He swiped at the blood oozing down his chin with the back of his hand. "Let's go home, Tom. I'm charging you with Elizabeth's safety. I want you to keep a constant eye on her whenever she leaves the house. I make no doubt they'll be back."
* * *
"William," said Elizabeth the next morning at breakfast, "where did you get that cut on your lip?" The angry swelling of Darcy's bottom lip glared across the table. A vision of him standing on the lawn rose before her. Darcy lifted a bruised and swollen hand, gingerly touching the wound in question. "And your hand!" she exclaimed. "Have you been fighting?"
Darcy stared at her, looking peeved. "Yes," he said in clipped tones, "I have been fighting."
"But how?" Her brows drew together. "Where? Why?"
Darcy sighed. How could he explain his presence in a lowly tavern? That it wasn't safe for him to ride alone into Lambton, thus he had to take Tom, borrowing his groom's clothes because a man and his master shouldn't be seen drinking together? And because he wore his groom's clothes, he'd chosen a less desirable inn in which to go unrecognized. He coughed into his hand. "It's a long tale, Elizabeth. Suffice it to say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Green eyes raked his face, filling with suspicion. "I saw you on the lawn last night. Did you run against some poachers? William, you told me it was unsafe to go down there at night, so why did you? And how did you get back to your room?"
Darcy felt like an insect specimen pinned to paper. So much for a wife who kept to her own business. He studied her, his lips twitching, his tongue trying to form any of a hundred lies to appease her. "Elizabeth," he finally said, "I'd rather you didn't worry yourself about it. An unfortunate mishap, is all. Should you like to drive into Lambton today and acquaint yourself with the town?"
Her lashes dropped, her chin tilted and her lips tightened. "Very well. If that is what you wish. But perhaps I should try to disguise that angry lip before we go. I daresay it wouldn't do for you to appear in public looking as if he's participated in a brawl."
Darcy grimaced. She said the words sweetly enough, but he gained the impression she wasn't one whit pleased with his explanation and subsequent termination of the subject. "Very well, Mrs. Darcy," he replied. "I daresay you are correct."
A half hour later, he sat at Elizabeth's dressing table whilst she blended some strange concoction in a small dish. He eyed the mixture with disfavor, and she gave him a wicked grin.
"Do you fear you shall be poisoned?'' she asked. "Nothing but some healing herbs and dye mixed in a paste. I doubt it will kill you."
"I trust your skills," he hastily assured her. She'd lost her earlier tight-lipped look, and he didn't want to say anything to bring that disapproving expression back to her face.
Elizabeth smiled. "I don't think you do. Now tilt your head so I can apply it properly."
Darcy did as she bade, but still she placed a supporting finger under his chin. She dabbed her creation gently onto his lip, smoothing with light strokes. The action was tantalizingly sensual. He quite forgot the tenderness of his injury in the sudden desire to capture her finger between his teeth. Her mouth was close to his own, so very close he would have to but lean forward an inch to claim its softness.
Elizabeth saw his heavy-lidded appraisal of her mouth. His breath fanned her cheek, swirling a stray tendril. A shy awkwardness assailed her, and she straightened, saying with the slightest tremor, "There you are, all done."
Darcy groaned inwardly, swallowing his disappointment with an effort. Having Elizabeth so near, and being unable to touch her, to make his desire for her known, was more hell than heaven. Why had he chosen a wife whose good opinion mattered to him? And why should her good opinion matter?
He stood, slanting a cursory glance at his reflection in the mirror. He peered closer. "Very nice work, Elizabeth," he admired. "It's scarcely noticeable."
Elizabeth beamed shyly, obviously pleased at his compliment. She looked so sweet, so irresistible. Good opinions be damned, thought Darcy, and swept her into his arms for a quick, tight embrace. He touched a light kiss to the silky skin of her neck and set her away. " Thank you."
"Not at all," she murmured, her eyes alight with a soft glow. She fussed a moment with her gown and smoothed her palms down her skirt. "Are we ready to go, then?"
"Yes, I rather think we are." Darcy smiled, pulled on his gloves and offered his arm. Though obviously flustered, Elizabeth hadn't disliked his embrace, which encouraged him. Holding her against him engendered a very nice sensation.
