These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Nicole Clarkston

  “William, did you know what he told me just before he left for Portugal?”

  A questioning glance was his only answer.

  “He begged me—nearly forced me, if I am truthful—to come to Pemberley to be a friend for Georgiana. Never once did he suggest that she hide at Longbourn, nor did he close the gates of the estate to her other family and friends. He merely wanted her to have someone else loyal by her side while he went to search for you.”

  His expression twisted in confusion. “He told you even then that he suspected I was alive?”

  “William, he pulled the body out of the grave to examine it, so great was his doubt.”

  He pinched his lips. “Someone utterly disconnected with the business would not have suspected. Perhaps he merely had a guilty conscience.”

  “William!” she chided, laughing. “What am I to do with you? There must be some means by which the colonel may convince you of his fidelity.”

  “Why are you so determined to prove him innocent?” he asked suspiciously.

  She sighed, squeezing his hand. “Because he is a good man, William, and he shared with me something of his grief at losing you. I passed him a moment ago—he is delaying his departure by every moment he can, and his face is that of a boy who just lost his best horse. I beg you, will you not speak to him?”

  He straightened, blinking rapidly and looking straight ahead.

  “You are fond of him, William,” she reminded him in a soft voice. “I know you do not truly wish to banish him from your life.”

  “Do you think it was easy for me to order him away? I have Georgiana to protect, and now you as well! Lord willing, Elizabeth, we will have children someday, and any heir to the Darcy estate would seem vulnerable unless I root out this conspiracy!”

  A knowing smile played at her lips. “Children, Mr Darcy? I was under the impression that a gentleman must first propose before building a family.”

  He started. “But I have proposed!”

  “I would prefer not to remember Rosings,” she chuckled.

  “What do you call early this morning, if not an understanding?”

  She tilted her head away, still smiling, and surveyed her fingertips. “My sister asked me the same question. I did not know what to say to her, for without the surety of words exchanged, a woman may not feel secure in an engagement.”

  For the first time that day, a genuine smile threatened his expression. “Allow me to set your mind at ease, then.” He fell to his knees before her chair, retaining her hand, and placed it over his chest. “My dearest Elizabeth, I have held you these many months in my heart. You were my companion, my courage, my rest. Will you hold me now in truth, build a future here with me, and spend the rest of your years with me?”

  Her eyes were moist and her throat was working tightly. It was a moment before she could speak properly, but she traced his eyes and cheeks with the fingers of her other hand, then leaned forward to press a tender kiss to his lips. “Yes, William,” she whispered.

  His form relaxed. “I cannot carry on without you, Elizabeth. Do you think, perhaps, that your father would approve an engagement if I wrote to him? I dread parting from you for so long.”

  “I think, under the circumstances, that you have no business traveling to Hertfordshire to secure my father’s blessing. Other concerns are more pressing, are they not?”

  His eyebrows rose in agreement. “Then it is settled. You shall remain here while we await word from your father, and then we will marry as soon as may be.”

  “I cannot remain in your house without a proper chaperon,” she replied lowly.

  “A chaperon?”

  “My father entrusted me to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s care. It seems fitting that he might remain as such.”

  His face darkened. “Was this an elaborate attempt to manipulate me into agreeing to your plan?”

  “Manipulate, no!”

  “Then what do you call it?”

  “A reasonable solution, William. You must see that.”

  “I see that you are exerting all your charms to keep my cousin here. What is your interest in this, Elizabeth?”

  She withdrew her hands. “I ask you to do what is right, William. You are searching in the wrong place if you begin with the colonel. Why do you not investigate Mrs Annesley, who seemed to leave Georgiana vulnerable at all the worst times, or the account books, which do not balance properly? Why the colonel?”

  “This is the first I have heard of Mrs Annesley,” he confessed.

  “It would not have been, if you had not been so determined to pursue the wrong avenues.”

  “Elizabeth,” he sighed and rose, standing uncomfortably before her. “You must trust me to know what I am about. I know what I heard in Portugal, and I know my estate and family. I think it likely that Richard is, indeed, innocent in intent, but he was well known to those who held me. I cannot risk it.”

  “Have you at least spoken to him about it?”

  “I have heard enough lies—”

  She jerked to her feet, her eyes glittering with angry tears. “He loves you, William! Would he do the same to you, if he had been the captive and you were the one who searched for him? I have seen him about the estate. He is lost, and has no interest in being the master of it! Why, he refused even to set foot into your study, and was terrified of looking over the household books, but William, he may know something of those men who took you that he himself does not realise until you speak to him. If you send him away, you lose your strongest ally!”

  He stepped back, staring at the floor and twitching his fingers in thought. “Perhaps I might speak again with him, as you are so determined to see me do it.”

  She stepped near him again and took his hands. “Thank you, William. You will not regret it.”

  “You are so convinced of his innocence?”

  “I am.” She paused a moment, then her expression brightened. “If you require greater surety, perhaps you might confer with another you trust—another who holds the colonel highly in his regard, and has offered his assistance in your absence.”

  He lifted a brow. “To whom do you refer?”

