by Head, Gail
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but what did you expect me to be! Did you think I would forget so easily? All my dreams – our dreams – were shattered when you vanished without a trace, without any explanation!”
“I had no choice! If I had stayed, it would have meant ruin for us both!”
“No choice? There is always a choice. You should have come to me. Whatever it was, I would have helped.”
She heard a shadow of melancholy in his words and her anger dissolved. She gazed at him in thoughtful contemplation. “Would you have? I have often wondered. But I was so young, and easily persuaded to believe you would not want the penniless daughter of a man who had recklessly gambled away his fortune.”
“It would not have mattered to me. Did you really think me so inconstant?”
“No. Truthfully, I did not. And that is what made it all the more difficult. I knew your affection for me was genuine; and that is why I had to leave. Mr. Wickham made it quite clear that – ”
“Wickham?! What has he to do with it?”
“Mr. Wickham had discovered my father's grave financial situation. Using a false promise of aid for my father, he tricked me into exchanging some letters and then meeting him in private – compromising situations from which he hoped to profit. He made certain that the circumstances of the rendezvous had seriously compromised my character. I had no money, of course, but Mr. Wickham insisted that I ask you for it. He made it very clear that he would destroy my reputation if I did not cooperate. If I had married you, it would have been a never-ending nightmare. The threat of scandal would have hung over us forever. My father's recklessness had already ruined my life and I could not bear to think my folly would ruin yours as well; and so I fled as far as I could from Cambridge, and Mr. Wickham…and you.”
“Without a single word,” he accused softly.
“I could not. I dared not because I knew if you tried to dissuade me in the least, I would not have had the strength to refuse you.” Catherine paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Father had been outraged at my decision to take employment and so we did not part on good terms. I settled into my position quickly, but I refrained from writing any letters fearing father would reject me completely – and I could not risk discovery by Mr. Wickham, or you.”
“I searched for you. I searched day and night for a twelve-month.”
Catherine looked away from the painful memory that played on Grissholm's face. “For several months, I immersed myself in building a new life. My employer was a kind man, and had guessed the ill effect of my employment upon my family connections. He encouraged me to reconcile with my father, and even arranged for my passage back to London. But when I arrived, I discovered that a terrible fire had taken my home and family. I had nothing left in London, so I returned to Yorkshire and accepted my fate.”
Grissholm's bitter laugh was laced with deep sadness. “Nothing? Not a very flattering measure of my affection, is it?”
“I did return to Cambridge looking for you – but I encountered Mr. Wickham instead, and he assured me that your affections were most decidedly engaged elsewhere. He said that you had retired to the country with a young lady. He told me that your last words of me were that you were glad to have escaped an objectionable alliance and you never wanted to see me again!”
“Wickham has much to answer for,” Grissholm remarked grimly before turning a narrow gaze on Catherine. “Yes, I went to Everton with a 'young lady.' An eight-year-old orphan by the name of Rebecca Monroe; although she now goes by the name of Ballard to protect her from scandal.”
His look did not waver as Catherine stared in mute astonishment.
“Your sister, I believe.”
“Rebecca?” she gasped softly. “Rebecca is alive?”
“Quite. I discovered her in a charitable house when I was searching for you. My intention was to restore her to you when you were found. But then I received Wickham's report telling me you had died. I imagine that is the reason Wickham dissuaded you from seeking me out again. He knew it would expose his lie!”
“Mr. Wickham told you I had died?!”
“Yes,” Grissholm frowned into the distance. “In childbirth.”
He looked back to see Catherine's face flush scarlet. “Childbirth?! Who did he think –”
“The report gave every indication that it was Darcy.”
Her mortified look was all that he needed to know Wickham had played him for a fool.
“I may have acted recklessly when I met with Mr. Wickham, but I have never …would never do anything so…so…and you believed it?”
It was now Grissholm's face that colored. “You had vanished without any explanation! I did not want to believe it, but after months of searching, all I had was Wickham's wretched report! You were dead – gone forever – and I was left with a child who was a constant, daily reminder of what I had lost. By then, my conscience would not allow me to return her to a less than desirable life in the workhouse, so I made her my ward.”
“And now? Where is my sister now?”
“We are at Peyton House. She is preparing for her first season this spring.”
“This is astonishing – my little sister alive and well! And all because of your kindness, my lord!”
“For your sake, I could do no less.”
A fragile silence settled between them as each tried to comprehend the implications of what had just been revealed. Grissholm's gaze remained fixed on the ground in front of him as he endeavored to give up the lie he had embraced for so many years.
“Wickham lied about your death.”
“Obviously, my lord!”
“And there was no affair with Darcy – no child.” It was not a question, but a statement; and its utterance gave way to a stark realization. “It seems I have been seeking revenge on the wrong man.”
“I believe so,” she agreed softly. “Sir, might I see Rebecca?”
Grissholm sprang to life immediately. “Of course! We shall go now, if you wish it. Bonham! Make ready! We are returning to Peyton House at once!”
He was rewarded with a brilliant smile from Catherine as he offered his uninjured arm and began escorting her to his carriage.
