Fine Eyes and Pert Opinions

by Maria Grace

  “I have only seen the opera dancers once, and I look forward to seeing them soon. Are you fond of the opera?” Elizabeth asked.

  The housekeeper slipped in and whispered something to Aunt Gardiner. “No, now is not the time.”

  A shadow in the door way cleared his throat.

  The housekeeper gulped and stammered, “Mr. Darcy. Madam.”

  Elizabeth’s face grew cold, and the room spun.

  He stepped inside, still favoring his injured ankle. His face pale and his cheeks drawn, it seemed he had not allowed his valet to shave him recently either. Had he not slept? Probably not. No doubt he was worried about Georgiana. Had he come to seek advice about her situation?

  “Pray, excuse me. I should go now. Good day, Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Bennet.” Mr. Cluett rose and bowed, though his tone suggested a bit of disappointment.

  Somehow Elizabeth managed to make it to her feet and curtsey.

  Mr. Darcy stepped aside to permit Mr. Cluett’s exit, then approached with slow heavy steps. His scent—sandalwood … and was it musk?— filled the room. Oh, to be back in Derbyshire, in the shadow of Pemberley!

  Why was he wearing riding boots—to support his ankle perhaps? He would never be so improper without a very good reason. It was the sort of thing Colonel Fitzwilliam might have suggested and something she should have thought of herself. At least he had someone to watch over him.

  “You are most welcome, Mr. Darcy. Might I inquire after your sister?” Aunt Gardiner gestured him toward a chair. The tight lines on her face—she was being polite, but was not pleased.

  “She is—no, I cannot say she is well, but she has improved. We will be returning to Derbyshire very soon.” He sat on the edge of the chair and looked directly at Elizabeth. “She would very much like for you to travel with us.”

  Aunt Gardiner crossed her arms and shook her head. “No. That is kind of you, but Lizzy has no plans to return to the vicarage. She is living with her uncle and me now.”

  Mr. Darcy drew breath, furrows deepening in his brow. “Mr. Bennet explained that to me. Still, we had hoped—”

  “No, sir. I must ask you to leave now. I will not entertain this conversation.” Aunt Gardiner stood.

  “Is that what you want?” Oh, the look, the longing—longing, is that what that was?—in his eyes.

  Her heartbeat, her breath, the rush of blood in her ears drowned out all the voices in the room. What should she want? What did she want? Hang it all, they were not the same. She should obey her father’s wishes. That was what was best for her, was it not? It always had been before.

  Her eyes burned, and she shook her head. No, no—everything she wanted was wrong. But it was what every fiber of her soul longed for.

  Uncle Gardiner’s strident tones jolted her back to the conversation. Aunt, Uncle, and Mr. Darcy stood near the doorway, arguing in low, strained voices.

  Elizabeth ran to them. “Pray stop! Have I no voice, no say in this?”

  “Your father was very clear, and you agreed.” Never had Elizabeth heard such reprimand in Aunt Gardiner’s tone.

  “Yes, yes, I know that is true. But I was not even able to say goodbye when I left Derbyshire. Do I not deserve at least the opportunity to do that now?”

  “It is not a good idea, Lizzy.” Uncle glowered at Mr. Darcy.

  “Have I not done everything you asked since I have been here? I have asked nothing until now. Does that not count for something?”

  The Gardiners exchanged a conversation in looks, raised eyebrows, pursed lips, and shrugs.

  “You may have a quarter of an hour. We will be in the hallway just beyond the door.” Uncle Gardiner led them out, pressing a doorstop under the door to keep it open as he passed.

  Mr. Darcy beckoned her a few steps away from the door. How difficult to control her trembling to make those few paces.

  “Pray, will you consider traveling with us?”

  “Why does Georgiana wish me to travel with her? You have not had another misunderstanding with her, have you?”

  “No, in fact, I think we have a greater understanding than we ever had before. We have been talking over the letters my mother left for us. The ones you directed Georgiana to in your letter to her.”

  She pressed her hand to her mouth, a chill slipping down her neck. “You saw that letter?”

  “Mrs. Reynolds found it and gave it to me in hopes it would offer some information on Georgiana’s whereabouts. You were very generous toward me in that letter, and you gave Georgiana excellent advice. We both regret that she did not read your letter before making her decision.” Darcy bounced steepled hands off his chin. “I cannot believe that you have known my family secrets for so long and never once gave indication to any of it.”

  “A secret is a secret. I had to honor your mother’s wishes.”

  “It seems as though you have known my family better than I have.”

  “No, not at all. I have simply known them differently.”

  “Pemberley is not the same without you. Nothing is right. Pray, come back with us.” He caught her gaze, the ache in his voice palpable.

  Elizabeth forced herself to walk to the other side of the room. How could she say what had to be said with him in close enough to touch? “I cannot.”

  “Is it your father?”

  “It is best that I stay.”

  “Why?” The voice came from just behind her, so close she could feel his warmth against her back. Why did he have to stand so close, teasing her with what she should not want?

  “Do not ask me that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I do not wish to answer.”

  “You have always been honest with me. Why will you not be so now?”

