A Touch of Night

by Sarah Hoyt

  "Aptly put," said Elizabeth, thinking of her mother's tendency to over-react at any given situation.

  "But I sense there is still something troubling you."

  "There is still the question of who let Jane out of the house, and why."

  Mrs Gardiner sobered considerably at this reflection. She had no answer for Elizabeth.

  She wanted to ask about the Darcys and the very flattering invitation to their home. Though she came from Lambton, close to the Darcys' great estate of Pemberley, their families had always moved in very different circles, and she was at a loss to explain his attentions to her family. Or rather, she was not at a loss at all. She thought the gentleman very much besotted with her niece.

  And this brought another worry for Jane's condition. Mr. Darcy was clearly a great friend of Bingley's. It was no secret in Derbyshire how proud the Darcys were and such great families were likely to set themselves up as having purer blood than anyone else. If he found out Jane was a were, would he think himself obliged to denounce her, to spare his friend's family? Did he know about Mr. Bingley's condition?

  She wanted to ask all this, but she looked at Elizabeth's dancing eyes and slight smile, and she could not. She sensed too that Elizabeth would never give her an answer that might endanger others' secrets. For now she had to be satisfied with Jane's courtship and hope that Elizabeth wasn't set on a course to break her own heart.

  * * * *

  The next day they were shown into a downstairs salon at the Darcy townhouse. It was an elegant, well appointed room quite unlike the cozy yellow sitting room they had entered from the balcony the other evening.

  Georgiana greeted them warmly as Darcy looked on, his pleasure at the meeting evident. Georgiana's companion, Mrs. Annesley, was also present, and she soon entered into conversation with Mrs. Gardiner. Mr. Darcy sat beside Jane and spoke to her while Georgiana took Elizabeth over to her pianoforte to help her choose some music.

  "We must play a duet," said Georgiana.

  "I play very ill indeed," admitted Elizabeth. "I do not practice as much as I ought."

  "My brother has told me you perform most pleasingly," countered Georgiana.

  "He is too polite," said Elizabeth.

  "As to that, I will judge for myself presently," said Georgiana, "but I actually brought you away here under false pretenses."

  "Oh?"

  Georgiana lowered her voice. "I have learned that you are acquainted with a certain gentleman, who is indeed no gentleman, and I wanted to issue a warning."

  "Of whom do you speak?"

  "Mr. Wickham."

  Elizabeth remembered how Mr. Wickham had tried to turn her against Mr. Darcy by telling her things about him which had later proved to be untrue, but Mr. Darcy had refused to go into any details about Mr. Wickham, only warning her that he was not to be trusted and was guilty of the vilest form of treachery. "Your brother told me he was a traitor."

  "But I do not think he has told you what it is Mr. Wickham has done. My brother is . . . reticent to expose him, because it involves me personally. Mr. Wickham had hopes to make his fortune by marriage to me."

  "But . . . he was your steward's son! Your family would never countenance such an alliance." Elizabeth was not only thinking of Mr. Darcy's pride, but of his Aunt Catherine, and his uncle, the earl.

  "Mr. Wickham hoped to ensnare me. He thought me young and gullible. What he did not know was that I loved another already." Her voice trembled. "I told him as much, without revealing that it was Lord Sevrin I loved, but somehow he guessed. And then somehow he discovered that Lord Sevrin was a were. He denounced him to the RWH. I know he did!" A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away.

  Elizabeth put a hand on her shoulder and said softly. "You don't need to continue. This must be terrible for you."

  "I must. He gained his post with the Gold Coats as a reward for his treachery. Lord Sevrin had been a classmate of his at Cambridge. They had at one time been friends. Mr. Wickham is a very dangerous man to know. I do not want your sister to be put in a position of peril."

  "Do not worry, Miss Darcy. When I return home I shall take care to keep my sisters from associating with him. I have heard, too, that the RWH regiment will be moving to Brighton soon so we can all breathe easier."

