Darcy's Quest

by Marianne Lewis

  Wickham's expression of bland amusement irked Darcy. No matter how glad he was to see the man, he rather thought he'd like to wipe the smirk from the blackguard's face. "You might say I've had some unwelcome visitors."

  He quickly explained his night in the taproom and the subsequent shooting. "I've no choice but to confine both Elizabeth and myself to the premises. It won't be long before they try again, and I'm not entirely certain I can lie to Elizabeth forever. However, there is a positive side to this. While they're engaged with me, you're free to get about finding Colonel Fitzwilliam. Any news in that area?"

  "I suspect I'm getting closer. I've returned to inform you they killed the innkeeper. But before he died, he gave me brief descriptions of the men, so I thought I'd relay them to you, and perhaps you could let Colonel Forster start matching them to names."

  Darcy nodded. "Good. If they agree with my descriptions, perhaps it'll help Colonel Forster in his search. They're getting far too close for comfort. I don't like it."

  "Nor do I. It's a tricky business, skulking about, never being sure you're asking questions of a safe person. I'm getting mightily sick of it all, Darcy. Do you know this is the first real meal I've taken in several days? I don't normally complain, but dash it, man, I've spent some damn hungry nights!"

  Darcy had the grace to feel compassion. "I know. Can't be helped, I'm afraid. But you think you're getting closer?"

  "I've had my eye on an old washerwoman for days. I think she might have some information. If she becomes used to me she may let me talk to her. I wouldn't have come back, but I really thought you ought to have those descriptions." He gave what information he had of the two men, describing them in close enough detail to satisfy Darcy.

  "I'd bet they're my taproom pair. You're doing well, Wickham. Keep up the good work. With any luck, we'll have some men in irons before the month is out. I suggest you sleep all day and return tonight, unless, that is, you feel you need a greater rest?"

  "Kind of you to be concerned, but no. Just ask Cook to make me a large package of good food."

  "It shall be done." Darcy wasn't only satisfied, but excited by Wickham's information—so much so that he offered his hand without compunction. Wickham eyed him for a moment, and took it. A wry smile curved Darcy's lips. "Amazing what a common goal can do between enemies, eh, Wickham?"

  "I daresay, Darcy."

  Darcy inclined his head, and quit the room. He made directly for his study, there to pen a letter to Colonel Forster. Sealing it with wax, he began another: an invitation to Miss Jane Bennet, asking her to accept the hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley. And would she be pleased to return in the coach with the men and maid he sent with this missive?

  His next order of business was to gather a retinue of menservants, and a maid as chaperon—in case the Bennets couldn't spare one—and send them on their way to Hertfordshire. With Providence, Jane would arrive on by next week, and keep his wife so busy that she would not have the time or the inclination to concern herself with his goings-on.

  * * *

  It wasn't Jane that arrived at Pemberley one week later. In her place, Lydia Bennet arrived ensconced in Darcy's coach. She tumbled from the carriage with a footman's help, rushed up the stairs and into her sister's arms.

  "Lizzy, dearest! It's so good to see you! I vow I've been nearly distracted now that you've gone. And did you see the procession which delivered me here? The townsfolk were agog at the entourage sent to escort me to see my sister, Mistress of Pemberley!" She laughed and hugged Elizabeth fiercely.

  "Lydia!" Elizabeth laughed, squeezing her sister. "But how comes it that you're here? I knew nothing of this! I just happened to see the coach coming, and was curious as to who it might be!''

  Lydia laughed. "Your husband didn't tell you he invited Jane to visit? I make no doubt he wanted to surprise you! Wasn't that sweet of him? He's the most thoughtful of men, Lizzy. Why, he even sent one of your maids along for chaperon. Mama rather thought Darcy might have some rich and eligible gentlemen visiting, and that perhaps Darcy was desirous of matchmaking. Isn't Mama silly?" She giggled, linking her arm with Elizabeth's.

  “Jane was supposed to come?”

  “Yes, but she has taken a fever at Netherfield Park. Oh, don't look so alarmed, Lizzy. She is on the mend now. You see, it was all part of Mama's plan to bring Jane and Mr. Bingley together,” Lydia responded quickly with more giggles.

  “Together?” Elizabeth questioned.

