After seating himself, Darcy swirled the caramel colored liquid in his glass. “Poor Elizabeth. She does not deserve such scandal.”
Richard regarded Darcy strangely, and only then did he recognize he had used her Christian name. He set the brandy down on the desk and said the first thing that came to mind. “Is she very distressed?”
Richard’s free hand clenched into a fist. “Yes, very.” He frowned at Darcy. Did he suspect something? Feigning a nonchalance he did not feel, Darcy sipped the brandy but barely tasted the liquid on his tongue. Richard continued. “She is concerned about the family’s loss of reputation. She even offered to release me from the engagement.”
How like Elizabeth! Darcy was ashamed at his surge of hope.
“Naturally, I declined.”
Darcy nodded. “I would never let her go either.” Richard frowned again, and Darcy cursed his loose tongue.
Darcy needed to divert the other man’s attention. “What has been done to recover them?” he asked.
Richard shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. “I know not. Elizabeth’s father and uncle were out when I called. They were traced as far as London, and we have no reason to think they have left. Lydia appears to believe Wickham would marry her, but we know his character too well—he would need monetary inducement.”
Darcy nodded a grim assent.
Full of restless energy, Richard pushed away from the chair and prowled about the room like a caged animal. Finally, he stopped at the window and gazed out at the street. “I hoped you might know of some of his old acquaintances in London, someone he might contact.”
“I have some ideas.”
“Good.” Richard regarded Darcy intently. “If you give me those names, I—”
“No.”
His cousin blinked in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“I will not give you the names. The fault is mine, so must the remedy be.”
Richard sighed in exasperation. “The fault is Wickham’s.”
“If I had not been so hesitant to lay out my private business before the world, he could not have imposed himself on an innocent girl like Miss Lydia.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “You take too much on yourself.”
“Nevertheless, allow me to be of service to Eliz—Miss Elizabeth—and to you.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “It will be your wedding gift.”
Richard gave Darcy a long look. “Very well. But let me be the one to pay Wickham. Elizabeth is my family, or will be shortly. You must not lay out funds for this.”
“Your desire to care for your fiancée’s family is commendable,” Darcy said neutrally.
Richard shook his hand, apparently not noticing that Darcy had not agreed to his terms. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”
Darcy gave an inward sigh of relief. He had no intention of allowing his cousin to pay a penny. If Darcy could not marry Elizabeth, at least he could be of some service to her in this matter. “My pleasure.”
“I shall retire to my townhouse for some clean clothing and then visit the Gardiners to learn if they have made progress. Send word when you have news.”
“I will.”
***
Darcy handed his hat to the footman and strode toward the ballroom without waiting for the man to announce him. He was certain he had actually declined the invitation to this ball celebrating Lady Howard’s birthday; he declined most invitations. He was equally certain that Lord and Lady Howard would be delighted at his presence. Enticing the “elusive” Mr. Darcy to a ball was considered a social coup.
Not that he planned to linger.
It had taken him two days to locate Wickham and arrange for a satisfactory agreement with the scoundrel. But when he had visited his cousin’s townhouse to share the news, Darcy had been told Fitzwilliam was at the Howards’ ball. Darcy very much doubted Richard had wished to attend a celebration under the current circumstances, but perhaps his mother had applied her unique persuasive powers to insist on it.
These affairs could drag on into the small hours of the morning, and Darcy wished to immediately inform Richard of the recent developments. So he had returned home, donned suitable attire, and rushed to Howard House.
Standing at the entrance to the ballroom, Darcy scanned the crowd. If only Fitzwilliam still wore his uniform! The red would render him far more noticeable.
It was quite a crush of glittering jewels, silk dresses, and fluttering fans. Matrons gossiped along the edges of the dance floor, while the young people danced and flirted. Most of the older men would be in the card rooms. Perhaps he should seek his cousin there. Darcy espied his Aunt Rachel but discarded the idea of soliciting her assistance. Richard likely was avoiding his parents.
