“He saved the boy, Elizabeth.” Thomas clasped his hands behind his back. “George would have that be the most important consideration.”
A knock came from the door, and Elizabeth backed from his arms.
“Yes!”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but Miss Darcy is awake.”
Elizabeth placed a hand on both of their forearms. “I shall go to her. I told Mrs. Reynolds not to have a large dinner for this evening. I feared none of us would have much of an appetite.”
“I agree.” Fitzwilliam still had that dry knot in his throat that he could not seem to swallow or purge. He doubted he could eat much without casting his accounts.
“We shall also have callers and those who come to the funeral. I instructed that refreshments be ready for when callers arrive.”
“Thank you,” he said. “You will help keep Georgiana from this room?”
Elizabeth’s eyes darted back to his father. “Yes. Your father would not want her to remember him this way. Perhaps we shall call on the family whose child he saved. That might also be a way to reconcile her feelings. She can also visit the headstone once he is buried.”
“I want him interred in the church at Kympton with my mother.”
Her hand squeezed his arm. “I am certain he would like that.”
She hurried out, leaving him with her husband—his cousin and godfather. What did Thomas think of him? Despite Elizabeth’s reassurances, Thomas could not be so indifferent towards his wife, could he?
“In regards to the incident in the library, you are truly not angry with me?”
One side of Thomas’s lips curved. “No, I am not. Now, let us go find that letter and your father’s paperwork. Have you messaged everyone in the family—Lord and Lady Matlock and Lady Catherine?”
Fitzwilliam started towards the study. “I sent an express to my uncle when I penned one to you. I have not sent any notice to my aunt as of yet.”
“Thank goodness,” said Thomas. “We shall need to do so this evening, then we shall have to be prepared. Once she knows, she will spare no time in arriving and demanding her own way. You will have to stand your ground against her. She is a formidable woman, but do not give her manipulations any credence.”
“My father always expected her to demand I wed Anne.”
“I expect the same. Do not be surprised if she drags that sickly child here as well to carry her point. I also would not put it past her to demand Georgiana live with her.”
He stopped in his tracks while his body went rigid. “She will not take Georgiana. My sister remains with me.”
“Good. You will need to maintain that strength of determination with her. Do not worry. I shall be with you. We shall not let her have her way.”
Chapter 10
August 11th 1809
Doves House
London
My dear friend,
As I write this, word circles London of Mr. George Darcy’s tragic demise. My husband has penned a letter to the son expressing our condolences, yet as I am sure you and your husband are providing whatever aid the Darcys require. Pray ensure they know we are pleased to be of aid in whatever manner they require. Mr. Darcy was such a fine gentleman. His loss will be keenly felt by all who knew him.
I was delighted to receive your letter a few days ago, though by the date, the delivery was quite delayed. I am certain Miss Geddes will be happy to paint your portrait. I have dispatched a letter to her in Salisbury to ascertain whether she can travel to Worthstone for the work, or whether she would prefer to paint in London when you are here next. Since she is still rather young, I am unsure of her father’s decision. I shall certainly be bursting to tell you as soon as I receive her next correspondence.
Please stay well, dear friend. Your last missive felt more melancholy than I would expect for one with your lively disposition. I am sure you grieve for your friends, yet such gloom is unlike you. Perhaps one of the Bard’s comedies might lift your spirits?
Yours,
Lady Laura Vranes
Elizabeth sighed and folded the letter. She would need to pay better heed on her next correspondence to Laura. While she adored the countess’s open nature, which was so unlike most of the ton, she had no wish for her friend to suspect anything amiss. She could certainly never explain the true reason for her melancholy, which extended beyond Mr. Darcy’s death.
August 13th 1809
Longbourn
Hertfordshire
My dearest Lizzy,
I could not help but cry at the contents of your latest letter. Poor Mr. Darcy! He was too good to run into that burning house and save that child! Thank heavens he saved the dear boy, yet the price he paid was so severe. My heart simply breaks for Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy. I hope his son and daughter can find peace in that their father did indeed provide the family with an invaluable service. He was a tremendous blessing to them in their time of need.
As you requested, I have tasked Papa with penning you a letter. Do remember he has always been a dilatory correspondent, though two months without a letter is poor—even for him. He is well, though has hidden more than his wont in his library due to Mama’s overactive nerves.
Forgive me for such a short letter, but Mama has been beside herself with preparations for tonight’s assembly. The new occupant of Netherfield, a Mr. Price, is to bring his brother this evening. Mama was put out to discover Mr. Price married and has decided his brother must be a bachelor of good fortune and connections. Nothing has been said to indicate he is so, yet she has decreed it, so it must be. Wish me well. She is determined I shall be the most beautiful at the assembly. After all, he must be in want of a wife! I believe she has already called for her salts three times this morning.
Affectionately yours,
Jane
“Oh, Mama,” she said on an exhale.
“Trouble from home?”