  "I am glad to hear that," said Georgiana with a sigh. Her lovely eyes, still bordered with tears, seemed haunted with memories of her lost love. What must it do to a gently-nurtured girl to know her blameless fiance had been beheaded in public and branded vicious and bestial to boot? Elizabeth shuddered to imagine it.

  "Thank you for sharing this confidence with me. I can only imagine what it must have cost you." She squeezed the girl's hand, gently, in reassurance, then forced a smile to her countenance. "Now, I think we must choose some music, for I know your brother abhors deceit of any kind, so he must not find us out."

  Georgiana smiled and picked up some sheet music from the pile. "I have already chosen this one. Do you know it?"

  Elizabeth perused the sheet. "I think I will be able to muddle through."

  They rejoined to the rest of the party just as Mr. Bingley and his sister were announced.

  "I just had to see you, Miss Darcy," gushed Caroline. "And, of course I wanted to meet dear Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth again," she added insincerely.

  Mr. Darcy gave up his place at Jane's side to Bingley and came over to Elizabeth.

  "You were some time choosing the music."

  "Yes." She blushed slightly, not wanting to give Georgiana away.

  He gave her a speaking look. "I am glad you get along so well with my sister. She needs someone she can trust and confide in. She has... suffered much lately."

  So he hadn't been fooled. But at least he did not know the subject of their conversation -- and nothing in the world could ever induce Elizabeth to share it. Mention of Wickham's name between them had never boded well.

  "Mr. Darcy, it has been an age since we talked," said Caroline Bingley, leaving Georgiana as soon as it appeared that Elizabeth Bennet was attempting to monopolize Darcy as she had in the past. "You must tell me all about your visit with your dear Aunt Catherine in Kent. How I do wish to know more of her!"

  "My sister and Miss Bennet were about to grace us with some music," said Darcy. "Let us sit here where we will have a good view of the pianoforte."

  "Oh yes, let's" cried Miss Bingley. "I delight in music." She sat, turning her chair so that she faced Mr. Darcy, rather than the pianoforte. "Such a treat," she said grimly, as she watched his eyes follow Elizabeth all the way to the instrument.

  Elizabeth would later admit that as far as the music went, they muddled through admirably. Or at least, when Elizabeth looked up from the music, she found Mr. Darcy looking at her, his eyes sparkling with unbound admiration. She wasn't sure if her playing had brought this on. She didn't dare hope it was solely admiration of her, or that the gentleman would overcome the terrible setback she'd dealt him and offer for her again. Oh, what a fool she must be. Now she had refused him, why must she want, of all things, that which she had so hotly spurned?

  She must not think about it. After the wound she'd dealt him, her own suffering must be her just punishment. That they could talk together and banter as friends must be her only consolation. He was the best man she'd ever known, but she had put herself irrevocably beneath his touch.

  And yet, when she took her leave of him a few hours later, she found her hand held a little too long in his warm hand, as he bowed over it and kissed it. A frisson went through her, and she felt colour rush to her face. Very old fashioned people and flirts kissed hands. But Mr. Darcy was neither very old fashioned, nor a flirt. And yet he had kissed her hand, and she would forever treasure the feel of his lips upon the back of it.

  She looked up in confusion and found him observing her intently. Whatever he saw in her features must have gratified him, for he squeezed her hand a little and, with a quick glance sideways to ascertain Miss Bingley was quite busy saying he
r goodbyes to Georgiana in fulsome excess, he said in a voice that was a little more than a whisper, "I wonder if I might perhaps take you for a walk along that lime avenue sometime soon. I believe the ducks might miss us."

  "Indeed, sir," she said smiling and not quite knowing what she said.

  * * * *

  The next morning Elizabeth was sitting in the drawing room at Gracechurch Street, thinking with pleasure about the visit of the day before. When she had looked up and met Mr. Darcy's gaze after indicating her willingness to receive him again soon, she met with an expression so full of fiery intensity that she felt as if she were looking directly into the soul of the dragon.

  In the blank spaces of the night, she had let her thoughts soar as if on dragon's wings, imagining that he still loved her. Still wanted her. Would propose to her again.

