Darcy's Charade

by Meghan Parrish

  Swiftly she took the money in one hand, put her inlaid box of souvenirs aside and ran downstairs to find Darcy.

  Elizabeth knew that on most afternoons Darcy was in his study, dealing with business of his estate signing letters from his steward or going through important papers. She made her way directly there and knocked timidly on the door.

  "Come in!" Darcy called.

  Elizabeth entered nervously. Whatever would she do if he had company? However, she was relieved to see that he was alone.

  "Good afternoon," she said.

  Darcy turned his head smartly.

  "Good afternoon," he responded.

  "I have a problem," Elizabeth stated.

  "What is it?"

  "I have found fifty pounds in my inlaid box."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. Really."

  Already his attitude was annoying her.

  "That is not a problem though, surely?" he asked.

  "Yes it is," Elizabeth insisted.

  Darcy's eyebrows rose. "I would have called it a piece of good fortune," he commented.

  "I thought you might," Elizabeth returned between clenched teeth.

  Darcy shrugged uncomprehendingly.

  "You put it there, didn't you?" Elizabeth accused.

  Darcy gave her a wide-eyed innocent look.

  "I put it there?" he echoed. "Why ever should I do a thing like that?"

  Elizabeth was not taken in by his apparent astonishment.

  "Why indeed?" she countered, glaring at him.

  "Miss Bennet," he queried, "what on earth are you so angry about?"

  "I thought we agreed that I was not to be paid."

  "Yes, we did. And?"

  "And you deceived me!"

  "I did not."

  "Yes, you did."

  "No, I didn't," he corrected. "I have paid you nothing."

  "What is this then?" Elizabeth demanded, waving the money under his nose.

  "I assume that is the money you told me you found in your inlaid box."

  "Yes. And you put it there!"

  "Did I?"

  "Yes, you did."

  "What did I do that for?"

  Elizabeth was too agitated to answer him. She knew that he was playing with her. If he had not put the money in her box he would have reacted differently. But his refusal either to admit it or deny it convinced her that her original assumption had been correct.

  "I will not take it!" Elizabeth spluttered. "I will not!"

  Darcy seemed genuinely puzzled. "Why not?" he questioned.

  "Because it is not mine."

  "But you found it in your inlaid box, so it must be yours," he pointed out.

  "No. It isn't. There was no money there when I left..."

  She stopped herself in the nick of time from saying Longbourn, and concluded instead,"...home."

  "Perhaps there was," he suggested. "Perhaps it was there all along and you only just noticed it."

  Elizabeth stamped her foot in rage. "You know perfectly well that is not true!" she cried.

  "I know nothing of the kind," he responded. "I only know that you are extremely angry, and I cannot conceive why."

  "You...." Elizabeth gasped with fury.

  "Anyone else would have blessed their lucky stars at finding fifty pounds tucked away in some old box or other, and taken it without asking any questions," Darcy told her. "But you! You behave as if you had been robbed of all you possess, including your good name!"

  "I insist you take it back!" Elizabeth cried, holding the money out to him.

  His lips drew into a thin line. "Miss Bennet," he answered grimly, "you don't seriously imagine that I am going to accept fifty pounds from you, do you?"

  Elizabeth's bosom was heaving with indignation. "I will not be a kept woman!" she exclaimed.

  "As I said earlier, you are not a kept woman," he assured her. "You are my cousin, who is living with me, has discovered fifty pounds in her possession, and is making an unbelievable fuss about it."

  This was too much for Elizabeth. She turned and ran out of the room, still clutching the money in her hand. By the time she reached her bedroom, tears were flowing freely. As soon as she entered, she slammed the door behind her and threw herself and the money down on the bed.

  Elizabeth trembled uncontrollably. What she had not been able to explain to Darcy was that she did not want him to think he had to pay her for what she was doing. She had played the part of his cousin because she had wanted to. She had not considered receiving wages, like a governess or a scullery maid or...