  “Yes! Mr. Bingley is to propose marriage any day if he hasn't already!”

  “That is wonderful news! How are Mama and the others?" Elizabeth asked, wondering at this kindness of Darcy's. Had he wanted to please her? She tightened her grip on Lydia's arm, leading her into the house.

  "We're all very well, and all send you their best." Lydia fished in her reticule, bringing forth a letter. "This is from Mama. She apologizes for not writing sooner."

  Elizabeth accepted the missive, smiling at her mother's untidy scrawl. She tucked the treat into the pocket of her frock, intending to read it later. "I'm sorry to say we have no rich and eligible gentlemen in residence, but I do miss you all dreadfully."

  "I didn't think for a moment that you did, and we've missed you, too. Why, I've been so bored, I've been reading those horrible romances which Kitty is so fond of. I vow those are the silliest stories! Why, one heroine is tapping at all the walls, searching for a secret tunnel, which, when she finds it, will put her life in the gravest danger! Now tell me, do you think that is sensible? And Kitty will not hear a word of disparagement against them. What a lovely home! Do tell me you're happy here, Lizzy, and I won't prose on about how much we miss you!"

  Elizabeth laughed. "Yes, Lydia, I daresay I'm very well. Darcy is kind, and as you say, is was quite thoughtful of him to send for you." She didn't say so, but she wondered at his action. Why, he must have sent for a sister shortly after she'd asked him all those questions!

  With dawning certainty, she realized she had asked him questions he did not want to answer. He was up to something...but what? A tunnel! Could that be how he got to and from the lake?

  "Are you well, Lizzy?" Lydia asked. "You've grown silent all of a sudden."

  "Yes, dear," was Elizabeth's preoccupied reply. She came to a swift decision. "I daresay you'll want to wash. I'll ring for tea. I have something of import I must discuss with you."

  Ten minutes later, Elizabeth poured tea in the yellow salon. Lydia, perched on her chair, waited with avid interest. Elizabeth had some doubts about confiding her suspicions to her young sister. Was it truly any of their business? But she was concerned, and the prospect of having a confidante proved too great a temptation. Besides, what if she were simply reading more into Darcy's behavior than was there?

  "I am waiting," said Lydia as Elizabeth took a dainty bite from a cucumber sandwich. "By the way, where is Mr. Darcy?"

  "He's closeted with his steward. He'll join us for dinner."

  "And so?"

  "Lydia, I vow he's up to something suspicious. The strangest things have been happening here." Elizabeth shook her head, a frown creasing her brow. Leaning forward, she confided her doubts, finding it difficult to withhold any scrap of information that struck her as odd.

  "Why would Darcy warn me away from being around the estate alone, and then constantly stalk it himself? I begin to think he's a spy! I also believe there's a secret passageway somewhere in this house, lest how could he get down there so unobtrusively?"

  "Lizzy, you haven't been reading those romances? Mr. Darcy a spy!"

  "He's up to something, and I want to find out what it is."

  "I would scarce credit this were it Kitty telling me. But I can't believe you are becoming as fanciful as her." Lydia frowned, considering her through narrowed eyes. "Yes, I daresay it would be fun to poke about, providing we do so discreetly. Where do you suppose this secret passageway is?"

  "In the library, perhaps. Or his chamber. We'll look tomorrow, when Darcy isn't about
."

  "Well, sister dear, you shan't find me poking about his chamber! So pray, don't even ask!" Lydia giggled. "Well, I rather think I shan't be bored, even if you haven't a handsome gentleman in residence!"

  * * *

  Elizabeth curled into a ball on the overstuffed chair in her chamber. Emily had gone, leaving her clad in another flimsy gown, quite as pretty, and equally as daring as the previous. Elizabeth no longer minded, thinking it unlikely that Darcy would come to her. She knew some uneasiness at her failure to perform her wifely duties, and again wondered why Darcy had left her so abruptly the other night.

  She sighed, and cracked the seal on her mother's missive. "My dearest daughter," she read with a smile. Snuggling deeper into the chair, she perused the contents of the letter with slow delight, savoring every word. Mrs. Bennet wrote how blessed they wore by the marriage settlement and Jane's upcoming nuptials."—why, Mr. Bennet looks ten years younger at being relieved of so great a burden!—" and how their lives were changing because of it.

