With My Whole Heart Forever

by Wendi Sotis

  What had she done to make Wickham feel it necessary to punish her and all her kin so horribly?

  If she had not succeeded in pulling away from Wickham at the ball, she strongly felt that he would have kidnapped her right then.

  For her own sake, she would never regret defending herself, but if he had succeeded, her entire family would have received sympathy.

  Now, if Sally told others what she believed happened between her and Wickham, or if there were other copies of these letters, her entire family would be censured right along with her.

  Perhaps it would have been better for her sisters’ sakes if she had not fought back, and instead, had allowed him to pull her behind the barn and do who knows what?

  Oh, if only she had been aware of what she knew now, would she have sacrificed herself for her sisters? Of course, she would have, but there was no way to do that now.

  She could not stop a wail from rising up from somewhere deep within her.

  “Lizzy!” Ana said sleepily.

  The door latch rattled, then splinters flew everywhere as it cracked, then exploded open. It crashed into the wall behind it. Mr. Darcy rushed in.

  Shock suspended Elizabeth’s tears.

  Elizabeth watched him stand by the destroyed door and examine the room. He stared at Ana, then moved his gaze to her.

  What was Mr. Darcy even doing at Longbourn?

  “What was that?”

  “I am sorry,” Elizabeth wiped her tear-stained cheeks with her sleeve.

  Ana scrambled off the bed and sat on the floor next to her. “Lizzy, why did you scream?”

  Mr. Darcy kneeled beside them.

  Elizabeth sniffed. “I found the letters Sally placed in my journal… supposedly to me from Wickham.” She gestured to the hearth where the last of the blackened paper fell onto the stone beneath the logs. “I read them, hoping they would provide a clue to his plans. Instead, I found—” Her voice failed her.

  She swallowed and cleared her throat. “He wrote such dreadful lies. About me… and him.” Her voice cracked. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “He said we were intimate, even before I was at Pemberley.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “How could he say such a thing? I have only seen him two times — outside the Harvest Ball, with my Aunt nearby, and in the woods of Longbourn with Ana. I swear it!”

  Tears began rolling down her cheeks once again. “Sally must have read them. She must have believed them, or she would not have betrayed our family in such a way. What if she tells someone what she read? My entire family—” Her breath began coming in short gasps. “All my sisters will be ruined.”

  She tried to repress a sob, but it was so forceful it could not be contained.

  Mr. Darcy pulled her into his arms. She leaned her head against his chest — against the safety and warmth of the man she loved — and she wept in earnest. His arms tightened around her.

  Ana rubbed her arm.

  Elizabeth sensed more people in the room, but she could not stop herself from bawling and could not care enough to see who it was.

  Darcy could not blame the entire Bennet family and his cousin for running into the room after the racket he had made while breaking down the door to Elizabeth’s bedchamber. They were either standing at the entrance to the hallway or the dressing room. Richard pushed inside the room and searched thoroughly, to make sure the ladies were safe.

  Amazingly, the family was utterly silent. Shock, perhaps?

  At first, upon entering the room and hearing what little Elizabeth had said about what was in Wickham’s letters, he had been furious and horrified. But the moment Elizabeth needed him, that all melted away.

  Against everything he had been taught about propriety, for some reason, Darcy did not care in the least that all these people were here to witness his comforting Elizabeth. She was all that mattered.

  Leaving one hand on her back, he moved the other to her hair and pulled Elizabeth closer.

  Words could not describe the sensation that was growing in his chest. The closest he could come was, This is where I belong.

  While he would rather see her happy and satisfied as he held her, having her in his arms as she shared her burdens, having her rely upon him to help her make everything right again, was near enough.

  Elizabeth trusted him. It was awe-inspiring.

  Silently, he vowed to be there for her whenever she needed him, for as long as he lived, and to make certain she was happy as often as possible.

  He had not realised he had closed his eyes until he opened them, and by chance, met Mr. Bennet’s gaze. He expected her father to be angry — after all, he was holding his daughter on the floor of her bedchamber — but that was not the case. The smile in Mr. Bennet’s eyes told him Richard and Bingley had been correct. This is what he found entertaining all along. He knew, even before Darcy had known. Mr. Bennet had witnessed Darcy’s questioning the inevitable and found his resistance amusing. Bingley and Richard had known, as well.

  Darcy raised his eyebrows. Mr. Bennet nodded.

  He looked at his sister, who was sitting close by, comforting Elizabeth, as well. Ana’s eyes were filled with tears, but she was smiling. She placed a hand on his arm and mouthed, “Please?”

  Ana loved Elizabeth almost as much as he did.

  Now, all he needed was an acceptance from Elizabeth herself.

  He blinked and took a deep breath. The air he inhaled was laced with Elizabeth’s scent.

  After another minute or so, Elizabeth calmed, but he continued to stroke her back.

  He had already compromised her thoroughly before her entire family and those of his own who were most important to him. Now was a good a time to propose as any.

  He had nothing prepared. No speech. No flowery words. Anxiety swept away the perfect sensation of home that existed in his mind and soul only a moment ago.

  He knew deep within that he would love Elizabeth with his whole heart, forever. Should he mention it before all these people?