  And fifty pounds! Enough to keep her well fed for months!

  "Oh, how could he!" she moaned aloud.

  After a while, Elizabeth managed to stop shaking. She sat up, dried her eyes and stared at the notes which she had scattered inadvertently across the counterpane. She couldn't take them.

  It was improper and indecent. She was right; he was wrong. There was only one thing to be done with the money, and that was to return it.

  "Why won't he see that?" she asked aloud. "Why won't he understand that I cannot stay here once I accept money from him?"

  Elizabeth sighed "I shall have to go away and start looking for a job," she reflected.

  She sighed again. What a pity Darcy had been so stubborn and childish about the money. If only he had admitted that he put it there and agreed to take it back. Now she had to leave him.

  Elizabeth sighed for the third time. She felt miserable about departing. She had been so happy here. It wasn't only the balls and the soirees, nor even the lovely clothes—it was Mr. Darcy himself.

  When she was with him, she came alive. Here she thought she had misjudged him. That he was indeed a kind and honorable gentleman.

  "I am going to miss London," she murmured to herself.

  She grimaced. She could not stay here as a working girl, after everything that had happened.

  She would have to find somewhere else to go. But where?

  And how would she get the money to pay for her journey? All she had in the world were the few shillings she had saved by traveling as an outside passenger on the coach to London. It was scarcely enough to take her out of the city, let alone finance her entire trip back to Hertfordshire.

  For the fourth time, Elizabeth sighed unhappily.

  The longer she delayed in packing, the harder it would be.

  She forced herself to bring her valise out of the cupboard. Slowly, unwillingly, she began to put her old dresses in it. She fingered the exquisite gowns Darcy had insisted on purchasing for her with more than a hint of regret. But she left them hanging there.

  She decided not to take anything he had given her.

  She bit her lip. It would not be easy, but from somewhere she would find the strength of will to leave everything behind.

  Where would she go?

  A knock at the door only half aroused her from her revere.

  "Come in!" she called absently, still turning the problem over in her mind.

  The door opened and someone entered.

  Elizabeth pursed her lips as she mentally enumerated the possible places she might visit.

  Suddenly, something made her look up. She gave a tiny gasp when she saw who was standing on the threshold.

  Darcy gazed at Elizabeth's open valise with a mixture of astonishment, distrust and disapproval.

  "What are you doing?" he queried.

  "Packing," Elizabeth responded tersely.

  Darcy closed the door behind him with a snap, causing Elizabeth to jump.

  "Why?" he wanted to know.

  "I should have thought that was obvious," she stated. "I am leaving."

  In two strides Darcy had crossed the floor to where she was standing.

  "Why?" he demanded harshly.

  "Because...I will not be treated like a servant," Elizabeth stammered.

  "Who has treated you like that?"

  "You have."

  "I have not!"

  Elizabeth's heart was doing fearful
leaps, but she was determined not to give in.

  "Yes you have," she managed to whisper.

  She lowered her eyes automatically as she spoke in an attempt to hide herself away from him. But he forced her head up ruthlessly, and she was powerless to resist.

  His gaze was relentless. He seemed to have sapped her strength with the sheer magnitude of his passion, and his eyes bored into hers as if he were seeking her very soul.

  Elizabeth trembled, but at the slightest movement, his grasp tightened. His hands, which always before had been protective, seemed suddenly to be made from iron and his touch, usually so gentle, was merciless.

  "How?" Darcy asked in the same harsh voice. "How have I treated you like a servant? By giving you a paltry fifty pounds?"

  Frightened as she was by the violence of his emotion, and unable to understand the cause, Elizabeth determined not to surrender.

  "You made me take fifty pounds from you," she corrected.

  As she finished speaking, she realized she was shaking like a leaf.

  I am going to faint.

  She closed her eyes. The room seemed to swim around her. She felt giddy and she could no longer bear to look at Darcy. Indeed, she hardly recognized him anymore. Never had she seen a man's countenance alter from serenity to that of passion so completely. Or swiftly!

