Darcy and Diamonds

by Caitlin Marie Carrington

  “I’ll never marry you!”

  “No, you won’t. Keep up, darling. Caroline Doughton may be a fool, but Mr. Darcy is not. He’ll offer me a tidy sum to go away—forever. I’ll make him triple it, of course. Why are the rich always so damnably cheap? And then he’ll agree, and I’ll disappear a much wealthier man. And you? You and Mr. Darcy can have your pathetic happy ending. Hm, maybe minus that diamond tiara I heard him mention…"

  Men began to shout out in the hall. Elizabeth could hear racing footsteps, and then a loud banging on the door followed. Elizabeth sobbed, trying to wrench the awful man off of her. But it was no use. And Mariah had left the door unlocked, so it flew open most easily.

  Mr. Darcy charged into the room—only to discover Elizabeth wrapped in another man’s arms.

  30

  Elizabeth

  “It’s not true!” she cried, and suddenly Mr. Gladwell released her.

  Elizabeth stumbled forward, and Mr. Darcy raced to catch her before she fell.

  And, oh Lord, she suddenly wished she was still in Mr. Gladwell’s arms.

  Because she watched Mr. Darcy take in the scene. The rumpled bed. The shadowed room. Her torn gown—his eyes paused there, before coming to meet hers—and the fact that as soon as the door had burst open, she had been running from Mr. Gladwell’s embrace.

  As if she had been guilty.

  “Elizabeth,” he said, his eyes wide with shock.

  “It’s not true,” she cried, feeling tears fall. “He’s a liar!”

  “Now, now, my dear Elizabeth.” She heard Mr. Gladwell walking up behind her, and then he had the audaciousness to place his rough hand on her naked shoulder, just as her aunt and uncle and Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the room.

  “Don’t touch me!” she hissed, running from him.

  But everywhere she turned, she found faces full of concern—and judgement.

  No, no, they can’t believe this! Elizabeth thought.

  But you believed that Mr. Darcy and Caroline were intimate in the library, and this is a thousand times worse. Elizabeth began to shake, staring from her Aunt Gardiner’s horrified face, to her uncle’s, to her beloved Mr. Darcy’s.

  Why is it always easiest to believe our worst fears?

  “I wish you would have knocked,” Mr. Gladwell said, smiling and opening his arms as if welcoming them all. “Though we were just finished here, weren’t we, my dear Elizabeth?”

  “Don’t call me that,” she said, her voice shaking. “Aunt, Uncle—Mr. Darcy—I have been kept here against my will. Mr. Gladwell—if that is even his name—is a thief and liar and he wishes to—”

  Mr. Darcy stepped forward and took her hand—though only to draw her back and behind him. Then he released her, keeping his eyes on Mr. Gladwell the entire time. “He wishes to demand money, I imagine.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth whispered. She saw Mr. Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, moving carefully around the edge of the room. She’d met him years ago, and although he had aged and moved with a slight limp, he still looked fierce.

  And furious.

  “He has a knife,” she whispered.

  “Of course he does,” Mr. Darcy said. “Mrs. Gardiner, would you please go and fetch my driver? And have him bring a few lads up here—oh, and have them find and detain the maid who brought us here. Mr. Gardiner, would you shut the door, please. And be warned: Elizabeth says he has a knife.”

  “A knife doesn’t scare me,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said from the corner. Elizabeth realized that even her uncle was slowly moving in on Mr. Gladwell.

  “Gentlemen, calm yourselves!” Mr. Gladwell said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife, then dropped it point-down onto the wooden floor.

  He also pulled out the letter he had stolen from Darcy. In front of her, Elizabeth could see Mr. Darcy’s frame stiffen at the sight of it.

  “I really don’t want any blood spilt today, do you all?” Mr. Gladwell said. “And let us not waste time with lies and falsehoods, shall we?” He turned and faced Mr. Darcy. “You wish to marry Mrs. Allerton; I have it here in your letter. And yet she is now compromised—by the way, I doubt you’ll find the maid—”

  “They are siblings!” Elizabeth said.

  Mr. Gladwell glared at her. “Sisters, so terribly annoying. I think we’d agree on that point, wouldn’t you say, Mrs. Allerton? But she’s quick little thing and I’m sure she’s hidden away now. But she saw us—tragically—Mrs. Allerton and I, abed.”

