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Bloody hell, why did you go and kiss her? Why did you give in to the temptation of holding her in your arms to begin with? And why did she come back after breaking off to kiss you in return?
Darcy's mind had been turning the events of the pond over and over as the day wore on. He felt a number of emotions stemming from the incident. The main one, of course, was guilt. Richard had asked him to watch over Elizabeth because he fully intended to take over once he was out of bed. Though he was still engaged to Sabrina, Richard had started falling for Elizabeth. In kissing her, Darcy had betrayed his own cousin.
And he had betrayed Elizabeth as well, for he had kissed her knowing that he was lying about his cousin's condition, lying about his motives for being friendly to her, lying about everything. It was all a deception, as sure as her act in London had been.
Except for the kiss. That had been all too real.
But what had it meant?
Darcy had thought of their entire history through the day, starting with the day his mother had told him that Sandy Bennet had had another little girl. He could still recall the wistful, sad look in Lady Anne's eyes as she lamented the loss of her own child, the little baby girl who had died so soon after her birth. He remembered that Anne had always had a soft spot in her heart for the girl, even so far as to request her that her husband remember her in his will.
Darcy grimaced as he realized just how much good reason Elizabeth had to hate him. He had been perfectly dreadful to her in their childhood. He could only blame the influence of George Wickham for so much of his behaviour, though who had been more influential was a matter of debate. He had been arrogant to her, rude, forever putting her down.
He recalled the first time Richard had met her at the pond, when she had shoved George Wickham in. George had certainly been asking for it, Darcy thought with a smile. And how like the fearless young Eliza to risk serious harm at a later date by doing it. But later, he had been so cold to her, knowing that George would follow his example...he had thought Richard would do the same. But he never had.
Face it, Darcy. Richard is a far better man than you.
Yes, he was. Richard would never cook up a scheme like the one Darcy had, though Darcy did not see where anyone was truly hurt. It was not as though he were trying to convince Eliza that he was in love with her when he was not, only to convince her to leave Pemberley forever. She already knew she was probably not going to ever return to Pemberley, and all he was doing was insuring that she kept her mind off of Richard long enough for Lord Robin to arrive.
Yes, but there is a line you cannot cross. Keeping her mind off of Richard by keeping him in seclusion and keeping her occupied is one thing. Kissing her was quite another.
But oh Lord, what a kiss.
Darcy put a tentative hand to his lips. He could still feel the warmth of her mouth, the tenderness, the shyness, and yet the boldness of her parting moment. He remembered the strange sensation he had felt running through him, almost uncontrollable. He had managed, but it had been rather difficult.
You are a bloody fool. Why did you do that?
Darcy felt the start of a good headache, but it did not prevent him from continuing on his present course of thought. He thought if he could figure out what had troubled him so about the events of their walk the day before, and their kiss this morning, he could put a stop to it and get things back to normal.
Normal. Yes, of course, that was what he wanted. What he needed. He absolutely craved normality and daily routine in his life. It was why he had decided to mislead his cousin about his injury and why he was insuring that Elizabeth Bennet did not see him. With Elizabeth gone, he could see his cousin married and settled near him. Things would be fine.
Darcy thought on that a moment. He had been contemplating the idea of marriage ever since Richard had informed him he had proposed to Sabrina. He knew that it was his duty to the Darcy name and to Pemberley to marry. He had thought of waiting until after Georgiana married to find a bride of his own, but Richard's engagement had made him think of how lonely his life was at Pemberley.
Lonely? Oh, no, never lonely. There are so many people here that you could never be...
And yet, he realized, that was just what he was. He was extremely lonely. There were servants around to see to his every need and wish. He had plenty of work around the estate to keep him occupied, not to mention that he kept a close eye on his finances and investments. He had several entertainments in the evenings, from billiards to books. He was invited to dine upon occasion with neighborhood families. When Georgiana was home, he had enjoyable evenings.
But though he kept himself occupied, though he told himself that he was content, Darcy knew in his heart that he was not truly happy. He did not have someone to come home to. He did not have anyone to spend his evenings with if he did not feel like going out. He did not have someone who understood him and loved him body and soul. He did not have anyone who loved him as his mother had loved his father.
Does anyone have that anymore? These modern marriages, where all anyone cares about is money or nobility, breeding and good manners and heirs and...and Lord knows how many arranged marriages there are out there, without anyone consenting to them at all. Is love merely a myth, or were my parents an abnormality?
With a heavy sigh, Darcy realized that he was no closer to determining the cause of the upheaval he felt when he had kissed Elizabeth than he had been before.
Perhaps there is nothing for it save doing what I am still doing. Surely that strange feeling would go away if I spent more time with her. And I still need to keep her away from Richard.
Oddly enough, he felt a combination of relief, joy, and fear as he made his decision. He would continue as he was now until Lord Robin came.
Elizabeth spent her morning in a daze. The pain of her father's decision was still there, a dull throb that she occasionally remembered when she was not thinking of the kiss. But that kiss! Good heavens! Who would ever have guessed that the staid, implacable Fitzwilliam Darcy could be capable of kissing a girl senseless?
Who could have guessed that she, a sensible girl with a healthy dislike of him, would be that girl?
Now, do not go thinking this is love. Love is more than just a kiss, and you well know it. Your own parents are proof enough that it takes more than a passionate feeling to make a marriage work, and besides, given his long-standing views on class, he would never consider marrying you. Especially not you.
Marriage? Why was she thinking about marriage, for goodness' sake? She was already engaged! And he--well, she always figured he would do the sensible thing that his aunt kept preaching of and marry his cousin. Although she sensed from their one meeting that Anne was more than everyone seemed to think, the fact remained that Anne de Bourgh was the perfect wife for Mr. Darcy. Though not handsome, she was rich. She was of his sphere. It was certain that ladylike behaviour would come naturally to an earl's granddaughter. Much easier than it came to her, Elizabeth thought wryly.
Still, the matter remained that though she might respond to Mr. Darcy's kiss, it meant nothing beyond a physical reaction.
But on the heels of that came a rather troubling thought.
She had been kissed by both Robin and Richard, and neither one of them made her feel as Darcy had. Considering that she was marrying one and thought herself to be in love with the other, this was problematic. How could she enjoy Darcy's kiss if she did not love him? How could she not enjoy either of the other two when she felt more for them?
She recalled her words to Mr. Darcy. Regardless of what Richard felt, she could not marry him. Regardless of what that kiss might signify, she could not marry Mr. Darcy, either. She was marrying Robin. Perhaps now that she had felt that amazing feeling, she would feel it again with another man because she knew what to expect.
Yes! That had to be it! Her other kisses had been hurried, rushed affairs, and respectful as well. Her other kisses had been from men who kissed her as they would any other lady.
She supposed this meant she should be furious with Darcy, for to assume this meant that he had kissed her as he would a...well, a servant girl and not a lady. However, she was too grateful to him for doing so because now she knew that she wanted a man who was going to make her feel that way again, but still respected her.
Before she could contemplate on this further, there was a knock at the front door of the cottage. Tearing down the stairs though she was uncertain of who it could be, Elizabeth threw open the door. Her smile widened--though Lord help her, it should not have, for her caller was Mr. Darcy.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy," she said.
"Miss Bennet. Although I behaved most deplorably to you this morning, I was wondering if you would be willing to take a stroll with me throughout the park as we promised yesterday."
"Of course. I would hardly like to be considered a lady who went back on her word."
Darcy bowed and extended his arm to her. Elizabeth smiled at the courtly gesture and placed her hand on his arm.
"Miss Bennet, please forgive my somewhat peculiar reaction to what happened earlier," he said as they began walking. "I do not make it a habit of kissing young ladies, and I hope I did not scare you."
