“The parlor is that way.” Mr. Buchanan pointed. “You know the way, Miss Bennet. I’ll see the story is spread,” he assured them again, in a whisper. With a smile and nod, he hurried toward his bar. Likely, he would sell many pints that day. By evening, the story Miss Bennet had come up with would be all over town and leaving on the stage with travelers, as would be the tale of Darcy fighting a duel over her.
He gestured for her to precede him. Miss Bennet’s reputation would be less easily mended than his sister’s, though she’d done nothing wrong while Georgiana had. Darcy shook his head as he followed her. That was society, full of pitfalls and foibles.
Darcy would set things right though, by making Miss Bennet his wife. An unexpected thrill went through him at the idea. He’d always expected to marry without love and for obligation, as he would now. He’d never expected this deep yearning to do so.
Chapter Eight – Proposal Planed
Darcy followed Miss Bennet into the private parlor, leaving the door open. She went to the far corner, away from both fireplace and windows, as Mr. Buchanan had recommended. As she sat, she pressed a hand to her side, pain momentarily sharpening her features.
“You’re hurt,” he said, worry stabbing at him.
“I shall be bruised, I’m sure. I knew I didn’t care for that pianoforte.” She offered a wry smile.
The pianoforte. She’d fallen into it when Wickham struck her. Anger filled Darcy. He turned toward the door, wondering where Wickham was. Perhaps another punch was in order. Or several to the ribs, so Wickham could know the pain he caused.
“Come sit.” Miss Bennet’s voice was quiet. “Tell me how Georgiana is.”
He looked between Miss Bennet and the door. Certainly, she was more pleasant company than Wickham, who was presumably with Mr. Matthews, writing. Darcy took a slow breath, tamping down his anger. A Darcy did not go charging off to punch people, no matter how much they deserved it. He crossed the room and took the chair beside Miss Bennet. In the hall, a servant passed by. He darted a quick look their way but didn’t slow.
“Georgiana is well,” he said. He stretched out his legs before him, realizing he was weary. So many hours spent in travel. Finding his sister gone. Reclaiming her. Racing off again to seek Miss Bennet the moment he knew Georgiana was safe.
“I’m assuming so. I can’t imagine you would leave her side if she needed you.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I would not. Not if I knew she did. She’s with our cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, in our home.” He studied Miss Bennet’s face. It would be her home soon. “Pemberley.” He stifled his mild disappointment that the name obviously meant nothing to her.
“I’m glad. She said she wished to return home.” She looked at him askance. “She assured me you would care for her. Assured me you would treat her well, no matter what her circumstance.”
“She was correct,” Darcy said, but he found her emphasis odd, especially coupled with the searching look she gave him.
Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Darcy wondered how he could move from the topic of Georgiana’s wellbeing to asking Miss Bennet to marry him. Speaking of Miss Bennet’s ruin seemed crass, as if he would threaten her into marrying him. Still, she must realize her circumstance. Was she waiting for him to offer?
He tugged at his cravat. He hadn’t expected to be so nervous. After all, he was helping her, in more ways than one. Not just her reputation saved, but a lifetime of wealth and security. “I wouldn’t have left Georgiana yet, but she was adamant I rescue you as soon as possible. She was worried Wickham would realize you’d aided her.”
“Yes, he seems to have pieced it together, and I’m grateful you intervened before he could strike me a second time. I don’t believe I would have been in physical danger if you hadn’t arrived, however.”
Darcy frowned. Wickham striking her was his fault? “Why do you say that?”
“The look on his face when he saw you, the one that made me turn to see who’d entered the room, and the way he made a third attempt when the second was met with your restraint,” she said. “He was provoking you to attack him. He wanted a duel.”
“You’re probably right,” Darcy said, and he’d given Wickham a reason for a duel. Darcy had uncharacteristically let emotion get the better of him. He’d already been angry on Georgiana’s behalf. Seeing Wickham strike Miss Bennet, that had been too much. No man could tolerate such an act. Even he didn’t possess the forbearance to let Wickham go unpunished.
