But now, he had her. And he was forced to see her as a flesh and blood woman, not as the ephemeral pieces of a dream that he had wove in his imagination.
Upon reflection of his behavior, he was suddenly appalled. He had fantasized about Elizabeth, but he had never sought her out. While he was longing for her, she had suffered. Now, he was only hurting her worse, and for his own sinful wants and needs. He was a weak vessel. He didn’t deserve Elizabeth.
And yet, here he was, climbing up the steps to her bedchamber in the dead of the night, going to her even though he had tried to stay away.
He hated himself, and he did not want to use her and hurt her and not bring her pleasure in the process, but here he was. It was so late that the house was all abed, even the servants. He had let himself in with his key and now he crept silently through the darkness.
When he reached her bedchamber, it was dark inside.
He moved through the darkness to stand at the foot of the bed.
She was asleep, curled up around a pillow, her hair in a hastily done braid that fell over her cheek. She must have braided it up when she decided he wasn’t coming to her.
He could wake her.
But he was glad that she was asleep and that he did not have to struggle with himself over what to do. He wanted her, but he did not want to want her, not like this. This way, they could just sleep again, as they had before. That had been rather nice. Darcy had not shared a bed with another person often during his life. He found the closeness comforting.
He shed much of his clothing and then climbed into the bed in only the bottom layer of clothes. He wrapped his body around Elizabeth’s.
She sighed in her sleep and snuggled into his warmth.
He shut his eyes. Holding her thus, he felt peace.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Elizabeth awoke the next morning, she noted that Mr. Darcy’s jacket and his vest were slung over a chair near the bed. He had come after all! Why hadn’t he awoken her? She called for her maid to dress, but Meggy informed her that Mr. Darcy was down at breakfast, and that he was not dressed.
So, Elizabeth only pulled on a sleeping jacket before joining him.
His face lit up when he saw her. “Good morning,” he said.
“When did you arrive?” she said.
“Oh, quite late,” he said. “Everyone was asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“But, sir, the entire point of your visit was to…” She trailed off, looking around to see if the servants were nearby and listening in. Sighing, she got up and went to close the door to the dining room.
She went over to the sidebar, where a modest breakfast was set out. She helped herself to some rolls and smoked meat and a glass of chocolate. Then she sat down with Mr. Darcy. “Did something keep you?”
“Hmm?” He was gazing at her, a smile playing on his lips.
She flushed. The way he was looking at her, it was like the penetrating gaze he gave her sometimes, only there wasn’t searing heat in it, only gentle warmth, and it was more intimate for that somehow. “Last night,” she said, looking away. “Was there something pressing you needed to attend to? Something that made you so late?”
“Not really.” He lifted his tea cup and took a sip.
“Oh,” she said.
“Listen,” he said. “I think it has become clear to me that I can’t fulfill certain, mmm, parameters of our arrangement. I would prefer that we agree that you and I will not engage in… congress, and then never speak of it again.”
She sat back in her chair and surveyed him. “I have done something that displeases you.”
“No, it is not that. It is only that I cannot get past the guilt of it. I find it insurmountable.”
“Guilt over what?”
“Over ruining you.”
“But I am already ruined, sir.”
“No, you are not. Unless…” He sat up straight, suddenly. “You have not misrepresented yourself as untouched?”
“Of course, I have not been with a man in that way, sir.” She picked up a roll and ripped it open. “I only mean that I was compromised by Cumberbottom and that you and I have spent the night in each other’s company, even if we have not engaged in anything further, and that is enough to ruin a woman rather thoroughly. So, there is no point in feeling further guilt, because the damage is done.”
“It is not about what people think, madam.”
“What is it about then?”
“Well, it’s difficult to explain, but it would be… wrong to have you in that way. It would sully you, and I can’t allow myself to do that.”
She sighed. “But Mr. Darcy, I thought we had already—”
“I know that you are unwilling to receive payment when you are not performing services,” he said, stabbing some meat on his plate with a fork. “So, I have thought of that. I have need of your help. You were remarkable last night at the ball. You got my sister out of that dreadful mask, and she actually danced a bit. I have been utterly useless with her. So, I propose that you accompany us to balls for the rest of the season, and you work with my sister until she finds a husband.”
“To balls? Masquerade balls?”
“Well, any of them, truthfully,” he said.
“But I shall be recognized.” She had not worried over this before, but the sight of the Bingleys had shaken her.
“You won’t,” he said. “No one in London knows you.”
“What about the Bingleys?”
“Well, Miss Bingley is to be married and will be on her honeymoon and Mr. Bingley will be guided by me if he recognizes you. There is no one else.”
“What of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst? They would surely recognize me!”
“If we see them, we shall stay clear of them.”
“But what if that’s not enough?”
“You will be introduced as someone else, and the resemblance can be explained away if anyone picks up on it. I have thought on this, and I do not think it an impediment to my plan. I need help finding a husband for my sister.”
“What makes you think I’d be any good at that? I have never found a husband for anyone. None of my sisters are married either. I know nothing of the entire enterprise.”