  “She saw no such thing,” thundered Elizabeth’s uncle.

  “Perhaps not—but she’ll tell everyone she did. And that’s what matters, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Mr. Darcy said, stepping closer to the vile man. “No, the truth matters. I know Elizabeth would not have come here willingly.”

  “Perhaps not.” Mr. Gladwell stepped closer to Mr. Darcy, but not so close that Mr. Darcy could touch him. “But the rumors—those awful rumors—will begin. And we all know how much you hate scandal, Mr. Darcy. Caroline Doughton told me all about it. Your sister, poor dear.”

  An enraged sound escaped from Colonel Fitzwilliam, though Darcy made a slight gesture with his hand, as if to warn his cousin not to attack.

  “Caroline?” Mr. Darcy said.

  “Caroline hired him to—to attempt to woo me at Netherfield,” Elizabeth said.

  “Seduce you, really. And now I have succeeded—at least, that is what we shall everyone.”

  “Unless I pay you, enough that you disappear from our lives forever?” Mr. Darcy said with a growl.

  Mr. Gladwell grinned, his eyes full of greed and malice. “Exactly.”

  More shouts came from the hallway. Mr. Gardiner made to open the door, but Darcy said, “Wait. Tell them to wait one moment.”

  Mr. Gardiner nodded and Elizabeth clenched her fists. She could not allow this to happen.

  “How much are you asking for?” Mr. Darcy said.

  “Wait.” Elizabeth stepped to his side and looked up at him. He met her gaze and—smiled?

  “Don’t do it,” she begged. “Don’t give him a thing. How can we trust that he would ever leave you be? He will appear again in a year, demanding more. If you give him one farthing, you’ll never be free of him.”

  Mr. Darcy smiled again—with a touch of sadness now? “I couldn’t agree more. And that is why I won’t pay him. At all.”

  Elizabeth nodded and stepped back. She was happy but—why was her heart pounding? As if it might break out of her chest?

  She knew this was the correct course of action. She would never want Mr. Darcy hurt or compromised.

  But still…

  To know that they would never marry. To know that there was a price on his love—it was what she wanted.

  But her heart felt like it was breaking.

  “I’m sorry?” Mr. Gladwell said, frowning. “But—your letter—you were going to ask her to marry you—”

  Elizabeth could not watch. She turned and walked toward her uncle. But then Mr. Darcy said, “Oh, I’m going to ask her to marry me. But you won’t ever know more than that.”

  Elizabeth gasped and turned around, staring at Mr. Darcy.

  He turned and smiled at her.

  “The men are at the door,” Mr. Gladwell said. “What are you going to say—that you compromised her? No one will believe it.”

  Mr. Darcy shrugged, meeting his cousin’s eyes for a moment. They had maneuvered Mr. Gladwell between them, and the thief could not reach either the windows or the door without first going through one of them.

  “No, there is no need. You see, Mrs. Allerton once told me that she has none of the usual inducements to marry. She need marry no one. And so you cannot shame her, or me, into doing your bidding. I will not claim to have compromised her, and if you do so, Sir, no one will believe you.”

  Mr. Darcy turned and smiled at Elizabeth, and she felt the ache in her chest begin to disappear. Indeed, all the tension and pain she’d been clinging to began to float away, like ear
ly-morning mist under sunshine.

  “She has her freedom and that is invaluable.” Mr. Darcy smiled once more at her, and then turned back to Mr. Gladwell. “And freedom, Sir, is something you no longer may lay claim to.”

  “What?” Mr. Gladwell cried, horrified.

  “Open the door,” Mr. Darcy ordered. He turned and spoke to Mr. Gardiner. “I believe Newgate will be an appropriate new home for Mr. Gladwell—or whatever his name might be.”

  Mr. Darcy began to walk toward her. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, and only then did she see how terrified he’d been. “My God, Elizabeth—”

  And then Mr. Gladwell charged at Darcy’s back. His face was twisted with rage, his eyes dilated almost to black, and from his coat he’d pulled another knife—

  “Darcy! Behind you!” Elizabeth screamed as Mr. Gladwell raised his fist, the knife glinting in the candlelight—and drive it down and deep, directly into Mr. Darcy’s back.