Miss Bennet’s features took on a reproving cast. “You must realize my reputation is in shambles. Not because I stayed in an inn without a chaperone, but because a very public duel was fought over me.” She gave a slight shake of her head. “I can’t even counter it by claiming it was over Georgiana or her last name will be revealed.” She looked down at her hands. “Not to mention, I made it worse by watching. I shouldn’t have, but Mr. Wickham was so confident that I was concerned you might be killed.”
“I don’t think anything you did or didn’t do will have much effect on your reputation,” Darcy said. “Once the duel was fought, it wouldn’t have mattered if you hid. I should have insisted it be done properly, if at all. That may have mitigated the damage.” Also, Darcy realized, he could have let Wickham know how much his skills had improved. Wickham might have backed away from the duel. No, that wasn’t a good idea. Wickham would have picked pistols, and might have had a lucky shot.
Miss Bennet stared past him, out the open window on the far side of the room. Darcy could tell from the elongated rectangles of orange light and the cool breeze that sunset was upon them. Soon, candles would need to be lit for their conversation to continue, and the fire stirred to greater life.
Miss Bennet let out a small sigh. “It’s far too late for should have’s.” She turned her attention back to Darcy. “Although I appreciate your motives in protecting me from Mr. Wickham and punishing him, the result is not one I desired.”
It was an opening, but not one he could bring himself to use. Was there, though, any means of asking for her hand without dangling the threat of her ruin over her? Could a happy union begin in a way so akin to coercion? “You are correct, of course. Nor does it matter that the duel had little to do with you, that the enmity between myself and Mr. Wickham is longstanding.”
“Yes, Georgiana mentioned the living Mr. Wickham was to have.”
Darcy nodded. “I think that’s what spurred him to go after Georgiana.” Darcy should have realized Wickham would try something. He should have been prepared. “When my father died, Wickham received a legacy of one thousand pounds and the right to a living when it became vacant. When most of his money ran out, he asked for compensation to give up the right to the living. I admit, I was happy for the excuse to see him gone from our lives.” And naive enough to think he would be. “We agreed on three thousand pounds. When the incumbent died, Wickham demanded the living. I refused. That was about two months ago.”
“Was any of his anger justified?”
Darcy frowned at her. He was unaccustomed to people questioning his actions.
“Rather, was the living worth more than three thousand pounds?” she asked, her look assessing.
“Considerably more, but the incumbent died when he was forty-seven,” he said. “He was, as far as I know, perfectly healthy when Wickham gave up the living.”
She considered this for a long moment. Darcy was surprised by the urge to fidget, or offer a lengthier explanation. What did it matter if Miss Bennet found his behavior lacking? She was in no circumstance to be picky.
“It seems odd that he hated you for behaving as you did,” she finally said.
“He didn’t.” Darcy worked to keep relief from his tone. “He hated me because we were raised as brothers but his expectations were considerably less than mine.”
Again, his words were met with a contemplative silence. Darcy would never have imagined he would miss the fawning female chatter he was typically assailed by. Miss Benn
et, whose keen intelligence, care for Georgiana and beguiling looks already made her opinion matter to him more than most, seemed to be a person who gave thought to the words she spoke.
“Why did he think he could win with swords?” she asked.
“I assume he thought himself better.” Darcy shrugged.
“Did he have reason to think that?”
“In our youth he usually won, but our fighting styles were very different.” Darcy had the odd feeling he was being weighed, as if Miss Bennet sought to measure whether or not he was a braggart. “We always wore padding and masks, and Wickham would take risks one wouldn’t without that protection. I preferred to fight as if I didn’t wear gear. The boldness his tactic lent him often gave him the appearance of being better.” He offered another shrug. “On top of that, I routinely fence for sport and have had excellent instruction. Wickham probably assumed I hadn’t improved. For my part, I assumed he hadn’t continued to practice and that he would have lost some of his skill.” Wickham had a lazy streak to him, and practice was hard work.
