Elizabeth smiled. She remembered how vexed she had been by his absence. But her ire had been brief for Mr Bingley followed him in, and Jane’s face shone with happiness and anticipation.
Thursday 7th November, Netherfield
I have decided I must, due to the way our engagement came about, offer Elizabeth the opportunity to be rid of me. Bingley and Miss Bennet are also to be wed. I have confessed all, and he has forgiven me, yet still he asked for my blessing! Since taking Charles under my ‘wing’ at Cambridge, we have forged a strong friendship, but I fear I have yet to instil in him the importance of running his own life, as well as being the master of his own home. I do not think Caroline or Louisa Hurst would have enjoyed as much mirth at the expense of the Bennet’s if he took a firmer rein on his siblings. We are to ride to town tomorrow to inform Charles’s sisters of his betrothal, but we will be gone only one day. I will speak to Elizabeth on my return from Pemberley. I do not know what I will do if she decides to accept my offer to release her, but it must be done. My conscience demands it! If the worst happens, I cannot stay here. Maybe I will travel overseas; Byron heads for Italy shortly and has asked for my company, perhaps I will agree.
Saturday 9th November, Netherfield
I spoke out of turn to Elizabeth today, and needing to explain the reason why, so I journeyed to Longbourn in the dead of night. I only wanted to give Elizabeth a letter explaining my dealings with GW, but God help me, I was on the brink of damnation for what nearly passed betwixt us. I seem to lose all control when she is in my arms and returns my kisses with those sweet lips of hers. When she draped her arms around my shoulders and caressed the nape of my neck, I felt transported back to the library at Pemberley and imagined we were consummating our love again and again. I must try to control myself and cease using any excuse to take these liberties. Elizabeth is a gentle woman, naive to the world of carnal knowledge. How am I to win her love and convince her I am a gentleman when I act as a rake?
Elizabeth blushed scarlet as she recalled the event to which he referred.
Tuesday 12th November, Pemberley
Fool! I must put right what I have omitted to do. I must make a proper proposal to Elizabeth. One she will be able to recount to our children with pride and affection, rather than the actual events that lead to our betrothal. I would not have them think their father a beast that was unable to control his baser instincts. Though, each time we are together, I am convinced I am gaining Elizabeth’s trust and affection. She appears to welcome my attentions and responds with a sweet innocence that only fuels my desire. I cannot rest at night; Elizabeth fills my dreams. Last eve, I dreamt we were in the library at Pemberley, and she came to me, her hair abandoned and in her night attire. She began to undress me as I sat before the fire, savouring deep kisses until we ended up tumbling to the floor. It culminated in us exploring each other’s bodies to fulfilment. I long to hold her in my arms at night and wake to find her still beside me in the morning. I have retrieved Mother's ring from the safe and will ask her for a second, and final time, to be my wife.
Georgiana is eager to make Elizabeth’s acquaintance and knows that I imparted to her the events of last year. Thankfully, she was not vexed with me but said she wanted to start her relationship with Elizabeth with openness and honesty. How proud I am of Georgiana, no longer a child but a young woman.
Saturday 16th November, Netherfield
To my immense relief, Elizabeth has not rejected me; instead, she has confirmed our betrothal and now wears my ring. I am sure Mother would have approved of my choice, as does Georgiana. She tells me she likes Elizabeth very much, and I understand the admiration is mutual. I find the events of the last few days have given me a feeling of euphoria. I thought I knew happiness in the past, but nothing compares to how I feel now.
Before I left for Pemberley, I agreed on a financial arrangement with Mr Bennet. I will fund any extra cost of the wedding he incurs and have arranged a line of credit for him to draw upon. He has assured me he will keep this arrangement strictly between the two of us. Although I do not doubt he has the funds for such a venture, I am acutely aware of how expensive female attire and trivia can be. I have only to look at the receipts from Georgiana’s modiste to remind me.
Sunday 24th November, Netherfield
Church was an ordeal today, but knowing that my beloved was at my side helped me keep my composure. All eyes were upon us, and my aversion to gatherings of the unfamiliar was at a premium. Her hand on my arm calmed me greatly.
P.S. I thought the Revd. Muir glanced often in the direction of young Mary Bennet. He is unwed, and she is of a studious nature. Maybe there is a match to be made which would suit all. I must mention it to Mr Bennet.