  “My uncle Gardiner, of course! The colonel referred some of the estate’s commercial business to my uncle while he was to be away—”

  Darcy snatched his hands back from hers and whirled to pace angrily away. “Your uncle, is it! Are you aware, Elizabeth, that he has somehow come into a lucrative contract on the Continent? Do you not find that a remarkable coincidence?”

  She tilted he head. “Why, yes, I knew of something. My aunt counted it a very great blessing for the future of their business, but I have not been privy to the details. I believe a party approached my uncle last autumn, after another warehouse failed.”

  “Last autumn! Elizabeth, listen to yourself! Does not the timing seem suspicious to you?”

  Her features hardened. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are the most impossible man! My uncle’s business affairs have absolutely nothing to do with anything! Why, I do not believe he is even trading in Portugal. You are so determined to find traitors among your friends that you will not see the true dangers when they arise!”

  “Enough of this! We shall not discuss it again!” He was shaking by this time. How was it that the most intelligent woman of his acquaintance could be so contrary and blind? It was for him to keep everyone safe, but he had neither shield nor armour of his own, save for her. Why could she not see? He placed a trembling hand over his face, then slowly turned back to her.

  She was seething with fury, her small hands clenched and her cheeks flushed as brilliantly as they had been that horrible day at Rosings. “Forgive me, Elizabeth,” he faltered, feeling weak with regret. “I did not mean to raise my voice to you.”

  “William,” she spoke through clenched teeth, “if you are determined to accuse my uncle and your cousin, if you persist in doubting my word, and if you lash out in anger whenever someone tries to spea
k reason to you, you are going to lose everyone.”

  “Elizabeth! I—”

  “I will not tolerate it, William!” she interrupted hotly. “I will not be intimidated into silence. If you cannot bear to hear me speak, then I ought not to be here.” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, brushing past the footman who leapt smartly out of her path.

  The room was spinning. He reached numbly for a seat, but his hand missed, and he was too dazed to attempt it again. His knees faltered and he tumbled to the floor before the fire and gazed blindly into it. Elizabeth! He stared, his mouth slack, and the heat from the fire turning the moisture from his eyes into rough crystals that trailed down his face.

  47

  Elizabeth had swept furiously from the study, blinded by tears and caring not who could have seen her. A few moments later found her on Lydia’s bed, shaking the frame and wetting the counterpane with her frustration. Lydia, for her part, seemed to take great pride in comforting her sister for a change, rather than the reverse, and played her role with greater seriousness than Elizabeth might have thought her to possess.

  After exhausting herself for nearly an hour, and spoiling at least three of Lydia’s best handkerchiefs, she rolled wearily to a seated posture. Lydia shifted to sit beside her and pillowed her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Right, then, so we are to go to Cheapside?” she asked with little enthusiasm.

  Elizabeth stretched her neck and gave a half-laughing, half-sobbing little groan. “I do not know. I cannot leave him, Lydia. He has suffered so much, and it terrifies me to think of it. If I were to go now, I cannot imagine how it would wound him.”

  “What, do you think you will be content merely to play the piano for him and straighten his cravats when he takes a mood? You will be miserable, Lizzy, for you could not hold your tongue if you bolted a handle on it. Pemberley is rather nice, but I could do without its master.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “You do not understand, Lydia. He is a good man; he is simply not acting himself.”

  “By ‘not himself’, do you mean the Mr Darcy who said you were ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt’ him? Or the Mr Darcy who sits in drawing rooms staring at the floor and out the window? He seems the same to me.”

  “He is not comfortable in company, Lydia,” Elizabeth sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “I thought you knew that.”

  “I know how abominably rude he was at the Netherfield ball. Why, he looked right at me and never made me an offer to dance. For my part, the man is too proud to be worth my notice. I say you would be well rid of him, Lizzy. Come, let us go back to Uncle’s house on the morrow. Colonel Fitzwilliam told me earlier that if you failed to talk sense into Mr Darcy, we would only go as far as Lambton this evening and make an early start in the morning. We can be in Cheapside for spring. What say you, Lizzy? Best to go now before you are irrevocably committed.”

  “Am I not already?”

  “Not a bit of it! Oh, naturally we must continue to write to Georgiana—I think she will not burn your letters if you go away and her brother has none other to comfort him. It will be just like the old days for her, so that cannot displease her. And then there is the bother of Mama finding out that Mr Darcy never died, and working herself up that you let an eligible bachelor slip away. I suppose that bit about you being out all night with him and Colonel Fitzwilliam might be kept quiet. Maria wrote me just the other day that her brother John was courting Sarah Purvis, but you know, I think he is only doing so because her hair is the same colour as yours. I think it might not be too late to win him back. Yes, now that I think of it, Lizzy, you would be much better off to go.”

  “And leave him! Lydia, he trusts none of the people in whom he should trust. He is not a fool, but he is not thinking clearly just now. What if he cannot see a deceiver before it is too late?”

  Lydia gave a dismissive little wave. “What does that matter to you? He is his own problem, I daresay.”

  “I love him, Lydia!” Elizabeth’s body shivered in a final sob, the remnant of her previous anguish, and her eyes stung with moisture again. “I do, Lydia, I love him. I cannot leave, now that he is here and alive.”

