But it was probably just as well he could not. Elizabeth was likely sore after all the effort and creativity she had put into proving Mr. Jack wrong. And her aunt deserved a medal for giving good advice. The Order of the Garter, perhaps. Elizabeth’s garter, to be precise.
Elizabeth was watching him in the mirror as Margaret put the finishing touches on her hair. “And what are you smiling about, Mr. Darcy?” she asked teasingly.
“Untrustworthy medical advice,” he said.
She stood up, came to the bed, and leaned down to kiss him. “Mr. Jack always said I was singularly incapable of following instructions.”
He caught the back of her head with his hand and proceeded to kiss her much more thoroughly. When he finally released her, they were both breathless. “My compliments on your disobedience,” he said softly.
She gave him a wicked smile. “I do enjoy being disobedient.” She blew him a kiss as she left, followed by Margaret.
As soon as they were gone, James appeared, carrying a blessedly familiar bowl. “Ice pack, sir?” he asked in his soothing voice.
“Yes.” He had not needed the ice packs in the morning since his first days at Kinloch House, but James was always one step ahead of him.
James tucked a towel behind Darcy’s head before taking a thick cloth stuffed with packed snow from the bowl. He placed one on Darcy’s forehead and another across the top of his head.
Darcy closed his eyes as the cold began to spread relief through his skull. “Good idea,” he said thickly. “No need to tell Mrs. Darcy, though.”
“Of course not, sir.” James sounded mildly offended at the very notion.
Some things were well worth a headache in the morning.
Chapter 20
THEY SPENT ANOTHER fortnight at Kinloch House, less of a honeymoon period than a house party. Richard had left for London the day after the wedding, but there was still a plethora of activity. Every day had some combination of visitors huddled together over plans for the new book with frequent outings to the castle and various local sites of interest. Duncan MacLaren seemed to spend even more time at Kinloch House than when he had been engaged to Elizabeth. If he was not playing tour guide, he was helping with guidebook writing or running lines with Jasper. Mrs. MacLean, whom Darcy was now supposed to call Aunt Emmeline, spent hours visiting with Mr. Jack and the MacLaren. Georgiana grew increasingly proficient on the harp and often Darcy would hear her singing Scottish ballads when she was alone. He knew trouble was coming, but he could ignore it for now.
He would have expected himself to resent how much of Elizabeth’s attention was distracted by other people, but after a few days of marriage, he had learned to conserve his limited stamina for the nights when he had Elizabeth to himself. So he was content to spend his days watching his Elizabeth slowly emerge from the cocoon of tight misery that had hidden her true self for so long, listening to her laugh and hearing her tease the others. And on those occasions when her fine eyes filled with shadows and worries, he was the one she came to for comfort. What more could a man ask, apart from the removal of a medieval torture device, the ability to walk, and to have a full day free from pounding headaches? But even that was slowly improving.
The journey to Edinburgh, when Mr. Jack finally gave his grudging approval, started smoothly enough. Elizabeth shed a few tears over parting with Timmy, full of promises to write and to see him again in a few months. Georgiana was silent as their carriage pulled away from Kinloch House, but Darcy saw her dabbing the corners of her eyes and gazing sadly out the window, as if desperate not to miss her last sight of the Highlands.
But within a few miles, it was clear that the trip would prove most difficult for Darcy. The one-day drive turned into three days as the movement of the carriage set his head throbbing and stomach revolting, and after the first day, his valet begged Elizabeth and Georgiana to ride ahead in a separate carriage because their presence kept Darcy from admitting when he needed to stop. Darcy was too miserable even to argue. When he finally reached Edinburgh, it took three days of lying in a quiet, dark room before Darcy could tolerate a simple conversation. Clearly he would not be going to London in the near future, so he could do nothing but await word from Richard and Hollings.
By the time his head began to clear, Georgiana was already well settled in at Mrs. MacLean’s house. She was subdued in her brief visits to his bedside, but he was uncertain if she was attempting to be quiet for his sake or whether it was a sign of the decline he was expecting.
