Beginning, Section II, Section III, Next Section
Chapter 16
I like your game but we have to change the rules.
Darcy was in his study, reading a book when Lucas threw open the door peremptorily and stood on the threshold, grinning. Darcy didn't even blink an eye. "Welcome to London," he said unenthusiastically.
Lucas's grin widened. "Well, thank you, Darce. I was worried there wouldn't be a receiving party." He closed the door behind him as he wandered into the room, looking in all directions. "What, no decorations?"
A slight smile appeared on Darcy's lips as he returned his gaze to his book. "I'm sorry, I didn't have enough time to put them up."
"Oh, that's fine," Lucas said with a shrug. "I don't really need them. Actually, I had come here to bring happy news."
"What, are you finally going to do something with your life?"
Lucas sighed dramatically and clutched his heart. "I am wounded, Darcy, I am wounded. Am I, then, such a useless person? Perhaps I shall simply return to my bed and grieve my inconsequentiality until I waste away and die."
"Oh, would you please?" Darcy asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Lucas shook his head slowly as he gazed bemusedly at his friend. "It seems you are none the worse for wear after your escapade in Hertfordshire. Or have you forgotten it all already?" At Darcy's shrug, Lucas smiled. "You know, you are now the hero of Meryton. They all think that you are a top-of-the-trees gent."
"You are so crude, Lucas," Darcy said tiredly.
"Oh, and speaking of Hertfordshire, guess what news I bear," Lucas said, excitement plain in his voice.
Darcy didn't remove his eyes from the page. "Please tell, Lucas. I am all-atwitter with the excitement of suspense. Oh tell me, tell me, please," Darcy said in a bored tone of voice.
"I knew you would be excited, Darce," Lucas said, laughing. "Now, try and guess who is in London."
Darcy sighed and set aside his book. "I don't know Lucas, why don't you tell me instead of playing this childish game of, 'Let's make Darcy look brainless and dense.'"
Lucas smiled. "You are no fun, Darce. I ought to have remembered that before I started. I guess I shall simply have to go and take my news elsewhere." And with a sniff of indignation, Lucas began to walk towards the door, his nose high in the air, indignant pride written in every line of his stance.
Darcy sighed and called him back. Lucas looked over his shoulder, a doubtful look on his face, but then laughed and turned around. He sat down on Darcy's armrest and leaned his elbow on Darcy's head. "Now, as I was saying, you will be excited to learn who has come to London just a day ago."
"Well?" Darcy asked after the information was not forthcoming.
"Well, guess," Lucas prompted.
Darcy sighed heavily. "I don't know-you."
Lucas shook his head with a grin. "Close, but not quite. I just arrived this morning."
"Bingley?"
"Nope. He came with me."
A grimace. "Miss Bingley?"
"Thank goodness, no."
Darcy held up his hands in exasperation. "I don't know, Lucas. Tell me." He tilted his head back and looked up at his friend, and at the expression on Lucas' grinning face, Darcy's knuckles gripped the chair, and his eyes looked at his friend expectantly, eagerly. "Elizabeth is in London?" He shot out of the chair at his friend's nod and gripped him by the shoulders. "Are you telling me true? Is she really here?"
"Get control of yourself," Lucas said lightly, peeling Darcy's hands from his shoulders and brushing off his fine tailored coat. "You act as if you haven't seen her in years."
"Seems like it," Darcy muttered to himself, but Lucas heard it and smiled.
"I am returning to the Gardiners' house this afternoon, to take Miss Bennet out for a carriage ride. Would you like to come with?"
Darcy hesitated and shook his head. "No, I think I'd rather not. Or at least, I think she'd rather I did not. And besides, I have an...appointment this afternoon." Lucas waited in silence as Darcy began to pace the floor. "Even if I wished to go, I do not think I could bear it, to go to their house only to see her condemnation for acting like such a fool the last time we met. I still cannot believe that I did something so daft."
"No one blames you for it," Lucas began.
"I blame myself!" Darcy cried, spinning to confront his friend. "I blame myself, Lucas. I never should have lost control of my temper like that, never should have allowed him to provoke me like that. He knows now my weakness, my vulnerability. He can exploit that."
"We all lose control of our emotions sometimes, Darcy. It's human nature to do so."
"But it's not acceptable for me to do so."
"And what makes you so different from the rest of us, huh, Darce? What makes it so that you must be flawless, while the rest of us must wallow in our imperfection?"
Darcy looked down at his toes. "Because of who I am."
"And who are you?" Lucas prodded.
"I am Fitzwilliam Darcy," he replied, looking up at his friend with unflinching directness. "You wouldn't understand, Lucas. You had a different upbringing. And despite the fact that you are heir to a dukedom, your grandfather never raised you that way. You were never bothered by the demands of responsibility and the social class mindset. You are your own person devoid of obligations, devoid of duty. The only thing you take seriously is your honour. And that you hardly ever worry about."
Lucas sighed. "I know this is difficult for you to imagine, but I do have responsibilities, and I do notice how other people look at me, the way they see me. As to my responsibilities, I only choose those that are the most important, and I devote all of my time to them until they are completed. I simply have not had many heretofore. As to my appearance, to tell the truth, Darce, I don't give a fig what they think of me. Sure I notice, but I believe in the right to one's own opinion. As long as my friends or I are not disturbed by someone's opinion, it does not matter. But the moment they harass me with it, I defend my own, and never you doubt it."
Darcy was silent after this speech, and after a short while, turned to stare pensively out the window. He looked out over the garden below, his hands clasped behind his back, a thoughtful expression on his face. Suddenly, he turned around. "Your wrist must be hurting you, mustn't it?"
Lucas looked quite puzzled at this sudden incomprehensible outburst, and after a few moments of thought shook his head. "No, actually, I've never had a problem with it."
"Oh, but you have. Today. You twisted it just now, and cannot take Miss Elizabeth for a ride through the park." He sighed dramatically and shrugged. "Apparently you will either have to cancel your appointment, or perhaps send someone in your stead."
Lucas laughed. "You are more diabolical than I am, Darcy. Perhaps my wrist is hurting me rather much. I think I shall stop at Bingley's and ask him to take her to the park for me."
"Oh!" cried Darcy, stepping forward, his arm stretched out. "But why go to all that trouble, when I just happen to have the afternoon free?"
"But what of your appointment?" Lucas asked with a sly smile.
Darcy looked puzzled at first, then recovered gracefully. "I can cancel it easily. After all, I have been working much too hard these past few days. I need some time outside, interact with people, you know. I shall take Miss Bennet in my new curricle. Why do you not write a note that I can give her to explain your absence?"
Lucas smiled innocently. "But I cannot write. My wrist is sprained."
"You sprained your left. You can write with your right hand."
"Thank you for clearing that up," Lucas laughed as he strode to the desk and jotted a quick note. He folded it and handed it to his friend before going to the door and opening it. He stopped and turned before going through. "She'll be waiting for you at four o'clock; don't be late. And may I suggest your cream coloured breeches with your green jacket? I always thought that it looked nice on you." And with a final smile and a sharp salute, he left the room. Darcy remained where he was, gazing satisfactorily at the door for a few minutes, tapping the paper against his palm, before he chuckled to himself and went upstairs to change for his ride in the park.
Chapter 17
Clothes make the man.
Naked people have little or no influence on society.
~ Mark Twain
Darcy gazed at himself in the mirror, turning this way and that, adjusting his waistcoat or tugging on his jacket. At last he took the cravat cloth from his valet and tied a nearly flawless mathematical knot. He looked at himself again and frowned. "What is wrong with my appearance, Dawkins? I am clean-shaven, I have on matching clothes, my hair is combed, and my jacket is impeccably pressed. Why do I look so awkward?"
"Perhaps you are nervous, Sir?" Dawkins offered.
Darcy grimaced. "I suppose I might be. How can I change that, do you think?"
Dawkins smiled. "Just take a few deep breaths, Sir, and you'll be fine. I am sure you will have a delightful time with your lady."
"She's not my lady," Darcy said as he ran a hand through his hair, tousling his perfect combing job. "Well, not yet, at least. Someday, I hope."
"And how could she refuse a fine gent such as you?" Dawkins asked as he finished brushing off the coat.
"Indeed, indeed," murmured Darcy, not quite as confident as his valet. "Thank you, Dawkins," he said at length, giving himself a final looking-over before turning around. "I shall be back before I must go to dinner tonight."
"Where will that be, Sir?"
Darcy thought for a moment. "I believe at Lady Wolverton's. She was a good friend of my mother," he said for unnecessary clarification. But Dawkins just nodded and stepped back as Darcy combed his hair once more before setting it back down upon the vanity. "Well, Dawkins, here I go!" He smiled brightly once more and left the room.
He saw that his curricle was waiting outside when he reached the bottom of the stairs. His butler was waiting at the door, Darcy's gloves, coat, and top hat in hand. He helped Darcy into his coat and handed him the gloves and hat, then stepped back as Darcy went through the door. "Good luck, sir!" he called, and Darcy looked back with a smile and wave. Mrs. Floss came to stand beside the butler as they watched the pair of grey dappled horses pull the curricle away from the curb and into the street. "Well, my dear Mr. Tomlin, I do believe the master's in love."
