Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope of the Future: Darcy Saga Prequel Duo Book 2

by Lathan, Sharon

  “She did recover, although never fully. She was fragile, weaker, and easily exhausted. Life returned to normal more or less. The death of my grandfather happened that next year, a horrific blow for all of us, although that tragedy does not directly impact this topic. Nevertheless, it added to the stress on my mother. Father hovered over her constantly, his focus so intent that he ignored me and Georgiana, to a degree. I mean no accusation, as I understood it then and do so even more now, having fallen in love with you. Still, it was a puzzle to me. I was, you see, a precocious youth, always demanding knowledge, often about subjects beyond my comprehension. My father and grandfather encouraged my thirst for education. My mother and Mrs. Reynolds, conversely, were forever endeavoring to make me less serious and to laugh more—a vain effort, for the most part.”

  He chuckled at the remembrance and looked at Elizabeth for the first time since launching into his narrative. “Remember at Netherfield, when you teased me about being proud and that you ‘dearly loved to laugh’? It was as if my mother were in the room putting those words on your lips. You are so like her, Elizabeth. Wittier, perhaps a bit more caustic, but like you, she was amused by the smallest things. Even when ill, that did not change.”

  She smiled at him, her eyes warm and filled with love. It gave him hope that this conversation would not be the trial he feared or have a negative outcome. Leaning, he kissed her again, needing the strength found even in a glancing touch of her lips.

  “I digress,” he noted, clearing his throat. “The point was my curiosity. You see, as I observed the interactions between those married people in our family and social circles, I began to comprehend the differences. It isn’t the only subject I was inquisitive about, to be sure, as Mrs. Reynolds will delight in telling you.” He smiled wryly, then shrugged. “I began to understand that people married for many reasons—for security, to advance a position in society, pure lust, or to further a family line and inheritances. Despite aspects of validity to these reasons, none of them, if the sole reason, brings true happiness. My parents possessed true happiness. They were blessed, and it was because they loved each other. I was too young to fully grasp all of it, yet even then, I vowed to have a marriage like my parents.”

  Sitting back into the sofa, he leaned his head against the wall and again closed his eyes. Clasping Elizabeth’s hand tightly, he allowed the grief to creep into his voice.

  “I was seventeen when my mother died. Immediately after the funeral, my father retreated to his bedchamber. He did not emerge for a month, and when he did, he was a changed man. Gone was the light from his eyes, and the quick smile never reappeared. He had aged, his face deeply lined and hair shot through with gray. He sank deeper and deeper into an abyss. I know, without a doubt, that he would have died before that year was over if not for my Uncle George. A year after my mother’s death, my uncle arrived from India. I have no idea what he said or did, but somehow, he reached through the…well, the insanity of grief is the only apt description. Father never fully recovered and was never the same, but Uncle George brought him back to us for a while longer. I shall forever be grateful to him for that.”

  He had to stop talking or would succumb to the tears. Reliving the trials of those years was extraordinarily painful, yet it was the only way to explain his thinking, his choices in life, and why she could trust him to be faithful to her until his dying breath.

  A full five minutes had passed before he was capable of resuming the tale. “A sensible man would probably regard my father’s profound grief as a justification for avoiding all-consuming love. If so, then I am not a sensible man. Watching my father, even in his misery, heightened my resolve to have the same love.”

  He rose to his feet and walked to the window, but lost to memories, he saw nothing outside. “That next year I left for Cambridge. I had planned to go sooner, but mother’s death had put that on hold. It was the relief I needed in most respects. I had never gone to boarding school, due to my mother’s poor health, so university was a completely unique world for me. Exciting, yes, but also intimidating. I relished the education, of course. Learning is like breathing to me. It was in the social arenas where I failed. Spectacularly. I doubt you are astounded to hear me confess this.”

  He looked at her then, smiling when she laughed and shook her head.

