by Brenda Webb
With the backs of her hands, she began to wipe the tears from her face, but was unsuccessful in removing them entirely before Jane entered the room. Seeing her sister’s distress, Jane immediately ran to her. “Lizzy, please do not cry! You will feel better soon! Mr. Meacham has assured us that you will be out of bed in only a few days.”
“That is not the source of my misery.”
“Then why are you upset, dearest?”
“Promise to tell no one, as I could not abide it if the rest of our family should learn of my folly.”
“Whatever you share shall be between us, as always.”
So, Elizabeth confessed everything about her friendship with Mr. Darcy—from the moment she met him in the bookstore until the morning he brought her home on his horse. And for a long time after she finished speaking, Jane sat in stunned silence. Finally, taking her sister’s hand, Jane squeezed it, forcing a smile.
“I am pleased that you felt you could tell me of your heartache, and I apologise that I was too involved with my own concerns to see that you needed me.”
“You assume too much, dear sweet Jane. You are not to blame.”
“But, I never realised that you were gone! Papa made us go to bed very early that evening. He dressed in his greatcoat and said that he was going to fetch you and Juliet. It was the next morning before I awoke to find him bringing you into our bedroom. He explained to me what happened, though he told Mary, Kitty and Lydia only that you had gotten sick from being soaked chasing after Juliet. They do not know you were out all night.”
“You could not have known of my dilemma, as Papa was protecting me. And you knew nothing of my friendship with Mr. Darcy because I kept it secret.” She did not meet Jane’s loving gaze.
“I was aware that it was a hopeless situation—that such a man could never care for me, but I misinterpreted his kindness for interest because…” she took a ragged breath, “because, I fell in love with him the first time we met. It was my lack of prudence that has left my heart broken.”
“What will you do if you are ever in his company again? After all, Mr. Darcy is Mr. Bingley’s best friend and may very well visit him another time.”
“I will just have to avoid his company. But I swear to you that I will never allow my heart to break again. I knew it would be entirely foreign for a man of his stature to consider someone like me.” She laughed mirthlessly. “I have no dowry, no connections—nothing to recommend me.”
“That is not true! You are lovely and you have a brilliant intellect. Surely, some good man—”
“And you know what Mama says,” Elizabeth interrupted, “No man could be interested in a woman who reads too much and has an opinion on everything!”
“Mama cannot speak for every man.”
“Nevertheless, apparently she was right. He left without saying goodbye.”
~~~*~~~
Rosings
The drawing room
One week later
Lady Catherine de Bourgh looked every inch the imperious matron as she sat in her large, throne-like chair studying the two people she had summoned to Rosings. As she took the measure of the man and woman perched on settees on either side of her, she pondered why she had ever considered them capable of carrying out her plans.
Gisela, tall and regal, and beautiful beyond description with her dark blond hair and emerald green eyes, should have been the answer to her prayers. What man could resist her charms? Only the one man she had hoped to control—Fitzwilliam Darcy. And George Wickham, while a handsome rogue, had proved equally useless after he was tossed from Pemberley. Both had cost her a good deal of money in the past and presently disappointed her greatly. Nonetheless, knowing that it was too late to change her plans, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
“You can be at no loss to understand why I have summoned you.”
Gisela Darcy, her eyes flashing with ire, glanced across to George Wickham before returning her gaze to her ladyship. “I cannot account for the honour at all. I was supposed to attend a ball in London tonight. Instead, I was practically kidnapped by your lackey here. What gives you the right to order me to Rosings without my consent?”
“Money gives me the right, my dear! If you will remember, I gave you five thousand pounds upon your marriage to my nephew to insure that you voted with me in regards to our joint ventures and to try to influence him to see my point of view. Now, I learn from my solicitor that you did not have the decency to sign the latest papers, seconding my decisions on the future monies to be spent. You are well aware that my nephew thwarts my every move, and without your vote, I am stymied! At least your father and George Darcy had sense enough to allow me to control the funds without their interference. It is only after both of them died that I have had to struggle—first with my nephew and now with you.”
“My father was your pawn, and George Darcy was too interested in his next affair to worry about his finances! Neither of them cared enough to disagree with you, whereas I have my own opinions. Besides, I was trying to do what you ordered me to do—secure my husband’s esteem. I have held off voting, hoping that he would seek me out on the matter. I intended to use my vote to secure his approval!”
“This is not the way I intended for you to secure his approval. You were supposed to do that in his bed! I have it on good authority that Fitzwilliam is questioning the entire stock venture at this point. I relied on your marriage to keep him occupied, and if you had had a child, we would not even be speaking of this now. You would have secured your place as a Darcy!”
“Is it my fault that Mr. Wickham could not accomplish that simple task?”
George rose to his feet, “I assure you, madam, that I have left women with bastards all over England. I would point out that I have firsthand knowledge that you have been with a number of men, even while you were married to Lord Grantham, and you have never been with child. Perhaps you should look in the mirror for the problem!”
