Dangerous to Know

by Christina Boyd (ed)

  Her Ladyship would partner me for two sets. Surely, I could manage a word or two with her during that time.

  “I would speak with you in private,” I said at the first opportunity.

  She did not answer but smiled at me enigmatically. We parted and moved in step with the Lancers’ Quadrille, a dance that required all of my attention and left little time for talk.

  “After the dance,” she promised when next we crossed paths.

  When the second set ended, I sought Lady Harlow out before Darcy came to find me.

  “May I fetch you a cup of negus?” I inquired and held out my arm.

  “I would be most grateful.” She unfurled her fan and waved it languidly before her face. “Tiens! This room is warm. Let us go outside to the terrace.”

  Once outside, glasses in hand, Lady Harlow turned to me. “We have not much time,” she said in a low voice. “I leave for Paris in two days.”

  “Paris?” Shock froze my features. “But… I thought you meant to stay with the Fanshaws for the summer.”

  “My plans have changed.” She paused. “Mon cher,” she added as she saw my dismay, “please listen. There is an inn at Beckford, a half days’ journey from here. Do you know it?”

  I nodded. “I think so. Yes.”

  “I will take a room there. Follow me in three days’ time, and when you arrive, tell the innkeeper you wish to join your wife.”

  My head spun. “But Darcy will never allow me to go. Not to mention, we are not married, not in truth, and your husband—”

  “Is dead. Do not be a child!” she snapped. More gently she added, “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes. I do. Of course, I do!”

  “Then you must trust me now, and do as I ask. No one at the inn will know, or care, that my husband is dead. And nor should you.”

  Her indifference towards the departed Lord Harlow shocked me, and I wondered for the first time if Darcy’s father had the right of it. What did I truly know of this woman? “Perhaps not. But to deliberately lie...”

  “If you have not the courage to risk it”—she pressed her lips together—“then you may remain under your guardian’s watchful eye for the rest of the summer and languish in Derbyshire. Or you may join me in Beckford. The choice is yours.”

  Uncertainty warred with desire inside me. What Lady Harlow asked of me was wrong. To defy my godfather, to lie to him, to pretend to be someone I was not in order to bed her… such actions were beyond anything I had ever done.

  The elder Mr. Darcy’s words echoed in my head.

  “I strongly suggest you think carefully before you make choices that you cannot take back.”

  I convinced myself that I did not care. I wanted her. Oh, how I wanted her! Lord Harlow was dead, their marriage over. Nothing stopped the two of us from being together… only my foolish hesitation. Here was an opportunity I would never have again, and if I did not seize what Lady Harlow offered, Darcy would have the right of it. I would prove myself to be, not a man, but merely a boy.

  The thought of sharing Clémence Harlow’s bed, even if only for one stolen night, decided me.

  “Very well,” I told her and set my glass down. “It will not be an easy undertaking, for my godfather will not allow me to travel on my own, unless…”

  She drew closer. “Unless?”

  “I had forgotten until this moment”—I could scarce keep the excitement from my voice—“my friend John Seldon leaves for Italy next week. I cannot imagine that even Mr. Darcy will object if I offer to accompany him as far as Beckford.”

  “Ah! There, you see?” she said and masked her pleasure behind a dainty sip of negus. “You are not only a handsome young man, but a clever one as well.”

  I longed to pull her into my arms and rain kisses upon her and profess my love for her publicly, the other guests be damned, but managed to resist the impulse. “I will count the minutes until we can be together.”

  “Ah… here comes your jailer now,” she observed, and her lips curved upwards in amusement. “He is not happy with us, I think.”

  I turned to see Darcy, grim faced, approaching us. Where once I would have quailed before his evident displeasure, now I squared my shoulders. “I grow weary of his disapproval. I cannot seem to please him.”

  “He has high expectations because he cares for you.” Her smile faded and a thoughtful expression settled upon her face. She touched my hand. “Pray, do not be angry with him. His intentions are well meant.”