She offered a slight smile. “I am glad you proved more correct in your assumptions than he was in his, and it was very chivalrous of you to right a wrong done to me, even if it wasn’t truly in my best interest for you to do so.” She looked away. “I hope my father or uncle will arrive within a few days. I don’t think your presence will help things.”
Was she dismissing him? Between Wickham’s raving about thirty thousand pounds and a myriad of other clues, she must realize he was wealthy. Most women would hurtle his folly in his face, a demand for marriage on its heels. Could she possibly imagine her relatives wouldn’t approve of him? “Will your family be very upset with you?”
“Some of them will be. It’s my hope my father and uncle, and older sister, will understand. If they don’t, they’ll have considerable justification. Not only because of my behavior, but my selfishness. Coming this far is expensive enough that the whole family will bear the brunt of it.”
So her family was not well off, which made Miss Bennet all the more of a conundrum. One he felt deeply compelled to unravel. “Do you have the paper I gave you?”
She offered a fleeting smile. “I could hardly have misplaced it so swiftly.”
“Look at it,” he said, watching her intently.
She took out the paper and broke the seal. “Fifty pounds?” She read further. “Twice a year? To be payed from a sum of two thousand pounds, put in my name.” She looked up. “You would have so readily handed over two thousand pounds?”
“My estate, not me.”
Far from appearing pleased or avaricious, she glared at him. Standing, she crossed to the fireplace and threw the page in. She took up a poker and applied it somewhat viciously. The page turned to ash in a swirl of bright flames her ministration stirred to life.
“I can’t help but feel that was foolish,” Darcy said, staring at the last curling bits of the page in surprise.
She replaced the poker and turned back to him, eyes bright with anger. “Foolish not to permit the man who fought a duel over me to give me an income? If you are so eager to give your money away, you can reimburse my father for the expenses he incurs due to me requiring retrieval. I will not accept anything more. Are you trying to ruin me completely?”
Her rebuke stung, all the more so because he hadn’t thought of it in that light. “I’ll be happy to pay his expenses. I apologize for offending you.”
She drew in a breath, smoothing her skirt. “And I apologize for my outburst. That was very generous of you as well, if misplaced.” She shook her head. “Do you specialize in misplaced attempts at kindness?”
Darcy had no notion how to respond to that. Did he indeed?
Miss Bennet came back to sit beside him. “I’m sorry. That was an attempt at humor. I can tell it fell flat.” She looked up at him with an apologetic smile.
Her eyes held wry wit. Her lips were slightly upturned. Now was the moment, he realized. He would make this enchanting creature his. This time, his attempt at kindness would be far from misplaced.
Her face folded into serious lines. She brought her hands together in her lap, clenching them tight. He sensed she was trying to come to a decision. Could she be contemplating pressing him to make up for the damage done to her reputation? He felt a pang of lose. As perplexing as her behavior was, it pleased him she hadn’t leapt at the chance to force his hand. Had burning the paper been a ruse, meant to bring him to asking? It had nearly worked.
“I’m worried about Georgiana,” she said, to Darcy’s surprise. “I know it’s not my place but there’s . . .” Miss Bennet shook her head, darting a glance at him. “You’re her guardian.”
Darcy attempted to reorder his thoughts. “I am, and I failed that responsibility. Completely.”
“And you will care for her no matter what?”
Leeriness overtook him. He took in Miss Bennet’s searching gaze and felt there was a truth he didn’t know. “I will.”
“It’s not my place to get involved, and I feel it’s possibly a betrayal for me to tell you this, but having met your sister, I fear she won’t have the strength to speak to you until the situation is beyond salvaging.” Miss Bennet drew in a deep, steadying breath. “There is the possibility Georgiana is with child.”
Darcy shot to his feet. Fury filled him to the point of rising from his chair to take some kind of action, any action. Wickham. He’d dared touch Georgiana. Darcy would fight another duel, risk pistols and shoot to kill.
He drew in a deep breath, seeking calm. No, the duel had been fought. He’d known the loss of Georgiana’s virtue was a possibility. He’d certainly considered it before she returned. What he hadn’t considered was that she would not be comfortable confiding to him about it.
