by Wells, Linda
Bingley regarded her dreamy countenance with fascination. “How could you become so obsessed with a man who not once gave you the slightest hint of encouragement? What exactly did you expect to happen at Pemberley?”
Caroline startled. “I was sure that if I just had the time he would see how perfect I was for him, not that little country chit! What does she know of society?” Her eyes flashed and Bingley glared at her.
“And then what? He is married. That is forever! What did you hope for, to see him chase after you? To what end? Did you think that he would abandon his supposedly incompetent wife? Surely you did not hope to be his mistress and be kept in Town for when he visited?” He stared at her incredulously. “You did! Good Lord! You would accept selling yourself for the chance to be in his society? Have you not brought enough shame on our name?”
“I wished no such thing.” She sniffed. “Mistress. I am no refugee from France.”
“What did you hope for, then?”
She met his eye and said clearly, “I knew that all was lost after he married, but if he had been with me and realized his error, he could have recommended me to one of his equals.” Bingley’s mouth dropped open. “Of course this was before I thought I would be married to Mr. Wickham. After we met, I thought that Mr. Darcy would have seen me in Pemberley, seen how perfectly I belonged in his circle, and he would have welcomed the both of us. This is what I hope for still …”
“Darcy finds nothing about you appealing, Caroline! You will never be invited to Pemberley! Stop this foolishness now! And do not ever speak of Mrs. Darcy without respect again!”
“What are your feelings for her?” Caroline accused. “I think that you are in love with her!”
“Caroline, stop trying to change the subject. We are discussing your future, while you still have one.” He sighed then continued. “Now, Mr. Gardiner has arranged for you to meet two gentlemen at a dinner next week. They are both very successful and wealthy tradesmen. Either of them could give you a comfortable home and life. Your other choice is to travel north to remain with our relatives until the Hursts return for the little Season, or return in the spring to try again. If you begin a courtship with one of the men, I will remain in town in this house for as long as is necessary before you wed, but I will be going to Pemberley in October. Without you. So your decision must be made before then.”
Caroline eyed him in silence. “You have changed.”
“How so?”
“I cannot …” Manipulate you. “You have confidence.”
“I have watched my friend transform and through him I am now surrounded by people who give me direction. Now, what is it going to be? Dinner with the Gardiner’s or shall I begin arranging our travel?”
She conceded unhappily. “I will meet these men, and then I will decide.”
“That is fair.” Bingley rose to his feet. “I will inform Mr. Gardiner.”
She watched him leave the room, then opened up a locket containing a likeness of her mother. “I had such hopes and now I will be no better than you.”
“I HAVE NOT BEEN HERE IN SO LONG.” Evangeline smiled and took in the sights and sounds as she and Fitzwilliam strolled the paths of Vauxhall. “When my brother was courting Ellen and after they married, we would come to enjoy the summer evenings. It was a wonderful time.”
Fitzwilliam tilted his head and smiled to see her happiness in the memory. “And what did you enjoy the most?”
“Oh, so many things!” She laughed. “I am being silly, I feel like a little girl, not a grown woman.”
“I like seeing you silly.” He grinned. “Did you dream of being a tightrope walker? Or did you want to be one of the ladies dancing around the pavilion?”
“I certainly will not tell you.” Fitzwilliam chuckled and lifted her hand from his arm for a kiss. “Colonel!”
“Oh come now, you are quite old enough to receive a kiss on your hand.” He shook his head. “You are quite old enough to receive a kiss to your lips, as well.” Their eyes met for a long moment, and Fitzwilliam steered them off of the crowded path to a quiet darkened one. He came to a stop, then cupping her face with his hands he leaned down to gently brush their mouths. Feeling her hands clutch his coat, his stroking lips deepened the kiss, finishing at last with the briefest touch of their tongues. Fitzwilliam swallowed and drew her into his arms. “Eva.”
