If she married Mr. Darcy, she would likely still be a distant scandal, but a well-placed and wealthy relation nonetheless. What’s more, if he was to be believed, her mother and sisters would live in greater comfort if her father died.
Elizabeth’s mind was still in turmoil when she climbed into bed beside Jenny later that evening. She rubbed her aching side. Her head throbbed. New fear crept in.
Mr. Wickham had sought her out. Not because she could bring Georgiana back, but because he blamed Elizabeth. His motive must have been revenge. The duel had likely added to Mr. Wickham’s anger, and Elizabeth doubted her father would be adequate protection. For all he’d failed Georgiana, Mr. Darcy would certainly be better able to guard Elizabeth from Mr. Wickham. Fear was a poor motivation for marriage, but the pain she was in was a strong reminder that Mr. Wickham meant her harm.
Elizabeth’s mind was too full for rest. She drifted in and out of sleep, fitful. The only constant during the long night was an image of Mr. Darcy, his eyes full of an intense emotion strangely reminiscent of affection, though he’d spoken of none. The only peace Elizabeth had all that night was when his visage fixed before her mind’s eye, his handsome face rendered even more so by one of his rare smiles.
Chapter Ten - Elopement Begun
At dawn, Darcy gave up on the pretense of sleep. He rose and dressed with greater care than usual, hoping it was his wedding day. He hadn’t expected to approach the fateful day with such anticipation, or nervousness. He’d expected a calculated, mutually beneficial joining of two well-connected and wealthy houses.
He brought everything to his proposed union with Miss Bennet, yet he found himself unexpectedly nervous, and hopeful. He couldn’t comprehend the hold she had over him. All he knew was that, after traveling with her image as his companion for days, to finally set eyes on her and find her even more beguiling than the drawing, had stunned him. If it hadn’t, Wickham wouldn’t have landed even a single blow.
It didn’t occur to him until he was on the staircase that the word early meant different things to different people. He entered the common room to find her seated alone at a table with a cup of tea and a plate of toast, which looked untouched. Catching sight of him, she offered a tentative smile.
Darcy crossed to her, bowing. “May I?” he asked, indicating the chair across from her.
“You may.”
He sat. Mr. Buchanan hurried over with more tea, more toast, and a sufficiently curious look that Darcy assumed the innkeeper knew what he’d asked of Miss Bennet. Darcy raised his eyebrows. Across from him, she shrugged.
She was silent while he fixed his tea. She sipped hers, still making no move to eat. Darcy lifted his cup, then set it down again. It was impossible to drink tea with the question that hung between them.
“Have you decided?” He cleared his throat, for his voice had come out in a husky rumble.
The look she gave him was grave. “I have, but there are several details we will need to clear up, most of a sensitive nature.”
Darcy mulled that over, trying to suppress a grin. “That sounds like a yes.”
“Provisionally.” She rubbed at her side, then seemed to realize what she was doing and stopped.
Darcy’s joy at her acceptance was dampened by a renewed desire to hunt Wickham down. He took a sip of tea, to buy time to rein in his anger. After all, the object of it was not before him, Miss Bennet was. “Are any of these details areas you expect we will be unable to come to an agreement on?”
She grew contemplative. “They are not. I feel we are both reasonable.”
“Then may I suggest we set out? We may discuss any lingering topics on our journey.” He had the oddest inclination to hold his breath as he waited for her reply. Once she entered his carriage with him, alone, there was no turning back.
She shook her head. “There are some things we must speak of here.”
“Such as?” he asked, aware he wasn’t hiding his displeasure well.
She drew in a slow breath. “For one, I’m agreeing in large part because all I know of you so far suggest to me that you are a man who will be kind to his wife.” Serious, assessing eyes met his squarely. “If that is not the case, please inform me now.”
She was afraid, he realized. Why wouldn’t she be? In what she’d done for Georgiana, he had indisputable proof of what nature of person Miss Bennet was. She had only the little she’d seen of him to go by. A man who’d let his sister be absconded with, by a man he knew to be a bounder, no less. A man who’d rashly fought a duel that had ruined her. As for the rest of it, she had only his word and Georgiana’s assurance he would care for her.