  Her aunt and Jane came into the room to see if she wanted to join them in a trip to the park with the children, but she declined. That look, and Mr. Darcy's veiled comments to her upon saying his goodbyes, led her to believe she might receive a visit from him. And she wanted to be alone when he came, so that he could speak what was in his mind. For the sake of relieving her feelings, she was willing to sound like a brazen hussy. But not in front of her aunt and sister.

  As she waited, the post was brought in, and it contained a letter for her from Longbourn. The direction was written so ill she could not make out whether it was from Mary or her mother, or even from Kitty. Lydia she did not expect a letter from. As it turned out, the letter was from Mary, but it was not in her usual self-contained style at all.

  Dear sister, a calamity of the most serious nature has befallen our family!

  What is it now? thought Elizabeth. Has Kitty finally succeeded in hiding Fordyce's sermons in a place Mary will never find them?

  I hate to be the bearer of such bad tidings, but I fear I must as our mother has taken to her bed, our father has hidden himself in his study with Colonel Forster, and Kitty is crying in her room, and rightly so. She wants prayer and absolution, though she does not deserve it. But our youngest sister, the one who is the cause of all this soul destroying grief, is the least deserving of all. She ought be tossed from the bosom of the family, only she has made that impossible by already having torn herself from us by her own sordid act. She has, in effect, ruined us all with her weakness and scandalous behaviour. In short, she has left all of those who love her, despite her many faults, and thrown herself under the power of Mr. Wickham!

  "What?" cried Elizabeth out loud. "How can this be?"

  She continued to peruse the letter which persisted in the same vein until the writing changed and she could detect her father's hand.

  Dearest Elizabeth. Could you and Jane please come home at once and save my sanity? Your mother needs to be comforted and I need to be off in search of your sister and that scoundrel. Mary can only sermonize and Kitty wail. From Colonel Forster I have learned that Lydia and Wickham have been traced to London but no further. It seems they are not for the border after all, which means I shall have to go to London and fight him, or so your mother says. I just hope I can patch up a marriage, though such a son is not what I had in mind.

  Elizabeth threw down the letter and jumped up. "Oh! I must find my aunt!" she cried, just at the same time that Mr. Darcy was ushered into the room.

  He rushed to her side. "E . . . Miss Elizabeth! You are not well!"

  "I am well," she replied. "But I have had dreadful news from home. My aunt!"

  "Where has she gone? I will send a servant."

  "To the park with Jane and the children!"

  Mr. Darcy left the room for a moment and then returned. Elizabeth had crumpled back down upon her chair and was searching for a handkerchief.

  "Is there anything I can do for your present relief?" asked Darcy. "A glass of wine, perhaps?"

  Elizabeth indicated the table where Mr. Gardiner kept his brandy and Mr. Darcy lost no time in pouring her a shot. He hovered over her as she drank it. "Is someone unwell? Your mother? Your father?"

  "No, it is nothing like that! My stupid, stupid sister Lydia has run off with . . . with Mr. Wickham. I should have warned them about him -- now we are all ruined!"

  Mr. Darcy had crouched down beside her and taken her hand in his, rubbing it as she spoke, but now this movement ceased.

  "Mr. Wickham? What is being done?"

  "My father begs for Jane and me to return home. He will come to London in search of them to force them into marriage, but how is a man like him to be worked on? Lydia has the paltriest of dowries! We have nothing to offer him! And besides, how can we admit a traitorous member of the RWH into the family? What will become of Jane?"

  She threw her handkerchief over her face and burst into tears as Darcy stood stock still before her, his face a dark, angry mask.

  After a while he bowed and said, with the old stiffness in his manners. "I will leave you. In truth, you have probably been wishing me well away this while."

  "No--" Elizabeth started, and then realized what she was about to say -- beg him to stay, when any man of honour would wish to abstract himself from her family's dishonour; beg him to stay when any relationship with her must mean endangering himself, now. She managed to rise, though she wasn't sure how, on trembling legs, and make him a very awkward courtesy. "You are too good, too kind," she said. "I beg you to preserve your safety above all. I couldn't stand to know you were at risk because of me or my disastrous family."