Skipping several entries, Elizabeth read on
Tuesday 7th December, Netherfield
I cannot deny my sadness that Elizabeth has yet to declare any regard for me. I know she enjoys my attentions for she comes willingly into my embrace. We frequently share stolen glances and sometimes I think I see affection there, but I cannot let myself imagine it, not until I hear her speak the words. I am bewitched by the captivating Miss Bennet, and December 18th cannot come soon enough.
p/s Wickham has convinced Miss Lydia Bennet to elope with him. I cannot let Elizabeth be tainted by this action. Richard and I are on his heels and this time, he will marry the girl, silly though she is. It pains me greatly though that I must call him brother after they are married. However, I will endure anything for my beloved...
Having been made aware of their true association, Elizabeth understood Darcy’s abhorrence to this and what he was willing to endure for her. Thankfully, providence had stepped in.
Thursday 12th December, London
Wickham is dead. I cannot write more of it now. I have arranged for him to be interred with his parents in the Pemberley parish of Kympton, it seems only fitting. Lydia has been restored to her family and seems unchanged for her ordeal. No word of the unsuccessful elopement seems to have emerged, and her reputation remains untarnished. Would that she has learnt her lesson, but I fear not.
Only six days until my wedding. Richard informed me the mamas of the Tonne are already in mourning at my loss to the marriage market. I do not know if he speaks in jest, but I thank the Lord for Elizabeth. After God, she is my saviour.
Saturday 14th December, Netherfield
We are to attend the Lucas Ball in two days, and I am full of anticipation at dancing with my beloved. We have only danced once before, and the conversation was completely blighted by Elizabeth’s misconceptions of me due to Wickham’s lies. This time, I am convinced it will be more enjoyable.
I long for the night of our wedding and would not normally write off such, but my dreams are becoming too painful to bear. The other morning, I had to send Fletcher away until I had reined myself in. They are often of a similar vein, the library, a fire burning, and Elizabeth offering herself to me with words of love. I know in reality it will not be so, but in time I hope …
Monday 16th December, Netherfield
I can barely put pen to paper. I had hoped, in time, Elizabeth would grow to love me; I know she holds me in some regard, and this would be, for now, enough. Tonight, though, my hopes have been shattered. I observed Elizabeth and Richard disappear into a private room, unchaperoned. Curious, I followed them. What I witnessed I can only describe as a lovers’ tearful farewell. Have I been blind all along? Did more pass between them when in Kent than I am aware of? Thankfully they were unaware of my presence and believe me ignorant of the facts. If Bingley suffered such pain when he thought Jane did not return his affection, then I am aggrieved at having caused it. The reality of a broken heart is excruciating.
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as she realised she had falsely blamed Col. Fitzwilliam for confessing all to Darcy. It was worse. He had witnessed it for himself. Why had he not asked her for an explanation? But she knew the answer already. His damn pride, she silently cursed.
Tu
esday 17th December, Netherfield
At Elizabeth’s behest, I have not called on her today; instead, I have spent some time with Mr Bennet. He asked my opinion on withdrawing Lydia and Kitty from society. He intends to send them away to school. He would have them less silly and more in the mould of Jane and Elizabeth. I have agreed that the girls, and society, would benefit from this plan and encouraged him wholeheartedly. Although I am unsure how Mrs Bennet will take the news. He also told me that my assumption of last month was right. Mary is to be courted by the Revd. Muir.
I know I cannot live without Elizabeth in my life, and if I am to be a cuckold husband, at least it will be with Richard. I cannot stay angry at him, for who can blame him for falling under the spell of such an angel as she. Good grief, I find myself sounding more like Charles every day…
Thursday 19th December, The Haystack Inn
We are married. Yesterday I took myself a wife, and last night I imbibed to excess purposely so as to avoid my overwhelming desire to consummate my union with her. Elizabeth is mine, but in name only. So this is what they call hell on earth!
Friday 20th December, Pemberley
Today we arrived at Pemberley, and Elizabeth seems genuinely pleased with my home. All the servants assembled to greet her; I hope she was impressed with the warmth of her welcome. Finally, I have my beloved with me at the place I feel the most at ease. Had it been but a week earlier, I am sure my heart would have been bursting with happiness; instead, it feels leaden. I cannot let things carry on in this vein and must decide what to do. But, what am I to do?
