by Jennifer Joy
In an intruding voice, Colonel Forster said, "That is all then. We will leave you to rest. I must see Mr. Darcy back to my home, and I am certain Mr. Tanner is anxious to return to his inn."
A door opened and a weepy voice from the hallway said, "Colonel Forster, am I to understand that you will allow my daughters to be attacked again without extending your protection to them in the same manner you have done with Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Bennet sniffed.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, hoping in vain her mother would go away. It had never worked in the past, and she had no reason to think it would do so then either… for all that she dearly wished it.
At least Elizabeth had had sense enough to conceal Mr. Darcy’s letter up her sleeve before anyone had noticed. Mother would have loved to have caught her with a letter from an unmarried man. She would have insisted that Mr. Darcy purchase a special license and would have seen them married before the inquest.
Sighing in resignation while the gentlemen overcame their shock at her mother's suggestion, Elizabeth said, "Mother, the trouble is done. Jane and I shall sleep well so long as we can cover the window to keep out the cold."
"On top of fearing for your life, I am to fret you shall catch your death of a cold? No, child, it will not do. My nerves cannot endure it. Tell her it is so, Mr. Bennet! I cannot bear it! Oh, the sufferings of a mother!" she exclaimed through sobs.
Father stepped into the hallway, where Mother held a handkerchief wadded up by her face and a wrap clutched around her shoulders.
Lydia stamped to her door and cracked it open. Elizabeth saw the edge of her nightgown peek through the bottom of the door and prayed she would open it no further. "If Lizzy and Jane get to stay with the Forsters, then I demand to go to! My life is in just as much danger as hers, and I am too pretty to die so young! Imagine if a shard of glass had cut my face!" She began to sob violently.
Lydia’s outburst fueled Mother’s hysteria until the two of them became inconsolable in a matter of seconds. Father inhaled deeply, his cheeks puffing out as he exhaled. He knew their routine well.
Colonel Forster, unaccustomed to such dramatics, stood with his jaw open. In a profession where he was surrounded by men day in and day out, it must come as quite a shock to deal with a house full of temperamental women.
Elizabeth swallowed her chuckles, preferring it to the embarrassment she also felt.
Controlling her emotions enough to speak, Mother said, “None of us shall rest well tonight, and how are we to receive all of our callers on the morrow?”
Mr. Tanner rubbed his hand over his face. “I agree with Mrs. Bennet.”
Mother’s reaction was instant and nothing short of a miracle. Tears dried and her wailing ceased completely.
“Hush, Lydia! How can we listen to Mr. Tanner’s voice of reason when you carry on so?” she exclaimed, adding, “Please, sir, convince these gentlemen to offer their protection to my beloved daughter.”
Mr. Tanner said, “Someone has it in for Miss Elizabeth, and until we find out who it is, she could be in danger. I have an empty room at the inn for her and Miss Bennet, but I am unable to keep a vigilant watch while attending to my duties.” He looked expectantly at Colonel Forster. As did Mother.
Mr. Darcy was silent. His face gave nothing away— unlike her own, which she could feel burned in mortification.
Chapter 26
Elizabeth crept down the stairs, feeling like an intruder with each step. Her room had been cold, but the bed had been warm and comfortable. She had to admit she would not have slept so well in her own room at Longbourn. Here, at the Forsters', she could look out of her window and see an officer standing in front of the back door. The sight offered a sense of security, and when she awoke the following morning to see another officer stationed there, her fear subsided.
Father and Mr. Collins had stayed at Longbourn. Mother had insisted that the house was unsafe, and so she and the rest of their household had spent the night with Aunt Philips. Elizabeth felt better knowing they were nearby.
Following her grumbling stomach and her nose, Elizabeth found the breakfast room. It was a cramped space, but the curtains were open and offered a view of the soggy streets through the glass.
Mr. Darcy sat at the table, a plate in front of him. He bumped against the table in his haste to stand. "You are awake early," he said in greeting.
"I may say the same of you." She looked around her, but saw no one else.
