by J Dawn King
“You only need to smile, Brother. I will welcome Lizzy to her future home and casually mention how happy I am to have a sister.” She rolled her eyes at her brother. “Finally!”
Darcy had no doubt he could play his part well. Welcoming Elizabeth to his home was a dream being fulfilled. If only she would be happy there. Just as he was seeing to justice for Wickham, he would be diligent to all he could to make her want to stay.
CHAPTER 26
“Your home is lovely, William.” They had remained at Darcy House long enough for a quick tour and to see Georgiana settled. His sister had maintained her composure until she entered her room where her favourite doll dressed in a tattered pink gown rested against her pillow—a lonely companion awaiting her return. Elizabeth had stayed with her as she had sobbed at the loss of her child and her childhood.
“Thank you, Elizabeth. I am pleased it pleases you. Soon it will be our home.” Could he be any more inarticulate? Yet, she did not seem to care as she smiled at him. “I want to thank you for…”
“No, pray do not continue. I would do no less for any of my close family. Your sister will soon be mine, will she not?” Elizabeth looked to the maid in the corner of the carriage, her eyebrow raised in a universal signal begging for a response. Could they speak safely in front of her?
He nodded once. “I wish you could stay.”
She sighed. “I do not know what my mother’s attitude towards me will be. Certainly she will be pleased I captured a wealthy man as my intended. Most likely her speculations as to how I accomplished this feat will not endear her to me—or to you.”
“I suppose not.” He would not prevaricate. He did not look forward to being in Mrs. Bennet’s company. That she had tormented her daughter for refusing the proposal of Mr. Collins to the extent that Elizabeth had needed solace made him livid. Yet, Elizabeth’s being in town had allowed him the opportunity to spend time with her under the direst situation. They were better able to know each other without Mrs. Bennet’s constant chatter. He felt his beloved’s kindly-meant discipline had refined him, skimming the dross off his character until he was a stronger man because of her. “With that said, I owe your parents a debt of gratitude I will never forget.”
Her surprise was instantaneous and he wanted to chuckle. “Mr. Darcy! Whatever can you mean?”
“Despite my admitted disapproval and frustration with your parents’ behaviour, I am grateful your father chose your mother as his bride. Without the two of them together there would be no Elizabeth Bennet, soon to be Darcy. I do not…I know my life would be intolerable without the hope of you, my dear.” He leaned across the short distance between them and took her gloved hand in his. “Your mother gave you your light and pleasing figure while your father donated his wisdom and your glorious green eyes. How could I not feel a debt to them both for what they created?”
He loved the dreamy look on her face. He loved her face.
“How kind of you to say so,” she supplied.
“This is not to say that I have forgiven them for their poor treatment of you. Harassing you for refusing the odious Mr. Collins’ offer was wrong. Doing so to the point where you sought relief with your London family is an egregious offence against you I will not easily forgive. Your father’s abdicating authority over his household and, in particular, his second daughter is an almost unforgivable sin to me, Elizabeth.” He gave her hand a gentle tug. “Although we do not have your father’s blessing on our upcoming marriage, we do have the consent of your uncle. My solicitor is preparing your marriage settlement, and I applied for a special licence this morning.”
“You have been a busy man, have you not?” Her eyes sparkled.
“I have.” He would not allow himself to be distracted by her loveliness. “You must know you have my heart. More than that, you have my loyalty and my devotion. I am yours, Elizabeth.”
The warmth from her eyes quickly changed as they flashed humour. He held his breath. He was soon to be a recipient of her wit, and he could not wait.
“You say you are devoted to me. Me!” With her free hand she pointed her thumb to her chest. “Yet, you have studied the figure of another woman so closely I am certain you could recall its every detail should you be in need of doing so. Does this show devotion to your beloved?”
He loved it when she teased and easily envisioned decades of delightful conversations where they tossed words back and forth like children with a ball. Oh, Lord! Children. Immediately his head filled with a tall, serious lad with dark curls and green eyes, little girls who smiled and teased like their mother, and a baby in her arms. He wanted to cry with the beauty of the scene. Now was not the time to be considering these things.
“Ah, ha!” he teased back. “You are caught out, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, for I saw you study the paintings of my family in the gallery in as much detail as I did your parents, so you could know whom I most resembled.”
“Your mother was as elegantly stunning as is Jane. Your father was handsome as well.”
“I have been told many times that I resemble my father in looks and form,” Darcy bragged. “You are saying I am handsome then?”
“Fishing for compliments, are we? I would have thought this paltry art below the great Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, sir.” Her laughter filled the carriage.
It was easy to let the cares of Georgiana’s miscarriage and Wickham’s crimes against his person go, to push them far away, so he could not see or feel the stress resulting from these horrid events.
“I love you, Elizabeth,” he whispered under his breath. His feelings for her were a living, breathing thing, filling him with the good pieces of life which made him feel whole.
