He was obviously a man who was used to getting whatever he desired, and apparently he desired her. That fact was more pleasing to her than she cared to admit. However, on that she would not dwell. He had made it quite clear what he thought of her and what he wanted from her. Why that had upset her so, she could not say. After all, what did she care for his good opinion?
Their positions were clear. His visit had revealed far more than she wanted to know; he belonged to another. The only place for her in his life was mistress. Had he been free, she was convinced he still would never have considered her his equal. Perhaps once, long ago, when her father was still alive and she was a gentleman’s daughter, he might have found her worthy.
With renewed determination after having witnessed the gentleman’s true character, she vowed to think of him no more.
It was Christmas Eve, and she was quite alone. Even Hannah had departed at Elizabeth’s insistence that she spend Christmas with her family. Elizabeth assured her she would be fine by herself for a day or two. Hannah had reluctantly left, stating that she would return the next day as soon as Christmas dinner was over.
Elizabeth sat by the fire and read Jane’s letter again. She wondered at the absence of any mention of Mr. Bingley. Her last two letters had been filled with details of their time spent together, but not once was his name to be found in this one. Jane told of her plans for the holiday. All their family would be spending the day at their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner’s townhouse. The Gardiners had just recently returned from America and were anxious to share their experiences with everyone.
When Elizabeth had realized that they would never be able to get in touch with their uncle in time to save Lydia’s reputation, they did not make further attempts to contact him. Since Wickham had agreed to marry Lydia, the truth was never made known to her family. As far as all her family knew, George Wickham had been a loving and willing bridegroom. Only she and Jane knew the truth.
Her family was under the impression that she was spending Christmas with Mrs. Worthington and her family. So there she was, all alone on Christmas Eve. She and Hannah had put up some decorations earlier in the day, and the little cottage looked quite festive adorned with holly berry boughs and pine cones. As she was about to see what Hannah had left her for dinner, she heard someone knock.
With some hesitation she approached the door. Opening it just enough to see who stood behind it, she was surprised by the sight of an unknown young man carrying a rather large package. He looked to be harmless, as it was all he could do to hold the heavy burden in his arms. She opened the door to him.
“Scuse me, Miss,” said the young man. “I ‘ave a delivery fer this address. Are yew bein’ the mistress of the ‘ouse?”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth cautiously.
“Then this ‘ere package is fer yew,” said the young man with a grin.
Elizabeth moved aside, allowing him in to set the package on the floor of the small sitting room. When Elizabeth went to her reticule to give the young man a coin for his trouble, he put up his hand. “No, Miss. I was told not to take nothin’ from ya. Already been paid fer me services.”
“Who paid you, young man?” asked Elizabeth.
“The gentleman di’nt give ‘is name, Miss,” said the boy as he tipped his cap to Elizabeth and left.
She opened the package directly upon the boy’s departure, her curiosity piqued. She was indeed surprised as she pulled out one of the many books the package contained, a volume of poetry by Byron. Was it just a coincidence that a braid of gold and blue threads marked the page that contained the following poem?
When We Two Parted
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this!
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow;
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken
And share thy shame.
In secret we met
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget
Thy spirit deceive
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How will I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
~*~
Darcy arose later than his customary time the next morning. For a moment he forgot where he was, so unaccustomed was he to awakening in Anne’s bed chamber. She was not in bed, but he could hear her attending her bath. She had not slept well, her cough keeping them both awake through most of the night. She had expressed her concern at disturbing his rest, but he soothed her worries until finally she relaxed in his arms. It was only during the early morning hours that her cough had finally subsided and she found some relief in sleep.
She entered the room and, upon seeing him awake, greeted him with a warm smile. “Good morning, Fitzwilliam.”
“Good morning, Anne. How are you feeling?” he asked, concern showing on his face.
“Do not look so distressed, Fitzwilliam. I assure you I am well,” she offered. She felt so happy, and her heart was filled with such love for him that she did not wish to spoil the mood with talk of her health.
“If you don’t mind waiting, I will hurry and complete my ablutions so we can go down to Christmas brunch together,” suggested Darcy.
“I would like that very much.”
An hour later, both Darcy and Anne, dressed in their holiday best, opened the door to Anne’s bed chamber and walked right into Lady Catherine as she was passing Anne’s room. Having witnessed their intimate exchange at that very spot on the previous evening, Lady Catherine was quite delighted to see that her daughter was spending nights in Darcy’s company. She bid them good morning with such a lascivious smile that it made Darcy cringe.
Christmas brunch was all one would expect from the master of such a grand estate. The buffet was complete with a carved turkey and all its trimmings, venison and three different kinds of potatoes, followed by every pastry and dessert imaginable. By two in the afternoon, most of the party was ready to leave. Lady Catherine had offered to stay an extra day or two, but thankfully remembered that Mr. and Mrs. Collins would be calling on her at Rosings in a few days, giving her just enough allowance to make the journey home and prepare for her company.
