Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions

by Valerie Lennox

  He mustn’t think on this anymore. Perhaps she had escaped unharmed. Perhaps she was not with child. Perhaps all this worry on his part was for no reason.

  Kneeling down, he slid his arm under her shoulder. Then he slid one under her knees. He lifted her and carried her out of his cabin, back to her own room, where he laid her gently on her bedroll.

  She furrowed her brow in her sleep.

  He kissed her on the forehead. “I’m very sorry,” he murmured.

  Then he straightened, backed out of the room, and shut the door.

  * * *

  When Elizabeth woke up, she looked around her room and wondered if the previous night had been a dream.

  But then she tried to move, and she felt dull aches and pain in muscles she rarely used, and she knew… She shut her eyes, and she could still feel his movement inside her, the rhythm of their coupling. They had been so close, so connected.

  Her eyes snapped open and his absence was an arrow in her heart.

  Where was he?

  Why was she alone in her room?

  She hurriedly dressed and left her room, heading up to the main deck of the ship. One of the men, Patrick Horn, was swabbing the deck.

  “Have you seen the captain?” she asked him.

  Horn looked up. “Will you be reading to us today, miss?”

  “Of course,” she said. “But it’s morning—” She looked up at the sun in the sky. “Oh, I must have slept late. I didn’t realize what time it was. Has the time for reading passed?”

  “We were waiting for you is all,” said Patrick.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Maybe… maybe we’ll have to wait until tomorrow. It’s important I find the captain. Do you know where he is?”

  “Last I saw him, he was heading down to the hold with Mackie,” said Patrick.

  “The hold?” She’d been right next to him, then. She needed to go back down into the belly of the ship. She turned to go, and then looked back at Patrick. “Do tell the men that I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded. “It’s all right, miss. Only, I hope you’re feeling well if you’re sleeping so long.”

  She gave him a wan smile.

  As she headed back down into the ship, the weight of what had happened the night before settled on her.

  She had smoked opium! Of all the shocking, unladylike…

  Of course, that paled in comparison to the fact that she had given up her virtue. She couldn’t even say that she’d been seduced either. She distinctly remembered that she’d had to talk him into it.

  Talk Fitzwilliam into it.

  He’d asked her to call him Fitzwilliam.

  She had to stop on the steps, grab onto something to steady herself as a shudder of pleasure went through her.

  Oh, she didn’t care if she had been scandalous and improper the night before. It had been wonderful, and she had no reason to regret any of it.

  She just wanted to see him again. She wanted to be close to him, to touch him. It seemed a crime that they had been so, so close and now they were utterly separate. Knowing that closeness with him, now she felt as if she wasn’t quite whole on her own.

  She skipped down the steps and hurried into the hold.

  There.

  He was there.

  She saw him and her insides froze and turned over. He was heart-stoppingly beautiful, and she was assailed by the memories of their kisses, of their embraces, of their caresses.

  She wanted to go to him and touch him right then, but she felt a little shy in front of Mackie.

  Instead, she slowly made her way into the area. It was stacked full of bags of provisions—grain and tea and the like. Mackie was scribbling something on a sheet of paper while Darcy spoke to him.

  Darcy looked up and saw her. “Oh,” he said. “Miss Bennet.”

  Why hadn’t she told him to call her Elizabeth? Of course, even if she had, he probably wouldn’t have done it in public. Still, she wished she had a memory of him saying her first name, whispering it in her ear as he stroked her skin.

  She shuddered again, and she felt shy, looking at him.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Something I can do for you?”

  “Oh,” she said. “I, um, I just, I suppose I wondered if we could… talk.” Now, face to face with him, she felt frightfully silly running all over the ship looking for him. She didn’t know what she had expected. That they would be in each other’s presence and it would somehow be as it had been the night before? That they would be connected, one flesh? She realized that was ridiculous. There was no reason that things should feel different now, not unless they were to do it again.

  He surveyed the bags of grain. “I don’t think so. I’m rather busy today.” He sounded distracted.

  “Oh,” she said again. Of course he was busy. He was the captain of the ship. What was she thinking, bothering him with this business, which was really no business at all? She wasn’t even sure why she’d come to see him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know…” She blushed and backed out of the room, feeling mortified.

  She rushed back to her room. This was silly. She’d see him tonight at dinner, anyway. They could speak then of whatever it was she wanted to speak of, and she didn’t even know what that was. She had only thought that he would be glad to see her, that was all.

  She bit down on her lip, and she felt like crying, which was stupid, because there was no reason to be sad. He was busy with the ship. That was all.

  * * *

  Darcy watched her go, the guilt rising up like bile in his throat. He clenched his hands into fists.

  “Something wrong, Cap’n?” asked Mackie.

  “You bring her rags, yes? If she asks you for them? For her bleeding?”

  Mackie curled his lip. “So, you are tupping her, then.”

  Darcy shook his head. “You’ll tell me if she asks for them again.” He wasn’t sure if there was time before they arrived in India, because they were getting quite close, but maybe she would bleed, and maybe he wouldn’t have anything to worry about. Maybe he’d escape out of this nightmare unscathed, although God knew he didn’t deserve it.

