Windfell stared at Darcy, his eyes round. “I am a Duke,” he spluttered.
Darcy let out a bark of laughter. “You are not a Duke, Marsden, and yes,I do have the connections to bring that about in very short order, if need be. I prefer, however, the more gentlemanly choice. I shall release your arm and you shall accompany me back into White’s. I shall procure a private dining room. And we shall talk.”
Windfell shook his head, eyes narrowed as he regarded Darcy.
Darcy raised his brows. “Your time is limited. I should choose quickly, were I you. I am to leave this very afternoon, although it may only be to collect Mr Bennet and bring him with me to the gaol to meet with you.”
All the fight left Marsden’s face. “You leave me little choice. White’s it shall be. Although, I warn you, I shall not have much to tell.”
“Perhaps it is more to the point that you will have much to hear, as I do have much to say.”
They turned and proceeded awkwardly up the stairs and into the club.
When the servant closed the door on the private dining room, having taken a dinner order from both men, Darcy stood and walked to where Windfell sat at the table, throwing some coins down at his place
Windfell looked up at him, frowning.
“I shall not sup with you, Marsden. I was required to endure your presence during our university days though I knew you to be a scoundrel even then. But, I’ll be damned before I sit at table with you again.”
“Pretty words, Darcy. I shall enjoy watching you eat them. You shall, of course, receive an invitation to my wedding—with Miss Elizabeth—you being a friend of the family and all.”
White hot rage exploded in Darcy’s chest. He flew at the Duke, knocking him onto the floor. The two rolled, arms flying and legs sprawling, against the legs of the sideboard. Darcy’s punch went awry, catching Windfell on the ear rather than in the nose. Windfell, however, landed a firm hit just below Darcy’s left eye. Despite blurred vision, Darcy connected with Windfell’s nose on his second attempt. Darcy dragged Windfell back to the table.
“I shall be quick, so you may repair your face before supper arrives.” Darcy panted.
Baleful blue eyes turned to his.
Darcy’s brows lowered. “Hear me, Marsden. Next week you will reveal your mistaken assumption of the Windfell title, a discovery made upon finding long-lost family records.”
Windfell narrowed his eyes.
Darcy continued, “You shall abandon your pursuit of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You shall skulk back to your true home, and allow the Bennets immediate possession of Windfell Hall.”
Darcy put his face near Windfell’s. “Attend me well, Marsden. From this day forward, you shall never see Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You shall not speak of her, nor shall you approach any member of the Bennet household. I shall be watching your every move. You underestimate me at your own peril, I assure you.” He stood and tossed a napkin to Windfell.
He stepped to the door and adjusted his clothing, putting a finger to his rapidly swelling eye.
“Darcy.”
Darcy turned to Windfell, raising his eyebrows. “Yes.”
Windfell pressed the napkin to his nose. “Why did you not just call me out?”
Darcy flashed him a grim smile. “Because rumor has it you are an abysmal shot and I would have killed you. And—although I should consider your demise as no great loss—I feel certain Elizabeth would frown on such an outcome. On top of which, you know very well that such things are now illegal and I do not wish to find myself in gaol.”
“Ah.”
“As much as it may surprise you, I don’t wish your death, you know, Marsden.”
“So I apprehend.” He pulled the napkin from his face. “But perhaps you should.”
Darcy shrugged and left the room.
Chapter Six
“Mr. Darcy! At Lydia and Wickham’s wedding? No, Lizzy. How is it possible?” Jane finished wrapping string around the flower stems. She tied it and held the bunch out to Elizabeth.
“I desire the answer to that question, myself.” Elizabeth took the flowers and moved to hang them from a ceiling beam. “You know I shall not rest until I learn the truth of it.”She looked back over her shoulder at Jane, who was shortening another bunch of flower stems.
Jane paused her work and looked at Lizzy with a quick smile. She cocked her eyebrow. “I do know you well enough to suppose that you have already solicited information from the one source most likely to supply it.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Exactly right! I posted a letter to my Aunt Gardiner the day after Lydia left. I hope to receive her reply soon.” She stepped back to the table and continued her work.