Lady Catherine stood to stop the argument. “Enough! If you were going to have a child, you would have done so by now. You are likely barren, which leads me to believe that Fitzwilliam will divorce you once he feels that Georgiana is old enough to hear the truth.” She seemed deep in thought. “I suppose I should look for someone to be his next wife!”
Gisela glared at the woman. “That is preposterous! He is so protective of his precious sister that he will never tell her. She is not capable of dealing with that kind of disclosure, as I have stressed to Fitzwilliam often enough.”
Wickham jumped into the fray. “Darcy is a pansy! I agree that he will never knowingly tell Georgiana, but I have an idea of how to control him, even should the secret be revealed.”
“Go on!” Lady Catherine commanded. “I have put enough pounds into your pockets, it is about time you used your brain!”
Wickham glared at the harridan who had begun to buy his loyalty at the tender age of fifteen in exchange for privileged information on the Darcys. If his plan worked, he would get control of a goodly portion of Darcy’s money and never have to deal with her again. “I think it is time little Miss Darcy married, and who better for her to marry than me?”
“La!” Gisela laughed. “As if Fitzwilliam Darcy would let his little sister wed a degenerate like you!”
“He married you, did he not?” Wickham sneered. “And I do not propose to ask for his sister’s hand. I propose to elope with her, after I gain her confidence. Though I have not been allowed at Pemberley since George Darcy died, she would remember me, as I used to entertain her to impress the old man. He was a dupe for all my schemes. I happen to know that at this time of year she spends weeks in Ramsgate taking art lessons with the so-called masters who congregate in that area. I can take steps to renew our friendship there.”
Lady Catherine listened intently as he expounded on his plan, continuing to study him long after he had finished. He was beginning to think she was not going to agree when she responded, “It is worth a try. But if my nephew learns of your
plans before you accomplish this elopement, God help you! In fact, he may just kill you in any event.”
“He would never kill Georgiana’s beloved husband! And, besides, I am not afraid of Darcy.”
“You should be! He is zealous in protecting my niece.”
Gisela interjected, “But she is always accompanied by your sister. It would be hard to talk to her alone.”
Lady Catherine considered her younger sister. “Yes, Audrey has been a thorn in my side since she was old enough to talk—always tattling to our father. I loathe that woman!”
Wickham brought the conversation back to his plan. “I have been very busy studying Audrey Ashcroft. I know that she leaves Georgiana alone while she takes the lessons, visiting with her friends in the area until it is time to retrieve her. And I have confidential information that the artist they have chosen this time, a Mrs. Younge, is the sole support of her mother and sister. They live very frugally, and with enough incentive, I believe I could use her for my purposes. Naturally, I would have to travel to Ramsgate and ply her with my attention, so by the time Miss Darcy visits again, I will be a well established visitor to her studio. But alas, as you ladies well know, I do not have the funds to accomplish this. You would have to provide the resources, while I provide the charm.”
“Is that not how it has always been?” Lady Catherine scowled. “Very well. You must appear every inch the gentleman.”
“I AM a gentleman, thanks to George Darcy, though the old fool forgot to provide the means for me to live as one after his death!”
Darcy’s aunt harrumphed. “What of the living he left you at Kympton? We are all aware that you refused to take orders and asked my nephew for the value of the living—three thousand pounds—and immediately gambled it away.”
“Three thousand pounds is a pittance compared to what Fitzwilliam Darcy earns in a year’s time!”
“But he is a Darcy and you are not,” Gisela reminded her nemesis.
“And if the truth be known, neither are you! You may be Mrs. Darcy, but you have none of his regard or any of the prestige associated with the name! How does it feel to walk into a soirée knowing that everyone there is aware that Fitzwilliam Darcy dropped you off at your townhouse on your wedding day, never to darken your door again?”
Gisela seethed, moving to stand within a few inches of Wickham’s face. “And how does it feel to know that he will never allow you at Pemberley ever again!”
Lady Catherine stood and moved between them. “If you continue to fight one another, I cannot control my nephew, and I WANT to control him! Now, are we agreed?” She glared at Gisela first. “You will sign the papers that I shall have my solicitor bring to your townhouse as soon as you return to London. And you,” she turned to Wickham, “will go to Ramsgate.”
Gisela and Wickham glared at each other, too angry to speak. Lady Catherine addressed Gisela. “I will have my housekeeper show you to one of the guest rooms.” Then she turned to Wickham. “You cannot be seen here. I shall have Mr. Crump show you the rear exit which leads to the stables. There is a groom’s room that is empty, and you shall have the use of it until I can arrange for the funds. The sooner we have something to hold over my nephew the better!”
With that, the harridan stomped out of the room, her cane striking the floor with every step. She shouted for her servants as soon as she gained the doorway and could be heard calling out orders as she got further away. Alone now, Gisela Darcy and George Wickham studied each other for a moment before slipping to the doorway to watch her majesty disappear down the long corridor.
“It seems she believed our ruse,” Gisela stated wryly. “She thinks we hate each other.”
“I told you she would! I have known the old shrew for a lot longer than you, and it is better that she believes we are at odds. She does not trust anyone, and I have no doubt that she would have us watched if she thought we might be conspiring.”
