Darcy was well into the hall when Elizabeth came around the corner, coming toward him. His gaze darted behind her, seeking, but she was alone. He grimaced, for alone with Elizabeth was the last place he wished to be, but he could hardly turn and walk the other way.
Besides, what did he think would happen, he would throw away propriety and Georgiana’s future by ravaging his wife in the middle of a corridor? He did not behave barbarically. He was master of Pemberley, after all.
Yes, he was master of Pemberley, he thought, his stride slowing as he took in her graceful form coming toward him. Her skin like the finest Derbyshire cream. Ringlets he knew were silk in his hands. As lord of the manor, he was permitted to do whatever he liked, and what he would like to do was—
Darcy shook his head, scowling. He was losing his mind. He should never have taken to kissing her each evening on their journey. He didn’t dare do it now, with no sister for her to go to. Instead, he lay in bed for hours each night, sleepless, staring toward the locked door that separated them.
She stopped before him, answering his look with a frown. Her obvious calm antagonized him. Did the woman have no need for him? Had their kisses on the journey to Pemberley been nothing to her? How could she gaze on him with little more than perplexity in her eyes?
“What have I done this time?” Elizabeth asked.
“Done?”
“You’re always angry with me of late.” She threw up her hands. “I haven’t tried to leave the house alone. I’ve been taking lessons on how to manage Pemberley, and trying to learn about your tenants as well as I can without visiting them. So, what have I done? Is it the new gown? Do you think I was frivolous with my allowance? Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst said it was appropriate.”
“It is a new gown, isn’t it?” He hadn’t noticed, being far too interested in what was under the gown.
She let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head.
Her frown didn’t diminish her allure. He ran his gaze over her form, telling himself he was observing her new dress . . . torturing himself. Why was Elizabeth wandering around alone, lurking in corridors to test his will? “Who is seeing to our guests?” he bit out. “Where is your sister?”
“Our guests? My sister? Am I now not permitted to be unescorted even within Pemberley?”
She was so beautiful when her eyes flashed with anger. “I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or do you seek Jane for some other reason? You haven’t been very affectionate or even kind since we arrived here. Could it be you’ve realized that what I said is true? Jane is preferable.”
Darcy grabbed her arm, pulling her into the nearest room. It was a little used parlor, dark save for daylight behind the curtains. He slammed the door behind them.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked, yanking her arm free.
“We will not discuss such things in a corridor, where anyone could overhear us.”
“We very well can’t discuss them in private. This is the first time we’ve been alone since I discovered you’ve locked me out of your chamber.”
Yes, they were alone. Very much so. He clung to his anger. Anger was safe. “As for your sister, she’s causing enough trouble without me vying for her as well.”
“Trouble? Jane? Are you mad? Is that what’s happened, you’ve lost your wits?”
Even in the dim light he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the outrage on her face. She had no idea how tempting she was. “She is leading on both my cousin and one of my closest friends,” he growled. “It’s getting to the point where they’re hardly able to be civil to each other.” He was exaggerating, he knew, but he had to keep her at a distance. Yet, he couldn’t get himself to leave. He was shipwrecked and Elizabeth was his siren.
“If that’s true,” her tone was colored with doubt, “It’s hardly Jane’s fault. She can’t help but be polite and they both choose to persist.”
“Polite? Is that what you call it?” he shot back, hardly aware what he was saying. “I think she came here intending to use her country wiles to secure a husband.”
“How could she? She didn’t even know we were coming here.”
“She’s here now, and stirring up trouble,” he replied. “She’s playing my friends against each other for her own amusement.”
“She most certainly is not.” Elizabeth bit out. “Anyone who really knows Jane can see she’s in love with Mr. Bingley. She’s only being polite to your cousin. He’s the one drawing it out by continuing to pursue her.”
“Yes, of course she’s in love with Bingley.” Darcy coated the jab in sarcasm. “He’s worth twenty times more than Richard.”
