by Head, Gail
“Mr. Darcy, I have some news. Will you hear it now?” he spoke softly.
“No! Not here,” Darcy answered, looking warily back to the open door. “Go to my rooms and I shall be up directly.”
Very good, sir,” murmured Denham quietly, then left.
Waiting only a brief moment, Darcy left the library as well. Reining in his eagerness, he ascended the stairs calmly, nodding a greeting to Driscoll as they passed on the landing; but upon reaching his rooms, Darcy quickly stepped inside and shut the door solidly behind him.
He had wrestled with disappointment and frustration for weeks before finally finding Elizabeth, only to have their one brief encounter cut short by Grissholm's interference. The past three days waiting for news that would give him some means of seeing her again had been agonizing. His patience had been stretched to the limit, and now that the opportunity was finally within reach, his questions came more harshly than he intended.
“Tell me, what news? What has Mrs. Vickery discovered?”
Denham showed no offense at the tone. “I fear, sir, that it will not be welcome news. The only kindness I can offer is to tell it quickly. In short, Miss Bennet has quit Everton.”
Darcy stared at Denham, refusing to accept the news. When he finally did acknowledge the truth of Denham's report, it was more than his already-frayed emotions could bear. He lashed out, discharging the full force of his disappointment upon the unfortunate messenger.
“Gone?! Are you certain, absolutely certain? When?!” Darcy's mind raced to put the pieces together. He recalled the smug look that had played on Grissholm's face the entire evening of Driscoll's dinner party. Of course she did not attend, she was already gone!
A fresh wave of fury welled up at the realization of Grissholm's manipulations. He had been duped soundly.
“Good heavens, man! It took three days…three wasted days…to discover her gone? This is not to be endured!” He retreated to the mantel, gripping its edges in brute strength, his breath coming fast and hard in his struggle to contain the anger and frustration raging within him.
After a time, Darcy's breathing returned to normal, leaving the ticking of a clock on the polished mantel to mark the seconds in the silent room. Cautiously, a pale and shaken Denham softly cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, sir. I realize the information was of utmost importance to you, but I assure you the inquiries were made with all haste, giving due consideration to the delicacy of the matter.”
Darcy head snapped up. The valet's defensive undertone made him realize how desperate he had become. Had the immense strain of the past several weeks been so great as to rob him of the most common of courtesies to his faithful servant? He was instantly apologetic. “I am sorry, Denham. It was wrong of me to lay any blame when you were only acting on my instructions. You have always given me the best of service, and I ask that you accept my apology.”
Denham's astonished, then embarrassed expression told Darcy he was forgiven. “It is quite all right, sir. I understand completely and am happy to do whatever I can. Mrs. Vickery reports that the two young ladies left Everton Manor the morning after Sir Henry's ball. They are not expected to return any time soon.”
“Well, that gives new meaning to a lot of things now,” Darcy breathed bitterly. “It is clear that Grissholm was deliberately keeping Miss Bennet and her whereabouts a mystery. The question is why…and where did she go?”
“Shall I see if Mrs. Vickery can find out any more, sir?”
“No, I think not. We shall have to move carefully now that Grissholm has shown his hand. It was some years ago, but I have seen what he is capable of when hard-pressed and I cannot risk Miss Bennet's safety.” Darcy pushed back from the mantel and paced the length of the room before continuing, “I shall make some inquiries of my own. There are not many places he could have sent her.”
Darcy covered the distance to his writing desk in three strides and quickly settled into the chair. With little pause, he reached for paper and pen and began a letter to the one person he knew to have the most complete knowledge of the families in London and the only person he could depend upon to maintain his privacy: his cousin, Richard. Although they had not parted on good terms, Darcy was confident the news that Elizabeth was not with child, nor secluded in a distant farmhouse, would lessen his cousin's objections substantially. He was also certain that the re-appearance of Robert Grissholm in their lives would be an added inducement for Richard to lend his assistance after all.