"You--" Elizabeth was uncertain whether or not he had scared her. Certainly her own physical reaction had scared her, and he had caused that reaction, but he had not scared her merely by kissing her. "You did not scare me," she finally said.
Neither of them spoke as they wandered past familiar landmarks. Darcy was uncertain as to whether or not he should apologize for kissing her. On the one hand, he did not wish for her to be offended by his extremely ungentlemanlike behaviour; however, he also did not want her to think he regretted kissing her, for that might offend her more. In the end, he said nothing. This seemed the best course of action.
The problem Darcy then had was that he was uncertain of what to say. Finally, he thought of something that had been troubling him for a while, if for no other reason than it had affected Elizabeth's opinion of him.
"Miss Bennet?"
"Yes, Mr. Darcy?"
"I have been curious to know what George Wickham told you about me."
"Pardon?"
"In London, you said that I had done George a serious wrong, but you never told me precisely what it was. I have been wondering for some time what George Wickham might have told you that you would have believed, given your history."
Elizabeth blushed. "Ah, yes, well...I suppose it was rather foolish of me to listen to him, and even after he told me I had to wonder if it was true. He told me that you had interfered with his courtship of a young lady."
Darcy frowned, puzzled. "How did I do that?"
"According to George, the young lady's father asked you if he would be a suitable husband for their daughter. You told him no, and persuaded them to ensure that their daughter had nothing more to do with him. He said he became quite ill and nearly died from grief." Elizabeth thought for a moment. "I suppose that last bit should have made me realize that he was lying, for I doubt George would ever truly grieve for anyone."
"Whom did he say I prevented him from marrying?" Darcy had a feeling he knew the answer.
"Sabrina Tysen."
"Ah." How the devil did George Wickham find out that Mr. Tysen had asked for my opinion? He wanted to keep all of that confidential.
"If he did grieve for anything, it would be the loss of her fortune," Elizabeth was now saying. "But he was so bitter and the two of you had been friends long ago that I wondered if it could be true."
"George and I have not spoken to each other in nearly seven years," Darcy said. "Not since the day of the reading of my father's will. I do not know how much the...the, er..."
Elizabeth smiled. "The servants. You can say that to me, I am unashamed of who I am."
"Right. I do not know how much you know of what happened that day--well, you know about the bequests, and that my good father wished George to go into the church and take a living at Pemberley."
"He was not suited for the church," Elizabeth stated.
"Of course he was not. He knew it as well, and asked for a sum of money equal to what he figured the living would be worth. I agreed to give him three thousand pounds, and that, combined with what he had from my father, would have seen him well in his studies as a lawyer."
"What has this to do with his claims of your ending his relationship with Sabrina?"
Darcy sighed. He knew that she needed to know the truth about the incident, even if it meant her opinion of him would be unfavourable once again.
"He began courting Sabrina a year or so ago. It was near the time my cousin and Miss Tysen were introduced during Richard's leave. George, from all accounts, was an attentive, courteous gentleman. The Tysens were impressed by his manners and what they thought was his good breeding. George had told them a great number of lies about himself, though he was honest in one respect--that he had very little money, though how little they did not ever discover.
"Sabrina expressed an interest in marrying him and confided in her mother, who brought the subject up with Mr. Tysen. George had mentioned that we were friends, and so Mr. Tysen, having his doubts about his daughter marrying a fortune hunter, asked for my opinion."
Elizabeth paled. George had been telling the truth, then.
"Though we had not spoken to each other in many years, I did feel something of an obligation to George due to my father's feelings for him. I did keep up with his life and discovered that the money had barely lasted him two years. He had lived as a king in London, and worse still, he had gamed much of the money away. Had he not been lucky in the beginning, his money would likely have not lasted a month.
"How he lived after that I know not, though I have my suspicions. He made enough money in that time to present himself as a gentleman to the Tysens."
"You said you felt an obligation to him, yet when Mr. Tysen asked for your opinion--"
"I said I felt an obligation to keep up on what he was doing. I felt my obligation should end there. Mr. Tysen asked for my honest opinion, and given what I knew about George Wickham, I could not honestly say he was a suitable husband for Sabrina."
Elizabeth felt anger rising and held her tongue.
"I know you are upset, despite this being George Wickham. It comes too close to my perfidy in giving Bingley my honest opinion about your sister's affections for him. But this was a completely different situation. With your sister and Bingley, I should not have given an opinion because I did not know your sister well. If I had known Jane to be a modest young woman, I would not have advised Bingley to hesitate.
"But I know George. You know George. His character is the same now as it was when we were children. And you know Sabrina. You said yesterday that you consider her a friend. Would you honestly want her to be married to a man who would likely go through her dowry and then bleed Mr. Tysen's estate dry? Do you think she could have been happy with him?"
"No, I would not."
"Then you can understand why I could not recommend that they let her marry him? It was not simply that I wanted her to marry Richard--I have no doubt that George mentioned that. He knew that Richard was courting Sabrina as well--but that I liked Sabrina and did not wish such a fate on her."
Elizabeth nodded. "I understand. I just wish I could say that I agreed with it. It seems rather arrogant of you to have people doing what you think is best."
"I believe you are right, Miss Bennet. In the future, I shall endeavor not to give my opinion when sought, but rather to let things progress as they may."
Elizabeth looked at him suspiciously. He was smiling at her.
"You are teasing!" she exclaimed. "Why, Mr. Darcy, how rude of you!"
He laughed. "All right, perhaps I was not as sincere with that statement as I should have been. You are right, though. I do tend to make things my concern which have little if anything to do with me. I should try not to do it in the future."
The two continued to walk through Pemberley's park. Whereas the day before they had kept a peaceful silence, it seemed as though they would never run out of things to talk about. They spoke of the people they knew, horses, books, his aunt, Caroline Bingley. The shade of the trees kept the worst of the heat from bothering them as they made their way back toward the main house.
Darcy spotted the small figure nearly hidden by a tree first. She was sitting, leaning against the trunk of a strong oak, reading a letter with a dreamy look on her face. The wind played with the fashionable curls at her temples. Her eyes were shining and her face was flushed.
Darcy frowned. Though she was merely fifteen, and she still seemed a young girl to him, for the first time he realized that she was no longer a little girl. She had grown quite a bit in the past year and was nearly as tall as Elizabeth. Her face, which had seemed so girlish to him, seemed more like a woman's now. The light in her eyes was almost a romantic light.
Romantic?
Nonsense. Georgiana was far too young for a romance. Fifteen may be closer to adulthood, but she had not made her debut and there was no one she could possibly have an interest in. The only time she had been out was at the masked ball, and he had kept a close watch on her.
And when he had not been there, he was certain Lady Catherine had watched her in his absence.
Georgiana had noticed them approaching while he had been thinking. She had hurriedly stuck George's letter in her pocket and prayed her brother had not seen her reading it. George had told her that Fitzwilliam would be displeased to discover that they had formed an attachment.
An attachment. Georgiana could scarcely believe it. The first note had arrived the morning after the ball, and had but one line to it:
Do you believe in love at first sight?
Georgiana had wanted to shout her answer from the tallest tree at Pemberley. Instead, she had to remain content to look slightly dazed and happy.
The following morning, Mrs. Younge had proved herself to be a great ally when she had handed her charge a small note during their literature discussion. That note had asked her to meet him for a walk in the park during the time she would normally be resting. Georgiana had been unable to concentrate on her Shakespeare discussion after that. And instead of the lecture Mrs. Younge normally would have given her, the governess had merely shook her head, smiled, and told her to "go to her young man."