  Or, that’s what he tried to do.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam gave an enormous shout and flung himself on the madman, not enough to stop him, but enough to disrupt his aim. Elizabeth gasped as the knife sliced through Mr. Darcy’s sleeve, blood flowing immediately from the wound.

  But it didn’t stop Mr. Darcy.

  He turned and grabbed Mr. Gladwell’s arm with his left hand—and punching him square on the nose with his right fist. Mr. Gladwell’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling, and he crumpled immediately to the floor.

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream, but she was beaten to it by another female’s voice. And then the room was full of men, grabbing Mr. Gladwell, bringing his wailing sister inside, and shouting at Colonel Fitzwilliam to stop punching the fallen villain.

  “He’ll—never—threaten—Georgianna—again.” Elizabeth heard the Colonel growl before three men pulled him off of Mr. Gladwell.

  Elizabeth ignored all of it, and ran to Mr. Darcy’s side. Or did he reach her first?

  It did not matter, because then she was in his arms, wrapped in his love and comfort and safety, and he was kissing her hair and saying her name, over and over and over again. Then he bent down and picked her up, despite his bleeding arm and the chaos all around them.

  “I’m taking you out of here. I’m taking you home. Or where I trust will be your home soon enough.”

  “Well, that’s a bit arrogant,” she said, looking into his sky-blue eyes. “Rather despotic of you, I might add.” For a moment, Mr. Darcy looked completely panicked and Elizabeth burst into laughter as he carried her through the halls and back into the safety of the Gardiners’ chambers.

  “You look more scared of me than of horrible Mr. Gladwell!”

  Mr. Darcy laughed and delicately, and only somewhat reluctantly, placed her back on her feet outside the Gardiners’ door. “Elizabeth, trust me, I am.”

  And then he took both her hands in hers and stared at her with so much fierce love that she felt she might cry again.

  “Come inside,” she whispered. “You are bleeding. We must tend to your arm.”

  But after greeting her aunt and uncle—and assuring them that Elizabeth was safe, his wound did not hurt, and that all would be well—he refused to stay and have his arm tended.

  “I made the mistake once, of knowing that a man was a threat and not ensuring he was put behind bars. I vowed never to do that again, and so I must go. I will make sure that Mr. Gladwell and his sister never harm another soul.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip and watched Mr. Darcy painfully adjust his coat.

  “You are being hard-headed,” she fretted. “We cannot have you hurt, Mr. Darcy.”

  He met her eyes as he stepped over the threshold. “I must do this, Elizabeth. And I am not hurt.” He laughed as she continued to stand there, frowning, and then took a step closer to her.

  Quite closer, in fact. So close that he bent over her and touched her nose with his. When he whispered, she knew that no one else could hear him.

  “Elizabeth, I could not live with myself if they escaped or hurt someone else. I shall not debate it with you.”

  She met his eyes, pressing her body closer to his heat and strength. “Mr. Gladwell said you intend to marry me.”

  He didn’t blink. “I do.”

  “You know I will only consent to becoming your wife if you treat me as your friend and your equal.” He nodded slowly, watching her with interest. “So I do not appreciate you running off and leaving me—terrified for your safety.”

  His eyes softened. “Are you telling me that you don’t want me to go, because you are worried for me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Yes. I might care for you…somewhat.”

  He bit his lip and grinned down at her. “Why do I have a feeling that, with you, everything will be up for debate?”

  Lizzy tried not to smile. “Because everything shall be.”

  He nodded. “And why do I have the feeling that you will win each and every argument?”

  Now she could not stop staring up at him with complete adoration. “Because I shall.”

  “Aren’t I lucky, then,” Mr. Darcy said. “That I will have such a clever wife.”

  He bent down, and she realized that he wished to kiss her—but then he drew away and looked behind her. “Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Elizabeth wishes to come with me to ready the transport of the Gladwells.”

  Behind her, Elizabeth heard her aunt begin to wail and her uncle begin to immediately disagree. Mr. Darcy assured them of her safety, and that he would not let her out of his—or his newly acquired guards’—sight for one moment.