  No, it would be humiliating if she said she did not love him, too.

  As Darcy pulled away to looked down at Elizabeth.

  She met his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. How could she remain so beautiful, even after crying so intensely?

  His heart calmed. If Elizabeth did not love him, he could love enough for both of them. However, he would hold back his feeling until they were alone.

  “Oh, what am I to do?” she asked. “How can this situation be mended?”

  “Marry me, Elizabeth?” he asked softly. “We shall find a way together.”

  As the seconds ticked by, the expression in her eyes moved from surprise, happiness, ending finally in misery. She moved away so that they were no longer touching, leaving him bereft and empty.

  It was there in her eyes as she almost folded in upon herself. She would refuse him.

  As she opened her mouth to speak, he could swear his heart stopped beating.

  CHAPTER 32

  The man I love wishes to marry me! thought Elizabeth.

  It took a moment for her to realise he had said nothing about his feelings for her. He had mentioned in the past that he felt responsible for Wickham’s misdeeds and often did whatever it took to fix what his childhood friend had broken. Had Mr. Darcy proposed only to ease his conscience over the possibility of Wickham’s ruining her, and by association, her sisters? If so, and they married, he would grow cold and resentful towards her in time.

  Besides, rumours might be spread, detailing what Wickham had written in his letters — if a maid who had worked in their household for years and knew her reasonably well could believe what he said of her, others would believe it without a second thought.

  If she married Mr. Darcy, her dishonour would tarnish his good name.

  And Ana, too. Poor Ana, the girl she had come to love as much as any of her own sisters. Ana avoided her own public humiliation after what Wickham had done to her at Ramsgate. How could Elizabeth bring Elizabeth’s own disgrace onto her?


  No, she could not do it, not to either of them.

  Folding her arms around her middle, she hugged herself. She forced out, “I am flattered by the honour of your proposal, Mr. Darcy, but I cannot marry you.”

  How painful those words had been to voice — it was as if her heart was torn from her chest. She looked down at the rug, unable to witness Mr. Darcy’s reaction.

  “Elizabeth Rose Bennet!” her mother screeched from the corridor. “You ungrateful girl! What do you mean you cannot? Of course, you can marry him. You will.”

  “Hold your tongue, Mrs. Bennet,” said her father in the sternest tone he had ever used with any of his family.

  “But this is not that toad of a man who asked her before. I did not like that she refused Mr. Collins, but at least that I could understand!” Her voice reached the highest pitch Elizabeth ever heard.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes.

  Her mother continued, “This is Mr. Darcy! A handsome, wealthy gentleman who owns the largest estate in all of Derbyshire. A man whose relations are peers of the realm. My daughter will not say no to him!”

  “We have discussed this in the past. I will not force any of my daughters to marry a man with whom she does not wish to spend her life, no matter his station,” her father boomed. “Stop speaking now, Mrs. Bennet, or there will be consequences. Have you no sense of discretion at all?”

  Elizabeth’s stomach lurched again. She quickly rose from the floor and rushed into the dressing room.

  As her stomach emptied, Jane held back her long braid.

  When she finished, she took the damp cloth Jane handed her and wiped her face, then cried, “Oh, how could so much go wrong when I have done only what was right?”

  Why had he done it? Darcy could not fathom why he had asked her to marry him in front of all those witnesses. His only relief was that he had not poured out his feelings for her, too.

  After Mrs. Bennet’s appalling remarks and Mr. Bennet’s stunning response, Elizabeth had run away. He could not blame her.

  When Darcy realised he was sitting on the floor and staring at the door through which she had escaped, he rose, told Mr. Bennet to send him the bill for a new door and left the room. He and Richard retreated to what Richard called Mr. Bennet’s book room.

  Richard paced the floor as Darcy stared at the chessboard.

  Was this where Elizabeth and Ana played last evening?

  It must have been. He could almost detect Elizabeth’s scent in the room.

  God help him, all he wanted to do right now was climb into bed and sleep forever.

  A knock at the door made him jump.

  “Leave it,” said Darcy. “It is probably Mrs. Bennet, thinking to try to convince me to make an offer to one of her other daughters instead.”

  Richard raised his eyebrows and crossed to open the door.

  Thank goodness it was Ana. He stood.

  She seemed livid.

  Good. His sister would be able to understand his own disposition at the moment.

  As soon as the door closed, Ana placed her hands on her hips. “Fitzwilliam, how could you just leave her?”

  Perhaps he should not be thankful for his sister’s presence, after all. “I did not leave. She left me and then I relocated to another room.” He lowered himself into a chair and thought, I needed time to lick my wounds.

  “Lizzy is sick with worry and fear, and yet you abandoned her?”

  “Abandoned?” His mouth dropped open. “She refused me in front of the entire household. What was I supposed to do? Beg her to reconsider as she dashed from the room?”

  In a way, it was a good thing she had run from him. If she had stayed, the fool he was, he just might have begged.

  The first part of Ana’s speech repeated in his mind. He asked, “What do you mean, she is sick?”

  Ana answered, “As I said. She is physically ill.”

  Darcy furrowed his brow. He could not imagine Elizabeth ill.