“What have I done?” She whispered, but did not pull away; she instead clung to his solid form and closed her eyes.
“You have assured me at last that all I have been feeling does not exist only in my head.” Fitzwilliam kissed her hair and ignored the whistle of a man leading his lady down the dark path. “Please tell me at last that you care for me.”
“Colonel …”
“Richard.”
“I … I do care for you.” Fitzwilliam began to rejoice but stopped when she put her hand to his cheek. “But please do not ask for more.”
“Why not?” He stepped back and stared at her. “Surely you do not wish to live your life alone?”
“I am not alone; I have Jeffrey and the girls. I will return to Meadowbrook with him tomorrow.”
“Eva, I understand your attachment to your brother and his children, but Harwick wishes to marry again; surely you do not mean to remain at his side then? His wife will not want you there.”
“I know, and … I intend to come to London when he does remarry. I have the townhouse.”
“So why not go to visit the girls and then come back here? Eva, your acceptance of my kiss tonight tells me that your feelings are just as deep as mine!”
“I am hesitant to give up my independence.” She said clearly.
“You are afraid of being caught with another dissolute husband!” Fitzwilliam cried and let go. “How can you possibly compare me to Carter?” He paced off for several yards and turned to see her standing alone. “I am hardly perfect but I assure you, my dear, I am as much a gentleman as your brother is.”
“I did not call you a cad!” She exclaimed, then glared at another couple who had passed hurriedly by. “This is not the place for this conversation.”
“Where do you suggest we have it? Shall I ride alongside your carriage and shout to the windows as you escape my clutches and run away?”
“I am not running away! I have a duty to my family.”
“And what of your family, Eva? Do you want one of your own? Or do you wish to spend your life forever the widow, and never enjoy your dreams? You must have been full of them the day that you wed.”
“I do not wish to lose control again!” She cried. “I … I never wish to …” Her voice was silenced when Fitzwilliam strode quickly to her side and wrapped her tightly in his arms.
“You can trust me, you can.” He whispered fiercely. “Think about it, please. Go to your brother’s home, see his children, decide if you would like a family of your own. We will meet at Pemberley in eight weeks. I pray that you will know your mind then.”
“I can make no promises, Richard.”
“I have not asked you any question yet.” He kissed her forehead and felt her tremble. “I understand more than I can say, truly, but you can trust me. I have not seen another woman since meeting you.”
“Well we are not courting; you are at perfect liberty to see …”
He took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “You are not listening. I have not seen another woman, I have not noticed, been attracted to, desired any other woman but you.”
“Oh.”
“You will write to me.”
“It is not proper …”
“Damn it, Eva! You are no maiden, and I am no … young dandy. We are both old enough to exchange letters. Who is to know or care? Will your brother take you to task? Of course not. And I live in a barracks with a group of boys. If you will not give me your hand, then give me your pen.”
Evangeline blinked back the tears that his impassioned speech brought to her eyes. “You have not asked for my hand.”
; “If I thought you would give it to me I would be on my knee right now.” He blinked hard and kissed her. “Please write to me.”
“I will.” They stood embraced in the pitch dark, listening to the crowd passing by on the brightly lit path above them. Suddenly the boom of fireworks filled the air and the night sky was ablaze with light. Fitzwilliam took her hand and placed it on his arm. She looked up to see him try to smile.
“Come let us enjoy our last evening.”
“Not our last, Richard.” He nodded and they moved to rejoin the crowd.
16 AUGUST 1809
Well I have learned my lesson today. When Elizabeth tells me that her birthday, or I assume any other significant date, is unimportant and that it should be acknowledged with no more than a smile, I should ignore her. Although I never had any intention of not celebrating it joyfully, I decided to take her at her word, and began the day with a kiss, a quick congratulations to her achieving the healthy age of eighteen, and a wave goodbye. The crestfallen expression on her face as I exited our chambers haunted me all morning as Uncle and Stephen joined me to inspect the new cider mill we are building on the grounds. I wanted to run back and reassure her that I had magnificent plans for her that evening, but if I had, she would not be surprised, and I so wanted to surprise her. So cruelly, I left her alone. I suffered for it, and she, I discovered, has quite a talent for spite.