  “Pray stop. I cannot. Do not importune me further.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. Perhaps that would slow her thundering heart.

  “Are you not my friend any longer?”

  “I … I will always be your friend.”

  “Then come back to where you belong.”

  She whirled on him. How dare he continue to push her when she had clearly said—merciful heavens! She had never seen such a look on his face. But Papa …. “No, you must go, now. I pray you, do not persist in this. It cannot be.”

  “And that is your final answer?”

  “It has to be.” Why did it have to be?

  “I see.” Slow heavy steps withdrew towards the door.

  She held her breath until they faded away.

  There, she had done it, exactly what she was required to do, exactly what Papa insisted she needed to do. It was not right for her to leave the sphere to which she was born. And yet, was not coming to London doing just that? This was not her world, the city with all its wonders.

  There was nowhere she belonged now, not after turning away the one single person she could not do without. She clenched her jaw and pressed her lips together, eyes squeezed shut.

  Hot trails coursed down her cheeks. Foolish girl, only children cried— what purpose would there be in breaking down now? It would change nothing—and nothing would ever be right again.

  “I have tried, and I cannot ….”

  She whirled and stumbled.

  He caught her elbow and pulled her close. “I cannot function at all knowing you will not be there.” He caught her gaze with a near physical force. “Nothing has ever felt so right as having you stay at Pemberley—and nothing, nothing at all, has been right since you left me.”

  “I did not leave you,” she whispered into his chest.

  “I suppose not. I was the one who became betrothed to another.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was the worst mistake of my life. I regretted it almost as soon as it happened—and I am relieved it is over.”

  “Over?” No, that could not be what he said. She leaned back to look into his face.

  “She is on her way to Sicily. She dare not be associated with Georgiana’s indiscretions.”

  “I do not know what to say.”

 
“Richard insisted that offering for her was the right thing to do after the way I behaved toward her under the influence of that bloody—forgive me—tonic of hers. He did not know I had behaved much more improperly toward you.”

  “I told you, it is forgotten. You owe me nothing. Pray do not—”

  “I owe you a great deal.” He held her shoulders. “For returning my sister to me.” And closer still. “For showing me what an honorable woman does in the face of a difficult situation.”

  “I told you—”

  “For your patience and friendship and sound advice for so many years now. For your love—”

  “Pray stop this! I do not want you indebted to me.”

  He stepped nearer. “Pray then, what do you want?”

  “I want you to stop!” She covered her face with her hands. “I cannot continue this conversation.”

  “Elizabeth, I am so sorry.”

  She peeked over her fingers. Such tenderness in his eyes.

  “I have taken your friendship, your very presence, for granted, acting as though you would always be a part of Pemberley, with no consideration for … for anything.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “The perfect mistress of Pemberley has been in its shadow all this time. I have been too thick to see it.”

  “No.” She pushed his chest.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “You are exhausted. You feel guilty. You have no clear answers and that always makes you anxious. I will not see you make another decision you will regret.”

  “I love you.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I expect you understand the concept.” He cocked his brow, lips turning up a mite. Why did he have to look so handsome, so very dear, in this moment? “And while there are a great many things of which I am uncertain right now, I am unshakably certain—”

  “No, I cannot—”

  “Pray, allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

  “No, stop, lest you come to regret what you are saying.”

  He tipped her face up and stared into her eyes. Was that fear in his furrowed brow? “You do not love me?”

  She gulped deep breaths and squeezed her eyes shut, but she trembled hard in his hands. “Yes … no … I ….”

  “You might say those words, but I will not believe you.” He pulled her to his chest, his arms around her, safety enveloping her, taking her back to Pemberley.

  “I should not love you. I should never have permitted it.” She pressed her fist into his strong shoulder.

  “So, you do love me.” His arms tightened, so strong, so safe.

  “It is not fair, not to any of us. I must not.” She should pull away, leave before he spoke those words again, and her strength failed.

  “But you do.”

  No, no, she dare not confess to it. She choked back a sob.

  “If you love me, I will not leave here without you. I promise I shall never fail you again.”

  “But you cannot. You need so much more—”

  “You see, you do not deny it. You cannot.” Creases faded from his brow. “I do not need to marry a fortune. I need to be whole. I need to marry you.”

  “I cannot bear to be a decision you regret.”

  He pulled back a to look down into her eyes. “I am more worried that you might regret me. Is there someone else? Are you interested in that man who was here when I arrived?”

  “Mr. Cluett is a good man.”

  “But you are interested in his company?”

  “He is not you.”

  His lips twitched, the way they did when he was trying not to smile. He struggled a moment more, then surrendered to the expression, so compellingly handsome, happy. “So, you do love me.”

  “I am sorry. I should not. I have always been taught that I should not.”

  “But you do, and I am glad for it. More than I can say. If I am wrong, then tell me now, for if you do not, I shall kiss you. If you allow that, then I shall take that as your answer. You will accept my offer of marriage and come home with me to be Mrs. Darcy.”

  “There are so many who will disapprove my quitting the sphere to which I was born.”