  “Oh, my love, if you think I am bad now, imagine how I was ten years ago. I was incredibly naïve as having been quite sheltered. Pemberley is isolated, Lambton small, and between my parents preferring Derbyshire and mother’s ill health, journeys into London were rare. My previous exposure to large crowds and society was minimal, and then suddenly I was thrust into it. I have never made friends easily, and I enjoyed few of the entertainments the university men partook of. Gambling, drinking, carousing…none of it interested me. More to the point, I abhorred it. Men like Wickham, for example, consider those as the primary purpose for attending university. I was there for the education, a shocking thing to many, and spent my leisure in quieter pursuits. As now, I took pleasure in billiards, chess, fencing, and riding, of course. My friends were those gentlemen who were of like mind. Richard was my main companion, but others too, all of whom are still dear friends you will meet in due course.”

  Pausing again, he returned his sightless gaze to the window and rubbed the back of his neck. Dear God, help me to explain this properly without sounding the fool.

  “As for women…it would be a lie, Elizabeth, for me to claim I made a conscious vow of chastity. I felt no calling to be a man of the cloth or anything of the sort. I was a man in my prime, as the saying goes, with urges I very much longed to gratify. Honestly, I fully intended to do so somehow, somewhere, with someone. There were opportunities, many of them, but I refused to selfishly slake my appetites in a demeaning manner. My father taught me values and morals, and the example of my parents’ relationship and the only vow which I had made were never far from my thoughts.”

  “I had some vague notion of an acceptable situation outside of marriage, but what that was I cannot say. It certainly wasn’t what I saw from men like Wickham. They bragged of their sexual conquests, were lewd and crass—not my concept of how a gentleman behaved. There was never any affection or kind regard for the women they used, and the justification of the women being of a low station or…paid for made no sense to me. Were these men not as immoral and low if they partook in the activity? It disgusted me.”

  “Despite all of this, I was extremely happy at Cambridge. I loved those years and was sad to see them end. By the time I left, I had mastered the forbearance and temperance that are innate in my character. It was not easy, Elizabeth, I cannot pretend it was, but I had remained virtuous.”

  Beginning to believe this story would never end, Darcy started pacing. There was yet more personal tragedy and grief to relate.

  “Not two months after my return to Pemberley, my father unexpectedly collapsed. It was his heart, according to the physician, and a week later he died. There I was, twenty-two years old, with a devastated eleven-year-old sister and an enormous estate squarely upon my shoulders to manage. There are not words in the King’s English to describe how overwhelmed life became. Thank God for Mrs. Reynolds. She assumed charge over the household staff and upkeep, and Georgiana too. Mr. Wickham, my father’s steward, was a remarkable man. Without those two, along with Mr. Taylor and the rest of the staff and tenants, Pemberley would have fallen into a waste. I was an apt pupil, fortunately. Even after Mr. Wickham’s tragic death about six months later, I had learned enough to keep my head above water barely. Lord Matlock assisted me tremendously and found my current steward, Mr. Keith. It took a very long while, over two years, before I felt as if my feet were on solid ground and I could breathe again. I suppose the only positive to those horrific years was that minor concerns like sex were completely buried.”

  He laughed shortly and stopped pacing. He sensed Elizabeth’s eyes on him as he had talked, but her thoughts were a mystery. While he appreciated her keeping the promi
se not to interrupt, it was unnerving to have a one-sided conversation. Unsure what he would find, he pivoted about.

  Elizabeth sat on the edge of the sofa, hands folded in her lap, chin lifted and bright eyes gazing steadily. With relief, he saw love and sympathy in her face, but before it weakened his resolve to finish, he inhaled and plunged on.

  “It was about this time when subtle and not so subtle hints to enter Society came to my attention. New demands I had no desire to be a part of were placed upon my shoulders. It is my responsibility to interact with the ton, but God how I hate it! I’m not sure if you appreciate how much of an agony it is for me, Elizabeth—or was, I should say. I am still uncomfortable, introverted, and not well-skilled in conversing with people, but believe it or not, I am a charmer compared to how I was just five years ago.”

  She laughed at that, as he’d hoped, giving him the courage to wrap it up. Stepping closer, he got to the meat of it.