Finally he summoned the strength to ask Elizabeth about Georgiana.
Elizabeth hesitated, clearly wondering how much of the truth to tell him. “We have tried to distract her. I took her to Edinburgh Castle, and she has been to the theatre each night to see Jasper perform. I know she is not yet out and so should not have been at the theatre, but it would have broken her heart to be denied the opportunity to see him. I have conscripted her to run lines with Jasper to keep her mind occupied. She has played the pianoforte a little, but it seems to make her sad, so I have not pushed her. Today I am taking her to a harp-maker’s shop to purchase an instrument.”
“And the rest of the time?”
“As you predicted. Quiet, picking at her food, speaking only when spoken to. I have reminded her we will return to Kinloch House in the summer, and that seems to cheer her briefly.”
Darcy winced at the thought of another journey. Ramsay had reassured him that his difficulty with travel would improve with time, but the prospect filled him with dread. “It is not a good sign that she is avoiding the pianoforte. Did MacLaren say anything further to you about her?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I know he does not see a future for them; that is clear. Apart from that, I would say he likes her more than he is comfortable with.”
“Is he still coming here next week to finalize the mortgage?”
“As far as I know.” Elizabeth smiled suddenly. “I shall tell Georgiana that I think he would very much enjoy hearing her play the pianoforte when he visits. Do you think that might inspire her?”
“It is worth a try.” Darcy closed his eyes.
“My poor love!” Elizabeth kissed his forehead. “I wish I had some power to make your headaches better.”
“You do make them better. I am simply tired of being an invalid.” And he was endlessly grateful James had agreed to stay on as his valet. The young Scot might have a great deal to learn about wardrobe management, but this setback would have been hellish without his soothing voice, inventiveness in ensuring Darcy’s comfort, and skill with ice packs. The staff at Pemberley were going to be horrified at the idea of a wild Highlander serving as his valet, but they would have to learn to live with it. “What else has happened while I have been lying here?”
“Jasper and my aunt are busy with the theatre, of course. My uncle Gardiner is on his way back to London after a successful meeting with Walter Scott, and he is happy about the progress on the travel guide. I am pleased because I discovered my uncle is writing some of the passages for the book himself, something he had not done for some years. And we received a letter from Timmy today, complaining about Mr. Jack’s deficiencies as a Latin tutor compared to you.”
“And you?”
She squeezed his hand. “I have missed you more than I could have imagined. I am so glad to be able to speak to you again!”
Two days later, Darcy’s recovery was enhanced by a visit from Ramsay who announced that it was time to remove his medieval torture device and replaced it with a standard splint. “Just for some extra support while you are learning to walk again,” Ramsay said, carefully packing up the torture device for future reference.
With a walking stick in each hand, Darcy took five wobbling steps before collapsing into a chair. “Good God! What is wrong with me?” he demanded.
“Nothing that a little exercise will not fix,” said Ramsay. “Jack MacLaren is a genius. Anyone would have told you that a double break like that could never heal.”
Still, when it became clear Darcy would not be traveling again for some time, he suggested to Elizabeth that perhaps they should find lodgings of their own rather than imposing on her aunt indefinitely. Elizabeth responded by fetching Mrs. MacLean. “Aunt Emmeline, my foolish husband is worried because we will be imposing on your hospitality longer than we had planned.”
Mrs. MacLean raised her eyebrows. “That is utter nonsense. This is Lizzy’s home, and therefore yours, for as long as you wish. I would be perfectly happy if you stayed forever. I wish Pemberley were not so far away.”
“So do I,” said Elizabeth, her voice hitching. “I will miss you so much when we go there.”
Darcy said quickly, “I hope you know you are welcome at Pemberley any time for as long as you like, and should there ever come a time when you no longer have the constraints of the theatre schedule, we would be honored if you would consider making your home with us.” He meant it, too. Even after only a brief time living with her, he understood what Elizabeth had said about the comfort of having a loving parent.