She glanced up from folding her letter. Fitzwilliam stood a short distance away. This bench near the river had been her refuge since their arrival at Pemberley, and as she had nearly every day, she walked downstream until the footbridge where she crossed. The bench had such a lovely view of the river, the bridge, and the great house off in the distance. The sound of the water as it passed along its banks soothed her as little else did these days.
“No, Jane writes of the assembly. My mother’s dearest wish is for her daughters to be well-married, of course. A new gentleman arrived in the neighbourhood, and Mama was in a state, you see.”
One side of his lips curved. “So she is not unlike the matchmaking mamas of the ton?”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “I believe she is just as tenacious.” She shifted to one side of the seat. “Would you care to sit with me?”
He took the place beside her and angled to face her. He removed his hat and set it between them. “We have been so busy since your arrival.”
“We have. Georgiana fares better, I believe. She is with her governess this morning.”
“You have taken wonderful care of her. I cannot express my gratitude enough.”
She shook her head while she ran her finger along the edge of her letter. It was so difficult to hold his eye. “You need not thank me. She is a dear, sweet girl. I am happy to be her confidante.”
His eyebrows furrowed, and he cleared his throat. “That first day in the library. Would you tell me what you and Thomas meant? About your marriage?”
A lingering exhale trickled from her lips. She had known this would come, but though she had done nothing wrong, the conversation would not be a simple one. “’Tis not an easy tale.”
“I am at your leisure.”
She tucked her correspondence in her reticule. “I suppose I should start with how I met your cousin, for I do not know how to explain it any other way.”
At the dip of Fitzwilliam’s chin, she took a deep breath. “I first met your cousin when he came to the great house at Stoke. He had travelled to Hertfordshire to assess the property and implement any cha
nges required to its upkeep. At my mother’s insistence, my father called on him, and he called on us in return.
“My mother was beside herself to have a duke in the neighbourhood, and not just a duke, but a bachelor at that. She pushed Jane to make herself agreeable, but much to Mama’s vexation, your cousin singled me out instead. He called several times during his stay, and we discussed books, plays, and even politics. After approximately a month, he requested to take a turn in the gardens with me. While we walked, he offered me his hand in marriage.”
Fitzwilliam’s eyes never left her, making her stomach flutter, and her knees quiver—despite the topic of their discourse.
“I told him I was honoured by his proposal, but I did not love him. He spoke to my father and departed for London.”
“You were forced by your father?”
“No,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “We discussed the duke’s offer—the settlement he intended to bestow upon not only me, but also upon my sisters. Papa, however, informed me he would stand by my decision. The problem was my mother discovered the duke’s proposal—quite by accident, you see. She heard me speaking of it with my sister Jane.”
His eyes closed, and he breathed out evenly.
“After, I never had a moment’s peace. I went to my father and told him I would accept the duke’s offer, but only if my sisters could marry the men of their choosing. I did not want them forced by Mama.
“I thought it would be as any other marriage, yet on my wedding night, the duke came to my bedchamber, he kissed my cheek, he embraced me, and wished me goodnight.”
Fitzwilliam’s shoulders pulled back as his forehead crinkled. “You mean he did not . . .?”
“No, he did not. I did not understand that would be the constant of our marriage until our carriage ride to Pemberley in early July when I finally gathered enough courage to ask him. He merely explained he could not, which I did not understand.”
“But why take a wife?”
“Why indeed?” Elizabeth watched her fingers while she passed one thumbnail over the end of the other, making a sound. “He intended and still does intend for me to carry an heir.”
“But how if he cannot?” Fitzwilliam leaned toward her.
“He confessed that as well. He requested your father seduce me. Your father refused.”
Fitzwilliam shot from the bench and gave an incredulous bark before turning. “I am not surprised he refused, though I am astounded by Thomas’s audacity to make the request. What has he intended since my father would not accede to his wishes?”
“He has offered that I might take a lover, yet requested I be discreet and choose well. I am not to bed a footman or a stable boy.” She could not help the venom that crept into her tone. “I believe you to be his new object—if you were not before.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and stared at the grass beneath his feet. “Has that been your object? Have you intended to have me fall in love with you? Manipulate me to father your child?”
She should have been furious, but considering the betrayal he must feel at his cousin’s plan, she could not blame him for asking. “No. When I realised I was falling in love with you, I assumed I only risked my own heart by not distancing myself. I had no idea your feelings ran along the same vein until you kissed me in the library.” She relived those few moments of bliss at every free and solitary moment. How she wished they could be together, but how could she commit Fitzwilliam to a hopeless relationship? He would require his own heir one day. He deserved to have his own family. “I do want a child, but I shall not seduce you. I fear if we gave in, it would make our situation all the more hopeless.
“I know Thomas’s nephew is dissolute and owes a substantial fortune.”
“Yes, and creditors have extended him further funds as a result of his inheritance. Your uncle intends to leave the bulk of his estate to you. The only part which will pass to James is those properties associated with the dukedom and the title. Your cousin refuses to see what he has worked so hard to build and maintain lost at the gaming tables.”
His arms swung forward and clapped in front of him while he began to pace. “How did I not see this in Thomas? He has always been like a close uncle.”