  “All those grand speeches you made,” said Mackie, “about how men could control their urges, because we weren’t animals. Really, you just wanted to keep us lot away from her, then, so that you could have her all to yourself.”

  Darcy didn’t look at Mackie. “My count is seventeen for this area. You?”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s the kind of thing that men like you do, but I had thought better of you, I must say, Cap’n. I suppose it’s the whole reason you brought her on board in the first place.”

  “How many do you count?” Darcy spoke slowly and evenly.

  “I told you to kill her, but you wouldn’t, and now we all know why. If you think the men aren’t going to find out, then you’re blind and stupid, because they will know, and they’ll be angry about what happened to Brown and the others.”

  Darcy rounded on him. “You’re going to wag your tongue, I suppose?”

  Mackie shrugged. “Maybe not. Maybe we can negotiate a higher cut for me of the next sale of opium we make.”

  Darcy shut his eyes. “I need that money.”

  “Do you? Do you really? Why’s she always calling you Mr. Darcy, hmm? Who are you?”

  Darcy chuckled under his breath. “I wish I’d never brought that chit on board. She’s going to be the ruin of me.”

  “That’s what I said. I said you should’ve killed her.”

  Darcy put his finger in the other man’s face. “Stop talking about killing her, do you understand me?”

  Mackie got a different look in his eyes. “Oh ho. So, it’s like that, is it?”

  Darcy sighed heavily.

  “You’re sweet on her.”

  “I am nothing of the kind. I feel responsible for having put her in a bad place. None of this is her fault, it’s all mine, and I wish that I’d acted differently.” He dragged a hand over his face. “I do believe what I said about
men not being animals, about being able to control ourselves. I just had a moment of weakness…”

  Mackie laughed. “You’re wrong about it, though, Cap’n. Men aren’t meant to never touch a woman. I know you never take any company when we’re in port. That’s why you couldn’t resist. You put it off too long, it builds up in you.”

  “Thank you, but if I want your advice, Mackie—”

  “What I want is a cut,” said Mackie.

  “Yes, yes, you’ve got it,” said Darcy. “But the rags. You’ll tell me if she asks.”

  “You know, if you’re really worried, I could punch her in the stomach pretty hard. I’ve been known to dislodge unwanted babes before.”

  “No.” Darcy glared at him.

  “She might welcome it,” said Mackie. “The last two times I done it, it was at the request of the woman I took my fists to.”

  “Just tell me about the rags,” he said. “And bring her dinner tonight. Tell her that I won’t be dining with her anymore.”

  “Now why’s that, Cap’n?” said Mackie. “You seem to have got her willingly, which is more than makes any kind of sense. She’ll be off the ship soon enough. I should think you would take your pleasure while you could.”

  “No.” Darcy shook his head. “If she is lonely, tell her she can eat with the men.” He pointed. “Now, to the tea? What is your count?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “But why?” Elizabeth said, staring at the tray that Mackie had brought her. “Did he say why he didn’t want to dine with me?”

  Mackie sighed. “No, miss.”

  She turned away, feeling her stomach twist. “And he truly said he would not dine with me at all? Not for the rest of the trip?”

  “I’m sorry, miss.”

  She turned around, shaking her head, forcing herself to laugh. “No, it’s no matter. I don’t care, truly. It’s only that I was used to having someone to speak to at dinner.” Her voice was shaking, and she sounded near tears, but she didn’t know how to get that under control.

  “He did say that if you were lonely, you could begin to take meals with the men,” said Mackie. “But I imagine you’ll want to be alone tonight.” He gave her a look of sympathy.

  “I’m fine,” she said, pasting a smile on her face.

  “As you say, miss.” Mackie backed out of the room, leaving the tray behind.

  She waited until he closed the door, and then she sank down to the ground. What had she done to displease him?

  She must have been very terrible at what they had done together. He must be frightened that she would want to do it again, and he didn’t want anything to do with her.

  But he had whispered to her that she felt like heaven. A man didn’t say that if he wasn’t enjoying himself.

  She covered her face, and then she did start to sob.

  All that time in England, trying to find a husband, she had never once allowed herself to wallow in self-pity. She sometimes wondered if something might be wrong with her, but she made herself evaluate herself as objectively as she could, and she couldn’t find anything wrong. She knew that women who were poorer and uglier than she made matches all the time. So, she had told herself that it was simply bad luck, that she must keep on.

  She knew that if she began to think that there was something wrong with her, she would become bitter. The bitterness would become a fault, and it would drive men away all on its own.

  She had fought so hard to keep away that bitterness.

  But now…

  She had to face the truth. There was something wrong with her. She didn’t know what it was, and she had no idea how to fix it, if she even could fix it, but it was obviously there. That was the only reason she could think of that Fitzwilliam—no, Mr. Darcy—would reject her in this way. He didn’t want anything to do with her now, and it was because she was flawed.

  Or maybe she hadn’t been flawed before, but she was flawed now.

