She appeared perplexed by this odd choice of subject. “I believe so. I was caught in a sudden downpour on my way here, and Georgiana generously lent me some dry clothing.”
Of their own volition, his eyes traveled over her form, noticing how Georgiana’s dress was a little tight on Elizabeth, outlining her legs and drawing attention to her bosom, framed by the lace of the dress’s neckline…. The bodice revealed more cleavage than Darcy usually saw on Elizabeth. So much creamy skin … the gentle swell of her breasts … His eyes feasted on the sight.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. Damnation! Did she think he was leering? Had he been leering? Good Lord, perhaps he had been leering!
He jerked his eyes up to her face. Correct though it may be, he must disabuse her of that notion. “The color suits you.” He tried to remember the color without looking down again but quickly gave up. “And t-the—” He gestured wildly with his hands. “The lace frames your—” he caught himself at the last moment, “face to great effect.”
“Yes, I daresay if I should wear this dress to the park, all the young men would be admiring my face.” Even foxed, Darcy could hear the mocking edge in her voice.
Damn! Now he had offended her!
His thoughts were sluggish. I must say something to lessen her contempt! “Y-you are in hood gealth—good health?” Darcy winced. Oh yes, he told himself, she will be very impressed.
A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “I am, thank you. And you?”
“I am well.” He nodded vigorously, hoping to demonstrate his lack of inebriation. Unfortunately, the sudden movement caused an attack of dizziness, and he grabbed the wall for balance.
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose as she watched him. “I did not see you at dinner. Were you at your club?”
Ah, she wonders where I came to be so intoxicated, not to mention disheveled. No doubt she wonders if I carouse regularly. Certainly it was not unusual behavior for many other men of Darcy’s class.
“No,” Darcy asserted firmly. Elizabeth tilted her head to the side and regarded him questioningly. Good Lord, does she believe I visited a public house or, even worse, a mistress? “I have been here—in my study—alone.” She nodded quickly as though his statement made sense when, in fact, he knew drinking alone in his study was hardly less pathetic. “I had many matters of business to attend to.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wished them back. Only a fool would believe he had been working in his study, and Elizabeth was not a fool.
“I see,” she said solemnly, but her lips twitched as if she suppressed a smile.
He must escape before further mortifying himself. But it was difficult to pull himself away when his whole body felt so alive near her. The thought of leaving was like plunging into a cold lake after enjoying a warm bath. Just breathing the same air was a tonic to him. How could he tear himself away from such bliss?
Then he gazed into the fine eyes he knew so well and saw … pity.
I must escape! Darcy removed his hand from the wall experimentally, but immediately, his whole body began to sway.
Elizabeth reached out an arm as if to steady him. “Forgive me, but you do not seem well. Will you not sit down?” Her eyes were dark with concern.
Darcy closed his eyes, willing away the vertigo. I must concentrate all my energy on one single, essential purpose: do not look like a fool. “I thank you, no. I … have not been sleeping well these past days.” Well, that was true enough.
“Perhaps you should lie down. I could summon a footman to help you—”
His first impulse was to avoid sharing the moment with anyone else, even a servant. “No! No footmen.” Instantly, he realized he sounded peevish and ridiculous. “I do not need their help. Sometimes they are just in the way, you know.” Elizabeth made no response, but her expression was dubious. “Always everywhere … in the way … with their feet …” For the love of God, man, will you just close your mouth!
With a quick glimpse at Elizabeth’s face, he saw she was carefully not laughing at him, but her expression was too purposefully blank. I must get out of this situation however I can!
Concentrating his energies on balancing, Darcy pushed away from the wall and staggered for the stairs. Once upstairs and out of Elizabeth’s sight, he could collapse.
He carefully placed one foot in front of the other. One … two … Elizabeth watched his progress with concern in her fine eyes, not realizing how her presence made this operation all the more difficult…
Good. Almost there …
He had almost reached the bottom step when he lost his balance. Flailing, he missed the banister by inches, and his legs slid out from underneath him. He was falling!