Darcy observed the possessive hold of Grissholm's hand upon Catherine's arm, and his lips twitched slightly. Drawing himself up and stepping away from Richard, he called out in a deceptively even voice. “Lord Grissholm, surely you have not forgotten that we still have business to conclude here?”
Grissholm froze for a brief moment, then turned to Darcy with a warning frown. “Given the circumstances – and the injuries sustained – I suggest we postpone our business for a few days.”
Darcy glanced beyond Grissholm to Catherine Monroe, his face bearing an inscrutable expression. “But my lord, the reputation of a lady is at stake.”
With growing alarm, Grissholm saw Catherine's confusion at the declaration and quickly stepped closer to Darcy. “I see no reason to discuss this matter further in such gentle company.”
“I mean no disrespect to Miss Monroe, of course; nevertheless, this is the place and time agreed upon for our meeting. Perhaps it is fortunate that she should be here so that she can be educated on how eagerly you defend innocent young ladies from disgrace.”
“Robert?” queried Catherine, her confusion deepening.
Grissholm's face darkened with anger. “You go too far, Darcy!”
“I would say the same about you,” replied Darcy firmly. “In fact, I would point out that you have been mistaken about me for years. Miss Monroe stands before you, and if you ask her, will attest that I am wholly innocent of the crime for which you have blamed me these last ten years. As for our current dispute, let us consider the matter. I still contend that a gentleman of real honor could never have attempted to – ”
“Stop! There is no need to discuss the details in front of Miss Monroe!” Casting a nervous look in Catherine's direction, he stepped closer, speaking with quiet desperation. “What resolution do you
propose, Darcy?”
Darcy eyed Grissholm narrowly as he pushed away the haunting visions of Elizabeth and all that she had suffered. Grissholm deserved to die, but that was not going to happen today. He pressed for the only other thing that would satisfy him now.
“I propose that you declare the lady in question to be wholly without blame in the matter of your conduct. That you personally give surety to every party with any knowledge of the affair that her honor is intact in every respect and her reputation is unblemished.” Darcy peered intently into Grissholm's face. “And that you fully acknowledge only a blackguard would attempt a brutal outrage against such an innocent lady.”
“You can go to the devil!” Grissholm began heatedly, but a glance back at Catherine showed her listening to the exchange with wide-eyed concern. Grissholm fell silent. Darcy was unsure whether the viscount's heightened color denoted anger or shame, but then he saw the barely visible slump in the man's shoulders as he spoke.
“Very well,” Grissholm acquiesced grudgingly. “I agree.”
A weary triumph spread across Darcy's face. “Good. I shall consider the offense satisfied. I take my leave now and entrust to you the task of explaining it to Miss Monroe as best you can!”
* * * *
Elizabeth gazed yet again at the letter in her hand and breathed a halting sigh. Bitter tears had already been spilt and banished hours ago, but the agonizing truth still cut deep with every examination of the dreadful news.
She looked over to Georgiana who was sitting quietly on the sedan chair with an open book that had not had a page turned in the past twenty minutes. Worry creased the girl's face and Elizabeth could not bear to burden her further with the content of her letter. At least not until the outcome of the dreadful duel was known.
“Does it always take this long?” Georgiana whispered anxiously. “Do you think he is all right?”
“I do not know about such things; but I know your brother is a good man and God will watch over him – He must for your sake!” And mine! she finished silently. I know he cannot be mine after this dreadful news, but I would have him be safe.
“I hope so. I have prayed so. I want so much for you and – ”
The sudden sound of hushed voices and heavy footsteps in the hallway pulled the two women out of the sitting room in an instant. They hurried toward the noise, unwilling to wait any longer in spite of their fear of what they might find, and looked at one another in relief as they heard the familiar sound of Darcy's voice.
“Give me some room, Richard! I can do this on my own.”
“You look like death itself, Cousin, and if I were in a betting mood, I would not lay odds on you making it past the first set of stairs. Lawrence, you steady him on that side.”
Elizabeth and Georgiana reached the bottom of the staircase just as the men gained the first landing, Darcy supported precariously between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Dr. Lawrence.
“Fitzwilliam!” Georgiana exclaimed in horror. “You are hurt!”
All three men stopped at her cry and Darcy turned, wincing slightly at the movement as he looked down.
“I am fine, Georgie. Just a scratch.”
“Sir,” said Elizabeth, “I am so relieved to see you back again! Please allow me to say how grateful –”
“It is not necessary, Miss Bennet,” he replied. Looking to Elizabeth, he met and held her eyes. “Everything shall be fine.”
Elizabeth forced a smile to her lips as the men continued up the stairs. Everything might be “fine” for the Darcys, but her own family was another matter entirely. She rubbed at the dull ache in her head that told her she had overtaxed her strength.
“Georgiana, I think I should like to rest awhile. Will you help me back to my room?”
“Of course, Elizabeth! You do look pale. What a morning! I do not believe I can take any more excitement.”
