No, I am quite ill. I am a lovesick fool. Darcy was struck with a most inappropriate impulse to laugh and hastily wiped his mouth with his napkin.
Elizabeth appeared most alarmed by the state of his health. Fortunately, before she could form another inquiry, their attention was drawn by the penetrating tones of his aunt addressing Georgiana. “You are a Darcy! You must relinquish these silly reservations and live up to your name!”
Darcy recognized belatedly that he should have been paying more heed to Georgiana’s conversation with their aunt so he might protect his sister from inappropriate badgering.
“I am sorry, Aunt.” Georgiana’s face was pale and strained, her eyes watery with the effort to hold back tears.
“Aunt Rachel?” Darcy infused his tone with enough authority to command her attention.
The countess leaned back in her chair and speared a small potato with her fork, feigning unconcern. “Your sister believes she does not wish to make her come out next year.”
Georgiana said nothing, but her eyes pleaded with Darcy for understanding. “We have discussed the possibility of delaying it until the following Season,” he said calmly.
“Ridiculous!” his aunt cried, the potato poised halfway to her mouth. “Why delay? Georgiana does not have older sisters yet to be married! The younger she enters the marriage market, the more eligible suitors she will attract!” The countess jabbed the potato in the air for emphasis. “Her beauty will only fade with time.” Her eyes slid sideways to glance at Elizabeth. Darcy bristled. At twenty, Elizabeth was hardly on the shelf.
The blood pulsed in his temples, compounding the pain in his head. His aunt and uncle had a remarkable ability to provoke his temper, particularly when questioning his decisions regarding Georgiana.
Darcy understood all too well her reservations about presenting herself to strangers. Georgiana’s coming out ball would necessarily be one of the high points of the Season, with hundreds in attendance. He himself would not relish being the center of such a maelstrom.
Coming out a year from now would be an exercise in torture for Georgiana. Darcy could only hope that someday when she was older, she could tolerate it—even if she would never enjoy it.
“There is no rush.” Darcy attempted to keep his voice level. “I have discussed this with Richard, since he is Georgiana’s other guardian.” He emphasized the last two words, reminding his aunt who held the authority in this situation. “If she is more comfortable waiting a year for her come out, then we will accommodate her wishes.” Georgiana bestowed on him a small, grateful smile.
“I am certain she will only grow in beauty,” Richard added. “And she will be much sought after, no matter when she comes out.”
Her dowry guarantees that, Darcy thought. Even if she had a face like a horse.
Opposed on all sides, the countess harrumphed and commenced to dictate to Georgiana on the subject of hats.
Satisfied with his victory, Darcy took another sip of wine, only then noticing Elizabeth’s wide, approving smile—directed at him. He was caught unprepared, unaccustomed to experiencing her approbation. For a moment, he indulged the fantasy that she smiled at him with love and returned the smile.
Abruptly, Elizabeth colored and dropped her eyes to her plate. Good God! I have been staring at her lips! Get a hold of yourself, man! At this juncture, the best he could hope was that she would attribute his behavior to excessive imbibing. Have I been brought so low?
Blast! How else would he betray himself after a few more minutes in her presence? Closing his eyes, he massaged his forehead again.
Only then did he realize his aunt was once more talking about Georgiana’s debut. “William, I declare, you do have some peculiar notions. And, Georgiana, every girl loves to make her bow. Just think of the beautiful gowns you will have and all the suitors who will send you flowers!”
Georgiana said nothing as she hunched over her plate, picking at her food and trying to render herself invisible.
“I do not believe, madam, such occasions hold much appeal for my sister,” Darcy said firmly.
The countess sniffed in disdain. “Singular. Most singular.”
“Yes,” Darcy said. “Many people have described the Darcys thus.”
A smile quirked at the edges of Elizabeth’s lips. “So I have heard as well,” she murmured, her fine eyes sparkling.
Perhaps the evening was not a complete loss after all.