“But we are not conspiring against her… at least not yet.”
“No, but the time shall come when we will have to make a choice between our interests and hers. I care not for what Lady Catherine de Bourgh wants unless it benefits me.”
“Nor I! She had the gall to mention finding Fitzwilliam’s next wife!”
Wickham motioned for her to be quieter. “Pay her no mind. I shall make Georgiana Darcy fall madly in love with me, and she will be only too happy to elope. Afterwards, when Darcy makes a scene, you shall step into the fray to support her right to choose the husband that she desires. That should sway Georgiana’s good opinion towards you. Then we shall control a goodly portion of the Darcy money and influence. And who can predict when Fitzwilliam might die and leave us in charge of everything?”
“And how do I know that you will not betray me?”
“You have the backing of the Matlocks—at least they pretend to accept you in the eyes of society. Why should I alienate you? I wish to be acknowledged as a gentleman, and as Georgiana Darcy’s husband, I shall be taken more seriously with the Matlocks approval. Together we have a much better chance of success.”
Gisela seemed to contemplate that thought and then nodded. “We should withdraw and go our separate ways before she notices.”
With that, they exited the room, heading in different directions, each still distrustful of the other, as thieves and liars are wont to be.
~~~*~~~
Chapter 6
London
Darcy House
Three weeks after Hertfordshire
The wind howled and whipped the driving rain about violently as tree limbs fell intermittently on each side of the well-worn path. Airborne debris flew across William’s path, sometimes striking him and his mount. Even the lightning, relentless and frightening, seemed to target him, striking several places nearby and causing his horse to rear in protest at being urged forward.
“Steady! Steady, boy!” William soothed the frightened beast, patting the animal’s strong neck as he leaned over its head to keep the driving rain from hitting him square in the face. Just then, above the howl of the wind, came the sound of a voice—a woman’s voice.
“Fitzwilliam!”
Pulling back on the reins, his head whipped right then left in a desperate attempt to determine from which side the sound had come. Even so, after only a few seconds, he sighed in frustration. It was impossible to discern one sound from another amidst the clatter of the storm. Had he actually heard it at all?
Suddenly he heard it again over the din. “Fitzwilliam! Help me!”
Somehow he was transported to the same swollen creek where he had found Elizabeth and her pet clinging to a log, his alarm growing as he watched the water begin to flow over the top.
“Elizabeth! Hold on, sweetheart! I will save you! Do not let go!”
But unlike what had happened in reality, when Elizabeth tore her eyes from the raging water to acknowledge him, instead of the look of panic that had been there in actuality, there was a look of extreme sadness. It was obvious that she had been crying, and when she spoke, it broke his heart.
“You led me to believe that you cared!”
Immediately a great wall of water surged over the tree, washing her and the small white goat from the log and he watched helplessly as she disappeared beneath the water.
“ELIZABETH!”
William bolted upright in bed, his arms flailing and heart pounding as though it would burst from his chest. As he tried to get his bearings, the familiarity of his surroundings sunk into his consciousness, and he began to settle once more, examining the chaos about him. The counterpane was dishevelled, the sheets wadded into unrecognisable piles and most of the pillows were on the floor. Sweating profusely and in great misery, William had been completely unaware that he had rolled from one side of his large, four-poster bed to the other. His nightshirt was soaked with perspiration, so he slid out of bed and pulled it over his head. Tossing it aside, he grabbed a dry one along with his robe from the large closet. Then donning the clean garments,
he moved to sit on the settee in front of the waning fire.
Each night since his return from Netherfield, he had been transported back to that scene in his dreams—a cycle he could neither avert nor control. And with each reliving of the incident, he searched for Elizabeth anew. Tonight was no different. Taking several deep breaths to try and calm his still racing heart, he closed his eyes and whispered her name as though it was a prayer. Elizabeth.
Though they were only dreams, the very real likelihood that she had been hurt by his actions caused a familiar dull ache to begin deep inside—an ache that occurred with the mere thought of her. Now fully awake, William searched for his slippers and finding them headed towards his study for a full bottle of brandy. In the days since his return from Meryton, he had come to depend on the amber liquor for some relief from the night terrors and a few hours rest.
~~~*~~~
Darcy House
Three Days Later
Upon receiving a note from Mrs. Barnes, William’s housekeeper, Richard Fitzwilliam set out for Darcy House almost immediately after his arrival in London. It was with a great deal of unease that he made this call, because her missive indicated that William was not in an amiable mood.
Blast! Richard mused wryly. Darcy has not been in a good mood since he married that wretched woman two years ago.
Nevertheless, according to the long time servant, his cousin’s usual propensity to withdraw from society had apparently changed into living for the last few days in his study, taking his meals on a tray—what little he ate—as well as sleeping on the sofa. In fact, according to both Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, their master’s attitude had deteriorated so dramatically with his return from Hertfordshire three weeks previously that they were at a loss to know what they should do. And with Miss Darcy’s imminent return to London, they were very worried that he would remain in his present state. Thus, when they learned that Richard had returned to London, they sent word straightaway.