He motioned to the chair opposite him. "Please have a seat, Miss Elizabeth. The door is open and with the servants wandering in and out of the room, I hardly think it inappropriate for us to break our fast together."
"Have you seen Colonel or Mrs. Forster?"
"I have not, but I suspect the colonel is out. Mrs. Forster, I have learned in my brief stay here, prefers to take her breakfast upstairs."
A servant passed by the door, nodded when she saw Elizabeth at the table, and scurried away— Elizabeth hoped in the direction of the kitchen. She was dreadfully hungry. And dreadfully nervous. Now that she held no resentment against Mr. Darcy, she felt uncertain in his company.
Mr. Darcy did not take a bite from his own plate until her own breakfast was served a minute later. They sat across from each other, the silence growing increasingly heavy as the minutes passed. Why was this so difficult? How much easier it had been when she had hated him…
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, buttering a roll of bread and reaching for the preserves.
"I did," she answered, reaching her hand out for the jar of preserves when he had finished. “And you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Her teeth sank into the soft bread, still warm from the oven, and moaned before she remembered with whom she sat at the table.
Opening her eyes and stopping herself short, she heard Mr. Darcy laugh.
"It is good bread. Please do not let my presence diminish your enjoyment."
Thus encouraged, she took another bite, savoring the sweet flavors, but keeping her pleasure mute.
When she had finished half of a roll and could think more clearly, she sat back in her chair and sipped her coffee. Scrunching her face up at the bitter taste, she reached for the sugar bowl at the same time Mr. Darcy pushed it toward her. She pulled back her hand, surprised at his gesture.
"I remember how you take your coffee… from your stay at Netherfield," he explained.
"Oh," was all she managed to say, wishing she could think of a clever retort, but none came. So she put a teaspoon of sugar in her coffee and stirred, wondering why Mr. Darcy would remember such an insignificant detail about her. He probably remembered every curt word of hers against him, too. And she had never had an opportunity to apologize… until now.
"Mr. Darcy, I read your letter. I…," she looked for servants before continuing. "… I am sorry for biting your finger.” Now, that was not what she had planned to say. Embarrassed, she lowered her chin. She did not want Mr. Darcy to see her blush.
With a frustrated sigh at her inability to speak as easily as she had before, Elizabeth stared into her coffee cup. When Mr. Darcy did not reply, she got curious and looked up at him. She was not prepared for what she saw.
His eyes brimmed with mirth, his lips trembling. Elizabeth had always thought him exceptionally handsome— What woman with a beating heart would not?— but his entire face glowed in happiness. His eyes brightened like fireworks in a dark sky, crinkling upwards in the corners. He parted his lips, no longer struggling to hold in his merriment, and the throaty laughter which emanated from him carried away all of Elizabeth’s apprehensions. It was so contagious, she soon joined him.
He held his hand out for her to see. There were two neat, purple marks just below his knuckle. “As you see, Miss Elizabeth, I shall live. Considering the circumstances, I rather admired your reaction at the time— painful though it was for me.” He chuckled again, and Elizabeth bit her bottom lip to restrain her laughter.
“I am sorry,” she repeated, this time allowing her ey
es to fix on his.
Mr. Darcy waved his hand. "You need not apologize. I should have told you the truth about Wickham sooner. For that, it is I who should apologize."
She shook her head. "The timing of the telling should not have mattered. I insulted your character, and my conscience has tormented me ever since. I cast my judgment against you based on unfounded prejudice. I had always taken pride in my ability to measure a person’s character, and now I see how mistaken I have been. It makes me doubt how helpful I can be to you, and yet, I must not fail."
"The ball was only three days ago.” Mr. Darcy spoke softly, his eyebrows pressing up in concern.
Elizabeth sighed and twirled her cup. "But it feels as if it has been an eternity ago. And still, I am no closer to finding out who really did kill Mr. Wickham. Have you found out anything? I do not imagine it is easy to continue making inquiries while you are stuck here." Imagine that. Mr. Darcy stuck. Those words did not belong together. A man such as he would not be presumed upon to stay unless he wished it. Hmm… now that was something. "Why do you stay here?" she asked.