Chapter 4
The weeks since the betrothal dinner at Richard’s townhouse had been dull ones for Elizabeth. After receiving word from his steward of problems with some tenants, Richard had departed for Hargrave. The difficulties had proved to be quite serious, owing to his aunt’s long neglect of her estate, and Richard had already delayed his return twice. In her daily letters, Elizabeth assured him that she understood the need for his continued absence, but she dearly missed his liveliness and wit. In a short time, she had grown accustomed to his company and amiable conversation.
If only she could have accompanied him to Hargrave! But they were not yet married, so traveling together would be impossible.
Elizabeth’s excitement at her impending nuptials was doubled by the not unexpected news of Jane’s engagement to Mr. Bingley. The day following the betrothal dinner, he had called on Jane at the Gardiners’ house and promptly asked for her hand. The news of a second daughter engaged had set Mrs. Bennet into a frenzy of lace purchasing and visits to silk merchants. However, she had demanded the wedding be held at Longbourn, so she and Jane, being of a more tractable disposition than Elizabeth, had returned to Hertfordshire to make plans for the wedding.
Although Richard’s mother did not approve of Elizabeth, the countess had insisted that their ceremony take place at their home parish in London. Elizabeth had agreed as a means of keeping the peace. Who she married was of far greater import to her than where.
The dullness of weeks without Richard—or even Jane—for company was alleviated by frequent visits to Darcy House. Much to her surprise, Elizabeth had received an invitation to visit Georgiana two days following the betrothal dinner. Although she had enjoyed making Georgiana’s acquaintance, she had expected Mr. Darcy to discourage his sister’s association with a woman of low connections and “tolerable” appearance.
On further reflection, Elizabeth concluded that Mr. Darcy had conceded the necessity of the women’s acquaintance based on his sister’s fondness for Richard. Perhaps he saw Elizabeth’s presence in their lives as unavoidable.
The first invitation was followed by others, and soon Elizabeth was visiting Darcy House almost every day. Mrs. Gardiner also invited Georgiana for tea on numerous occasions, and she accepted quite graciously.
Mr. Darcy was in London but appeared to make it a practice to never be at home when Elizabeth visited. So she was spared his cryptic remarks and disapproving glares. Richard maintained that Darcy did not dislike her, and Elizabeth conceded that he seemed to approve of her at the betrothal dinner—although she could not say he actually enjoyed her company.
However, he went to some trouble to avoid her at Darcy House, and upon the rare occasions she encountered him, his manner was proud and distant.
Before his departure for Hargrave, Richard had acquainted Elizabeth with the particulars of Georgiana’s sad history with Wickham. Elizabeth had been horrified at the story and disgusted with herself for believing any words the man spoke.
Georgiana herself later confessed the story to Elizabeth and appeared quite eager for a confidante. Having herself been deceived by Wickham, Elizabeth was quite capable of sympathizing with Georgiana’s sense of shame, and the two women had many long talks on the subject.
They also amused themselves for many hours playing the pianoforte. Georgiana was a far more accomplished player than Elizabeth, but lacked any confidence in her abilities. Elizabeth encouraged her to practice performing before an audience, using Mrs. Annesley and servants who were diverted from their daily tasks as listeners.
&nb
sp; On other occasions, Elizabeth would entertain Georgiana with satirical performances. One day, about three weeks into her acquaintance with Georgiana, Elizabeth was performing a particularly silly imitation of an instructor who had taught the pianoforte to her sister, Mary. Elizabeth pounded on the keys with stiff, straight arms, while simultaneously expostulating in Italian-accented English. After a few minutes, both women dissolved into giggles.
Just then, Elizabeth recognized they were not alone in the music room. She raised her gaze from the pianoforte to see Mr. Darcy standing in the doorway and observing them with a very serious air. No doubt he disapproved of such frivolities, but Elizabeth was not prepared to desist. Darcy’s sister required more levity in her life, and Elizabeth had undertaken this mission. She raised her chin a fraction, daring Mr. Darcy to disapprove.
“William!” Georgiana strolled across the room and took her brother’s hands. He kissed her warmly on the cheek. Whatever his other faults, Elizabeth thought, Mr. Darcy was an excellent brother. Georgiana would sing his praises at every opportunity.