Mrs. Younge clearly had a unseen romantic streak. Georgiana was truly grateful for it.
Her walk with George had been the epitome of romance. He had brought along a small book of Shakespeare's sonnets, and the conversation between the two of them had been far more stimulating than anything Georgiana had had with Mrs. Younge. Not that George had tried to take any liberties with her--far from it. He had been such a gentleman that Georgiana did not think he was real.
George had been honest with her. He had confessed that he had not led the most exemplary life, that he had very little money and few prospects. He told her that her friend Sabrina Tysen had broken his heart by refusing to marry him. He told her that he suspected Fitzwilliam of persuading the Tysens to refuse his suit.
"That cannot be so," Georgiana said, loyal as always to her brother. "My brother may not be a perfect man, but he would not abuse a friend in such a manner."
"I do not know that we can be called friends anymore, Georgiana," he said. "We have not spoken in quite a while. At our last meeting, he expressed no interest in pursuing a friendship. I fear that if he discovers that we are in love that he--"
"In love?" Georgiana had asked timidly. "Are we?"
"I am," George stated. "I thought you were as well."
"Of course." Georgiana was rapturous. This handsome, wonderful man loved her!
"I think it would be best if we were to keep things quiet for now," George said. "You cannot tell anyone, especially not your brother. Promise me, little George. Promise you'll tell no one."
"I promise," she told him.
And she had kept her promise.
"Good afternoon, brother," Georgiana now said, with a small bow to Elizabeth.
"Georgiana. What was that letter you were reading?" he asked.
Drat. I should have known he would see it.
"Merely a letter from an old friend," she replied. "I had not heard from her in quite some time."
"Ah," Darcy said, though he did not feel relieved in the slightest. There had been something more in Georgiana's expression that made him think the letter was more personal.
But he put those thoughts away. He knew his sister, and she would never lie to him.
"Shall we walk together back to the house?" he suggested.
"You must excuse me, but I must return to the cottage," Elizabeth said. "It was most pleasant to walk with you, Mr. Darcy. Miss Darcy."
Elizabeth headed in the direction of the cottage, leaving Georgiana alone with her brother. Darcy watched her until she turned a bend and disappeared.
"Fitzwilliam?" Georgiana stared at her brother, taken aback at his unabashed staring at the young woman. "Why do you look at Miss Bennet in that way?"
Jerked back to reality, Darcy blinked several times and turned to look at her. "In what way?"
"I do not know, but it is most unlike any look I have ever seen you give a lady. Almost like G--" Georgiana bit her tongue to keep from blurting out his name. "Almost like you were in love."
Darcy laughed. "In love? With a servant's daughter? Georgiana, Lady Catherine would have me murdered in a heartbeat if I were. And how would it look, for me to love her? It is likely all of London knows the truth about Elizabeth, between Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine." With a sigh, he added, "She shall have much to deal with when she returns to London. I hope she takes her father's advice and..." Darcy's humour fled as he realized he did not want Elizabeth to take her father's advice, which he had overheard during their conversation in the barn.
For the life of him, he could not figure out why. More guilt, he had no doubt, about his deceit in keeping her away from Richard, who loved her and would undoubtedly disagree with Tom Bennet's advice.
"I should get back to the house before Mrs. Younge begins to worry," Georgiana said quickly. "You will excuse me?"
"Of course," Darcy said, lost in his thoughts. They were most confusing.
It was the most maddening thing in the world, he thought, that all he wanted was for things to be normal again and nothing he tried seemed to work. The only time things were calm was when...
When he was with Elizabeth.
Most troubling.
Richard had said that if he were to spend time with Elizabeth, Darcy would understand why he had fallen in love with her.
Darcy was beginning to realize what Richard had been talking about.
Rather than resent her father for his proclamation that this would be their last summer together, Elizabeth chose instead to spend as much time with him as she could. They took daily rides throughout Derbyshire. Elizabeth climbed rocks and trees and hills and admired as much as she could. She was not insensible to the need to spend time with her mother and sisters, though she could live without her mother's continued talk of planning debuts for her other sisters. Spending time with Jane and Kitty was nice. Lydia was nowhere to be found when Elizabeth wished to talk to her, and finally she stopped trying. If Tom wished to discover the identity of Lydia's lover, he would have to do it on his own.
In the afternoons, Elizabeth went on walks with Mr. Darcy. She enjoyed her time with him, and cherished it, for it was the only time that she was able to forget her troubles. While she politely asked after Richard's health every afternoon and was puzzled when told that he was making an extremely slow recovery, she soon forgot all about Richard as she learned new things about Mr. Darcy.
Once every week a new letter came from Robin, and each week Elizabeth's guilt grew. Though Elizabeth tried desperately to detect some sort of growing detachment in his words, she found none. She knew that Robin was as in love with her now as he had been at the end of the Season. His letters were full of the things he had planned for after their wedding. He spoke of how the people at his estate were eager to meet her, as they had heard so much of her that "they are in love with you even though you have never been here."
Elizabeth wrote in reply, "They may be in for a disappointment, Robin, for the reality rarely lives up to expectations."
She tried to keep her letters impersonal, praying that he would not be able to tell that she was in turmoil. The last thing Elizabeth wanted was for Robin to see her at Pemberley, for he would know that things had changed, that she no longer loved him. He would see the reason for her guilt.
Robin would see that she was in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy.
When she first thought of loving Mr. Darcy, the man who had once been the tormentor of her childhood, she had laughed for nearly ten minutes. Imagining herself in love with Mr. Darcy was almost like imagining herself happily married to George Wickham.
Yet as strange as the notion had been, it had slowly dawned on her that that was exactly what she was feeling for him. Elizabeth had compared him to both of the other men for whom she had professed some sort of affection and realized that she far preferred him to either of them. She had even gone so far as to make a list of each gentleman's attributes and weaknesses.
Granted, Mr. Darcy was far from perfect. Indeed, were she to have chosen a husband based on her list, she would have had to choose Robin, for he had the advantage of being titled (not that she had ever cared), he was wealthy, and at the top of her list, he was the man she was supposed to be marrying.
In block letters at the top of Mr. Darcy's list were the words "I LOVE HIM."
And that made all the difference.
For a very brief time, Elizabeth had felt all the feelings one should expect from a person in love. She had been overjoyed with her feelings. She had, at long last, found a man she could respect, whose words to her indicated that he respected her in return. He had a fine mind and a good character. He was everything she had wanted for all those years, but her childhood longings for Richard paled in comparison to how she felt about Mr. Darcy.
Almost immediately, her good humour had deserted her. She might love Mr. Darcy, but despite his kind, respectful words he had made no overtures of love to her. There was also the rather great matter of her engagement and, if she decided to agree to her father's request, imminent marriage.
She fell into feelings of such despair that she began weeping disconsolately. Her mother heard her and, knowing that a letter had arrived that day, feared it contained the news that Robin was dead and all her dreams were gone forever. Elizabeth had taken nearly an hour to convince her mother that everyone was fine, that she was merely weeping due to being overwrought (a condition Sandy Bennet more than understood) and that she wished to be alone.
Elizabeth's grief so overtook her that it would be three hours after the post's arrival before she finally read Robin's letter. What he wrote troubled her further.
11 July.Dear Elizabeth,
I fear you shall not be pleased to hear the news I have to tell you in this letter, but I felt I had to warn you of recent happenings in London. Before I begin, please do not be alarmed, for I think I was able to handle the gossip rather well...but I get ahead of myself.