The butler turned with a smile. "If you've just noticed that now, Mrs. Floss, I am sorely disappointed in your skills of perception. Why, he's been head over heels even before he stepped into this house a few days ago."
The housekeeper shook her head. "Yes, but this is the first time he's doing something about it."
Darcy arrived upon the doorstep of the Gardiner's townhouse and stood there for a moment, his gloves in hand, hesitating. At last he rapped smartly on the door, and it was opened by a woman he assumed to be the housekeeper. He gave her his card and she let him into the foyer while she went in to tell the master and mistress that there was a visitor. At last she came back and took him to a room he assumed to be the front parlour. It was very well furnished and tasteful, unlike the often gaudy and ornate rooms of the houses of the rich.
There were six people in the room when he was shown in. Most were holding teacups and talking, though there was complete silence when he entered the room. He recognised the three Bennet girls and Mrs. Bennet, but the other gentleman and lady were strangers to him, though he assumed them to be the master and mistress of the house. He was proven correct in that regard when Mrs. Bennet stood to do the introductions, albeit reluctantly. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were genteel, definitely refined individuals, and Darcy found that he relaxed quite a bit after only a short while in their company. When Mrs. Gardiner discovered that he was from Derbyshire and lived at an estate very close to the town in which she was born, they had much to talk about. And when Mr. Gardiner expressed his like of the sport of fishing, Darcy found that he liked the gentleman even more than before, for they now had something in common.
It was a while before there was finally a lull in the conversation, and in that short pause, he heard Elizabeth say to her mother that she wondered if Lord Harding was going to forget his promise, for it was already thirty minutes after the hour. Darcy flushed with embarrassment as he recalled his purpose for coming. He stood up immediately and went towards Elizabeth, feeling slightly awkward in the silence with everyone's eyes upon him, and handed her the note from Lucas. She stared at him curiously for a few moments as she took the proffered letter, then opened it quickly and perused the contents. A slight blush crept into her cheeks and when she finished, she stuffed it quickly in her pocket and looked around guiltily, which made Darcy wonder what his friend had put in the note.
"My curricle is waiting outside, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said nervously, lest she find some reason to refuse to go with him.
He need not have been afraid, for she stood up quietly, murmured something about her pelisse and parasol, and went quickly from the room. Darcy turned and found everyone looking at him curiously, and he felt the need to explain. "Lord Harding had a slight accident and sprained his wrist. He asked me to come in his stead."
Mrs. Gardiner expressed a wish that his wrist was healed soon, as did Mrs. Bennet and Jane, and Darcy took them as graciously as possible. At last Elizabeth returned, and he escorted her outside where his groom was holding a pair of prancing and nervous horses. Darcy helped Elizabeth onto the seat, then went around and jumped onto the other side, taking the reins from his grateful tiger. As soon as the groom had jumped on the back of the curricle, Darcy slapped the reins and they began to move into the traffic.
There were many people still in Hyde Park by the time they arrived even though it was early in the little season, a few parading about on the walks, most in curricles and phaetons. Elizabeth looked around in avid curiosity. There were so many rich and aristocratic people here, showing off to others, and just as curious about who was with everyone else. Friends called to each other from different carriages, and hold-ups were caused by people who stopped beside each other to talk. Yet no one cared, for the purpose of being in Hyde Park at this time of the day was to see and be seen. And by always moving, one was never going to be seen.
Darcy hadn't spoken for a while, other than the occasional comment about the beautiful weather, or pointing out an influential member of the ton, or one of the season's Originals. Elizabeth for the most part listened to his remarks or looked curiously at the other people. But then she said something that caught Darcy off-guard.
"How exactly did Lord Harding hurt his wrist, again?"
Darcy was in a panic. He had never thought of having to explain how it happened. He thought quickly. "Well, I wasn't there when it had happened..."
"Oh, but Lucas wrote that you were," Elizabeth pointed out. When Darcy looked questioningly at her, she sighed: "In his note."
"Oh, yes," Darcy said, trying to thin of a plausible excuse. "Well, I was there, I mean. I just hadn't seen the accident happen."
Elizabeth looked confused, and he bit his lip, his mind spinning rapidly. "He had been coming into the library, intent on telling me that you were in town, when he tripped over a book that happened to be lying on the floor. He put his hand out to catch himself, and twisted his wrist as he landed." He smiled in relief as she nodded thoughtfully, accepting his hasty explanation.
They rode for a bit in silence before Darcy asked her what had brought them to London. She explained about her sisters' trousseaus and he nodded. He asked her if she had any engagements the following evening, and she said she had not, so he asked her if she and her sisters would wish to go to the theatre with his sister and him. She smiled and said that she would, though she was unsure whether Mary would wish to attend. Darcy smiled to himself and allowed them to continue in silence.
Elizabeth, after a while, asked him about his estate in Derbyshire-the one that he had been talking to her aunt about. Darcy smiled at this evidence that she had been eavesdropping on his conversation with Mrs. Gardiner, and told her about Pemberley. He talked at length about it before he realised that he was taking up the whole of the conversation. And yet Elizabeth didn't seem to mind, for she was listening as avidly to his description as she had been watching the people before.
They had ridden down a more sheltered lane of the park, and as their eyes met, Darcy found that it was the most natural thing in the world to let the horses stop as he leaned over and, putting a hand behind her neck, let his lips brush hers. When she didn't protest, he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers. He felt her shiver slightly, and he broke off the kiss and drew back, catching her eye. She turned her face away as a bright flush stole into her cheeks. He felt the keenest disappointment and guilt as he let his hand drop and sat back on the perch. He took up the reins again, and they continued down the lane, both still silent.
It wasn't until they turned back onto the main thoroughfare that Darcy spoke. "Please forgive me, Miss Bennet," he said stiffly. "I apologise for my forwardness. It was quite ungentleman-like of me, and I beg your pardon."
She didn't respond, and he felt an unreasonable anger creep into his chest. They rode back to Gracechurch Street in silence, and after handing the reins to his tiger, he hopped out and went around to help Elizabeth from the carriage. His fingers burned as he set his hands at her waist to assist her. As he placed her feet on the ground, their eyes met, and he tried to read the emotions in her eyes, but they were indecipherable. He stepped back and offered her his arm, and they went up the stairs to the door, which had already been opened for them.
He was taking his leave of her in the foyer, when he heard a familiar voice floating from the direction of the parlour. He stiffened and looked at her in question, but she seemed puzzled as well. They both looked up as a door opened, and Lucas stood at the threshold. "Ah! They are back!" he cried with a smile. "And how was the carriage ride?"
He didn't give Darcy a chance to answer before he had come forward and kissed Elizabeth's hand. "Why don't we return to the parlour, where we can talk more about it." He tucked her hand under his arm and began walking in that direction. He stopped after a few steps and looked over his shoulder at Darcy. "I couldn't resist, you know. I had to see how you treated my Elizabeth. And don't worry about the wrist, Darcy," he said, holding up a bandaged arm. "These things heal quickly, I am told."
Chapter 18
Never waste jealousy on a real man: it is the imaginary
man that supplants us all in the long run.
~ George Bernard Shaw
Darcy stood near the wall of the drawing room as the other guests mingled and talked. He hadn't really enjoyed this dinner very much, despite the fact that he was very fond of Lady Wolverton-a woman who had become almost like his mother after her death. The other guests here had been close acquaintances of his in the past, and he had often found their company to be enjoyable at worst. But today he was not in the mood.
"Why such a long face, my dear Fitzwilliam?" asked a voice. Darcy turned to see Lady Wolverton at his side, her expression a mask of concern. He shook his head slowly. "Lady problems?"
He smiled humourlessly. "I suppose you might say that."
"Who is it this time?" she asked with a sigh.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he responded softly.
She looked slightly confused. "I don't think I have ever heard of her, Fitzwilliam. Is she an Honourable?"
"She doesn't have a title at all."
"Well then, is she making her come-out?"
He shook his head. "She is the daughter of a country gentleman. She has one uncle in trade, another a country attorney. She is in town with her mother and two sisters, who are getting married."
Lady Wolverton looked taken aback. "You fell in love with a country nobody?"
"It wasn't exactly my choice," Darcy replied tersely.
"Yes, but surely you cannot be thinking of asking her to marry you," she said in surprise.
He turned to her. "Even if I was planning on doing so, I have no assurance that she would accept me."
"Not accept you?" Lady Wolverton asked in shock. "Why in heaven's name would any lowly country girl not accept you, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley? If I were she, I would be begging you to marry me."
"She's not so mercenary as you would like to imagine, Julianna. She would be the kind of person to refuse me, simply because she did not love me. She doesn't care about money or titles. In fact, she is quite impertinent to Lucas."
"Lord Harding?" she laughed. "I'm sure that boy is as disreputable as ever. But, as you say, he is a duke's heir, and if she can be rude to him, she would have no compunction in refusing one such as you." Darcy didn't respond, and she tapped his arm with her fan. "Oh, and speaking of Lucas, guess who is in town?"
Darcy looked over in surprise. "Don't tell me that Grandpops is here?"