  She had read Pamela, after all. She was not so innocent as to understand nothing. Surrendering her virtue was ill-advised because it would cause a man to lose respect for her. Once she had given it, he would not be interested anymore. Now that she had allowed him to couple with her in that way, he had no more reason to associate with her. If she had been like Pamela, holding out against his advances—

  Oh, dear Lord. He had not made any advances. She had flung herself at him.

  She choked on a sob.

  She had been in the process of falling in love with him. Maybe she already had.

  And he had tossed her aside without a thought.

  She was so, so stupid.

  She hugged her knees to her chest. She cried.

  * * *

  At first, she felt too hurt to possibly take her meals anywhere but in her room. She didn’t even leave her room for a whole day. But then Patrick Horn and a few of the other men came looking for her, wanting to know what happened next in Gulliver’s Travels. She couldn’t leave them hanging, so she said she would read a bit after dinner that night. And then she went to the men’s mess to eat with them.

  They asked why she wasn’t eating with the captain anymore.

  She said she was sick of his company and preferred theirs, and they liked that.

  Reading to them gave her joy. She felt as if she was doing something good for them.

  She read more and more to them as the weeks wore on. She also spent time with Patrick, teaching him letters and words. He wanted to be able to read to the men after she left the ship.

  It was only about three more weeks that she spent, but it felt like a lifetime.

  Sometimes, she caught sight of Darcy, and a tight, painful band wrapped around her ribcage. She couldn’t breathe. It hurt so much. She wished he cared about her the way she cared about him. She wished she could take back—

  But that wasn’t true. She was glad of what had happened between them. She wouldn’t take that night back for anything, actually. She would cherish it always as a wonderful experience, so sweet and perfect and good.

  Still, it hurt that he rejected her, and she wished she could know what exactly it was that had caused it. Was it because he had lost respect for her when she became so wanton? Or was it because of some other fault that she didn’t know about?

  She didn’t speak to him, though.

  She didn’t speak to him until the night before they would arrive in India. She knew they were close to their destination, because the men kept her abreast. They showed her charts and pointed to stars in the sky and tried to explain to her their navigation. She didn’t understand it all, but she was glad of the knowledge and glad that the journey would be over.

  This had been her adventure, and it had ended sadly, but that was somewhat of a good thing, because if it had been blissful all the way up until the end, she wouldn’t have wanted to leave.

  She read to the men at dinner that night, and they were upset because she would not be there tomorrow.

  “You really think we’ll arrive on the morrow?” she’d asked them.

  “We’re sure of it,” said one of the men.

  “Who will read to us?” said another. “We’re only halfway through Gulliver’s Travels.”

  “Patrick will,” she told them.

  “We don’t want Horn, we want you,” said one of them.

  “Hey,” said Patrick. “I’m doing all right at it, I am. I’ll only get better with practice.”

  They begged her for another chapter, and she couldn’t help but oblige them. It was quite late before she wandered down into the ship towards her bedroom.

  When she arrived in the hallway, the door to Darcy’s quarters were open.

  She saw him in there, seated at his table, the remnants of his supper still out.

  He looked up and saw her too. “Miss Bennet.” He beckoned. “I wonder if I might have a word.”

  Now he wanted to speak to her? “And if I say no?”

  He nodded slowly, and then spoke to the table, his face downcast. “I just wanted to
apologize, I suppose.”

  She hovered in the doorway. “Apologize for what?”

  He still didn’t look at her. “For everything. For all of the bad things that have happened since I appeared in your life.”

  She smiled sadly. “Not all of them were bad.”

  He raised his gaze.

  It was her turn to look elsewhere. She picked a point on the wall above his head. “They tell me that we’ll arrive in Bombay tomorrow.”

  “Yes, it seems so.” He was getting up from the table and coming towards her.

  “Well,” she said, backing up, “it has been a good journey, Captain. I bid you farewell, I suppose.”

  He caught her by the arm. “Wait.”

  Now, she did look him straight in the face. “What?”

  “Come in and sit down for a minute,” he said. “Let me talk to you.”

  “I wanted to talk to you weeks ago,” she said. “You weren’t interested then.” But when she thought of refusing him, it made something ache inside her. So she stepped inside the room.

  He shut the door behind her.

  They were close.

  He reached out with one hand, put his palm against her cheek.

  She let him touch her, gazing into his eyes, feeling confused and like she might cry. Why was he being tender now? And why was she feeling the tethers that had been between them before get stronger when she had thought them broken?

  “I have used you badly,” he whispered. “But it will be all right. I know that you have begun to bleed. Mackie said that you—”

  She pulled away, blushing. “I don’t want to speak to you of that.” It was bad enough that there were no other women on board and she had to talk to Mackie about it. He was the one who emptied her chamberpot, though, so he was the one who would see anyway.

  “It’s a good thing,” he said. “You are not with child.”

  She was speechless. Such a thing had not even occurred to her. Darcy knew her body better than she knew her own. She was positively idiotic.

  “I was worried,” he said. “I didn’t think I could bear it if…” He turned away, sucking in an audible breath. “You asked about why I duelled Mr. Wickham all those years ago?”