When the letter was finished, Darcy penned another short note to Bingley, asking that they meet in London as soon as possible. He then raked his hands slowly through his hair, reviewing the unexpected events that had transpired since his arrival in Cumberland. Grissholm is up to something. I can feel it and I intend to find out what it is. I only hope I can do so before Elizabeth does something she will regret.
Chapter 22
John “Elizabeth, do sit down. If you stare out that window much longer, I shall feel obliged to join you in your vigil.”
“Vigil? I am only trying to judge the weather. It looks to be a fine day and I thought we might take a turn in the park later on.”
“It is a fine day,” came Rebecca's soft reply, “but I had thought we might take the carriage to Bond Street this afternoon instead of going to the park. His Lordship said I could buy one of those beautiful Indian shawls we saw at Madam Devereaux's last week. He said that you should have one as well,” she added hopefully.
“He did, did he?” Elizabeth murmured absently, giving the street below one last look before turning away. “I cannot imagine why. I only mentioned how lovely you looked in that shade of blue; and I certainly have no interest in another addition to my wardrobe.”
“Well, he thinks you should have it. He thinks a lot about you, you know.”
“Hmm,” was Elizabeth's only response. Feeling Rebecca's eyes on her, Elizabeth pulled her thoughts away from the street. She would not bring Lord Grissholm back from his meeting with Wickham any sooner by fretting over it.
“Can you not see it?” Rebecca teased with a little smile.
“What?”
“How solicitous his lordship is. The way he speaks to you. The way he makes a point of spending time with you. You must see it!”
Embarrassed, Elizabeth turned back to the window. “How could I not?”
“And?”
“And I am at a loss as to what to think.”
“Forgive me if I am being too forward; but are you pleased with his attentions?”
Elizabeth began to pace the room, her arms wrapping tightly around the strange excitement that always fluttered in her stomach when she considered Lord Grissholm's solicitude.
“Well – I must admit it is flattering. What girl would not be pleased?”
“You are not entirely pleased, though; are you?”
Elizabeth sat down on the satin covered divan next to Rebecca. “I cannot believe his lordship is serious. How can he be? I have nothing of any consequence to offer.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, you do not see yourself as others do. You are charming and beautiful and intelligent and engaging and…and I have never seen Lord Grissholm so much as give a second look to any woman in all the years I have been with him.” Rebecca leaned forward with the eagerness of her youth. “Of course I am not an expert in these matters; but I would not be surprised at all if he were to make an offer to you very soon!”
“Rebecca! You are being ridiculous and I will not hear it!”
“You know it is true!” Rebecca's voice lowered conspiratorially. “What will you do if he does?”
“It is too absurd to even consider!”
“But if he does? Will you accept?”
Elizabeth busied herself once again with her sewing, allowing some time to consider the girl's question.
“One thing I have learned, at a great cost, is not to rush to judgment in any situation, particularly when it comes to a gentleman's feelings. Lord Grissholm has been very kind and attent
ive, but I shall not consider it any more than that.” Elizabeth's firm tone put an end to the subject. “Do not look so disappointed, my dear. I promise that if such a remarkable event should ever occur, you shall be the first to know!”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much!” Rebecca grinned impishly. “Deny it all you want, but I have no doubt he is –” the rest of her words stuck in her throat as Lord Grissholm suddenly appeared in the doorway.
Entering the room with a flourish of good will, he did not notice the two women quickly bend over their sewing a little too diligently. Elizabeth was especially industrious as she struggled to check the wash of pink that had flooded her cheeks.
“Well – I see that you ladies are happily occupied. I trust you have had a good morning?”
“Yes, my lord, we have had a very pleasant morning, haven't we, Rebecca?” Elizabeth answered brightly, creating a sharp contrast to Rebecca's pale silence.
“Y-yes, w-we have. We were just – ,” her voice faded under his direct gaze. Even though she was now able to maintain her composure during most of the increasing social obligations required of her, she continued to be helplessly intimidated whenever Lord Grissholm addressed her.
