Unforgiving Temper

by Head, Gail

  “My lord, time is a luxury I do not have at the moment. I could not live with myself if my father…if something happened to my father before I could see him again.”

  “I have already dispatched a letter instructing my doctor in London to attend your father. He is one of the best physicians in the country and will do everything possible for him. If the doctor finds the situation is critical, I shall personally take you there without delay.”

  “Your doctor?” Elizabeth blinked. “My family could never afford – ”

  “Neither your family nor you need be concerned with the expense. I am happy to do it. It is a small price to pay if it can ease your anxiety in any way.” He leaned toward her with a crooked smile. “Besides, all this distressing business has had a rather disturbing effect upon your charming countenance, and we cannot have that, can we?”

  “Oh,” was all she could say. She felt the color flooding her cheeks and looked away, carefully avoiding his gaze. “I thank you once again for your generosity; but I can only accept your help with the understanding that any money spent on my behalf will be repaid as soon as I am able.”

  “Very well, I shall consider you in my debt,” his smile deepened. “And I shall be pleased to have you so.”

  Elizabeth stared at him in amazement, trying to determine what response she could give to such a provocative statement. Propriety required that she object to his words, and avoid any suggestion of owing him a personal debt; and yet, to deny that he was doing her a tremendous service, at great trouble and expense to himself, would be impossibly rude. Why, or why, had he placed her in the position of having to acknowledge the great debt she owed him for his aid?

  Propriety allowed her to neither object nor acquiesce; and so Elizabeth changed the subject. “What will you do to retrieve the letters, sir?”

  “I have already sent a message, and as soon as it can be arranged, I shall meet with Wickham.”

  “He will not give them up easily,” Elizabeth murmured. “They keep me at Everton and my position here seems to be vital to his scheme.”

  “I have no doubt of my success, Miss Bennet. I can be very persuasive.”

  “Can he be spared from the militia long enough to make the journey? If they are still at Brighton, it would take four days to reach Everton.”

  “He is not coming to Everton. London will be the most logical location for negotiations and I am keeping you as far away from him as I can. You will stay here with Rebecca.”

  “London!” Elizabeth exploded. “You must take me with you.”

  “Absolutely not! Did you not hear what I just said? I am keeping you out of his reach.”

  “You may want to, but I refuse to sit idle, hundreds of miles away when my family's very existence is in peril.”

  “You will do exactly that!”

  “No, I will not! We both know Mr. Wickham cannot be trusted, and I am the only one that can verify the authenticity of my sister's letters. You must take me with you.”

  Infuriated once again at her obstinacy, Grissholm rose from his chair, glaring at her across the desk. “For once, would you just do as I say without debating the issue?” The stubborn set of her mouth gave him his answer. The woman was unbearably vexing at times – but deliciously alluring at the same time. He was certain a lifetime with her would never be dull.

  Elizabeth glared back at him, refusing to be intimidated. “You are undertaking a great deal of trouble and expense to save my foolish sister, my father, and indeed my entire family. It is only right that I should accompany you and offer whatever help I can.”

  They remained locked in yet another battle of wills as Grissholm silently studied her earnest expression. Her brows arched defiantly above deeply passionate brown eyes and the soft curve of her lips spread into a tight smile, causing his heart to beat hard against his chest. Even in the heat of battle, she was lovely – and she wanted to be by his side. How could he refuse that? He could not.

  Releasing a small sigh of surrender, he broke the impasse.

  “Very well, you shall go. It will take a little longer to make the necessary arrangements, but unless we receive news that would take us to Hertfordshire, we shall all go to London, even Rebecca.”

  He was rewarded with a brilliant smile that nearly felled him and he exerted great effort to bring his mind back to the matter at hand.

  “But I will have your word that you shall not attempt to see Wickham or speak one word to him. It is too dangerous. I will not give way on that point. You are to verify the letters once I have them in my possession – and that is all!”