  Mary continued on with her studies and playing the pianoforte, the girls had new frocks—before dinner, Lydia had remarked she wouldn't need to borrow a single gown from Elizabeth—and Mr. Bennet had magnanimously conceded to allowing the front salon to be redecorated. A detailed account of colors and patterns was presented, and Elizabeth became engrossed in the spirit of her mother's high expectations for their family.

  Lydia would be presented in London next year, and oh, how marvelous not to have a Season on a shoestring. There were even funds left to invest! And all because of the generosity of Mr. Darcy. Her mother prayed Elizabeth was happy in her new life, urged her to write and ended with a salutation to her new son, such a fine young man he was.

  Elizabeth refolded the letter and sat for a long time, tapping it against her chin. She could well imagine her father's lighthearted jubilation at his new good fortune, and conjured up his face with an easy smile upon his lips, the lines of strain erased from around his eyes. Her mother, no doubt she was the envy of her friends, and loving every moment of it, for having settled her daughter so well.

  As for Darcy, he'd kept his end of the agreement, and more. He'd treated her kindly, opened his coffers for her use and had given her over and above what she could ever need. And she had yet to give him the one thing he'd asked of her: his heir.

  She'd resented Darcy, and the fact that she'd had to marry him while loving Wickham. She'd clung to Wickham like a talisman, using her love for him as an excuse not to make a full commitment to her marriage.

  She frowned, contrite at her selfishness. Would it be so great a sacrifice, to surrender to Darcy's kisses, to the warm strength of his arms about her? How onerous could it be? She needn't deny she enjoyed every slight touch he gave her.

  She set aside the letter, gaining her feet in swift decision. The light folds of her nightgown swirling around her ankles gave her momentary pause, but she refused to permit her scanty attire to hinder her purpose. On legs quaking like jelly, she walked to the adjoining door, tapping a quick knock before her courage deserted her.

  Darcy's invitation to enter sounded surprised, and her resolve almost crumpled. He'd think her a coward, though, if she crept away, so quickly she opened the door, stepping inside. Closing the door softly, she sank back against it for support. Her heart beat with suffocating force, and she swallowed hard, realizing her mouth had gone dry.

  Darcy's gaze roamed over his wife. Her beauty nearly took his breath away. He sat paralyzed on his bed, the covers drawn to his waist, his book falling forgotten to his side. He hoped she hadn't come to get her gown fastened, or some other such trivial thing, because if he touched her, he knew he wouldn't, nay couldn't, stop. He tore his eyes from her heaving chest, asking softly, "Yes, Elizabeth?"

  "William," she said, and stopped. She buried her hands in the shimmering folds of her gown, her gaze falling to her bare toes, and lifting again to his. "I, well, that is..." Her voice faded away, and green eyes pleaded with him for support.

  Darcy frowned, concerned now that her difficulty was greater than merely the need for a maid. He reached for his robe, pulling it across his back and pushing his arms through the sleeves. "Elizabeth, I should hate to offend your sensibilities, so do look away for a moment."

  She blushed, and immediately dropped her gaze. He slid out of bed and straightened the garment, tying the sash at his hips. Noting her intense discomfort, he padded to her on bare feet, and lifted her hand. "Perhaps you would feel more comfortable talking in your room?"

  She gave a tiny nod. Darcy tried to encourage her with a reassuring smile before opening the door and ushering her back through. Guiding her to a chair, he saw her seated and drew another close for himself. Then he leaned forward, taking both her hands in his. "Now, what is the problem? You are not displeased that I sent for Jane and Lydia came in her place?"

  "Oh, no. No." Elizabeth dragged her gaze from where his robe parted to display his handsome chest. "I am most pleased to have Lydia. Thank you."

  Her tongue slid over dry lips, and she gulped in a deep breath. This was decidedly the most difficult task she'd ever undertaken. Her eyes lifted to his puzzled face. "She brought a letter from Mama."

  "Oh? Are they faring well? None have taken ill?"

  "Oh, no." She shook her head. "They are very well. Mama said they've been relieved of great financial burden, and Papa is looking near ten years younger." She bit her bottom lip and plunged ahead. "Darcy, you've fulfilled your part of the bargain. I only feel it right that I complete mine."

