by Ola Wegner
“It was easier when she was a child. All she wanted was for me to hear the new songs she had learned, ride her pony and cuddle.”
She rubbed his coverlet covered thigh. “I have an eye on her. I will talk to her whenever I feel that something is wrong.”
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “It has never been easy for me to talk with her about such matters. I do not know how.”
“Do you wish for more tea?” Elizabeth took the empty cup from his hand, placing it on the side table.
“No, I wish for something else,” he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her on to the bed next to him.
“You should rest.” She tried not to smile but ended up giggling.
“I told you that I feel much better.” He buried his face in her neck. “I need this.”
“Someone may walk in at any moment.”
“I doubt it,” he argued, kissing along her collarbone. “Most likely Georgiana has closed herself in the music room and Bingley has just left.”
“The door is open and Colonel Fitzwilliam may return at any time.”
“We will close the door. Richard is smart enough to guess why we have done so.”
Freeing herself from his embrace, she slipped off the bed and ran to close the door, turning the key with a resounding click. Kicking off her shoes, she sat down on the edge of the bed with her back to him so he could unbutton her morning dress. This he did with quick fingers.
“Come here,” he groaned, pulling her closer and pushing the fine silk down and off her shoulders.
“Wait.” She sat up divesting herself of the dress before straddling him. “My stays!” With one practised movement, she sucked some air and with both hands unclasped the hooks on the front of the corset.
“Now, I have you where I want you,” he murmured, pulling her down next to him and then rolling until she was underneath.
His hand moved stealthily down from her face, neck and shoulders, as he lowered the straps of her chemise. Covering one small breast with his palm, he caressed it. Looking into her eyes, he found them shimmering with moisture and one large tear running down the curve of her cheek.
His voice was full of concern. “What is the matter?”
“I thought we would never be like this again,” she sniffled. “You were so sick.”
“I am well now,” he replied, slowly stroking the side of her face as he brushed the tear away.
She took a deep, shaky breath. “I was so scared.” She trembled. “That last night, before they gave me the laudanum, I began to think that you would not survive. I felt that I could not live without you.”
They settled close together, both on their sides, staring into each other’s eyes.
“I am sorry that you had to go through this,” he soothed.
“Those three days when you were fighting the fever and the day that I learned about Papa’s death were the worst of my life.”
He tightened his arm around her. “I am here. I am not going anywhere. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered, closing her eyes and nestling against his chest.
***
When she awoke, the sun was considerably lower in the sky. They must have slept through most of the afternoon. Carefully, she slipped from his arms, not wishing to disturb him. He was still weak and needed his rest despite his assurances of recovery. He had continued to cough throughout their nap, though it was not the heavier coughs that would awaken him.
As she was dressing she heard a knock on the door. The knocking came again with more force. Then she heard Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice. “Mrs. Darcy?” Another knock. “Elizabeth, are you there?”
She opened the door and quietly slipped into her sitting room where the colonel waited. “We have been napping,” she explained, smoothing her dress. “Is something the matter?”
Gently taking her elbow, he led her to the window where she beheld a carriage in the drive and people standing beside it.
“Who has come?” she asked. “Is that my aunt and uncle? No, it is not their carriage. Who are these people?” she squinted her eyes. “Is that my youngest sister? This cannot be! Lydia is in Brighton.”
“Not any longer,” Colonel Fitzwilliam announced gravely. “They have just arrived.”
“They?”
“Let us go downstairs; we should not speak here,” he whispered, glancing with apprehension at the door to the bedroom where Darcy was still sleeping.“I am not certain whether he can hear us in his current state. He seems to be well enough, but he was deathly ill only a few days ago and he hates that man.”
Confused and worried Elizabeth asked, “To whom are you referring?”
“Wickham,” he spat out.
Her eyes widened. “Wickham is here with my sister?”
He leaned down, supporting his hand on the panelled wall, whispering quickly, “As I said, they came a few moments ago, just as I was returning from Lambton. The butler did not let them in because the last time Wickham was here, Darcy told the staff that he was not to be welcomed at the manor ever again. Mrs. Reynolds saw my arrival and not being able to reach you, asked my assistance. At first I did not believe my own eyes—that Wickham dared to show his face here after what he had attempted with Georgiana. I noted that he had a young girl with him and she introduced herself as your sister, Lydia. Wickham demanded to see Darcy. I told him that was not possible because he was ill and that is when the blackguard demanded to see you.”
“What does he want? What is Lydia doing here?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam put a hand on her shoulder, his expression compassionate. “They are returning from Gretna Green.”
“No,” she breathed in horror. “That cannot be!”
“I am afraid that it can. Wickham showed me the marriage license.”
Cradling her head with her hands, she exclaimed. “Oh Dear God, what did she do? Poor, stupid girl.”
“How old is she? She looks very young.”
Elizabeth’s eyes watered. “She will be sixteen in a week’s time.”
“Bastard,” Colonel Fitzwilliam muttered. “She is just a child and he is almost my age.”