Fifteen minutes later, they were on the road to Lambton in a black coach. Their designated coachman sat on the box, while Tom rode alongside with pistols tucked beneath his coat. Darcy glanced at a side pocket of the coach where his own weapon waited primed and ready.
He rather thought it fruitless to hope he might catch a glimpse of the two ruffians whilst in Lambton. However, if he did see them, he didn't know how he'd engage in exchanging shots with Elizabeth in tow. He sighed. He'd sent a letter to Colonel Forster at first light by private messenger, knowing that the man would not be pleased to learn the traitors had slipped through his fingers. It could take an army of men to have such luck again.
"I've instructed the coachman to drive about the town, to show you the sights, Elizabeth, and Tom has volunteered to ride alongside," Darcy said upon reaching the outskirts. "Afterwards, I thought we might take lunch—" at a reputable inn this time, he thought "—and then perhaps you'd like to visit the shops?"
Elizabeth nodded. "I'd like that, thank you."
Darcy smiled. Good. He leaned closer to the window, pointing out such attractions as might amuse Elizabeth, his gaze keen upon the participants in the scene. Elizabeth took enthusiastic delight in the view.
By the time they stopped for lunch, Darcy was thoroughly bored with his quest and even rather vexed. Damned frustrating, knowing that those who sought his life had escaped so prettily from his hands. But he could do nothing about it now, save fuss. Choosing to dismiss the issue, he instead set out to charm his lovely wife.
Elizabeth settled into the private parlor Darcy bespoke for lunch, untying the ribbons of her bonnet and placing it on a nearby settee. She found herself in charity with Darcy for suggesting this outing. Although he seemed in something of a brown study, he was, nevertheless, an informative guide. She now knew more of Lambton than she'd ever thought possible. However, his preoccupation concerned her, and she wondered if it had anything to do with his injuries from last evening.
"Thank you, William," she said after the covers of their meal were lifted. “I'm enjoying myself immensely. I hope it hasn't been too tedious for you, escorting me about the town?"
Darcy shook his head. "Not at all, Mrs. Darcy. Only an idiot would not enjoy your company." His lips tilted upwards. "And I'm not an idiot."
Elizabeth's heart palpated a bit faster and her breath caught in her throat. Was he flirting with her? The knowledge was heady. Still, she wouldn't be swayed from her course. Gently she pried, "But you seem a bit...burdened?"
He covered her hand with his. "Elizabeth, I confess I haven't been the most congenial company." He raised her hand, kissing her fingertips. "I apologize, and from this moment forth, will exert myself to be a charming companion."
Elizabeth smiled, but wasn't at all taken in by his pretty speech. Darcy did have something on his mind, something he was loath to share with her. She rather thought wild horses wouldn't drag his secret from him. She was curious beyond measure, but decided a dutiful wife would probably leave her husband to his own counsel.
He cradled her hand in his warm, larger one, and though the sensation was pleasant, and now not in the least alarming, she still needed that member to finish her meal. She withdrew it gently and lifted her fork. "You've been a most informative companion today, William. Still, I can't help but think something is troubling you. I collect that you don't care to share it with me, but I should like you to know I can be trusted."
"Thank you, Elizabeth. It'
s heartening to know I haven't married a rattle." Darcy held her gaze for several long moments. Yes, he was thankful he hadn't married a rattle, but oh, how much easier a rattle might have been to deal with. His dream of a wife who kept to her own business was rapidly crumbling. If Elizabeth continued with her questioning, he'd soon resort to being abrupt with her—hardly a good foundation for a blissful union either way.
Realizing she waited for something more from him, Darcy cleared his throat and sighed. "I wouldn't dream of spoiling your outing with my worries. Now tell me, is the meal to your liking?"
Elizabeth stared hard at him. Dropping her gaze, she nodded her satisfaction. Darcy shrank inwardly at the certain knowledge that he risked any tender emotions she might be learning in his regard.