I was in London on business last month. I was able to conclude early and decided to drop by my gentleman's club to visit some friends I had been told were there. While there, I happened to make a friendly wager with my friend Martin Caderet about a horse he had running in an upcoming derby. I decided to record it in the betting book and as I did I stumbled across a wager that had been made at the beginning of the summer. Someone had bet a hundred pounds that Caroline Bingley would be able to discover the truth about you before the next Season. The following bet concerned when I would cry off. I looked back through the book.
There were several wagers about who you were, and I fear that they were not pleasant. Although we knew halfway through the Season that there were those who suspected something about you, the speculation was far more innocent than these bets were. Decency forbids me to inform you of what they have said, but you can imagine what it is. Should I discover the identity of these so-called bettors I intend to call them out, legal or not.
Several people visited me in London to warn me about the "rumours" that are being spread about our relationship. I think all of London is now well aware of the fact that your family is in service; though how they were finally convinced of this, I do not know. Someone mentioned that the Earl of Matlock had a hand in it, though both Mother and I refuse to believe he would have had anything to do with such rumours being spread. It is far more likely his sister, Lady Catherine. I must ask, what have you done to so infuriate her? Mother guessed that it was merely your presumption to rise above the serving class, but I wonder if it is something more.
My questioning Lady Catherine's motives has to do with a letter I received. It was unsigned, and were it not for the lady's unexplainable, vindictive actions, I would not credit it whatsoever. The letter states that you have been meeting with Richard Fitzwilliam in private, and that I should worry about your reputation and collect you right away or else end our engagement. I know that the two of you were good friends and I shall admit right away that upon reading the words I was insanely jealous, knowing your past feelings for him. My first inclination was to come to Pemberley right away, bring you here, and marry you before you changed your mind and ran away with him.
Fortunately, common sense prevailed and I realized that it was not an intentional impropriety on your part which has led to this letter being sent me. Having been good friends for so long, I think it would be rather difficult for you to act differently around Richard. People who did not know the truth would automatically suspect that you were playing me false with him. I also had to consider that Lady Catherine, in a further effort to blacken your name, had written the letter.
As to what I have said when people have told me that there is a possibility that I am marrying beneath me, I merely say that I think there is no woman in this world of better character, breeding, and elegance than Elizabeth Bennet. As Mother puts it, I am not lying, but I am admitting nothing. She is doing everything she can to discredit those who discredit you, and she feels I am doing the right thing by saying very little at this time.
She has, however, changed her opinion on something that I should probably not talk about in a letter. However, time has become a factor and so I must. Elizabeth, we both feel it would be for the best if you and I were married before we return to London. Since everyone knows you have been staying at Pemberley this summer, and I have been here looking after my estate, there can be no hint of scandal attached to a small, quiet country wedding. This would be the best way to quell the rumours of our relationship, and hopefully stop any inquiries about your family once and for all.
I am planning to travel to Derbyshire at the end of this month, and by then I shall hope you have made a decision. My mother, in anticipation of your answer, has already instructed her seamstress to work on your wedding gown and trousseau. I think that the end of August would give her enough time to plan efficiently. If you still feel that we should wait, I shall abide by your decision. Whatever you choose, Mother longs to see you and begs me to ask that you return with me before we go to London.
I send all my love to your family, and most especially to you, my darling. I am eager to see you again.
Elizabeth had groaned after reading the letter, tears forming in her eyes which fell unchecked down her cheeks. It was clear to her that she had little choice in the matter. She would be married at the end of the summer.
"You seem most troubled today, Elizabeth," Darcy said when they went on their walk that day. "I was told you had received a letter from Lord Robin, and worried that there was grave news."
"It depends on your definition of grave," Elizabeth replied. "He merely told me what I suspected would happen the moment I left London. All of society knows the truth about me. Whether or not they care remains to be seen." She went on to explain what Robin had written her, though it caused her embarrassment.
Darcy sighed heavily. He had been correct after all, and now wished he had not been. "I am sorry, Elizabeth."
"Both Robin and Lady Grace seem to agree with my father. They think I should marry immediately to alleviate any further gossip. Robin is coming at the end of the month to take me to Somerset, where we shall be married."
Darcy felt fear clutch at him. No. I cannot lose her.
It seemed as though her marriage had been something he had thought of only in abstract, something that would eventually happen but not for a good long while. It had, at first, been what he had hoped would bring things in his life back to normal. Indeed, it was the reason he had written that letter to Lord Robin urging him to either break his engagement or collect his fiancée.
It had been only recently that he awoke to the fact that the only thing that would make his life feel normal was to have Elizabeth as a permanent part of it. How else could he explain his restlessness at night, knowing that he was mere hours away from seeing her again? How else could he explain resenting the time she spent with her family? How else could he explain the feelings that wrecked his nerves every time she smiled or spoke? What else could account for his longing to look into those magnificent eyes and see them shining with love for him?
Every time he thought of the truth of his situation, he felt like crying and laughing all at once. Just over a month ago, he had become so infuriated with his cousin for falling in love with the daughter of a servant that he had punched him, bribed a doctor to inform him that he had severely injured his leg, and wrote a false letter to her fiancé. Now he, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had fallen in love with her himself.
Not, of course, that she loved him. She could not possibly love him, especially if she discovered what he had done. Darcy knew now, from their conversations, that she did not love Lord Robin, but not for one second did he think she loved him. Elizabeth had come to respect him, possibly even esteem him highly. But love was another matter altogether. She did not love him, she loved Richard.
Darcy now understood that Elizabeth had truly loved Richard all those years, and he suspected that given a little time, Richard would truly fall in love with Elizabeth. He was well on his way.
And having torn apart two lovers who deserved to be together, Darcy had to find a way to make amends for his actions. He had already told Dr. McClain that he could pronounce Richard's leg cured so that Richard could spend time with Elizabeth. He had thought that would do it, but he had not counted on running out of time.
"Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth had stopped walking and was now looking at him. "Is something wrong with you as well?"
"You...you said that Lord Robin is coming to take you to his estate?" he asked.
"Yes. At the end of the month. We...we shall wed at the end of August."
"Congratulations," Darcy replied. How sad, he thought, that this conversation was turning so broken, so unlike their past discussions. "It...it seems as though you have not been here so very long, yet over two months have passed. Pemberley shall not be the same without you."
Elizabeth laughed weakly. "I somehow doubt that. Pemberley is much like yourself, Mr. Darcy. It shall survive any storm and stand proudly."
"Is that what I do?" he asked. "I survive storms and stand proudly?"
Elizabeth seemed to liven. "Well, I have yet to see you actually survive a storm, so I cannot speak for that. As to the standing proudly bit, I have heard it mentioned that you cling to the walls like a vine at gatherings, that you look down your nose at most company, that--"
Darcy feared for the longest moment that she meant every word of that until he saw the familiar gleam in her eyes.
"Most amusing, Miss Bennet," he said. But her mentioning gatherings had given him an idea. "It has just occurred to me that you should have an engagement party if you are to wed in six weeks' time."
"Oh, no, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth immediately protested.
"Never fear--I would not dream of inviting Caroline Bingley. Yet if there are wagers on the books in the clubs, it is imperative that you do not make your wedding a secretive affair. People will continue to think that you have something to hide if you do. If a small wedding is what you both wish, however, then an engagement party would be perfect. Think of it, Elizabeth. Everyone would know that Robin has no plans to cry off. Everyone can see you again and decide that what they have heard is wrong, or if they do believe it, that it does not matter."
This is madness, sheer and utter madness, Darcy thought. Why are you doing this? You have already decided to bring her back to Richard.
"It is something that I would need to discuss with Robin, of course," Elizabeth said. "He may not wish for an engagement party, though I am certain Lady Grace would not mind in the slightest. I shall send an express inviting her at once."
