“The Duchess of Leeds!” Her exclamation echoed off the walls and made a servant about to step through the entrance, hurry back from whence he came. “I have heard of that upstart your cousin wed, or I should call her a harlot! You would expose Georgiana to the worst sort imaginable!”
“You speak of my wife when you know naught of her.” The duke drew Elizabeth from behind Fitzwilliam, though she resisted. She had no desire to meet Lady Catherine, much less be brought to her notice. “Elizabeth’s intelligence and compassion do her credit. You would do well to learn from her example. After all, compassion and empathy have never been traits at which you excelled.”
The woman puffed up like a bird and spluttered. “I am celebrated for my compassion!” Elizabeth pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. She had to agree with her husband. The lady likely showed little empathy for anyone but herself.
Fitzwilliam crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you any other object in coming other than retrieving Georgiana?”
“I am certain you require my counsel now that your father is gone. Pemberley will require a strong hand. I can help you. We also need to finalise your betrothal to Anne.”
“I am not marrying Anne.” His words were calm and measured.
“You will!” She pounded her cane against the floor. “The two of you have been formed for each other. It was the dearest wish of your mother.”
“It was not her wish at all.” The duke laughed derisively and shook his head. “I thought you might attempt to manipulate Fitzwilliam with the memory of his mother. You forget, Lady Catherine, that I knew Anne Darcy. I know the wishes she held for his marriage. Your spoilt, selfish daughter was never a consideration. By the way, where is Anne? Have you left her in the carriage to overheat?”
Lady Catherine pursed her lips. “Where is Georgiana?” Her voice again boomed through the Great Hall. “She will be brought to me now—or have you dumped her in some godforsaken seminary?”
“My father stipulated Carlisle and myself as Georgiana’s guardians, Lady Catherine. You cannot remove her from Pemberley.” Fitzwilliam stepped forward so he towered over his aunt and stared her down. “If you do, I shall see you arrested for kidnapping.”
Spittle gurgled as she sucked air through her teeth. “How dare you! I shall speak to Carlisle. He will be made to see sense. Georgiana should be removed from such unsavoury influences. I assure you I shall carry my point!”
Elizabeth backed slowly away in the hopes of going unnoticed while she watched the exchange. When she could peer through the front door, two silhouettes could be discerned through the shadow from the huge coach just outside.
“I would not count on that,” said Fitzwilliam. “Lady Matlock and the duchess are friends. My aunt thinks very highly of Her Grace, and I know Carlisle is of the same opinion. I doubt your arguments shall persuade either of them to see the matter differently.”
His aunt sniffed and pulled back her shoulders. “Anne and I will require our usual rooms for the night.”
Fitzwilliam’s gaze flitted to the duke’s before he turned his attention back to Lady Catherine. Fitzwilliam held out an arm towards the door. “I shall be happy to direct your driver to the inn in Lambton. I hear it is comfortable, and you will be well taken care of.”
“An inn? I have a bedchamber here, and I intend to use it!”
When Elizabeth glanced up the stairs, a movement from behind a column drew her eye, and she started up the staircase, hoping her departure would go unnoticed and unmentioned.
“You forget, aunt. This is my home, and I will not have you upsetting Georgiana. This week has been more than she should have had to endure at so young an age. I will not subject her to your vitriol and ridiculous applications. You will render her overwrought. Until you can treat my family with the respect they are due and abide by my wishes, you will not be welcome at Pemberley.”
“I have never been treated thus! And in my sister’s home!” Another loud rap reverberated off the walls. Someone should take that ridiculous walking stick from her! “And where is that upstart going? She has not taken her leave of me!”
“As she did not request an introduction, she has no reason to speak to you,” said the duke.
At Thomas’s statement, Elizabeth glanced behind her. Lady Catherine had puffed up larger than Mr. Goulding’s prize rooster. “Request an introduction! I would be the one to notice her.”
The duke’s low laugh made Elizabeth’s insides clench. She had never heard it so cold.
“You forget, Lady Catherine, that Her Grace, the Duchess of Leeds, outranks you. Your husband was a baronet, was he not?”
Elizabeth had slowed when the woman mentioned her leaving, but now, continued to tiptoe up the stairs carefully, eyes still glued to the spectacle behind her. Lady Catherine faced the duke, gaping, her complexion the colour of puce. Elizabeth turned to the steps in front of her, hastened to the top, and grabbed Georgiana’s arm, dragging her down the corridor. “You should be in your rooms.”
“I heard my aunt. Will I be made to live at Rosings?” The poor girl shook from head to toe, and her eyes were about to burst from their sockets.
“No, your brother and your cousins will never allow it. There are too many peers of rank to challenge her claim—not that she carries any claim whatsoever. Your brother does not want you upset, nor does he want your aunt to see you. I would not put it past her to attempt to physically remove you. He can better protect you if you remain locked within your bedchamber.”
“You will notify me when she is gone?” Georgiana’s wide eyes tugged at Elizabeth’s heart. The dear was truly terrified of her aunt, who seemed a great deal of bluster and wind rather than actual action.
“Yes, of course. Have you completed your studies for the day?”