Later, Elizabeth browsed through the goods displayed in the general mercantile, always entertained at viewing the new items on the market. She seldom purchased anything, and rarely found something she simply could not be without. Bolts of cloth on a table near the rear of the store caught her attention. Darcy viewed an assortment of hats, seemingly content to allow her to mosey at will, so she headed towards the material.
A fine silk, shot with a rainbow of colors caught her attention. She admired the material, running it between her fingers, but soon dismissed it as unsuitable for anything she might need. However, she found a durable fabric selling at a remarkably low price. Reasoning that surely several of Darcy's tenants could use such cloth for their childrens' winter comfort, she scooped up the bolt, intent on purchasing the lot. Georgiana had once remarked at the number of children Darcy's tenants had.
"Oh, ma'am!" the store owner stammered, fluttering over. "Do let me carry that for you! How much did you want?"
"I want it all," Elizabeth replied. Darcy glanced up from his perusal of the hats. "You don't mind, do you, William?" she asked. "The material is quite inexpensive, and I rather thought your tenants could use it "
He regarded her with a strange look in his eyes. "Of course I don't mind, but Elizabeth, I distinctly saw you admiring that other pretty material over there." He gestured to the silk. "Don't you want it?"
"Oh, it's very beautiful," Elizabeth responded, "but I'm sure I haven't the slightest use for it. Why, your sister helped commission enough gowns for my trousseau to keep me outfitted forever!"
Again he studied her, then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I think that color would look nice on you." He turned to the shopkeeper. "We'll take it, too."
The shopkeeper bowed in gratification, and moved to do his bidding. Elizabeth stared at Darcy, amazed. His kindness was disconcerting. The Darcy she'd thought she'd married—Mr. Iceberg Incarnate—was becoming the warm Darcy of Georgiana's description. Could his sister be right about him?
Elizabeth made sure she was more than a trifle spoiled by her new husband. A life of frugality hadn't prepared her for this free-handed spending. Some portion of her wanted to say she surely didn't need the material, but another voice reasoned it would be vulgar to argue. After all, it was Darcy's money, and he could spend it as he wished. She satisfied herself by giving him a sweet smile and a simple "Thank you."
* * *
The following days passed as quickly as a hawk diving for prey. Darcy took her to visit his tenants, showed her the farms, and spoke of his hopes for the future development of his lands. Elizabeth listened avidly, more to the deep timbre of love for his home she heard in his voice, than to the actual details of his plans.
Darcy, the perfect gentleman, was—yes—even charming as Georgiana had said. He hadn't once approached her on the subject of his heir, and though she was thankful for that consideration, still, it confused her. Had she offended him in some way? Or was he simply not tempted to come to her bed? She gave thought to how she might feel if he did come to her, and decided she'd best appreciate what freedom she had. True, he was more familiar to her, and not so frightening, but the idea of being that intimate with him was still a daunting prospect.
However, she did her best to be a good wife in other ways. She discovered Darcy's favorite meals and requested their preparation. She toured the house with Mrs. Reynolds, inspecting those areas Darcy had neglected to show her, such things as the linen closets and the scullery. Overused linen was borne away and utilized in less dignified ways, for cleaning rags and the like. Fresh lavender added to the closets scented the remainder.
All in all, Elizabeth found herself remarkably content. Only one thing plagued her. Several times she'd gone outdoors to tend to the herb garden or smell the roses. On every occasion, Tom the groom had dogged her steps. Oh, he'd attempted to make himself inconspicuous, and only came forth when she remarked his presence with a "Good day to you, Tom."
Still, she thought it rather odd that he'd spy on her, and the knowledge that he carried a pistol made her quite uneasy. She thought to quiz Darcy about this odd behavior, but couldn't like creating a problem at this early stage of her new role as wife.
Today she and Darcy were off to visit Nate, a tenant reported as not working for some days. Rather than showing anger at his tenant's slothfulness, he seemed concerned.
"It's not like Nate to shirk his responsibilities,” Darcy said as the carriage drove off.
Elizabeth had seen enough to know Darcy was indeed a worthy landowner. His farms were in excellent condition, and his tenants seemed to want for little. Darcy, she'd noticed, kept his eyes open for any sign of distress, offering help before they asked.
“I'm not sure I've met Nate and his family," she ventured.