Mrs. MacLean’s eyes filled with tears. “You are very kind, but pray do not say that unless you mean it.”
Elizabeth jumped up and put her arms around her aunt. “We do mean it. We have discussed it at length, and nothing could make me happier. If I did not know how important the theatre is to you, I would be insisting upon it.”
Her aunt dabbed her cheeks. “My dearest girl! The theatre filled a need for me after Imogen’s death, but I am growing too old for the rigors of the full season, and there are fewer roles I can play. If it were not for training Jasper, I would have already told Siddons this season would be my last.”
Now Elizabeth’s eyes were teary. “If that is what you truly wish, I dearly hope you will make your home with us.”
“I will consider it. I want the freedom to spend more time at Kinloch House, too. But Jasper will still benefit from my support for a time, and I must admit it is exciting to have a hand in training an actor of his caliber.”
“And you are very fond of him,” Elizabeth teased. “How is it he is now calling you Aunt Emmeline?”
Her aunt laughed. “I told him he could because it was too difficult to explain why my niece’s husband’s friend lived in my house.” She lowered her voice dramatically. “In truth, it was clear he was terribly jealous that Darcy was now my nephew while he could claim only a distant connection, and I am perfectly happy to have another nephew, even if it is only honorary.”
“Whatever you decide, you must come to Pemberley at Christmas, since we are inviting both Jasper and the Matlocks to celebrate the season of peace on our neutral ground. Jasper will need his honorary aunt then. My sister Jane and her husband will be invited, too, and I know she will wish to meet you.”
“You may depend upon me,” her aunt pronounced.
“Timmy must come as well, of course, if Mr. Jack will spare him,” added Darcy. “We have many dogs at Pemberley who need Timmy just as much as Bonnie Prince does. They simply do not know it yet.”
DUNCAN MACLAREN ARRIVED in Edinburgh the following week. Despite clearly making an effort to pay no particular attention to Georgiana, MacLaren fooled no one, especially after the first evening when Georgiana played a concerto on the pianoforte, and he stared at her like a lost soul seeing his hope of salvation. “I had no idea you had such a remarkable ability, lass,” he said afterwards. “I have not heard such a performance since I was a boy in school.”
Georgiana glowed as she showed him the new sheet music of Scottish songs she had purchased. “I am still learning these,” she said shyly.
Darcy exchanged a glance with Elizabeth. Later, after they retired for the night, she asked him, “Are you certain you wish to do this? What if she recovers from her infatuation once she is back in England?”
He pulled her into his arms. “I wanted to marry you when I had only known you a fortnight, but I knew I could not make such an unsuitable match. So I told myself I would forget you once I left, or perhaps from time to time I would think back on you fondly. But I could not forget you. You were in my mind every minute. I dreamed of you. I kept seeing glimpses of young ladies who looked like you, and I would feel bereft when I realized they were not you. I would think of things I wanted to tell you, and then be physically ill with the knowledge I would never tell you them. I felt numb to everything, only wanting you, needing you. But I told myself I would forget you in time.” He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath catching in his throat. “Then I saw you in Kent, and I realized I could never forget, not ever. But I fought myself over your unsuitability, battled myself until when I finally gave in to the need to propose to you, I said all the wrong things. When you refused me, I felt like something inside me had died. I could see no point in living. Food tasted like ashes. Finally I went home to Pemberley, and for the first time, I could breathe without feeling it was an enormous effort. That was when I realized I did not care whether you were the most unsuitable woman in the world. Without you, I would have only half a life. I will not put Georgiana through that. Perhaps they will grow apart over the next two years and end the private understanding, but I will not let her suffer as I did out of a misplaced sense of pride and my duty to the family name. Let them start their lives together with joy, not misery.”
