“Elizabeth,” he said in a low voice. He leaned in slowly, catching her eyes before quietly touching his mouth to hers.
She let him kiss her, overwhelmed by the sensation, succumbing to it nonetheless. After long moments passed thusly, Darcy sat back, his eyes fixed on her face.
“I—“ Elizabeth found that words escaped her grasp.
“Yes,” said Darcy, insensibly. He appeared to have lost his words as well.
“Excuse me. Goodnight, sir,” said Elizabeth. She made her way from the room in haste.
“Goodnight, Elizabeth,” said Darcy as the library door closed behind her.
Chapter 5
A week passed without much to distinguish it. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had been married a month or longer when a letter arrived by messenger for Elizabeth. She recognized the handwriting as Jane’s, though only barely, for it was obviously dispatched with some urgency. Breathless with fear of what news it might hold, Elizabeth tore into the letter right where she stood in the hall.
Dearest Lizzy,
I have the most wonderful news. Charles Bingley and I are to be married!
Elizabeth stopped reading immediately and, as her trembling knees threatened to topple her over, she opened the nearest door to find a chair. Hands shaking, she resumed reading.
He called at my uncle’s house in Cheapside three days ago and apologized most prettily for not having visited sooner. He was only just informed I was in town. His sisters have apparently kept him quite busy with social gatherings since their arrival in London, which surely explains why they, too, have not called.
At this, Elizabeth could not suppress an indelicate snort. But Jane would see the best in everybody, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst included.
Charles has been with us every day since, for as long as propriety will allow. I believe my aunt may have invented some excuses to leave us alone on at least two occasions. The second time she did so, Mr. Bingley professed that he’d loved me since the summer, since even the ball at Netherfield Park, but that he thought me indifferent somehow.
Can you imagine? He thought I was indifferent to him!
I let it be known nothing could be further from the truth, and he proposed that very moment. Oh, Lizzy! My heart hurts for smiling so much. I wish you were here to see it. I am so very happy. I can only hope my felicity in marriage compounds your own.
I hope you see you very soon.
Yours, etc.
Elizabeth could not contain her smile, nor the happy tears that tracked around it. She was steadfast in the opinion that no one on earth deserved happiness more than her sister.
“Forgive me for intruding,” said a voice from elsewhere in the room. Elizabeth looked around and found Darcy sitting at his desk. She’d inadvertently made her way to the library, apparently. He continued. “I trust you are well?”
He seemed afraid that she should be on the verge of collapse. Elizabeth laughed more freely than she’d done in weeks.
“I am very well, Darcy. I am so exceedingly well, that you may congratulate me. My sister Jane writes that she is now engaged to your friend, Mr. Bingley.”
Darcy smiled, and she felt its warmth to her core. Elizabeth had never seen him smile like that before.
“I had news of it from Charles just this morning,” he said. “Your sister has made him a happy man.”
“But how could it have happened? And so suddenly,” said Elizabeth. Her surprise ebbed enough to allow in some suspicion; she turned its aim to the man across the room. “Did you have some hand in this?”
Darcy crossed the room to sit next to her.
“Before we quit Netherfield Park last summer, I was persuaded that your sister did not like my friend in any particular way and I cautioned Charles to school his behavior as such. For that, I believe I may have done your sister a disservice, and I am sorry,” said Darcy. “It was on my counsel and with his sisters’ support that he was persuaded we should leave for town at once; that the separation would provide the fastest means of repairing any injured feelings. So we left.”
“Upon my word, Mr. Darcy,” cried Elizabeth. “Given the nature of the news I’ve just received, I cannot determine whether I’m supposed to be angry with you.”
“You asked me whether I had a hand in the matter,” he said. “You may not enjoy the hearing of it but let me assure you in the strongest possible language, Elizabeth, I will always answer you truthfully.”
Assuaged, she bade him continue.