“Yes, we finished just before you found me.”
Elizabeth squeezed the girl’s hand. “Then read a book until one of us comes for you.”
The door clicked and the key turned in the lock after Elizabeth closed it behind her. The noise from the hall had diminished, yet she still peered around the corner before she continued down the stairs.
Voices came from outside, but instead of venturing to the portico, she shifted so she could see through the door. Two footmen stood on either side of Lady Catherine while she protested vehemently at being stuffed back into her coach. The duke held her walking stick. Had she finally attempted to bludgeon someone with it?
Once the coach pulled away, the men returned inside, Fitzwilliam striding with more purpose than her husband. “What occurred to make you leave?” His voice had not lost its hard edge from the encounter with his aunt, but Elizabeth ignored it. His tone was not aimed at her.
“Georgiana hid behind a column at the top of the stairs. I hastened her back to her rooms and bid her to engage the lock. She is petrified of her aunt and being made to live at Rosings.”
Fitzwilliam closed his eyes and scrubbed his face before lifting it to her. “I should speak to her. Thank you for your help.” He nodded to Elizabeth and shook the duke’s hand. “Both of you. I am uncertain if I could have dealt with my aunt on my own.”
“You could have,” said Elizabeth, holding his eye. “You care too much for your sister to allow Lady Catherine’s destructive influence in her life. Do not doubt your ability to protect her.”
He nodded once more. “Thank you.”
Her husband placed a hand to Fitzwilliam’s shoulder. “Do not thank us for something we are happy to do. Your father was a brother to me much as Carlisle is a brother to you. I would do anything to be of aid to his children.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue. He would be of aid to George Darcy’s children, yet it did not stop him from having his own intentions. He might not be pushing as Lady Catherine was, yet why did he not consider that his deceptions could be just as damaging?
Chapter 11
September 1st 1809
Worthstone
Derbyshire
Dearest Jane
,
Though we intended to remain at Pemberley until the end of the harvest, important business called Mr. Darcy to London. My husband accompanied him in the event his assistance was required while Georgiana returned to Worthstone with me. While we would have been content to remain at Pemberley, we preferred not to chance another encounter with Lady Catherine without my husband or Mr. Darcy present. I have no legal claim to Georgiana, and the poor dear would be overrun in Lady Catherine’s charge. The woman has the softness and tact of an elephant, like the one I saw at the Royal Menagerie.
I was pleased to receive your last letter, though I must shake my head at Mama. I am certain her nerves were in a right state after discovering the brother was married as well. A giggle unlike what I had not uttered in years escaped me upon reading your description of my mother’s antics, though I felt your embarrassment at her behaviour just as acutely. Unfortunately, I fear she will never be what we wish in that respect. We can only hope time and her daughters’ marriages might temper her enthusiasm for a single man of good fortune.
We have but a few short months until the duke and I return to London for the Season. I anticipate having you join us for the balls and dinners. A respite from Mama is surely what you require after these trying weeks, though we shall not participate much until the height of the Season because my husband wishes to have a longer mourning period out of deference for his cousin. If he did not have to return for Parliament in January, we would probably remain at Worthstone instead of partaking of the Season.
Please hug Papa for me. I shall write to Mama at my next opportunity and post the letters together, so she will not feel left out.
Yours most truly,
Lizzy
Elizabeth set down her pen and sanded the paper, peering out the window while she gave the sand a moment to work its magic.
A light rain fell and a lingering fog made for a dreary day, the resulting chill making it necessary to light fires to warm the house as well as ward off the damp in the air. The sombre chords of the pianoforte in the music room almost pounded through the nooks and crannies of the house, creating an even gloomier atmosphere. She had hoped to persuade Georgiana to play less mournful music but had no success in the endeavour thus far.
Fitzwilliam confessed before his departure that his father had arranged for Georgiana to attend school that autumn near London where she would enjoy the benefits of masters and friendships with other girls her own age. Mourning put a swift end to that endeavour. School would now wait for a year, though that did not upset Georgiana or Elizabeth too much. Instead, they both took great delight in the time they would have together.
She poured the sand from her letter, folded it, and sealed it. After she penned the direction, she set it to the corner of her escritoire before she gazed once more out of the window.
A shadow appeared in the distant fog, making her blink and look again. Two minutes later, a carriage emerged from the soup and continued steadily toward the house. The equipage resembled the one her husband and Fitzwilliam had taken to London. Could they have returned so soon? They were not expected for another week.
Elizabeth practically ran headlong into the housekeeper as she hurried from the room.
“You have seen the carriage, Your Grace?”
“I have, but do you think it the duke? Could he have returned so swiftly?”
“None would make calls in this weather, ma’am. I have ordered fires lit in his room as well as a guest room for Mr. Darcy. Bathwater is being warmed, and Mrs. Bunting has some fish as well as potatoes she has added to the menu for dinner.”
“Very good,” said Elizabeth clasping her hands in front of her. She had no reason to fret. Worthstone’s housekeeper was adept at running the large home on her own. She usually had all sorted before she met with Elizabeth every morning. In some instances, she appreciated the initiative more than in others.
“Is that a carriage?”
