As soon as Darcy and Elizabeth had disappeared. Charles crossed his arms and spoke in a tone of insufferable patience. "Well?"
"There is no need to bother with that. You know what I have to say. I want you to leave Elizabeth alone. She is my friend and I do not want her to be hurt for your amusement."
"My dearest Eleanor, I have no intention of hurting her. She is a lovely girl. Although you may not believe it, I enjoy talking to her."
She stared at him with wordless fury for a minute. "You are truly despicable. I am ashamed to be your sister, not that I suppose it means anything to you. All you care about are your so-called friends. I thought you had learned something from what happened to Mary Lynley, but you just do not care, do you?"
"There is no need for dramatics. I did not force Mary Lynley to do anything she did not wish to do, and I am sure she would say the same."
"That is very easy to say, is it not, when you know full well she will never say anything again!"
He gave a deep sigh. "She made the choice to leave London. It is hardly the end of the world."
She marched over to him until she stood just inches away. "You really do not know, do you? You never even bothered to ask what happened to her."
"Very well, I never asked, but I can see that you wish to tell me, so let us get this over with. I have better things to do than to be lectured by my little sister about matters which she does not understand."
Eleanor took a deep breath, then spoke slowly and clearly. "Mary was taken from London last spring, and two months later she took her own life." He grew suddenly pale and still. "I do not believe you. She would not have done such a thing."
"Feel free to make your own inquiries, and you will discover the truth. What did you expect her to do when she found herself abandoned by you and then cast off by her family when the evidence of what you did could no longer be hidden? You stole her future and then her life, all for a few minutes of pleasure. I hope it was worth it to you." She spat out the last words, then shook her head slowly. "But you really do not care. Well, stay away from Lizzy. She deserves better than to become your discarded toy." Her voice was shaking by her last words, and she ran off without looking at him.
Her brother watched after her, his lips tightly pinched.
"So, Mr. Darcy, you seem to have decided that I needed to be rescued," said Elizabeth as they left Carlisle and Lady Eleanor alone in the ruined chapel.
Darcy had not yet mastered his fury at Carlisle, making it that much more difficult to answer Elizabeth with patience, especially when she had chosen to disregard his warnings. "In my opinion, you did, and Lady Eleanor appears to have agreed with me."
Her nostrils flared. "Did it never occur to you that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself?"
His temper snapped. "Did it never occur to you that he is stronger than you are? He is not one of your tame fellows from Meryton. Perhaps he could not persuade you to reckless behavior, but your refusal would not stop him from taking what he wanted."
"There were more than enough people who would have heard had I called for help." Her face was white.
"Being within hailing distance of others is of very little use when his hand is clamped over your mouth, and merely being seen in that position by anyone coming to your aid would be enough to ruin you. Do not think Carlisle is above taking advantage of that fact." Damn it, he knew better than to say things like this to any woman, much less Elizabeth, but he seemed unable to stop the words from pouring forth.
The stubborn set of her jaw showed that she still did not believe him. "I have no desire to hear another word from you on this subject." She began walking faster.
His longer legs kept up with her easily as he burned with helpless fury. How could she be such a fool? No one could be that naive. He had seen her take risks before - long walks alone through the countryside, showing no hesitation in being alone in a gentleman's company - but what he had taken as boldness now seemed more like foolhardiness. Almost as foolish as a woman with no prospects turning down a proposal from one of the most eligible men in England.
The passageway branched ahead, and he indicated the pathway to the right. That was how he and Lady Eleanor had come, was it not? His sense of direction was excellent, and it was odd that he would even have to consider the choice for a moment. Today, however, that sense of direction failed him since, after turning a final corner, they found themselves in a doorway facing out onto the riverbank. "My apologies; I must have taken the wrong turn," said Darcy.
"It is easy to do. Shall we try again?" Her voice was clipped.
"Of course. I must have missed something." He glanced up at the sun to regain his orientation. Yes, that was it, he had lost track of the direction.
As they re-entered the ruin, Elizabeth looked as if she would like to be anywhere but by his side. Small wonder, given how he had spoken to her! What had happened to him? He prided himself on control of his temper, but even the slightest glimpse of Elizabeth in Carlisle's company set his blood boiling. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he could hear Carlisle's drawling voice in his mind, detailing with great specificity his plans for Elizabeth's seduction. And since Elizabeth did not seem to take his warnings seriously, what could he do? Carlisle would never back down on his wager, and Darcy could hardly challenge him to a duel for making a bet. Elizabeth would certainly not thank him for making his interest in her known. No, his only choice was to wait until it was too late, no matter how agonizing it might be.
In the meantime, all he was accomplishing was to drive Elizabeth further away from him. She still had her arms wrapped around her as if to protect herself. Perhaps he should apologize to her, no matter how much against the grain it went. After all, he had been attempting to protect her! But if he did not, she would consider it as one more example of his ungentlemanly conduct. He cleared his throat. "Miss Bennet, I hope you will permit me to apologize for the intemperate nature of my words earlier. Since I have seen the unfortunate results of Lord Charles's predilection for making mischief... well, I will say no more on that subject except that I would have responded in much the same manner if I had found him with my sister."