Darcy’s eye was drawn to one of the dancers, a light and pleasing figure he would recognize anywhere. Elizabeth wore an elegant gown of light blue silk and flowers in her hair that complimented it perfectly. Since she was unaware of his regard, Darcy indulged his desire to gaze upon her. The force of her personality shone in every step as she moved in perfect harmony with the music. However, knowing her as he did, Darcy discerned how her smile was a bit forced and her spirits rather subdued. Her sister’s scandal had taken its toll.
The dance came to a close, and only then did Darcy notice that Elizabeth was partnered with Richard. The countess must have convinced her son it was a perfect opportunity to introduce his betrothed to the society of the ton. Darcy pushed through the crush toward his cousin, but his progress was slow. Revelers around him noted his presence, staring and remarking on it behind their hands. No doubt matchmaking mothers and simpering society misses were already planning their strategies.
Darcy increased his pace, fearing he would lose his cousin in the crowd. Finally, he found the couple near the lemonade table. “Cousin!” Richard exclaimed. “I never expected you here.” But Darcy’s eyes fixed on Elizabeth and would not waver. She was as beautiful as ever, but her fine eyes were shadowed by dark circles, and her complexion was pale. Thank God it is within my power to relieve her suffering!
“I had no plans on attending this ball. I came seeking you.” His cousin’s eyes widened, and Elizabeth seemed alarmed. “The news is good.” Elizabeth relaxed visibly.
Darcy took his cousin by the elbow. “Let us repair to the veranda. I pray you, excuse us, Miss Bennet.” Richard murmured something to Elizabeth, then turned and followed Darcy through a pair of French doors.
The night was warm, but there was a breeze, which rendered the outside slightly more tolerable than the ballroom. There were several trysting couples on the veranda; Darcy led his cousin to a deserted location cast in shadows by the leaves of a weeping cherry tree.
“What is it?” his cousin asked in a low, urgent voice. “Do not leave me in suspense.”
“I found Wickham and Lydia,” Darcy said. “They are in London, as yet unmarried.” His cousin frowned at this revelation. “But I was able to persuade Wickham to it. An announcement of their engagement has been placed in tomorrow’s paper, and Lydia arrived at the Gardiners’ house three hours ago. They will be married within the week.”
“Damn it! You have left nothing for me to do!” Fitzwilliam scowled and turned away, leaning his elbows on the marble balustrade of the veranda.
Darcy had anticipated his cousin’s dissatisfaction. “I feared that only immediate monetary incentive would prevent Wickham’s flight.”
Richard gave a derisive snort. “I made my wishes clear. I did not wish you to take on the expense!”
Darcy ignored the outburst. “There is much still to be accomplished, which I am happy to leave in your hands.” His interest piqued, Richard glanced over his shoulder at Darcy. “The agreement with Wickham will need Mr. Bennet’s approval.” His cousin regarded him with narrowed eyes. “I do not wish anyone to know of my involvement. Wickham is sworn to secrecy, and Lydia is unaware of my role.”
Realization dawned on Richard’s face. “So you have accomplished all the work, and I a
m to take all the credit!”
Darcy nodded. “It is fitting. I have no desire to explain my history with Wickham to the Bennets, and they will be grateful for your assistance.” Darcy grimaced. “I do not need their gratitude—and would prefer they never know.”
Richard regarded him soberly. “Only you would prefer to conceal the best of yourself from others.” He sighed heavily. “Very well, I will abide by your wishes, but you must allow me to reimburse your expenses.”
“No,” Darcy spoke firmly. “You are rehabilitating a neglected estate. Wickham is my responsibility, and I will bear the expense.”
Richard slammed his fist on the balustrade. “Darcy!” There was no mistaking the tone of exasperation.
“I will not be moved in this.”
“Always so damned high-handed!” Darcy said nothing; this was a complaint he heard before from his cousin. Richard stared into the night. After a minute, he finally grumbled, “Very well. But you should know I will be seeking an opportunity to return the favor.”