“I must see her,” Elizabeth murmured, hurrying from the room and down the stairs, straight into a foyer. The front door was open and she could see a smiling Wickham with Lydia next to him as they had moved to the portico.
“Lizzy!” The girl’s face broke into a smile, as soon as she saw her elder sister approaching.
“Are you well?” Elizabeth questioned, cupping Lydia’s round face in her hands and examining her for any signs of mistreatment.
“I am well, Lizzy,” Lydia confirmed, though something in her voice was amiss.
“What did you do, Lyddy?” Elizabeth asked in a whisper, her voice cracking. “What did you do?”
The girl shrugged, beginning to laugh cheerfully. “I got myself a husband in Brighton, just like Mama said I should.”
Elizabeth shook her then. “Oh, sister, you have no idea what you have done.”
She felt a hand on her shoulder as a sweet sugary voice whispered near her ear. “Will you not greet me Elizabeth? We are now brother and sister are we not?”
Elizabeth backed away. “How dare you!” she hissed, slapping his cheek.
At first surprised, Wickham instantly angered. Catching her wrist, his lips curled into an ugly snarl. She could feel the pain in her hand as his fingers tightened.
Coming from seemingly nowhere, Colonel Fitzwilliam grabbed her assailant from behind, twisting his arm in one fast, well-practised movement. “I will advise you to let her go Wickham, if you wish to leave Pemberley on your feet instead of in a box.”
Slowly Wickham released Elizabeth’s hand, noting the footmen and stable hands who had rushed forward, eager to offer their assistance.
“Look about! You do not have many friends here, do you?” Colonel Fitzwilliam taunted, still holding him captive. “How many daughters and sisters did you ruin over the years? Do you even re
member? It was not very wise of you to come here. You have a very short memory it seems.”
“I want to see Darcy,” Wickham said.
“I told you that was not possible.”
Wickham laughed menacingly. “Dying perhaps? Is he that ill?” His merriment ended and he hissed in pain as Colonel Fitzwilliam pulled his arm with greater force.
Elizabeth fought the urge to slap him again, instead turning from the vile creature to face her sister. “Lyddy, why did you agree to go with him? What were you thinking? I cannot help you now.” Her voice broke as she finished. “You must go with him. You are now his wife.”
Lydia exclaimed, “But he insisted we come here! He said that you would help us with his debts in Brighton. That is why we had to escape.”
“You are my sister, and I will always try to help you. You will always be welcome in my home, but only without your husband. He cannot stay here. He knows why; perhaps he will tell you.”
“Lizzy?” Lydia pleaded, her expression hurt, confused and fearful.
Tears in her eyes, Elizabeth hugged her sister before turning on her heel and entering the house.
She stopped at a footman. “Make sure Mr. Wickham and his wife leave the grounds of Pemberley immediately.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Darcy watched his wife as she moved about the room. He had woken from his nap quarter of an hour ago, and he instantly felt the change in her. He had already asked whether everything was well, but she had given him a blinding smile in response, one that did not quite reach her eyes saying everything was well.
He was not fooled with her assertions - she avoided looking into his eyes and her skittish behaviour reminded him of the first weeks of their engagement when she had been uneasy in his company.
He decided that he would have nothing of that. There would be no more barriers or misconceptions between them.
He caught her right hand around the wrist, bringing her closer. “What is the matter?” he asked. Looking up into her eyes, he caught a grimace of pain reflected there before she schooled it with a pleasant expression.
Frowning, he pulled up the long sleeve of her dress. He remembered well that earlier in the day she had worn elbow length gown, and he wondered why she had changed. It was a warm day; she could not be cold.
Looking down at her hand he saw a bruise around her delicate wrist.
“Who did that to you?”
“It is nothing.” She tried to cover the bruised place with her other hand. “I must have hit my hand against something.”
He turned her hand and saw that the discolouring ran all around her small wrist.
“I am asking you once more. Who did this to you,” he spoke, keeping his voice calm. “Because it was not me.”
They had made love earlier in the afternoon, and for a moment he had kept her hands above her head, but he was certain that he had not marked her. He was always very careful not to apply too much pressure so that he did not bruise her, even when in passion.
“It is nothing,” she repeated. “No harm done.” She smiled, trying to remove her hand from his inspection. “I think that it is time for your dinner,” she said quickly, in her most animated voice. “The cook prepared fish just as you like it.”
He held her arm gently by the elbow, keeping her close to him as he stared steadily into her face till she looked at him. “Who did that to you?” he asked again quietly.
“You are still so weak,” she paused, biting down on her lower lip. “You should not worry.”
“Do you think that I will worry less being aware that someone has manhandled you in our home, crushing your hand with enough force to leave a bruise and not knowing his name?”
“It does not hurt.”
“Elizabeth, I am losing my patience. Tell me at once, or I will find out the truth from someone else.”
As he gazed into her face he could see her resolve faltering. Tears were forming in her eyes.
“He gripped my hand only after a short moment, before Colonel Fitzwilliam came to stop him,” she confessed at last. “It did not hurt, only later did I notice the bruise.”
“Who?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and not frighten her. He could not imagine anyone in his right mind who would dare to physically harm his wife in his own home.