He smiled. "Right now, I am enjoying my stay."
How had she not appreciated the cleft in his chin before or the dimple that deepened in his cheek as he smiled? She felt a blush creep up her neck. Mr. Darcy was flirting with her. Such a mixture of pride and pleasure surged through her and muddled her thoughts so that she wondered if she would ever be able to utter a sensible sentence again. Thankfully, it passed. So long as she did not look at him again, she would manage.
He cleared his throat. "All pleasantries aside, Miss Elizabeth, I am only here because I hold life in high regard. I did not want to put Bingley and his household in jeopardy. While my freedom is limited, Colonel Forster has been a gracious host and keeps me informed of any advances in his search."
Elizabeth bowed her head, her cheeks burning with heat. "I realize how disagreeable the consequences of what happened in the library are to you,” she paused to catch her breath, hoping he would interrupt her. Hoping he would deny her assumption.
When he did not, she continued, her chest tightening, “However, I also value life. Mine, as well as yours. If it comes down to it, I will tell Colonel Forster what happened the night of the ball."
"I would only think it disagreeable to the degree in which you do," Mr. Darcy said, his brow furrowed. He muttered, "Do not think I place more value on my life than I do on your freedom and my sister's reputation. Were it not for the confounded secrets I must take with me to the grave, I would long since have liberated myself from this burden."
He could not mean it. Then again, when had Mr. Darcy ever said anything he did not wish to express?
"Surely, in my case, you cannot mean it. For your sister, I would do the same in your situation, and I am honored all the more for your sharing it with me. Such loyalty should be commended, not sacrificed for the freedom of one who has acted ungratefully toward the giver as I have."
"Of what use is life without freedom?" he asked, the intensity of his gaze burning her cheeks.
"And of what use is freedom without life?" she countered. She searched his face, but he revealed nothing. How did he do it?
“What of your happiness?” he asked. “Would you be willing to settle to a life of mediocre complacency if I were to reveal the truth of our circumstances?”
She came so near to exclaiming, "Yes," she forced herself to look away from him before he read her thoughts. Unlike him, she had never been good at disguising her feelings. There was still much she would like to learn about Mr. Darcy, but that was the trouble. She wanted to learn more about him.
If only he felt the same about her, she felt confident love would grow where respect and trust thrived. But she was too simple. She despised disguise of any sort, and had never learned the art of flirtation as other, more sophisticated ladies had. There were too many reasons why he should not attach himself to her.
Finally, she looked up. He had asked a sincere question, and he deserved a sincere answer. "I would make the most of it. If happiness is possible, I would soon discover it and nurture it."
Her eyes prickled, making her angry with herself. Why should she feel inclined to shed tears at a time like this? How foolish she felt. How foolish she must seem to Mr. Darcy. She tried to push away her emotions. She told herself, as she had so many times before, that she did not care in the least what Mr. Darcy thought of her. Therein lay the problem. She cared. It disturbed her greatly to feel how deeply she cared.
Why did it bother him so much to hear Miss Elizabeth insist they would be unhappy together? Would she give him no encouragement at all? Despite everything she knew, despite her knowledge of the truth and his attempts to reveal his character to her, did she despise him yet?
Darcy filled his lungs and exhaled, counting the seconds as his breath left him. No, Miss Elizabeth did not despise him. He could have read it on her face if she still held him in derision. He had seen the expression on her face too many times not to recognize it now.
To think there was a time when he had thought her brutal honesty to be an exercise in the mastery of flirtation. But he knew better now. She could not flirt properly if her life depended upon it, nor would she offer him hope where there was none.