  The look he bent upon her was so uncomprehending that she wasn't sure he'd even understood the words, let alone the meaning of her speech. His eyes appeared very dark and as though locked behind an impenetrable barrier of reserve and self control.

  Oh, odious of her to regret she could no longer glimpse the dragon within. Odious, odious to wish he'd be so foolhardy to expose himself to the danger of a brother who was in the RWH and who was known to have already turned in one of Mr. Darcy's best friends.

  "Yes, yes," Mr. Darcy said, not sounding at all like he knew what he said. "I must be off. Do not trouble yourself. I will see myself out."

  With a deep bow, he was gone, leaving Elizabeth to watch him vanish from sight down the hallway. She was very sure she'd never see him again. And though she should be glad he was preserving her safety, she felt as though her heart were clenched within a glove of red-hot iron.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As the coach trundled further from London and closer to Longbourn, Elizabeth scanned the darkening sky for the glimpse of a sinuous gold and green body, listened with her all for the sound of wings beating against the wind, but with each mile her hope dimmed.

  She had known all along it was too much to expect of him, but heartfelt wishes were difficult to extinguish. In her rational mind she knew that the most foolhardy thing for Mr. Darcy to do would be to accompany the coach in dragon form, so why did she even wish it in her heart of hearts? His safety must be as important to her as the safety of Jane, and even silly Lydia, for that matter. A dragon flying above their coach would put both Mr. Darcy and Jane in danger, and yet . . . love was making her foolish. And her love was hopeless, too.

  She had to accept the harsh truth. No matter that he had cared for her in the past, or that he had shown her and her sister extreme kindness during their stay in London, Mr. Darcy's attentions to her were surely at an end. And she shouldn't wish it otherwise. If she truly loved him, his safety should be more important to her than any other consideration. So wanting him with her, and in harm's way, was irredeemably selfish. And yet how she missed him.

  She sighed and Jane reached out to pat her hand. "All will be well Elizabeth. Surely our sister and Mr. Wickham are already married and we will be greeted with such tidings upon our arrival," she said, mistakenly interpreting what was troubling Elizabeth the most.

  "Can you wish for such a brother? A Royal Were-Hunter?"

  Jane's face was white and drawn and her eyes filled with sorrow, but she answered evenly. "I mustn't put my own fears above Lyd
ia's happiness. It is hoped they will settle a distance from Longbourn so the danger to me is lessened."

  "Would that there were some other way of reconciling our sister's scandalous behaviour!" Elizabeth's eyes flashed.

  But their arrival was not greeted with the news of their sister's nuptials, little though Elizabeth had expected it. Their father's face was haggard -- cut with worry lines and sagging cheeks. His relief upon seeing Elizabeth was palpable but the relaxing of tension on his face made him look even older.

  "You have finally come!" he said as he hugged both his eldest daughters to him. "Now I am free to go and search for the blaggard."

  "Has there not been any news?" asked Jane, hanging on to her glimmering expectations.

  "Colonel Forster has not discovered them, but it is certain that they have gone no further than London. Though we thought they might have gone to Gretna Green, it seems quite certain they took the London road."

  "Will it be so very difficult to find them?"

  "The city is a labyrinth," sighed Mr. Bennet.

  Jane shuddered, and Elizabeth knew she must be recalling the terror of the time she had spent lost and alone in the London slums.

  "How is mama?" asked Elizabeth.

  "All I can say is thank goodness for laudanum," said Mr. Bennet., "or none of the rest of us would have had any peace these past two days. Mary is with her now, reading sermons no doubt. But at least she's with her. Once you have rested from your trip you ought take them some tea -- I know not which of the two will need the relief more."

  There was nothing for it but to face the task at hand -- at least it would keep Elizabeth from dwelling upon regrets and things that could never come to pass. Occupation, she had found, was the best thing for the troubled mind.

  * * * *

  "Let me understand this completely," said Bingley as he paced the library of Darcy's townhouse. "Wickham has run off with Miss Bennet's youngest sister and you have no intention of publicly denouncing him?"