by Abbey North
She accepted his words without protest, taking his arm when he offered it. Her sleeve was slightly damp, but it wasn’t enough to be bothersome.
They returned to the house without speaking, and he escorted her to the stairs that would lead to her wing. He thought about accompanying her to her door, which would have been the polite thing to do, but he feared it was far too much temptation. He cleared his throat and nodded to her. “Good night, Lizzy.”
Standing a few feet above him, they were almost even in height now, and it wouldn’t take much for her to lean forward and kiss him. He found himself hoping for that outcome, though he knew it was unlikely.
Instead, her lips just moved into a small smile. “Thank you for showing me the pond, Fitzwilliam. We shall figure out more about our investigation tomorrow morning.”
He nodded his agreement and watched her walk up the stairs, conscious of what a fine figure she cut. When she had disappeared from his gaze, he turned to take the other set of stairs that led to his wing of the house.
He was going to wash off before going to bed, and he decided he would not send for his valet to bring him warm water. Instead, he would make do with the cold water that was left from yesterday morning, assuming his valet hadn’t emptied the pitcher yet. The basin would of course be empty already. He needed the water to be as cold as possible to help control the shocking thoughts occurring to him.
He waited for Lizzy to join him for breakfast the next morning, unsurprised when she slipped down a few minutes past him, though it was still early. They had the breakfast room to themselves, and as she buttered her roll, he said, “I shall go into Lambton to the tavern today and ask about Mr. Terrence’s visits there.”
“That is an excellent idea. I was going to suggest such a thing myself. Do you suppose we can slip in after dinner, or should we try to visit before?”
He frowned at her. “I shall be going alone, and likely before the dinner hour.”
She frowned at him. “You shall likely find looser tongues if you allow them to imbibe a bit longer first, Mr. Darcy. I propose we visit after the meal. We can have tea with the general company, and then I shall excuse myself early. You can leave a short time after me, and we will meet at the carriages.”
He scowled at her, speaking firmly. “Your plan is good, except for one oversight.”
She seemed annoyed by the possibility, but she opened her eyes wider. “What have I overlooked?”
“A properly bred young woman like yourself will not be going to the tavern with me, Miss Bennet.” He deliberately spoke in repressive tones, hoping to shame her for the suggestion.
It didn’t work, and she continued to proffer ideas about how she might insert herself into the questioning throughout breakfast, but he was determined to shut down each idea she had. The idea of taking her into the tavern was appalling, and not just for her reputation. She had seen things no fine young woman should have to, and she’d been involved with some sordid business during their acquaintance, but he refused to expose her to such iniquity voluntarily.
She was forced to subside with her wilder and wilder suggestions as Georgiana joined them. Deliberately wanting to keep his sister there, he engaged her in conversation as they discussed what to do about the horses, and what features they would like in the new stables. He invited Lizzy to share her opinion on several occasions, and she seemed surprised by that, but she haltingly offered her viewpoints each time he inquired.
Perhaps she didn’t realize it, but he was offering her the opportunity to ensure the stables met her needs as well. She wasn’t a horsewoman, but he was determined to make her one after their marriage—and he was clinging to optimism that might still be possible. After all, she’d agreed to come to Pemberley, and she seemed far more open to him than she ever had. She was giving him a second chance, and he intended to make the most of it.
Fitzwilliam arranged to keep himself busy for the rest of the afternoon mainly so he could avoid another private conversation with Lizzy as she tried to cajole him into accepting her presence at the tavern. Since he was determined that wouldn’t happen, it seemed wiser to stay away from her for the afternoon.
Fortunately, there were many duties to which he must attend, including helping plan the new temporary structure and send a missive to the builder who had built his mother’s hermitage seventeen years ago. That was the last major renovation that had been done, since smaller tasks could be handled by local tradesmen, but he felt it prudent to have a classically trained architect design the building for them, though he was likely to put local people in charge of building it.
