by P. O. Dixon
* * *
He stood in the doorway and observed her as she busied herself arranging a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers. He knocked to get her attention.
“You wanted to see me, Lady Gwendolen?”
“Mr. Darcy!” She smoothed her gown and patted her hair. “Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy. Please come in. Have a seat.”
Walking into the room, cutting half the distance between them, he stopped. “Lady Gwendolen, what is this about?”
“Mr. Darcy, I cannot help noticing that you have been keeping to yourself the past two days. Has something occurred to upset you?”
“I am bothered, yes, though you need not concern yourself.”
“Will you not tell me what it is? Perhaps I might be of service. You will find me an enthusiastic listener. I am afraid my brother is quite distracted with ... other guests.” She wanted but dared not give voice to the true reason for her brother’s preoccupation.
“Yes, I know. I am afraid there is nothing you can do for me, Lady Gwendolen.”
“Why must you be aloof with me, Mr. Darcy? Surely, my brother has told you how much I esteem you.”
“I am not sure this is a conversation you and I need to have.” His voice resonated with caution warranted by such an exchange.
“Why not? Must I wait forever for you to take notice of me?
“I do notice you.” Darcy spoke in earnest. “I also know your brother’s wishes as regards the two of us. However, I believe you deserve better.”
“How can you say that?”
“Lady Gwendolen, I never wish to say anything to hurt you. Suffice it to say there is indeed the perfect man for you, someone who will love and cherish you, as you ought to be. You have yet to meet him.”
Darcy stood to leave the room. “I am sorry. Please, excuse me. I must be getting back to my room. In fact, I mean to speak with your brother to let him know I plan to cut my visit short. Bingley and I talked, and since he is here largely at my request, he plans to accompany me back to town.”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, you know I had such high hopes for this week.”
“Yes I know, and I do not mean to upset you in any way. I must be going. Good day.”
Lady Gwendolen cried out in distress, stopping Darcy in his footsteps. Tears attendant of one forced to witness her dreams unravel misted her eyes. He returned to console her, mindful of decorum and unwilling to do anything that might be misconstrued.
He guided her to sit beside him on the settee. “Tell me, Lady Gwendolen, what is this about? Why the tears?”
“Must I say it? You must know I am in love with you, and that I have been for years.”
“No, I know no such thing. I suspect your sentiments are borne out of infatuation, not love. You do not know me well enough to profess such a powerful sentiment as love.”
“I know what I feel. I struggle each day not to spend it in thoughts of you. I am sure of my love for you.”
“I am sure you are mistaken. Take heart, Lady Gwendolen. I hold you in considerable esteem, but that is the extent of my feelings for you.
“You must accept that. Tell me that you do.”
“Mr. Darcy, you can say what you will. I know my own heart.”
“I suppose you think you do. I must confess I know my own, as well. One woman, alone, holds my heart.”
“Is it Miss Elizabeth? Is Miss Elizabeth Bennet the woman of whom you speak?”
Darcy was silent. Lady Gwendolen looked into his eyes. “Your silence is confirmation.”
“I will always hold you in esteem, Lady Gwendolen. However, I will not allow you to cling to hope for that which will never be.”
In silence, his eyes pierced deeply into to hers. For a long moment, he wondered if the pain he had unintentionally inflicted upon her was akin to the pain he suffered in having lost his chance with Elizabeth ... pain inherent in a love that would never be.
The hopeful look in her eyes suggested that her ladyship misread his remorse. If she did not listen, if she continued to cling to hope in spite of his declaration, there was nothing more he could say for he did not mean to hurt her.
Darcy stood and spoke softly. “I will leave you now.” He reached for her hand and raised it slightly, nothing more. He bowed. He released her hand and quit the room.
Agitated, he halted in his steps halfway down the grand hall. That voice!
“Pardon me, Mr. Darcy, might I have a word with you?”
He was on his way to speak to his friend about his plans to leave Latham Hall, but the sound of her calling out to him forced him to turn and look back to see her standing in the doorway of the library.
“Duchess?”
She beckoned him to join her. Once inside, she promptly locked the door. “I do not wish to be interrupted. Do you mind?”
“What is this about?”
“I need your assistance in a rather delicate matter regarding Trevor. I wish for you to have a word with him on my behalf.”
“I swore off involvement in your affairs years ago, or did you forget?”
“No, I remember all too well. Still, I need you. I want you to speak with him and persuade him to desist in this notion of his that I shall ever be his wife.”
“If you have no intentions of doing anything other than dallying with him, then why not leave him alone. Why did you come this week?”
“Believe me, I was sorely tempted to remain in town, but Trevor assured me that things would be different, and that he would no longer try to pressure me into marrying him.”
“Please spare me the sordid details.”
“You asked.”
Changing tactics, the Duchess approached him and laced her arm through his. She attempted to coax him to have a seat, but he did not budge.
Dropping his arm, she laced her voice with honey instead. “Mr. Darcy, I have no desire to argue with you, and there is no reason we should not be friends. I do not endeavour to cause Trevor pain. I enjoy our time together immensely.
