Darcy's Quest

by Marianne Lewis

  An acceptable wife. The words flashed like a lightning bolt through his brain. Acceptable she was not! He wondered if his wits had gone that he hadn't immediately pronounced an end to their betrothal. If only it was as simple as that, he thought with a wry twist of his lips. He shook his head with resignation. Padding down the scullery stairs, he tapped on the door.

  "Good very early morning to you, Darcy."

  Darcy removed his gaze from the study of his boots, and assessed his host. “I should like to request a favor of you. I would take it most kindly if you will give a certain George Wickham his marching orders."

  Colonel Forester always seemed to find the perfect moment to spill his information, while he, Darcy, never managed that feat. It was left to him to blurt his desires in a way which could never be called sly. But Colonel Forester's words only strengthened his resolve. Anyone could see that Miss Bennet was innocent, and he didn't want that scoundrel leading her astray.

  "Wickham! Has he been hanging about the skirts of the fair damsel I hear you're taken with? A rather handsome rapscallion, is he not? Well, I must say I'm inordinately pleased you're already acquainted with him—he is our new cohort."

  Colonel Forester chuckled into the sudden, tense silence. "I never thought to see you put out of countenance, Darcy."

  Darcy clamped shut his jaw, his black brows snapping together. "He's not the man for the job. Why, he's—" What was he to say? How could he confess he knew the man possessed no talent for stealth without giving Elizabeth away? "Out of grave concern for my cousin's safety, I agreed to offer my assistance on this mission as needed. I never agreed to a partner. I shouldn't think Wickham's conduct and reputation for recklessness would indicate him as the man for this position."

  "His sort of daring is just what we need."

  "You truly think he's capable?" asked Darcy through clenched teeth, trying to subdue his own personal enmity. He wanted to slam his fist down onto the arm of his chair, proclaiming in no uncertain terms that he refused to work with the wretch. But Colonel Forester would want to know why, and even if he should admit to having taken a decided dislike to the man, it wouldn't wash.

  "I do. Wickham happens to be my aforementioned informant, and our only hope at finding our missing Colonel Fitzwilliam. I fear your cousin may have been kidnapped, or god-forbid, a worse fate has come to him."

  "Is Wickham aware of his new duties?"

  "Not as yet. I'll speak with him later this morning. He'll be instructed to forgo shaving, keep growing his hair and to meet you at Pemberley. I can give him your direction, so you needn't worry about anything but meeting him at your door."

  "So kind," murmured Darcy, rising to his feet. "I bid you good day, Colonel Forester."

  "Oh, and Darcy, all things considered, do you really think it is the time to take a wife? Have you thought that it might be dangerous for her?"

  One black brow rose at this challenge to his integrity. "I've given the matter careful consideration, and shall take every care to assure myself of her safety. I wouldn't marry if I feared she'd suffer." And she wouldn't suffer, not if he was killed; at least, he would hardly leave her heartbroken. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I haven't any choice but to take a wife. Should I die without issue, I will leave Pemberley to ruin."

  Minutes later, Darcy strode through the night, sucking cool air into his lungs. So, he was to play host to a man he would as soon throttle. No doubt Wickham had deduced why Darcy was taking Elizabeth to wife, and like Colonel Forester, thought Darcy was placing her life in jeopardy.

  Well, Wickham couldn't offer her anything better. Indeed, his life would soon be placed in the gravest of danger. Supposing, that was, Darcy should decide to release her from their engagement. But, all things considered, he didn't think that the wisest course of action. Besides, he thought, finally acknowledging the irrational, illogical little idea which kept niggling at him...he didn't want to let her go.

  Chapter Four

  The late afternoon hour when Mr. Darcy would arrive to take her driving, wore hard on Elizabeth's nerves. Concern for her immediate future had made for a restless night and an equally agitated day, and now, as she dressed for the drive, she knew a certain relief in that her fate would soon be announced.

  Her confidence was shaken, so she dressed with care, choosing a fetching white muslin gown, with tiny red roses embroidered about the bodice and hem.

  She stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Should Darcy refuse to take her to wife, it might set her free to marry Wickham, but at too great a price. Troubled eyes mocked her from the glass, and she frowned, arranging a dark curl to grace the column of her throat.

