Darcy's Temptation

by Regina Jeffers

  “Please, Dearest One,” he implored her. “Help me to understand your anxiousness.”

  “If it was not for me, you would never have gone to Hull, and you would be home at Pemberley with Elizabeth anticipating the birth of your first child.” Georgiana’s words came in bursts of emotions.

  “Who says I shall not be anticipating the birth of my child?” Darcy tried to sound casual.

  Georgiana’s eyes searched his countenance. “Then you remember Elizabeth after all?”

  Darcy guarded his words, not wishing to give his sister false hope. “I admit to experiencing difficulty in determining what I actually remember and what I have been told about my wife; I can only say I will do my best to make things pleasant and agreeable for all of us.”

  “Pleasant and agreeable?” she challenged.“It may be the last time I get the opportunity to say this, Brother, but I do not want to see you only pleasant and agreeable with Elizabeth.You were pleasant and agreeable from the time of our mother’s death, through the passing of our father, and up until you met Elizabeth Bennet.Yet, you did not live; you never showed the passion you have for our ancestral home, for me, and for life. Please, Fitzwilliam, do not just pretend to be pleasant and agreeable.”

  Not accustomed to her asserting herself, Darcy leaned back away from Georgiana. “It appears my wife has a profound influence on you,” he cautioned. “I am not sure whether I approve. Men do not prefer their women so spirited.”

  “Then you will find no preference for my sister,” Georgiana asserted. “You were exposed to fine society, Fitzwilliam, your entire life. Why then did you wait until you were eight and twenty to take a wife? I saw women give deference to your every thought, but you never seriously considered any of them as marriageable material.You may need to ask yourself what it is Elizabeth has which the others did not.You fell in love with her once; allow yourself to do so again.”

  “As I said before, I will try, Georgiana.” Darcy placated her disquietude with a condescending tone.“I will do what is best for you and for the estate.”

  “Do what is best for you, Fitzwilliam, and the rest will come naturally.”

  He patted her hand to calm his sister’s anxiety.“Would it be too much to ask why you blame yourself for my accident?”

  “When we attended Edward and Anne’s engagement party, we met Captain Rutherford, who took an interest in Mr. Harrison.”

  “Mr. Harrison again?” Darcy questioned. “Exactly what is his connection to our family?”

  “Your horse Cerberus is from his father’s estate. Mr. Harrison sought your advice when he assumed the running of Hines Park.” Georgiana shifted her eyes away from Darcy’s, fearing he might recognize her regard for Chadwick Harrison in her countenance.

  “Then why did the captain take an interest in Mr. Harrison? Harrison is not in debt to the man, is he?” Darcy’s voice became louder.

  “Mr. Harrison,” Georgiana began, with some nervousness, “carries strong beliefs regarding the emancipation of the African slaves.The captain has an opposing viewpoint.”

  “Then why would I go to see Hannah More? I have not taken up the flag of the abolitionist?” Darcy found the idea amusing.

  Georgiana did not know how to explain her feelings about Mr. Harrison without upsetting Darcy further. “The captain noted our family held Mr. Harrison in some regard, and while we shared a dance set, the man questioned me extensively about Mr. Harrison. I foolishly told Mr. Harrison, and he approached you about the ‘supposed’ danger in which the captain placed our family. Miss More was to share some information regarding the captain with you.”

  Darcy quickly realized Georgiana omitted some pertinent details. “May I ask what else you have not told me about Mr. Harrison?”

  Again, Georgiana lowered her eyes. Darcy noted a blush overspread her face. “Mr. Harrison has indicated a desire to get to know me better.” She barely whispered the words.

  “He did what?” Darcy demanded. Georgiana jumped at the sound of his anger.“I will not have it, Georgiana.You have not even been presented to society!”

  Georgiana fought back the tears that formed in her eyes. “Elizabeth told Mr. Harrison you would not entertain such ideas until after my next birthday; she handled it as she thought you would want it to be done, Sir.”

  “Elizabeth again!” he fumed. “She takes on a great deal speaking for me in my absence.”

  “You asked her to do so, Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana pleaded for his reason. “Her decisions do not come lightly; you will find my sister is very astute.”