“After our conversation at dinner the other night, I took it upon myself to write to Charles. You made it clear to me that we, all of us, might have mistaken your sister’s composure for indifference. I wrote to him expressing that I had perceived my error. That is all. Much as I might wish to help my friend, I would not betray your confidence.”
Elizabeth took those words to her heart, embracing them deep into her memory. One rarely finds so steady a confidant in life; more rarely still in marriage.
“The rest was up to Charles,” said Darcy. He watched her carefully, but Elizabeth was satisfied.
“Then you are the author of all this happiness,” said Elizabeth, the threat of tears returning with her joy.
“I cannot claim to be the author of any of it,” said Darcy, smiling himself. “But I am glad it gives you happiness.”
Given their recent intimacy and her abounding joy Elizabeth chose not to contain herself and hugged him to her. His surprise was so great that for a moment he did not move, stilling himself against the pleasure he felt from having her pressed so close. When she did not immediately pull away, Darcy wrapped his arms around her and held her fast.
“Will you come to me tonight?” Elizabeth whispered the words she could not say aloud. His arms tightened in response.
“If you would have me,” whispered Darcy in return. “You must know how much I adore you. If you would have me, I will come to you.” Elizabeth trembled against him and nodded. He kissed her then, unable to withstand the temptation when she was so near.
Elizabeth left the room with half a mind to respond to Jane’s letter. Upon entering her own rooms, however, she found half a mind insufficient to the task and gave it up until morning. She busied herself doing nothing much at all but attempting to pass the time, Darcy and the impending evening uppermost in her thoughts.
Dinner that evening was a stilted affair. Both Darcys were too much occupied with the events to occur later in the evening to do the meal any justice at all; the cook was most put out. By the time their desserts were returned, untouched, to the kitchen, Elizabeth could not contain her blushes. Intimacy in marriage was a given, a duty; she’d heard married ladies talking from time to time and knew it could be enjoyable as well. Her thoughts remained in that vein until at last Darcy stood from the table. His own color had peaked on entering the dining room and had not ebbed.
A commotion at the front door disrupted their exit. They moved quickly to the hall to discover the source of the disturbance; Darcy got there first.
“Brother!”
A flash of blonde curls dashed past Elizabeth and into Darcy’s arms.
“Georgiana,” he said, embracing her. “What in heaven’s name are you doing back so soon? Your last letter indicated you’d be in Brighton for at least another week.”
Georgiana Darcy did not immediately answer, for she was overcome and weeping into her hands.
“Come,” said Darcy, leading her toward the nearest parlor. He rang for tea and came back to Elizabeth in the hall.
“I’m afraid this may interfere with your plans for the evening,” said Elizabeth in a low voice once he’d returned to her.
“Elizabeth,” said Darcy. His face was taut with some unseen struggle. Georgiana’s tears redoubled their intensity; they could hear her crying now even out in the hall. “I must see to my sister. Will you wait for me?”
“It will keep, sir,” said Elizabeth, reaching for grace and finding it a challenge under the circumstances. “Tend to your sister and nevermind
the rest. But I will wait, if you desire it.”
“Please,” he said. He leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek, taking the opportunity to whisper in her ear. “Wait for me upstairs.”
Elizabeth nodded and retired to her rooms.
Chapter 6
Darcy did not come for her; or if he did, she’d already fallen asleep and he did not condescend to wake her. Elizabeth dressed for breakfast, eager to meet her new sister but wary over what could have upset the girl so terribly. Every account she’d had of Georgiana Darcy had rendered her beautiful and fine in Elizabeth’s mind; she was said to be every bit as clever as her elder brother, but softer and more agreeable by far. And so very accomplished, according to Miss Caroline Bingley. After such an alarming, inauspicious entrance, Elizabeth knew not what to expect.
The breakfast room was unoccupied, much to her frustration. Elizabeth sat down to her meal, eating without tasting as her thoughts divided between Georgiana’s unexpected arrival, the possible cause of her distress, and Darcy’s interrupted plans for last evening. She’d just begun to dwell on the latter when the man himself arrived in the breakfast room.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” said Darcy. “I trust you slept well?”