Saturday 21st December, Pemberley
My fear of becoming a sot is preferable to going to my wife. My wife, how I have longed to call Elizabeth that; however, I will not indulge myself in her embrace while she longs for the arms of Fitzwilliam. I cannot ask her, and it is clear she is not disposed to tell me what transpired between them. My only escape is to ride out early, work until exhausted, and then find solace at the bottom of the bottle. Yet my longing for Elizabeth is more acute than ever, and my dreams are so vivid, I swear I can feel the warmth of her body next to mine. It is a blessing we are alone, with no-one to witness this sham of a marriage.
Sunday 22nd December, Pemberley
I am broken in body and spirit. The worst has happened. Elizabeth, while in my embrace called out the name of her lover. I am now certain that she cannot love me, for her heart already belongs to Richard. This ache in my chest is as much a physical pain as any I have known, and yet I know no cure, but one, which is denied me. I cannot bear the agony of seeing her daily and not make her mine. I will stay until the conclusion of the New Year festivities and then visit Georgiana for a spell. I will then join Byron and his party on the continent; I know not when I will return.
Elizabeth closed the two halves together and stared down at the book nestled on her lap. Only now did she understand his all-consuming love for her. The pain she had previously caused him, paled in comparison to the depth of his agony now. He believed Richard and her to be lovers, torn apart by duty and honour. If she had made more of an effort to confide her newly discovered regard for him before the wedding, maybe this would never have happened. Wishing she had resisted the temptation to read his private words, Elizabeth placed the book back in its hiding place and pushed the false bottom shut. Why had he not tackled Col. Fitzwilliam that night at Lucas Lodge or even the next morning? It would appear Darcy had not seen her reject his cousin and had, therefore, misconstrued the situation completely. Elizabeth knew it was imperative she action her plan tonight or risk losing him forever.
Suddenly a dreadful realisation hit her. What if she was unable to convince him of her love; if he chose to believe what he mistakenly witnessed or worse, thought she offered her affection fraudulently? Time was most definitely of the essence, and she had very little. She felt the sting of tears as her eyes welled up with the salty fluid, and hurried upstairs.
Having gained the safety of her rooms, Elizabeth threw herself on the bed. The trickle of tears that had begun to fall turned into full sobs as she gave way to her despair. What if having grown to love Darcy, most ardently, he now no longer loved her?
After several minutes, Elizabeth sat up, wiped her face and gave herself a mental shake. Darcy had fallen in love with a lively and spirited girl, someone who was not afraid to tease him or speak their mind, not a watering-pot. In one area at least, her prying had given her an insight into what he desired the most. If this was to be her last chance to convince him of her love, she must hold her nerve and deliver his fantasy. Elizabeth washed and dried her face before hurrying downstairs.
“Ah, Mrs Reynolds, I am in search of Fletcher, may I use your parlour?” she asked.
“Of course, madam, I will send Fletcher to you directly.”
Elizabeth sat in the housekeeper's chair and waited for Darcy’s valet. Presently, a bold knock came on the door, and she bade him enter.
“Good morning, Fletcher, I trust you are well?” she enquired nervously.
“I am Madam, thank you,” he replied with a deep bow, curious as to why he had been summoned by the mistress of the house.
“Mr Fletcher, I know you have been with Mr Darcy for some years and, therefore, would I be correct in saying you know him well?”
“Yes madam, I would agree with that statement,” he said, still puzzled.
Fletcher had an air of authority about his person and having the ear of Mr Darcy put him at the top of the pecking order amongst the servants, after the Reynolds, of course. Elizabeth was embarrassed by what she now had to lay before him, but she needed an ally, and it must be Fletcher.
“Good. Then you must agree that there has been a considerable change in his mood and habits since we returned to Pemberley?”
“Yes, ma’am, and not for the better,” he answered honestly.
“Fletcher, I am going to trust you with a tale. My hope is you will assist me in my endeavour to restore Mr Darcy to his former visage.” “If not better,” she added under her breath.