She laughed. "Yes, the redoubtable Duke of Kilroy is in town. And he's already stirring up the gossips. It seems that just yesterday he had the temerity to order two dozen roses, and had them all delivered to the Countess Stanholpe. Was her husband incensed!" She laughed lightly. "Even if the whole of London wasn't aware of their former love affair, they surely have found out by now. But it's all in good fun. Lady Jersey's quite put out, though. For you know that she once had a thing for the duke."
"I am sure Lucas is surprised to find his grandfather here. When is the last time the duke came to London?"
Lady Wolverton thought. "Well, I think it was nearly seven years ago, when Lucas had gotten in trouble with that one earls' daughter. Oh, was that fun! I couldn't believe it when I first found out that the daughter had lied about the whole thing. It seems she had found herself with child, but it wasn't Lord Harding's child-it was the footman's! But when Lucas was able to give a iron-clad alibi for the night that she claimed he had seduced her-from his mistress and coachman, no less!-what was she supposed to do?"
Darcy grimaced, remembering that harrowing week, when Grandpops had come to town and nearly flayed his grandson alive for doing something so ineffably stupid. But when the truth came out, he apologised generously to Lucas, and even went so far as to buy Lucas another townhouse. Lucas ended up selling it and giving the proceeds to an orphanage, but he never told anyone that except Darcy.
"But returning to your problem, Fitzwilliam, what makes you think that she would refuse you? Can you honestly say that she dislikes you? I can't imagine why. You are quite handsome, and generous, and patient, and kind..."
"I kissed her today," he said quietly. At her raised brow, he continued: "While we were in the park-"
"Has God granted you no sense, boy? What if someone had seen you?"
"No one did, Lady Wolverton. I had taken her for a carriage ride in the park because Lucas had to cancel."
"Oh, why?" she asked, and he blushed.
"He sprained his wrist," he explained. "And so I went in his stead, and while we were on one of the lanes, I kissed her. She-she obviously hadn't appreciated my efforts," he said awkwardly.
"I won't ask," Lady Wolverton said with a shrug. "But I think that perhaps it was only out of surprise. After all, it is not every day that one receives a stolen kiss from a handsome gentleman like you. But I had best be off. Lord Helverly appears to need some help escaping the dreary Viscountess Holden."
Darcy watched the woman cross the room and stop next to a gentleman who appeared bored out of his mind as a lady in purple talked loudly at him. Darcy sighed and followed her. There was nothing left to do here than pay his respects and leave. He was tired of all of this. He simply wanted to go home and sleep in his comfortable-but lonely-bed.
He called for his carriage and when it arrived, he entered it and reclined on the velvet squabs. It had been a trying day, at best. His encounter with Elizabeth in Hyde Park had been the worst of it. It wasn't that his memory of their kiss was bad-in fact that was the highlight of the day. It was the aftermath. He couldn't imagine what she thought of him now. If her opinion of him was low after the encounter with Wickham, it was now down in the cesspits. He'd rather not dwell on it.
And when he had delivered her back to the Gardiner's, he had felt an unreasonable anger that Lucas had come. He saw the relieved expression on Elizabeth's face when she saw him enter the foyer, and the light that had come into her eyes when he kissed her hand. What if she had fallen in love with-of all people-Lucas? He didn't know if he could bear that. To know that his best friend had once again stolen a woman from beneath his very nose. Lucas knew how much Elizabeth meant to Darcy; in fact, he had sought the information most readily.
He was jealous. Yes, jealous of the close friendship the two had forged. And he was nowhere near gaining such a place in Elizabeth's heart, he knew. He hated the fact that Lucas was the one who had once again found his way into a woman's heart, and not him. And this was the one time that Darcy could not accept defeat, would not accept defeat. He would gain Elizabeth's hand-and heart-if it took him the rest of his life.
Lucas walked wearily up the steps to his elegant London townhouse at the early hours of the morning. He had been up all night making his usual rounds, and he was glad to be seeking his own bed. He was only irritated that he had so few hours to spend in it.
He recognised the voice that greeted him the moment he closed the front door softly behind him. He turned around to face the imposing figure of his grandfather. He smiled tiredly and made to walk around him in the direction of the stairs. "Do not mind me, Grandpops. I will take myself off to bed, and we shall discuss whatever you wish in the morning, shall we?"
"This is the morning, Lucas, and I would prefer to discuss it now."
His grandfather's booming voice made Lucas's head reverberate and ache with all of the liquor he had managed to imbibe during the night. He grimaced and held a hand to still the painful pounding in his skull. "All right, Grandpops. Just lower your voice, please. We'll go to my study."
He gestured for his grandfather to follow him, and proceeded to his study. He closed the door softly behind them both, then went to sit behind his desk after offering his grandfather a comfortable chair before it. After slouching in the chair, he looked up. "Now, what is it that you wish to ask me?"
"I thought you had finally grown up, Lucas."
"I have," Lucas replied with a grin. "Now I'm an older rakehell."
The duke grimaced. "Lucas, you will be the death of me. Even I wasn't so jaded when I was your age. In fact, I had settled down with Victoria, and she had already bore me a son."
Lucas groaned and folded his arms on the desk, laying his head facedown upon them. "Do not tell me that you are suddenly going to become like all of the other parents of the ton," came his muffled voice. "I have lived thus far without your harping. A few more years won't harm anyone."
"I knew you would say that," the duke said with a sigh. "I have never pressured you, it is true. But now I wish I had. I want a grandchild, Lucas, before I die. I want to see a baby again at the Kilroy estate. Can you not find one lady that would do? I won't even say that she has to be some Miss from the marriage mart. In fact, I'd prefer it if she was not. And yet, I would be quite reluctant for some peasant to find her way to being the duchess. And don't even think about any of your former mistresses, or an actress you find pleasing. No, I would rather it be someone with at least traceable bloodlines."
Lucas looked up, a bright smile on his face. "I'm sure I can do that for you, Grandpops. When do you need her by?"
The duke narrowed his eyes at his grandson. "You make it sound as if I'm ordering a new wardrobe. I simply wish you to be on the lookout."
Lucas nodded. "I can do that. But I cannot believe that you came all the way to London to tell me that."
"Of course not, Lucas. Are you daft, boy? I came to have some fun. After your last letter from Hertfordshire, I couldn't help but come to join the action. I merely stopped in London to deliver some flowers. I was going to continue on to Hertfordshire this morning, but then I caught word that you were here, so I stopped by."
"At this time of the morning?" Lucas said, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"Close your mouth, boy. Didn't I teach you any manners?" the duke said with some exasperation. "As to your question, no. I have been waiting here since about seven last night. I helped myself to your cook's fine dining, and took advantage of one of the guest rooms, and was up to wait for you since about two o'clock. I knew you wouldn't return until then if I knew anything about you. So, tell me. What is the whole story?"
Chapter 19
They told me I was gullible...and I believed them!
Elizabeth sat in the window seat of the upstairs bedroom she was sharing with Jane. Her mother and sisters had left earlier that afternoon to do some shopping. They were to visit modesties and milliners and mantua makers and who knows what else. Truthfully, Elizabeth had no interest whatsoever in those proceedings. Especially after yesterday.
What is it about men? You give them a smile, and they expect the world. She had been doing nothing more encouraging than listening politely to his interesting description of his estate, and all of a sudden he was kissing her! She had been surprised, to say the least.
She wouldn't go so far as to say that the experience had been unpleasant. In fact, it had been quite pleasant. The feel of his lips pressed lightly to hers...it made her shiver even now. But suddenly, he had pulled away and acted as if he regretted it. Regretted it! Here she had been thinking that the best thing in the world had just happened between them, and he was apologising for it. He was apologising for making her like him! It made her want to slap him-hard.
If she had been the more suspicious type, she would definitely have said that there was something quite odd about Lucas' alleged sprained wrist. First of all, the stories that the two of them had told were quite close, but there were discrepancies. If she were like Jane, she would simply accept them both, saying that since Mr. Darcy had not seen it happen, he could not rightly say what had happened exactly. But still, especially with the fact that she had caught Lucas red-handed with his matchmaking scheme of putting her and Mr. Darcy together, she was inclined to be more suspicious than usual. Yes, there was something strange going on.
And the note...oh dear, where was that note? Elizabeth stood up, searching her pockets for it. It wasn't there. She went over to where her frock from yesterday hung, and searched those pockets. It wasn't there either. She stood in thought for a few moments. Where could she have put it? She remembered stuffing it in her pocket yesterday as she sat in the parlour with everyone, then excusing herself and coming up to her room to find her pelisse and parasol. Had she put it away then? She didn't recall doing so. Well, there hadn't been anything too incriminating in it, anyway. She might have dropped it on the stairs or whatnot, and a servant would have simply burned it, for her name hadn't been on it. It doesn't really matter.