“I did,” she replied. He looked tired, and she said so.
“Yes, Georgiana and I were up rather late talking things over. I don’t expect we’ll see her before luncheon, given her travels yesterday and the late hours we kept.” Elizabeth fancied she saw him move his chair a little closer to hers before sitting down next to her.
“I do hope she’s feeling better,” said Elizabeth, warming a little at his proximity; her earlier thoughts about their aborted evening had not gone far.
“I daresay she will be,” said Darcy. He attended to his meal, unaware of her reaction. Elizabeth found her own appetite had gone. He glanced at the servants standing near the door and lowered his voice. “It was very late when I came to your room; you were already asleep.”
“I am sorry for that,” said Elizabeth, blushing furiously. “You ought to have woken me.”
“It was a novel experience, seeing you still,” said Darcy. He sounded amused but she dared not look him in the eye just yet. “I confess, your ever-working mind is among my favorite of your attractions. You appear different, somehow, when it is at rest.”
Were he another man, Elizabeth would suspect him to be teasing her. As it was, so much intimacy, even if only implied, kept her color high.
“Sir, I expect this is a conversation best held in private.”
“Not at all,” he said, resuming a polite tone and raising his voice a bit. Darcy sat back; she’d scarcely noticed he’d been leaning in to her but felt the effects of his absence immediately. Darcy observed her blushes and permitted her polite withdrawal without comment; secretly he reveled in her agitation, for it meant she must not be wholly indifferent to him.
“In any case,” said Elizabeth, changing the subject as soon as her thoughts cleared. “What upset your sister so very much? I’d been given to understand that, for a girl of seventeen, she is possessed of quite an even tempered nature.”
“I’m afraid I cannot answer you,” said Darcy.
“She must have told you what happened.”
“She did, of course. But my sister’s confidence is one I will not break.”
Elizabeth did not care for the implication in his words. She supposed that he referred to her breaking Jane’s confidence last week, when she’d admitted Jane’s feelings for Bingley.
“You’re referring, I assume, to my own breach of confidence last week; you did not seem to disapprove at the time,” she said. The color in her cheeks now stemmed from quite a different source. He looked at her with some surprise but any reply Darcy might have made her was interrupted by the arrival of the youngest Darcy.
“Good morning, brother,” said Georgiana. She appeared much recovered this morning to Elizabeth’s eyes. “Will you do me the honor of introducing me to my new sister?”
Elizabeth and Darcy stood from the table.
“Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy,” he said. “My sister, Georgiana Darcy.”
“I do hope you can forgive my intrusion last evening,” said Georgiana.
“Please, think nothing of it. This is your home,” replied Elizabeth.
“And your home, as well. I hope you like it here.” Darcy had been faithful in his letters to his sister, especially in the praise of the woman who was now his wife; Georgiana considered that reason to hope they would be sisters in spirit as well as in fact.
They sat to breakfast. As both women had anticipated the meeting with every intention of being delighted with the other, any pretense of formality was soon put to rest. In less than an hour’s time, Elizabeth no longer felt her inquiries trespassed where they oughtn’t, but she approached the topic of Georgiana’s unexpected arrival with some hesitation anyway.
“Forgive me if I speak out of turn, Miss Darcy,” she said.
“Oh, please, do call me Georgiana, for I feel we are sisters already.”
“Then you must call me Elizabeth, for I am quite of the same mind. But will you tell me what prompted your return last evening? I do not wish to pry, but if there is any way I can be of some help to you, I’d like to know how.”
Georgiana paused for a moment. Darcy made to intervene, but she shushed him; the matter was hers to disclose and she was of a mind to confide in the woman she now called ‘sister’.
“To answer you, I must inform you of the history of my acquaintance with a man called George Wickham.”
Having what little knowledge on the matter she possessed only secondhand, Elizabeth held her tongue.