“Well, you are quite good at dancing and being winsome, and Georgiana could learn from your example.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Darcy. It is all so very strange.” She sighed. “But I do suppose that I had thought I might have to accompany you into society when I agreed to be your mistress.”
“Exactly,” he said. “So, then, all is essentially the same. Except there is to be no more talk of French letters or any of those other things.”
“I see,” she said.
“I may come sometimes,” he said. “To sleep. I like to be close to you. But nothing more than that.”
“And you promise me that there is nothing that I am doing that displeases you?”
“I swear it, Miss Bennet. You are quite perfect. It is your perfection that makes it impossible for me to…”
“Sully me, yes.” She laughed softly under her breath. And then she shrugged. “Well, it is your money, Mr. Darcy. You are paying me, and I am yours to do with as you wish.”
“Oh, don’t say things like that.” He grimaced. “That is exactly what turns my stomach.”
* * *
Darcy shut the door to the sitting room in his home. “I really must speak to the servants here about allowing you access, Mr. Wickham.”
Wickham turned to look at him from where he was standing at the fire. “Good to see you again, Darcy.”
“I’m not going to give you any more money,” said Darcy. “You were just recently here, and I am not inclined to—”
“I understand that you have Miss Elizabeth Bennet as your mistress,” said Wickham. “And what’s more, you’re passing her off as some rich widow named Mrs. Fieldstone.”
Darcy massaged the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache. Right behind his temples. “Have you come to ridicul
e me, Wickham? Do it, and be on your way, then.”
“I assume that, since you are not giving out her name, you wish her identity to remain secret,” said Wickham. “And I will be sure to keep my mouth shut. But that will cost you.”
Darcy groaned. “You are blackmailing me?”
“If word gets out about Miss Elizabeth, it will ruin her entire family’s reputation. Oh, and besides, I also know that the youngest sister is the famous Miss Lydia Swan, and I could begin flapping my lips about that as well. If you care about Miss Elizabeth, you’ll pay me what I ask for.”
Darcy looked at Wickham in disgust. “You are foul, do you know that?”
“Well, not all of us were born to wealth and comfort, Darcy. Some of us must make our way in the world with rather a bit more hindrances.”
“Hindrances? You have been given more advantages than most. An education. The chance at a living that would have made you a gentleman. Numerous handouts from me. You are not in any way hindranced, Mr. Wickham, except perhaps by your own base nature.”
Wickham shrugged. “Are you going to lecture me or pay me? The longer you lecture, the longer I’ll stay.”
“Oh, Lord,” said Darcy. “Yes, fine. How much do you want, wretch?”
* * *
“Now, this dress,” said Mr. Darcy as he and Elizabeth moved together on the dance floor at a ball at the home of the Chadwicks. “Is this one new?”
“Indeed,” said Elizabeth. “How kind of you to notice.”
“Well, one notices such things when one is being sent the bills,” said Darcy, winking at her.
She laughed, throwing her head back, happy in a way that she couldn’t quite explain. There was something carefree about these balls. She could get used to this sort of life, staying up late, being merry, buying new dresses. “Well, I had worn every single dress that I owned within the last week.”
“And I suppose it would not do to be seen in a dress one had already worn.”
“Why, of course not,” she said, lifting her chin. “Mrs. Fieldstone wouldn’t be caught dead doing such at thing.”
He chuckled, and he pulled her close, his hand at her waist, looking down into her eyes.
She felt her heart pick up speed. Sometimes, when they were dancing, she felt so close to him that she thought that whatever it was that made things awkward and strange between them must melt away by the force of the warmth between them.
In those moments, everything seemed so perfect. In those moments, she wasn’t sure that she didn’t love him, even though she had protested so much to the contrary. But the moments never lasted forever.
And just then, the music ended, and they returned together to the side of the room.
“Where is Georgiana?” said Darcy, looking around the room.
“She is there,” said Elizabeth, nodding. “She has a full dance card tonight.”
“As she has every night,” said Darcy. “You are a miracle worker with her.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Elizabeth, who did not think that she was making any progress at all. Though men lined up to dance with Georgiana, they did not come to call on her, at least they had not so far. That was what her inquiries to Mr. Darcy had told her. And there were no offers, even though Georgiana was beautiful and an heiress besides.
It should have been different, Elizabeth knew it. But there was something about Georgiana. One didn’t notice it at first, but the more one conversed with her, the more one began to realize that there was something a little off about her. She was, of course, not much of a conversationalist, but that shouldn’t matter overmuch. Men did enjoy lively conversation with women, but they also did not require it.
When Georgiana did speak, when you spoke with her at length, you began to realize that she was not much interested in anything besides, well, herself and her piano playing. It wasn’t a vain affection, not as if she was a selfish, spoiled girl, although Elizabeth remembered Wickham characterizing her as such, and she could see why someone might think it if they only gave it a short consideration.
But Elizabeth could see it was not done out of malice. It was as if Georgiana was missing something. She was quite intelligent and quite accomplished, but the part of her that would be social, it wasn’t there. She was unable to interact with others, not in a normal fashion.