  Only today did she realize just what she had jeopardized in order to meet Wickham: the financial security of her family. Breakfast this morning had been intolerable, as she had witnessed her parents' glee. She hardly knew how she'd face them should Darcy's decision be unfavorable.

  She frowned again, knowing she could do nothing more to improve her appearance. The spark had fled her eyes and there was precious little she could do to make it return.

  A brief knock sounded on her door, and Jane entered their room. She barely waited until the door latched shut before launching into a scornful, "I am now assured that Mr. Wickham is indeed a rake, a lech—a blackguard of the first degree!"

  Elizabeth sat rooted in open-mouthed astonishment.

  "You will never guess!" Jane spat out. "I saw him with some female of questionable morals. He is the lowest, the most despicable—"

  It couldn't be true! Wickham would never! Her face a frozen mask, Elizabeth drew upon all her dignity to muster a faltering, "I'm sure you must be mistaken, Jane."

  "I am not mistaken. It was Wickham, as sure as I'm standing here. He has used you in the most fiendish manner."

  Elizabeth turned again to the mirror, making a pretext of adjusting the ribbon in her hair. She forced herself to subdue a rapid pulse and breathe normally. Jane had seen Wickham, with another woman no less, and spoken with him? She sighed, lacking the heart to argue and the inclination to pursue the details. She summoned a smile. "Well, since Wickham is nothing to me, I can't see what the fuss is about."

  Jane looked momentarily deflated, if a slackened lower lip was any indication of her feelings. Recovering her poise, she said coolly, "Mr. Darcy must be a tolerant and generous man. I wonder he didn't box Wickham's ears himself when he caught you with him!"

  Elizabeth whirled from the mirror. Speechless, she clutched the folds of her gown to steady her trembling hands.

  Jane sniffed, spreading her fingers in an apologetic gesture. "I was going to follow you, but when I saw Darcy trailing you, well, I reasoned my presence wasn't needed. And it's a good thing I waited, Lizzy, because Mrs. Hill locked the door not a minute after I sneaked back inside!"

  Elizabeth sank down on her bed, a hand automatically reaching for her parasol to give it occupation. She expelled a long, pent-up breath. "Then I am beholden to you, my dear Jane. Thank you." Casting her sister an agonized glance, she whispered, "Mr. Darcy isn't sure he wants to marry me now."

  "Oh no," whispered Jane, plopping onto a nearby chair. "I never thought... It didn't once cross my mind to intercept him."

  "It's not your fault. I should never have gone. But I did, and now I am awaiting his decision." She shrugged. "Perhaps he will accept me still, and I needn't breathe a word of this to Mama and Papa. It is all I can hope for."

  * * *

  The clatter of horses' hooves sounded on the cobblestones below, and Elizabeth gave a startled jump. The parasol slid from her nerveless fingers. She and Jane raced as one to the window, watching Darcy alight from his phaeton and toss the reins. He strode purposefully to the gate, lifted the latch and clanked it into place behind him with a decisive flick of his wrist.

  The somber hue of his attire emphasized his grim and forbidding air. Elizabeth exchanged a glance with her sister, fearing her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Jane patted her arm in sympathy and con
cern. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and retrieved her parasol, marching to the door.

  The distance to the park was covered in silence, silence which Elizabeth, sitting primly with her parasol unfurled, passed by observing Darcy and his trappings of wealth. She noted the lightness with which his slender, gloved fingers handled the reins. His team of matched grays were beautifully trained, responding to his slightest command. They were also some of the finest horseflesh Elizabeth had ever seen. Expense and breeding were evident from the fine pointed tips of their ears to the plumed tails swishing against their hocks. The phaeton, too, stated affluence in a quiet, unpretentious manner. It was shiny black, adorned with delicate tracings of silver.

  Her eyes moved to his person. Black Hessian boots gave way to muscled thighs encased in doeskin. His bottle-green coat could have come only from the finest garment-maker. Excellent tailoring and elegant simplicity were apparent in every stitch.