  “I’m not sure about this at all, Mr. Darcy,” her uncle said, casting a worried look at Lizzy.

  “I’m sorry.” Mr. Darcy shrugged at him, and then winked at her. “The matter is not one for debate.”

  31

  Darcy

  “Is this thing too tight?” Darcy’s hands found his cravat for the eightieth time that night.

  His valet practically slapped his hands away. “It is perfect, Sir. Your attire is the height of fashion.”

  Darcy frowned at his reflection in the mirror. “I didn’t ask if it was the height of fashion, Dawson. I just wanted to know if I shall be able to breathe.”

  Dawson swallowed whatever reply he wished to make, instead handing his employer the small, velvet bag he’d ordered brought to him.

  “I’m sorry, Dawson. I’m in a bit of a state.”

  “It’s quite all right, Sir.”

  “The tiaras and such—they are on display in the gallery hall?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And dinner? Dinner is set for eight?”

  “Most assuredly, Sir.”

  “And you really think this jacket looks well enough?”

  “You look dashing, Sir.” Dawson leaned forward and whispered. “She will think so, as well.”

  Darcy grimaced and nodded and dismissed him. He was sure it was entirely his imagination, but as soon as he shut the door, laughter seemed to explode from inside his chambers.

  “Deuce it all,” he muttered, racing down the stairs and toward the front hall.

  “Are they here?” he barked.

  Mrs. Reynolds came hurrying to meet him. “If they were, you’d scare them away! Try not to look so terribly angry when your guests arrive. And, yes, their carriage was spotted coming down the drive.”

  Darcy pulled at his damnably tight collar. “I’m not angry. Do I look angry?”

  “Don’t lie to him, Mrs. Reynolds!” Georgiana cried from above him on the stairs.

  His sister and Fitzwilliam joined him in the entry hall. Georgi pretended to examine him thoroughly. “I’d say you look perturbed. Perhaps a bit feverish?”

  Fitzwilliam squinted at him and whispered, “Your cravat’s too tight.”

  And then the front doors were being opened and the Gardiners were greeting him, but all Darcy saw was the slight figure behind them. He was sure he introduced the Gardiners and Elizabeth to his sister and cousin. And they must have disc
ussed the weather, and the transport of the Gladwells to Newgate, and fifty other things.

  Someone ordered tea, he was certain about that.

  But he couldn’t remember one thing except…Elizabeth was smiling at him.

  Or perhaps trying not to laugh.

  He tugged on the cravat, hoping that wasn’t the reason for her amusement.

  Finally, Mrs. Reynolds entered the parlor where he sat with his guests. “Mr. Darcy, dinner will be served in one hour. Did you wish to give to show your guests the renovations in the gallery hall?”

  Darcy leapt from his seat, so quickly and violently that he knocked over Fitzwilliam’s cane.

  “It’s fine, it’s fine,” his cousin said. “Mrs. Allerton, do you mind terribly walking ahead with Darcy? He’s obviously eager to show off his paintings or whatnot. But my leg is aching something awful—Georgi, darling, do you mind helping me up? Oh, Mr. Gardiner, can you lend a hand?”

  “Thank you,” Darcy mouthed to Fitzwilliam as he let Elizabeth walk through the doorway first.

  “Return the favor some day!” Fitzwilliam said too loudly.

  And then they were alone, walking to the gallery hall where he had first met her inside Pemberley.

  “How are you today?” he said. Besides lovely and perfect and here with me.

  Elizabeth turned and smiled. “Worried about you. Is your arm any better? I cannot believe that just three days ago you rescued me from a madman!”

  Darcy bit his lip and grinned, leading her down the long halls. “I’m not sure how heroic I was.”

  “Very,” she said, biting her lip as well.

  “As were you. The representatives from Newgate were quite impressed with your written testimony. As was I.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I know. I’m rather impressive.”

  They had reached the hall where his family’s portraits and sculptures were displayed.

  “I know Mrs. Reynolds just gave you an excellent tour, I’m sure, but I had a few old pieces brought out, that I thought you might like to see.”

  Elizabeth nodded and he led her over to a low table, which had been brought in just for tonight. A fortune worth of jewels had carefully been laid on a velvet-lined tray, and put on display.