Elizabeth gasped. Her hand shot out, striking him. Darcy’s head jerked to the side with the strength of her blow.
“My sister is not money grubbing,” Elizabeth hissed. “If she did permit either of them to offer for her, it would be because she’s in love. How dare you suggest otherwise?”
Darcy watched Elizabeth’s heaving breath. Her lips were parted. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light. She was magnificent.
“I demand an apology on Jane’s behalf,” Elizabeth said. “Furthermore, I demand to know what has changed. Why are you so different from the man who journeyed here with me? Is it this place? Do you see me here and think I am not good enough to be mistress of your home?”
“Our home,” he said, forcing the words out through a mouth that wanted to do so many other things than talk. “You always refer to Pemberley as my home, but it is yours too. Ours.”
“Well, you certainly don’t make me feel like it.” She glared at him. “Half the time, you treat me as if you’re too jealous to permit me out of your sight, as if you don’t trust me. The other half, you avoid me. Is this truly the way we’re going to carry on? You’ve given me a large enough allowance that even I could bribe that lot of witnesses in Scotland to say we never married. I’m sure Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, for all their being kind, would be happy to sell the tale.”
Darcy stared at her, shocked. Say they were never married? He cleared his throat. “Georgiana--”
“I’ve come to care for your sister greatly, but there’s a limit to what even I will endure to make up for her mistake. I’m not living the remainder of my life with a man who neither trusts me nor cares to be in my company. I’d rather be alone.” She shook her head. “Besides, it’s clear to me now you could marry your sister to most anyone. Your wealth is staggering. You don’t need me.”
“I do.” His mind refused to comprehend her words. Leave him? The very thought made his blood freeze in his veins. “I need you.”
“You and Georgiana can solve this without me.” Elizabeth’s voice had lost its anger. “It’s obvious I’m making you miserable. I’m sure everyone sees it. Now, Jane is troubling you as well.” She looked up at him. “In spite of your incomprehensible moods, I’ve come to care about you too much to be the person who makes you miserable.”
“You don’t make me miserable. You torture me.”
“Oh, well, that’s much better.” She let out a long sigh. “Let me talk to my father. I’m sure there’s something we can work out. An annulment would be possible. I wouldn’t ask for it, but he may require some small amount. Something to see I’m looked after.” She gave him a long searching look, then turned toward the door.
One long stride brought him between her and the parlor door, blocking her way. He caught her by the shoulders. She raised confused, hurt eyes to his.
“Darcy, wh--”
He brought his mouth to hers. He had some idea of doing only that, of his hands on her shoulders keeping them apart. In moments, his arms were wrapped about her, one hand buried in her hair. Her kiss was almost frenzied, matching his. Her arms twined about his neck. He lifted her, drawing her more tightly against him.
It took him long moments to gentle his kiss, to quell his frantic need for her. He set her back on the floor. She clung to him. Finally, he managed to draw his
hands back to her shoulders. Reluctantly, he set her away from him.
Her expression was a mixture of confusion and desire. He closed his eyes. If he kept looking at her, all mussed, he would start kissing her again. For a long moment, the only sound between them was their mingled, ragged breath.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
He opened his eyes. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t love your sister. I do trust you.”
“Then I still don’t understand.”
“I can’t control myself, Elizabeth.” How could he explain it without sounding like some sort of beast? “You’re my wife, and I want to treat you as such, very much, but I can’t. Not yet.” He searched her face for understanding. “When I’m alone with you, I forget the reasons why I can’t.”
A blush heightened her cheeks. “Oh. You mean . . . that is, you’re avoiding me because you like me?”
Darcy chuckled, the sound slightly pained. “Like is a paltry word.”
She smiled, looking so relieved it stabbed at his heart to have worried her. Reaching up, she smoothed a hand along his jaw. “You could have explained yourself. I can be a partner to keeping us from . . . that is . . .”
“Can you?” he asked, capturing her hand. He meant to stop her caress, but found himself raising her fingers to his lips.