  Elizabeth recalled the shopping done for herself, for a ballgown of the cheapest order. Her mother had sifted through materials for the best bargains, counting every farthing spent. The dressmaker, though acceptable, wasn't in the least fashionable. Elizabeth had relied upon her own deft fingers to add those fripperies necessary for her modish gowns. She recognized all of a sudden that she hadn't a clue as to the extent of Darcy's wealth, and wondered just as swiftly if she would be sharing it. His silence was becoming unnerving.

  "I trust a wedding date set for ten days hence will be acceptable to you?"

  His calm tones made her straighten with a jerk. Ten days! Merciful heavens! Her stomach constricted in a tight knot. Her lashes flew up, and for a moment, she indulged in the unladylike act of staring. His cool gaze slid slowly over her face then flicked forward again as he maneuvered his team through the gates of the park. His finely molded lips quirked into what she construed as a smug smile; no doubt he was satisfied at having put her wits all about! Anger flared with a swift burst of energy. Of all the arrogant—!

  Oh, yes, your high and mightiness! she wanted to snap, but the sudden thought that she should feel grateful for his generosity stayed on her tongue. She drew a deep breath, seeking to quell her temper. "Your magnanimity has been duly noted, sir," she said, unable to squelch the rancor in her tone. "I'm sure it would be unforgivable of me if I didn't fall sweetly into your plans."

  A snapping of twin black brows rewarded her. His blazing eyes sought to lock with hers, and though she quivered inside, she refused to flinch. Slowly, a grin quirked his lips.

  "It's gratifying to know I've chosen so biddable a bride."

  His sarcasm wasn't lost on her, but Elizabeth found she had no suitable rejoinder. Though he laughed at her, that one lift of his sensual lip made her heart lurch, and it took her a moment to catch her breath.

  She didn't care to analyze why a simple grin should affect her so, concluding simply that she had rarely seen him smile. Acknowledging his remark with a stately dip of her head, Elizabeth looked away, only to have her calm facade shattered by the sight of George Wickham.

  He looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept well. A trace of beard shadowed his face. Elizabeth hoped he wasn't pining for her; she'd feel awful if he were. He rode toward them on his big bay gelding. Her heart hammered, and she knew a twinge of pride for the courage he must require to face Darcy. Wickham acknowledged her with a low bow from the saddle. Her lips lifted tentatively in return.

  "I trust the day finds you well, Miss Bennet?" he inquired, after the briefest of nods towards Darcy.

  "Very well, I thank you. And you?" She was dismayed to hear the tremble in her voice. Her breath was behaving in the most erratic fashion.

  He nodded an affirmation. "Indeed. I've received my marching orders. I shall be out of Meryton for some time." His gaze slid to Darcy, and back to her. "I owe you an apology, Miss Bennet. And you, Darcy. I beg forgiveness of you both."

  Elizabeth was quick to voice hers, though Darcy merely gave an abrupt nod. Her attention returned to Wickham. "I wish you good luck," she said softly, a hint of concern in her voice.

  "Thank you. I wish you the same." His gaze locked with hers for one brief second, then snapped to Darcy's. They exchanged a glare. Wickham lifted his hand in a final salute and clicked the bay forward, cantering away with Elizabeth's heart and her last hope of a happy future.

  She peeked at Darcy, seeking his reaction at meeting Wickham after the contretemps of last night. His face was an inscrutable mask. He swiveled a glance at her beneath his lashes and she looked away, receiving the impression that he wasn't at all troubled.

  A flick of his wrists urged the horses forward again through the press of carriages and horsemen. Many of the local gentry was out in force to see and be seen. Elizabeth recalled Darcy's words of the previous evening. . . something about privacy? The remark was laughable.

  She glanced about, intercepting the envious frowns bestowed upon her by a sniffing matron and her daughter. She might as well become used to such looks, for Society would soon know of their betrothal. The announcement, her mother had informed her at breakfast, would be in the morning's newspaper.

  A little shiver sliced through her. This morning that possibility had seemed unlikely. Now the reality of it came near to cracking her composure. She gazed at Darcy, noting his lean, supple face, the strong jaw, and lashes that looked longer in profile. Ten days would see her wed to this man. The thought was unnerving.

