An Arranged Marriage

by Jan Hahn

  "Very well. That will be all for tonight."

  She curtsied and left the room and not five minutes later I regretted having dismissed her. I should have sent the notes with her to be placed downstairs for delivery first thing tomorrow. It was bad enough form to cancel a dinner party, but on the very day it was to be held must be a grievous breach of manners. I finished up the last note and resolved to take them downstairs myself. Perhaps I would slip into the library while there and find some dull book to help lull me, for I knew in my present mood sleep would be difficult to come by.

  It was after midnight, so I felt safe in leaving my room dressed in gown and robe, for surely everyone had retired by then. At the bottom of the great staircase, I laid the notes on the silver salver where all outgoing messages were left, and walked across the gallery toward the library. I was surprised to see a light coming from the room next to it, the room I knew to be Mr. Darcy's study. The door was open and I wondered if the servant had failed to extinguish the candles. I walked softly; my slippers barely made a sound. I peered through the entry, and there saw Mr. Darcy sitting with his elbows leaning on the desk, his head in his hands. He had discarded his coat and neckcloth. His waistcoat hung open and his shirt was partially unbuttoned. His hair appeared mussed as though he had raked his hands through it over and over again. As I watched, he raised his head and leaned against the high back of the chair, closed his eyes and sighed. A deep frown knit his brows together and I was astonished at the amount of pain I saw canvass his face.

  I started to turn away and go about my first inclination of searching the library shelves for a book, but the haunting look upon his countenance drew me into the room like a siren's song. I cleared my throat and he looked up, surprise evident in his eyes.

  "Pardon me, sir, but you appear ill. Shall I not call a servant to summon the doctor?"

  "No, no."

  "Truly, sir, you are not well. May I get you something for your present distress? A glass of wine, perhaps?"

  He shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal. "I am not ill, Elizabeth. Do not concern yourself."

  I ventured closer and sat on the edge of a chair near the desk. "Will you tell me what is troubling you? May I not be of some assistance?"

  "There is nothing you can do. Indeed, you must leave me, for there is nothing anyone can do tonight." He rose from the desk and walked around it to stand before me, but instead of assisting me to my feet, he chose to sit on the chair next to me. I could see the worry and concern in his eyes, the anguish so apparent on his countenance, and I sensed that he did not wish me to go, in spite of his words to the contrary.

  We sat quietly for a while, but at last I could not keep from speaking. "Mr. Darcy, will you confide in me? Can you not tell me what is causing you such discontent?"

  "I would not burden you, Elizabeth."

  I did something quite daring then. I reached out and took his hand in mine. I held it between my palms and forced him to meet my eyes. "I am your wife, sir. I know that we are not partners in the truest sense, but can we not attempt a beginning? Will you trust me enough to share whatever it is that disturbs you so?"

  His eyes looked like deep pools of black, tortured with worry and yet lightened somewhat at my boldness. He made no reply at first, but gazed into my eyes for the longest time.

  "It is Georgiana," he said at last. "She...I fear she may be in danger and must be removed from London immediately."

  "Danger? From whom?"

  He rose, took a letter from his desk and held it out to me. "This is a blackmail notice. From whom I do not know, but the author knows our family and knows it well. This blackguard threatens to tell Lady Catherine of Wickham's designs on Georgiana, how he almost succeeded in seducing her and eloping to Scotland. You heard my aunt's threats last week. This will surely give her fuel for court action to remove Georgiana from my guardianship. This will provide fodder for the idea that I am unfit and remiss in my duties toward my sister."

  I hastily read the note and was shocked at its contents. How could anyone be so cruel, so hateful as to separate a brother and sister who were devoted to each other? And yes, I could well imagine Lady Catherine using such knowledge to have her way in the matter. She did not take defeat with grace and her venom would only be enflamed with such revelation.

  "Do you not have the slightest suspicion as to who might have knowledge of this occurrence?"

  "The only people who know are the parties involved, along with Colonel Fitzwilliam, you and I, and, of course, Mrs. Younge."