  Darcy tried to calm his racing heart.“Before I will entertain any offers for your hand, Georgiana, you will be presented to Society as a proper lady—as is your due. I will not tolerate your being whisked off into a marriage to the first man who presents himself to you.”

  By now, Georgiana’s own nerves frayed. Her fears of an arranged marriage to a man she could not affect resurfaced. “The first man who wished to whisk me off into a marriage was George Wickham.You thwarted that plan, Brother. Please do not assume Mr. Harrison is of the same material. He is amiable and shows great promise.Those were your own words come back to haunt you.As far as Society and the Season, how may I go to London? Elizabeth’s confinement will come about the same time.”

  “That does not mean we should postpone your Coming Out,” Darcy protested.

  “It most certainly does,” she countered.“You cannot desert your wife during her lying in!”

  “Then we will consider a shortened season.You are my first responsibility, Georgiana. Our father charged me to take care of your future.”

  Georgiana looked at him in disbelief. She knew from the past she was not likely to change her brother’s mind.Their relationship progressed so much this year. Darcy accepted her—valued her. How could she return to the submissive being she was in those years following her parents’ passing? “My future is secure as long as I am with you and Elizabeth at Pemberley. Please do not send me away, Fitzwilliam. I have no desire to return to London. Everything I need to be happy is tied to my life at Pemberley.” Georgiana’s voice came out small.

  “I would not be sending you away, Dearest One, if we present you to Society,” Darcy reasoned. “We would both be doing our duty to our name—to our family.”

  “Name and family do not guarantee the merit of a person’s life,” she mumbled under her breath. Georgiana knew her chance of finding happiness with Mr. Harrison suddenly decreased with her brother’s return to Pemberley. How shall I survive without the chance of one day being Mr. Harrison’s wife? What may I do to change Fitzwilliam’s mind? Georgiana offered her brother a faint smile of affirmation, but the chaos of her mind continued well after he departed. It robbed her of much of the sleep she needed to face the quagmire awaiting them at Pemberley.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Surprises are foolish things.The pleasure is not enhanced,

  and the inconvenience is often considerable.”

  Jane Austen, Emma, 1815

  When the coach pulled up in front of the house, Elizabeth, Kitty, Jane Bingley, and Anne de Bourgh awaited the travelers. Evidently, Elizabeth ordered the servants to relay the first sightings of the coach.The colonel alighted first and helped Georgiana to debark. Mr. Bingley followed her closely.There were a few brief seconds of absolute stillness before Darcy stepped from the livery. Elizabeth gasped and immediately rushed to him, encircling his waist with her arms while sobbing into the collar of his waistcoat. Burying her face into his chest, she mumbled, “Thank God—Fitzwilliam—thank God, you are all right.”

  Darcy knew instinctively who the woman who held him so closely must be, but from the coach’s window, he realized this woman’s countenance was not one he readily recognized, although subconsciously he knew her to be the one from his dreams. He nodded to the colonel to take the others into the house before he took Elizabeth forcibly by the arms and removed her grip on his being. “Mrs. Darcy,” he stammered. “May we not go into the house? We are making q
uite a scene. I do not wish to be the talk of the servant quarters this evening.” His voice held a coldness Elizabeth did not recognize.

  “A scene?” Elizabeth questioned while looking around sheepishly.

  “Yes, Madam,” Darcy addressed her formally. “If you have no objection, I will freshen my clothes and then meet you in the study.” Then he strode away from her toward the open door. Elizabeth stood bewitched by the abruptness of her husband’s exit as a single teardrop slid down her face. Slowly and methodically, she, too, turned toward the house.

  Georgiana came back to wait for Elizabeth once she noted how Darcy purposely left his wife in the carriageway. When Elizabeth reached the top step leading to the entrance, Georgiana rushed forward to take the woman, whom she felt knew her better than anyone, into her arms. Elizabeth swayed as the adrenaline rush left her, and Georgiana supported her until they seated themselves in the drawing room.

  Miraculously, all the travelers, and even Kitty, disappeared into their chambers.“Fitzwilliam is not well, Elizabeth,” Georgiana tried to explain. “He was attacked along the road and apparently is having some trouble remembering all the details of his life.”