Georgiana related the same facts which had been made known to Elizabeth by her housemaid-informants. The servants had the major elements of the story correct; Mr. Wickham had indeed imposed himself on Georgiana by making himself out to be in love with her. He had convinced her to elope with him; Darcy had discovered the plan in time to prevent its execution.
It was Mr. Wickham’s reappearance that had caused Georgiana Darcy’s unexpected return home. He had turned up at a ball in Brighton, at the home of Georgiana’s friend whom she’d traveled there to visit. Mr. Wickham was stationed there with his regiment, Georgiana had learned, and would be staying there some weeks. Unprepared for such a meeting, she’d made some excuse to her friends about being needed at Pemberley at once. She’d left the ball immediately before Mr. Wickham could speak to her; she’d packed and left the very next morning, too unnerved by his sudden appearance to think of sending a message to warn of her changed plans or her impending arrival.
“And for that I am sorry to you both,” said Georgiana at the end of her tale. “I would that I’d kept the presence of mind to at least write a note to warn you. My complete upset last night is wholly unlike me, I promise.” She spoke this last chiefly to Elizabeth.
“I believe you,” said Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth has met Mr. Wickham,” said Darcy, speaking for the first time since introducing his wife to his sister. “His regiment was in Meryton this last summer, near her family’s home.”
Georgiana turned, her eyes wide.
“Your brother speaks the truth,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Wickham has pleasing manners that made him several friends in that neighborhood.”
“Is he a friend of yours, then?”
Elizabeth looked Darcy sharply, finding his question rather less than courteous. “He is not, nor was he before learning of his horrid treatment of your sister. In point of fact, I ought to write to my sisters and mother to warn them, should the regiment return to Meryton.”
A knock at the door brought a footman; a letter had arrived for Elizabeth from Longbourn.
“Go, please,” said Georgiana. “Read your letter. We can delay our plans to walk another hour, if you like.”
Elizabeth excused herself, returning to her chambers to read. The letter came from her sister Kitty; the contents were chiefly complaints. I
t did, however, convey one piece of news Elizabeth found distressing. She returned downstairs promptly to find Darcy alone in the library.
“My sister has gone to change for your walk,” he said. “Shall I summon her?”
“Not yet,” said Elizabeth. She took the chair opposite his desk, dropping the letter in front of him. “You may read it if you like, but I can tell you more quickly the point of it.”
“Has something happened?”
“Not yet,” said Elizabeth. “But I fear it soon may. My sister Kitty writes that our father granted Lydia permission to travel to Brighton.”
“Alone? Surely not; I understand she is rather young.”
“She has gone as the companion to Colonel Forster’s new wife.”
“You fear she will come to some harm?”
“I fear she may do some harm. For Lydia to be so far from home, otherwise unchaperoned, and in the company of nothing but soldiers? God help us all.”
“What will you have me do?” he asked. “I’ll assist in any way you bid me.”
“I will write to her first; perhaps I can persuade her to visit us here, if she will not be sent home directly. If I do not succeed there, I should like to travel to Brighton to collect her. I cannot conceive that my father thought this prudent. Lydia is headstrong and determined to have her fun; she is never conscious of its cost.” Elizabeth spoke this last with heat in her face; she could not meet his eyes, knowing that any embarrassment Lydia might cause, Darcy must now have a share in it.
“Elizabeth,” said her husband coming to stand with her. He took her hand, pressing it between his own. “We will see her secured. Do not upset yourself.”
“Thank you, sir,” she whispered.
Another knock at the door broke them apart at once; it was another letter. Elizabeth opened the note from Jane; for a note it was, no more than a page long. It was the work of a moment to discover the point of its contents, and Elizabeth cried out in distress.
Darcy came to her side immediately, his arm under hers the only thing to keep her standing at that moment. He helped her to a chair. She began to weep, handing him the note to read for himself. It was a long moment before he spoke.
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