“I believe your father was one of the few who knew my husband’s secrets.”
Fitzwilliam halted mid-stride and pivoted to face her. “Please do not call him your husband. Call him Thomas or the duke, though I do not understand why you would show him such deference. He has done little to earn your respect.”
“He is in a difficult situation few would understand.”
“Do you?” he asked, his voice raised.
“No, but his preferred lifestyle would bring him ridicule, scorn, not to mention death. He has done well to hide it from society for as long as he has.”
“My God,” he said on an exhale. “You cannot be in earnest.”
“Without knocking, I entered his room when Georgiana and I caught Wickham stealing. I witnessed him and his valet in an embrace. He has confirmed it. I ensured Georgiana and Wickham did not see.”
He ran his hand along his mouth. “You can never tell anyone but me of this knowledge. Do you understand?”
“I have only told you. I am only revealing the full truth to you. I also believe your father would desire you to know. He would not want you to underestimate Thomas or his scheming.”
“My father mentioned Thomas and you before he died. If you had not told me of my cousin’s machinations, I would have thought my father meant something drastically different.”
She lifted her head and squinted into the sun to see him. “What did your father say?”
“To ‘take care.’ Then he said your name and Thomas’s name.”
Elizabeth stood and walked to the bank of the river. “He was pleased to find you in my arms the day of our arrival.”
He pulled a leather box from his coat pocket and held it before him. “Thomas mentioned your birthday was a few days ago. Georgiana should have at least had a special dinner for you on the day, but she has planned one for this evening. I wished to give you this now.”
She stared at the box with her heart screaming to snatch it like a gooseberry tart—her favourite. “I should not.”
“I asked Thomas. He does not mind.”
With hesitant fingers, she took the gift, which if she had to judge by the case, was jewellery. She unfastened the latch and lifted the lid, gasping at the flat cut, deep red stone surrounded by pearls and accented on the outer row by smaller deep red stones.
“’Tis beautiful. They are garnets, are they not?”
“Yes, I noticed it this summer while shopping for Georgiana’s birthday. I cannot explain why I purchased it for you then. I knew I could not give it to you, but I thought of you. You have such beautiful skin. I believed the colour would be striking against your throat.”
When she lifted the pendant, it hung on a simple gold chain, simple enough that she could wear it for every day if she wished. She arranged the chain back in the box and placed it on the bench while she unfastened her own necklace. They could not be together, but she could wear his gift—she would wear his gift.
She pulled the new necklace and went to clasp it around her neck.
“Allow me to help you.” His warm fingers were a shock as they brushed the sensitive skin on the back of her neck, peppering little pebbles of gooseflesh down her spine. What she would not give to feel his lips caress her shoulder—but she would never ask it of him. They tread on shaky ground as it was.
“Thank you,” she said, blinking rapidly as she turned to face him. “I adore it. I shall wear it every day.”
His hands gripped and released. “I am glad.” He looked into the trees before his eyes met hers again. “You have not ridden since your return.”
“Georgiana has not felt equal to riding. Even if you were not busy, I thought our rides may no longer be a good idea.”
He stepped closer and trailed a finger along t
he top of her hand. “I have missed our outings. While we should not, would you ride with me on the morrow? I may not be able to court you as I would like, but I would be loath to lose our one guilty pleasure.”
“Yes, I shall ride with you.”
“Sir!”
Fitzwilliam stepped back quickly and slipped his arms behind his back. “Yes?”
The footman slowed from his run as he approached. “Sir, Lady Catherine de Bourgh has arrived. She has ordered Miss Darcy’s trunks packed and loaded atop her carriage. As I left, His Grace had intervened, but Mrs. Reynolds insisted you be notified.”
“Thank you, James.” He glanced back at Elizabeth and held out his arm. “We should return quickly. I hope Georgiana remains with her governess in her sitting room, but if she does not, then she will be overwrought. My aunt has a way of discomposing my sister in the worst possible way.”
Elizabeth hurried, needing to take two to three steps to equal his one long stride so they would arrive at the house before Lady Catherine did too much damage. When they entered the hall, a woman bedecked in a gown dripping in lace that would make Elizabeth’s mother envious stood imperiously tall before the duke, one arm outstretched and the other with her cane pressed firmly to the ground. “You have no authority over Georgiana! I demand you produce her immediately!”
“I, however, do have authority over my sister.” Fitzwilliam’s voice filled the large room, and his tone brooked no argument, though from what Elizabeth had heard of Lady Catherine, the woman would still make the attempt.
“Fitzwilliam! I am not accustomed to waiting, yet I have been here nigh on a half hour before you greet me. Shameful!” She sniffed and placed her free hand atop her cane so both rested upon the silver handle. “I have come for your sister. She will require a woman’s guidance and a lady’s example, which she will find at Rosings with myself and Anne.”
“She requires her brother at this time,” said her husband through his teeth.
Fitzwilliam stepped forward so he was slightly in front of the duke. “If Georgiana has need of a lady’s example, she has the Duchess of Leeds nearby. She has no need to live at Rosings.”
Undoing Page 15