Elizabeth sat down again on the window seat just in time to see a carriage pull up to the curb outside the house, a ducal crest painted on the door. Elizabeth gasped in shock as she watched an older gentleman emerge, then Lucas. What in Heaven's name could he be doing here? And was that his grandfather? Oh, good Lord. She was in no way dressed for an audience with a duke! Elizabeth quickly ran to her wardrobe and pulled out one of her better looking gowns and laid it on the bed as she pulled the bell-pull for her maid. She tried to unbutton her dress, but ended up having to wait for Elise to arrive. She quickly changed, and was finished just in time for the summons to the parlour, where she was told Lord Harding and the Duke of Kilroy were awaiting her. Elizabeth ran down the stairs, stood before the closed doors, taking a few deeps breaths, then smiled nonchalantly and indicated to the housekeeper that she was ready to go in.
She entered the room with only a modicum of trepidation. But the duke's smile was enough to set her at ease. Lucas introduced them both, and she curtsied low to him. He held out his hand to her and drew her a bit closer. "Ah, yes. You are quite beautiful, as my son told me. You will be perfect."
"Perfect?" Elizabeth asked in puzzlement. "Perfect for what, my lord?"
"Why, perfect for my son, of course," the duke replied with enthusiasm.
Lucas looked at his grandfather in stupefaction, and Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "I-I-I'm sorry, sir-I mean, my lord. But I think there must be some mistake-"
"Of course there isn't," replied the duke self-assuredly with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Lucas here was quite eloquent in his description of you last night. I received the distinct impression that you two were engaged. Of course it's not official, I understand, for he didn't say anything of his asking your father for your hand yet, but I understand. Young love, and that. Although, he ought to do it soon, for with your beauty, it would be a wonder if there weren't dozens of suitors within the week, if there aren't already. Have you planned to go any balls?"
"Well, no, but-"
"You should. I could ask some of my dear friends to send you an invitation, and Lucas may escort you. I believe Heloise-Lady Stanholpe, you know-is hosting a ball next week. She would be kind enough to put you on the list, I am sure. After all, she never could refuse me anything." He looked around then and saw a chair, so he sat down in it. Elizabeth had no other choice but to seat herself as well, and gestured for Lucas to do the same. She noticed his look of stunned disbelief and felt pity for him, though she was a bit angry for getting them into this predicament.
"Grandpops, I told you," Lucas began, "there's nothing between us but friendship."
"Friendship, schmendship," the duke replied, scoffing. "You expect me to believe that? Men and women cannot be friends. They can either be relatives, suitors, spouses, or lovers, oh! Ahem, sorry," he said, flushing as he caught sight of Elizabeth's expression. "But seriously. You don't have to deny it to me. After all, I'm your grandfather-and soon to be yours, missy. I'm just glad that you decided on your own to respect your duty, Lucas. Shows responsibility, you know. She'll be a fine breeder."
"Grandpops!"
Elizabeth blushed fiercely. This was not going as planned. In fact she had never expected to meet his grandfather, much less be mistaken by him for Lucas' future wife. This was a disaster. There wasn't much else that could go wrong. Or so she thought.
"So when will you go to her father so that you can announce the engagement?" the duke asked just as the door opened and the housekeeper announced, "Mr. Darcy."
Elizabeth looked up in embarrassment as she saw Darcy standing on the threshold. Their gazes clashed, and she saw a wealth of emotions written there-shock, annoyance, defeat, and regret. He stood stock-still in the doorway as the duke stood and went forward to greet him. "How are you, Fitzwilliam my boy? Have you heard the news already?" He replied that he had not. "Well then, congratulate my grandson, for he is engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Have you met?" Darcy met her gaze again, his eyes now blazing with something akin to censure. "Oh, but of course you have, or you wouldn't come calling, am I right?"
Mr. Darcy acknowledged this, then looked at Lucas. He congratulated him stiffly, then turned and walked to where Elizabeth was now standing. She hadn't even realised she had lifted her arm when she saw it in his grasp as he bowed over it, looking directly into her eyes the whole time. There was such a mixture of disappointment and grief in his eyes that she reached out involuntarily with her other hand, but he had already released her hand and was walking away. He stopped at the door when the duke called out to him: "What, are you leaving so soon? But you have barely been here five minutes."
Darcy looked over his shoulder at them. "I've heard all I need to. Oh, and Miss Bennet?" She looked up at him expectantly. "I assume this means you do not wish to go to the theatre tonight?"
"No!" she said quickly. "No, I am still willing to go. This-"
"Then my sister and I will be here at seven." And with a quick bow to the general room, he turned again and left the room.
Elizabeth collapsed into the chair again. The rest of the room was completely silent until Lucas said, "I think I should go after him." He rushed out of the room and out the door, but the carriage Darcy had come in was already pulling away. Elizabeth looked up at the duke, whose expression of what she only realised later to be triumph was quickly erased from his face.
"Lord Kilroy-"
"Call me David," the duke said as he sat down in a chair.
"David, then," she began with a sigh. "I do not mean this in a bad way. Your grandson is a good person, a wonderful person...but we're not engaged. We could never be engaged. We are not compatible. We are not to be married."
"What? You can't be serious, my dear. Of course you are."
"Why do you insist on believing this falsehood, my lord?" Elizabeth cried in exasperation, leaving her chair and pacing before him. "We are not engaged, and have never planned to be. We are simply friends. In fact, your grandson was even trying to match me with Mr. Darcy until very recently."
The duke scoffed at that. "Oh, pish-posh. And next you are going to tell me that you would rather marry him than you would marry Lucas, the heir to a dukedom."
"Yes, actually I would! I am more in love with Mr. Darcy than I could ever be with Lord Harding!"
Elizabeth hadn't even realised what she had said until she saw the matching grins on the faces of both grandfather and grandson. She looked at them both in mute disbelief. "See, Grandpops?" Lucas said, still grinning. "I told you she loved him."
"I can see what you mean, Lucas. They're both head over heels for each other. And they don't even know it."
"You-you-you did this all on purpose?" Elizabeth asked, stunned. "You made that all up? You knew that we weren't engaged?"
"I think she's catching on," said the duke, looking over his shoulder at Lucas, who nodded.
"You're despicable! You're a pair of devils-the both of you!"
"Like grandfather, like grandson," Lucas said with a smirk.
"How am I ever going to explain this? He won't listen to me," Elizabeth said in despair, sinking again into the plush chair.
Lucas and his grandfather exchanged a glance. "We'll think of something, I'm sure."
Elizabeth looked up, a determined expression on her face. "Oh, no, you won't. You've done enough already, Lucas. If it weren't for you, none of this would be happening in the first place."
Lucas grinned. "You're right; none of this would be happening. You have us to thank for it."
She pursed her lips in annoyance. "Thank? I don't think so. I would rather none of this had happened, and I was still at home, safe in the knowledge that life is perfect! Instead, I am sitting here in London, waiting for my sisters to return from their shopping, listening to two men declare that they know what is best for me. Which they don't, I might add."
"You might remember, Elizabeth," Lucas pointed out, "that I was instrumental in both of the matches your sisters made. I pressured Bingley into asking your sister, and if it weren't for me, Mr. Collins would have selected you long ago, and Mary would have been left in the dust. You see, I know exactly what was going on, and I changed everything. So don't give me short shrift."
Elizabeth glared at him. "Things would have worked out this way had you not come to Hertfordshire and messed everything up."
"I don't know..."
"Well it doesn't matter now, does it?" she asked. "Whatever happened before is irrelevant. What is important is that you have made a mess of things again, and now I am the one to clean it all up. Or not. Perhaps I shall simply return to Longbourn, and forget about everything."
"No!" cried both the men at once. Lucas looked at his grandfather, then turned again to Elizabeth. "You can't do that. Things are working out perfectly. You love Darcy, and Darcy definitely is in love with you. The look on his face yesterday when he came back from the carriage ride-"
"Speaking of which," Elizabeth said suddenly, "I thought you had hurt your left wrist."
Lucas looked down at his right wrist, which he had bandaged again that morning. "Uh, no. It was the right," he said, whilst kicking himself mentally.
"No, it was your left hand. I remember it clearly. You didn't hurt your hand at all, did you?"
"Er, we had better be going, don't you think, Grandpops?"
The duke looked amused. "Actually, I don't have anything to do. And I am enjoying this immensely. Why don't you explain to us why your one hand is miraculously healed, and the other suddenly hurt?" Lucas shifted from foot to foot anxiously. "The truth would do, Lucas."
He sighed. "It wasn't my idea, Elizabeth. Darcy was the one to come up with the plan. He wanted to take you out riding, but he knew that you would refuse him."
Elizabeth was staring at him in surprise. "He did that? Just to ride with me?"
"Sure," Lucas said with a disgruntled look, "you think it's the sweetest thing in the world when he deceives you, and you yell at me when I do it."
She grinned at him saucily. "That's because I'm not in love you."
Lucas laughed. "I guess that would count for something. And it's great to hear it. I knew it would come about eventually."
"Oh, did you?" Elizabeth said with a brow raised.
"From the very moment we met."
Elizabeth smiled. "I'm sure. Have you ever thought of joining the gypsies, my lord? Do some fortune telling perhaps? You'd be even more rich than you already are."
Lucas shrugged. "It's something to think about. But right now what we have to think about is not my future plans, but yours, Elizabeth. Now, what shall we do about tonight?"
Chapter 20
To sit with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute.