  “Perhaps.” I thrust my irritation aside and forced a smile. “Then let us be on our best behavior for the rest of the evening and give him no reason to find fault with either of us.”

  She nodded, and I held out my arm to her. With a smile of composure, she laid her hand upon my sleeve, and we met Darcy halfway across the terrace, where I proceeded to exert every ounce of my charm until I succeeded in smoothing his ruffled feathers.

  * * *

  My plan to deceive my godfather fell into place with greater ease than I dared to hope.

  When I told him the squire’s son had invited me to accompany him and see him off on his journey to Italy, he gave me his blessing, as well as a generous sum for my travels. Seldon was only too glad to share his hired coach with me and threw back his head and laughed when he learned of my scheme.

  “I did not think you capable of such chicanery, Wickham,” he declared as my case was lashed to the roof and we set off in the coach. “Escaping old Darcy’s watchful eye for an assignation with a French ladybird … lud! I am all amazement.”

  “She is no ladybird,” I said sharply as I settled myself across from him.

  “She is hardly an angel,” he pointed out his words mild but firm. “While her beauty cannot be disputed, your rendezvous with Lady Harlow is reckless at best and improper at worst. If your godfather should find out he will be furious with her. And even more so with you.”

  “He won’t find out, unless you tell him. And I fear you misunderstand her, Seldon. She is lonely, nothing more, and in need of comfort.”

  “Comfort?” He snorted. “Fustian nonsense. Please don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with her.”

  “I do love her.” I crossed one Hessian boot over the other and regarded him steadily. “And I mean to marry her.”

  Seldon shook his head. “You cannot be serious. This is madness, Wickham. You barely know the woman!”

  “I know enough. She is beautiful, and clever, and as enamored of me as I am of her.” I thought of her handkerchief, tucked away even now in my pocket. “Rumors are flying that she seeks a husband. Why should it not be me?”

  “Why? I can give you several reasons. Your pockets are to let, for one thing. You haven’t a sixpence to scratch with. How will you support a wife?”

  I did not have a ready answer. “I have expectation of an inheritance,” I muttered after a moment. “Three thousand pounds.”

  “Three thousand pounds is but a trifle when it comes to supporting a wife and managing a household.” He leaned forward. “George, listen to me. Please do not mistake my meaning. No one can deny your charm or your appeal to the young ladies…”

  “But?”

  “But Lady Harlow has been married and widowed once already. If and when she remarries, you can be sure it will be to someone older, a man of wealth and title.”

  Deep within me, although I was loath to admit it, I knew he was right. But my stubborn pride held sway and only hardened my resolve.

  “Once I finish at Cambridge, if she will wait for me, I will have the curacy at Pemberley and a living to offer her. It will be a quiet life, I grant you. But we can live at the rectory quite comfortably.”

  “Do you honestly think life as a vicar’s wife will appeal to a woman as worldly as Lady Harlow?” Seldon regarded me in mingled disbelief and pity. “Then you are deluded and even more far gone than I had previously supposed.”

  * * *

  Darkness settled itself like a cloak over the countryside as our coach ar
rived at the Beckford Inn that evening and rolled to a halt in the yard. As the ostlers hurried out to see to the horses, I climbed down the steps and onto the dirt-packed yard. My body was stiff from several hours of sitting.

  “Welcome, young gents,” the innkeeper called out from the doorway. “Who have we ’ere?”

  “John Seldon,” my traveling companion said and waited as his trunks were deposited alongside him. “I require a room for the night.”

  “And you?” he asked, peering into the murky light his lantern provided.

  I took a deep breath. I felt like a charlatan, a trickster of the first order, and was sure he would see through my ruse straightaway. “I am Lord Harlow. I believe my wife has taken a room here already.”

  “So she has. Yes, indeed.” If he thought it odd that an earl had travelled by hired coach and not a private carriage, he gave no sign. “A most gracious welcome to ye, m’lord.” He bowed.

  Beside me, John suppressed a snort of laughter.