  The girl’s words dug deep into Elizabeth’s subconscious. Her eyes enlarged as she softly responded,“Do you mean Fitzwilliam knows me not?”

  Georgiana dropped her eyes. She instinctively moved closer to support Elizabeth’s sagging body, and Elizabeth rested her head on the girl’s shoulder. “My brother,” she began quietly, “remembers little after our father’s death. He no longer knows Mr. Bingley, your family, his life the last six years, or you. Edward and I tried to explain things, and Fitzwilliam knows what happened; yet, he possesses no actual recollection of the events.”

  The finality of her words hurt Elizabeth with an indescribable pain. How could Darcy not remember her—they were like kindred souls crying out to each other in the night. “It cannot be, Georgiana,” Elizabeth whispered.“Fitzwilliam and I are mysteriously united by some association of the spirit—you have seen it, have you not? We only know each other.”

  Georgiana took Elizabeth’s hand.“You will find each other again—of that fact, I have no doubt. You must be patient; Fitzwilliam six years ago was so frightened, believing he could not handle Pemberley and be my guardian. It was daunting—an experience he must now relive, along with the knowledge he now has you and your unborn child as additional responsibilities. This has to be exasperating for him, and I can honestly say he was not always the easiest person with whom to live in those days.We must remember the Fitzwilliam we loved of late is part of that scared young man of three and twenty.”

  Elizabeth gasped,“I do not know what to do, Georgiana.”

  “I am sure neither does Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana reasoned.

  “Tell me.” Elizabeth searched Georgiana’s countenance for the truth. “Tell me what you remember of him in those days.” Elizabeth stifled her sobs.“I must know what to expect when I speak to him again.”

  “My brother has—had an idolized opinion of our parents. They married for love, but they were a product of their time. They taught my brother duty first—above all other things.You know of my parents’ duty to our tenants. Fitzwilliam was brought up in opulence, and often he came off as proud and leaden, but we know he is a different man; he is a man who desperately needs to be loved. Do not stop loving my brother,” Georgiana pleaded.

  “I will always love your brother, Georgiana.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled from fear of what would happen next; yet, the unspoken truth led her to realize loving Darcy and living with him were two different things.

  When Darcy reached the top of the staircase, he turned to the left toward his chambers. “Mr. Darcy, Sir,” Henry caught his attention.“This way, Sir.”

  “Henry, I am pleased to see you.” Henry served Fitzwilliam Darcy for many years, long before the passing of the elder Mr. Darcy. Darcy followed the valet to what was once his father’s chambers. Darcy stepped into the room, and memories of playing on the floor of this very room as a small child flooded his mind.

  “My father’s old room,” he mumbled as he turned round and round in the center of the floor. On sensory overload, flashes of memories invaded his mind. Nearly dizzy from the swirling images, Darcy grabbed his head for balance.

  Henry immediately rushed to support his master. “I am here, Mr. Darcy. Let me help you to a chair.We are so pleased to have you back at Pemberley; the staff and your family felt your absence considerably. I arranged a bath for you and clean attire, Sir.”

  “Thank you, Henry,” Darcy nearly whispered. “I will rest here until you are ready for me.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Henry made his bow and exited toward Darcy’s dressing room.

  “Henry,” Darcy called.

  The man paused at the door. “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Am I to assume Mrs. Darcy has my mother’s previous quarters?” Darcy did not know why he asked, but it seemed important somehow.

  “Yes, Sir,” Henry nodded,“through the sitting room, Sir.”

  Darcy nodded also and then leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes to think about his life at Pemberley and how everything had changed.

  He sat, heart racing, trying to recapture his composure. Just stepping into this bedroom took Darcy’s senses to another level. Images of his mother and his father surrounded him.The furnishings were different—more muted tones—more to Darcy’s liking—but definitely his father’s quarters. His father’s dominating presence filled him as he sat there, trying to remember his life—remember anything. Could he do this again? Could he become the Master of Pemberley?