Darcy reached across the table and captured Miss Bennet’s hand. Her eyes went wide, but she didn’t pull away from him. “Miss Bennet, I know you have only my word in this, but believe me when I tell you, not only do I plan to be kind to you, but to cherish you.” How else could he treat the woman who’d saved his sister?
Miss Bennet looked down at their clasped hands, coloring slightly. “I will bear that in mind.”
“What else may I reassure you on?” he asked.
“If possible, I should like us to be married in a church by a clergyman.” She looked up, eyes still wide. “I know that’s not a legal requirement in Scotland, but I would prefer it.”
“I would also,” Darcy said. “I can’t guarantee it, but I will make an effort.”
She squared her shoulders, slipping her hand from his. “Also, I should like us to have many witnesses to the wedding. I don’t want to be in a position of not being able to prove I am married.”
Darcy pulled his hand back, offended. Was she implying he would change his mind? Worse, that he would go through the motions of being wed and then cast her aside later?
“I can see you are offended, but consider my position, sir,” she said. Her lips turned up in a wry smile. “I understand if your offense is so great that you no longer wish to marry.”
He gave her an assessing look. A test? A true fear? Did it matter? “On the contrary. I believe it is an excellent idea. I, also, wouldn’t want to be in a position where the legality of our union could be questioned. My marriage is of sufficient importance that there should be witnesses.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Well, my marriage is of sufficient importance to me,” she said sharply.
“Do you have a plan for procuring these witnesses?” he asked, equally sharp.
“How much are you willing to pay? You’ve made it clear on several occasions that money means little to you.” Her voce was cold.
Darcy lifted his teacup and set it down again. He leaned forward, frowning. “Are we arguing?”
She clamped her mouth closed. After a moment, she shook her head. “Let me rephrase. Can you get a large quantity of small coins? I’m talking about pennies and less.”
In answer, he stood and left the room, seeking calm while he walked. Finding his servants in the foyer, loading his carriage, he gave one the job of assembling the coins. He returned to find Miss Bennet had torn a piece of toast into small bits on her plate. He pulled out his char and sat. “Anything else?”
She nodded. “I should like to stop here overnight on our return. If my family is looking for me, I would like to make sure we don’t pass them by. If they are not here, I should like time to write to them.”
“That should only cost us a few hours,” he said. “I see no reason we wouldn’t be able to do so. I shall make the arrangements.” They would only need one room, he realized, on the return journey. She may have come to the same conclusion, for she blushed again, dropping her gaze. “Is there more?”
She looked up, her nervousness clear. “Where will we be going after we wed, may I ask?”
Any lingering annoyance Darcy held for her previsions evaporated. She was placing a great deal of trust in him. “To Pemberley, in Derbyshire.”
She nodded, standing. “I think the rest would be best discussed in the privacy of your carriage.”
He raise
d his eyebrows, but stood as well. “I will meet you here once I arrange for our room tonight and collect the coins you requested.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was steady, but her cheeks rosy with heat. She left.
Darcy watched her go, then went to make the arrangements. A short time later, he went out and found Miss Bennet waiting for him, looking composed. They descended the steps. He handed her into the carriage himself and he turned and smiled at him.
He was surprised how much that small gesture heartened him. He climbed in and took his place beside her. Her diminutive form didn’t even cover half the seat. Darcy rapped on the ceiling and they set out. His eyes came to rest on the rolled up drawing resting on the other seat.
They rode in silence through the town. He had the windows closed against the dust, and hoped the day wouldn’t grow too warm. He didn’t permit himself to turn to her until they were on the open road, the motion of the wheels a steady rumble. Even in the dimness of the carriage, Miss Bennet was beautiful.
“What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to the rolled paper across from them.
Darcy offered a slight smile, reaching for it. “My travel companion for the last several days.” He unfurled it, revealing her seated at the pianoforte in three-quarter profile.