“As you wish.” Darcy cleared his throat. “Above all, do not reveal my involvement to Miss Elizabeth. If you must say anything, tell her I only acted as your emissary to Wickham.” Richard frowned, but Darcy held up a hand to forestall any protest. “I ask much of you, old friend. But I do not wish her to ever feel beholden to me.” Richard regarded him with narrowed eyes for a long moment, and Darcy feared he had betrayed himself. Finally, his cousin nodded.
Darcy leaned on the balustrade beside Richard. “I think it best if you inform Miss Elizabeth this night. She will see the announcement in the morning’s paper.”
Richard sighed. “Just as well. She only attended this ball at my insistence, and I only attended at my mother’s insistence. But I had hoped it would divert her attention from her sister.”
As if conjured by the mention of her name, Elizabeth’s voice floated through the air, calling for her fiancé. Both men turned to see her rushing toward them.
“I apologize for interrupting your pressing business, but I heard your mother asking, ‘Where is my son hiding now?’” Elizabeth imitated his aunt’s stentorian tones so perfectly that Darcy could not help but laugh. “She has arranged for you to dance with someone named Honoria Pigeon.”
Richard groaned. “She laughs like a horse and jabs my ribs with her elbow when we dance.” He regarded Elizabeth with chagrin. “If Mama hopes to persuade me to break our betrothal, Honoria Pigeon is not the means to accomplish it.”
Darcy laughed. “Perhaps you should make good your escape.”
Richard gave him a knowing look. “Indeed. As soon as I tell Elizabeth your news, I shall call for the carriage.”
Darcy bowed, said his farewells, and strode toward the French doors, now open to receive the evening breezes. Once inside the ballroom, however, Darcy hesitated. Some impulse toward self-torture caused him to turn back toward the veranda. Partially concealed by the draperies, Darcy could view Elizabeth and Richard quite clearly but not hear the words they exchanged.
Such covert actions were beneath him, but he felt compelled to it. Although he did not have the luxury of claiming the credit for helping Elizabeth’s family, he selfishly wished to witness her reaction to the news.
Richard spoke earnestly to her, clasping both her hands in his. Her eyes fixed on him anxiously as her teeth worried her lower lip. Then suddenly, her face transformed with joy, and she flung her arms around her betrothed’s neck. The relief and happiness etched on her features made Darcy’s every action worthwhile. She would never be his, but at least he had given her this gift.
He told himself sternly that it was time to depart, but he could not bring his body to move. He might as well have been carved from marble. Elizabeth’s slim body was clinging to Richard’s as she gazed at him, full of adoration. He did nothing to discourage the embrace, despite the public location. In fact, his hands tenderly caressed her back.
And then, his head descended toward hers, and he kissed her.
It was a brief brushing of the lips but enough to excite Darcy’s imagination. How would he feel to be the one kissing her? How would her body feel, pressed to his? Would her heart beat faster? Would Richard have gone further in a less public venue? Had he kissed her before? With greater passion? Richard gazed down at Elizabeth as if she were the air he needed to breathe. And Elizabeth, her fine eyes shining, clung to front of his coat, almost begging him to kiss her again.
Darcy could not pull himself away from the sight, even as it drove knives, one by one, excruciatingly slowly, into his heart. His eyes would not even close to shut away the view. He could only watch, transfixed, as the torture continued.
Richard kissed her again, more slowly and with more passion, drinking in the taste of her lips. One hand cradled her head and kept it pressed to his.
Darcy had kissed women. Enough to know something about the process. However, he had never known the kind of physical passion that approached what his cousin was experiencing at that moment—with the woman Darcy loved.
Richard ended the kiss after a matter of mere seconds and contented himself with gazing into her adoring eyes. What a fool, Darcy thought scornfully. She would have allowed him more liberties! He would have kissed her until she was gasping for breath. He would have touched her everywhere propriety would permit—and a few places it would not.