  Elizabeth was only too happy to agree. She was going to London! Not only would she be out from under Wickham's power, but she would be close enough to reach Longbourn and her father in a matter of hours instead of days.

  “My lord, you may rest easy on that point; and I think I may safely promise never to speak to Mr. Wickham again!”

  * * * *

  The afternoon sun seeped through the windows, casting broad shafts of light across the shadowy interior of the room as Elizabeth sat staring at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. Her maid silently entered the room, bringing a current of air that stirred the skirt of the beautiful dress hanging on the closet door and Elizabeth's eyes were drawn to it. The pale blue gossamer satin gown, its edges richly ornamented with tiny silver designs, glittered enticingly in the sunlight and Elizabeth frowned.

  It was a beautiful dress, but it had been made to satisfy the viscount's expectations more than her own. She had not wanted it. Her cream sarsnet gown would have served just as well.

  Elizabeth drew a long sigh and turned away from the dress, looking instead to another recent addition, the girl who had become her personal maid. As she watched Molly busily preparing a bath, she tried to determine when it was that his lordship had come to be so attentive. The condition had come about so gradually that she really could not determine an exact time. All she knew was that it had gone on far too long, and now she did not know how to stop it – or even if she wanted to.

  Lord Grissholm's disagreeably cold and indifferent manners she had encountered when first coming to Everton were now charming and engaging, especially when he cared to apply himself – which he did quite often. It was a pleasant transformation for the most part, but there were times his interest extended beyond what she would have liked.

  That thought brought another sigh and she looked back to the dress she would wear to Sir Henry Gerring-Smythe's private ball. 'The affair will be nothing grand, I assure you,' Lord Grissholm had said. 'Just a few families from the neighborhood. An opportunity for Rebecca to see what is expected of her. She will not dance, of course, but it will help accustom her to the society of her peers.' In spite of the viscount's reassuring words, Elizabeth could not help feeling there was more to tonight's foray into Cumberland society than just Rebecca.

  Within two hours, Elizabeth was nearly ready to join the others below in the drawing room. She watched her reflection in the mirror as Molly gathered the last of her chestnut curls, deftly weaving the silky ribbon in and out before pinning the locks tightly to the back of her head. Finishing her work by adorning Elizabeth's ears with a dainty pair of exquisite sapphire earrings, Molly stepped back admiringly.

  “You look wonderful, Miss Bennet. The master was right to insist on the blue. It's the perfect color for you!” she beamed.

  “Thank you, Molly,” Elizabeth answered, still looking at herself with a critical eye, “but I am sure the cream would have done just as well; particularly since it would have left a little more to the imagination!”

  Not only had Elizabeth objected to the idea of a new dress, but the much lower neckline and the emphasis to her figure was a little too French for her taste, even if it was the latest fashion.

  “I'm sorry about that, Miss, I really am; but I couldn't disobey the master. I just couldn't!”

  “I know, and you were quite right not to listen to me. I just feel a little overdone, that is all.
At least you have kept my hair to my liking. As for the rest, I shall just have to make the best of it.” Elizabeth gave the maid a reassuring smile and then walked out of her room. Perhaps if she didn't look in another mirror for the rest of the evening, she would forget her appearance.

  She could not have been more wrong.

  Entering the drawing room, Elizabeth stopped short as Lord Grissholm's appreciative gaze swept over her. His eyes were more revealing than any mirror, and his approving look brought a heightened glow to her now flushed cheeks. She could not decide if the accelerated beating of her heart was a welcome response or not.

  Fortunately, Rebecca appeared just then, her own youthful beauty enhanced by an elegant gown of fine white India muslin. The viscount complemented her as well in an uncommon show of attention, making the girl fidget nervously under his brief inspection.

  Much to both ladies' relief, Newcomb stepped into the room, announcing the arrival of the carriage, and Grissholm quickly ushered the two women toward the front door.

  Rebecca linked arms with Elizabeth and leaned close as they walked. “You are beautiful, Elizabeth!” she whispered softly.