  "Could she have written the note?"

  "She could, but why? She knows nothing of Lady Catherine's desire to take Georgiana from me. How could she be privy to that intelligence?"

  My heart went out to him. What a heavy burden he bore. How foolish I had been to let my anger erupt when he was laden with worry. "What shall you do?"

  "Remain here and search out the person or persons who have made the threat. As you can see from the note, I am to leave the funds they demand at the designated drop on Saturday next."

  "And shall you pay them, sir? I cannot fathom rewarding such scoundrels!"

  "I have little choice right now. I met with my barrister most of the day, along with a trusted detective he recommends. We arranged to have the meeting place watched and hope to discover the blackmailer. What I do not know is how to find the informant. I suspect it may be someone here in my own house, a suspicion I find most alarming."

  "In your own house? But why?"

  "Because of the anger and pitch of her voice, Lady Catherine's threats were heard throughout the house last week. I have not the slightest doubt every servant in the place knows of the situation. I must find out who it is that would betray us."

  He began to pace again. I watched him for some time, my own thoughts in a whirl. Who could it be? Mr. Darcy treated his servants well. How could any one of them turn against him in a traitorous manner? And yet, throughout history the lure of silver has corrupted many a man or woman. My thoughts darted back and forth searching for any means of discovering a malcontent among the household, when all of a sudden the recollection struck me; the memory I had tried so hard to forget washed over me.

  "Sir, I...I must tell you something."

  "What is it?"

  "Some weeks ago, I overheard two of the servants talk, gossip actually, and one of them exhibited anger towards you. I do not want to accuse anyone unduly, but you might begin your investigation with him."

  "Tell me exactly what you heard."

  I blanched at repeating the ugly words spoken against him and bit my bottom lip.

  "Elizabeth? It is vital that you tell what you remember."

  I nodded and, taking a deep breath, I repeated the under-gardener's scurrilous remarks about Mr. Darcy and Fiona. He began to pace again, placing his hand at his mouth, knitting his brows into an even fiercer scowl than before. "And do you know who the man was that said these things?"

  I shook my head. "No, sir, for I did not see him. All I know is that the other servant called him Johnny."

  "Johnny? We have more than one servant by that name. What about the stable hand who supposedly told Johnny in the first place? Did you learn his name?"

  "No." I felt sad to see his disappointment. I watched him retrace his steps back and forth until I wondered if the carpet would be permanently indented from his desperate walk. I finally rose and, placing my hand on Mr. Darcy's arm, I stopped him. "What else can I do to assist you, sir? Is there not some way I might help?"

  "You can help me by doing as I ask, Elizabeth. Take Georgiana to Pemberley where she will be safe. I have asked Fitzwilliam to accompany you and I have not the slightest doubt that he will protect her on the journey. I trust my staff in the country implicitly, for they have been in my service for years. I shall feel much relief to have my sister tucked away in Derbyshire, rather than here in town. And pray, do not tell her of this threat. I do not want her frightened."

  "But what reason have you given
her for this sudden trip?"

  "I told her I had changed my mind and wanted both of you out of the city, what with winter coming on and disease rampant during the cold weather, which is not an untruth."

  "And she accepted this without further explanation?"

  "My sister is accustomed to obeying me." He smiled slightly. "You could learn from her example, and if you will do so in this regard, I shall rest easier."

  I blushed, wondering if he had read my mind earlier. Did he know how angry I had become when ordered about? "I confess obedience does not come easy to me, sir, especially when I am given orders without reason." We stared at each other and by the turn of his countenance, it appeared that he understood my application, and so I did not allow my earlier disappointment further reign.

  "In this matter, however," I said softly, "I shall do as you say. I only regret that I cannot do more, for I do not like to see your countenance consumed with anguish."

  He closed his eyes and turned away, but then returned his gaze to me and when he spoke, his voice was tender and low. "Your compassion does you credit. I am not in the habit of being so cared for. I find I quite like it."