But to sit on a hot coal for a minute, it seems like an hour.
That is relativity.
~ Albert Einstein
Darcy was in his study when his sister came to find him. "Oughtn't we be going, Fitzwilliam?" she asked uncertainly.
"For what?" he snapped. When she didn't answer, he looked up at her, and seeing the pain in her eyes, he stood and wrapped her in an embrace. "I'm sorry," he said softly into her hair. "I'm so sorry Georgie. It's just...I have a lot on my mind right now."
"Are you not to come with us to the theatre? May I go by myself, with the Miss Bennets you mentioned?" she offered timidly.
"No, you must go with an escort, my dear."
"Then perhaps Mr. Bingley will take us, or Lord Harding."
Darcy sighed and set her away from him. He tipped her chin up with a forefinger and made her look at him. "I'll take you to the theatre, Georgiana. Just let me get fixed up a bit. I cannot go like this."
She giggled. "I don't think they'd even let you into the box, Fitzwilliam," she said as she took in his dishevelled appearance.
Darcy grimaced. "I suppose you're right. Tell Tomlin to ready the carriage, and I'll be down in no time." He kissed her on the forehead and shoved her out the door. He turned and glanced at the glass of brandy still on the table beside the chair, and with a short hesitation, went and swallowed the rest of it. He would need all the fortification he could get if he was going to make it through this night.
He took the stairs quickly-two or three at a time-and entered his dressing room, where his valet was already waiting. "I thought that you had changed your mind, Sir," said Dawkins meekly as he took out the jacket he was just re-hanging in the wardrobe.
"Don't worry yourself about it, Dawkins. Just help me look my best as quickly as you possibly can."
That the valet did, and Darcy was hurrying back down the stairs in no more than ten minutes. His sister was waiting at the door, and he ushered her quickly out the door and into the waiting carriage. They set off as soon as the door was closed.
The ride to Gracechurch Street was quiet. Darcy had nothing much to say, and his sister was rather frightened of the mood he was in. The closer they drew to their guests' house, the darker his humour became. By the time the carriage pulled up to the curb, he was scowling threateningly at some spot outside the window. When the footman opened the door, he stepped out and walked up to the door, which was opened again by the housekeeper. He was let into the foyer, and was greeted by Mr. Gardiner.
"Good evening to you, Mr. Darcy," with a smile to which it was difficult for Darcy not to respond. "It seems awhile since you were last here, sir, though it has been only a few days. I enjoyed your conversation about fishing very much."
Darcy found himself grinning unwittingly. "As I enjoyed yours, sir."
Mr. Gardiner nodded. "If it wouldn't be too much of a hassle-I understand that, you being a society gentleman and all-if you might be willing to have dinner here with Mrs. Gardiner and I later this week. My sister and nieces are leaving soon, and though they have only been here a week, it will be quite empty at the table, you understand. And my wife enjoyed your conversation, as well. It would please her greatly to have you as our guest."
"Of course," Darcy replied, finding that he actually would like to have dinner with this gentleman. He relayed these thoughts, and they decided on the coming Friday.
Just then, Mr. Gardiner's gaze transferred to the staircase behind Darcy, and a wide grin transformed his face. "Here they are, it seems," he murmured.
Darcy turned around, preparing himself for their doubtless exquisite beauty, but he still found himself gazing up the staircase in sheer admiration. Elizabeth came first, wearing a satin gown of a light rose colour, the bodice dotted with sparkling gems and silver embroidery. As she drew closer, he saw that the hem of her skirt was embroidered with tiny silver roses. Her hair was in an upswept coiffure, but several tiny curls fell from it and a few framed her face and fell at her neck, the soft dark brown contrasting strikingly with her ivory skin. As she came down the stairs toward him, he noticed how the gown accented her figure, hinting at the curves beneath the light material as she descended the stairs. He hadn't realised that he was holding his breath until she was standing before him. He let it out in a sigh of appreciation. "You look lovely, Miss Bennet," he replied somewhat huskily.
Her lips curved in an ionic grin. "And my sister Jane?"
Only then did Darcy notice that another person had come down the stairs. He took in her appearance and nodded in approval. "You look quite charming."
Elizabeth glanced at her sister in amusement, but didn't say a word. She accepted from the butler the stunning silver-coloured wrapper she had bought that day on the sudden shopping trip Lucas and the duke had insisted she go on with her sister, but Darcy was there to help her with it. She gave him a slight smile, then waited for her sister to put on her cloak with the assistance of her uncle, and they preceded Darcy out the door. He handed them both into the carriage, but could you blame the poor man when his hand lingered a bit longer in Elizabeth's?
He sat in the backwards-facing seat with his sister, directly across from Elizabeth. Every so often his knee brushed hers, and he could feel her pull back from the touch, saw her blush in the dim lamplight. He studied her features in the near-darkness, memorising every plane and curve that he had not memorised before. He imagined touching that face, touching the lips tinted coral-he could remember what they had felt like. But why was he torturing himself like this? He had no business thinking about her at all. She was off-limits to him. He could not betray his friend like that, no matter that Lucas had betrayed him first.
This was Hell, sitting in the same carriage as her, not able to talk to her, to tell her what he truly felt. This was Hades, the way that she glanced at him every so often, as if she were flirting-but that was only his addled, lovesick brain. This was surely Satan's kingdom, the Devil's house. But the only demon that lurked here was his own treacherous heart.
He was glad to escape from the carriage when they arrived at Drury Lane. If he had stayed in those close confines, smelling that particular scent that was always hers-he believed it to be lavender-he would go crazy. Or do something drastic, like kiss her...in front of his sister and hers. Oh, no, that wasn't about to happen.
He handed his sister down, then Miss Jane Bennet, and finally Elizabeth. He felt the light, warm pressure of his hand in his, and had a hard time not taking her into his arms right then. But he had a check on these emotions; he would not create another scene by losing control. He released her hand as soon as he was able and turned away to offer his arm. At that point, he realised that someone would be left out.
At that very moment, by some odd quirk of fate, Lucas showed up and saved everything. He greeted Darcy and the two women beside him, and then bowed low over Elizabeth's hand. "It's funny that we should see you here, Lucas," Darcy replied stiffly.
"Perhaps," Lucas said, "But I merely asked your butler where you would be tonight, Darcy, intending to give you a bit of my company. I had no idea that you would be escorting such lovely ladies."
Georgiana giggled at this, and Darcy shot her a quelling glance. He had no intention of sacrificing his little sister to this seeming god of women. On second thought, though, he smiled. "Yes, Lucas, actually, I am. Perhaps you would be so kind as to escort Georgiana to my box? You may even join us there for the performance." Darcy would have asked Lucas to escort Jane, also, but he decided that was simply pushing his luck.
Lucas simply raised a brow and offered his arm to Georgiana. Darcy smiled to himself as he offered his own to the two Bennet sisters. He walked through the doors and up the grand staircase proudly, bearing the most beautiful women in the room on his arms. They entered the box Darcy had purchased for the night to find Lucas and Georgiana waiting for them. They were deep in conversation when the door opened, and both looked up in guilty surprise, Lucas hiding it more carefully than Georgiana.
Darcy paid them no mind and ushered Jane and Elizabeth to their seats as the crowd began to hush each other and watch as the curtain was raised. Darcy took a seat close beside Elizabeth and sat back, ready for the entertainment to begin. He was incredibly aware of the woman at his side, even more so when she leaned over and asked him, her breath tickling his ear delightfully, "What is being performed?"
He smiled and turned his slightly to make eye contact with her. "I thought you might like it," he whispered. "It's Much Ado About Nothing."
Elizabeth flushed as she remembered the last time she had read part of the play, and sat back in her chair, folding her hands demurely in her lap. Darcy chuckled inwardly and after gazing at her a few more minutes, returned his eyes to the stage.
At intermission, Georgiana expressed a wish for lemonade, and after a staring battle with Darcy, Lucas offered to get the ladies refreshments. The door had barely closed when there was a soft knock, and Bingley entered. "Darcy! I hadn't known you were going to be here!" he cried.
Darcy began to smile at his friend, but then noticed the two women who were just entering. "Your sisters are in London?" he asked with polite interest.
"As you see," Elizabeth replied from his side, and Darcy his a grimace.
Bingley sat down immediately next to Jane, and they both began to talk quietly together, Jane blushing and Bingley smiling and stammering. Elizabeth smiled at the two and turned to the other scene that was unfolding. Miss Bingley had approached and, sending a malicious glare at Elizabeth, sat down in the chair on the other side of Darcy as her sister began a conversation with Georgiana.
Miss Bingley laid a hand possessively on Darcy's arm. Elizabeth didn't fail to notice that he flinched from her touch, and his expression was stony. "You hadn't told us that you would be so long in London. Why, we had thought you would return within days."
"I had a change of plans," Darcy said coolly.
This distance caused Miss Bingley to hesitate, but forged on ahead, undaunted. "But you are coming back to Hertfordshire with us when Charles returns, are you not? Or will you stay here for the remainder of the Little Season?"
"My plans are yet undecided."
Miss Bingley pouted somewhat at this, but decided to try a different subject. "I thought that I had seen Lord Harding with you."