“Well,” she said, her eyes wide as he kissed her elegant fingers. “I can try.”
Darcy lowered her hand, but didn’t release it. “I can’t do this for nine months. Perhaps you could visit your family.” But no, she couldn’t. Wickham was out there somewhere, plotting. That thought quenched his ardor.
He and Richard had assumed it would be easy to dig up enough complaints and petty wrong doings to see Wickham jailed, maybe even transported. Their expectation had been readily met. While Wickham was careful never to do enough wrong in one location, or to leave a town quickly if he had, collecting all his transgressions added up to quite the disreputable record. The only trouble was, now that they’d assembled their case against him, they couldn’t find George Wickham anywhere.
Elizabeth’s expression was contemplative. “I don’t want to leave you, even to visit my family. Not yet. We only recently wed. We’ll figure a way.” Her expression lit up. “Are you sure we have to wait?”
He frowned. “My sister--”
“May already know if she’s not with child.”
It was true, he realized. To be certain she was would take longer, but to know she wasn’t, well, that might already have come to pass. “I could ask Mrs. Reynolds, but that would give away what happened between Georgiana and Wickham.” How Darcy cursed the existence of the man.
“Or you could ask Georgiana.” A glint of amusement sparked in Elizabeth’s eyes.
Darcy resisted the urge to squirm. Men did not squirm, especially masters of Pemberley. “I couldn’t.”
The spark grew into outright mirth. Elizabeth’s lips turned up in a smile. “I suppose I could ask.”
“A much better idea.” He was sure she’d only suggested he do it to tease. It was a conversation best had between women. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?” He leaned in, but Elizabeth pulled back. “What is it?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t forgiven you,” she said, offering a glare. “You can’t kiss me and expect everything to be resolved, Darcy.”
He’d very much hoped he could. Instead, he braced himself. “You’re correct. What may I apologize for?”
Her eyes narrowed. “First, what about Jane?”
He shook his head. “I could never prefer her over you.”
“Not that. The things you said. About her being conniving and pitting--”
He broke into her question with a kiss, trying to soothe the worry from her features.
She took another step back, maintaining her annoyance like a wall between them. “So, you retract your words?”
“I do. Anyone can see Miss Bennet is incapable of such deviousness. I will own that there’s tension between Bingley and Richard, and it’s making our evenings less pleasant. Are you sure she prefers Bingley?”
“Very much so,” Elizabeth said. “My sister is hard for most people to interpret, as she keeps the same gentle, friendly manner always, but I know her well. She’s deeply in love with Mr. Bingley. I’ve only held back from saying anything because I can’t tell if he returns her love or is simply in it for the sport.”
Darcy considered that. He conjured up recollections of Bingley with other women he fancied. Never before had Darcy seen Bingley so intent on a woman, and consistent in his attentions. “Poor Richard. I think he truly cares for Miss Bennet as well.”
“Then the kind thing would be to tell him,” Elizabeth said.
Darcy nodded. “I will.” He closed the distance between them again. “Now may I kiss you?”
She shook her head. “There’s also the issue of the footmen. Why are you treating me like an errant child?”
Darcy grimaced, but the situation was his own doing. He’d both coddled Elizabeth and held her at arm’s length, and now he must make amends and bear her ire. He reached into his coat pocket, where he kept Wickham’s note as a constant reminder to be vigilant. “Because of this.”
Her look perplexed, Elizabeth accepted the page. She moved to stand by the window. Daylight wrapped about her, making her seem almost to glow. Darcy crossed to stand behind her.
She turned back to him, looking shocked. “Who wrote this?”
“It’s Wickham’s writing.”
Her eyes dropped to the page again. “Did you tell my father?”
“I told Richard. He and I are working on a solution.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I suppose you thought you were keeping me safe from worry.”
“I did. I was.” She didn’t look angry, but Darcy couldn’t read the emotions crossing her features.
“Did it occur to you that I could remain safer if I knew I was in danger?”