Then he felt something—Elizabeth’s shoulder—under his arm, holding him up. Her hand slid around his waist so her arm could further steady him. Darcy was grateful for the rescue, but it created a new dilemma. Perhaps it would have been easier to fall on the floor.
Elizabeth’s body pressed along the entire length of his side, sending tiny electric shivers up and down his spine. Instinctively, his body quickened with desire, demanding that he embrace her and draw her closer.
He was mortified that he required Elizabeth’s help simply to stand upright. He was humiliated by nearly every word that had emerged from his mouth that evening.
And he wished she would never release him.
Her slender body felt so right beside his, a perfect fit. He heard her rapid breathing, enjoyed the warmth of her skin through the thin muslin of her dress, and smelled the rosewater scent he had long associated with her.
And he smelled like a distillery.
How could he find any pleasure in her presence when he had abased himself so thoroughly?
He pulled away. “I thank you for your … assistance, Eliz—Miss Bennet.”
Refusing to release him completely, Elizabeth helped him hobble to a bench under the stairs, placed there, no doubt, for the servants’ use. “Perhaps you should sit here for a while.” Her hand was trembling as she removed it from his arm. Dare he believe she was not unaffected by his touch? He chanced a glance into her eyes, dark and fathomless, but could not decipher the expression he saw there.
Blushing, Elizabeth turned away quickly and strode toward the entrance hall, her heels clicking on the corridor’s wooden floor. “I shall fetch a footman to help you.”
Before she disappeared, however, Darcy’s brain perceived a detail which he had not noticed before.
She was wearing gray. Half mourning. Of course. She was still mourning Richard. It had not been so long since his death.
Darcy rested his head in his hands. What a fool. And more. The worst kind of blackguard. A little port, and all his inhibitions were overcome, all his resolutions of gentlemanly behavior dissolved. With her body pressing against his, he had been a heartbeat away from declaring his feelings. Or, God forbid, kissing her!
The fact that he had not was only a small consolation. How much had he inadvertently revealed to her? Had she guessed how her touch had affected him? Did he disgust her?
He rubbed his face with one hand. Even if she had not guessed, now that she had seen him as a drunken sot, her opinion of him would fall even further. After tonight’s disgraceful behavior, he would not be surprised if she quitted the house and broke off their association.
At least then he would not have to worry she would someday guess his feelings.
But he would be responsible for Georgiana losing Elizabeth’s friendship.
However, maybe all was not lost—yet.
If by some miracle she did not sever all ties to the Darcy family, he would take whatever steps were necessary to redeem himself.
Even if it meant staying away from her.
***
“I have some lovely cream silk which I believe may suit.” The modiste and her assistant bustled about, laying down a bolt of cloth next to one of the dress patterns the Countess of Matlock had selected for her niece.
Elizabeth had expec
ted Georgiana’s coming out to be extravagant, but she had been unprepared for the sheer magnitude of the event. Georgiana’s aunt was outfitting her niece with no fewer than 12 ball gowns, as well as countless day dresses, riding habits, gloves, hats, pelisses, reticules, and other necessities. Some days Georgiana might change her clothing four or five times! She even required a special dress, never to be worn again, for her presentation at Court.
The process was rather interesting, but Elizabeth felt grateful not to be the focus of the countess’s attention. Being more interested in fashion than Elizabeth, Georgiana enjoyed visiting the shops, but some days she simply became overwhelmed by how many people would constantly solicit her opinion. At such moments, Elizabeth would try to intervene, suggesting a trip to Gunter’s for some ices or simply an end to the day’s expedition. While the countess barely tolerated Elizabeth’s interruptions, Georgiana always appeared grateful.
Elizabeth observed Georgiana and her aunt examining different bolts of silk in great detail but did not participate. She simply did not possess the patience for discussions about the minutiae of fabrics.
Her thoughts drifted back to the previous evening’s encounter with Mr. Darcy. The sight of the normally fastidious man so disheveled had been so alarming that she had first believed illness or emotional distress to be the cause. Despite the overwhelming aroma of port, she had been slow to realize his uncharacteristic behavior was the result of inebriation.
