But there was no time to think on it. She sat down at her desk and opened the letter. She read it quickly once through and then started at the beginning and read it more slowly, now that she had determined no one was ill or in danger or hurt.
After the second read-through, she closed the letter and took out a piece of paper. She wrote a quick response back to Jane that said that she had indeed chosen Mr. Darcy and London, and that she hoped that her family would not shun her, but she would understand if they must. She folded it up.
“What?” said Mr. Darcy, who was now sitting on the bed wearing his trousers but no shirt. “What does the letter say?”
“I had thought I would be able to tell her myself,” said Elizabeth. “But I had forgotten of her connection to Mr. Bingley now. Of course, tongues would have been wagging about us at the ball last night. He would have told her of it before I got the chance. She is angry with me.”
“Her connection to Mr. Bingley?” Darcy raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, they are to be married.” Elizabeth smiled. “I am happy for her. Lord knows Jane deserves this. She is so good. Much better than I shall ever be. I am… well, wicked.”
Darcy rubbed his chin, not meeting her gaze. “Married?”
They were quiet.
“I don’t know if Bingley will insist that she not associate with me,” said Elizabeth. “I have told her that I do not blame her if it must be so.”
Darcy sniffed. He got up off the bed and fished his shirt up off the floor. He shrugged into it. “Well, you have made your choices, I suppose.”
“Don’t be like that,” said Elizabeth. “Not after everything was so… so good between us.”
“I am not being like anything,” said Darcy, tucking in his shirt.
“You are. You are cold to me now, out of nowhere, when a moment ago, I could have sworn you wanted to have me again and that—”
He turned on her, grasping her shoulders, and cutting off her words by crushing his lips against hers.
She went limp against him, surrendering to the kiss, everything falling away. He was the only thing keeping her upright.
And then he let go of her, and she stumbled before righting herself.
He studied his knuckles. “I do want you. I would rip that chemise off of you and take you again now. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
Thrills went through her. “Well, I… I feel the same.”
He raised his gaze to hers. “I swore I wouldn’t ask you again. It would be the very soul of idiocy for me to do so. I shan’t do it. I shan’t listen to you refuse me. But… I only want to say that you needn’t choose, Lizzy, between me and your family. If you were my wife…”
She swallowed hard.
He searched her expression, and there was a such a vulnerability in his countenance that it seemed to physically cut her.
She tore her eyes away, feeling a lump rise in her throat.
“Anyway,” he said, drawing himself up. “Consider it an open offer.” He raised his chin. “I should like to see you tonight.”
She smiled. “Yes. I should like that too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Darcy couldn’t concentrate on anything. He was supposed to be looking over the ledgers for some of the farms near Pemberley, but the numbers were swimming in front of his face, and all he could think about was Elizabeth.
He had not known it could be like that with a woman. He had never experienced anything like it. Before, he had always felt as if there was some barrier between him and whatever woman he was with. With women in his youth, it had been that they were more experienced than he and that they were only performing a service, lying beneath him and pretending to enjoy themselves. With Anne, it had been a wall of fear that he had tried to batter his way through rather than soothing her until she lowered it. He had lain with women before, had been inside them, but had never truly been inside, not until now.
Elizabeth had opened herself to him in a way that was so intimate it made him shudder. He felt a reverence toward it, toward her. He felt fortunate to have been gifted that secret part of her. He wanted her again. He was staggered by the ache he had for her. But he was stunned that he had even been allowed to have her in the first place.
Certainly, what they had shared, it couldn’t be sordid and wicked. Perhaps she was his mistress in name, but the way they had been joined, it was something else, something almost magical and he—
“…sent him away, of course.”
Darcy realized one of his footmen was talking to him. “What?” he said, blinking at the boy.
“That Mr. Wickham you warned us about came to the door, but I sent him away.”
“Oh,” said Darcy. “Capital.” Someone was finally listening to him.
“He said that I shouldn’t have, that you would not want him spreading news around town about Mrs. Fieldstone and her family. Something about someone named Bennet, but I told him that you were taking risks now, and that you wouldn’t have paid for his silence in any case.”
Mr. Darcy felt a cold knife go through him. “You said what?”
The footman blinked, looking nervous. “Did I do the wrong thing, sir? Ought I have invited him in? Considering you did not return home until the morning—”
“Oh, dash it all,” said Darcy, standing up. “What did he say? Did he say he would come back? Did he say that he would go and spread the story straightaway?”
“Well, he seemed drunk, sir.”
“Oh, brilliant.” Darcy massaged the bridge of his nose. “So, he would have had nothing to induce him to keep his mouth closed. Damn Wickham. Damn him.”
* * *
The bad thing was that Darcy didn’t know of any of Wickham’s haunts anymore. Back when they had both been young, in the years during and after their shared schooling, he had known the taverns and places that Wickham liked to visit, but now, he was forced to go to various places that seemed as though they might please Wickham, which meant that his morning and much of his afternoon were taken up in fruitless inquiry.
But finally, he did find the man, though not in a tavern.
