"Listened?" she asked. The image of the young and handsome Mr. Mumford pressing his ear to her eldest sister's ribcage entered her mind, giving her instant horror. Jane would have died of embarrassment.
"It was nothings so scandalous as you must now be imagining, I assure you. I have an instrument—here let me show you." He rifled through his black bag a moment and produced an odd looking apparatus comprised of reeds and tubes.
"It is a stethoscope. There is a man in France who is manufacturing them now. A most fascinating invention. But I am wandering away on a tangent again, back to Miss Bennet.
"As I said she is not afflicted with consumption. She is not wasting and her energy is not lacking, rather her sedentary state is a consequence of not being able to get her breath."
"What illness does she suffer from, if not consumption?"
"I believe she is highly sensitive to smog and other foul vapors. The poor air in London is inflaming her sinuses and lungs and causing her to be more susceptible to infection. In my opinion the illness she suffers from currently is no more than a particularly vicious cold, which is exacerbating her chronic asthma."
"So Jane should be removed from London immediately?" Lizzy asked.
"If at all possible, yes."
Lizzy had considered this option before. It had seemed logical to her that clean air would promote better health. However, she had not known how to go about securing new living quarters outside the city. When she had asked her aunt for assistance, Mrs. Gardiner had convinced her to stay in London citing the city's convenience, affordability, and proximity to herself as its main attractions; none of these points Lizzy could find argument against. Mr. Mumford's opinion had quite decided the matter, however.
"In the interim I have instructed Miss Bennet to keep away from the stove. I know the common wisdom is to place sick people as close to a heat source as possible, but the stove in your sisters' rooms is leaking fumes I fear will only cause her further harm." As he spoke his eyes flicked about the room. Lizzy could imagine what he must be thinking: why did she allow her sisters to live in a cramped apartment with a stove that smoked dreadfully while she lived in relative opulence?
Or did he know what her comfort had cost her?
This thought caused heat to flood her cheeks.
"Do you have any other questions?" Mr. Mumford asked, observing her stricken expression with concern.
She shook her head and thanked him for his time, hoping he would take his leave, but he remained seated.
"Inquiries about personal health concerns perhaps? Forgive my notice, but you are looking out of sorts."
There was a question she knew she should ask though she could not utter the words. Darcy had assured her a child could be prevented if, as he put it, "the seed was not sown," but Lizzy wondered why there would be any illegitimate children at all if they could be so easily prevented. Lizzy kept her silence on the topic, convincing herself it would be a better question for a midwife if she could work up the nerve to ask it.
"No, no. I'm quite well. I'm wonderful in fact. It is such a relief to know that Jane is not as ill as I feared."
She could tell that Mr. Mumford did not quite believe her but he stood and took his leave.
Chapter Nine
Mr. Darcy called that evening as promised. Lizzy's mood was black within five minutes of his arrival. She had greeted him at the door with every intention of being pleasant, but the anger she thought she had put well away that morning sprang out in disarray from its confines, revealing her poor emotional housekeeping.
Now with his hat in his hand and his coat over his arm he stood looking down at her with obvious discomfort as she sat on her bed trying to pretend everything was just as it should be, enjoying her power to discompose him far more than she ought to.
He was playing the gentleman, showing her he was willing to leave at her command— making polite inquires after her health. It was unbearable.
The drawing room was where he had expected her to take him. There they might carry on enlightened conversation about literature or perhaps the theater, anything to make this arrangement feel a little less sordid.
Last night had been the exception. He had been anxious and she had been eager to have it over with; now there should be no such excuse. Yet she could not sit in the drawing room and converse meaninglessly about the merits of Richardson when her mind was in a state of dread waiting for the moment he would touch her and transform her into that wanton creature once more.
Then, of course, there was the anger. She had decided in the brief time he had allowed her to think, that it was not that he had ruined her, rather it was the confusion he caused within her that was the root of her fury towards him. A fury she was desperately trying to contain and failing miserably.
"Mr. Mumford came to speak with you today, I believe," he said as he wrung the brim of his hat, it would soon be unwearable if he kept at it.
"Yes, I spoke with the surgeon. I was under the impression you would send a physician." She did not know why she spoke so peevishly; she had been perfectly satisfied by Mr. Mumford's assessment.
Darcy did not rise to her baiting, replying evenly, "I will find a physician for a second opinion if that is your desire."
He had already tried to get the physician Lady Catherine had on retainer to see to Miss Bennet to no avail. The man could not be persuaded to sully himself by visiting such a lowly address no matter the sum offered.
"I sent Mr. Mumford because his father attended my father. I tried to rouse Mr. Mumford senior out of retirement without success. The younger, however, impressed me. His mind is as curious as his father's and his approach to medicine is . . . refreshing, though of course I know very little of medicine."
The placidity of his response scolded her better than any heated defense might have. Contritely she said, "He seemed very knowledgeable to me as well. Forgive me, I was trying to find fault with you."
"An easy task I daresay. Nonetheless, I hope you know I would never neglect anyone important to you."