"He went to get refreshments, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth offered. "He should be back any moment."
The door opened then, and Lucas appeared, bearing glasses of lemonade, which he dispersed to Georgiana, Jane, and Elizabeth. He turned to Miss Bingley. "Oh, how sad," he said in a patently false tone of voice. "I hadn't known that you were here, Miss Bingley."
Miss Bingley withdrew her hand from Darcy's arm and stood up. Elizabeth heard the slight sigh of relief from Darcy, and had a difficult time trying not to laugh. Miss Bingley approached Lucas and wrapped her arm through his, drawing him to a pair of seats close together behind Jane and her brother. Lucas resisted, saying, "I'm sorry, Miss Bingley, but you must be mistaken. That's my seat over there." He broke free and sat down in his former seat beside Georgiana, leaving Miss Bingley standing stupidly in the middle of the box. As Lucas turned to join the conversation between Georgiana and Mrs. Hurst, he caught Elizabeth's eye and gave her an amused wink. She couldn't keep her laughter in then. As soon as Elizabeth started, Darcy began to chuckle himself, and soon he was laughing heartily.
Miss Bingley looked shocked, then offended, then turned to her brother, asking him to return to their box with her. When she found no help there, she turned to her sister who reluctantly stood and excused herself. Miss Bingley turned with a huff-and ran smack into the door, which only made Elizabeth and Darcy laugh harder, causing Lucas and Georgiana to join in. Bingley looked slightly embarrassed, but couldn't help a slight chuckle as Jane giggled. Mrs. Hurst quickly opened the door and left the box, and Miss Bingley, giving a final huff of indignation and holding her nose up high, followed her, making the exit she had been planning.
When the laughter in the box finally died down-which took quite a while, because they only had to glance at each other, or the box across the way where Miss Bingley was just entering, to burst out in gales of laughter again-Darcy wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and said, "I don't think the actors could surpass that performance if they tried. What say you we return to my townhouse and continue the evening there?"
The only one that disagreed with this plan was Bingley, who worried about his sisters' escort home. Darcy laughed and pointed out the large bulk in one of the chairs in the other box, saying that Mr. Hurst would be enough escort as they would need. So Bingley agreed, and the gentlemen took Lucas' carriage, while the ladies took the Darcy carriage, and they all met again at the Darcy townhouse.
Chapter 21
I have never killed a man, but I have read many
obituaries with a lot of pleasure.
~ Clarence Darrow
Tomlin was exceedingly surprised to find a group of young people waiting on the doorstep when he opened the door. It had been assumed that the master and young mistress would be at the theatre, and would not be home until later. So why were they here?
It was a question destined not to be answered. For the true purpose of their visit was a mystery-in fact, each of them had their own. For both Bingley and Jane, it was the opportunity to be in each other's company for a while longer, able to talk and laugh together in a more relaxed setting. For though they were engaged, the rules were still adhered to, and they had very few chances alone together. This was as alone as they could possibly be. In their love, no one else mattered more, anyway. And the others let it be that way.
For Georgiana, it was a chance to get to know the young lady Lucas had been describing to her when they were on the way to the theatre box. He had explained everything that had happened between her brother and the lady-told her about the feelings each had for the other. And though she was not of the matchmaking bent, she still thought that to see her brother happy would be the best possible thing in the world-and if it meant that Elizabeth Bennet was to be his wife, then she would do everything in her power to make it so.
Lucas was of the same turn of mind, yet he knew that he played a deeper part in all of this. He was there to maintain the charade, to pretend for a little while longer. He knew that to collapse the foundation suddenly was to ruin the whole structure. He had to play his role until he was sure of the plot, until the end was secured. And that would take more time. This was an opportunity to further his cause, and he meant to make the most of it.
There was a sense of unreality about the whole scenario in Elizabeth's mind. Here she was, in the Darcy townhouse-in the townhouse which, if Lucas had his way, she would be the mistress of. The house itself seemed to welcome her; she felt at home here. She couldn't explain why, but she felt as though she belonged here, with these people, with these surroundings. It was a feeling of love, of respect, of safety, of security. This was where she was meant to be.
Darcy was not the only one in the group that was nervous, yet he felt as though he were. He looked around at the others, who seemed to be at ease, and felt exceedingly jealous. He looked at his sister and Lucas, who were in playful conversation with Elizabeth, and all he could think about was how he wished that it were he that she was speaking to, laughing with, smiling at. He wanted to be with her for the rest of his life, he realised with a start. He wanted her as his wife.
And it was an impossibility. She was engaged; she was betrothed to the same man with whom she was speaking now. How he could endure seeing the woman he loved married to another, how he could endure seeing her married to such a friend was unfeasible. Yet he would have to be there, unless he would risk losing his friendship. In fact, it was more than likely that he would be asked to stand up with Lucas. How could he stand there, across from Elizabeth, yet with Lucas standing between-always between them?
"...Tour of the house?"
Darcy looked up with a start, surprised to find himself the object of scrutiny. His sister was looking at him, and apparently waiting for him to say something. "Uh...I am sorry, Georgie, I was not attending."
Though she flushed at his use of her childhood nickname in front of others, she repeated her request. "Miss Bennet was asking if someone might show her the house, and I was wondering if you might wish to show her. You take so much pride in it, only second to Pemberley."
Darcy met Elizabeth's eyes, and found himself unable to look away, but his gaze slid away at last, coming to rest on Lucas, and he knew what he saw in her eyes could not have been what he hoped. But he acquiesced to his sister's request with as much grace as was possible. He stood and followed Elizabeth out the door. After taking a candle from the table in the hall, he offered his arm to her and they proceeded down the hallway. Neither said a word as they strolled slowly. Both were too aware of the other, too aware of the other's touch.
At last Darcy broke the silence when they reached the door to the library. He opened it and gestured for her to precede him. She did, and stood in the centre as she gazed around her in awe. "This is indeed an enormous collection, Mr. Darcy. Netherfield is impressive, though by no means this size. Nor this organised, I might add," she said as she began to scan the titles.
"Thank you," Darcy responded, the pride evident in his voice as he moved towards the desk and placed the candle upon it. "But this is nothing to Pemberley."
She paused as he said the name, and he recalled the last time he had told her of his estate. He stepped toward her, but hesitated, holding himself back, recalling who she was-who he was. And he remembered more than the kiss. His hands fell to his sides, and he watched her move about the room, waiting impatiently for her to finish. Suddenly he wished that he had declined his sister's request.
Suddenly, she turned to him. He felt his breath catch in his throat at her dark beauty in the shadowed candlelight, her hesitant eyes glowing. "Mr. Darcy, there is something I must tell you," she began as her eyes darted about the room-anywhere but him.
When it wasn't forthcoming, Darcy prompted her, "Yes? You wished to tell me what?"
Her eyes met his, and she sighed heavily. "It is about what you heard this morning."
Darcy's face grew hard, and he withdrew his gaze as he walked to the dark window. "You don't have to explain anything. I understand. Lucas had said that he admired you, I just didn't realise that his feelings went so deep as to ask your hand in marriage."
"No, it's not that-"
"Look, I understand!" Darcy said curtly. "You do not have to explain. It is your choice to marry whom you will. I do not particularly think that Lucas is the best choice in the world, but his title is quite an incentive, as is his wealth-"
"His money doesn't mean anything!" Elizabeth cried.
Darcy didn't say anything, merely shrugged in disbelieving acceptance. Elizabeth felt her temper rise. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"Is it for me to decide?" Darcy responded, his voice laced with contempt.
Her temper snapped. "You are the most pig-headed man I know!" she shouted in exasperation.
"I'm glad your opinion of me is so high," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"And boorish, and proud, and arrogant-"
"I will refrain from sharing my opinion of you," Darcy retorted acidly. He turned and looked darkly at her for a moment. "I think it would be better if I left," he said before turning to leave the room. But he stopped mid-stalk and stared blankly at the closed door, then turned to look at her in surprise. "Did you close that door?"
She shook her head enquiringly. His brow furrowed, and he strode forward and tried the handle. He cursed under his breath as he found it wouldn't turn. "They've locked us in here," he said to her curious gaze. "I am going to kill him," he muttered under his breath as he turned to stare at the door again.
"Impossible," she murmured as she came forward to try the knob herself.
"You don't trust me?" Darcy asked in disbelief, and she turned her head and caught his gaze. "Not if you don't trust me," she replied bluntly.
His eyes grew hard and flinty, and he turned around and stalked to the window, anger written in every step. "Why do you do that?" she asked.
"Do what?" he demanded tersely.
"Stare out the window like that. You do it all the time."
He turned to look at her in surprise, then looked back at the window. "I don't know," he said at last. "I don't really think about it."
She shook her head. "No, you do it when you are angry or annoyed. Or when you are full of emotion."
"I never think of it. It just seems so...safe here." He seemed surprised at his own choice of words. "Not safe, exactly..."
"No, I know what you are saying," Elizabeth said. "You don't have to explain."
Darcy didn't respond; he simply returned his gaze to the window and stared out into the darkness. "When do you think they will let us out?" he heard behind him. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. I suppose when they think that we've done what they want us to."