"Excellent. I shall start making plans, then."
As the two approached the house, Elizabeth was startled to see Richard walking toward them.
"Richard!" she exclaimed, pleased that her friend seemed to be better. "Your cousin has told me several times that you were healing slowly, yet that does not appear to be the case at all."
"I think the doctor was being pessimistic so that when I made a quick recovery, he could claim all the credit," Richard replied with a smile. "Not that I have anything against Dr. McClain, Darcy, but my leg feels perfectly fine. I do not think the damage I did it was nearly as extensive as he thought."
"So it would appear," Darcy said stiffly, looking at the pleasure in Elizabeth's eyes and the warm look in Richard's. He felt a part of his heart aching sorely at the sight, but he knew he had been right to tell Dr. McClain to end the charade.
"I suppose you are far too tired to take a walk out to the pond," Richard said.
"I would not have you overdo yourself. After all, this is your first day out of the sickroom," Elizabeth replied. "Perhaps we could talk later."
Richard nodded politely.
"Now, if you would excuse me, I need to draft a letter. Mr. Darcy, if you would be so kind as to--"
"Yes, of course. I shall insure that it reaches Lord Robin with all due haste."
"Thank you." Elizabeth made a gracious curtsy to them and left.
Richard beamed. "Thank you, Darcy."
Darcy looked sharply at his cousin. "For what?"
"For looking after Elizabeth. And for being so kind to her. I know what you truly think of her but it is clear to me that you have been extremely gracious." Richard watched as Elizabeth walked away. "What was that she said about writing to Denby?"
"Lord Robin is coming at the end of the month to take her to Somerset. They shall be married there before returning to London."
"What?" Richard exclaimed in horror. "She cannot marry him. She does not love him."
"I know," Darcy said softly. "But she has no other choice."
"The devil she doesn't. She knows how I feel about her. Although I was completely blind until recently, I know how she feels about me."
Instinct made Darcy want to question Richard about how he thought he would be able to support Elizabeth as he had resigned his commission and had very little money to live on, but then he remembered that he had decided to do what he could to bring them together.
The thought pained him greatly. It could be done, though it would cost him more than he could ever tell anyone.
I thought love was supposed to make you feel as though you could climb mountains. I thought love was supposed to make you so much happier than this.
If this is love, and I know it is, then why am I so miserable?
That evening, Elizabeth's express to Lord Robin was sent and Pemberley began preparing for another party. It was extremely rare for Mr. Darcy to entertain a large party more than twice a year, and to do it twice in one summer seemed all the more extraordinary. Within days, Lord Robin's reply came--he informed Elizabeth that he would be honoured to be Mr. Darcy's guest, that he was thrilled she had agreed to marry him in six weeks, and that he and Lady Grace would arrive within a fortnight.
Mr. Darcy took more of an interest in Elizabeth's engagement party than he had taken in planning the masquerade ball. All the servants secretly speculated as to the cause.
Very few of the speculations were correct.
Most felt that Mr. Darcy was showing the respect the family had always shown their servants, especially those who had served as faithfully as the Bennets. Others, knowing that the former master of Pemberley had made bequests to both Tom Bennet and Elizabeth in his will, thought Darcy was carrying out his father's wishes.
But those who knew him best--Bingley, Mrs. Reynolds, Cuthbert the butler, and Mr. Fennyman, his steward--knew the truth. They had sensed the great change Mr. Darcy's feelings had taken towards Elizabeth Bennet. They suspected that he loved her, but that he would never do the dishonourable thing by interfering in her relationship with the Earl of Denby.
They were confused, however, that Mr. Darcy seemed to be turning a blind eye to everything else going on at Pemberley. The estate ran very well, but then, it always did. But everyone had noticed that Darcy was encouraging his cousin to spend time with Miss Bennet (which was even more confusing, given how he obviously felt about her). Richard and Elizabeth had been seen everywhere riding horses, having picnic lunches at the pond, taking long walks throughout the grounds. Darcy, who had been most opinionated about Richard staying away from her, no longer seemed to care.
They would have been greatly wrong, however, for every time Darcy saw Elizabeth and Richard somewhere, laughing together, talking together, anything together, he wanted to punch his cousin again and spirit Elizabeth away.
Knowing Elizabeth, she would likely punch me back and spirit Richard away, Darcy thought with a fond smile on these occasions.
His heart broke every time Richard sat at his dinner table, even if he could not talk much about Elizabeth due to Sabrina coming nearly every evening. Darcy felt doubly guilty when he thought of what he was doing to that poor young lady, who had done absolutely nothing to deserve such heartbreak. It was clear that Sabrina suspected something was going on, though Richard tried to hide it.
She had asked Darcy whether or not Richard was in love with another woman, fully suspecting who it was. Darcy had denied it, claiming that Richard was merely enjoying his freedom since his leg had healed. He knew Sabrina did not believe him, and it made him feel that much worse for covering up for his cousin.
Darcy was having a great deal of trouble sleeping lately, with his dreams about Elizabeth and what might have been if she had not loved another. As the day for Lord Robin and Lady Grace's arrival drew closer, he dreamed of what would happen when they arrived. Would Elizabeth sacrifice her happiness with Richard to do what everyone thought was the right thing, or would she do what was right for her and choose Richard? When that did not keep him awake, his worries about Sabrina did, or if not that, then anger at his cousin, or his puzzlement about Georgiana.
Georgiana was another problem the servants at Pemberley thought Darcy was ignoring, and it was not true. Darcy had noticed of late, however, that Georgiana seemed to be growing rather distant with him. He could not understand why, for he was as supportive of her as he had ever been. Something had changed, however. She was much more secretive than had once been. She used to confide her problems to him. Now whenever he asked, she said that Mrs. Younge was handling it just fine, as she always had.
Darcy had not liked the implications of that comment.
What worried him more was that Georgiana at times seemed to walk about in a fog, and he could find no explanation for it. He had suspected she was seeing someone in secret and had tried following her one day, to see where she went when she disappeared, but she had somehow managed to evade him. He had searched for half an hour with no luck.
That worried Darcy even more, for it meant she was seeing someone who did not want her brother to know who he was. He vowed that as soon as Elizabeth and gone from Pemberley, whether it be with Robin or Richard, he would devote all of his time to finding out the truth. He was not about to let some cowardly scoundrel ruin his sister's reputation. Georgiana deserved a far better man than that.
"They have come! They are here! Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Oh, where are you, you silly girl?! Elizabeth, Lord Robin and Lady Grace are come at last!" Sandy shouted throughout the cottage.
Elizabeth's nerves, already frayed, were pushed further to snapping at the sound of her mother's voice. She had dressed with great care, hoping she would look as she had in London.
What nonsense. They shall not be fooled simply because you dress well.
Sandy opened the door to Elizabeth's room with a flourish. "There you are, Elizabeth. Did you not hear me calling you?"
"I believe all of London could hear you, Mama," she replied.
"Your--Lord--the Earl of Denby is here, with his mother as well!"
"Thank you, Mama. Would you be so kind as to inform Robin and Lady Grace that I am not quite ready to see them and shall be there shortly?"
"Not quite ready to see them? What do you mean by that? Your dress is perfectly presentable--indeed, I have never seen you look as nice as you do now. You cannot leave a belted earl and his mother waiting!"
"Of course I can. One makes earls and countesses wait even longer, in fact."
Sandy was apoplectic. "I cannot imagine what the earl sees in you, Elizabeth. Your manners clearly did not receive any improvement in London. How you managed to convince all of Society that you were a lady--"
"Mama!" Elizabeth said quickly. "It is impolite to leave them alone in a strange house. You should be a gracious hostess. Now please, go and tell them I shall be with them shortly."