She whipped around to Georgiana, who poked her head through the door to the music room. “Yes, we believe your brother and cousin have returned early.”
A rare smile—these days anyway—burst across the girl’s face. “Fitzwilliam!”
The butler strode forward to the door, opening it as the carriage drew in front of the house. In a flurry of activity, the duke and Fitzwilliam entered, shedding greatcoats and hats as soon as they stepped across the threshold.
“Fitzwilliam!” Georgiana swept forward and embraced her brother while Elizabeth curtseyed to the men, clenching her hands to prevent herself from rushing into Fitzwilliam’s arms as well.
“I am glad to see you too, Sweetling.” He held his sister for a few moments, his eyes closed, obviously savouring the moment. “My business took less time than anticipated, and we hurried back to Derbyshire as swiftly as we could.”
His eyes met Elizabeth’s over Georgiana’s head and held until she coughed and diverted her attention to the duke. “Fires have been lit in your rooms and bathwater is being readied. I am certain both of you would care to warm yourselves after travelling on a day with such a chill in the air. Dinner is to be served in an hour.”
“Wonderful,” said her husband. “I am famished, but I shall wait until dinner. I am certain whatever you have planned with Mrs. Bunting is worth the wait.” Georgiana withdrew from her brother and embraced her cousin.
Elizabeth worked to smile while everything in her pulled her towards Fitzwilliam. Why was this so difficult? Why did she love a man she could not have? Why did her heart persist in this useless infatuation? “Pray refresh yourselves. It would not do for either of you to take ill.”
Fitzwilliam paused while he watched her for a moment, but she held a hand towards the stairs. “It is good to have you at Worthstone.”
He smiled softly. “’Tis good to be here.”
After one last tug to his topcoat, Fitzwilliam dismissed his valet and made his way to the library. The entire ride from London, he had anticipated seeing Elizabeth more than anything. Of course, he had looked forward to seeing his sister again, yet his heart had yearned for what he desired most.
He entered the library and locked the door behind him. Elizabeth stood at the window across the room, staring into the fog, which had grown thicker since his arrival. She no longer wore her day gown, but her complexion glowed in the pale grey gown that stood out in stark relief to the darkness outside.
With careful steps, he approached her from behind. “Lizzy,” he said in a low tone, making her whip around to face him.
“You startled me.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” His lips tugged upwards. His fingers inched forward eager to barely graze hers. “I have missed you so much.”
“I have longed for you as well,” she said on an exhale.
At her confession, he took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. “You wanted to embrace me much as Georgiana did when we arrived, did you not? You had this look in your eyes. It took all I had not to pull you into my arms.”
“I did. We must curb this, yet I do not know how.” Her fingers rubbed at the pendant around her neck—his pendant. Why did that make him want to hold her closer? He wanted to carry her away where he never had to share her with anyone, much less his cousin.
“I feel the same. I have no desire to stay away from you, yet ’tis what is right.” His free hand rested upon her cheek, his thumb caressing her temple. He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. “We are two lost souls—lost to each other.”
She bestowed a kiss to his palm. “We did well to stay away from each other at Pemberley.”
“Except for our rides,” he said. “This was much simpler when I thought you felt naught for me but friendship. I should never have kissed you. Told you how I felt.”
Tears welled along her lower eyelashes, making him physically hurt. He never wanted her to feel such sadness. He desired nothing more than to see her happy and smiling all of the time. “I could say the same, but I have not felt so alone since your confession. I kno
w it is selfish—”
He shook his head while his forehead remained touching hers. “No, I believe I understand, but my cousin was selfish in his marrying you.”
A pathetic smile crossed her lips. “If I had not married him, I would never have met you. We would have led quite disparate lives.”
He almost could not breathe at the idea of never knowing her. Since his father’s death, Elizabeth and his sister were the only people who made him feel. When he was not in their company, he was numb. The sensation was not one he enjoyed.
No matter how much his heart screamed to kiss her, he removed his hand from her face and stepped back, attempting to ignore the pain that stabbed him in the chest at the separation. “I should go before someone discovers the door is locked.”
“Fitzwilliam?” She stepped forward and held his one hand with both of hers.
“We should not. We need to try to ignore this, no matter how difficult. Do you not think?”
“I do, but I never fathomed how unbearable that would be until now. The longer I know you, the further I fall and the more desperate I become. ’Tis so strange. I lived for eighteen years without you, but I now cannot imagine my life without you, though I know I must.”
His eyes blinked furiously to eliminate the sting her words caused. She had the same thoughts and feelings he did; however, they should not—they could not. “I shall always be your friend. You will never truly be without me.”
He brought her hands to his lips before he tore himself away, slipping out after he had checked to ensure no one lingered in the corridor. He had been alone with Elizabeth before, but he had never locked the door. Instead, it had always been wide open. He did not want any questions or rumours filtering through her household staff.
After knocking on the door of Thomas’s study, his cousin bid him enter. “I must thank you again for accompanying me. I would never have completed the business with my father’s solicitor so swiftly without you.”
Thomas rose and pointed to the decanters of brandy and port on a nearby table. “Would you care for a glass?”
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