A black beast of jealousy descended over Darcy. He clutched at the velvet draperies with trembling hands so his body would not yield to the temptation to race onto the veranda and rip them from each other’s arms, demanding that Elizabeth accept him instead. He could challenge Richard to a duel, a time-honored method for ridding oneself of rivals. Then he could claim her for his own.
Darcy stood there for several long moments, attempting to control his racing heart and trembling body. He was a man, not a savage. He was Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley. He could master jealousy, not let it provoke him into destructive and rash actions.
Darcy was disgusted with himself, falling prey to these baser emotions. Lusting after his own cousin’s fiancée.
Finally, the happy couple broke apart and made their way toward the ballroom. Darcy was released to stumble away from the window. Staggering out of the ballroom, he no doubt convinced many guests he was in his cups. Within minutes, he had achieved the safety of his coach and was clattering back to Darcy House.
Choked and sickened, Darcy tore savagely at his cravat. He could not continue in this manner. He had believed his feelings to be under control, but tonight had demonstrated how thoroughly he had deceived himself.
He desperately needed a different solution. A more radical solution. And he needed it immediately.
***
Darcy was writing last-minute letters in his study, while Tucker packed away estate records into a trunk on the far side of the room. Without any warning, Richard burst through the door.
Darcy did not glance up. “You must have received my note.”
Richard brandished the paper at him. “Is this a joke?”
Darcy stood, folded his letter, and handed it to Tucker for posting. He waited until Tucker had departed to take the trunk up to the attic. “No,” he responded shortly.
“It must be,” Richard insisted.
“Look around you.” Darcy’s voice was calm.
His cousin glanced around. Covers had already been draped over most of the furniture. With one night remaining at Darcy House, only the bedrooms, dining room, and drawing room were still fully available for the family’s use.
“I do not understand!” Richard sputtered. Under other circumstances, Darcy might have found it amusing.
“I am closing up Darcy House,” Darcy patiently repeated what he had written in the note. “It will run on a skeleton staff. The remaining staff will travel to Pemberley. After staying at Pemberley for a week, we shall close it up as well. Then Georgiana and I will take a ship for America.”
Richard shoved his fingers through his already unruly brown hair. “Ju
st like that?”
“Indeed.”
“But why?” Richard was watching Darcy’s face a little too intently for his comfort.
“My father’s brother, my Uncle Clive, has invited us to visit him in Philadelphia.”
“Yes, yes, so you said in your note. But why now?”
If he only knew the true reason, he would happily purchase my passage himself.
Darcy shrugged. “I have always desired to see it, and Georgiana never had many opportunities to travel, since she was so young when our parents died.” Fitzwilliam was still frowning at Darcy, and he found himself staring down at his desk, rearranging the ink bottle and papers. His cousin’s gaze weighed upon him.
He struggled to keep his face blank. “It is also a good excuse for delaying Georgiana’s coming out. The idea of a debut frightens her. Time away from the concerns of the ton and the marriage market will be beneficial to her.” Richard’s shoulders relaxed fractionally, and some of his frown lines smoothed out. Darcy had hoped Georgiana’s debut was a reason his cousin would understand.
“But America is so far away!” Richard exclaimed.
And that is why it appeals. “Indeed. It was inconsiderate of them to put the country on another continent. But we shall not be gone long.”
Richard regarded him suspiciously. “How long is ‘not long?’”
-“We have no fixed departure date. A couple months, maybe. We will see how we like it and whether they have anything that resembles decent tea.”
“Months!” Richard cried. “You will miss the wedding.”
“I am afraid so,” Darcy murmured.
“Elizabeth will be disappointed.”
Darcy noticed his cousin carefully scrutinizing him. Had he flinched at the mention of her name? “You did change the wedding date,” Darcy observed.
Although Lydia and Wickham’s marriage had served to quell the worst of the scandal, rumors still circulated, and Richard’s parents had insisted that he and Elizabeth delay their wedding a few more months until the scandal abated. Darcy thought his cousin a fool for acquiescing. If Elizabeth agreed to marry him, Darcy would not rest until he had dragged her before an altar.
Pride and Proposals Page 5