  “It is probably from being overwrought,” Richard said.

  “About Wickham’s letters,” Darcy stated. Even though she did not wish to marry him, he would safeguard her reputation as best he could. A rush of anger at Wickham surged through his veins once more. “We must go to the army camp immediately and look through Wickham’s belongings — retrieve her journal entry. That should help her recover.”

  “I agree, and we shall go there directly, but those are not the only reasons she is distraught,” Richard said calmly, but Darcy could see he was angry with him.

  “What else could there be?” Darcy asked. “She certainly could not be upset about refusing me.”

  “Are you blind, Cousin?” Richard said forcefully. “Miss Elizabeth wanted to say yes.”

  Darcy grunted. “Then why did she say no?”

  “Were you not listening, man? Miss Elizabeth told you why. She expects the maid who helped Wickham will spread gossip about Miss Elizabeth’s fictional undoing all around the neighbourhood. If that happens, she will be disgraced.”

  Darcy blinked. Thoughts ran through his head so quickly, he was almost unable to make sense of it all. But, yes, she did look as if she was about to accept, then her visage suddenly changed to despair.

  Darcy sat up a little straighter. “She was safeguarding my reputation?” He looked up at his cousin.

  Richard stopped pacing immediately before him. “Of course, you oaf!”

  Ana took a step closer. “And mine.”

  Although Darcy had assumed he would never want to recall that scene in his mind ever again in his entire lifetime, he thought back over every look, every word. Elizabeth had glanced at Ana, then at him, with deep sorrow before speaking.

  It was consistent with her nature. Elizabeth’s family would suffer whether she married him or not; however, in attaching herself to him, she would pull both of the Darcys into the trouble.

  Mr. Bennet knocked once, and, without waiting for an answer, entered his book room.

  Darcy bolted up from the chair. “Mr. Bennet. We must go to the camp and search Wickham’s possessions and retrieve whatever he placed there to implicate her.” He took a deep breath and turned to Richard, then back to Mr. Bennet. “I have not had time to tell you what we learned last evening.”

  He explained about what happened last night with Lucy and her brother, and how he was now absolutely convinced that if they took matters into their own hands and sent him from England, they were no better than Lucy and Joseph had been when they freed Wickham.

  “Last evening, we said we would make a decision today.” Darcy turned to Mr. Bennet. “In my opinion, we should report what he did yesterday to prove he was planning never to return to duty so the army can punish him.”

  Richard let out a long, relieved breath. “I agree completely.”

  “I agree, as well,” said Ana.

  Mr. Bennet nodded. “The same thoughts weighed heavily on my mind last night. I am certain my Lizzy would agree.”

  Darcy’s gut clenched when he heard Mr. Bennet refer to her as “my Lizzy.” If things had gone better this morning, he might have been thinking of her as “my Elizabeth” by now. He shook off the thought. He would have time to think of that later!

  “Miss Darcy and Lizzy will be safe here with us while you do what you need to do.” Mr. Bennet nodded, looked at Darcy, then Richard, and tilted his head a bit. “On your return to Longbourn, you might want to step into the shops and ask the proprietors to send Colonel Forster an accounting of Wickham’s debts, as well.”

  “That is an excellent idea, sir,” Richard said.

  “Miss Darcy, I am certain the other ladies are anxious for your return. I imagine most of the family are in the breakfast room about now. Would you and Lizzy please join them there? It will be easier for Mr. Hill and me to keep watch over everyone if you are all together.”

  Mr. Bennet crossed to the door and opened it. “Come. I will see you gentlemen off.”

  Elizabeth washed and changed into a fresh gown, the
n sat the dressing table, her current journal in hand. The book where she found the letters began with her trip to Charlotte’s new home in Kent. It also encompassed her stay in Derbyshire.

  Her earlier journals were in a different drawer and neatly tied with a ribbon. Although it had been more than a year since Lydia had outgrown her most prying stage, Elizabeth had gotten into the habit of tying the ribbon a certain way so she would be aware if her sister went through her journals. No one, not even Jane, knew of this.

  Examining the contents of that drawer, she shook her head. All was as it should be… the stack was undisturbed. So that left the current journal.

  She opened that book and flipped through the pages, checking for remnants of a page being torn out, and whether all the sentences moving from one page to another were continuous.

  When she reached the page from the day before she had left home with the Gardiners for Derbyshire, a small scrap of paper fell onto the floor. Elizabeth leaned over and picked it up. It was the corner of a page, and it looked as if it was deliberately torn off. “Mr. Darcy is” was written on one side, and part of an undeterminable word was on the other side.

  Obviously, the page Sally took was from Pemberley or later, after she had met Mr. Darcy. She quickly turned further into the book.

  Remembering back to that time, she had switched between writing to Mr. Darcy and writing to herself, sometimes without any kind of prelude to the change. If Sally tore out a page that was written to Mr. Darcy…

  She turned another page and found it — the ragged edge of a page that had been torn out. She looked at what was written before and after it and remembered quite clearly what she had been writing on the missing sheet.

  Her entire body trembled. That would teach her to write such personal thoughts in her journal!

  To think that someone, anyone, had read what she had written!