  “I learned to enjoy some of the social life. It can be entertaining, I admit. What I despised was the portion I was expected to focus on—finding a wife. With each passing year, the pressure increased. My problem was not a dearth of candidates, believe me. I was the perfect catch with wealth and position. I could have been married a dozen times over, Elizabeth, or had any of the multiple married women who blatantly offered themselves to me as a diversion from their boredom and empty marriages. I wanted none of them. I wanted what my parents had and despaired of ever finding it. I know it makes no sense, and probably any of the men I know would judge me insane or deficient somehow, but with every deceitful, insincere woman who was thrust into my path, wanting me only for my money, my physical desires faded away.

  “I began to believe I would never find what my parents shared, that such a love was not destined to be my fate. I knew I was growing bitter and weary, but I could not stop it. And, yes, I worried that something was wrong with me. At times my sexual needs would hit me, excruciatingly so, and I would teeter on the brink of doing something stupid. Not quite so stupid as marrying Caroline Bingley, but you get the idea.”

  Another spate of laughter, Elizabeth joining in even with her eyes swimming in tears.

  “Mainly, surprising even me, to be honest, I hardened my resolve. I told myself that if I could not find a woman to love, who loved me for me, then I would not marry. Future heirs and Pemberley be damned. I am a profoundly stubborn man, my love if you have not realized that already. Once I set a course, I am loyal to it.”

  He paused again, this time for effect. Setting his face into a somber expression, he stared gravely into her eyes.

  “What all of this meant to me, Elizabeth, is the unwavering conviction that if I were so fortunate as to find that elusive woman, I would be devoted, faithful, and enduringly thankful until my last breath, and hopefully on into eternity.”

  Crossing the remaining space between them, he knelt before her and enfolded her hands in his. “What this also means, in case you haven’t put it together, is that I am as chaste as you. Dearest, precious Elizabeth—I saved myself for you, long before I knew who you were or even if you existed. As trite as that sounds, it is the truth. My principles, my pride, if you wish, would not allow me to be with a woman unless I loved her and was married to her. Strange as that is, there you have it. Call me a hopeless romantic.”

  Reaching up to cup her wet cheeks, he whispered, “Now I can see that my decision to wait for you, to trust that you existed, was a worthy one. I have no doubts we shall be marvelous together, in every way, and especially in our lovemaking, even from the very start. How could it not be perfect, beautiful, rapturous? Furthermore, when I stand before God and vow to love and cherish you forever, to be faithful only to you, I will mean it with all my soul. I will never, ever want anyone but you, Elizabeth. This you must believe.”

  “I do!” She flung her arms around his shoulders, half falling into his body. If he hadn’t firmly balanced on his knees, they would have tumbled to the carpet. Upon later reflection, he wished they had, but at the moment, it was bliss to feel her happiness.

  “Thank you, William, for sharing your life with me. I know it was painful, and I am sorry for being so silly.”

  “Do not apologize, love. Promise me you will never apologize for talking to me about any subject. It is my mistake for being so guarded.” He squeezed her tighter, then withdrew just enough to meet her eyes. “Elizabeth, you must also trust that I would never force myself upon you in any way. Your wishes, requirements, desires…everything and anything to make you happy are of paramount importance to me. I cannot fathom our relationship ever disintegrating so that we do not desire each other, physically or otherwise. But whatever may happen, I will respect you and never cause you harm—”

  It was her turn to interrupt, doing so with a kiss. Further vocalizations were mostly monosyllables, the only string of words being multiple “I love you” declarations.

  12

  Supreme Temptation

  Two more days. Elizabeth will be my wife in two more days.

  Darcy stared at the calendar atop his desk, a smile spreading simply by seeing the ink circle marking November the twenty-eighth. Each morning for nearly two months he had crossed off the previous date yet had often felt as if the wedding day grew no closer. Now, finally, the day his heart and soul would be complete was almost here.

  Hopefully, these final forty-eight hours will not crawl so slowly it feels as if the clock is turning backwards.