Her answer ought to have pleased him. Indeed, it made him think all the better of her. The same tenacity with which she had stubbornly misjudged him before would serve as a blessing if she directed it toward their mutual happiness. He would do anything to make her happy. He loved her with his whole being. Her voice was his favorite sound; her smile, his favorite sight. She filled his senses and for the first time in his memory, he felt complete. Like a sunrise in his heart, Darcy’s love for Elizabeth awakened his hope, filling his soul with warmth and joy until it overflowed.
Darcy fought to keep his face neutral.
He could not declare himself if she did not return his affection. His heart ached with pent up emotion, but he could bear it better than he could her refusal. It was too soon, and he loved her too much to risk making a premature declaration merely to appease his ardent heart.
"I promise you, Miss Elizabeth, I would exert no less effort than you would."
He watched the flush in her cheeks intensify, brightening her fine eyes to sparkling gems of amber. A hint of a smile curled the corners of her lips. His mind filled with questions he wanted to ask and conversations he wanted to have with her. It would take a lifetime. He could not envision a better way to spend his life.
Like rainclouds at a picnic, Mrs. Forster slipped into the room. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy. Miss Elizabeth," she said cheerfully.
Why had she not taken breakfast in her room as she had before? The lightness in the room disturbed, Darcy mumbled something polite before turning his attention to his plate once again.
Chapter 27
The morning was replete with unwanted callers. First, Mrs. Forster had interrupted his comfortable tête-à-tête with Miss Elizabeth, and now they found themselves in the company of Mr. Stallard and Mr. Tanner.
Mr. Stallard had the audacity to look shocked at the events of the previous evening. He pretended sincere concern over Miss Elizabeth's safety. In Darcy's opinion, he was nothing more than a superb actor. Darcy watched his every move for signs of insincerity. Fortunately, Colonel Forster had joined them to witness the interview.
"Miss Elizabeth, I cannot express my dismay enough. This is a sordid affair, and as far as I can tell, one in which you should have no involvement," said Mr. Stallard for the second time since he had entered the Forsters' drawing room.
Mr. Tanner sat in the chair next to him, his arms crossed. He glared at everyone in the room as if he trusted no one. Perhaps he had more sense than Darcy originally gave him credit for— except, of course, when his glares were targeted at him.
Colonel Forster, who stood near the fireplace took a step forward, commanding everyone's attention. "Miss Elizabeth," he asked, his hands open and his voice soft, "do you have any enemies who
might have acted against you? Or, perhaps less likely, might you have stumbled upon some valuable and therefore incriminating information regarding the identity of Lieutenant Wickham's murderer?"
Miss Elizabeth shook her head. "If I have enemies, I do not know them. And I fear I have discovered nothing of use about the investigation or I should have told you or Mr. Tanner directly."
Darcy could not help but notice how she excluded Mr. Stallard.
"Have you any indication at all as to why someone would accuse you in a manner meant to startle all in your household?" asked Mr. Tanner, one fist balled up inside the other. He looked as Darcy felt. Were the identity of the assaulter to be found, Darcy would have to hold his fists as tightly as Mr. Tanner did.
"No. I have spent all night and this morning trying to think who might do such a thing, and I have nothing more than unfounded suspicions." Her eyes flickered to Mr. Stallard.
The man, whose guilt grew by the minute, said in mock innocence, "Nothing good can come of a female involving herself in a man's work. Miss Elizabeth, I must insist for your own wellbeing that you not make any more inquiries. Allow the men to do their work."
Miss Elizabeth swallowed hard, and Darcy watched her eyes flash in anger. He could hardly blame her. She was one of the more intelligent people in the room— her startling misjudgment of his own character aside, although she had not been entirely in the wrong… He observed her struggle. She twisted her hands in her lap, her knuckles white.
He could watch her suffer no longer. "Miss Elizabeth, while I cannot agree a female is any less qualified to investigate a murder, I will agree with Mr. Stallard that you should cease to inquire into it further. The incident you suffered from last night may have nothing to do with Mr. Wickham's murder, but until we know for certain, you ought not make yourself a target by continuing to ask questions where perhaps they are not welcome. Your life is infinitely more valuable than that."