His words were sincere and spoken with great tenderness, which—to her own puzzlement—caused Lizzy to blush and drop her gaze to her hands. She could not bear the intensity of his sentiment.
"Mr. Mumford suggested Jane's health might improve if she is removed from London. I am unsure how to go about securing a house, but I should like to see if one can be found within my budget."
"Mr. Mumford came to me this afternoon and gave me the same report. I have already asked my man of business to look into houses for lease outside of the city. I think somewhere in Lambeth would be best, cleaner air with the advantage of being an easy distance from London—you would still be able to visit your sisters on Sundays. If a suitable house can be found I will take it immediately, and your sisters shall be out of London by the end of next week."
"It was very kind of you," Lizzy sputtered, feeling outrage at his assumption that she would be staying here. She supposed after last night he might be justified in thinking thusly, but to simply begin making arrangements for her sisters before consulting her was overbearing. There had been times since she had taken on the responsibility of seeing to her family's welfare she had wished someone might swoop in and make the difficult decisions for her. Now that someone was doing just that she found she did not like it at all.
"But how is your man of business to know what we can afford—what we need? No, I will find a house on my own I only need to know who I should contact."
"The final decision shall of course be yours, but I can find fitting options and make arrangements swifter than you can. And as for the question cost, I will pay for the lease." Observing she still intended to protest he added, "It will not affect the sum we have agreed you will receive upon severance, if that is what you are worried about." He was unable to cover the bitterness in his voice. She was glad of the bitterness. It would not do for her to be the only one with misplaced resentment
"You seek to buy my affection, sir," she said with
unintended sharpness, all her words were emerging from her lips as daggers.
"No, I think I am trying to purchase your forgiveness. Your affection is too much to hope for."
"I have said there is nothing to forgive."
"You cannot mean that."
"My respectability was gone long ago and my actions last night were by my choice."
"Your resentment is plain. You cannot pretend you are not angry with me."
"I do not pretend. I am angry with you. I do not believe I have ever been angrier with anyone in my life, but my anger at you is not deserved. It was not your fault I had a price."
Darcy's keen gaze bore into her as if he might look into her soul. She looked away again, returning her attention to her hands, which had nervously busied themselves with knotting the sash of her dressing gown.
He could discern nothing of note from his study of her. She was angry and anxious, that much he could read from her expression, but he did not know what he might say to ease her mind. How he could make amends to a person who refused to hold him culpable?
"I would rather you not be so serene. Let your sharp tongue give me the pain I deserve so that we might move beyond this."
Lizzy looked up, her eyes dancing with sudden amusement. "You want me to yell at you?"
"No, of course not. . . I don't know—perhaps."
"I think I understand, you want me to rail at you so it might assuage you of your guilt."
"You are as astute as ever, Elizabeth."
He made the mistake of smiling at her. Her mood was too dangerous for such pleasantries. To her eye the smile was patronizing, though he had not intended it be, and it raised her ire.
"What you must understand, Mr. Darcy, is your guilt is the only satisfaction I can derive from this arrangement. Beyond the financial reward, of course. It would be detrimental to my amusement to do anything that would aid in its reduction." Tears filled her eyes even as she said the words. After all that had happened to her she had not become a hateful person, yet now it would seem she was turning into one most rapidly.
She fully expected him to turn and leave never speak to her again. It was alarming how much it hurt her to think those would be her last words to him.
To her surprise he laughed. It was an empty, forced laugh but it was still in such contrast to what she had anticipated she stared at him as if he had gone mad.
When he had ceased laughing she opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted her, "Do not apologize. I did ask for it."
Weakly she began to apologize despite his command, but he interrupted her once more.
"If I told you I would give you the two thousand pounds now would you leave?"
He was giving her choices again. Perhaps he enjoyed dangling freedom in front of her knowing when it came to him she would always choose wrongly. Or perhaps he truly did wish never to see her again.
"Yes," she said, feeling proud of herself for how confident she had sounded.
He stalked over to her. He laid his hat and coat on the bed then hauled her up by her shoulders. Taking her chin in his hand he studied her a moment, and then, with a smile that was most certainly intentionally patronizing he said, "I don't believe you."
Before she could argue, he crushed her lips with his own. His despair clashed with her anger, a battle ensued yet neither emotion arose the victor for passion burned through them both, leaving nothing but desire in its wake.
After a long struggle made more difficult by his unwillingness to part his lips from hers, Darcy untangled the many knots Lizzy had in her anxiety tied in her sash. The dressing gown fell from her shoulders revealing she wore nothing beneath it. She held back laughter at his mesmerized expression as she turned to make for the bed but he held fast to her wrist, leading her instead to the full length mirror on the other side of the room.
He spun her to face the mirror and she stood looking perplexedly at her own reflection, wondering what he wished her to note until he said, "Watch."