  We stood very close to each other and I suddenly remembered that I was in a state of undress when I saw his eyes roam over my figure. He took my hand and my skin burned at the warmth of his touch. This time he was the one to enclose my hand within both of his and I found that I liked the way his large hands completely covered mine, making it feel small and protected. With his thumb, he began to rub circles around and around my palm and I suddenly found my breathing somewhat constricted.

  "Elizabeth," he said very softly, almost in a husky whisper.

  "Yes," I murmured, never taking my eyes from his.

  "You should go to bed. It is late."

  "Yes, I suppose I should."

  "You must arise early."

  "Yes, very early."

  Neither of us moved to act upon our words. His gaze traveled from my eyes to my mouth and back to my eyes, as they had done the night of the ball. I felt a longing well up deep within me with a force I had never felt before, a quickening within the pit of my stomach that only added fuel to that yearning. I wanted him to kiss me - oh, how I wanted him to kiss me - and I wondered if that was the same desire I saw reflected in his dark eyes.

  "Leave me," he pleaded, his voice utterly ragged, but he still neither moved nor released my hand.

  "Yes," I whispered and then without thought, I reached up with my free hand and touched his face. I felt its flushed heat and drew my fingers along his jaw. And then I kissed his cheek. It was the most natural impulse I had ever experienced. When I drew back, he searched my eyes, his breath coming short and hard. And then he closed his lips upon mine, slowly, softly searching his way until my lips parted and I tasted heaven for the first time in my life.

  I felt the room whirl around me, my whole body tremble as I clung to his hands. At last he gently released my lips. Neither of us moved; our eyes gazed at each other, both of us too filled with emotion to move or speak. I could not even think, for my senses flooded my entire being. He still held my hand, I knew that much for I could feel the pressure of his thumb tracing circles in that same maddening, probing pattern, and finally he looked down at it.

  "Such a little hand," he whispered, and placing it next to his lips, he kissed it tenderly, while once again gazing into my eyes. "Go," he said softly, and released me.

  I nodded and turned woodenly. Somehow I found my way to the door and up the stairs to my chamber.

  If I said that I slept much that night, it would be a lie, for my thoughts, my feelings, my senses, every nerve in my body was so intensely alive that I could find ease in neither bed nor pillow. I could not fathom all that had happened that evening. My emotions had run the gamut from fierce anger to...to what? Was this feeling of unbearable excitement and joy actually love for Mr. Darcy? I did not know, I truly did not know. I just knew that the last thing I wanted was to be sent to Pemberley, to be out of his sight, unable to see his face, hear his voice, and give him comfort. Was that love?

  And what about Georgiana? Who could wish to harm her? Who would want to cause Mr. Darcy such distress? Over and over again I went over the blackmail note in my mind, searching for any clue that might stand out, that might enable me to assist my husband in solving this terrifying riddle. My husband - I had come to think of him as my husband for the first time.

  And then those delicious memories of his kiss flooded my body once again and I relived the sensation. I pondered how and why it had happened, and wondered when and if it ever would again.

  ~ * ~

  Fiona awakened me before dawn by lighting a candle and laying the fire. I shivered in the cold morning as I washed my face with the water she poured into the china basin. She helped me dress and as I sat down to do up my buttons, she began to brush my hair and pin it up with the expertise she possessed. Another knock at the door caused me to turn in expectation, hoping against hope that it was Mr. Darcy, but I was disappointed to see it was only another servant bearing a tray containing my breakfast. She said the master had ordered light meals for Georgiana and me to be served in our rooms. I looked at her closely and wondered if that girl from the kitchen perhaps might be the spy in our employ, the one who had assisted Mr. Darcy's blackmailer with news of Lady Catherine's threats. But she was a simple girl, dull of manner and wit, and one I would never suspect clever enough to carry out such a scheme. Ashamed of my suspicions, I spoke kindly and thanked her for the meal.

  After eating and gathering a few books Fiona had failed to pack the night before, I was ready to don my coat and bonnet.