  “Come along, then,” the innkeeper said. “Leave the lads to deal with your trunks and come inside. It’s late, and I’ve naught but a cold collation to offer the pair of you. I hope you’ve no objection to taking your bread and cheese and ale in the public room. The private dining room’s already taken.”

  We nodded our assent and followed him inside and made our way to the public room. It was rude but comfortable, with wooden beams overhead and whitewashed walls, and a fire burned in the hearth. At such a late hour, the place was all but deserted.

  I settled myself at a table near the fire and, despite my weariness, felt my spirits lift. My adventure, so rashly undertaken, would soon lead to the fruition of all my hopes and dreams—not only to spend a night alone with Lady Harlow but to stand up to Darcy for the first time in my young and sheltered life.

  He regarded me now as little more than a boy. But after tonight, I would prove myself to be a boy no longer but a man.

  * * *

  After dinner, I bid Seldon a good night and made my way up the stairs to Lady Harlow’s room. I found it at the end of the hall. The hour was late, and I hesitated. What if she slept or had changed her mind? What if she refused to admit me? The thought of passing the night on Seldon’s floor, or worse, on a bench in the public room, held no appeal.

  I gripped my candlestick tighter and rapped twice upon the rough, wooden door. It opened after a moment, and she ushered me inside, shutting the door quickly behind me. “You came,” she whispered. “I was not sure you would.”

  “Of course I did. How could I not?” She had loosened her hair, and beneath her thin, muslin nightgown, I glimpsed a tantalizing hint of her nakedness. “I have lied to be with you, my lady,” I said as I pulled her into my arms with a rakish grin, “and risked my godfather’s wrath to be with you. Convince me now that I have not made an error in judgment.”

  “I need no words to persuade you.” She smiled as she reached for my jacket and pushed it from my shoulders. “I can show you far more easily.”

  In a matter of moments, she helped me out of my clothes and I divested her of the nightgown, and we fell naked onto the bed, its ropes creaking beneath us as I reached for her.

  “There is no hurry,” she chided and stayed my eager, roving hands. “We have all night.”

  The determination not to make a fool of myself proved stronger than my desire and embarrassment heated my face as I drew away. “Forgive me.”

  Her laugh was low and indulgent. “This is your first time, non?”

  When I nodded, she leaned over and kissed me. “There is nothing to forgive. I can teach you all you need to know,” she said. “But first, you must learn patience.” Firelight shadowed her face.

  I wasted no further time on talk but leaned over to kiss her and cupped her breasts reverently in my hands. They were small but perfect. I lowered my mouth to one pink, puckered tip and drew on it as she melted back against the pillows with a sigh, her fingers threaded through my hair.

  “Do I please you?” I whispered, as I kissed her neck and the slope of her shoulder.

  In answer, she sat up and pushed me back, running her fingers lightly over my chest and stomach. “Oui. Now, lie back,” she whispered as she met my eyes. “You will like what I do, I promise.”

  I watched, spellbound, as she kissed her way slowly, delicately, down my body, and I groaned in shock and delight as her mouth, soft and sweet, wrapped around me. Her lips were warm and pliant.

  “You… are a witch,” I gasped, even as I tangled my fingers in her hair and spent into her mouth. I shuddered with spasms of pleasure for what felt like eternity but was surely only a few moments.

  She said nothing, only smiled and crawled back up my body. We kissed again, and I tasted myself on her lips and felt her breasts pressing into my chest. She opened her mouth to me and I plunged my tongue inside.

  “And now I wish to return the favor,” I said when at last I dragged my mouth from hers.

  I had no notion of what to do, but she offered no objection as I kissed my way down her body. I was determined, not only to learn, but to master the lesson. Instinct and desire took over as my mouth found the place between her legs and settled upon her. She let out a low, throaty moan. As my tongue explored, tentatively at first and then with greater boldness and abandon, she gasped and opened herself to me and shuddered a moment later in release. When her cries of abandon subsided, she wrapped her legs around me and urged me inside her. I needed no encouragement. I thrust into her with a ragged exhalation and closed my eyes. Such was my ecstasy that everything else fell away—the dying flames in the fire, the creak of the bed, Lady Harlow’s cries, our shadows writhing together on the wall—and I felt only sensation, and heat, and the greatest pleasure a man can know.