Even following the disaster at Ramsgate, Mr. Darcy had apparently treated his sister gently and with great consideration for her feelings. Elizabeth could imagine many brothers or fathers flying into a rage over such behavior.
“Miss Bennet.” Darcy bowed slightly, and she gave him a small curtsey in response.
“If you have come to frighten us into seriousness of purpose, I am afraid you will fail with me, although I cannot vouch for your sister,” Elizabeth teased.
Georgiana’s eyes sparkled as she laughed at the sportive way her friend spoke with her brother.
“Indeed, you mistake me,” Mr. Darcy said. “The sound of your laughter was a most pleasant welcome home. I pray you, continue.” He settled himself into a chair and regarded her with a small, challenging smile.
Georgiana’s eyes widened in alarm at the prospect of exhibiting such merriment before her very proper older brother.
Elizabeth lifted her head a little higher. “My courage rises with every attempt to intimidate me. Come, Georgiana, shall we play our duet for him?”
Georgiana bit her lip nervously—she understood which duet Elizabeth meant—but she seated herself on the bench beside her friend.
This particular bit of silliness had been inspired by a performance Elizabeth had observed once in Meryton, where two sisters in the Hamilton family had been determined to outperform each other—even when performing a duet. Each had attempted to play with more flourish and louder than the other until the entire piece dissolved into a cacophonous mess.
As they played, Elizabeth and Georgiana deliberately bumped each other and pushed each other’s hands out of the way, placing arms on top of hands and striking the keys more and more forcefully. Only halfway through the piece, both women were laughing too much to continue.
Elizabeth caught Mr. Darcy smiling, without any evident sign of disapproval. “Have we assaulted your ears long enough?” she asked pertly.
He lifted an eyebrow and considered before responding. “While I would not say the listening experience was precisely pleasurable, there is enjoyment to be had in observing others enjoying themselves.”
Expecting censure, Elizabeth was confused by Mr. Darcy’s reaction. Perhaps he was simply happy to observe his sister laughing. Richard had said his cousin was concerned about her lack of spirits.
Elizabeth rose from the bench. “I should allow you time alone with your sister.”
“No stay, Elizabeth!” Georgiana insisted. “I shall ring for tea.”
Darcy’s eyes caught and held hers with an unnerving intensity. “Yes, stay for refreshments.” Elizabeth glanced away, her body tingling with that vague unsettling sense she always felt in his presence. Did he truly wish for her company, or was he only inviting her for his sister’s sake?
“Of course,” she murmured. “If you wish.”
“Miss Bennet.” Something in his voice compelled her to meet his eyes. “I do wish it. Most ardently.”
***
For how long had he been staring at nothing? Darcy once again concentrated his attention on the letter from his steward at Pemberley. Blast! He must have read this passage three times. He could blame exhaustion; he had not slept well in the past weeks. Truth be told, it had been months—since his ill-fated visit to Rosings—since he had experienced a complete night of rest. Brandy or port before bed helped him to drop off, but he frequently awakened in the middle of the night.
However, if he were honest with himself, he would admit the true reason for his inattention this night was straining his ears for the sounds of Elizabeth’s arrival. His study was near the back of Darcy House, and activities at the front were often muffled.
It is of no matter when she arrives, he reminded himself. She is Georgiana’s guest, not mine. Despite delivering stern lectures to himself all morning, he knew he would be helpless to resist the sounds of Elizabeth’s voice singing or gently teasing his sister.
It was pathetic. A grown man. The master of Pemberley. And he could not stay away from a woman any more than a small boy could resist an illicit sweet.
Perhaps he should resume his routine of repairing to his club when she was due for a visit. But that was almost worse. He would wonder where she had sat, what she had said, which dress she had worn, and what she had eaten. He worried anxiously whether she was happy. If Richard had returned from his estate. If he had kissed her….