“You’re angry.” He wished they could return to kissing. It was infinitely more pleasant than confessing.
She shook her head. “I’m not. I’m exasperated, perhaps even somewhat amused. I had no idea you were such a great big dolt.”
“Excuse me?” Now she was insulting him?
She folded the note and offered it to him, along with a wry smile. “Thank you for keeping me safe. In the future, I would prefer if you would treat me with a bit more respect, and with the understanding that I am not some sort of hysterical or flighty female.”
Darcy took the note, feeling baffled. He’d expected a somewhat more dramatic reaction. He cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose we’ve lingered here long enough.” He reached up to tuck her hair back into place.
“Have we?” Her smile grew wicked. “Now that we aren’t quarreling any longer, I think we should spend a little more time practicing being well behaved.”
Lightness stole into Darcy. His fingers slid along her silky tress, stroked her cheek. “I suppose a bit more practice couldn’t hurt.”
Chapter Nineteen – Questions Answered
Elizabeth found Georgiana in her schoolroom. A fire burned low in the hearth, though the day was warm. Georgiana had a book open before her, the pages filled with unintelligible French. Elizabeth felt a stillness in the air, took in her new sister’s puffy eyes, and quietly closed the schoolroom door behind her. She crossed to sit near Georgiana, offering a smile.
“Elizabeth.” Georgiana held out her hand.
Elizabeth took it, worried by the serious look on the girl’s face. “Is everything well?”
Georgiana offered a slightly trembling smile. “It is, or soon will be, with me. I’m more worried about you.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Me?”
“My brother seems unhappy of late. You act perfectly well, but I see how you look at him.”
“It’s nothing.” Elizabeth was relieved her words were the truth. “Your brother and I are happy.”
Georgiana pressed her lips
into a line, scrutinizing Elizabeth. “Did you marry my brother so quickly in case I was with child?”
Elizabeth struggled to keep her surprise from showing. She looked about, though they were alone and the door closed. “Who told you that?” she asked, angry anyone would add the pain of worrying about her and Darcy to Georgiana’s burden.
Georgiana squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “No one told me. I guessed.” She let out a long sigh. “I am so sorry. I had no idea my actions forced you to marry. I thought it was to save your reputation, after the duel.”
“It was for that reason as well.” And because she’d remained at the inn, and for her sisters.
Georgiana pulled her hand free to bury her face in her palms. “What have I done? First, I’m fool enough to believe George loves me, then I’m selfish enough to leave you at that inn. Now, you and my brother both married rashly, and for no good reason. I’ve ruined so many lives.”
For no reason? Hope stirred in Elizabeth, but paramount was reassuring Georgiana. “You have not. I care very much for your brother, and he cares for me.”
“You’re being kind. You’re always kind.”
“I am not, though I should try to be,” Elizabeth said with a wry smile. “In this case, I am being honest. I agree, your brother and I were in an . . . a bit of a tiff. It’s resolved now. You’ll see. We’re very happy.”
Georgiana looked up. Her cheeks were damp with tears. “But I made you marry him. You’d never even met before.”
“We made the decision partly for you, yes, but you shouldn’t be upset. You should be accepting my deepest thanks.” Elizabeth pulled Georgiana into a hug. “Your brother is the only man I’ve ever met who’s stirred so much as a spark of interest in me. I’m in your debt for sending him to me.”
“Do you mean you love him?” Georgiana whispered.
Elizabeth was glad they embraced, for Georgiana couldn’t see the shock which surely wreathed her features. Did she love Mr. Darcy? “I do. I love him.”
Georgiana pulled away. A smile transformed her face back to its usual beauty. “You do? Oh, Elizabeth, that’s wonderful.” She clasped her hands before her, almost as if in prayer. “I’ve always hoped Fitzwilliam would find love. He’s so aloof, but you know he’s so kind in his heart. He’s had to take on so much, with our parents gone.” Her eyes went wide. “Does he love you back?”
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