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth mouthed back, giving the girl a smile of gratitude as his Lordship hastened them into the carriage.

  It was not a long ride to Hartley Park, the ancestral home of their host, Sir Henry. Within half an hour Lord Grissholm was handing them out of the warm carriage and into the cool night air.

  Offering his assistance as the ladies ascended the steps to the second floor, Elizabeth's hand unconsciously tightened on Grissholm's arm. As much as she loved to dance, the stares she attracted before they even reached the ballroom made her feel distressingly conspicuous.

  When they reached their destination, Elizabeth took in the large number of people that filled the dazzling ballroom to capacity. She had not danced since Mr. Bingley's ball, which was nearly…had it really been almost a year now? This room was grander in size and furnishings; but memories of that night at Netherfield flooded her mind all the same, furrowing her brow with the mortifying recollection of her appalling behavior toward Mr. Darcy.

  She gently removed her hand from Lord Grissholm's arm, prompting him to glance down with a curious eye. “Miss Bennet, is anything wrong?”

  “No, not at all! I just had not expected so many people. I can only imagine what you would consider a 'grand' affair!”

  “I trust it has not overwhelmed you?” he asked with a hint of humor.

  She rose to his challenge with an impish grin. “Not in the least, my lord. I believe I can manage quite well regardless of the size of the room; however, my young companion here may be another matter entirely.”

  Rebecca stood stiffly beside them, her eyes staring wide in trepidation at the teeming throng in front of her. Elizabeth moved quickly before the girl became totally paralyzed with fright.

  “Please do not concern yourself, my dear,” Elizabeth murmured encouragingly. “It is not as bad as it looks. Just follow my lead.” Turning to Lord Grissholm, she gave him a meaningful smile. “Would you excuse us, my lord? I believe Rebecca's new friend, Miss Allsop, wishes our company.”

  Grissholm looked at Rebecca with mild disappointment before glancing in the direction Elizabeth indicated. “Of course. I shall not detain you.”

  Keeping her eye on Fanny Allsop, Elizabeth steered Rebecca determinedly across the crowded room. Coming to the side of Rebecca's equally young and intimidated friend, she tried to focus on her two charges. While neither girl would be dancing, it was still their first experience at a ball and this one was daunting enough for any novice. Elizabeth endeavored to put them at ease, explaining what to expect during the evening.

  Glancing about the room, she could not keep her thoughts from returning to her last ball and Mr. Darcy. Memories of their dance together loomed large, and she felt the familiar sting of regret that had plagued her from the moment Mr. Darcy's letter exposed her foolish prejudice.

  At one time, he had regarded her favorably. Had he not made her an offer, astonishing as it was? And he had trusted her with the knowledge of his sister's troubles, even after her abominable abuse in Charlotte's parlor. She was certain he played a part in Mr. Bingley's return to Netherfield, but all this was before Mr. Wickham had turned her world upside down. Time and distance had blurred everything in her mind and, in truth, she had now come to believe the worst. His regard for me has been justly reconciled and his good opinion is lost forever. The worst of it is knowing that he is somewhere in the world and thinking ill of me.

  She shook herself slightly, refusing to dwell on circumstances that could not be undone. It was not likely she would ever see him again and it would not do to remain in a quagmire of lamentable memories.

  Pushing all thought of Mr. Darcy out of her mind once and for all, she drew a deep, cleansing breath, determined to enjoy everything an evening at Hartley Park had to offer.

  * * * *

  “Darcy, I am surprised you agreed to come at all,” said Robert Driscoll, descending from their carriage. “You certainly never showed any interest at Cambridge!”

  “That was then, my friend,” replied Darcy. “It is possible for one to change, you know. I was at Pritchard Abbey just last week and I do not think Thomas Nielsen found me wanting at his soiree.”

  “I think you are an imposter, sir! The Darcy I remember would never spend idle weeks gallivanting about the country, giving hope to swooning maidens and scheming mamas. I do not believe it! What has effected this amazing transformation?”