  “None whose opinion matters to me.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

  Warm and soft at first, but then powerful and insistent. How could she not respond in kind?

  “You have made me the happiest of men. I insist you permit me to do the same for you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.” He cupped her cheek with his hand.

  “You already have.”

  ∞∞∞

  Darcy’s heart raced as the woods of Pemberley rose on the horizon, peeking between the half-drawn curtains on the coach’s side glass. After a week in London, and another five days more in travel—could he be more ready to be home? He relished each creak of the carriage springs, each jolt and jostle through the ruts and rises in the road, signs the journey was nearly over.

  So much remained unresolved, but with Elizabeth beside him, all would be well. He pulled her in just a mite closer to his side, drinking in the heady mix of her lavender perfume, the leather squabs, and the fresh fragrance of the fields. Yes, all would be well.

  Richard had disapproved of Darcy’s offer for her —loudly, with a great deal of stamping and shouting. His reasons were sound, even as his facts were right. But it did not mean Richard was right. And he did not like to be wrong.

  But neither was Richard a fool. When Elizabeth and the Gardiners laid out suggestions on how to navigate the social waters to minimize the possibility of scandal, he admitted Elizabeth might be a far greater social asset to Darcy and perhaps the entire family, than he had ever considered possible. It was a beginning, and that was enough for now, a season of beginnings.

  “You are still comfortable with our plan? I know how you feel about disguise.” Elizabeth nestled her cheek into his shoulder.

  “No, I am not, but I think you hardly expected me to be,” he whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “She is very young to be going to the continent.”

  Across from them, Georgiana stirred in her sleep.

  “Richard will keep good watch over her. I think even Anne will rise to the occasion, especially considering how often she has said that she wanted to see the continent.”

  “Do you really think a ball to celebrate her come-out is necessary?” Could he stomach entertaining guests again so soon?

  “It does feel a bit like rewarding her for her mistakes, but it will help quell rumors of her having run off, not to mention that she could hardly travel with her cousins whilst not yet out.”

  “Will a four-month journey be enough to ensure we know … know if ….” It was stupid to act as though saying the words would make them more likely to be true.

  “It will be. But do not borrow trouble. We shall hope for the best, even if we do have a plan for the worst.”

  He covered her hands with his and squeezed, and she twined her fingers through his. “How is it you have not changed your mind?”

  She slipped her arm around his waist. “Miss Garland hurt you deeply even if you did not truly care for her.”

  “I suppose she did. Foolish, is it not? Then again, it is not worse than I deserved for the way I overlooked and mistreated you.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “You are harder on yourself than I can ever be. The vicarage is not far. Are you certain you want to do this alone?”

  “I went against your father’s express wishes. He wanted me to leave you to your new life in London. I have no doubt he will be displeased with me. You do not need to witness that.”

  “Papa is not so awful when he is upset. I mean no disrespect, but he is nothing like your Father was when in high dudgeon.”

  “That might be the case, but he is also the only man who can deny me what I desire most. I cannot take that threat lightly.” The coach rolled to a stop in front of the vicarage, and he pushed the door open. “I will be at the house as soo
n as I can. Pray inform Mrs. Reynolds of whatever you see fit for her to know.”

  The sun hung just a handspan above the horizon, the sky turning gold with its descent. A fresh, cool breeze carrying the perfume of some unnamed flower and green grass welcomed him home. Home. Yes, he was home, and with Pemberley at his back and Elizabeth at his side, all would be well.

  He stared at the oak paneled vicarage door. But that was not going to accomplish his purpose. No, for that he had to knock. That much he could do. The rest? Perhaps, as Elizabeth told him, one step at a time was all he needed to be concerned with.

  The maid showed him to the vicar’s study, cluttered but welcoming as it always was.

  “Mr. Darcy!” Bennet scrambled to his feet, nearly dropping his cane in his haste to maneuver around his desk. “I pray it is not too forward of me to hope it is good news you are bringing. Pray, sit down.” He pointed a shaking hand at a pair of simple wooden chairs near the front of the desk.

  Darcy sat. “There is quite a bit of news to share, to be sure. In my opinion it is all good. I hope that you will share that opinion.”

  “I am quite intrigued. Do tell me all of this news.” Bennet slowly lowered himself into the chair.

  Darcy launched into a concise rendition of Georgiana’s rescue at Elizabeth’s hands.

  Bennet nodded and blinked, but waited far too long to speak. “I am very glad that your sister has been found. That alone is surprising enough, but Elizabeth’s part in it? If it were any other man telling me this, I would declare it all a fancy brought on by too much brandy.”

  Darcy pulled a letter from his pocket. “From Mr. Gardiner.”

  “There is no need, I am certain you could not invent any of this.” Bennet took the letter and laid it aside on his desk. He rubbed his hands together as though considering what to say. “I appreciate that you have confessed the way you violated my wishes in seeing Elizabeth. I did not make that clear to you, I suppose, but you should have inferred if from what I told you. Still, I can understand desperation—”

  “Pray, sir, before you finish forgiving me, there is more I need tell you.”

  “Is something amiss with Lizzy? She has not written to us this last week—”