Dinner was more subdued than the night before. Lady Catherine had taken a tray in her room, and Fitzwilliam was happy to have her absent. His aunt was a disapproving and exacting woman, and she was hardly helpful for ensuring good digestion.
After dinner, when Charles started to suggest port, he shook his head. “I have a bit of a headache. I think I shall try a cup of tea to see if it relieves it.” Lizzy’s suggestion to excuse herself was a good one, and he intended to co-opt that, though he regretted the need to foil her participation. She’d had good ideas about when to approach as well, and he knew it was unfair not to include her, but how could he allow her to enter the tavern with him?
After drinking half of a cup of tea, and watching Lizzy the entire time, he said, “I do believe I shall excuse myself. I have a headache tonight.”
“It is likely all the smoke,” said Fanny Bennet. “I feel like I am constantly on the verge of tears today, and my nose is dreadfully stuffy.”
Apparently, she didn’t realize sharing that information was a little indelicate, but Darcy was happy for her remark, and he seized upon it. “No doubt, that is why I have a headache.”
Lizzy and Jane both spoke at the same time then, “So do I.”
He would have suspected it was some kind of subterfuge, but since Jane had said the words almost at the same time as Lizzy, and Lizzy seemed as surprised as he did, he decided he was being paranoid. “I would not be surprised if we all have some lingering effects of the exposure to all that smoke.”
“I have had a dreadful tickle in my chest all day,” said Anne.
“Perhaps we should end the evening early,” said Lizzy. “I do not know about the rest of you, but I could stand an early night.”
The only voice of dissent was Lydia, and she quickly fell silent upon realizing everyone else was in favor of the plan. Darcy admired how Lizzy had maneuvered them all, but he found himself genuinely wondering if she had a headache. His wasn’t entirely contrived, and he worried for her health.
Darcy went to his room and waited twenty minutes before going downstairs again. As he walked to the carriage house, having already sent directions to his driver to be waiting for him, he half-expected Lizzy to pop out.
There was no sign of her, and he was almost disappointed that she wasn’t trying to maneuver around his embargo of her attendance. It was a strange reaction, though he was certain he had made the right decision by not allowing her to accompany him, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t feeling slightly imbalanced that she wasn’t there.
He opened the carriage, once again thoroughly inspecting it, because he almost expected to find Lizzy hiding inside. She wasn’t there, and he accepted his disappointment with a strong measure of relief. He didn’t want to have to take time to argue with her. Still, he was surprised at her acquiescence.
They were underway soon enough, and as the coach’s lantern lit the way ahead of them while Pemberley’s lights faded in the distance, he jerked upright when he heard a voice say, “Oi, guvnor, stop.”
With a sound of protest from both Darcy’s driver and the horses, the carriage suddenly jolted, and the driver brought them to an abrupt halt. “What are you on about, boy?” His driver sounded annoyed, but it changed to outrage when he said, “You cannot do that.”
A second later, Darcy realized what that was when the door opened, and the young lad clambered inside. He frown
ed, appalled at the breach of decorum. He was about to dress down the young man when he met his gaze under the oversized top hat and recognized a very fine pair of eyes.
His mouth dropped open in shock, and he was irritated as he said, “How dare you?” Even as he chastised her, he couldn’t help admiring both her brazenness in dressing like a boy, and her thought processes leading her to that to start with.
She grinned at him, unrepentant, and he marveled that she had a curly mustache on her lip.
His driver opened the door, clearly working himself into a lather, and Darcy put up a hand. “It is all right, Jensen. The young lad has an injury and requires transport to Lambton. I have agreed.”
His driver seemed troubled. “That is most kind of you, Mr. Darcy. The scallywag should have had the decency to at least ask me before climbing into the carriage though.” He shot a sour look at Lizzy.
She nodded. “I apologize, Mr. Jensen,” she said in a voice that was a few octaves lower than usual. It sounded like it might pain her slightly.