“The fact is that I have no wish, nor any reason, to marry again. It does not mean I do not care deeply for him.”
“You are wasting your time with me. Trevor knows my opinion on the matter. If you are unhappy with any pressure he is bringing to bear with the intention of making you his wife, you should address those concerns directly with him.”
“Oh! Why did I bother to think you might be of service to me? You always looked down on me, even when I became the Duchess of Sexton. To you, I was unfailingly the unfortunate, poverty-stricken daughter of a drunken, gambling shell of a man who made his entire family ridiculous.”
“You saw yourself as such. Do not ascribe your low opinion of yourself to me. Besides, I was prepared to overlook your diminished circumstances in deference to my friend’s adoration of you.”
“What is changed? He adores me still. However, you abhor my very presence.”
“Everything changed when you cast him aside for the Duke of Sexton, a man three times your senior, for motives that were clearly mercenary. Why settle for an earl when you might have a duke?”
“Trevor does not hold my choice against me. He understood that my father forced me into marrying the Duke. My family might have suffered ruination pursuant to my father’s gambling and drinking. Even the Helmsley family fortune was not enough to dig my family out of the dire straits my father had settled upon us.”
“Then what is stopping you now? Now, when you have wealth and status, you continue to string my friend along when, in your heart, you know you will never marry him.”
“This arrangement of ours affords him all the benefits of marriage, and it affords me all the freedom and security of determining my own fate. Why would I give that up?”
“You are unbelievably selfish.”
“You are one to talk, Mr. Darcy. I am sure it vexes you exceedingly to be always forced to be in my company whenever you visit Trevor.”
“You give yourself too much credit, Duchess. Your presence has no effect upon me one way or the other. Goo
d day, Your Grace.”
* * *
“Darcy, I know we have had scarcely a moment alone since Miss Elizabeth took her leave, what with Juliette’s arrival.”
Darcy sipped his drink in silence.
“When you left my study that morning, I was sure you had made up your mind to protect Miss Elizabeth from scandal by proposing to her. Was I correct in supposing such a thing?”
“I am not engaged, if that is what you are asking.”
“You speak as if that is a bad thing. Clearly, you admire her. Even Gwendolen could discern that. However, did you seriously consider what it would mean had she accepted your proposal?”
“I confess it is a bad thing. I more than admire Miss Elizabeth. I love her. Not only have I failed her when what I meant to do was protect her, I have offended her.”
“I am sorry to hear of your suffering, my friend. Is there something I might do as regards Miss Elizabeth? Speak with her, perhaps?”
Darcy finished his drink and set his glass aside. “Trevor, I did not come here seeking advice in that regard, as much as I respect you and value our friendship. I will find a way to make things up to Miss Elizabeth. I need your help in unmasking the source of this troublesome information. Once we learn the source, proper steps can be taken to stop it from spreading any further.”
“Fear not. I have some idea of the origins of this information. I will handle it.”
“I am in your debt.” Darcy stood to take his leave. “I suspect your sister will require a bit more of your attention this afternoon than you have given her of late. I have come from speaking with her.”
“Is Gwendolen terribly upset?”
“I attempted to explain things to her; however, I suspect she clings to some semblance of hope, still.”
“I shall speak with my sister.”
“I have one other thing. You know I am loath to interfere when it comes to your situation with the Duchess—”
“She is not your favourite person; yes, I am aware of that fact.”
“Nevertheless, I urge you to speak with her, as well. What is more, I suggest you listen.”
Lord Latham remained silent, pensive. Darcy walked towards the door and then stopped to face his friend.
“Bingley and I take our leave in half an hour. Shall I see you in town, in a day or so?”
“Yes, absolutely, my old friend. Pray I have good news to report.”
* * *
Darcy reread the meticulous results of several hours spent on his letter-writing campaign since returning to London, days ahead of his originally planned arrival. His sentiments varied widely from anger to rage, from disappointment to resolve. He began by assuring Elizabeth in the coldest of tones that he did not intend to repeat any of his previous declarations. His character alone, of which she thought so little, demanded he address in full the accusations she made against him—nothing more.
Therein, he wrote of his role in separating his friend from Miss Bennet; however, he had not learned to think his actions were unwarranted, and even though Elizabeth’s words on her sister’s sentiments must certainly bear some consideration, they were not enough to convince him of her impartiality.
He spoke at length of her accusations that he had been the cause of George Wickham’s diminished circumstances. Even as Darcy read the letter to himself, he knew it would never find its way into Elizabeth’s hands.
What would be the point? In spite of her words arguing her sister’s love for Bingley, were it in my power to do it all again, I would behave no differently.
Bingley deserves better, if he is to earn a place befitting his wealth and long sought after standing amongst Society. How might I in good conscience encourage such an alliance merely borne out of an affection of only a few weeks? The situation of Mrs. Bennet’s family being in trade, though objectionable, is nothing in comparison to the total want of propriety displayed by the entire family, save Elizabeth and Miss Bennet.
Besides that, he had often seen his friend in love before. He concluded this time was no different.
Darcy pondered the irony. To Bingley, he had been better than he had been to himself. Though he would not encourage Bingley in aligning with such a family, he knew he would jump at such a prospect for himself.