After some moments of silence, Jane looked up at Elizabeth.
“But, Lizzy. Suppose that it is true. What can he mean by it?”
Elizabeth shook her head, not yet ready to put into words the thoughts swirling in her mind. “I wish I knew.”
“But, you saw him in Derbyshire?”
“Yes. We took tea at Pemberley on one afternoons and were engaged to dine with them the day your letters arrived to tell me about Lydia.”
Jane wrinkled her brow. “And how did you find him? His manners, I mean?”
Elizabeth set her work items on the table and dusted her hands on her overdress. “His manners were quite different at Pemberley. He seemed more aware of the people around him and I found him a great deal moremore talkative. Do you know, Jane, he actually initiated conversation with my uncle? I could scarce credit it, but it is true.”
“That does seem quite different than when he was in Hertfordshire.”
“He invited uncle to fish on his lands, going so far as to provide rod and tackle. And his demeanor toward my aunt.”
“Was it of a piece with the rest?”
“Indeed, it was—if not even more designed to please. Though she is everything amiable, herself, she could be nothing to him. A nobody—the daughter of a tradesman and wife a merchant? And yet, the consideration he showed her was nothing short of perfection.”
Jane’s eyebrows rose. “Truly? I wish I had been there to see it. Not but that I always believed he had those qualities about him. For some reason, he chose to keep them hidden.”
The sisters left the shed and walked out into the calm of a late evening garden. Jane trailed her hand along the taller flowers. “They’re so lovely at just this time of day, are they not?”
Elizabeth plucked a brilliantly colored bloom, rolling the stem between her palms. “I do believe a variety of this flower graces the gardens at Pemberley.”
Jane stopped beside the swing suspended from a study oak. “Lizzy, I must ask. How was Mr Darcy’s manner with you? After all that passed between you, I must confess myself surprised to find you so happy to have been in his company.”Elizabeth sank onto the swing, knowing that she could not share the truth with Jane. It would do her sister greater harm than good to know of Wickham’s attempt to seduce Georgiana, and neither did she wish to share such a story about Georgiana. “In truth, Jane, I found him vasty different.” She rocked back and forth on the swing. “He was caring and kind, considerate in his speech and more honest with me than he has ever been before. In fact, I must say that I found myself embarrassed by my previous behaviour towards him.It is that which stirs up so much confusion in my thinking and makes me quite put out with him.”
“How so?”
“I have become so used to casting Mr. Darcy in the role of villain, that his forays into pleasantness quite throw me into a dither.” She used the toe of her boot to trace a pattern in the dirt. Were she honest with herself, Elizabeth had thought of very little else, since the matter of Lydia and Wickham had been resolved. Her feelings for Mr Darcy were slowly growing and changing, in ways that had her all of a dither. After what he had revealed to her of Mr Wickham, she had been overcome with guilt with her
Jane laughed at her confused expression. “Have you truly struggled with your feelings towards him, Elizabeth? D
o you now truly believe that his sentiments have not changed? After all, he did say that he loved you at Rosings. That feeling does not fade quickly, let me assure you.”
Elizabeth sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”
“ Can you at least articulate what your feelings toward him?”
Elizabeth stopped moving. She took a deep breath and released it. She lifted her eyes to meet Jane’s. “I cannot say, truly. The anger that used to well within when I witnessed his proud manner is no more. He has earned my respect from his welcome to my aunt and uncle, as well as his openness and honesty with me on certain matters.”
“Respect only?”
“Approbation—esteem—call it what you like it is quite vexing to find this warm feeling where I am used to have only mistrust and unkind thoughts.” She laughed and stood. “And that, Jane, is all you shall hear from me on the subject.”
#
Elizabeth and Jane had only just sat down in the parlour when, moments later, the door opened and they both looked up.
“Elizabeth!”
“Charlotte!” Elizabeth rushed to throw her arms around Charlotte’s slightly bulky figure. Jane greeted her also, before going to enquire about a tea tray, leaving Elizabeth and Charlotte alone.
“Do sit down, Charlotte. How very glad I am to see you.”