  Lydia propped her arms behind herself on the bed and a smug smile shone on her face.

  Elizabeth tilted her head and pinned her sister with a hard look. “I see you are quite satisfied with yourself.”

  “More than you can imagine. I finally tricked you into confessing it! It has only been…” she ticked off her fingers, “six months. No, almost seven.”

  Elizabeth sighed and rubbed her eyes again. “Have I truly been that obvious?”

  “It was when you started talking in your sleep that you finally gave it away.”

  Elizabeth stiffened, her cheeks burning. “Talking in my sleep! I could not have! Why, if you heard it, the whole of the household must—”

  Lydia broke in with a fit of giggles, pointing merrily at her sister. “What a good joke! You should see your face, Lizzy. The last time I saw you so red was… well, only an hour ago, when you were fuming at Mr Darcy.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes and pushed herself up from the bed. “Touché, my little sister. I shall try to make amends with Mr Darcy. I cannot promise that I will be successful, but I will try.”

  “Do hurry, for I would much rather have one of Cook’s dinners than the inn at Lambton, if I can get it.” Lydia patted her stomach. “It is too bad that Mr Darcy likes plain dishes, I was so hoping for a ragout, but I suppose it is his house, after all.”

  Elizabeth shook her head and almost made it to the door when she rushed back to hug her sister. “Thank you, Lydia,” she whispered.

  ~

  “And so, Mr Darcy, the magistrate advises that the man you brought back with you be set free, for he does not appear to have any connection to the matter at hand.” Mr Jefferson completed his speech and gave his master the last page in his hand, a note from Mr Duncan at Rush Hill Abbey.

  “No connection?” Darcy spun round to snatch the paper, reading it quickly and then crumpling it to feed the flames. “No connection! He was riding one of my own horses, and he claimed to have been put to the deed by the dead man! I even have a description from Miss Bennet of his appearance. There can be no doubt! Is Duncan blind, or unable to read?”

  “No, sir, but a man may say any number of things under threat of punishment. Mr Duncan believes the man was simply in the wrong place, and fled out of fear for his life. We may bring charges of horse theft if you wish, but that is likely all. He suggests that we reconsider the footman, O’Donnell, for he appeared to have awareness of the ladies’ whereabouts that day, and was in the immediate area when they were attacked. The location is remote, sir. I can think of no other reason for his presence there.”

  “If my own footman cannot look to my sister’s welfare without raising suspicion, but this other rogue can simply be ‘in the wrong place,’ I must wonder at Duncan’s logic.”

  “He claimed to have family in Weston, sir, and by foot, it is not unreasonable that he might have taken that route.”

  “Weston! He is a London rat, bred and born. Listen to his speech, look at his clothing!”

  “Sir, with all due respect, the footman is Irish. Would we not do well to consider that he may have interests of his own?”

  Darcy stopped before the window, fisting his hands at his hips. “Has Colonel Fitzwilliam departed?” he demanded abruptly.

  Jefferson blinked. “Why, er, no, sir, I do not believe so. A carriage was ordered for him, and stood by for two hours before the horses were taken back to the stables. I believe the carriage still stands in the yard, waiting for him.”

  Darcy flexed the fingers in his hand, pulsing his fist and frowning deeply. “That will be all, Jefferson. I will consider Duncan’s recommendations pertaining to Mr O’Donnell.”

  Jefferson bowed shortly and left the room, but Darcy did not pay him the courtesy of watching the performance. He gazed st
ill out the window, his vision fogged and his breath short. How was he to carry on? Elizabeth had closeted herself above stairs, and already a large, feminine trunk had been carried down. He had been too frightened to inquire as to which lady the trunk belonged. If she left with her sister….

  His throat closed and he buried his eyes behind his hand. Elizabeth! He had made an ass of himself again, failing to listen and terrified of permitting a slip in what he perceived as his control over his life. What sensible woman would tolerate a man who insulted her at every turn? Was this, then, his notion of love? She did not deserve this!

  He had begun to tremble again when a strong hand rested on his shoulder. Without thinking, he whirled and lashed out with his fist, only to slice empty air.

  His cousin was ducking his head and shoulders, a hand raised defensively over his face. He rose slowly to his full height, a low whistle on his lips. “Too slow this time, old boy.”

  Darcy snarled and turned back to the window. “What are you still doing here, Richard?”

  “Waiting for an apology, but I doubt seriously that my leave from my regiment will extend so long. I ought to have listened to our aunt when she demanded that I sell my commission.”

  “I have nothing to apologise for. I ought to cut you down where you stand.”

  “For what? For coddling my cousin as if she were my own sister or daughter? For racing off to Portugal, or dragging that stinking corpse out of the grave to see if he was you?”

  Darcy was silent, his shoulders heaving for a moment, and then he asked softly, “How did you know?”

  Richard snorted. “The birth mark, of course. The one you think no one knows about, but I used to swim with you in the lake.”

  “About Portugal,” Darcy broke in. “How did you know to look there, unless you had some involvement?”

  “Oh.” Richard blew out a huff and ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced about, and without waiting for an invitation, dropped into a chair.