  His face registered utter astonishment, and Elizabeth rather suspected she'd actually disconcerted her composed, self-assured husband. A guarded expression crept across his features, suggesting a certain withdrawal. She remembered his comment about making love with a martyr, and feared that now she'd summoned her courage, he would refuse her. She couldn't let that happen, not after coming this far.

  "I want to," she said in her strongest voice, tilting her chin just a fraction higher.

  Darcy held her honest green gaze for several long moments. He wasn't sure he could believe his ears. Elizabeth coming to him willingly? No matter that it was only her sense of fairness which drove her on—would he be fool enough to reject her offering?

  His eyes lowered, caressing the line of her jaw, the creamy smoothness of her throat, the teasing fullness of her breasts peeking impudently from beneath her transparent gown. His breath quivered, and he knew his control had come to an end. It was much more than the need of an heir which prompted his slow nod of acceptance.

  He stood without a word, drawing her to her feet. His fingers glided through the silky mass of her hair to the back of her neck. Her face lifted, her lips tilted upwards. With a quiet groan, he claimed her mouth in a hot, searching kiss.

  Scooping her up in his arms, he deposited her gently on the bed. Her flimsy lingerie skidded down her shoulder, her arm. One creamy breast, dipped in rose, gained freedom from its silky confines. Darcy sought it with his mouth, and rather thought he was heaven bound.

  Elizabeth stretched her soft length along Darcy's longer, harder, and ever so warm flesh. If a kitten felt like this, coddled, sassy and fulfilled, she made sure she was a kitten. She pushed her hair away from her face, daring to kiss Darcy's collarbone, and then his neck.

  Darcy shivered, running a hand along her naked back. "Elizabeth, kiss me again."

  She smiled, knowing the utter freedom to touch another human in this warm, wonderful way. And she knew something else: her husband was made of passion and fire, and she loved it. She snuggled closer, lifting her head to gaze at him.

  He smiled. "Well?"

  A soft chuckle issued from her throat. "I only wonder," she murmured a trifle shyly, "why we waited so long."

  Darcy dragged a deep breath into his lungs. His lovemaking had pleased her! The knowledge heated him more than her silky, tender body. He remembered her eyes, clouded with desire, and her warm, welcoming softness. His heart pounded against his
ribs like the sea against the shore. He embraced her, caressing her satiny flesh with a hand which trembled. Rolling her over, he poised above her, gazing down on her. He smoothed his thumb over her lips, resting it at the corner of her mouth.

  "You're so beautiful, Elizabeth," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I've wanted to know you forever, and I assure you, it was well worth the wait."

  Removing his thumb, he kissed the corner of her mouth. His lips played over the lushness of hers, his tongue dipped and teased. At her soft purr of encouragement, he deepened the kiss. He doubted he'd ever get enough of his lovely bride.

  * * *

  The next morning Lydia sneezed over a dusty novel. "This is boring, Lizzy. I doubt there's such a thing as a secret passageway in this house. Really, I've let those horrid romances go to my head!"

  "Lydia," said Elizabeth. "I'm sure there's one somewhere in here!"

  "That's all well and fine, Lizzy," responded Lydia tartly, "but what if your husband finds us snooping in his library? How will we explain that away?"

  "I told you, he won't catch us," said Elizabeth, tapping at yet another panel. "He's helping train a young stallion, and I'm certain he'll be busy until lunch time, at least. Besides, we'll merely say we're searching for some books on the subject of...well, I don't know... something."

  Lydia pulled out a book, glancing at the title. "The Parliamentary History of England!"

  "Quick, Lydia, look!" Elizabeth pointed at a panel which was sliding open. "I told you so!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

  Lydia scampered across the room, peering into the dark cavern beyond. "Fancy that! We'll need a lantern."

  They found the lantern and returned to the room, touching the hidden latch again. The panel slid noiselessly aside, and they slipped through, trotting off down the passageway with giggles of excitement. They followed it to the lake, to the scullery, and back to Darcy's chamber. It was too fantastic to be true, thought Elizabeth. Darcy using a secret means of removing to and from the house? For what purpose? Did it have anything to do with his need for an heir? A cold clutch of fear gripped her, and she shook the feeling off, shuddering in spite of herself.