She did not believe he regularly imbibed so excessively, but what did she truly know of the man? It would not be so shocking. Many men of the ton drank and gambled to excess at their clubs. But she had never thought Mr. Darcy to be that kind of man, and he had been in his study all evening. Did he habitually drink alone? Would she not have noticed it before now?
No, his behavior simply seemed out of character. Perhaps something had distressed him, and he had sought escape in drink. She found this thought rather disturbing and wished she could do something to help him. But she could do little for Mr. Darcy within the bounds of propriety.
The women had agreed on an ivory damask silk, and now the countess was negotiating a price with the modiste for the various gowns they had selected. Aware the negotiations could take some time, Elizabeth wandered to the shop window, where she could watch the activity on the street. Georgiana joined her, sitting on the window seat while Elizabeth stood.
Naturally, Elizabeth had not whispered a word to Georgiana about her evening encounter with Mr. Darcy, but the younger woman might know the cause of his distress. “How has your brother’s health been?” Elizabeth kept her voice casual and disinterested.
“He is in excellent health, I thank you,” Georgiana replied promptly, but then she frowned. “I should say, rather, he appears well … but I worry about him. He is so quiet and sober…Oh, he is the best brother, and he is always good to me, but there are times I do not believe he is…very happy.”
Elizabeth was not surprised at Georgiana’s insights. Quietly observing others’ behavior, Georgiana understood far more than most people credited. “Have you asked him about his melancholy?”
Georgiana’s lips pressed together before she responded. “Yes, but he denies there is a problem.”
“Is it perhaps because of Richard’s death?” Elizabeth asked.
Georgiana looked down, playing pensively with a ribbon that trimmed her dress. “We all miss Richard exceedingly. He was dear to us and William’s best friend. But these moods began before—he has not been himself for more than a year. Visiting America helped, but even there … I wish I knew what disturbed him, but he always says it is nothing.” As she plucked at it, the ribbon tore off the dress, but Georgiana did not notice; she was looking fiercely up at Elizabeth. “As if I cannot see for myself! I know there is some trouble, but he will not share it with me!”
Elizabeth sat beside Georgiana on the window seat and took her friend’s hand gently in both of hers. “Perhaps he is trying to spare you the worry.”
Georgiana gazed at the street outside the shop, but she was blinking back tears. “I wish he would confide in someone, but Richard was the only one he would talk with. He feels our cousin’s loss most keenly.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Has anyone else noticed his melancholy disposition?”
Georgiana gave a quick laugh. “Aunt Rachel believes he simply needs a wife, but she fears his temper if she speaks of it.”
Marry! Mr. Darcy? Elizabeth found the idea surprising and slightly alarming, but she could not fathom why. He was eminently eligible and of an age when many men settle down. No doubt he had been pursued by many women—beyond Miss Bingley.
Yet somehow she could not picture him with a wife.
Despite his vexing behavior—and occasional drunken fall—she enjoyed his company. However, if he married a well-bred lady of the ton, she would rearrange his life and might not tolerate social interactions with his cousin’s former betrothed. Why did the prospect sadden her?
She realized Georgiana awaited a response. How long had she been lost in reverie? “Does your aunt have anyone particular in mind?” Why did I ask that? I do not actually wish to know who he might marry. For some reason, the thought made her uncomfortable.
“I do not believe so. He has told her not to play matchmaker, but I know she will throw every well-bred lady of the ton his way during the Season. Aunt Rachel is determined we shall both be wed this year!” Georgiana bit her lip pensively and glanced away.
Elizabeth gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Your brother will not force you to marry before you find the right man.” Georgiana nodded quickly. Then she turned back to Elizabeth, lowering her voice to a whisper. “But William told Aunt Rachel he has no intention of marrying!”
Elizabeth felt shock and another, more difficult to identify, emotion at this news. Was it relief? Of course, she reasoned. She did not wish to disturb her comfortable friendship with the Darcys, since they helped her cope with losing Richard.