  The elder Darcy warned his son repeatedly of those who would flatter him to become an intimate. Darcy learned his place in the world—an air of confidence and an aristocratic demeanor. He wanted desperately to replicate his father—a great man—a well-respected man.The elder Darcy came from a respectable, honorable, and ancient family. His mother Lady Anne came from a line of noble earls; she gave him his identity, his name of Fitzwilliam. But he lost all that—all that history—on the road to Hull. Now, he knew not what to do. His responsibilities were so numerous. Could he be the man his father taught him to be? Darcy feared failure; he feared loss of respect—loss of face in society.

  Another fear crept into his memory. As he circled the room moments ago, an image of the woman who was his wife flashed across the reaches of his mind. She lay across his bed, muddy and covered in blood, and he cut her clothing from her body, cleaning and bandaging her wounds. Tears streamed down his face, and he offered the woman endearments. How could he love this woman so much and now have no feelings for her? How could he learn to love her again? His wife’s connections went against everything his parents expected of him, but Darcy could not turn the woman away. She carried the heir to Pemberley, and duty required he have an heir.

  Darcy spent nearly an hour in his study reviewing the estate books before Elizabeth found enough courage to approach him. The light tap on the door told Darcy the moment he anticipated since leaving Darling Hall arrived. “Come,” he called automatically.

  Elizabeth Darcy entered his study unsure of her reception. “Mrs. Darcy,” he said, upon seeing her enter the room. He left the desk and came forward to meet her. Darcy led Elizabeth to a chair and took the adjoining one. Elizabeth searched his face for a semblance of her dear husband in the man seated across from her. Trying to get enough nerve to begin his conversation, Darcy cleared his throat twice and ran his fingers through his hair. “This is an awkward occurrence in which we find ourselves, Mrs. Darcy,” he still spoke formally.

  “It is indeed, Sir,” Elizabeth tried to keep her voice even.

  “I suppose I should offer you an explanation.”

  Elizabeth looked about nervously, not wishing to meet his eyes with hers. “There is no need, Sir; your sister volunteered an explanation of your homecoming.”

  Darcy looked at her shamefacedly. “I am sorry this brings you grief.” He tried to look dir
ectly into her eyes to relay his truth, but the depth of the emotions he found there bothered him, and he looked away without knowing. “I want to assure you, I will treat you with all the respect due you as my wife. I will do my best to allow my regard for you to grow naturally. Of course, our child will receive the best of care as the heir to this estate.”

  “I understand your expectations, Sir, for our child,” Elizabeth stammered, “but I do not understand your expectations for me as your wife. Am I expected to pretend not to love you?”Tears filled her eyes.“The prayer the devil answers.”

  “What? What did you say?”

  “The prayer the devil answers,” Elizabeth muttered. “It is a phrase I learned from you, Fitzwilliam.”

  “I know it well; my mother said it often.” Darcy felt the agitation inherent in the moment, and he strode to the window to ease his discomfort.

  “I prayed continuously for your return,” Elizabeth lamented.“Little did I know my prayers would. . . .”

  Darcy turned back to look at her.“I wish I could say something,” he whispered,“to make this easier.”

  Elizabeth could hear no more; she bolted from the chair and fled the room without even a “by your leave.” Darcy stood in amazement. How had he become involved with such a highly emotional woman? She knew not even how to have a civil conversation. Many couples in society held no regard for each other, but they managed households with civilities. It was not his fault the last couple of years no longer existed in his memory. He hoped to make the best of a bad situation; he tried to do his duty by the woman. He thought he was being very reasonable.

  Darcy sent for his steward to address the estate books. His ability to run his estate must be proven for the world to accept him, an area often addressed by his father; Darcy wanted to establish his worth. Mr. Howard came laden with his copies of the estate books to his master’s study. Howard was made aware of Mr. Darcy’s health problems, and the steward knew not what to expect. Mr. Howard had served Pemberley since the death of the former steward, Mr. Wickham, George Wickham’s father. Demanding, the elder Mr. Darcy spent much of his time reprimanding Mr. Howard. Early on, Fitzwilliam Darcy chose to imitate his father, but the younger Darcy learned his lessons and took a more cooperative turn in the estate’s business. Pemberley flourished under the son’s control. Howard wondered if the young master would have to learn those lessons again, and would he have to once again withstand Mr. Darcy’s criticisms?