opportunity to make their acquaintance, but until then, I shall enjoy reading of them through your letters. You describe people so well. I am certain your assessments cannot be far from the truth.

  I spoke with Papa about visiting you during the Season. He agreed, though he had little choice once Mama eavesdropped upon my request. I know this is months away, but I anticipate seeing you with my own eyes. I have missed your humour as well as your faithful companionship at Longbourn. Charlotte calls often, yet she is not you and never could be.

  My father is attempting to educate dear Mary beyond theology. He has hired a master in the hopes of improving her playing, though he holds little hope for an improvement in her singing. His latest idea is for them to read and discuss Julius Caesar. He has dropped her from a high ledge into Pandora’s Box by taking her from sermons to politics, murder, and revenge. I do hope she will not be too traumatised.

  I hope your return to Worthstone was an easy journey. I confess I shall miss your descriptions of Mr. Bingley and his sisters. Poor Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy! Forced to fend off the advances of Miss Bingley while not offending the brother. The situation sounds unpleasant, to say the least. Her comments about you, dear sister, were uncharitable, though I cannot believe she meant those statements the way they sounded. I do commend your husband and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy for defending you.

  I must go. Lady Lucas and Charlotte have called. Netherfield has new tenants once again, and Mama is beside herself to know who they are. Perhaps Lady Lucas has some news.