“Wickham,” she whispered.
“Wickham? What was Wickham doing here?!” he cried angrily.
“I should not have told you,” she choked, tears running down her cheeks.
He realized that he was scaring her, even though she had done nothing wrong and was the victim.
“Forgive me,” he murmured gently, pulling her to him, so she climbed on the bed next to him. “Now tell me everything,” he said, arranging her against him with her head on his shoulder, her legs draped over his, his arm supporting her back. “What happened?” he coaxed her, kissing her bruised wrist.
She took one long, deep breath before she started to speak in a rushed voice. “After I woke from my nap, Colonel Fitzwilliam came to talk with me. He told me that Wickham was here waiting in front of the manor with my youngest sister Lydia. At first I did not believe him, but when I reached the vestibule, I saw that is was true. They were there and Wickham demanded to see you but the butler would not let him inside. They were on their way back from Gretna Green. I slapped Wickham for what he did to my sister and it was then that he grabbed my hand. Wickham insisted on seeing you, but I ordered the servants to make sure that Mrs. and Mr. Wickham left the grounds of Pemberley. Colonel Fitzwilliam saw their marriage license and says that they are indeed married.” She finished her tale with a sob, hiding her face in her hands.
Darcy fought the temptation to mount his horse that very moment and go after the bastard. He could not believe that Wickham had dared to come to his house, threaten his wife, then hurt her. What is more, he had obviously talked Lydia into eloping. He had not succeeded with Georgiana, so he had gone after the second best -Elizabeth’s youngest sister. It was low behaviour even for him.
Wrapping his arms around a crying Elizabeth, he whispered. “All will be well love. I will take care of everything.”
She pushed from him abruptly, shaking her head. “I cannot allow you to do that! They are gone; I told them to go away. Georgiana knows nothing about it.”
“Do not cry,” he dried her cheeks with his fingers. “He is not worth your tears, your nerves or your worry. Go wash your face, and then ask Colonel Fitzwilliam to come to me.”
He kissed her wet, salty lips repeatedly, the fury building inside his chest at the sight of the red blotches on the delicate skin of her neck and chest. He could well imagine how shaken she must have been after her encounter with Wickham.
At last, after many hugs and reassurance, she acquiesced. After washing her face, she went to find his cousin.
***
“You know,” Richard said without preamble as he entered the room a few minutes later.
Darcy nodded. “I noticed the bruise on her wrist and questioned her. She tried to evade the answer, but in the end she told me all.”
“Your wife was adamant that I was not to tell you,” his cousin said, bringing a chair to sit beside the bed. “I tried to convince her that you would learn sooner or later, but she said that she did want you to worry.”
“First, thank you for protecting her,” Darcy spoke earnestly. “She told me that you stopped him after he grabbed her hand.”
“I would never have guessed that Wickham would try to manhandle her. If I had known, I would have kept her a safe distance away from him.”
Darcy clenched his fists. “I would like to break his neck with my bare hands.”
“You are not the only one who wished to do so, I assure you. A small crowd of menservants gathered around Wickham and had I not been there to stop his assault on Mrs. Darcy they were quite ready to protect her.”
“Perhaps that would be better,” Darcy murmured.
“My thoughts exactly. We might have dispose
d of Wickham forever.”
Darcy ran his hands through his hair. “Will you help me? I will be unfit to travel for some time yet and I need someone to talk with Wickham.”
“Naturally, I will do it,” Colonel agreed without hesitation. “I am guessing that your intention is to help Wickham now that he is your brother.”
Darcy shrugged. “Elizabeth will be worried about her sister if I do nothing.”
“I do not think that your wife expects you to do anything. She made herself perfectly clear where her priorities and loyalty lay,” Colonel interjected. “And you know Wickham. He is a scoundrel and a leech. The more you do for him, the more money you give him, the more he will want. If you pay his debts now, in a year he will accumulate twice as much, then expect you to pay him off yet again. It is a waste of money. It is exactly what he wants you to do.”
“You are right, and I know well how Wickham operates, but I feel sorry for that poor girl, not to mention that Elizabeth is heartbroken over her sister’s fate. Lydia is even younger than Georgiana and she is a victim. Wickham went after her because of me—tis the only reason for this marriage. I have to do something for her.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam was silent for a moment, frowning. “I have an idea...”
“I am listening.”
“The girl is ruined for life and that we cannot change. I am thinking that we may convince Wickham to allow her to live separately from him, return to her mother perhaps, or settle her is some small cottage somewhere in the country far away from the society. Her reputation would be damaged, but she would have a better life than to be left with him.”
“That is a good solution, very good indeed,” Darcy smiled. “Elizabeth will be pleased with it. We only have to find Wickham.”
“Oh, I am certain that he is staying somewhere close, Lambton most likely, so that we could find him easily. He is not stupid and he knows that you care too much for Elizabeth to do nothing for Lydia.”
“Will you go and talk with him then?”
“Tomorrow, first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you, Richard; I am truly grateful for this.” Darcy extended his hand to his cousin in gratitude. “And for everything you have done for us.”