  “The student has surpassed the teacher,” she said as I rolled away, and with a catlike smile, she nestled herself against me.

  “You are satisfied, I hope?” I asked and stroked her hair, damp now from our exertions, away from her face.

  “Never more so.” Her lips brushed mine, and she sat up. “A glass of wine to celebrate?” She reached for a bottle and two tumblers on the bedside table.

  I nodded and closed my eyes as I relished the moment. I was a boy no longer. The thought filled me with pride but also a brief and unaccountable twinge of regret. There was no possibility of turning back; I had well and truly left my boyish self behind.

  She pressed a glass into my hand. “Drink. You acquitted yourself well.”

  “Well enough to go with you to Paris?” I asked as I took a sip of wine.

  She paused. “Paris?”

  “Yes. I want to go with you.” I sat up, enthusiasm lending fervor to my words as I added, “I won’t be dissuaded. I want to spend every day, every minute, with you.”

  “And every night, too?” She smiled indulgently and set her glass aside. “La! You will soon wear me out with your passion.”

  “But you shall sleep like an angel every night. I will see to it.”

  “You talk nonsense. Finish your wine, and we will talk more of this notion of yours later.”

  I did as she asked and tipped another swallow of wine down my throat. I made a face. “What swill is this? It tastes odd. Bitter.”

  “You can hardly expect to find a fine vintage in a place like this.” Her words were sharp. She took the glass from my hand and said more gently, “It is late. Go to sleep.”

  “Only if you promise to lay beside me.” I patted the mattress next to me. I felt suddenly tired, my eyes so heavy I could scarce keep them open as she slid in beside me and rested her head on my chest.

  “Sleep,” she whispered.

  I smiled drowsily as she caressed my chest. “I love you, Clémence.”

  Her fingers stilled as I closed my eyes in pleasurable exhaustion and drifted towards sleep.

  She did not reply.

  * * *

  A loud knocking on the door thrust me awake. I sat up in confused alarm. It was barely light outsid
e.

  I groped for my breeches and pulled them on, my head muzzy and thick as I stumbled to the door and flung it open. “What the devil do you mean, waking us at this hour—”

  I stopped and stared at the man standing before me. “Darcy,” I croaked.

  He brushed past me and strode inside the room. “Shut the door.”

  I did as he ordered and turned around to face him. “Why are you here? If you think to stop me from being with Clémence, you are already too late.” I looked at the bed, and I saw to my shock that it was empty. I could not make sense of it. “Where…where is she? Where is Lady Harlow?”

  “Well on her way to Calais by now, I should imagine.”

  “What?” My eyes widened and I ran to the window, pushing roughly past him. Ostlers scurried to and fro in the yard below and passengers waited to board a newly arrived post-chaise, but of my lover, there was no sign. “You are mistaken. She must have gone downstairs. I have to find her—”

  “She is not here.”

  Darcy met my agitation with composure as I turned back to face him. “What do you mean? She cannot be gone! We were to leave together this morning to go to Paris. We had plans.”

  “It seems her plans have changed, and she has gone without you.” He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a letter. “She left you this.”

  He held out a note sealed with red wax and I snatched it from his hand. My mind reeled. “When? How do you come to have it? And how did you know to find me here?” I demanded.

  “Lady Harlow sent word to me late yesterday afternoon. She wrote to inform me”—he stopped and added with impatience—“read the letter.”

  With trembling fingers, I broke the seal and opened the missive. I did my best to make sense of her elegant scrawl. “I cannot allow you to make such a grave mistake… there is no future for us… I wish you well and will treasure your memory even as I grieve your loss…”

  I looked up from the note in deepening confusion. “I do not understand. Why would she do this? She has abandoned me! If what you say is true—that she sent word to you yesterday—then she must have known all along that we… that I...” I rounded on him. “It was your doing, wasn’t it? You asked her to write this letter. You demanded she leave me behind.”