With all the party gone, except for Richard, Anne expressed her desire to rest upstairs. Darcy escorted her to her room and returned to the library and his cousin. It had been such a long time since the two had been able to spend any amount of time together. Darcy had missed Richard’s companionship. After spending some time discussing the military and Richard’s recent assignments, their conversation eventually turned to Anne’s health.
“Has there been much change in her health of late?” inquired Richard.
“I’m afraid the only change has been for the worse. Her cough has been the cause of much distress, and she seems to tire quite easily. She can barely catch her breath after she has ascended the stairs to her room,” said Darcy.
“She did not seem to be that bad the last few days. I did not witness much coughing; maybe once or twice.”
“She has gotten very proficient at deception. She usually finds some reason to excuse herself when she feels a coughing bout coming on. I know she does so for my benefit,” said Darcy with a genuine look of sadness.
Darcy walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “Would you care for one?” he asked his cousin.
Richard nodded.
They sat down before the fire with drink in hand. Darcy looked over to his cousin and started to speak, but changed his mind. Upon doing the same for a second time, his cousin inquired, “Do you have something on your mind, Darcy?”
“Y
es, I do, Richard. However, the subject is such that I am somewhat reluctant. I know that you and I have always been able to discuss any situation without fear of judgment, but this time I may be asking too much of you.”
Intrigued by Darcy’s words, Richard encouraged him to proceed. “I don’t even know how to begin,” he stated as he stood and began his customary pacing.
Darcy took a deep breath followed quickly by a large swallow of his drink. He was not sure just how much he wished to reveal. That he had been so affected by Lizzy and that he had been tempted to take her for his mistress were not facts he wished to make known. Since it was of little consequence now, he saw no need to mention either. No, he would only disclose the most pertinent information.
And so he began. “I have done something that has set in motion an inescapable chain of events.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Caroline Bingley was once again feeling the triumph of victory as she took her place at the head of the table. Convincing her brother that it would be most advantageous to spend Christmas at Netherfield had been so easy, thanks in part to Darcy’s little heart to heart, that it was almost undeserving of her diligent machinations.
Even though she herself would much have preferred Christmas in London, she knew a little sacrifice on her part now would help guarantee her future. She looked around the table at her guests. I suppose this is the best that Hertfordshire has to offer, she thought meanly to herself.
Charles sat at the opposite end of the table, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst to his left, Mr. and Mrs. Collins to his right. On Caroline’s left were Mr. and Mrs. Lucas and to her right were the Lucases’ youngest daughter, Maria, and a very distinguished looking gentleman by the name of Dr. Adams. They had met recently while attending a small dinner party given by Sir William. She did not think much of him upon his introduction, but when she had overhead Sir William talking with his eldest daughter, Mrs. Collins, it was the mention of Mrs. Darcy that drew her attention. Apparently, Dr. Adams had attended the sickly Mrs. Darcy at Rosings. Since Dr. Adams was a recent widower, Caroline had generously offered, and he had graciously accepted, an invitation for Christmas dinner at Netherfield.
Without trying to appear too obvious, Caroline was using her limited charms to try to obtain any information she could regarding Mrs. Darcy’s health.
“How were Mr. and Mrs. Darcy when last in their company?” she asked casually.
Dr. Adams, always the consummate professional, answered with a non-committing, “Very well.”
“I had heard that Mrs. Darcy has been quite ill recently. Indeed, she had a most persistent cough when I last had occasion to dine with them,” Caroline pressed on.
“Yes . . . well. . . I believe she was in need of much rest, and I advised her accordingly. I have no doubt Mr. Darcy is attending to her needs admirably,” he replied uneasily.
Seeing that this was not going to be as easy as she thought, Caroline decided to postpone this topic of conversation for a more private setting. As she looked upon the gentleman, she assessed his appearance and deemed him quite presentable, though much older than herself. Perhaps if she were to become better acquainted with the good doctor, he might be more amenable to discussing his patient. What did she have to lose? She might as well occupy her time in a useful manner, as it might be a long while before she was again in Mr. Darcy’s company.
At the other end of the table, Charles Bingley was anything but cheerful. His usual happy demeanour was nowhere to be seen. He could not stop thinking about Miss Bennet. He had imagined her reaction to his letter many times in the last week, and each time it brought him pain.
How could he have been so insensitive? If it had been only Caroline’s displeasure with his attentions toward Miss Bennet, he would not have acquiesced to her will. However, the fact that his best friend, the man whose opinion he valued above all others, had also expressed his concern regarding his choice of Miss Bennet, caused him to feel obligated to follow his counsel.
Darcy had not exactly objected to Miss Bennet, he only wanted to advise him to act in a more prudent manner. Bingley could understand Darcy’s concern. There had been countless young ladies who had practiced their charms on the rich Mr. Darcy for no other reason than his wealth and position. But surely Miss Bennet was not like that. He could not be mistaken with regard to her feelings for him. But he could not disregard his friend’s advice.