“I…” She clasped her free hand over her mouth, her eyes huge.
“Did you almost say it?” he had to ask.
She nodded.
“Would you have meant it?”
She shook her head slowly, once to the left and once to the right, her eyes never wavering.
“Will you mean it some day?” He held his breath.
After a short pause, her chin dipped slightly down and then up, her eyes still attached to his.
“Then I can wait. Do not be distressed.” And he found he could wait. He had hope. Some day. Soon.
***
Flames from the fireplace danced on the walls of his bed chamber. The finest brandy available in England, since the war with France stopped the importation of goods, filled his glass and an ignored book of agricultural practises rested on his lap. His fingertips tapped against his lips.
The meeting with Mrs. Bennet had gone as expected. At first, she had ignored his presence as well as her second daughter’s, fawning over her firstborn and Bingley as if she had not just spent four hours enclosed in a carriage with them.
Why did everyone, including Elizabeth, think Jane Bennet to be the beauty of the family? Personally, he could not see it at all. Now, Elizabeth? She drew a man’s eye and held it with an iron grip.
The markedly cool reception from Elizabeth’s mother had eventually eased as Bingley greeted him warmly. Once Jane and Elizabeth had separated from their embrace and settled on a sofa together to catch up with the news from the past few weeks, Mrs. Bennet must have realised she was being paid little attention. She huffed to a corner and fanned herself with her ever-present handkerchief.
Despite the positive words he had said to Elizabeth on their way to Gracechurch Street, he would not tolerate his beloved being treated as anything less than what she deserved. Her character demanded respect and admiration; and her position, once married, would elevate her into the first circles of society, a place Mrs. Bennet could never achieve on her own. Even Jane’s marriage to Bingley would rise in status when Darcy and Elizabeth wed.
Glancing around his room, his mind drifted away from Elizabeth’s family. Would she find the décor acceptable? While her future chamber was soft yellows and pale blues, his was rich golds, dark greens, and midnight blues. Would she desire to spend time with him the
re?
He shook his head to dislodge the thought. Again, now was not the time for his imagination to venture into that territory. He needed a distraction.
Miss Caroline Bingley filled the need to perfection. His friend had apparently dropped his sisters and brother-in-law off at the Hurst townhouse on Grosvenor Street prior to arriving at the Gardiners. Not realising Darcy and Elizabeth were also travelling to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s home, Miss Bingley had hurried to Darcy House under the pretence of visiting her good friend—her ‘dear Georgiana.’
He snickered into the silence of the room. His ever-efficient butler had turned her away when she had pushed herself into the entrance hall, with a reminder that Miss Darcy was not yet out in society and, therefore, would not be accepting visitors outside the family unless her brother or future sister was present. Apparently, Miss Bingley had turned red in the face—a hue which was in stark contrast to the carroty shade of her hair—stomped down the steps, and climbed into her carriage unassisted.
It was a set down long overdue. Hopefully it would serve its purpose in keeping Caroline Bingley away from Georgiana. Bingley’s sister had sharp eyes and a wicked tongue. If she were to perceive any discomfort on Georgiana’s part, it would be discussed in the drawing rooms Caroline was admitted to, the tale growing with each telling.
Darcy was surprised Bingley’s sister was still attempting to pursue a relationship with the Darcys. He had thought himself perfectly clear in Hertfordshire.
As he had been that evening with Mrs. Bennet. His Elizabeth was worth more than her weight in diamonds, and it irked him how her own mother could ignore and disdain a child of her womb, especially one as precious as his beloved.
He harrumphed into the quiet. How had he himself not noticed her value the night they met? How had he resisted her for so long? Why had he run from Hertfordshire with his tail between his legs when genuine happiness was to be had in her presence? Mrs. Bennet should know beyond a doubt the quality of individuals who made up her household. Listening to her boast of Jane’s success and the angelic loveliness of her youngest was an assault to his senses. Lydia Bennet angelic? Even Miss Jane Bennet had been taken aback by that comment.
He had not lied when he spoke to Elizabeth of the gratitude he felt towards her parents. For that reason alone he would tolerate occasionally being in their company. That Elizabeth loved her mother and father in spite of their flaws gave him hope she would do the same with him.
Lord, but he adored her.
Taking a sip of the brandy, he contemplated the course he had enacted to lure George Wickham into a trap where his capture was almost guaranteed. The first step, his responding to Wickham’s threat by notifying the merchants, had to have been a shock to the culprit. Pondering the next step of his strategy, he smiled to himself.
Desertion was a massive drain on British army resources during war. The threat of courts-martial and the possibility of capital punishment had not slowed the practise. When Richard had pointed out the likelihood of an officer who abandoned his post being held as an example to intimidate others into not making the same choice, it had been the work of a moment to contact Colonel Forster, the commander of the Meryton militia, to inform him of Wickham’s presence in London.