Elizabeth spoke up, eager to fill the awkward silence left by the tongue-tied Rebecca even though Lord Grissholm did not seem to notice.
“Your lordship, may I enquire about your morning? It was pleasant, I hope?”
“Yes, it was. Thank you for asking,” Grissholm replied lightly. “And now I shall leave you two to your handiwork. I must attend to some pressing business in my study, but I would be happy to accompany you ladies later this afternoon. If I understood Rebecca correctly last evening, I believe you will be making a trip to Madam Devereaux's today?”
Elizabeth was disappointed that his reply held nothing to satisfy her burning curiosity regarding the meeting with George Wickham. She gave him a deliberate, inquisitive look, but he only returned it with a steady, hooded expression. It seemed she would have to wait until he was ready to divulge any news regarding Lydia's letters.
Still, she could not ignore the anticipation that glimmered in Rebecca's pleading eyes and so, with a stifled sigh, she acquiesced to the excursion. One of us might as well enjoy the afternoon, she thought before answering the viscount. “Yes, my lord, we were discussing that very thing just before you arrived. We shall be happy for the company.”
“Very good, then. I look forward to it.” Grissholm gave her a broad smile and offered a small bow. As he left the room, he paused in the doorway but did not turn when he spoke once more. “And Miss Bennet, would you please come to my study in an hour. I have a small matter of business I wish to discuss.”
* * * *
Squeezing her hands together to steady herself, Elizabeth took a deep breath and then knocked lightly on the door to Lord Grissholm's study and waited, casting a quick sidelong glance to the footman standing nearby. At Lord Grissholm's clear, deep command, she stepped into the mahogany-paneled study not knowing what to expect.
While thoughts of Rebecca's recent matrimonial speculations knotted her stomach with apprehension, her real hopes were for an end to the now excruciating separation from her family. Lord Grissholm continued to assure her that her father's condition was stable, and even improving rapidly under the diligent care of his personal physician, but Elizabeth wanted desperately to see him for herself. To be so close yet obliged to wait for the necessary arrangements only added to her frustration.
“Miss Bennet. Very punctual, I see. Please come in.”
“Lord Grissholm, what is it you wish to discuss?”
“And very direct, too. I like that.”
“Please, sir, I beg you, do not trifle with me.”
“Very well, I will tell you my meeting with Mr. Wickham was very productive.”
“What did he say? Has he agreed to give you the letters?”
“He had quite a lot to say, actually, but I shall spare you the embarrassment of repeating any of it. Unfortunately, we have not come to an agreement on the letters as yet.”
“Oh.”
Elizabeth looked at the dark, imposing man sitting behind the massive desk. If she could have found another way to retrieve Lydia's letters without involving him, she would have done so; but Wickham had been thorough in his scheme and the only means of escaping her hopeless circumstance was to accept Lord Grissholm's generous offer of assistance. At least he was an honorable man who had shown great concern and sensitivity; a man she could trust. She sighed.
“What is to be done then?”
Before answering, Grissholm guided her to a large, overstuffed chair well away from his desk. “Please sit down, Miss Bennet. The first thing that must be done is to determine the authenticity of the letters he has in his possession. I have one of them with me. Will you look at it?”
Elizabeth gingerly took the folded piece of foolscap and opened it. She could not prevent the warm rush of color brought on by her sister's appalling words. “Yes, this is Lydia's hand.”
“You are sure? And these words are hers?”
“You read it!?” Elizabeth gasped, realizing that once again Lydia had exposed her family to censure and ridicule.
“Of course I did. I had to be sure of what I was getting. Do not be alarmed, Miss Bennet. I have seen much worse. Young girls have a tendency to forget themselves when it comes to a handsome face.”
“Not all of us, I assure you,” she murmured.