Nor can I, Elizabeth thought to herself. It was clear she would have to handle matters carefully. She looked down at the letter still clutched in her hand. It would be just like him to somehow feel responsible and think it his duty to act upon this terrible news; but she could not allow Mr. Darcy to ever again do anything so foolish and dangerous as fighting a duel for her sake. No, she would make sure that could never happen again.
* * * *
Darcy angrily tossed the note onto the bed. Leaving? Just like that before he could secure an understanding? No, he would not allow it! Not now.
“Denham, find Miss Bennet at once and tell her I wish to speak with her. She is not to leave this house before I have seen her!”
“Very good, sir,” the valet replied with a dignified bow. “I shall do so right away.”
Darcy sniffed discontentedly. His taste for philosophy suddenly gone, he set his book on the side table and settled in to wait for Elizabeth's arrival. She would not dare refuse him. He knew she cared for him even if she was too stubborn to admit it. He had seen it in her eyes the night they quarreled over the duel. Even though she had displayed a puzzling reluctance to be in his company since his return from the meeting with Grissholm, she could not hide her feelings from him. He had seen it, and the precious few times he had managed to hold her gaze, he saw it there still.
A soft knock at the door announced Elizabeth's arrival. In spite of his annoyance, he caught his breath, his chest expanding and pulling painfully at Lawrence's stitches as she entered behind Denham. She was beautiful! He was glad to see the bruises had finally faded and her color was returned – even heightened as she approached his bedside.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Her impassive expression brought his irritation to the fore. “Of course I wanted to see you! What is the meaning of this?” he replied hotly, holding the note up for her to see.
“I believe it is all explained in the note. Dr. Lawrence has pronounced me well enough to travel and my Uncle Gardiner is to come for me – at any moment now.”
“You would leave without a word?”
“I am not leaving without a word. You have it in your hand.”
That same unsettling reluctance crept into her countenance and Darcy sensed her duplicity. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
“I felt it best,” she replied evenly as she glanced at Denham who remained discreetly busy in a corner of the room. “I did not wish to disturb your rest; but I could not leave without expressing my gratitude for all you have done for me.”
“Gratitude? Is that what it is?”
“Why, yes.” Her carefully constructed facade of indifference slipped a little more. “It cannot be anything else.”
“It can and it is! I have seen it. Look into my eyes and tell me that you do not feel something more than gratitude.”
Elizabeth took a step back from him, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the floor.
“Look at me.”
“First I must have a promise.”
“A promise?! You may have anything you want!”
“I would have your solemn promise that you will never again place yourself in danger for my sake.”
Darcy laughed indulgently. “Is that all? There is no more threat from Grissholm, I can promise you that. And I give you my solemn promise that I shall not place myself in danger defending your honor without your express permission. Will that do?”
His amused smile faded as she lifted her eyes to his and he saw the glittering sadness they held.
“What is it?”
“I cannot deny that I have felt more than gratitude, indeed, much more; but I fear it cannot be so. I had hoped our last meeting would be as friends, however, I see that I am to be denied even that.”
“You are not making sense. If you care for me, nothing else matters.”
“I wish it were so,” Elizabeth whispered softly. “When you read this letter I have received from Jane, you will think differently.”
Taking the letter she offered, Darcy read the lines quickly, his anger growing with every word.
“Wickham!” h
e snarled viciously.
“Yes, Mr. Wickham…and my youngest sister, Lydia. So you see, it is hopeless.”
“Yes, I do see. I must beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. I have business that cannot wait,” Darcy announced brusquely. “May I ask that you wait for me downstairs?” Intent on the plan which was forming in his head, he did not see the fleeting look of devastation cross Elizabeth's face.
“Yes, of course,” she murmured. “I understand.”
Consumed with the need to act quickly, Darcy barely responded to her parting courtesy as she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
“Denham, prepare my morning clothes at once. I am going out.”
The valet approached Darcy hesitantly, his usually placid face lined with worry. “But sir, if I may say, Dr. Lawrence has instructed you to remain abed for another three days!” Darcy's fierce expression halted any further argument. “Yes, sir, right away.”
Chapter 28
A soft, delicate melody flowed from the piano forte, filling the drawing room at Peyton House. With a shy nod to her sister, Rebecca navigated through a difficult passage as Catherine turned the page and remained protectively by her sister's side. Their surprising reunion had been a joyous, tear-filled event. From across the room, however, Robert Grissholm stifled a frown.
His brief explanation of the disagreement with Darcy had been vague and elusive. He had rightly guessed Catherine's anticipation of being reunited with her little sister would distract her from seeking more concrete answers; but he knew it was only a matter of time and she would soon want more – more than he could give without risking her censure. The truth of why he had fought Darcy would surely drive her from him.
The muscles in his chest tightened with a dreadful sense of foreboding as he considered the fragile happiness he had enjoyed since Catherine's precipitous arrival two short days ago. She was the living embodiment of his memories in every way. Her grace, her charm, the brilliant sapphire eyes that danced with tender affection whenever she looked at him. He sighed deeply. After thinking her dead for ten years, he could not bear to lose her again.