  Vaguely, Elizabeth recollected her mother worrying over her youngest sisters who did not know any better landing themselves in situations they could not handle.

  Elizabeth waited tensely for Mr. Darcy to speak again. There was a long pause. Elizabeth did not dare to say anything more herself in case she inadvertently provoked him further, but she found the silence almost unbearable.

  At last, she heard him.

  "And for this you are packing?" he questioned. "For this you are...leaving me?"

  Elizabeth's mouth was dry and her heart was pounding frantically.

  "Yes," she breathed.

  There was another long pause.

  Elizabeth noticed the change in his tone. She glanced across at him, apprehensive and bewildered.

  "Believe me, Miss Bennet," he said quietly. "I have never thought of you as a servant."

  "Then why did you give me the money?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

  A whimsical smile played about his lips. The arrogance had vanished, and Elizabeth seemed to detect a certain pain in his eyes.

  "I wanted to give you fifty pounds to spend and to enjoy yourself with," Darcy answered. He reached out one hand and traced a line lightly down her cheek. "I had no idea I would have such a fight with you about it."

  Elizabeth cast her eyes demurely down. "You should have realized," she murmured.

  "Yes," he agreed bitterly. "I should have."

  Silence.

  Darcy sighed mournfully. "Well, I will take it back if it will make you happier," he stated.

  Elizabeth bit her lip with uncertainty. Should she reply? And if so, how?

  She was nervous. This sudden alteration in his mood had come as a shock to her. She was afraid if she said the wrong thing she would conjure the defiant Darcy once more.

  Presently Darcy spotted the money still scattered across the counterpane.

  "Is this it?" he questioned.

  Elizabeth's glance went automatically towards the bed.

  "Yes," she answered.

  She remained where she was with her eyes fixed firmly on the carpet at her feet, while he collected the various notes, folded them and put them in his waistcoat pocket.

  "And now," he inquired, "would you mind, very much unpacking?"

  Elizabeth swallowed. She could feel his gaze boring into her as it had done earlier, with an intensity that unnerved her. She continued to stand where she was, with her hands folded in front of her and her lashes sweeping her cheeks.

  "I shall consider it," she heard herself say.

  As she spoke, she became aware that Darcy was moving across the floor, causing the floorboards underneath the carpet to creak with each step that he took.

  Elizabeth's heart started to leap and bound as though she had been running hard. She was breathless with a kind of wild excitement which she did not fully comprehend.

  Seconds later, Darcy's hands were on her arms, and remembering the previous occasion when his steel-like fingers had bitten into her flesh, she stiffened.

  But it was not to be the ruthless iron hold he had exerted earlier. He caressed her with a tenderness that made her want to swoon with joy, and this time she did not resist him as he tilted her head upwards so that his lips could meet hers.

  Elizabeth started at Darcy's touch. She had not expected that kind of kiss from him. After the furious passion he had displayed, she imagined that he would be rough, that he would bruise her mouth with kisses that burned like fire. But the pressure of his lips was light and cool, like ice. Ice on a feverishly hot day.

  Elizabeth had had no idea that anything like this existed. She might have been a traveler in the desert who had been searching for water for days and had unexpectedly discovered an oasis deep in melting snow. How could she so be thirsty for more?

  Darcy held Elizabeth close, for what seemed an eternity. She did not realize that her hands had wound themselves around his neck and that she was clinging to him. Nor did it occur to her that she was responding to him with a fervor that no member of her family would have guessed she had in her.

  Presently Darcy relinquished his grip, disengaged her hands and stepped away from her. Then, without a word, he left her room.

  Elizabeth swayed after he had gone. Her feelings were in such a turmoil that she seemed to have no strength in her limbs and she had to lean against the bedpost in order to steady herself.

  Her world was suddenly topsy-turvy. She was confused by her emotions as well as by what had happened. A thousand questions rose in her mind and ten thousand half formed answers replied.