She frowned, obviously confused, before understanding eased the expression. “Georgiana’s drawing?” Her voice held awe. “I hadn’t seen it. She’s very talented, isn’t she? It’s beautiful.”
“No more beautiful than her subject.” He let it roll back shut, observing her blush. “You are not accustomed to being told you’re beautiful? This surprises me.”
She put a hand to her hair, patting it to make sure it was in place, and winced as she hit the spot where Wickham struck her. “Because I am not. I am sharp, and witty.” She offered a shrug. “My sister Jane is sweet and beautiful. If you’d ever seen her, you wouldn’t be in this carriage with me.”
He angled toward her, to look her in the eye, their knees touching. “I assure you, I would be.” To emphasize the point, he took her hand.
Miss Bennet gave a nervous laugh. “You only say that because you haven’t seen her.”
“I say that because your beauty is the most alluring I’ve ever set eyes on.” Did she really think so little of her charms? It was refreshing, after the women he was accustomed to. When before had he met a female who touted herself more for her mind than what her form had to offer?
He looked down at her hand, clasped in his. She wore her gloves now, as did he. He resented the double layer of fabric between them. Releasing her, he shed his. She watched with those beautiful, luminous eyes as he recaptured her hands, one at a time, and peeled off her gloves. He ran his thumb over her knuckled, smoothing her silk-like skin, but that wasn’t enough. He raised her hand and kissed it. He could feel the staccato beat of her pulse in her slender wrist.
“That brings up the other thing,” she said, her voice low and breathless.
“Other thing?” If he tried to kiss her, would she let him? She had perfect, pink, bow shaped lips. They called to him, a siren’s call.
“Yes, that we must discuss.” She swallowed, nervous again.
Darcy caressed her hand, trying to focus on her words. She wished to discuss something before they married. How important could it be, though? She was already in his carriage with him. He dropped his gaze from her lips to watch the rapid rise and fall of her breath.
“Mr. Darcy?”
With effort, he returned his attention to her eyes. “I believe the mister and miss may be dropped now, don’t you, Miss Bennet?”
“Georgiana called you Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy leaned back against the seat, breaking all contact but their clasped hands. “She calls me that, and you are welcome to if you insist, but my friends call me Darcy. I should like if you would.”
“And I should like you to call me Elizabeth, Mr. . . . that is, Darcy.”
“Elizabeth,” Darcy repeated, trying the name. “What is it you wished to speak to me about in the privacy of our carriage?” He could tell by the way she stilled that she noted his use of “our.”
“It’s . . . that is . . .”
He didn’t need to look to know she was blushing again. He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “What is it?”
“If much of the reason we’re wedding at this time is to shelter Georgiana from the repercussions of what she’s done, well, we cannot do anything that would jeopardize that.”
He frowned, unable to gather her meaning from her rambled words. “Jeopardize that?”
“May I be plain?”
“Please.” Before his head began to throb.
“We cannot have a child,” she said, her words firm. “If Georgiana is pregnant and we mean to raise the baby as ours, we cannot have a child for nearly two years. Therefore, we cannot do that thing which would result in a child for at least nine months, but I should think twelve would be more advisable.”
Not do that thing? Darcy didn’t look at her, so she wouldn’t see the extent of his disappointment. Somewhere between getting Elizabeth to say yes to his proposal and removing her gloves, he’d forgotten that detail. “No, of course not. All the more reason to have many witnesses, for it’s possible we will both be able to swear the marriage is not consummated for some time to come.” A year? A year with his beguiling new wife by his side but not in his bed?
No, that wouldn’t do. There would be too much talk. It would be noticed. At the inn that night, for instance. They must share a chamber, at least. “However, I feel we must give the world the impression our union is complete. If we must claim a child, there must be no suspicion we couldn’t have produced one.”
“Yes, you are correct.” She darted a glance at him. “And that means?”
“We should share a chamber, at least some of the time.” Worse than a year with Elizabeth not in his bed, a year with her sleeping beside him, untouchable.