“Why would he say such a thing?” Georgiana asked, her brow creased with worry.
“Perhaps he simply dislikes your aunt’s matchmaking,” Elizabeth suggested.
Georgiana considered this. “It is true he attends few social events, and he complains about the women of the ton, so false and languid. He has never demonstrated any particular interest in a specific lady.” Georgiana brought her lips close to Elizabeth’s ear and breathed, “Aunt Rachel speculated he has a mistress!”
“Georgiana!” Elizabeth attempted a chastising tone, but she could not stifle a laugh, which provoked a giggle from her friend. “You should not know such women exist!”
This prodded Georgiana into more fits of laughter. “What do you think girls talk about at school?”
Elizabeth smiled indulgently. “Indeed. I have sisters. No doubt some gentlemen would be shocked at some of the topics we have discussed!” She lowered her voice, drawing closer to her friend. “Do you think he does have a mistress?” Why did the thought unsettle her so much?
“No! He would never—I know many men of the ton have them, but William would not.” Georgiana’s whisper hissed with her vehemence. Elizabeth decided the feeling of relief she experienced was for the sake of her friend’s propriety.
Georgiana tugged the sleeve of her dress into place. “If he never marries it would be a shame. He would be an excellent husband.”
Elizabeth nodded agreement and then stopped, amazed. Not too long ago, she would have believed he was the last man in the world who would be a good husband. Had Was it simply that her view of Mr. Darcy undergone such an alteration, or had his behavior itself changed?
Why was everything about the man so confusing?
The door to the shop opened, revealing a well-dressed, plump, older woman. Her eyes lit on Georgiana. The smile that settled over her face made Elizabeth think about Mr. Darcy’s dislike for false women.
“Miss Darcy! What an unexpected delight!” Ingratiating mask in place, the woman bustled over to Georgiana.
“Mrs. Greenlow.” Georgiana dutifully stood and curtsied. “This is my friend, Miss Bennet.”
Mrs. Greenlow barely acknowledged Elizabeth before returning her attention to Georgiana. “You are making your debut this year?” Georgiana nodded. “I suppose your brother will escort you to most of the events of the Season?”
The older woman may not have heard Georgiana’s small sigh, but Elizabeth did. This was the third time Georgiana had been asked about her brother just today. “At least some of them. My aunt and uncle will escort me as well,” Georgiana replied.
Mrs. Greenlow regarded the younger woman for a moment, mouth slightly open. Perhaps she was about to ask for a list of which events Mr. Darcy would attend. Elizabeth smothered a laugh at the thought. Finally, the older woman nodded briskly. “It will be a pleasure to see you then!” She hurried over to the counter, where she engaged the countess and the modiste in a conversation about the price of silk.
Georgiana tipped her head close to Elizabeth’s and murmured, “She has two marriageable daughters and a husband with gambling debts.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened a little at this frank assessment, provoking a cynical laugh from Georgiana. “Did you believe she has a sincere interest in my friendship? Her son is already married, so at least I am safe from her.” She watched the feather on the woman’s hat bob as she spoke to the modiste. “Poor William.”
“Poor Georgiana,” Elizabeth observed, “to be valued primarily for your connection to your brother.”
Georgiana assumed an expression of indignation. “Do not be so severe upon the ton. Many people value my connection to my fortune.” Both women dissolved into laughter, earning a disapproving look from the countess.
Mrs. Greenlow soon rushed out of the shop, and Georgiana was required to consult about lace. Elizabeth wandered about the shop, examining ribbons and fabrics, but her thoughts were far away.
Her conversation with Georgiana had prompted a revelation: she and Mr. Darcy had both been deprived of their primary confidante by Richard’s death. At least Elizabeth had Jane or her Aunt Gardiner to occasionally confide in during the months following Richard’s death, but Mr. Darcy appeared to have no one at all. Perhaps Mr. Bingley, but he was in Hertfordshire and preoccupied with his new daughter. Elizabeth’s heart grew heavy as she imagined his loneliness.
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