  Standing, Darcy stretched and yawned. As he did every morning immediately upon rising from his bed, the drapes had been drawn open, so he could survey the weather. Not a cloud was visible in the whole expanse of the vibrant-azure sky. If one did not know it was late November, the brilliant sunlight would have deceived. Evidence of winter was there on closer inspection, of course, as was the aftermath of the heavy rains in the dozens of muddy puddles and temporary ponds.

  The horrendous storm which caused him troubles had left a wake of disasters over a substantial portion of Hertfordshire, northern London, and the southern tip of Buckinghamshire. The newspapers yesterday and that morning reported flooding, roads washed out, lightning strikes with resulting fires, injuries, and, tragically, deaths. He should never have let his selfishness overrule common sense. He had risked his own safety—a foolishness Elizabeth had reminded him of several times yesterday—but far worse was the peril he had forced upon his servants. It was sobering, and he would not forget the lesson learned.

  However, Darcy was not the type of man to flagellate himself. These were the last two days of their betrothal season, and while he would gladly welcome the miracle of the hours zipping by, since that was improbable, he planned to make the best of it. What that would entail, he had no idea. Then he remembered that today, or certainly by tomorrow, wedding guests would descend upon Longbourn and Netherfield. Boredom was unlikely.

  Sure enough, before noon both households were welcoming visitors: the Gardiners arrived at Longbourn, and the Matlocks, with Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam, descended upon Netherfield. The women at Longbourn were consumed with creating the flower bouquets, the endeavor likely to take the entire day, so Darcy had been warned. Resigned to this reality, the Longbourn servant delivering a missive from Miss Elizabeth shortly after two o’clock was unexpected. Grinning, he instructed Georgiana to hastily grab her coat and bonnet for a trip into Meryton. Thrilled, she did so without question, Richard coming along as well, and a half hour later the four of them were strolling along the wooden walkways of the modest village with Elizabeth as a guide.

  “A ribbon crisis? That is what you fabricated to get out of the house?”

  “Whatever do you mean, Mr. Darcy?” Lizzy declared, brows high and eyes wide and innocent. She even patted her heart and added a gasp of shock. “Are you suggesting I misplaced an entire box of ribbons on purpose?”

  “No! No, of course not. How silly of me! Forget I said a word.” Darcy pressed her hand firmly against his arm, sighing sorrowfully. “I only pr
ay the draper has more in stock. We cannot proceed with the wedding without the full complement of ribbons.”

  “Oh, I am sure he does! Besides, these missing things usually do turn up. In fact, I suspect someone at Longbourn has stumbled across them by now. Probably my aunt Gardiner. She is cannily akin to a bloodhound in locating misplaced objects.”

  Laughing, they enjoyed the short respite as thoroughly as they could under the time constraints imposed by last-minute wedding preparations. Georgiana was charmed by the village, although her enthusiasm was mainly in being with Elizabeth. The short trip ended with an even briefer pause at Longbourn to introduce Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy to the Bennets. That meeting went predictably.

  By the time Darcy, Richard, and Georgiana returned to Netherfield, the Hursts and Caroline Bingley had arrived.

  “Terrific,” Darcy muttered grumpily upon espying the familiar coach in the drive. It was a sentiment of which neither Colonel Fitzwilliam nor Miss Darcy could disagree.

  As per the agenda for the final days and evenings, the brides and grooms would honor tradition by not seeing each other after sundown on the eve of the wedding, meaning they would dine apart. For tonight, however, Mr. Bingley had offered to host at Netherfield. It was the sensible choice, presuming the likelihood of some of their families arriving that day. As it turned out, everyone arrived that day. It was, for all intents, a prewedding reception.

  When the dust finally cleared, and the last visitor had departed with the rest retired to their guest quarters, the grooms and Richard Fitzwilliam met in Bingley’s private sitting room.

  “Well, that went swimmingly, I’d say.” Richard handed a brandy to Darcy, who grunted, then took a large swallow.

  “As swimmingly as in a river of piranhas.”