  His gaze flickered towards her, and hers shied away. She was painfully aware she'd been staring again.

  "Miss Bennet," he said, a hint of mirth coloring his tones, "I assure you, I take no umbrage in your accustoming yourself to my countenance. I do believe the more familiar I become to you, the less frightening you will find me."

  “I'm not frightened of you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth stated, her fingers curling round the stem of her parasol. She noted the glance he bestowed on the action, and realized she clutched it as if it were a lifeline. With a small sigh, she relaxed her grip.

  "I find that information gratifying," he returned, a dry smile playing across his lips. "And I'll be more satisfied when you cease the formalities, and call me William. I daresay my sister will be shocked if she finds we're not yet on a first-name basis.”

  “Your sister?" Elizabeth squeaked, her heart tripping faster at the thought of meeting Darcy's family.

  "Yes, my sister Georgiana. She's quite eager to meet you. She has recently arrived at Netherfield Park. I suggest we go so I may perform the introductions. I dislike having to rush you, but we have much to do in a very short time. I shall be leaving Hertfordshire this evening."

  "You're leaving this evening, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth echoed, stunned. "Why so?"

  He hesitated, his lashes descending, guarding his expression. "I must put my estate in order to receive my bride, of course."

  She frowned, unable to imagine Darcy letting anything get out of order. He was hiding something, she made sure. A thought struck her. She tried to dislodge the sinking feeling that he'd taken an aversion to her, but the idea wouldn't be banished. "Of course. And when do you hope to return, Mr. Darcy?"

  "It's William, remember? And I doubt I'll return until the evening before we marry."

  "And am I to arrange all the details of this wedding by post...William?" she questioned, suddenly peevish. Her intended would not be dancing attendance on her, and the wedding was but ten days off! Surely she had the right to expect some of his attention!

  His enigmatic eyes slid over her. "The details of the wedding need not concern you overmuch. I've given my sister precise instructions, and she's delighted to be of help in this matter. I rather thought all the haste would try your nerves, so I've asked her to alleviate every burden she may. Of course, there will be your trousseau to choose, and several other matters which only you can decide."

  Resentment flooded Elizabeth. How she despised him! It wasn't enough that he had waltzed into her life, upsetting her every dream for the future. Then, he must have the audacity
to catch her in a midnight tryst with the man she loved, the arrogance to be angry just because she was betrothed to him, and the presumption to arrange the details of her wedding without consulting her.

  Conscience smote her. He had kept her actions from her parents' ears. He had behaved the gentleman. He hadn't released her from the engagement, nor allowed her reputation to be ruined. She should feel thankful, even relieved, but she couldn't like the way he was ordering her life.

  "I must remember to thank her for her generosity. It's most kind of her to offer her help," she said demurely. Georgiana Darcy. She didn't relish the prospect of meeting her. The young lady must be an unpleasant creature indeed, to have such a brother.

  A brief smile lifted his lips. "I doubt her intentions are anything but kind, for she'd move heaven and earth to see me standing at the altar." He chuckled, a low sound coming from deep in his throat, pleasing to her ears. "I'm sure you'll like her, and she is kind, don't mistake me, but I would be more inclined to describe her as flighty."

  The affectionate cast of his features banished the hint of haughtiness. So the man had a heart, after all. Would she ever penetrate his barriers and touch it? Remembering his opinions on affection, Elizabeth doubted it was possible. She also doubted she'd want to.

  “You're strangely quiet, Miss Bennet," he remarked, maneuvering his team neatly through the park gates.

  Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip, searching for words. "Mr. Darcy, I wasn't sure we'd be wed until some few minutes ago. Now you inform me the date is set for ten days hence, that you will be leaving Hertfordshire, and that your sister will be the one I need apply to. I didn't know you had a sister, and I don't even know where your estate is located."

  She blew a frustrated puff of air through her teeth. "Forgive my complaints, but shouldn't I have a clue as to what my future holds? I cannot understand all this haste, why you're so eager to be wed and to cart me off to God knows where. I'm sure I wouldn't take it amiss if you could find it in your heart to enlighten me."