"And what is that?" she asked uneasily.
There was no response. And the clock on the mantle ticked slowly in the silence as the time stretched on.
Chapter 22
The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.
~ Oscar Wilde
Neither spoke for some time. When Elizabeth finally did, it was to ask: "Can't we scream for one of the servants? I am sure that they will hear us and let us out."
Darcy grimaced. "I gave them all off for the night. All except for Tomlin, that is."
"Then we can shout for him," Elizabeth said, though doubt riddled her tone.
Another grimace. "Not if he is where I think he is. He would never hear us from his quarters-they are on the other side of the house." He forestalled her next suggestion. "As is the drawing room. And the way that Charles and your sister are so involved with each other, I doubt they would hear us, anyway. And my sister is most likely involved with this plot, so there will be no help from that quarter."
Elizabeth sighed heavily and sank down into a chair near the empty fireplace. She felt a shiver pass through her frame from the chill that was slowly pervading the room. "I am sure that they would not leave us in here for long. And besides, they cannot keep me here overnight. I must return home or my aunt and uncle will worry for me, not to mention Jane."
"But there is still an hour, at least, until the play will end. They will keep us in here until then, perhaps longer, as they might account for the traffic."
"They wouldn't!" Elizabeth cried.
Darcy shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past Lucas."
Elizabeth didn't respond, and pulled her feet up beneath her, trying to stay warm. She huddled into the soft, plush velvet. She heard a soft curse from the other side of the room and looked up at Darcy, who was taking off his jacket and approaching her. "No, really. You do not need-" she began, but was interrupted.
"Of course I need to," he replied. "It was daft of me not to think of it sooner. With no fire, it will get even colder. And you are not wearing enough to stay warm." He placed the jacket gently around her shoulders, but his hands remained there for a moment more, until one reached up and caressed her cheek softly. She looked up at him in mute question. And as her face tipped up, his tilted downwards, and their lips met.
It was tender at first, but deepened as her hand reached up to the back of his neck and threaded through the soft, dark hair at his nape. She moaned softly and leaned further towards him. But as his thumb began to stroke her cheek, he broke the kiss and stepped back. Spearing his fingers through his hair, he began to pace towards the window. Elizabeth sat back in the chair, stunned, her fingers reaching up to touch her lips in surprise.
He finally stopped and turned to look at her. "Elizabeth-Miss Bennet, I am so sorry. That should never have happened. I ought to have controlled myself. I just-I don't know what came over me. I never should have taken advantage of you like that. I-I am so sorry."
Her face darkened as his words sank in. "You are sorry?" she said angrily. "You are sorry?" She shook her head in astonishment. "You are even more of an idiot than I thought, Mr. Darcy."
He stared at her for a moment, before his brow came together sharply, and fury lined his face. "An idiot? Is that what you think me? Why, tell me, Miss Bennet: why am I so unworthy of your good opinion? I did something wholly unseemly and completely ungentlemanly, and I apologised. What more do you expect of me?"
"I don't want an apology," she spat at him. "There was nothing to apologise for."
"I kissed you!" he replied, incredulous.
"Do you think me stupid, as well? Of course you kissed me! And I participated, didn't I?"
"Yes, but I started it!"
Elizabeth smiled humourlessly. "And I would have thanked you for it," she said wryly, "if you had not apologised immediately afterwards."
"It still isn't right," he said softly, though passionately. "You're engaged. To my best friend, of all people."
She stared at him for a few moments, then shook her head slowly. "You just don't get it, do you?" she asked, her tone tinged with disappointment. "I am not engaged to anyone."
Darcy looked at her in surprise. "But-but I heard..."
"I know what you heard," Elizabeth said, "but what you heard was a lie, a trick. I never was and never shall be betrothed to Lord Harding. It was a simple mistake."
Darcy gazed at her in mute skepticism, then suddenly a look of dawning understanding passed over his face, and he began to laugh. "Perhaps I am an idiot, after all. I ought to have known something was amiss when the news came from Grandpops. He and Lucas have always tried to pull the wool over someone's eyes. I just hadn't realised that he would do something so intentionally cruel to me."
A question rose to the tip of Elizabeth's tongue, but she swallowed it back, unwilling to ask something so forward. But in the next moment, her question would have been trivial, in any case. For he answered it himself as he pulled a chair beside hers and sat down in it, holding her gaze with his dark, pleading eyes. "Do you wish to know why it was so cruel to me? Why it was so painful for me to hear that you were betrothed to another?"
Elizabeth reached out her hands towards him, and he grasped them warmly in his own, placing a butterfly kiss on the knuckles. "I couldn't lose you, Elizabeth. I hadn't realised how much you began to mean to me until there was a threat of losing you. I hadn't believed that Lucas...I hadn't thought he would be interested in you, and when I heard you were engaged, my heart broke, because I realised that everything I had been dreaming of for weeks, for months, could never happen. I thought that I had lost you, until I realised that I never had you to begin with.
"I still do not know if I have you-if I have your heart. But I know that if you truly did not want me, if you had no love for me, you would tell me. Tell me now, Elizabeth. Tell me: will you marry me?"
Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears, but she held his gaze. "Do you love me?"
A smile spread slowly over his face. "I would say 'with all my heart,' but unfortunately, it is not mine to give anymore. You have had it for the longest time, Elizabeth. My heart is yours."
A tear slipped down Elizabeth's cheek as she smiled happily. "Then indeed, Mr. Darcy, I will marry you. I love you so much-so very much."
Darcy's grasp on her hand tightened as he smiled widely, drawing her closer to him. When his lips were only inches from hers, he paused and whispered, "I love you, too."
Just as their lips touched, the door flew open, crashing into the wall with a resounding BANG! Darcy spun around and glared at the intruder, who stood in the doorway, grinning. "So I see you two have kissed and made up, eh? Or did I interrupt the first part?"
He strolled into the room, Georgiana close behind him. He smiled at Elizabeth and Darcy, who had sat back in their chairs, trying to pretend they hadn't been about to kiss...but it was slightly obvious. Elizabeth's eyes were glowing brightly, and her cheeks were flushed. Darcy was glowering at Lucas, completely unaware of the slightly dishevelled appearance he made with his tousled hair and without his jacket. "What do you want, Lucas? Haven't you done enough tonight?"
"I don't know," Lucas said slyly, raising a curious brow at Elizabeth, whose cheeks flushed hotly. "Have I?"
Darcy smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, I don't know, Lucas. What would you consider enough? Perhaps an engagement?"
"You're going to be married?" Georgiana exclaimed excitedly.
"Yes, Georgiana," Darcy said with a grin at Elizabeth. "Elizabeth has accepted me. But the engagement is not official until I have asked her father. Which I will do," he said as he took her hand in his own, "at the next possible opportunity."
Georgiana came forward and kissed both her brother and her future sister-in-law, then ran out to find Bingley and Jane to give them the good news. Lucas watched her leave, then turned to the two and grinned broadly. "Well, well, well. What have we here? Do I hear the sounds of wedding bells?" He laughed. "And to think, I brought this all about myself."
"You?" Darcy scoffed. "I think not, my good man."
"Oh, really? And would you like to say that you were the one who put you two together? I beg to differ, Darce. I recall one night at Netherfield, and I quote, 'She's handsome, and self-assured, and independent, and intelligent. She doesn't need-"
"Yes, yes. Enough, enough! I get the idea, Lucas, and I thank you. You were a great help to us. But if you don't mind?"
Lucas raised a brow, but gestured with his hands for them to proceed as he sat down in a chair opposite. Darcy shot him a look of chagrin, but determined to ignore him, turned and, taking Elizabeth's chin in his hand, tilted his head towards hers and claimed her lips in a long, satisfying kiss. And Lucas only laughed.
Chapter 23
Nature has no mercy at all. Nature says, "I'm going to snow.
If you have on a bikini and no snowshoes, that's tough.
I am going to snow anyway."
~ Maya Angelou
Darcy reined his horse and waited. When Lucas finally caught up, his friend was staring over the fields, and in the distance there stood a large house. "There is Netherfield, Lucas," Darcy said quietly.
"We've only a few miles to go, and a barrage of questions, and you are home free, my good man," Lucas replied with a smile. "And I doubt there shall be any objection, for you are quite the gent, if I may say so myself. He would be honoured to have you as his son-in-law."
"I suppose so, but I am still worried."
"Worried about what?" Lucas said with incredulity. "How could you be worried? You have everything to offer Elizabeth, and you love her, as she loves you. And if he objects, well, you could always run off to Gretna Green."
Darcy shot him an annoyed glance. "You aren't helping any, Lucas. And I am sure that everything will be fine. It's just...I don't know."
Lucas smiled, but didn't respond. Instead, he kicked his heels and set off down the road towards Longbourn, Darcy travelling in his wake. They rode in silence for a while in this fashion until Darcy pulled up alongside of Lucas. "With how many people, Lucas, were you in conspiracy? How many people did you bring into your plans? This is simply out of curiosity, you understand."
Lucas thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm not sure, in all. Should I count the ones that I used without their knowledge?"