  "Why?" she said aloud. "Why had he come in? Why had he been so angry? Why had he? Why?"

  Her hand traced the imprint of his lips on hers and she gave a low murmur of contentment as she relived his kisses. Then, almost without realizing what she was doing, she began to unpack.

  Chapter Twelve

  As she had promised herself, Elizabeth wrote at the end of the month to Jane at Longbourn, to say that she was well. She did not know how her letters were received. However, though she was curious about that, she still did not put her address on her missives and, therefore, she did not expect a reply.

  Hastily, she folded her letter and sealed it. As she waited for the ink on the address to dry, the door opened and Darcy came in.

  Swiftly, Elizabeth whipped the envelope out of sight. It must be hidden. Otherwise he would find out where she lived in Hertfordshire before they met.

  "Is something the matter?" Darcy questioned. "No. Nothing," Elizabeth replied.

  "Sure?" Darcy persisted.

  "Quite sure," Elizabeth responded. "Why?"

  "You looked solemn."

  Elizabeth smiled. "I was feeling solemn," she returned. "But it is all right now."

  Inwardly, she heaved a sigh of relief. He had not noticed the letter.

  "Good."

  Elizabeth stood to feet and Darcy surveyed her attire.

  "You like it?" Elizabeth inquired.

  "Very much," he responded.

  "But?"

  He smiled. "It needs something to set it off," he remarked pensively.

  "Does it? What for instance?"

  "Pearls."

  "Oh," Elizabeth said grimacing.

  "You don't agree?"

  "No."

  "I suppose that is because it will mean wearing a gift from me. Am I right?"

  Elizabeth lowered her eyes. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing her admit that he was. And though his gifts were exquisite, every time she put on even the most insignificant item, she experienced a sense of guilt...as if she had stolen them.

  Darcy laughed. "Dear cousin," he said teasingly. "You are
quite stubborn, are you not?"

  "I am not!" Elizabeth contradicted angrily.

  "Yes you are," he retorted, looking as if he would kiss her any moment and making her whole body sing.

  Cold silence.

  "Humor me," Darcy besought her. "Wear the pearls."

  "I will not."

  "Please," he requested.

  Elizabeth stiffened. She averted her eyes so that he would not see how completely enthralled she was by him.

  "Very well," she acceded.

  * * * *

  The ball to which they were invited was attended by most of London society, and neither Elizabeth nor Darcy had a spare moment to themselves. He made his position imperative that he would under no circumstance dance with any lady present, while she, lovely as she was in her sea blue satin evening dress trimmed with a border of forget-me-nots and covered with the most elegant pale blue gauze, was never without a partner.

  It wasn't until nearly midnight that there was a lull in the dancing for Elizabeth and she went to the edge of the ballroom floor, intending to sit down. However, to her horror, she saw Caroline Bingley bearing down on her.

  To her relief, someone else invited her to dance and Elizabeth accepted the offer without even glancing at her rescuer. Anything to get away from Caroline and her blatant attempts to probe her secrets.

  It was only when they were out on the dance floor that Elizabeth looked properly at her partner. As she recognized him, she gave a gasp of astonishment.

  "Why, Mr. Wickham!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing here?"

  "I'm on official business," George Wickham informed her.

  "Pardon?"

  "I'm a soldier, my dear Miss Bennet," he explained, "and I have been posted to London for a few weeks."

  "Oh?"

  "Pray, don't tell anyone, will you? Especially that conceited lout, Mr. Darcy."

  "Mr. Wickham!" Elizabeth cried. "Don't be so cruel!" she teased.

  Wickham smiled. "And what, may I ask," he inquired as he twirled her around, "are you doing here?"

  "That is a long story," Elizabeth answered.

  "I can imagine!"

  "What does that mean?"

  "Your sudden disappearance from Hertfordshire caused quite a stir, you know."

  Elizabeth uttered a tiny cry. "I didn't realize anyone would notice outside my family," she stammered.