The strongest reason he could not bring himself to deliver the letter, though, had nothing to do with impropriety and everything to do with his young sister. Darcy surmised Elizabeth viewed his sister with circumspection already, thinking she was the reason he did not covet an alliance between Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet. He did not know how she would react in hearing such an account from him, someone she thought so little of, against her favourite, George Wickham, whom she obviously held in esteem.
Besides, the story was not his to tell.
Darcy balled the letter in his hands and tossed it into the fire. As much as he wished to give Elizabeth a true account of George Wickham’s character, he would not betray his sister’s confidence.
He stood before the fire and looked on as the words on the pages melted into nonexistence, as if never committed to paper, forever safe from perusal. There had to be another way.
As stubborn as Elizabeth is, the fact remains, something has to be done about our situation.
Darcy walked to his desk, sat in his chair, and rested his head in his hands in deep contemplation.
He looked up when Georgiana entered his study. Her face bore a worried expression. He credited himself as the cause of her concern having marked its onset with his return from the Latham country estate.
“Brother, it has been too long since we entertained anyone at Darcy House, do you not agree?”
“Indeed, though the thought of entertaining Miss Bingley and the Hursts holds little appeal for me. We can hardly escape them should we invite Bingley to dinner.”
“Actually, I was not thinking of Mr. Bingley at all, though I would welcome his company.”
“Whom do you have in mind?”
“I am of a mind to invite Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and her Uncle and Aunt Gardiner, of course. I have meant to for a while. Now seems the perfect time. I would like to extend the invitation before we leave for Kent.”
“No,” Darcy said without thought. “I mean to say an invitation to dinner will not be feasible.”
“Why is it unfeasible? Do you not wish to see Miss Elizabeth again? Though you will not admit it, I know the disappointment you suffered when she left our home without seeing you that morning.”
“Actually, Georgiana, I have seen Miss Elizabeth. In fact, she and I were together at Lord Latham’s party. I am afraid we parted on less than favourable terms.”
Darcy walked back to the fireplace and stared into the flames. All evidence of his disappointed hopes had vanished. “The truth is I believe I am the last person in the world whom Miss Elizabeth would wish to see. I have no one to blame but myself ... and one George Wickham.” His last words were beneath his breath.
George Wickham. Months had passed since he had last uttered those two words in his sister’s presence. The last thing he wanted was to revisit what had been one of the most painful moments of their lives, save the loss of their father. If she heard him, she pretended otherwise.
“I am sorry to hear that the two of you are at odds, Brother. I like Miss Elizabeth. I had hoped to become better acquainted with her.”
Darcy smiled. Despite the fact that he had offered Elizabeth his hand in marriage out of obligation, he had also done it out of love. He loved her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
“I know.”
Georgiana placed a light kiss on her brother’s cheek. “Do you mind if I take the carriage? I need to see someone.”
“I trust you will be accompanied by Mrs. Annesley, young lady.”
“Yes, of course, Brother. I would never venture to leave the house without her.”
* * *
Elizabeth suffered a surprise when the housekeeper announced her visitor.
“Miss Da
rcy, welcome. I apologise for my aunt’s being out. Did you come all this way unescorted?”
“You need not apologise, Miss Elizabeth. I came here to see you. Thank you for receiving me. I confess to not travelling across town alone. However, I asked my companion, Mrs. Annesley, to take advantage of my visit with you to call on her relatives who live nearby. What I have to discuss is of delicate nature.”
“Please be seated.” Elizabeth gestured toward the sofa. “I was about to have tea. Will you join me?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Elizabeth prepared the tea and handed her guest a cup. Elizabeth had not seen the young lady since she visited her with Mr. Darcy’s physician in tow at the start of the Season.
“Pray what brings you so far this morning?” Elizabeth said. She suspected it might have to do with Mr. Darcy. What other purposes might there be?
“I will be honest with you. I am here because of something my brother said to me this morning.”
“Your brother?” Elizabeth did not expect the young lady to be that upfront. “Did your brother tell you what transpired between us earlier this week?” Elizabeth fiddled with her napkin, uneasy by the prospect.
“No. He only went as far as to say the two of you had seen each other at Lord Latham’s party, and you had not parted on good terms.”
Elizabeth said nothing. She sipped her tea in relief. The last thing she needed was a lecture from Mr. Darcy’s sister, advocating for or against his chivalrous proposal. She did not know the young lady well enough to know which way she leaned.
Georgiana put Elizabeth’s busy mind at ease. “He also spoke of your knowing Mr. Wickham.”
“Indeed. I made Mr. Wickham’s acquaintance in Meryton, shortly after meeting your brother.”
“Miss Elizabeth, my brother hinted at your opinion of him being coloured by your acquaintance with Mr. Wickham.”
“Miss Darcy, at the expense of sounding rude, I am not inclined to discuss my opinion of either of the two gentlemen with you.”
“I understand your sentiments; believe me, I do. However, I cannot allow you to maintain an opinion of my brother based on Mr. Wickham’s account. I assure you, my brother is the best of men.”