"No. I rather thought all was in order with them on my last visit, which wasn't long ago. I admit to being rather concerned."
Elizabeth nodded. Now, though, her attention focused on Darcy. She wondered how many hundreds of tenants might desire him for their landlord. He was good to them, and more than that, he was kind. She'd seen in but a few days how these qualities were well respected by his people.
Sparing a glance across at him, she noted the dark locks tumbling in abandon, the dark eyes narrowed against the sunlight. He sent her an inquiring grin, and her gaze sidled away.
A sudden stab of sadness struck her at the thought that he hadn't found a wife who could love him. Surely he deserved such a woman. A tiny voice in her head challenged, You're his wife. Why can't you love him? She pushed the question aside, for after all, her heart was already given to Wickham.
A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of a neat farmhouse, which exuded an appealing orderliness, though the atmosphere definitely was hushed. No sooner did Darcy help her from the carriage than the door opened. A pleasingly plump woman came out of the house, wringing her hands on the apron tied about her waist. Five little children emerged behind her.
"Oh, Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed, obviously agitated. "Nate would've been to work, honestly he would've. He's a good man, that he is, and wouldn't no more cheat you than your blessed sister! I'm at sixes and sevens, and don't know what to do! He said as how he'd be going back to work but I doubt it, what with the fever coming on and all."
"Maggie," said Darcy, holding up a hand to halt her outpouring. "I know Nate would never cheat me, so do put yourself at rest." He drew Elizabeth forward, saying, "I should like you to meet my wife."
Maggie gave a flustered bob. "I'm that pleased to meet your Mrs. Darcy. I hope you don't take me for poor manners, as I did notice you immediately, so pretty you are. It's just that I'm that worried for my poor Nate."
"That's understandable," Elizabeth said graciously. "Your concern for your husband is laudable. Pray tell what ails him?"
Darcy started for the open door, ruffling the short red crops of the several children he was forced to dodge on his way.
Elizabeth followed, as Maggie's tale of woe resumed. "I say he broke his leg when he took that fall two days ago, but he won't have nothing of it. But he can't walk and now he has the fever, and he swore he'd be better in a few days, but I never did think so. He says he can't have broke his leg 'cause he needs to work to feed
the babes, and I'm telling him that's the greatest nonsense because if he broke his leg, he broke his leg and we'll survive somehow, though I don't see how that may be..."
Darcy ducked inside the door with Elizabeth and Maggie close behind. A man lay on a cot before the hearth, his eyes shut against his obvious pain. Darcy squatted beside him, saying, "Nate, my good fellow, I'll have a look at that leg, if you please."
"I've told her it ain't broke, sir," Nate ground out through clenched teeth. "I'll be right as rain in a day or so and be back to the fields—you'll see."
"That's as may be, Nate, but I still wish to see the leg." Darcy drew back the coverlet in spite of the man's protests, revealing the bruised and swollen ankle. He swore softly under his breath. "Nate, why wasn't I informed of this immediately?"
The man looked a bit abashed, peering past Darcy to Elizabeth. "I didn't want to bother you, what with you being newly wedded and all."
"That's no excuse, Nate. And do meet my wife, Elizabeth." He drew Elizabeth forward, and she acknowledged the introduction. "I trust," Darcy continued, "that in the future I'll be informed of all injuries post-haste—and that injunction includes the entirety of your family. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. I shall send for the doctor, and you're to obey his instructions explicitly. And do rest assured that you and your family will be taken care of." His features softened and he laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "Understand?"
Nate managed a weak smile. "Yes, sir. And thank you."
"Not at all." Darcy turned to Maggie, putting his arm round her shoulder and guiding her to the table. "I know of a hard-working youth who can help with the chores. Nate will be abed for some time, that much is clear. If you have any needs, you'll be sure to bring them to me, won't you?"
"Oh, yes. And thank you ever so much." Maggie wiped a tear from her eye and sighed gustily, as if she'd been relieved of a great burden.
"Now, Mrs. Darcy has purchased some warm fabric, which we'll send over later, along with a basket of goods. Do you lack for anything else?" Darcy inquired kindly.
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