"Never mind, Lucas," Darcy replied with a snort. "That's all the answer I needed, thanks. It's great to know that your friends are so devoted to you that they would do so much to get you leg-shackled."
"What, already regretting it?" Lucas took out his watch and looked at it, whistling. "I think it's a new record Darce. Why, it isn't even official yet."
Darcy shot him a glare. "I didn't say I was regretting it. I didn't even imply that I was regretting it. Because if I did, I would be lying. I can't wait 'til we are wed. And we shall be wed as soon as I get permission, mark my words."
"Why, Darcy!" Lucas said in a high-pitched voice. "We are to be wed? Oh, oh, OH!" he clapped his hands together. "Yes, yes! The jewels! The pin money! Ooooh, and you are such a fine-looking specimen, too!" He tried to squeal in happiness, but his laughter made it somewhat unconvincing.
Darcy just glared at him. "You know, if I weren't on a horse, and if I weren't headed to ask my future father-in-law's permission to marry his daughter, I would punch you right now. After all, I hardly think I might make a good impression with blood on my cravat and boots."
The speech only made Lucas laugh harder, until he was practically falling off his horse. "Darcy," Lucas gasped, trying to control his hilarity, "I regret...to inform you...that it would be...your blood. Gentleman Jack...is a great friend...of mine." And with that effort, he burst into gales of laughter again.
Darcy wisely said nothing and turned his horse onto the drive towards Longbourn. It took quite a good deal of time, but Lucas finally realised his friend was gone and had to double back and catch up. Darcy was already dismounting when Lucas finally arrived, still wiping tears from his eyes, squirreled his horse and followed Darcy into the foyer, where the housekeeper greeted them and left to inform Mr. Bennet of his visitors. She returned in due time and took them to Mr. Bennet's library, where they were shown in and asked to have a seat.
Lucas declined, instead leaning against the wall near the door, where he was able to see the whole room and its occupants. He watched, a mysterious smile on his face, his eyes half-lidded, as Darcy nervously sat in a seat, then stood, running a hand through his already-tousled hair. He shot Lucas a glance of pure panic, but Lucas' smile only grew, and he shook his head in silent refusal. Darcy sighed and turned back to Mr. Bennet, who was still sitting behind his desk calmly, waiting patiently for the young man before him to speak. At last he took pity and asked, "Is there something of which you wished to speak with me, Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes," Darcy said quickly, desperately, then cleared his throat, and sitting on the edge of his chair, looked up at the gentleman before him. "I am not sure whether you were aware, Mr. Bennet, but since I have met your daughter, I have been forming a strong attachment to her, and she to me, of which I have been recently made aware. She has accepted my proposal, sir, but it remains for you to give your blessing or your refusal, and though the latter would be heartbreak to me, and undoubtedly her, we would accept your decision.
"I am very well able to take care of your daughter, Mr. Bennet. I receive an annual income of ten thousand pounds, and I own the estate of Pemberley, in Derbyshire. I understand that this is a great distance from her previous home, here, but I do not doubt that she will make the adjustment." He cleared his throat nervously, unsure what else to say, and looked at Mr. Bennet for a response, but the other gentleman was reclining in his chair, looking at Darcy with rapt attention, and after a few moments, gestured for Darcy to proceed.
"I-I-I'm not sure exactly what to say, sir, other than that I love your daughter greatly, and she me. If you grant us with your blessing, rest assured that I will take all care of her that is possible. I will honour my vows, and will treat her with such concern due to my wife. I only ask for your blessing in this endeavour, Mr. Bennet: I wish to marry Elizabeth."
Mr. Bennet smiled and glanced at Lucas, who was still leaning against the wall, the same half-smile on his face. He turned back to Mr. Darcy, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I am not sure, Mr. Darcy. I am not questioning your judgement or your credibility in respect to my daughter's feelings for you, but I must question whether she will be happy with you. She took a great dislike to you when you first arrived, you know, and I have no assurances that her heart has changed, other than your own, which of course, I must give due consideration."
Darcy shook his head slowly. "It is true, Mr. Bennet, that she may have disliked me when I arrived. I realise that my conduct was perhaps a bit worse than I would have wished, but I am not necessarily so all of the time, which your daughter has discovered. I have made mistakes in my courtship of your daughter, it is true, and we have encountered more than a few obstacles during that time, but I believe that I have changed her opinion of me for the better, if it was truly so bad to begin with. I love your daughter, Mr. Bennet, and would never wish for her to be unhappy in her choice of a husband. I truly believe, though, that she will be happy with me. I will never intentionally give her cause to regret her choice."
"Well said, well said," Mr. Bennet murmured, than cleared his throat and leaned over the desk slightly. "I am deeply sorry, Mr. Darcy, that I can offer you no more than a meagre settlement for her dowry. But I suppose you will have already realised that, and are prepared to overlook that fact, am I correct?" Darcy nodded, and Mr. Bennet smiled. "Then I see no reason to withhold my blessing. I am extremely fortunate, I believe, to have you for a future son-in-law, Mr. Darcy, and I will enjoy welcoming you into the family. You will probably have more sense than all of my son-in-laws combined, and I am greatly looking forward to conversations with you in the future."
Darcy smiled. "I, too, Sir."
"Let's have a drink. What do you say?" Mr. Bennet asked, taking a decanter from the corner of his desk. Lucas approached now and took a seat beside Darcy. He smiled at both of them, then took the proffered glass. "Well, this is delightful. I am glad that things have finally worked out." He raised his glass in a toast. "To Darcy!"
"Here, here!" Mr. Bennet cried with a smile, raising his glass as well. "You know," he said, after taking a sip, "I knew it would happen eventually. And I told you so, if you remember," he pointed out to Lucas.
Lucas tapped his chin with a forefinger. "I'm not sure I remember that. I seem to recall myself saying those words, but..."
"Oh, no. I am absolutely certain," laughed Mr. Bennet. "But let's just say that we both knew it would happen eventually."
"I'll agree to that," Lucas replied with a smile, raising his glass in salute to the other gentleman.
"Now, stop just a moment," Darcy, who had been silent until now, interposed. "Are you telling me that you two have been in league?"
"I don't know," Lucas said thoughtfully. "I think 'collusion' has a nicer ring to it."
Darcy shook his head, a sigh escaping his smiling lips. "You are absolutely despicable, Lucas. Who have you not brought into your little game? Bingley?"
Lucas thought for a moment. "I don't think he was ever a player. Perhaps a pawn, though. After all, a drinking party is not a drinking party without Bings."
"Please, don't even remind me of that," Darcy said with a groan. "I had the headache of a lifetime the next morning. And all so that I would tell you that I loved Elizabeth. Much as I appreciate the effort on my behalf, I believe you might have done it in a different way."
"Hmm...no, not really," Lucas replied with an evil grin. "Anyway, it was more fun that way. And besides, if you think that was bad, just wait until your bachelor party!"
Darcy sat up in the bed that sat in the middle of the room he had taken at the inn at Meryton the night before after dinner at Longbourn. He stretched lazily and rubbed his eyes, then thrust a hand through his dark, sleep-tousled hair. He breathed in slowly, then exhaled on a sigh, smiling to himself. He was to be married. He was to be married to Elizabeth. If that was not the most wonderful thing in the world, he didn't know what was.
He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching his arms and legs, shaking the sleep out of them. He picked up his robe and wrapped it around himself, then strolled to the window and looked out. He immediately dropped the curtain and stepped back. Impossible. There was not a single, possible, imaginable way this could have happened. He was to return to London tonight. He was to go to the opera with Elizabeth. This could not be happening. It had to be a figment of his sleep-fuzzed imagination. He looked through the curtain again, then thrust it back and sat down on the edge of the bed, groaning as he put his head in his hands.
"You in here, Darce?" Lucas asked as he strolled into the room, not bothering to knock, not even interested in a response to his pointless query. He stopped in front of Darcy and shook his head, gazing dolefully down at the bowed head. "Still in your dressing gown? At this time of the morn? How sad. I had thought you would be up early today, ready to go at sunrise. And here you are, not even dressed."
"There wasn't a sunrise this morning, Lucas," Darcy said, gesturing towards the window. "Look outside."
"Yes, I know. It's snowing."
"Heavily," Darcy felt the need to point out. "How are we to get to London in that?"
Lucas smiled. "Easily. You see, there is this animal called a horse. And people, over the centuries, have found the most ingenious way to plant themselves on the back and do what is termed 'ride.' This feat is accomplished-" He stopped when he finally caught the withering glare Darcy was sending him. "Buck up, old chum. This is nothing. I've ridden in worse. And that wasn't even for love, though something akin," he grinned lecherously in remembrance.
"This is hardly the time..."Darcy said in exasperation.
"Yes, well," Lucas said, recalling himself. "I am sure we can still ride out. The roads cannot be too impassable. After all, they were perfect only last night."
"Much has changed since then," mentioned Darcy, indicating the window unhappily.
"Let us ask our host before jumping to any conclusions, shall we?" Lucas pointed out reasonably. And so he left the room in search of the innkeeper. He returned not fifteen minutes later, though, his optimism gone. He reported that the roads were, indeed, impassable, and even worse farther on. They were, it appeared, trapped in Meryton.