Elizabeth knew Darcy trusted this man implicitly, and she must do the same if her plan was to have a favourable outcome. As she imparted the events of Lucas Lodge, and what had transpired between them last evening, she could not meet his gaze, acutely aware of the deep blush that stained her cheeks. Finally, when she had completed her narration, she raised her eyes and saw that Fletcher’s brows were drawn together in a frown.
“You do not seem shocked or surprised by my tale, Fletcher.”
“Madam, may I speak freely,” and he continued before she could reply, “You are correct; Mr Darcy has not been himself of late. Normally I would not break a confidence, but you should know that when the master has imbibed a little too freely, he is apt to be quite liberal and verbal with his thoughts.”
Elizabeth raised a brow and nodded for him to continue.
“I had gleaned a little of the events leading to his morose mood while going about my duties. In unguarded moments, he has professed you should ‘trust him and confess all.’ Then he would take you in his arms and shower you with his forgiveness in the most,” and pausing to clear his throat before finishing “physical of ways.”
Elizabeth felt the renewal of the heat in her cheeks.
“Let me assure you Fletcher, and all the servants at Pemberley, my affections are engaged to their fullest in regards to Mr Darcy. Now, we have to set about clearing up this mess, will you help me?”
“I am your most obedient, and trustworthy servant, Mrs Darcy,” he said, bowing low while holding her gaze.
“Excellent. Then this is what we must do…”
CHAPTER 31
Darcy walked to the stables with leaden steps. He had again imbibed too freely last night and was now the recipient of a thumping headache, but he knew he must be gone from the house before Elizabeth was abroad. She had tried to speak to him last evening, but his pride had won the day, and he had angrily rebuffed her attempt to explain. His pride was one of the traits she had
based her refusal on when he had first proposed, yet here he was hiding behind it again. It would not do, he thought, kicking at the ground.
His steward was waiting to ride out with him, but Darcy was in no mood for company. In one smooth move, he mounted his horse and kicked his heels into Nelson’s flanks, racing out of the yard towards the woods. Darcy urged the thoroughbred on faster and faster as he headed to the trees. His destination was a small secluded clearing where an array of wildflowers bloomed each year. In its midst was a freshwater spring that wound its way down to feed the lake. At this time of year, you could find patches of winter heliotrope and yellow jasmine. It was a favourite place of his, and when duty permitted, Darcy would go there to think or while away a pleasant afternoon. He hoped to share it with Elizabeth, thinking she too would appreciate its beauty and tranquillity. There seemed little chance of that now.
As he neared his destination, he slowed Nelson to a trot and eventually a walk. Both rider and steed were covered in mud and sweat from their exertion. Darcy dismounted and retrieved a large carrot from his coat pocket, having picked it up from the kitchen before he left. He dropped the reins and walked over to a group of low rocks. Finding his favourite stone, he eased himself down to sit on it, picking a jasmine bloom as he did so. He gave it a shake to dislodge the dusting of snow from its petals; tomorrow the snow would be thick on the ground. He twiddled it between his finger and thumb, then pulled at its yellow petals, saying, “She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not, she loves me.” With only one petal remaining, he gave a derisory huff and pulled it from its resting place.
“She loves me not.”
Looking down at the now naked stem, he sighed,
“Even nature conspires against me.”
Having secured her acceptance of his proposal, not once, but twice, Darcy thought that Elizabeth had finally begun to love him. She no longer acted like a trapped animal when in his embrace but responded with a naive passion that made him ache to teach her more. The image of Elizabeth and Richard standing close together again invaded his thoughts, and he threw the wilting stem to the ground. Had she refused an offer from Richard while at Rosings and now regretted it? Maybe it was because he could not offer her the power or prestige that came with being Mrs Darcy. No, he knew Elizabeth well enough not to lie that at her door. Was it that her affection for Fitzwilliam had only emerged after she had given her promise to him? Unlikely, he thought, considering he had given Elizabeth the opportunity to recant, and she had declined. Could it be she was under pressure from her parents to continue with the engagement? Their match had certainly enhanced the other sister’s prospects. He gave a heavy sigh; he could not fathom it. Having made his decision to remove himself to the continent, he must also give Elizabeth the chance to say her piece. Perhaps then he would feel less betrayed, and the healing of his heart could begin.
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