Darcy attempted to keep his visits to the music room short. He said little and addressed as few comments to Elizabeth as possible. But he had an overwhelming need to simply share her presence and bask in her essence. He wanted to observe the power of her fine eyes and see where their gaze alighted. He wanted to provoke that arch smile and teasing glance. Above all, he wanted to remove her to Pemberley and make love to her.
Darcy shook his head sharply. He must suppress such thinking. Richard’s prolonged absence was both a blessing and a curse— for it permitted him to fantasize that Elizabeth was his.
Darcy pushed himself out of his desk chair, hoping some movement would help. At Pemberley, he would often use a long ride to clear his thoughts, but it was impossible in London. He loathed the forced inactivity.
He poured himself another brandy, despite knowing he should not indulge so early in the day, but he could not discover a different means of quieting his roiling thoughts. At least each glass of brandy rendered his feelings a little more distant.
The crystal clinked, and the liquid splashed into the glass as he poured. Darcy heard no sounds of girlish laughter or quick feminine footsteps in the hall. Elizabeth had been engaged to visit Georgiana and stay for dinner the previous day but had sent a note delaying by a day. What if she was ill? Fear gripped Darcy, and he was seized with a desire to burst through the study door and seek out Elizabeth immediately.
Get a hold of yourself!
Darcy clutched the almost empty glass and forced his leaden limbs into the chair. Georgiana would inform him if Elizabeth were sick.
But would the Gardiners know the best doctors in London? He knew Elizabeth’s aunt had several children. Would she have time to adequately nurse a sick niece? What if the Gardiners themselves were sick?
Darcy rose again with the intention of seeking out Georgiana when he heard the front door knocker sound. He sank again into his chair, relieved and a bit foolish.
However, he did not hear Elizabeth. The muffled voice sounded like a man’s. Was he to have no relief from his worries over Elizabeth? Darcy scowled at the paper spread on the desk before him as if it were responsible for his confusion.
A moment later, a footman opened the door and announced, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir.”
Richard strode in, rumpled and travel-worn. His mouth was set, and worry lines were carved around his eyes. Darcy’s anxiety about Elizabeth’s health returned twofold.
Darcy clasped his cousin’s hand. “When did you return to London?”
His cousin ignored the chai
r Darcy indicated but grabbed its back hard enough that his knuckles turned white. “Just now. I only stopped at the Gardiners before coming here.”
Darcy’s eyebrows rose. Richard had not taken the time to return to his own house? There was a problem with Elizabeth! He felt as if a hand were squeezing his lungs, making breathing difficult. “What has occurred? Is Elizabeth ill?”
“No, thank God, nothing like that.” Richard sighed, running his hand over his jaw. “It is Wickham.”
Anger surged through Darcy. He believed he had managed to banish the blackguard from their lives. Had he somehow imposed himself on Elizabeth? Darcy’s hands itched to wring Wickham’s neck.
“Wickham has run off with Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia.” Richard’s tone was bitter. “She was visiting a friend at Brighton, where Wickham’s regiment was stationed. They escaped under cover of darkness—three days ago. Mr. Bennet is here; he believes they are in London, but he and Mr. Gardiner have been unable to locate her. I returned as soon as I received word.”
The enormity of Fitzwilliam’s words washed over Darcy. What Elizabeth must be suffering with such scandal having befallen her family! If only he could be at the house on Gracechurch Street to comfort her. But it was not his place. He could not so much as touch her hand.
Why had the Gardiners not notified Darcy of the matter immediately? But, no, they had no reason to believe he had particular interest in Wickham or assisting Elizabeth. Damn the need for discretion!
And damn Wickham! Richard raised an eyebrow, and Darcy realized he had spoken the words aloud.
“Indeed,” Richard agreed. “I knew I would regret not shooting him after Ramsgate.”
“You would regret Newgate as well.” But his cousin waved thoughts of imprisonment away.
“Tell me everything.” Darcy gestured Richard to a seat and poured some of his best French brandy for his cousin, who accepted it gratefully. Then he obtained another brandy for himself, noting that the level in the decanter was getting low. A broken heart was expensive.
Pride and Proposals Page 4