“Like tonight.”
“Like tonight,” he agreed.
She nodded, drawing in a long breath that turned into a yawn. “I’m sorry. I hardly slept.”
“It’s a long journey. You should rest,” he said. “Here.” He released her hand to wrap an arm about her shoulders, drawing her against him.
She stiffened, but didn’t protest. She lay her head against his chest. He could feel her relax incrementally with each breath. Her eyes drifted closed. Soon, she was asleep. He had not slept well since he was in Ramsgate, but somehow the time with Elizabeth in his arms seemed too precious to waste on sleep.
He watched her, wondering if he was mad to be hurrying off to Scotland to wed. How could he marry someone he’d known for mere hours? How could he inflict this stranger on Pemberley?
Georgiana wasn’t even likely to be with child. Very few brides had a baby nine months after the ceremony. He should have gambled on that and dealt with the situation if it arose.
But what if it did arise? He was at fault for his bad choice for Georgiana’s governess. He should bear the burden, not his sister. If she did turn out to be with child, the situation would be much worse if he did nothing now.
He went still, the thought coming to him that he had only Elizabeth’s word that Georgiana was no longer a virgin. He stared down at her, aghast. What if she’d lied? What if—
He shook his head. He was being foolish. Though he didn’t know her well, he was sure Elizabeth Bennet was not a liar. She wasn’t conniving, or if she was, she was by far the best actress the world had ever known.
Besides which, he’d told her they would wed. A gentleman didn’t go back on his word, especially not a Darcy. He couldn’t back out now. His honor forbade it, and it would destroy her. Her reputation was already in tatters. If he backed out now, it would be unsalvageable after their carriage ride. True, he could give her money, but that would not restore her good name. From what he knew of her, she likely wouldn’t even accept it.
Darcy rested his head against Elizabeth’s. Know her w
ell or not, it almost ached, how right it felt to hold her. How had she managed, in a matter of hours, to enchant him so completely? Did it matter? They were on their way to be married. For better or worse, he would wed a woman he barely knew, but who held more allure than any before her. Soon, Elizabeth Bennet would be his wife.
Chapter Eleven – Elopement Succeeds
Elizabeth gazed out at the Scottish countryside. She’d left Scotland with the strong possibility of never seeing it again, yet here she was, not two weeks later. The countryside was as lovely as she recalled, but that didn’t soothe her. How had she gone from a reasonable young woman returning to her family to having her reputation in such shambles her only recourse was to marry a stranger?
She didn’t look at Mr. Darcy. She didn’t need to. His features were etched in her mind. She could feel his presence beside her.
It had been strange to wake up with his arm about her. Not unpleasant. More the opposite, which was odd in itself. She, who’d felt little for any man her whole life, had woken to his presence with a smile. This man, known to her for so short a time, roused more emotion in her than any she’d met before.
It wasn’t simply his outward appearance, and certainly not his wealth. It was at least partially because he exuded strength and competence, peace and a sense of safety. Mr. Darcy was a man who commanded not only through his social status, but by virtue of seeming worthy of respect. If he had one flaw, it was that he so wholly expected that respect, taking it as his due.
They overtook a wagon, piled high and moving slowly. Elizabeth could hear Mr. Darcy’s coachman asking for directions. Soon, they turned from the main road, heading down a well-worn track cut through a dense grove, which shielded their destination from view.
Mr. Darcy disembarked first, stopping to speak with his coachman before coming around to open her door. Elizabeth couldn’t hear all that was said, but gathered Mr. Darcy was sending the man on, to procure her requested witnesses. She felt a little silly for that, but she wanted to be intelligent about the folly she’d immersed herself in. Though Mr. Darcy seemed eminently upright, it was Elizabeth’s feeling that sometimes people had a way of talking themselves into believing what was best for them. Even a man who seemed honest, like Mr. Darcy, might argue himself around to discounting their union if required. Therefore, having as many witnesses as possible was paramount.
Foiled Elopement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 9