Charlotte lowered herself to the chair. She smiled. “And I, you, Lizzy. Oh, how I have missed you!”
“Mr. Collins does not accompany you?”
Charlotte pressed her lips together, barely avoiding a grin. “He expressed a desire at breakfast to view the gardens at Lucas Lodge. As you can imagine,” she looked up at Elizabeth from lowered lids, “my father was only too happy to accommodate him.”
Elizabeth grinned. “And so, you have stolen away for a quiet coze. I am so glad you did.”
“But, Lizzy, I must beg your forgiveness. I promised Mr. Darcy I would bring a letter to you directly you left Rosings last spring. What with the illness that struck our village and the deaths of those five parishioners, and Lady Anne’s illness, I am sorry to say that I completely forgot the letter. I am just thankful I saw it stuck in the corner of my wardrobe as I packed for this trip.” She drew an envelope, somewhat battered around the corners, from her reticule.
Elizabeth took it. “He told me he had written a letter. I was not sure…”
“You have seen Mr. Darcy, then? After you left Kent, I mean?”
Heat inched up Elizabeth’s neck. “Yes. I…we—my aunt and uncle Gardiner and I— were required to curtail our trip to the Lake District and be content with Derbyshire. My aunt grew up there, you know.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “I did not know. And how was it you met with Mr. Darcy? You did not mention it in any of your correspondence.”
“No. I have been in such turmoil of late!”
Charlotte leaned forward and grasped Elizabeth’s hand. “My dearest Lizzy. It grieves me to see you in such a state. I am more than able to listen to you, should you wish to talk.”
Tears formed in Elizabeth’s eyes and she blinked rapidly to keep them from spilling over. “Thank you, Charlotte. Oh, I knew it would be good to see you again. I do have much to tell!”
The drawing room door opened.
“Why, Charlotte!” Mrs. Bennet bustled into the room followed closely by Kitty. Jane entered after them and gave Elizabeth an apologetic look.
Charlotte looked at Elizabeth. She leaned forward. “Go,” she whispered. “Go compose yourself. Read your letter. We shall time for a tête-á-tête later.”
Elizabeth smiled and nodded, clutching the letter. She stood and curtsied to her mother.
“Excuse me, Mama. I…I... have the headache. I think I shall rest in my room.”
Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips. “Very well. If you feel you must. Although I think it much better for you to stay and talk with us. I have never known you to have a headache!”
Elizabeth smiled at her mother through clenched teeth, then quit the room.
#
Elizabeth went to her room, but only to find her shawl. She pressed the envelope to her heart. She had a letter. From Darcy. Her room was too small to contain all the feelings and thoughts flowing through her. She must walk.
Three-quarters of an hour later, Jane found her on the swing in the garden.
“Lizzy?”
Oh, goodness. It would not do for Jane to find her weeping. But how could she not weep over her own stubborn prejudice. She had ruined everything with her own rush to judge Darcy and approve Wickham. Blind to her own weakness of character.
Elizabeth patted her cheeks as Jane drew near.
“Jane.” Elizabeth smiled. “Has Charlotte gone, then?”
“Yes. She felt it imprudent to stay above a half-hour.” Jane threw Lizzy a sidelong glance. “She feared Mr. Collins might decide to search her out.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, I can well imagine he might.”
“But, Lizzy,” Jane shaded her eyes and tilted her head. “Can you not tell me what troubles you?”
Elizabeth frowned. “What troubles me? I am not sure I take your meaning, Jane.”
Jane stepped closer, grasping the ropes holding the swing. She raised her eyebrows.
“Fustian. You take my meaning completely, Lizzy and you know that you do.”
“Oh, the trial of having a perceptive older sister,” Elizabeth said, examining the toes of her boots.
“Yes. I shall give you no peace, you know, Lizzy. You may as well tell me now, before the rain starts.”
Elizabeth looked up, tears flowing. “Oh, Jane! I have been such a fool.”