“Nevertheless, I ask you once again to be certain it is her letter.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth sighed, “this is my sister Lydia's letter. I am positive.”
“Good,” he announced, taking the letter back. “Now that we are certain, I can move forward in the negotiations.”
“How long will it take? To retrieve all the letters?”
“That is difficult to say. Mr. Wickham is a very careful man who trusts no one. I fear dealing with him will require some delicacy – and a little more time.”
Clearly disappointed, Elizabeth slumped against the back of her chair. “I could have told you this would be difficult. Mr. Wickham is very good at what he does.”
“He is not the only one,” Grissholm replied with grim conviction. “I promise you I shall have him by and by. It will just require a little more time than we planned. Can you be patient a little longer?”
“I suppose I shall have to be. Is there nothing I can do?”
“No, not at present. Now that you have verified this letter, I meet Wickham in two days' time to discuss the terms. Unfortunately, he must return to his regiment, which will delay the final settlement. He insists on doing our business in London and will have to arrange another leave to bring the rest of the letters. It is uncertain when that will be.”
Elizabeth sat staring at the flames dancing in the hearth, her thoughts drifting across the miles to Longbourn and her family. What must they be going through while I am forced to sit here doing nothing! The mixture of disappointment and frustration showed plainly in her face.
“I know you are anxious to return to your family, Miss Bennet, and I am resolved to settle this as soon as possible. As for your father, if there is any change at all, you shall know immediately.”
“Thank you, my lord. I know that you are doing all you can. You have certainly done more than I ever intended you should. It is just that I feel as though I shall never see my family again.”
Grissholm sat down beside her, gently taking up her hand as he spoke. “You shall be in Hertfordshire before you know it. Trust me! And, until then, I shall do my best to keep your mind happily occupied. Starting with that visit to Madam Devereaux's. You shall have the best Indian shawl in her shop!”
He was pleased to see a tiny smile cross her lips. “For Rebecca's sake, I shall go; but you must not buy anything for me. I have enough already, really.”
“Ah, but I insist. I have it on very good authority that a woman can never have enough of such things! Go ready yourself and tell Reb
ecca to do likewise. We shall leave in half an hour.”
Without giving Elizabeth a chance to protest, he pulled her up from the chair and swept her out the door and into the hallway. He watched her take a tentative step forward, then turn back with a challenging lift of her chin; but he only smiled resolutely and gave a slight bow as he slowly closed the door.
Hearing the sound of Elizabeth's retreating footsteps after what he knew was a few minutes of deliberation on her part, Grissholm allowed a small smile to play at his lips. Their meeting had gone even better than he expected.
Returning to his desk with renewed enthusiasm, he sat down and promptly withdrew a thick packet from a side drawer. Unfolding the outer sheet of paper, he looked briefly at the stack of letters it contained before placing the letter Elizabeth had identified as Lydia's on top. Shaking his head at the ridiculously large number of letters the girl had written to Wickham, he re-wrapped them all together and tied the package with a length of string, then dropped them back into the drawer.
“Too bad Elizabeth is not as easily persuaded as Wickham,” he mused quietly to himself, “but she will be swayed in time. When she has waited long enough, I daresay she will do almost anything to return to her dear sick papa.”
* * * *
Hours after her interview with the viscount, Elizabeth sat at her dressing table absently brushing her hair in long slow strokes. She was barely aware of Molly moving about the room, setting things in order for the evening. Her mind was on Rebecca's earlier teasing comments and the subsequent shopping trip with Lord Grissholm. The recollection sent a tiny shock of astonishment through her as she considered the viscount's ever-growing interest. His frequent attentions went far beyond any responsibilities associated with her position. If she had had any doubts of their meaning before, his keen interest and intimate advice on the shawl she had reluctantly picked out at Madame Devereaux's was more than enough to convince her. Rebecca was right; a declaration would not be far off. Elizabeth was at a complete loss as to how she managed to once again arouse a passion without the slightest intention of doing so.