Elizabeth's shoulders seemed to relax, although she still did not look at him. "Would your sister be more temperate in her response to you?"
He struggled to find an answer that would not seem a criticism of Elizabeth's response. "Georgiana looks up to me more as a father than a brother," he said finally. "In truth, the situation would not have arisen, since I would not have permitted her to remain at the house party given Lord Charles's presence."
She shot him a look out of the corner of her eyes. "It is unfortunate for you, then, that I am not so tractable."
Under the circumstances, it was more than unfortunate; it was a potential disaster, but saying so would not accomplish anything. "You have livelier spirits than Georgiana."
Fortunately for Darcy's sanity, they encountered Paxton just a few minutes later. After one look at Darcy's stormy face and Elizabeth's flushed one. Paxton fell into step beside Elizabeth and began calmly pointing out features of the ruins to her. She seemed grateful for the safe direction of conversation.
"You seem very knowledgeable about the abbey." she said.
Paxton inclined his head. "It has long been an interest of mine. Eleanor and I played hide-and-seek here when we were children. The sense of antiquity must have affected me, for I found myself studying the history of the dissolution of the monasteries at Cambridge. When I was home. I would come to draw the ruins, though perhaps I should not admit to that. I did not have an invitation." He smiled confidingly.
"It sounds unobjectionable," said Elizabeth. "But if you came down the lane, it must have been obvious in any case."
He shook his head. "When we were children, Eleanor's parents did not want her to spend time with me, so I was accustomed to using hidden ways.
My lands are on the other side of the river, and there was a rock fall years ago that left large bou
lders in the river. We called them our stepping-stones when we were young, though even then they were more treacherous than real stepping-stones. More than once I slipped and had a soaking."
"And once," came Eleanor's voice from behind them, "he hit his head on one of the rocks, and I had to drag him to the shore and bind his wounds. My nurse was scandalized when I came home soaked to the skin and with my petticoat tom to rags."
"How did you explain that?" asked Elizabeth with a laugh.
Eleanor shrugged. "I told her my brothers had thrown me in the river because I was following them. It sounded enough like something they would do that she accepted it."
"They must have denied it, though," Elizabeth said as they stepped out into the main clearing.
"I do not recall. Most likely she never thought to ask them since no one would have punished them for it anyway. They were incorrigible little savages."
As far as Darcy was concerned, at least one of them still was an incorrigible savage, now full-grown and more dangerous. He still did not trust himself enough to speak to Elizabeth. How could he be civil to her when she had ignored his warning and put herself in danger? And now she was angry with him for his interference, even though Lady Eleanor had been the one to confront Carlisle. Perhaps Elizabeth thought he had convinced her friend to intervene.
This entire pointless endeavor was making his head ache. How had it turned from a matter of providing an entree for Paxton into one where his primary goal was to protect Elizabeth, preferably without murdering Carlisle? Elizabeth did not even wish to be protected, any more than she wished him to love her. Around and around, everywhere he looked, love and its evil twin, lust, were causing heartache rather than happiness. It was all swirling together into a mass of fractured color. He closed his eyes against the burning glare.
Paxton's voice seemed to boom in his ear. "Darcy! I say, Darcy, are you ill?"
Ill? Everything was ill. The world was ill. "Just the sun," he somehow managed to say despite the invisible knives driven into his skull.
"One of your megrims?"
Darcy moved his throbbing head slightly in agreement. It felt like a major accomplishment. "Should I take you home?"
"There is no need." Even the thought of mounting a horse made his stomach chum.
Elizabeth's melodious voice flowed past him, a channel of calm in the storm. "My sister and my father have spells like this." Her features swam before him, her fine dark eyes looking at him with concern. Speaking quietly, she said, "Perhaps we should go back into the ruins where it is dark and quiet. Would that help?"
He thought he thanked her, but perhaps it was only in his mind. She took him gently by the arm and led him into a blessedly dark and cool passageway.
"Would you like to sit?" Elizabeth pointed to a recessed bench.
He lowered himself onto it, then carefully leaned back and closed his eyes. Resting his head against the wall, he felt the soothing chill held by the rough sandstone blocks even on a summer's day. It helped to diminish the throbbing in his head to a more bearable level.
"Is there anything I can bring you for your present relief, sir? Some wine, perhaps?" Her voice echoed in the close space, even though she spoke softly.
Darcy had almost forgotten Elizabeth's presence. Embarrassed, he opened his eyes. Between the darkness and the blurring of his vision, he could not see her clearly, but it did not matter. He had memorized her appearance long ago. "I thank you, no. Pray return to the others and accept my gratitude for your assistance." This was not how he wished to appear to her - weak and in pain.
Her skirts rustled as she sat on the other end of the bench. "I am glad to assist. Jane and my father both suffer terribly when the megrim is upon them."
"You do not have them?"
"No, fortunately I have been spared that."
"They often run in families. My sister has had them since she was a child." Speaking was hard work, but the sound of her voice was soothing, and for once she did not sound angry with him.