Elizabeth did not hold out a great deal of hope for Georgiana, but she did not know how to say this to Darcy.
“I do know,” said Darcy. “She has been doing so much better. I think she will soon be married.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together.
Darcy looked around the room. “Well, I am quite happy for Georgiana to dance and to sit here on the sidelines instead.”
“You do not wish to dance again?” she said.
“Does that displease you?” He smiled at her. “I would dance if you wish it.”
“We are scandalous, sir. You dance with me so many times people think we must be engaged, and we are setting tongues wagging. So, perhaps it is better if we do sit this out.”
“Marvelous,” he said. “Would you like some punch? I shall procure us some.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
All smiles, he left her there.
When he returned with the punch, she accepted it and took a sip.
She looked him over. “You seem to enjoy dancing, at least when we are dancing together.”
“Oh, indeed. I very much enjoy dancing with you.” He picked up her hand and kissed it, winking at her.
Her smile widened. She had grown used to the way they were with each other, and it was pleasing. There was no more talk of the two of them being intimate, but she did sometimes wake to find his warm flesh wrapped around her in her bed, and she loved that closeness on those occasions. Sometimes, though, it did make her burn for something more, but she did not ask for that. This was a pleasant existence, all told. She was happy. “But then, if you enjoy dancing, why was it so necessary to have me with you at these balls? Why do you need to pay me to be your dance partner?”
“Oh, I have told you, I don’t like dancing with strangers.”
“But why not?” she said.
“It is…” He looked out at the couples twirling on the dance floor. “The risk of it, I suppose.”
“What’s risky about dancing?”
“Well, it’s never about that, is it?” he said. “It’s always about some possible promise that something will happen in the future. The women who dance with me, they all want something from me.”
“Dancing with someone doesn’t promise marriage,” she said.
“No,” he said. “But it doesn’t deny it either. And I can’t possibly marry all the women I dance with. So, it’s just about crushing women’s hopes, one after the other. And I dislike that.”
“Oh, you are taking a very dim view of it,” she said.
“And say it does go well,” he said. “Say that I find someone I like, and that we do go on to be married. Then it all ends in blood and ruin anyway.”
She furrowed her brow and made her voice soft. “Mr. Darcy, many women deliver babies with no problems at all.”
“But it is a risk,” he said. “And the risk is the most dire of circumstances. When I dance with a woman, there is a risk that down the road, I shall kill her.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I say, Darcy,” said Mr. Bingley, pulling him aside.
Mr. Darcy was on his way to get more punch, this time for Georgiana, who said that she was tired of dancing and was only being convinced to continue by Elizabeth’s idea that she have a bit more to drink, in order to fortify her.
“Bingley,” said Darcy. “I had no idea you were here.” He had not seen Bingley as of late, and they had been to a great many balls lately.
“Yes, well, here I am,” said Bingley. “If I could just speak to you—”
“Perhaps in a moment? I am in a bit of a hurry, you see. I must find some punch for my sister.”
“Well, actua
lly, I should like to—”
“I will find you later, I swear it.” Darcy started to pull way.
“Mrs. Fieldstone?” called Bingley, rather loudly.
Darcy’s heart sank. Ah, yes, he had quite forgotten that Bingley would recognize Elizabeth. He stopped and turned back to his friend. “Yes?”
“She is Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Bingley. “Is she not?”
Darcy sighed.
“I don’t understand. Did Miss Elizabeth somehow marry this Fieldstone within the past few years? I had thought that after that dreadful incident at Rosings, that she was on the shelf.”
“Listen,” said Darcy. “I would beg that you not tell anyone you have recognized her. The truth is, there is no Mr. Fieldstone, and there never was. It is only a story I concocted to help protect the reputation of her sisters. You see, Miss Bennet is my mistress.”
Bingley’s lips parted in shock. “Your mistress?”
Darcy nodded.
“You… you cad!” said Bingley. “How could you do such a thing to woman of her station?”
“Well,” Darcy found himself sputtering, “she was already of a compromised reputation—”
“Which was rather your fault,” said Bingley.
Darcy rubbed his chin. “Yes, well, I… it all happened in a rather strange way. But I am helping her and helping her sisters.”
“Oh, her sisters,” said Mr. Bingley. “What about the eldest Miss Bennet? What has become of her?”
“She is well,” said Mr. Darcy. “I am seeing to them all, I tell you. It is difficult, because Miss Elizabeth does not wish them to know about her, er, status, so I have not been able to convince her to move them out of that dreadful place where they are living—”
“Dreadful?” said Bingley. “Lord, Darcy, what is the matter with you?”
“Mr. Bingley—”
“No, I’m sorry,” said Mr. Bingley, sighing. “It is not you I am cross with, truly. It is myself. What is the matter with me? Why did I never think to look for Miss Bennet?”
“Well,” said Darcy, grimacing, “I did tell you that she wasn’t interested in you, didn’t I? And I recall now that I concealed from you that she had come to London to see you, which would have indicated that she was actually interested and—”
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