His command was superfluous; she could do nothing but watch as his hands teased the tips of her breasts into hardened peaks then as he traveled lower still, one arm wrapping around her waist to steady her as the other hand found her most sensitive place. Lazily he stroked her with his thumb, dipping two fingers within her, mimicking the act that was soon to follow. Lizzy arched against him, the buttons of his waist coat scraping her back as her body moved to the rhythm he set for her.
Darcy halted his ministrations suddenly, whispering taunting words, "You do not look to me like a woman who wants to leave, Elizabeth."
Lizzy looked into her own eyes, reflected within them was a deep yearning she could hardly deny. An arch smile pulled at her lips and she shrugged carelessly as if to say, "That may be, but it is still you who is in my power."
In reply to her silent tease he chuckled, not the empty, theatrical laugh of earlier, but a true expression of mirth. She looked over her shoulder at him, delighted by the sound.
He dropped a tender kiss upon her lips then, conceding his defeat, moved the chair by her dresser in front of the mirror.
She cast an inquisitive gaze between him and the chair.
"You are meant to bend over it," he said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
Seeing his explanation had not elucidated the matter for her at all, he took her hand and led it to the back of the chair, repeating the motion with her other hand before taking her by the waist and pulling her towards himself so she was tilting forward from her hips.
"I see," she said, finally understanding his intention. She did not, however, understand his evident embarrassment. After the events of the previous evening what could possibly make the composed Mr. Darcy flush so hotly?
Upon giving up her study of his expression and returning her gaze to her own reflection she discovered the source of his discomfiture. There was something rather more shocking about their current pose when compared to the way their bodies had joined last night. Somehow his mostly clothed state made it all the more indecent.
Despite his blushing, Darcy seemed quite taken with the view. His eyes moved over her form with such relish Lizzy was certain she could feel them upon her skin like a heated caress. She managed to work up a becoming blush by imagining how lewd a vision she must make from the angle at which he stood, but she could not uncover within herself any of the shame she knew she ought to feel.
She tried to reach for the confusion and anger that had plagued her earlier but found she could not fix her mind on any of those things which had concerned her before. There could be nothing so diverting as this state of anticipatory exhilaration, she was certain.
Overcome with the relief of finding herself momentarily free of her cares a laugh bubbled up from her throat.
"Do you dare laugh at me?" Darcy asked, trying to affect a severe expression with little success. Her levity was catching.
"Yes I dare, you are in desperate need of it."
"Indeed."
She laughed again, realizing her own unintentional double entendre.
"You're lovely when you laugh."
"Only when I laugh?" His hand brushed her bottom as he unfastened the fall of his breeches, causing her playful question to sound breathy.
"Always."
He entered her with deliberate slowness, savoring her low cry of elation.
Lizzy felt the difference of his lovemaking. His pace was unhurried yet he was not as cautious as he had been the previous evening, moving deeper within her—making her feel his claim.
Her loins tensed. The tightness was at first pleasant, but then became almost painful as it increased. She whimpered in her frustration and he stroked that sensitive place just above the junction of their bodies, coaxing her into her release before withdrawing from her to find his own.
Sometime later Lizzy found herself in bed her back pressed against his chest. He had divested himself of the remainder of his attire and led her there in the haze of her rapture. If his contented sigh were any indication, he was
pleased with this arrangement, but Lizzy was not certain of her own feelings.
She was not sobbing, she supposed that must be seen as an improvement, but she was not at ease. His holding her now felt too much like affection. Pleasure could be paid for, but one heart could only be exchanged for another. She was not yet ready to give him her heart, therefore she could not take his.
Wriggling out of his grasp, she moved to the other side of the bed. Darcy followed her, pinning her to the mattress her lips a breath away from his.
"I would never be so much a fool as to think that I could demand anything of you so I will entreat you instead. Stay, Elizabeth. Please tell me you will stay."
She knew he not only meant he wanted her to stay in his arms, but also to keep to their agreement—to continue to be his paramour with only her weakening resolve to protect her heart.
His eyes held her captive. She felt their pull not only in her body but in her sinner's soul.
"I will stay," she whispered then she brushed her lips to his, sparking the flame—leading them back into the blissful oblivion of passion.
Chapter Ten
"And you are certain we can afford it?" Jane asked, not for the first time.
Lizzy nodded as she sipped her tea. "It is a very modest house. Only five rooms."
"Yes, but you say it is larger than our current situation and it does not share walls, I know we can barely afford this house . . . please do not stretch our budget beyond our limits for my sake. I am fine, as I have told you."
"You are not fine and it is not beyond our limits. The owner of the house is a friend of Mrs. Peyton. She has secured us a discount."
Lies were coming too easily to Lizzy's lips. She had already fabricated an entire week of events with her new employer.
"You must thank Mrs. Peyton for me—for all of us, Lizzy. For her help with the house and for sending Mr. Mumford."
"Yes, Jane is most grateful for Mr. Mumford."
Lizzy turned her attention to Kitty, surprised that her second youngest sister would speak so. Displays of wit were generally left for Lizzy and malicious mocks were the nearly exclusive territory of Lydia. Kitty appeared rather proud of herself as Jane blushed scarlet.
The Ruin of Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 6