We returned home to a meal with a roomful of silent, cold, women. I have never felt so intimidated in my life. Any and all attempts at conversation were met with terse replies. I tried to kiss her and I was greeted with lips that neither welcomed nor rebuffed. They were simply tightly closed pieces of flesh, and her eyes looked at me with no emotion at all. It was every nightmare come to life to be so unwanted and again, my resolve was tested. I admit to feeling angry, after all, she was the one who said not to do anything for her, she was the one who said that her birthday had traditionally been a day where Jane would give her a handkerchief, her father might give her a book, her younger sisters might give her a bouquet and her mother would forget. But that is when it struck me. Only Jane could be counted on to remember her birthday before, to remember anything about her, and now she has me, and I devastated her. When she said that she wanted no recognition, she was hoping that she would not have to ask for it, that I would act on my own. It was clear as day that this is not simply a request for her birthday, but one for every day. And I, dense fool that I am, thought I was being playful by keeping her guessing.
Apparently I am not alone in this malady of thoughtlessness, since my uncle and cousin struggled to understand the workings of our ladies’ minds as well. All we knew was that we were in this boat together now, although I cannot help but suspect that my uncle was not as uninformed as I and let me founder to teach me a lesson. At last I cornered my sister and demanded an explanation. This girl has learned a thing or two since going to Matlock House. I am not sure yet which lady she is emulating, but for a while I swore I was speaking to Aunt Catherine. At last she relented and intimated that Elizabeth was hurt.
I could keep my secret no longer once having the positive assurance from my sister of my error. I immediately found my wife, who was writing rapidly in her journal, lifted her to her feet and kissed her as soundly as a man in search of forgiveness can, then taking her by the hand, led her outside, down the garden path, past the lake, and to our secret glade, and showed her what I had done. She burst into tears, and we loved. We must have sounded ridiculous to the birds and the deer, apologizing and kissing while wrestling with our clothes, and never did succeed in removing them completely before succumbing to our need to make amends. When the shadows became long I roused her from our hideaway, and we returned home. Nobody mentioned the grass clinging to our clothes, and we changed to enjoy the dinner of her favourites I had ordered. I gave her my other gifts, and Georgiana played so that we could dance. The ladies were all speaking to us gentlemen once again. And then when the sun set, I led the way outside to watch the fireworks I had purchased exploding over the lake. My dear love is still afraid of the noise, and she clung to me tightly while we watched. I confess I hoped she would. She whispered that it was a day she would never forget. Neither will I.
“Do you know how difficult it is to read when you are being nibbled?” Elizabeth closed her eyes as Darcy stood behind her and caressed her throat with his lips down to her shoulders and back up to her ear.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” He whispered and kissed his way back down to her shoulder.
“Spiteful?” She said softly and moved her head away and sighed as his hair brushed her cheek. “I did not take revenge.”
“Yes you did.” He nipped her skin, then immediately bathed the spot with his tongue when she protested.
“How?”
“You would not kiss me; you denied me your smile and laugh. You hid yourself from me.”
“That was petulance, not spite.”
“Children are petulant; you my love are a woman.” His hands drifted up her torso to caress and fondle her breasts through her night dress. “A very enticing woman.” Darcy’s hands moved down to her hips and pressing himself against her back, nipped her again. She gasped and fell back against his chest. “I have one more gift for you.” Darcy nudged her cheek with his nose and she turned her head to receive his kiss and smiled to see the twinkle in his eyes. “The way I shall begin your birthday from this day on.”
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE IN HERE?” Lady Catherine’s shrill voice demanded as she toured a renovated sitting room.