Sandy huffed but left her daughter to herself. Elizabeth took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"You can do this," she told her reflection in the mirror.
Inside, however, she was screaming. I am not ready for this. I cannot do this. Robin is not a fool, nor is Lady Grace. They shall know something is wrong when they see you, and when they see you with Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth's heart had nearly broken when Darcy had started avoiding her. She wondered what she had done wrong, for before Richard had recovered, they had spent almost all their afternoons together. And after, it seemed as though Darcy wanted as little to do with her as possible. It felt to her like he had merely been keeping her company because Richard was injured and could not do it himself.
While she was glad to have had the time to talk with her old friend again, Elizabeth was certain that any lingering feelings she had for him were gone forever. And though he did not realize it, she knew he did not love her, either. Though he talked as though he did, Richard unconsciously spent a good part of their conversation talking of what Sabrina thought, and said, and felt. She supposed it was for the best, because once she noticed him doing that, she realized that she spent a good part of their conversation talking of what Darcy thought, felt, and said.
What a pair of fools are we, Elizabeth thought with a wistful smile. We love others but allow everyone to think we love each other. Perhaps we even fool each other into thinking that perhaps we do, but--
"Elizabeth!"
Elizabeth looked up to see Lady Grace standing in the doorway of her room.
Oh God. Oh God. Here I go.
"Lady Grace," she said, rising from her seat and looking at her benefactress. "It is good to see you looking so well."
Lady Grace looked at her closely, frowning. "I wish I could say the same to you, Elizabeth. You are looking positively exhausted. One would think you had traveled to see us, rather than the reverse."
"I...have been having trouble sleeping lately." Desperate, she grasped at a logical reason for this. "The rumours circulating about me...Lady Grace, I am so sorry. I should never have agreed to your idea of a come-out. I should have been happy with--"
"Elizabeth Bennet, if you continue in such a vein I shall be most displeased."
"But this cannot reflect well upon your judgment, good sense, and family name. I dread to think what Robin has suffered--"
"Robin's suffering, as you call it, has been from the insult to you. What people are thinking and saying about him concerns him not. I taught him to be better than that. But you...you are innocent in the ways of London and its people. That you have been hurt by it, and clearly you have been, causes him to suffer."
"Does it?" Elizabeth hoped she did not sound dejected, for to hear that Robin's devotion carried that far further dampened her hopes of being able to talk reasonably to him about calling off the engagement.
"Of course it does. He loves you, Elizabeth. What hurts you hurts him as well." Lady Grace smiled. "But let us not think on that now. I think we have kept him waiting long enough. He shall undoubtedly have worn a path on your floor."
"From my mother's continued fawning rather than waiting to see me. My mother is vexing enough to try the patience of a saint."
"In that case, we should go twice as quickly. As you well know, Robin is no saint."
Elizabeth laughed and motioned for Lady Grace to leave first.
The moment Elizabeth saw the anxious look on Robin's face, she knew that all of her hoping had been in vain. The light shining in his eyes was one she knew quite well, for she saw it in her own eyes when she thought of Mr. Darcy.
What a wretched mess this is, she thought sadly.
"Ah! Here she is now! I told you sending your mother after her would do the trick. Elizabeth has rarely minded me, but your mother seems to have a good influence on her," Sandy said.
Elizabeth blushed and glared at her mother.
"You do not look happy to see me," Robin said softly. "Is something the matter?"
"What could possibly be the matter?" Sandy exclaimed, walking over to her daughter. With a quick pinch to Elizabeth's arm, she hissed, "Smile."
Elizabeth did not smile but said, "There is nothing wrong." Her eyes quickly glanced in her mother's direction, and Robin knew what she meant. His grin widened.
"I understand," he said.
"Well, shall we all sit? I asked my daughter Jane to make something for us, and my daughter Lydia is to be bringing it shortly. I thought tea and some of those little tiny sandwiches would do nicely."
"Thank you," Lady Grace replied.
"I personally do not see how a body survives on those small things, but Jane makes dozens of them for dinner parties and afternoon teas and the guests seem to enjoy them. None of them complain that Mr. Darcy sets a paltry table. Did Elizabeth tell you that before my daughter took over several years ago, I was the head cook at Pemberley? Everyone used to say that Mr. Darcy should hire one of those fancy French chefs but I ask you, what do the French know about good English cooking? A person adds years to their lives by eating that French muck. All those sauces cannot be good for a body. Now my girl Jane, she is such a wonderful cook that people from all over the country have attempted to hire her away from Mr. Darcy. But of course, we could never do that. Bennets have served for the Darcys forever, it seems. And anyway, Jane is to marry Mr. Darcy's valet soon, and she could not possibly leave now."
"Mama," Elizabeth murmured softly, wanting to die of embarrassment. She looked at her guests, neither of whom seemed to be looking down on or laughing at her mother.
"Why did you retire from your duties?" Lady Grace asked politely.
"My husband came into a nice little sum after old Mr. Darcy died. It was a great tragedy, of course, and old Mr. Darcy seemed a bit young to die, but it turned out to be a nice little boon for us. And for Elizabeth. Did she tell you that she has nearly a thousand pounds for a dowry, thanks to him? That should be a nice addition to your fortunes."
"I believe it is nearly two thousand," Elizabeth said through gritted teeth.
"That money shall remain Elizabeth's," Robin said quickly. "To do with as she likes."
"Oh!" Sandy beamed. "Elizabeth, you lucky, lucky girl! Most men would think nothing of taking that money and spending it on Lord knows what, but Lord Denby is going to let you keep it."
"How kind of him," Elizabeth said.
"I suppose that money matters are much too complicated for women, so you shall make sure she does not do something foolish like spend it all on a horse or something?" Sandy was asking Robin.
"Mrs. Bennet, let me assure you that I should have no say in how Elizabeth spends her money."
"And anyway, I have a perfectly good horse in Lying Lydia. I would have no need to buy a new one."
"Elizabeth, how many times have I told you to stop calling that beast by that hideous name? It is insulting to your sister." Sandy looked at their guests. "Forgive my daughter. She tends to forget herself sometimes, but you are probably well aware of that, having spent nearly a year with her."
"Ah, yes, the famous Sweet Liar is housed here," Lady Grace said. "My son talked a great deal about getting a chance to see the horse while we were here. I hear he is a most successful racehorse."
"He is," Elizabeth replied. "Mr. Darcy has given us tremendous help in making Sweet Liar a known name, though horse racing is not one of his favourite pursuits."
"I wonder that you have never tried to achieve similar success with your horse," Robin told her.
"Perhaps I shall take it under consideration." Elizabeth was about to ask Robin if he would like to see the Pemberley stables when the door flew open and Lydia scurried in carrying a picnic basket.
"I have enough duties to do at the main house without being called aside for such nonsense as this," Lydia grumbled as she plunked the basket in front of her sister.
"As Lady Grace and Lord Robin are Mr. Darcy's guests, you would have had to do this service for them anyway," Elizabeth replied, knowing what was really bothering her sister. Lydia had been showing her bad humour since Elizabeth had announced that Lord Robin was coming for her, because Elizabeth was getting everything she, Lydia, had always dreamed about.
Elizabeth knew how her sister's mind worked--in much the same manner as their mother's. Neither Lydia nor Sandy could understand why Elizabeth was being honoured in such a way, when she was the least deserving of it.
With a glare at her sister, Lydia opened the basket and pulled out a covered tray. She plunked it onto the table by Elizabeth and pulled out a second tray. "Some of those horrid cucumber sandwiches and..." Lydia lifted the cover on the other tray. She turned quite pale upon seeing it. "And...please excuse me." She ran from the room.