To Darcy, it wasn’t at all convincing of a masculine voice, but the driver seemed to notice nothing unusual. No doubt, he saw a young man and was prepared to accept that, especially in his current state of ire. With a mutter under his voice that no one could understand, but Darcy realized was probably not entirely polite, the driver closed the door, and the carriage rocked a moment later as he returned to his seat. Soon, they were underway again.
Once they were, Lizzy moved from the seat across to sit beside him, leaning against him. “Mr. Darcy, thank you for the ride.” She fluttered her lashes at him.
It was slightly disconcerting to see the feminine gesture while she was wearing a mustache, and he lifted a finger as he poked at it gingerly. “Where in the world did you get that?”
Lizzy giggled. “I cut about an inch off my hair, and then I stole some gum paste from the kitchen and used it to apply the hair. I do not know how long my mustache will last, but hopefully for the next couple of hours during our endeavor.”
He frowned at her severely. “It shall last quite long while you wait in the carriage, I am certain.”
She put out her lip and pouted at him. “Come on, Fitzwilliam. Your objection was taking me as a young lady into a tavern. If I am just your servant boy, what is the harm?”
“The harm is, you are trying to manipulate me.”
She grinned at him, clearly unabashed. “Is it working?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “No. I shall not risk your safety.”
She frowned. “What could happen to me as a young man entering a tavern? I swear I shall not have a single sip of the devil’s rum.”
“Indeed, you shall not, and you shall not move away from my side. Do you understand?”
Her eyes sparkled. “You concede I may assist you?”
He huffed a sigh, realizing how neatly she had finessed him. “I concede you will likely sneak in right behind me. Short of leaving you tied up in the carriage, I can see no way to foil your determination, so I would prefer to have you in sight and at my side at all times from the beginning.”
“Thank you for being so reasonable, Fitzwilliam.”
He glared at her. “I do not feel all that reasonable right now, Lizzy.”
Her lips twisted into a smile, drawing attention to the strange curly mustache on her face. “Would a kiss bring you into better humor, Mr. Darcy?”
He frowned sternly at her. “I am hardly likely to want to kiss my serving boy.”
“Perhaps I can be more than just your serving boy,” she said in a teasing tone as she leaned closer, brushing her lips against his cheek. It would have been highly pleasurable, save for the ticklish mustache.
He frowned at her severely as he moved a few inches away. “You shall certainly owe me a kiss when this is over, but I would prefer it without the mustache.”
She let out a sigh, looking disappointed as she went back to the seat across him from him. “I did not realize you were such a stickler for propriety, Mr. Darcy.”
He scowled. “I hardly think it is being a stickler that I prefer to kiss you when you are not wearing hair on your lip.”
She grinned at him then. “Just wait until I am older.”
He frowned in confusion. “I do not understand.”
Lizzy laughed. “If I inherit my mother’s curse, you will if you still know me then.”
He was completely mystified by the conversation, and he tried to envision Fanny Bennet using gum paste to stick hair to her upper lip, but it was such a preposterous idea that he found himself laughing instead. He was still annoyed with Lizzy’s neat maneuvering of the situation, but it was difficult, if not impossible, to remain irritated with her.
5
When Lizzy stepped down, she was startled to feel Fitzwilliam’s hands on her hips. Since he had rejected her attempt to kiss him, she was surprised he wanted to touch her in such a fashion until she realized he was simply adjusting her posture.
“Do not walk with such a sway. It is far too effeminate for a young man. You need to walk with your legs slightly apart and your posture looser overall.”
Lizzy made an attempt, and the driver let out a shocked sound. “You poor fellow. I did not realize just how injured you were.” He seemed to have forgiven him some for his impertinence in entering the carriage.
Lizzy was embarrassed that her male walk had come across as an injury, but she decided to go with it. “Thank you for your concern. I have no doubt a pint of ale will do me wonders.” She hoped she’d use the right terminology as she walked behind Mr. Darcy when he moved past her. She was still feeling awkward in her gait, and she was aware of the driver’s sympathetic gaze on her as she stumbled in behind him.