  "Here you go, Ma'am," she said, holding out my coat for me. "The master bid me have you ready to go by 6:00 o'clock and it be nigh onto it."

  "Yes, Fiona, call the footman and have him gather my bags. Then you must hurry and get your things together so that you and your child will not miss the deadline, either. I am sure the servants' coach will travel right behind that of Miss Georgiana and myself."

  "I beg your pardon, Ma'am?" The maid looked at me as though I spoke French.

  "Your bags, Fiona, yours and Willie's. You cannot travel to Derbyshire without your things. Come, hurry! Do not wait for me. I can manage from here."

  "But Ma'am, I am not going to Derbyshire with you."

  I stopped tying the ribbons of my bonnet. "What? Are you not moving to Pemberley as my maid?"

  "Eventually, Ma'am, when it is the master's wish. But for now, he bid me stay here in London until he is ready to leave the city. I will travel when the master does."

  The footman knocked at the door and she turned her attention to assist him in carrying my trunks below stairs. As they left the room, I found myself sink onto the bed. What possible reason could Mr. Darcy have to keep Fiona here with him? She was my maid, after all. And then the old fears crowded into my mind. I could see Willie's dark eyes and hair, the soft look about Mr. Darcy's expression when he played with him in the garden, and his refusal to reveal the identity of the child's father. I suddenly recalled that when I had repeated the servant's hateful gossip last night, it had angered Mr. Darcy, but he had never denied it.

  I felt sick to my stomach and it was all that I could do not to lose the breakfast I had just eaten. What kind of man had I married and what sort of game was he playing? Sending me off with the memory of his tender kiss and yet keeping his mistress and child here with him?

  I walked down the stairs with a heart as heavy as the trunks carried before me. Just outside the entry I saw Colonel Fitzwilliam mounted on his horse, ready to ride escort while Mr. Darcy assisted Georgiana into the carriage. I steeled myself not to show any emotion, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he had hurt me.

  "Elizabeth." He held out his hand to help me into the carriage.

  I refused to look at him and ignored his outstretched hand. Instead, I reached for the side of the coach and climbed the steps without assistance. "Good morning, Ge
orgiana," I said, seating myself on the far side of the carriage and turning my face to the opposite window.

  "Good-bye, Wills," Georgiana cried. "Come soon."

  "Yes...yes, I will come as soon as possible."

  I could hear the confusion in his voice, but I did nothing to alleviate it. I gave him no greeting; I took no leave of him; I refused to even glance his way as I heard him say to the driver, "Walk on," his voice possibly cracking somewhat. I felt little sympathy for him, for I could feel my own heart breaking, shattering into a million tiny pieces.

  Chapter 9

  Fortunately, Georgiana slept through the first hours of the journey. I was relieved to be spared the agony of making conversation when all I wished to do was weep. The reprieve allowed me to wallow in my misery, and wallow I did. How could I have allowed myself to let down my guard, to permit Mr. Darcy entrance into my heart when even yet I did not know the depth of his character? I brooded over Fiona's words, "I will travel when the master does."

  What reason could he have to send me off and yet keep her with him other than the vile, ugly thought now breaking my heart? She was his mistress after all and Willie his child - I must become reconciled to that truth no matter how much I hated it. And yet it went against every single thing I had learned about Mr. Darcy in the short time we had been married. Indeed, it ran contrary to what I knew of him even before our marriage. Had he not condemned Wickham for his dissolute ways and for attempting to meddle with his own sister? Could he, in turn, be as false and low? Was he nothing more than a hypocrite?

  Once again, I thought back to the letter Mr. Darcy had given me months ago in Rosings Park. Jane still had not found it among my belongings at Longbourn, but she had written that she would continue her search. I wanted to re-read it, to consider it carefully as I had not taken the time to do so before. I recalled the feelings of mortification I had gone through when first I read it, for I had misjudged Wickham's character entirely. Could it be possible that I now did the same to Mr. Darcy? Or had I been fooled by him, flattered by his attentions, and wooed by the memory of his affection last evening?