“Mr. Darcy?” A hand touched his arm, feather light. “Do sit,” Miss Bennet urged. “You can’t run off and strangle him.”
Strangling. Yes, that would be more satisfying than shooting him. Darcy would like to throttle George Wickham. But the moment had passed. He was a man bound by laws. He would not stoop to Wickham’s level.
“Is everything well here?” Mr. Buchanan said, appearing in the doorway. He looked between Darcy and Miss Bennet, who turned to him.
“Perfectly well, thank you,” Miss Bennet said. “Mr. Darcy was about to seat himself. He didn’t mean to alarm anyone.” She offered a commiserating smile. “I’m afraid my words have spurred him into renewed anger toward Mr. Wickham, but we both realize a duel has been fought and the matter is concluded.”
Mr. Buchanan nodded, his expression turning a bit grim. “Aye, it is, though I can sympathize with wanting to revisit it. Rarely have I met a more disagreeable man than Mr. Wickham.” He shook his head. “Will you be playing tonight, Miss Bennet? Everyone’s been asking.”
“She will not,” Darcy said, the words coming out harsh as he fought for control of his anger. He cleared his throat. “That is, our business is not yet concluded. I’m not certain how much longer we shall be speaking here.”
Mr. Buchanan raised his eyebrows, gave Miss Bennet a considering look, and nodded. “I’ll send someone round to light the candles soon,” he said, and left.
“Please sit, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet repeated.
Darcy nodded. He unclenched his hands, movements stiff as he retook his place. She settled into the seat beside him, gaze assessing as always. He drew in a long, slow breath.
“You said you would care for her no matter what,” Miss Bennet said. “I took you at your word when I gave you that information.”
“Does anyone else know?” His words were clipped, his voice harsh. He couldn’t seem to get the rage coursing through him to subside. At least he should be able to suppress the outward signs of it. He was not a man who let others see when he was in danger of losing control.
She shook her head. “Only me, Georgiana and Mr. Wickham. I overheard them speaking of it, but no one else was near enough to do so.”
There was that to b
e thankful for, at least. He took another steadying breath. “I’m even more grateful, and impressed, that you were willing to help her, knowing so much of her circumstances.”
“She was miles from anyone she knew and without money.” She shrugged. “Someone had to aid her.”
“Yet by doing so, you placed yourself in a similar situation.”
“The Buchanans have been very kind.”
“Yes, but you couldn’t have known if you could trust them.” In that moment, few people seemed trustworthy to Darcy.
“I felt Georgiana’s need was great enough, and myself resourceful enough, to take that risk. I also had the Muirs’ assessment of Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan and this inn, as well as my own.”
Say what she would, Miss Bennet had risked her future to save Georgiana’s, all the while aware of the full extent of his sister’s folly. No wonder she hadn’t yet attempted to wring compensation from him. She wouldn’t condescend to that. His esteem for her grew by the moment. Was there another woman alive who would show such courage and kindness? “You saved her from a life of misery with a dissolute gambler, even though you knew how fully she’d committed herself.”
“Georgiana is very young,” Miss Bennet said, her voice soft. “I have a sister her age. It’s nearly impossible to undo a marriage, but I was sure, if she is with child and later decides she wishes to marry Mr. Wickham, the marriage could still take place. Stopping it closed no doors, while permitting it to occur slammed nearly every door shut. I admit, it did not seem to me as if she loved him, not from the moment I saw them together. I likely wouldn’t have intervened if I thought she had any chance of happiness.”
“She didn’t.” Wickham was a man whose selfishness ruined all he touched. “She’s fortunate he managed to alienate her before they actually married. I am grateful, not only to you, but that he was so arrogant as to think she wouldn’t object to him when he showed his true colors. Even with that, she would have married him if it weren’t for you.” Darcy reached out to capture her hand. “I will be forever in your debt, though I wish to make this up to you, Miss Bennet.”
Foiled Elopement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 7