She wasn’t certain what she’d been expecting, but the dimly lit, smoky room was pretty much in line with it. It was filled with men, and the only woman she saw was the barmaid who was moving among the tables. Mr. Darcy approached the counter, and the barkeep looked up. He grunted at them. “What’ll you have?”
“Two ales,” said Mr. Darcy.
There was a quiet murmur going through the crowd, and Lizzy realized everyone was staring at them. No doubt, they recognized Mr. Darcy.
He must have decided to go with that, because he turned to the room. “I am here about Mr. Terrence. I know he spent a great deal of time here, so I felt I should break it to his comrades myself. He was killed yesterday.”
The murmuring intensified, though Lizzy couldn’t tell whether it was more outraged, shocked, or sad.
“I propose we all drink a toast to Mr. Terrence.” He turned back to the barkeep. “I would like to provide a round for everyone.”
Lizzy admired his tactic, realizing that if he were willing to pay for the alcohol, no doubt, a few loose tongues would be happy to indulge and to the point where they might not remain tightlipped.
Over the next several minutes, she was treated to a side of Fitzwilliam she wouldn’t have expected as he took a table, and she sat down beside him, keeping her head down and her hat on to obscure her identity. There was a surprising amount of everyman about him, or at least he was able to adapt to it plausibly, for he settled into conversation with the group.
Mostly, they reminisced about Mr. Terrence, and Lizzy realized most of the people in the room seemed to genuinely like the man. She couldn’t be surprised, since he had seemed so warm upon their only meeting.
Mr. Darcy bought three rounds of drinks for everyone, though he and Lizzy weren’t drinking, before someone revealed anything that was actually useful. A man beside their table said, “Poor Flora is not going to take the news well.”
“Who is Flora?” asked Lizzy in what she hoped was a passably masculine tone.
“She is his favorite at the Bloom and Petal,” said the man.
Lizzy frowned. “I am not familiar with that establishment.”
The man guffawed. “I can hardly be surprised, young man. If you are not old enough to grow your own
mustache yet, you are hardly likely to be interested in visiting Madam Childe’s establishment.”
Lizzy flushed as she realized her mustache hadn’t fooled anyone. With a sigh, she lifted a thumbnail and started to peel off the gum paste. “Try as I might, I cannot grow a mustache,” she said in her forced-masculine tone.
There were sounds of sympathy for her from a few men, and one of the older ones said, “Do not despair, lad. My son Jackie was a full three-and-twenty before he managed to grow an impressive one.”
Lizzy was amazed at the sense of camaraderie, and the sympathy directed toward her. She had imagined men would be sitting around mostly drinking in silence, perhaps exchanging grunts every now and then. She was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t considered men had similar emotions to women, having just assumed they didn’t feel things as strongly rather than realizing perhaps they had to hide them to conform with society.
“Where might the Bloom and Petal be?” asked Mr. Darcy. “I would like to tell this Miss Flora myself.”
“Since I am certain you do not know where it is, it is just down the lane and around the corner,” said the man who had teased Lizzy about her mustache. He was clearly now jesting about Darcy’s professed lack of knowledge of the area. Lizzy found it strange that the master of Pemberley wouldn’t understand the layout of Lambton, but she wasn’t going to say anything, because she thought maybe there was more going on than she understood.
Fitzwilliam looked briefly offended, but he didn’t call the man on his tone or words. Instead, he looked at the barkeep as he laid several more coins on the table. “One more round on me, sir.” He stood up, looking at Lizzy and said, “Come on, Benjamin.”
She got to her feet, trying to walk with a masculine form, but she heard a few snickers around her that assured her she wasn’t successful.
“The poor lad,” said one man in a pseudo-whisper. “He cannot grow a mustache or walk straight. No wonder he has no idea where Madam Childe’s establishment is.”