Nevertheless, it was the third step which he calculated would be the most successful. Easily imagined was the look on Wickham’s face as his countenance went from arrogant pride to groveling humiliation. He refused to rejoice at another man’s downfall despite its being well-deserved, yet the peace he would possess after Wickham’s arrest was worth one small smile Darcy surmised.
CHAPTER 27
Darcy had been correct. A rumpled note had arrived as Darcy was sitting down to break his fast the following morning. Wickham’s response to Darcy’s first step proved his notifying the merchants by posting in the newspaper had placed his enemy in a state of nervous confusion. Wickham’s expectations of Darcy not acting in a manner which would be made public had been shattered. The note Darcy held in his hands was scathing.
Darcy,
What is this? The great Fitzwilliam Darcy is airing his dirty laundry for the gossips to consume with ferocity? Your beloved father would be appalled you have sought public sympathy for a matter which should have been kept private between you and me. Man to man. You bear the humiliation of knowing you have disrespected the best father I have ever known. You should feel shame for harming the man whom your father loved most. HE LOVED ME! How dare you! You, who pride yourself on protecting the Darcy reputation. You are a disgrace! You are not the gentleman you claim to be and are undeserving of being your father’s heir and of bearing the title Master of Pemberley.
I have the newspaper notice in front of me, and I still cannot believe you have stooped to this level of degradation. You are an embarrassment, Darcy, and I am ashamed to have claimed a close friendship with you in the past.
You have forced my hand. I have one final move which will bring you to your knees, Fitzy. Beware! My hatred of you knows no bounds.
G.W.
Crumpling the paper in his fist, Darcy stuffed the note into his pocket to show Richard later. It would not do for his sister to discover the missive’s contents. He would like to crumple Wickham and stuff him away somewhere, but, unfortunately, he could not at the moment. Georgiana sat across from him at the small table in the morning room. Rarely did she wake early, so he typically breakfasted alone. Despite his anger, he appreciated the company.
“Brother, are you well?” his sister quietly enquired.
He pondered what to tell her. His inclination was to keep Georgiana in the dark, but the puffiness of her face reminded him that ignorance was dangerous.
“I am in good health,” he offered, buying time to put his thoughts in order. “I have heard from George Wickham.”
Immediately her countenance changed, and he felt bad for having caused her pain.
“Georgie, I did you no favours when I kept his actions from you. I now realise this lack of knowledge was the principle reason you were harmed. I will not keep information from you anymore if there is a chance your knowing will protect you.” Darcy was pleased when she took a deep breath and exhaled loudly in an effort to calm herself. “I will also confess I am impressed with the maturity you displayed while at the Gardiners. This reminded me, more than anything else, that you, too, are a Darcy. You are educated and have developed qualities which remind me of our mother. She would be proud of you.”
“How can you say this, Will?” His sister’s head dropped in shame. “You know…what our mother would say…our father?”
“Poppet, are you certain you know their minds?” Darcy gave his full attention to his sister after waving the footman from the room. “Would you consider our father a wise man?”
“Without a doubt,” she instantly replied.
“I agree. Nevertheless, George Wickham fooled him for years. Our father went to his grave believing his godson was a good man, blessed with happy manners and a pleasant nature. Had our mother been alive, she would have followed father’s lead.” Darcy reached over and placed his hand atop his sister’s. “You learnt in a few months what they never came to know.”
She lifted her head and, finally, her eyes met his. Her lips barely moved into a smile. “I believe you will make a good husband for Lizzy and a wonderful father one day.”
He almost swallowed his tongue. A father? Georgiana’s comment was completely unexpected, but it delighted him to his toes. A father! He could not keep the smile from his face as he tilted his head and gazed at the wall behind her, a vision of Elizabeth with a babe filling his mind. A father.
“Wickham cannot know what he has done, Brother,” his sister rudely broke into his reverie. “The power he would have to ruin us would be insurmountable.”
“Your words are true, Georgie.” Darcy patted her hand. “Which is why we have gone, as Richard would say, on the offensive.” He outlined his plan and she seemed satisfied.
His sister mused, “I
will be happy when this is over, when Elizabeth is here as your wife and my sister, and we can have peace.”
“How I long for the same, Poppet.” Darcy did long for them to be a solid family unit quite like the Gardiners, where cheerful voices and relaxed conversations took place in public while private utterances would draw the mates ever closer.
Picking up the newspaper placed alongside his place setting, he turned to the gossip column. Darcy merely shrugged and rolled his eyes.
Miss C.B. was seen arriving at the London home of recently engaged Mr. F.D. of Derbyshire with no evidence his betrothed was present. We can only wonder if Miss E.B. of Hertfordshire is aware he is hosting others for private tea.
“Georgie, there will be other changes to our lives brought about by my clearing up past misdeeds of my own.”
“I cannot imagine what you mean, Brother.” He loved certain aspects of her youth; that trust she instinctively gave him.