Instead, Wickham was wandering out of the back of one, buttoning his jacket, his hair askew and his cravat missing, looking for all the world as though he’d just woken up. When he saw Darcy, he gave him an insouciant grin. “Ah, Darcy! What brings you to this part of the city?”
“Looking for you,” Darcy said grimly. “I understand you came to my house last night.”
“Indeed,” said Wickham. “I was looking for you, but you weren’t there.”
“I had business to attend to,” said Darcy.
“Oh, truly?” chortled Wickham. “Because I heard from everyone who I spoke of you to that you had been at a ball dancing with the mysterious Mrs. Fieldstone.”
Darcy gritted his teeth. “Tell me that you did not say anything to anyone about Mrs. Fieldstone’s true identity?”
“Why, of course I did.” Wickham spread his hands. “How could I not? Your footman told me that you had no intention of paying me any more money, and that you didn’t care what I blabbed about London.”
Darcy felt an icy hand close over his spine.
Wickham laughed again and gave Darcy a little bow.
Darcy wanted to grab him by the throat and choke the life out of him. He didn’t. “You utter…” Sputtering, he couldn’t even find an insult worthy of him. “You have no idea what it is that you’ve done.”
“I know exactly what I’ve done,” said Wickham.
“You’ve ruined a woman who doesn’t deserve it and cast aspersion on her innocent sisters. Not only that, you can’t get any more money from me by blackmailing me to keep your mouth shut, so you’ve cut off your flow of currency there. All in all, I’d say that everyone loses, Wickham.”
Wickham wrinkled up his nose, thinking about this. “Oh, well, perhaps… you know, I was so drunk, Darcy.”
“How many people did you tell?”
“Anyone who woul
d listen,” said Wickham.
* * *
Elizabeth was sitting down for a light luncheon when she received another letter delivered by a servant, this one also from one of her sisters. But this one was not from Jane, but rather from Lydia. It was short. It simply stated that they must all meet at the home where Jane and the others resided and that calamity had struck.
Calamity? Elizabeth didn’t like the sound of that. She wasn’t even sure if she was welcome back under Jane’s roof, but she hurried there as quickly as she could. When she got to the door, she was ushered inside by Kitty, whose face was white. She went into the parlor, where they were all assembled, even Lydia.
Lydia was pacing in front of the fireplace, in a brightly colored morning gown that was trimmed in miles of lace. Her face looked pinched.
Mary was sitting on the couch, her head bowed. She didn’t look up when Elizabeth came in.
But Jane leapt out of her seat and ran to her, taking her hands. “Oh, Lizzy, you’re here.”
“What’s happened?” said Elizabeth. “What calamity has struck?”
“It’s all over town,” said Lydia. “Everyone knows that I am, in fact, Lydia Bennet, and that you are not Mrs. Fieldstone but Elizabeth Bennet. They have all connected you to the business with Cumberbottom. It is so delicious a scandal that people will not cease talking about it for months and months, I fear. Possibly even all year. It is dreadful.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth, turning to look at Mary. “Oh, I am so sorry.”
“Yes, of course,” Mary said drearily. “You offer your apologies, but you cannot stem the tide of woe that comes to us because of your transgressions.”
“Oh, stop that, Mary,” said Lydia, pacing more quickly. “No one wants to hear you quoting scripture.”
“That was not scripture,” said Mary. “That was my own words.”
“Well, you read the bible too much, then,” said Lydia. “Because you sound as though you are spouting scripture when you are not.”
“You, my sister, are bound for hellfire,” said Mary. “You must repent of your sins and beg for forgiveness—”
“Yes, yes,” said Lydia. “Perhaps on my deathbed. But for now, we have other things to think of. It does not matter if my immortal soul is saved. It matters now that everyone in the family is ruined.”
“We were already as good as ruined,” Mary said.
“No, we weren’t,” burst out Kitty from the doorway, where she was hovering. “There was hope. After all, Mr. Bingley—”
“Oh, I had forgotten,” said Lydia, turning on Jane. “Have you heard from him?”
“Well, he was here this morning,” said Jane, but she looked ill. “However, it was only because he did not approve of Lizzy choosing to be Mr. Darcy’s mistress instead of a life of propriety. He did not know that the news had spread all over town.”
“You won’t hear from him again,” Lydia said.
“What?” said Elizabeth. “You think that Mr. Bingley will break his engagement? But to do so is monstrous.”
“It is dishonorable to break an engagement, to be sure,” said Lydia. “But how much more dishonorable is it to wed the sister of two notoriously loose women? His association with you, Jane, would be disastrous. He will break it off.”
“Oh,” said Jane, sitting down, her lower lip trembling.
“Lydia!” admonished Elizabeth.
“I am only telling the truth,” said Lydia.
“You might have put it a bit more gently,” Elizabeth said.
“There is no gentle way to put it,” Lydia said. “This is the way of things. Now, I know that all of you had resisted coming to live with me before, but I think we must revisit that idea.” She turned to Elizabeth. “You can take Mary and Jane, and I shall take Kitty.”
“No,” said Jane. “We won’t do anything of the sort.”
“I will not live in a house of ill repute,” said Mary.