He looked down at the end of the table and saw the satisfied grin on Caroline’s face. How could I have taken romantic advice from a woman who owns no heart? he thought as his eyes met hers.
~*~
Jane Bennet gave a deep sigh as she entered her small room at the Morgans’ townhouse. Christmas at Gracechurch Street had been very pleasant. She had missed her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and was happy that they were back from America. Her mother had been her usual self and relentlessly questioned her regarding Mr. Bingley. But it was good to be in her family’s company again and to see her younger sisters. Even Lydia had shown up with her husband, who was on leave from New Castle.
How she missed Elizabeth and longed to speak to her. She had not written to her yet of Mr. Bingley’s departure to Netherfield, for she did not want to elicit her pity. She would wait until the holidays were over before she burdened her sister with that news.
She had been quite surprised to find the letter from Mr. Bingley tucked inside a short note from Caroline which arrived a week ago. While Caroline’s note was obviously inconsequential and used only as a ruse to deliver Mr. Bingley’s letter, she could not help but react to the insensitive sentiment of Caroline’s words as she read:
December 17, 1812
My Dearest Jane,
I hope this note finds you and your family well. Charles and I wish you a happy Christmas, and while we do not expect to be again in your company very soon, we wish you joy in the coming year.
Your friend,
Caroline Bingley
The attached letter from Mr. Bingley was almost as formal, informing her of his decision to return to Netherfield, stating he had neglected his duties to his estate far too long, and he must now turn his attention to his business affairs. He had given no indication of when he might return to London.
Was their courtship over? Had she displeased him in some way? She now regretted her forwardness that night of his dinner party. At the time, he had not seemed to be offended by her actions. On the contrary, he had appeared rather delighted. Upon subsequent evenings, it was he who had initiated their intimacy, to which she had gladly been a willing participant. Their kisses had become more and more passionate with each new encounter. Upon their last evening together, she had to admit, things had gone a bit further than they had intended.
She felt a blush rise within her as she recalled the memory of his hand at first lightly brushing the skin of her décolletage and, as their passion escalated, his hand finding its way inside the neckline of her gown to encompass the bare skin of her breast. She thought she would faint at his touch, but she did not pull away. And now he had gone back to Netherfield. Could there be any other explanation? He had found her wanton, and it disgusted him. After crying herself to sleep for many nights, she decided it was time to pull herself together.
She was hoping that Lizzy would be able to visit her again soon. According to her last letter, the earliest she would be able to travel to London would be sometime in June or July. That seemed so far away. How was she ever going to survive until then?
~*~
Anne made her way back up the long staircase; her cough slowing her progress. As she approached her door, she paused to allow herself a chance to catch her breath. She stood with her hand on the knob for several minutes and finally, as her gasps for air subsided, she entered her chamber. She leaned back against the door, tears stinging her eyes. She walked slowly to her bed and sat on the edge, staring straight ahead, not moving a muscle, her mind a whirling mass of thoughts.
Having awakened from her rest, she had made her way downstairs to fin
d Fitzwilliam and Richard. As she approached the library she had heard her husband’s voice and was about to enter the room. Upon hearing his words, she had immediately stopped in her tracks. She could tell by the sound of his voice that the subject was of a serious nature. Thinking he was discussing her health with Richard, she had stood outside the door to hear their conversation.
“I have done something that has set in motion an inescapable chain of events.” There seemed to be no reply forthcoming from Richard. As she moved her body slightly as to see inside the room, she again heard her husband’s voice.
“Do you recall my trip to Scotland?” asked Darcy.
Richard nodded.
“My true purpose for travelling there was not for the reason we discussed. I travelled there with quite a different purpose in mind.”
Here he paused, not sure how to word his next statement. He paced the room to give himself time to form his thoughts. He stopped in front of the fireplace, looking into the flames. Finally he said, “I had arranged to meet a young woman there.” He did not have to look at Richard to gauge his reaction.
Anne was holding her breath. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest. This could not be true! There must be some reasonable explanation. But even as she thought this, her eyes were filling with tears.
“I entered into an agreement with this woman. For a specified amount of money, she would bear my child and heir.” Darcy kept his eyes on the fire, watching the flames, afraid to face his cousin.
After several moments of complete silence, Richard spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will not judge you, Fitzwilliam. That is for a much higher authority than I. You and you alone will have to bear whatever the consequences may be.”
With that, Darcy turned to look at his cousin. He could see the compassion in his eyes, and he knew they would be all right.
“Is the woman now with child?” asked Richard.
“Yes,” said Darcy. “The child shall be born in May. I engaged the services of an attorney, who has made all the arrangements as to the provisions of the agreement and has provided for her needs during her confinement. He is to be notified upon the birth of the child.”
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