"I am sorry to hear it, though it must be some relief to her to have a brother who understands and does not believe it to be merely a nervous temperament."
"Perhaps." It was a painful point. His father had often told him to control himself rather than let the megrim get the best of him, as if he had any choice in the matter. "Mine are usually not severe enough to interfere with my activities. This is worse than most." Why was he telling her these things?
"It happens to Jane when there is a change in the weather. When she takes to her bed, my mother orders all the laundry to be brought inside since it is as good as a guarantee of rain in the offing. Perhaps for you it is the sun, not rain."
"This is unusual for me. Most often it happens in crowded rooms, when there is too much noise or too many people talking. Gatherings, balls, assemblies, and the like." He did not want to mention that anger was the other thing that often brought on an attack. He had learned to control his temper because of it, but it did not work where Elizabeth was concerned. His last bad megrim had been after their quarrel at Hunsford.
"You and my father have something in common then. That is why he rarely attends events. Even the noise in our household is often too much for him, so he stays in his library."
"I envy him that. Oftentimes my position requires me to attend events that I would prefer to avoid. I have learned to manage it, but it is not a pleasant experience."
She was silent so long that he turned to look at her, but her gaze remained fixed on her hands. Finally she said, "The first time I saw you was at an assembly in Meryton. Was that an unpleasant experience for you, then?"
He winced with the memory. "Very. I do not know how I managed to dance at all that evening. The room was spinning around me." When she did not reply again, he said, "Why do you ask?"
She hesitated. "You did not appear to be enjoying the occasion."
"I have little talent at disguising my sentiments at times like that."
"I am surprised you agreed to attend so much of the house party under the circumstances."
His mouth twisted. "Paxton is an old friend, and I would do more than that on his behalf." Megrim or not, he had the sense not to tell her that he had no choice once he discovered Carlisle's plans.
"It often helps my father if I put pressure on certain parts of his hands. The apothecary taught me to do it. It must sound impossibly forward, and I do not mean it that way, but if you would like, I could try that with you." She sounded hesitant.
"Miss Bennet, believe me. I know enough to acquit you of any forwardness toward me," he said dully. "You are the only female of my acquaintance from whom I need not fear entrapment."
"Forgive me," she said stiltedly. "No doubt you have been long desiring my absence. I will trouble you no further."
He could feel the movement of the air as she stood. The prospect of her leaving made his head throb anew. "Pray forgive me, Miss Bennet. I should not have said that. I appreciate your concern and am happy to try any remedy you suggest."
She stopped, but it was a long minute before she turned to face him. "Are you certain that is what you wish?" Her voice was flat.
"Yes." He gestured to the bench beside him. "What should I do?"
"If you will give me your hand then."
Managing somehow to restrain himself from saying that he had tried to do just that in April, he held out his hand silently. She put hers beneath it for support, then used her thumb and forefinger to press on the flesh that stretched between his thumb and his index finger, rubbing back and forth in small circles.
It could hardly be called a personal touch since they were both wearing gloves, but it was oddly soothing. If he were to close his fingers now, he would be holding her hand. How ironic that the one time Elizabeth Bennet was actually willing to touch him, he was too far gone to feel desire for her! Still, he could enjoy the pleasure of having her care for him, however briefly, and that he could watch her with no need for disguise.
Her pressure became firm
er, and to his surprise, the pain in his head began to recede. It was still there, but it was somehow more tolerable. "That does help," he said.
He could see the corners of her mouth turn up in that familiar arch smile. "You need not sound so surprised."
"Frankly, anything that can ease a megrim is little short of miraculous in my mind."
"Here, let me try your other hand." She sounded amused, as well she might. "Try closing your eyes while I do it."
He obeyed, not least because of the danger inherit in looking at her lips. He must be feeling better if he could even think of wanting to kiss her! It was a pity her concern for him would never run that far. At least they were not quarrelling. That was an improvement. He wondered if it had occurred to her that if anyone were to discover them at this moment, her position would be quite compromising. Alone with him in a dark corner, holding his hand - no, it would not look innocent, even if it was. But he liked the pressure of her fingers on his hand, so he said nothing.
Apparently her mind was working along similar lines because she said, "It may comfort you to know that Lord Charles offered to show me this room, but I insisted on remaining outside. I am not quite as foolish as you may think."
"You should not be here with me now."
"Mr. Darcy, I know enough to acquit you of any plans to force yourself on me," she said with amusement, releasing his hand. "You must be feeling somewhat better if you are worried about appearances."
"It is not only appearances I worry about. Lord Charles has boasted publicly of his plan to...his plans for you, and has wagered two hundred guineas that he can win your favors. I hope you will pardon my bluntness, but I thought you should know."
He could almost feel her withdraw into herself, and he damned himself for once again saying the wrong thing, and just as they seemed to have reached some sort of peace. "Once again I must apologize to you, Miss Bennet. I did not mean to upset you."
She shook her head silently, folding her hands tightly together. "Who is aware of this...wager?" Her voice was unusually level.
Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 9