“We have replaced the rather hideous paper that adorned the walls with something far more palatable.” Mrs. de Bourgh looked around at the softly patterned Chinese print. “The room no longer resembles the setting for a throne from some medieval castle.” She glanced around. “The armour has been sold.”
“Sold!” Lady Catherine huffed. “How dare you …”
“Sister, it is not I who suggested it, but your daughter. It was quite the sensible plan to finance the project. Unless you envision an army invading from the sea, I sincerely doubt the usefulness for such decoration. My son assures me that the animals and foils strewn around the master’s study and library provide quite enough masculinity for Rosings.” Her lips twitched and her eyes narrowed. “Surely your daughter’s opinion must be correct? She is the mistress.”
“Mistress.” Lady Catherine sniffed. “With no husband.”
“Yes, but you see, in her mind she has a husband.” Mrs. de Bourgh fixed her with a cold glare. “Thanks to your games. Sister.”
“I wish that you would refrain from calling me that. I am Lady Catherine de Bourgh!” They moved on to view a newly-redecorated bedchamber. Lady Catherine eyed the bright room unhappily.
“You are still my sister.” Mrs. de Bourgh smirked as she watched her reaction. “And I am very fond of the connection.”
“Because you are taking advantage! How you can think of taking up residence here … sitting and waiting for my daughter to die! She is growing healthier by the day!”
“Yes, and no thanks to your attention.” Mrs. de Bourgh opened the door to a closet. “We removed the shelves in here. They made no sense whatsoever.” She turned to encounter a glare. “Would you prefer to see your daughter wasting away again?”
“I would prefer to see her married and you gone!”
“She could marry my son.”
“That is not what I mean!”
“Then I am afraid that I do not understand.” Mrs. de Bourgh smiled. “Who would you prefer? It does not matter; you were always destined for the dower’s house. You are a fortunate woman to have such a home provided for you when your husband died. Some ladies have very little and are left to scratch out a living or hope for the kindness of their kin.” She fixed a fiery gaze on Lady Catherine. “I certainly appreciate the plight of a widow cast from her home. And I appreciate the benevolence of family. Perhaps it is time that you learn humility. Sister.”
24 AUGUST 1809
> Grosvenor Street
London
Dear Darcy,
Darcy looked up from deciphering the much-splotched letter across his desk to where Elizabeth sat, failing completely from holding back her laughter while reading hers. “What does your aunt have to say?” He smiled to see her eyes dancing and bright with tears of amusement.
“Oh Fitzwilliam! I can only imagine what Mr. Bingley had to say about this dinner he attended with his sister!”
Darcy sighed and looked at the sheets. “Me as well.” Their eyes met and he smiled, placing the letter in her outstretched hand. “I made out some of it; he seems to think it was a magnificent success, and that she will be delighted to walk down the aisle with one of these fine gentlemen. I hope that it is not his eternal optimism clouding his perception. He says that she was admired by men and women alike.”
“And Aunt said that the disdainful smirk on her lips gave every person in the room the impression that she felt none of them had bathed in months.” She met his raised brows and handed him her letter.
“How can she possibly feel herself to be above that company?” Darcy read with interest. “She actually sought to lecture these women on their choice of clothing and deportment?”
Elizabeth looked up from Bingley’s letter. “Yes, she seems to feel that women need to possess something in their air and manner of walking to show themselves to their best advantage, and clearly none of those ladies had attended the school she did.”
“Extraordinary.”
“Mr. Bingley spoke with the gentlemen, Mr. White, who owns a perfumery, and Mr. Brewer who is, ironically, a brewer.” Elizabeth’s laugh brought on Darcy’s smile. “Oh dear, he said that both men found her handsome and were curious if she was always so …” She squinted and bit her lip. “It looks like it says superior.” She looked up to Darcy. “Does Mr. Bingley know that is not a compliment?”
“Apparently not.” Darcy sighed. “I was once called something similar to that.”