Sandy frowned, which was a rarity when Lydia was involved. "I wonder what is wrong. If you would excuse me, I should tend to Lydia. She is rarely like this and I know something is the matter." Rising from her seat, Sandy rushed after her youngest child.
Elizabeth took the cover off the second tray, expecting to see something truly disgusting. Yet sitting there, looking wholesome and innocent, was a tray of fresh-baked strawberry tarts. The smell was heavenly.
"I expected to see dead snails from the way she turned white," Robin said, looking eagerly at the food.
"I am so sorry for my mother," Elizabeth said softly. "She is..."
"Er, wonderfully verbal," Robin finished tactfully.
"As for Lydia, I am just as puzzled by her behaviour as my mother. I expected the hostility, but to bolt from the room like that is most unlike her."
"Elizabeth, I think perhaps my son would like to see your horse now. I am certain that the two of you would like to catch up on things." Lady Grace gave them a meaningful smile. "I shall stay here to keep your mother company."
"Did Cuthbert arrange to have your bags taken to the main house?" Elizabeth asked.
"That was the first thing he did upon our arrival. The master of the house was also present to welcome us. I must say that although Mr. Darcy has seemed rather distant in the past, he was most pleasant to us just a while ago."
Elizabeth nodded, as though the information had little interest to her. She said, "I think I would like to talk to Robin alone, and I would like for him to meet my father."
"Excellent! Then we shall--"
"Ah, well, forgive me once again. Lydia was merely feeling unwell. She feels sick sometimes during the summer, nothing to worry about. Where were we?"
"I was just suggesting that Elizabeth and Robin go for a walk around the park. Robin has heard this place compared to our home and would like to form his own opinion."
"And it would give Robin a chance to meet Papa," Elizabeth added.
Sandy sighed heavily. "Yes, of course. My husband. Please forgive him for not being here to meet you, Lady Grace, but Tom is a very busy man. He is the coachman and the stableman for Mr. Darcy, you know."
"So Elizabeth has said."
"Yes, well, mostly he is a stableman, ever since old Mr. Darcy gave him that silly horse in his will. The young master has been most lenient to my family, and I should consider us lucky, or else we would have been turned out without references years ago. Tom spends more time with his horses than he does with the Pemberley ones. Plus, Mr. Darcy has to pay for the food Tom's horses eat and their living space keeps him from having as good as selection as he would like. Plus, Tom has been breeding that horse to--"
"Mama!" Elizabeth gasped. "I do not think Lady Grace would be interested in hearing that. And you know very well that Papa works with Mr. Darcy's horses more than he does Sweet Liar and the other two."
Still, Elizabeth had never given a thought to how inconvenienced Mr. Darcy might be by having Tom's horses in his stable. In addition to that, Mr. Darcy had arranged for Sweet Liar to be transported to the races, had allowed Tom to have time off to ride him, and had never complained once.
How could I have ever thought him uncaring and arrogant? How many other small things does he overlook because he cares for everyone at Pemberley and wants them to be happy? What other man would have the patience and generosity he has?
"I think we should go," Elizabeth said quietly. "Robin?"
Robin bowed politely to the two older women, then offered his arm to Elizabeth. With eager yet trembling hands, she took hold of it and allowed him to escort her out of the house.
They walked in silence for ten seconds.
"Thank goodness we are alone," Robin murmured. "You know every place there is on this estate. Is there a place where we can be assured privacy?"
"I should introduce you to my father first."
"Of course. I would not wish it otherwise."
Elizabeth led him to the stables, where Tom was saddling one of the Pemberley horses.
"Hello, Papa!" Elizabeth called.
"Elizabeth!" Tom walked out of the stall he was in. He stopped when he saw the young man with her. "Excuse my appearance, sir. I thought I would have more time to get presentable before you arrived."
"There is no need for apologies. From the way Elizabeth talked of you when we were in London, I would not have met you any other way. I am Lord Robert Hamilton, sir."
"Thomas Bennet." Tom made his bow but stopped when Robin extended his hand. He was hesitant about whether or not he should shake it, but then told himself not to be foolish. Yes, the man was an earl, but he was also his daughter's fiancé. He shook Robin's hand vigorously. "I take it the two of you are here to get away from the nonstop chattering of my wife."
"Papa," Elizabeth hissed, feeling mortified that her father would say such a thing, even if it was the truth.
Tom realized that he had said the wrong thing, for his daughter was blushing. It only reinforced his belief that it would be best for Elizabeth to get away from here and marry quickly, before her family exposed themselves enough that Lord Robin would call off the wedding.
Robin, however, was gracious as ever. "Your wife talks no more than the more insipid young ladies one meets in London, your daughter being a rare and wonderful exception."
"Papa, Robin has expressed an interest in seeing Sweet Liar," Elizabeth said, before they could continue abusing her sex.
Tom's eyes shone brightly. "Ah, yes. He is right over here. Elizabeth, I am afraid I must leave you to tell him all about Sweet Liar, for with all the excitement Mr. Darcy's horses need attending at the moment. Lord Denby, except for myself there is no one in the world who knows more about Sweet Liar than my daughter."
"But Papa, I thought that you might like to talk--"
"As you pointed out yourself, darling, your father does attend to his own duties before seeing to personal things," Robin said. "Once he is finished here, we can talk."
Tom looked with grateful eyes to the young man. He knew that Robin sensed his discomfort at being dirty and unprepared for such an important visitor. A few moments later, Robin and Elizabeth were watching Tom trot away.
"Alone at last," Robin said, putting his arms around Elizabeth's waist.
"So we are, but someone could come in at any time. The stables are especially busy. Besides, I thought you wanted to see Sweet Liar?"
"I have seen Sweet Liar, last year before I met you. I know almost everything there is to know about the horse, along with Liar's Gamble, called Lying Lydia by her owner, and Sweet Success, who is a favourite to win the B---- Derby this year. I know that Sweet Liar's offspring are selling at a good price because your father is most selective about choosing mares for him, only the best. I would much rather hear about you and what you have been up to. I heard a rumour that you attended Darcy's masquerade ball dressed all in blue with only a mask."
"Who on earth told you that?" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"You did. Do you not remember? The only reason I say it was a rumour is because that is all you told me in your letter about the event."
Elizabeth's cheeks pinkened when she thought of everything else that had occurred that evening--between herself and Richard, then later the incident with Mr. Darcy at the pond.
"Not only did she attend the ball--without an invitation, I might add--she took the ball by storm. Almost like Cinderella in a way," a voice said from the entrance.
Richard stood there, having heard that Robin had arrived. He looked at the man with cool eyes. Robin returned the frosty stare, knowing instinctively that although Elizabeth had reassured him in her letters that there was nothing between them, Richard Fitzwilliam was hoping for more.
"Fitzwilliam," Robin said.
"Denby. Good to see you. I had a feeling you would be here, Elizabeth."
"One of the advantages of having known someone all their life," she replied.
"Speaking of knowing someone all their life, I wanted to ask you if you knew what Georgiana is being so secretive about? I saw her as I was on my way over here and she deliberately hid herself from me."
"You would know her better than I," Elizabeth replied. "She is your cousin, after all."
"Yes, but I have not been here as you have. I thought you might have a perspective I have missed, for there is nothing I can think of that would make her act in such a manner."
"Talk to Mr. Darcy. He would know better than both of us."
"Ah, yes. Speaking of Darcy, my cousin wishes to extend you a dinner invitation. He apologizes for not having done so well before this, but he has--"
"--been most busy planning the engagement party," Elizabeth finished with a weak smile.