  Darcy had no intention of discussing the real reason for his travels through the north country, so he merely smiled and replied, “Believe it, you must. I have seen the error of my ways and am endeavoring to rectify them, although I think I shall never be as easy in company as you. How do you do it?”

  “Watch and learn, my friend; watch and learn!” Driscoll laughed, setting his bicorn to the precise angle required before leading Darcy up the steps of Hartley Park.

  Chapter 20

  Darcy followed his friend up the steps of Hartley Park, his eyes narrowing in anticipation as he looked up at the row of windows standing open to the night air. Sounds of merriment from Sir Henry's ball drifted out into the darkness. He stifled a weary sigh. How many more of these dreaded affairs would he have to attend before he would find success? The thought of an evening with a roomful of strangers still brought out his reserve in large measure, but he had to admit he was getting better at it. He had learned a hard lesson in Hertfordshire.

  Elizabeth Bennet's frank and honest opinion of his manners had taught him a great deal indeed. His mouth tightened into a thin line. Although it was nearly a year to the day when he had first seen her at the Meryton Assembly, the intervening months – the last three in particular –seemed a lifetime. That he had ever considered her unworthy of his attention was beyond his comprehension.

  A well-worn vision of Elizabeth sprang easily to his mind. Her smile, her wit, her fine eyes that sparkled in her expressive face when she found something amusing – they were all an inseparable part of him now. She was the reason he was here, hundreds of miles from London, renewing old acquaintances and facing strangers with growing equanimity.

  His visit to Robert Driscoll, an old classmate from Cambridge, was one of many in the excruciatingly delicate scheme he had developed to discover Elizabeth. For more than six weeks, he had been making his way through the western counties on the pretense of a tour of the north country, calling upon families he knew. While he attended the obligatory social engagements associated with the visit, Denham would make discreet inquiries of the household staff to determine if a young lady of Elizabeth's description had been seen in the neighborhood.

  It was a cumbersome process; but any more direct approach would have almost certainly alerted Wickham, and Darcy would not run the risk of further harming Elizabeth or her reputation.

  There had been no success to date, but as long as there was a great house to be vis
ited, Darcy would persist. The scarcity of news from the eastern coast told him that Bingley was faring no better. Even though their only clue to finding Elizabeth had been the postal stamp on a letter he had never seen, it was enough for him to know she had to be somewhere in the northern counties.

  And so tonight he was attending Sir Henry's private ball with his friend, Robert…and unlike the time in Hertfordshire, he would dance. He would not be the man he was a year ago. He had labored hard to practice “performing to strangers” in the months since Elizabeth's painfully accurate judgment laid bare this deficiency in his character. As in other areas of his life these days, he would show himself to be a better man, for her sake.

  Entering the room, Darcy flinched involuntarily. “Good heavens, Driscoll, I thought you said this was a small gathering.”

  “It is!” his friend laughed sympathetically. “You should see when they really go all out!”

  “Well, I would say this is closer to a crush than a gathering,” Darcy murmured. “It is a wonder there is any room to dance at all.”

  “Rest assured, Darcy, there is always room for dancing. You will not get off that easily. I will hold you to your promise to dance at least one set. You are not at Cambridge any more, my friend; and you must join the rest of us in assuming the responsibilities of an unattached, eligible male at a ball.”

  “I shall, Driscoll, I shall; but I see there are more than enough gentlemen in attendance so that I need not be in any hurry. I believe it may take some time just to find the dance floor!”

  “Very well, but I refuse to see you sulking on the sidelines for long. He who hesitates finds all the best partners engaged, you know!”

  “Go enjoy the hunt! I shall find you when I am ready to join in the fray.”

  Darcy watched his friend melt effortlessly into the surrounding crowd, returning the enthusiastic greeting of several young ladies in the process. Yes, it was getting less painful to mingle with strangers, but he knew it would be years before his ability to converse would come as easily to him as it did to Driscoll.