“There is no reason for you to stay in this dreadful place,” said Lydia. “There are no appearances to be kept up. Between Lizzy and I, we shall be able to keep everyone comfortable.”
“And if one of us wants to strike out on her own and lie with men as well?” said Mary sharply. “I suppose you’ll encourage our depravity to help put food on the table.”
“Listen, Mary,” said Lydia, “I know you have some idea in your head that what I do is sinful, but it is not. It is a double standard. Men are allowed to dally with whatever woman they choose, and they are not condemned for it.”
“They are,” countered Mary. “The Lord sees all, and he will judge on the last day.”
“Well, anyway, it’s not the same,” said Lydia. “And I don’t think it has anything to do with God or sin. It has to do with babies. Men don’t like it when they can’t be sure if a child is theirs or not. So, they keep women locked up in houses and teach them that it is sinful to give in to their natural desires, that they must fight what their own bodies want. But just because they say we must pass from our father’s house to our husband’s house with no time to understand who we are or to find our own way to love and to explore our emotions and our pleasures, that doesn’t mean we have to listen. I am not a sinner. I am a woman doing my best. And if I happen to enjoy the freedoms that my station gives me, well, then, why shouldn’t I?”
Mary flinched.
Jane blinked.
Elizabeth cocked her head at her sister. She didn’t think she’d heard so much passion or intelligence come out of Lydia’s mouth in… well, ever.
“I have not fallen,” said Lydia. “I warrant my life is more full and more free than any wife’s. I am my own. I belong to no one. That is my triumph.”
Kitty licked her lips. “It sounds… lonely.”
“Oh, does it?” said Lydia. “More lonely than what you have here? This sad little house, patching all your clothes, refusing to take too much money from me or Lizzy?”
“Well, we have each other,” said Kitty.
It was quiet.
A long silence settled over all of the sisters.
Elizabeth looked out the window at the dirty street outside and she knew that she had been exposed, and that there were people out there talking about her, in much the same way as they had after the incident with Cumberbottom. Except, it would be worse this time, much worse. She felt a tremor at the thought of it, but… strangely… it didn’t feel as bad as she thought it would. What did their words do to her, really? She was already cut off from their society. She had survived all this time without it. Perhaps, when she had refused Mr. Darcy—
“I don’t think Bingley will break it off,” Kitty suddenly burst out with. “I don’t.”
“He will,” whispered Jane. “Lydia is right. He would have to wish himself ruin to marry me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dearest Fitzwilliam,
I know that we had plans to be together tonight, but I cannot do so. I am sorry, but matters have become rather grave, and I must spend the evening with my sisters. I suppose you must realize by now that I have been exposed. All of the city knows now that I am Mrs. Fieldstone, and they know what we have done together. It is a blow for you too, to have concealed your mistress, passed her off as someone respectable. But you will weather it easily. You are a man, and you are Mr. Darcy, master of Pemberley. It is different for you.
For us, we are devastated. And Jane especially is beside herself. We have not heard word from Mr. Bingley since all this happened. We fear the worst. He must break his engagement with Jane, because he cannot marry her now. We do understand it, but we are all deeply saddened. I feel it is especially hard on my sister, for she has suffered through so much with no respite. And now that something good has happened, it has been snatched away from her before she can enjoy it. It is not fair.
I cannot help but blame myself. I did not think of the others when I was with you last night. I was selfish, and I had no care for what might happen. I was brazen, and someone must have recognized me. I hear that Mrs
. Heathspar, (the former Miss Bingley) is now back from her honeymoon. Perhaps it was her. Though I would not trade our night together for anything, I wish that I had not done this thing to hurt my sister so terribly.
I do not know when I will be able to see you again.
Please accept my apologies and my love.
Yours,
Lizzy
* * *
Dearest Lizzy,
You mustn’t blame yourself for what occurred. In fact, it is unfortunately my fault that this has befallen your family. I know how your identity was discovered, and it was not because of Mrs. Heathspar. It was Mr. Wickham who did it. He came to my house last night while you and I were together, and he was turned away. He revealed your identity out of spite, because he is a blackguard and a villain. He has no care for anyone but himself.
It is my fault, though, because I had given my staff instructions to turn him away. Had I not done so, he might have been waiting for me this morning, and I might have paid him his money and your secret would still be safe. I am grieved when I think of my part in all of this. I have never wished ill to your sisters, and I am dreadfully sorry that this has all come about.
Please, take all the time you need to be with your sisters. If you are not so terribly angry with me that you will see me again, I shall be your willing servant whenever and wherever you wish.
With deepest apologies,
Fitzwilliam
* * *
Mr. Charles Bingley was not at all pleased to learn that not one but both of his sisters had come to visit him. He had not enjoyed even an entire month and a half of peace since Caroline had been married and moved away, and he would have been happy with many more weeks of silence before either one of them descended upon the house again. Surely, he would have done the courteous thing then, and invited them to dine with him. But until then, he would have liked not to have seen them at all.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love his sisters. He had an abundance of brotherly fondness for them. They were, of course, his only living family. He would do whatever it was that he could for them.
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