"Yes. Should be quite a show. It might even outshine the Pemberley party."
"Only not quite so long," Elizabeth added. "I think Robin has made plans for us to leave two days after the party."
"You shall be leaving so soon?" Richard frowned, not realizing that she would be gone within the week.
"Yes, we must. I cannot be away from my estate for long and as the wedding is to be held there, there are thousands of last-minute details Elizabeth and my mother shall be handling."
The conversation fell dead. Elizabeth avoided meeting either man's eye. Richard did not notice, for he kept both of his eyes on his rival.
Robin, however, picked up on the tension. And for the first time, he worried about it. Elizabeth had been rather skittish since he had arrived. He had not had the opportunity to ask her why.
Robin had known that something was troubling her from her letters. When she had first left for Pemberley, her letters had been light-hearted and full of news, talking of how happy she was to be home with her family and horse.
But soon after the letter in which she talked about the masquerade ball, Robin noticed a change in them. Whereas before she had talked about the wedding with some excitement, she talked of it very little after that. Although a letter was the poorest way to judge someone's feelings, he could almost sense that something was troubling her, and he began to get suspicious. She had mentioned in one of her earlier letters that Richard had arrived to spend the summer at Pemberley. After the ball, there was very little mention of him except to say that he had hurt himself somehow.
When Robin had realized that her letters were different, that she was holding something back, he began to imagine that she was spending all her time with Richard, keeping him company as he mended. In his mind's eye he saw Elizabeth looking at Richard with in a way he had never really seen for himself, not even when she had accepted his proposal. Then he told himself not to be silly. Elizabeth was an honourable young woman, Richard was an honourable man. They were both engaged to other people. Though he could not speak for Richard, he knew Elizabeth would never shame him by eloping with another man.
Now, however, he was beginning to think that his suspicions were legitimate. She could not look at Richard, her lifelong friend, the man she had loved since her childhood. He had to wonder why. Yet she could not look at him, either, and that made him wonder even more. What was she hiding?
Robin watched as the two of them talked of the coming party. Richard talked with ease, Elizabeth with caution. Every so often, when she thought he was not looking, Robin saw her sneaking a look at him, to see how he was reacting.
Were her looks guilty, or was he imagining guilt in them because of what he suspected?
Robin did not know the truth, but he knew who would be able to tell him.
Georgiana slowly let out the breath she had been subconsciously holding as Richard walked by without noticing her. She had feared that he would have invited her to walk with him if he had seen her, and the last thing she wanted today of all days was to miss her meeting with George.
George. Wonderful, loving, sensitive George. Compassionate and caring and he loved her above anything in the world. He had sent her a note through Mrs. Younge saying it was imperative that she meet him today.
She could think of only one reason why he would need to see her so desperately, which was why she was now thanking God that Richard had not seen her.
Georgiana watched Richard walk into the stables and hurried in the other direction, staying as close to the main path in the park as she dared, making her way to the small secluded clearing where George always met her.
Her trip took her past the pond. Georgiana made sure to steer clear of it, since her brother had become overly fond of late of walking there, staring out at the water. Though she kept a good distance away, the sound of a panicked young woman screaming could be heard.
"You cannot do this to me," Georgiana heard her say. "You told me you loved me. You said you wanted to marry me and take me away so we could be together. You promised to show me London and give me everything my sister was going to have."
Georgiana could not hear the man's reply, for he spoke quite softly. Whatever he said did not please the young woman, for she screamed, "You cannot leave! I won't let you leave. I shall tell Mr. Darcy and he shall make you stay and marry me--if not for my sake, then for your child's."
Georgiana blushed and continued on her way. She had a feeling that neither the man nor the woman at the pond would be pleased with her presence. She was still blushing when she reached the place where she was meeting George. She wondered who the young woman had been, and what her brother would do when he discovered...
Good heavens! She had not known that people could have children if they were not married. She always thought being married was required to have children. Georgiana was a bit upset at her own ignorance. Lately, it seemed as though she was always feeling this way, and she knew who was to blame.
Her brother.
George had slowly made her realize that her brother was far too protective of her. She was nearly sixteen and she still had a governess, when girls her age were preparing for their debuts. She was rarely allowed out in company. She had few friends. Very few eligible gentleman had been introduced to her because her brother did not enjoy London and preferred staying at Pemberley. George had said it was possible that she would never marry except for her fortune, for men preferred young women of spirit.
"Like that Eliza Bennet," he said mockingly. "She has not a farthing to her name, except that trifling amount your father bequeathed her in his will, and yet she had London society eating from her hand. They do not see that she is not nearly as interesting as you, my dear."
"My brother--"
"I am sure Darcy agrees with me in this. He never did like the girl. This does not mean, however, that I agree with his methods of raising you."
"He did the best he could. He was very young when our father died." Georgiana felt anger stirring somewhere inside, and resentment that her brother had seemed to curtail any prospects for future marriage, but she still defended him.
"Georgiana, I know what your brother wants for you. He is like your Aunt Catherine. He wants you to marry well. I think he wants you to marry a title with a great fortune and estate. He is keeping you here at Pemberley because when you make your debut, he wants to be able to choose your husband and have you compliant with his choice. That is why you have only been to London occasionally, why your governess insures that you do not spend much time at the parties he gives. He has you trapped in his plans."
"But...would you not say that he is only looking out for my interests? Would your father not want you to marry well?"
George smiled. "That is different. I am not a gentleman's son, for all that I might like to be. Marrying well for me is essential, else I shall have to become a beggar. But you on the other hand have a substantial dowry. You should be able to marry for love, not position. You should marry because your heart tells you that here is the man you want to spend your life with, not because your brother says he would be the best man for you."
"I want to be with you, George," she had said softly.
George took her hand in his and kissed it. "My dear Georgiana! You cannot mean that, though I am flattered that you say so."
"Why do you say that?" Georgiana asked in anger. "By saying that, you imply that I do not know my own mind when you have just finished telling me that I should be true to myself! I love you, George. I mean that."
George took her in his arms. "Forgive me, my darling. I did not mean to mock you. I just want you to be certain that I am who you want."
"You are everything I want."
"I am also the last person in the world your brother would want for you. Are you certain you are not doing this just to spite him?"
"I would never use you in such a fashion!" Georgiana cried. "I love you, George. You mean everything to me."
Georgiana blushed with pleasure when she remembered that he had kissed her then. Her first kiss.
"We must tell my brother of this wonderful--"
"No!" George said in horror. "Georgiana, we cannot tell your brother anything. Do you not remember that he no longer considers me his friend? That he did everything in his power to prevent me from marrying your friend Miss Tysen? If you told him, he would never let me see you again."
Georgiana's eyes had widened in horror. "I am sorry. I forgot," she said.
"Say nothing for now. I shall make arrangements for us to go to Gretna Green. It is our only option."
She nodded.
"When do you think you should be able to slip away unnoticed?"
"I...I do not..." Georgiana thought for a moment. "The night of the engagement party. My brother has been so involved in the planning that he should probably be too worried about how things are going to notice if I were to leave."
"Then I shall arrange for us to leave then."
Now he had asked to see her. Georgiana feared that he had changed his mind, and that was why he wanted to see her today.
"Georgiana!"
She looked to where George was coming through the woods. The moment he reached the edge of the clearing, she ran into his arms. "George! I feared you were not coming!"
"Of course I was coming," he said softly, burying his face in her beautiful red hair. "I shall never leave you, darling. I have good news for you." He pulled away slightly so he could look at her face. "Mrs. Younge and I have made all the arrangements. By next week, you shall be Mrs. George Wickham and I shall be the happiest man on earth."