Elizabeth caught his face between her hands and kissed him, her eyes wild and shiny. “I do not deserve you,” she choked out. “Not because of your wealth or your birth or your estate, but because of who you are. I am proud of you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“But I just told you all the mistakes I made,” he protested.
“That is why I love you,” she said. “And now I am going to show you how much.”
“WHISKY OR PORT?” DARCY asked MacLaren the next evening. He waved to the servants to leave, waiting for them to close the study door behind them.
“Whisky, if you please.” MacLaren turned pale. “Is something the matter?”
“No, not at all.” Darcy poured two drams of whisky and handed one to MacLaren, who still looked worried. “I wanted to speak to you about Georgiana’s horse.”
Now he just appeared puzzled. “Bucephalus?”
“Yes. An odd mount for a 16-year-old girl, would you not say?”
“You cannot mean to separate them! She adores that horse.”
“I would sooner attempt to jump over the moon than to separate them. Has she told you the story of how she got him?”
MacLaren sipped his whisky. “I do not believe so.”
“When she was eight years old, I took her with me when I visited a stable to examine a horse I was thinking of buying. Even then she never missed any opportunity to see horses. I spent some time checking over the horse and decided against buying him, but before we left, Georgiana dragged me to a different stall to show me another horse. I laughed when I saw him. He looked even worse then. He might not have been the ugliest horse in England, but he came close. They were using him as a workhorse because he would not let anyone ride him. His shoulder muscles on one side had wasted away, and his coat had scabs and bald patches on his back and rump. She begged me to buy him. I have never seen her look at anything that way before, with her heart in her eyes.”
“And you did?”
“Of course not. I explained why he would not do. She cried all the way home and was so miserable that my father eventually went to see the horse. He said no, too, and laughed about it. Georgiana was a biddable child and not one to complain, so she accepted it. I went off to my last term at Cambridge, and when I returned, Georgiana was a shadow of herself. Her nurse told me she was crying herself to sleep, but no one knew why. I sat down with her and asked what was wrong, and she told me she was missing Bucephalus. She had met him precisely twice and never seen him outside his stall. The next day I rode back to London, only to find he had been sold. It took me nearly a week of traveling to track him down and buy him, and more than a year for his shoulder to heal and his coat to grow back. They have been inseparable s
ince.”
“You are a very devoted brother.”
“I want her to be happy.” Darcy set down his whisky and said deliberately, “I have never forgotten that look on her face when she showed me Bucephalus. It is the same way she looks at you.”
MacLaren choked on his whisky, spluttering and coughing for over a minute. When he was finally capable of speech, he said in a strangled voice, “I have never behaved inappropriately to Miss Darcy, nor have I spoken to her in any way that I could not speak to my own sister.” He coughed again. “I know she is far above my touch, too young, and that she should marry a wealthy aristocrat. I know my place.” He almost managed to hide his bitterness.
“I agree she is far too young.” Darcy was beginning to enjoy himself. “Her marital prospects are nearly limitless. The son of an impoverished Scottish chieftain should not even enter into consideration. On the other hand, she deserves the finest thoroughbred mount, and I spent most of a quarter’s allowance to buy her the ugliest horse in England.”
MacLaren fingered his whisky glass nervously. “I do not know what to say.”
“I am raising this issue because I am in a dilemma on account of Georgiana’s nature,” Darcy said. “She is still biddable and not one to complain, so she will accept it if I tell her I am not willing to let her marry or enter into an engagement at sixteen. However, I am equally unwilling to let her cry herself to sleep for months on end, and I would like to see her finish a meal again without having to threaten her into eating it. Therefore, as a compromise, I am willing to allow you to write to each other, with the caveat that I will sometimes open and read your letters before giving them to her. When she is eighteen and has been presented to society, if she wishes to go ahead with a formal engagement, I will not stand in her way. This understanding would have to be completely secret, so that if she decides to break it, her reputation is untouched.”
A Matter of Honor Page 36