Jane fell to her knees and wrapped Elizabeth in her arms. “Oh, no, Lizzy. Never that. Come…” she pulled Elizabeth to her feet. “We shall go to my chamber. I shall fetch tea and—oh, cook has just baked the most savory-smelling scones—we shall have those as well. We shall sit upon my bed with our feast and you will tell me all that has you so blue-deviled.”
By this time, Jane had whisked Elizabeth along the path nearly to the drive.
Elizabeth sniffed. She patted her cheeks. “Oh, Jane.” A sigh escaped her.
Jane turned to face Elizabeth. She put her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders and examined her face. Her eyes narrowed. She patted Elizabeth’s cheeks, removing the last vestiges of a most satisfying cry.
“There. You shall do now, Lizzy. At least long enough to go above-stairs without question.”
“Oh, Jane. How shall I do without you?”
Jane’s eyes twinkled and she pressed her lips together. “I have some thoughts with regard to that topic. Now let us go up to the room.”
#
“Do you truly think so, Jane?” Elizabeth, in her nightgown, with a quilt draped over her shoulders leaned back in the overstuffed chair.
“Indeed, I do, Lizzy. I believe that and more.” Jane bustled around the room, straightening the bedspread and picking up the teapot. She looked at Elizabeth, her brows raised.
“Now, you will stop thinking and rest a moment while I procure more tea for us.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Stop thinking? After what you have just said? Oh, Jane, you have far too high an opinion of my self-control.”
“Well, I do not think that is true,” Jane gave her a lopsided grin. “But, I give you leave to think…if you absolutely m……Oh. Oh, dear.” She knelt beside the bed, reaching part way underneath.
She stood, holding out an envelope to Elizabeth. “Oh, my, Lizzy. I am so sorry. This arrived for you and I was bringing it to you when I found you on the swing. I became so intent on cheering you, that I did not remember I had it. ‘Tis from Aunt Gardiner. I feel certain it is about…”
“Darcy.” Elizabeth reached out and took the envelope.
“You read it now, do, while I bring the tea. Oh! I cannot wait to learn what my aunt has to say.” Jane slipped out the door and closed it with a quiet click.
“Oh, my dear aunt. What have you to say?” Elizabeth opened the lett
er with trembling fingers. If only she could get her breathing under control.
As she read her aunt’s thoughtful and concise description, pictures formed in her mind. Darcy offering his help. Darcy finding Wickham and Lydia when everyone had lost hope of their being found. Darcy forcing Wickham to take responsibility—purchasing him a commission, settling his debts, settling bride money on Lydia—everything the family accounted to her uncle Gardiner was the doing of Mr. Darcy. Oh, how wrong she had been.
Jane tapped on the door and Elizabeth sprang to open it. The pungent scent of the freshly brewed tea settled Elizabeth’s disquiet.
When they both had their tea, and were comfortably settled, Jane looked at Elizabeth.
“Well?”
“Oh, Jane. Everything my aunt writes—everything she says— gives truth to the character he showed us at Pemberley. Elizabeth handed the letter to Jane.
Elizabeth blew on her tea before taking a sip. She kept her eyes on Jane, mesmerized by the play of emotions across her face.
“I fancy I can tell which part of the letter you are reading by the look on your face, Jane.”
Jane laughed. “Oh, Lizzy. This is news, indeed. More, so much more than we thought.”
“It is. I…I..cannot comprehend the enormity of it…without Mr. Darcy, Lydia would be completely lost to us—not comfortably established as the wife of a soldier.”
“Nor would Wickham have this final chance to make a life for himself. Mr. Darcy is more forgiving than I should be—but, I believe, as do my aunt and uncle, that there is a strong motive driving him in this.” Jane looked into Elizabeth’s eyes.
Elizabeth turned her face away and picked at the threads of her quilt. “No, Jane. I do not—I cannot—agree.” She looked back to her sister. “My aunt is most perceptive, but, even if a regard for me was his motive then, events have occurred since then that…” she choked on her words and turned her face away again.
“Dearest Lizzy.” Jane rose and laid her hand on Elizabeth’s hair, stroking it. “All is not lost. It cannot be so. Only tell me…Lizzy, do you love Mr. Darcy?”
Confusion, Confession and Conviction Page 8