"It is not a fever," he commented.
"No," Elizabeth agreed. "Thank you."
They rose simultaneously and rejoined their guests. But though Elizabeth was able to hide her agitation, she could not rid herself of it.
"Why am I so overwrought?" she asked herself silently as she undressed in the small hours of the morning, after returning to Darcy House when the ball had finally ended.
She ought not to have been so put out by what Caroline had insinuated. There had been no evidence whatsoever of Darcy's perfidy. Caroline only told Elizabeth she thought Mr. Darcy would marry her and that he had not.
Elizabeth shivered. She climbed into bed and pulled the covers over herself.
She was lying...wasn't she? she asked herself in the darkness.
Of course Caroline was lying. She had to be! This was merely another one of those ridiculous ploys she dreamt up to prize Elizabeth away from Darcy. She saw through Caroline's previous attempts. None of them upset her. So why had this?
Suddenly it came to her. It wasn't just that Caroline had been nasty, nor even that she herself was attracted to Darcy. It was because Caroline had made her face the truth.
She had been living in a dream as far as Mr. Darcy was concerned. She had been fascinated by him from the moment she had first seen him. That was why she had come on this adventure. She had been prepared to do anything in order to remain with him. She had deliberately ignored everything she had ever been taught. She had stayed on in London defying convention. The only thing that had mattered was that she was near him. She had not counted the cost.
I love him. I want to be his wife, Elizabeth thought.
A shaft of pain went through her and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Suppose she ought to be grateful to Caroline for waking her up, she told herself.
Caroline was right. Darcy's social standing was far higher than Elizabeth's. There would be dozens of women in society who, like Caroline, would leap at the chance of becoming his wife.
Would he select a woman who had no title, no fortune, and no influence? Would he choose a woman who on top of everything else was plain, and worst of all, cursed with a sharp tongue?
It made no difference if Caroline were wrong about Darcy wanting to wed the richest woman in Britain. Elizabeth's case was still hopeless. He would never consider her. Imagine! A poor relation! A runaway with nothing to offer except herself. It was impossible!
I should have known, Elizabeth mused. From the very beginning, his selfish disdain for others was evident. Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any woman without seeing a blemish! I should have guessed that it was far too good to be true.
Women like her did not get that sort of chance in life.
Fate was not so kind. If you slipped off society's ladder then you landed in the gutter.
Elizabeth sighed once more. She ought to have left Darcy when he offered her that fifty pounds.
She tossed and turned restlessly. The sleep she had sought eluded her.
Why did I have to fall in love with him?
If she had not been in love with him, she would never have been so upset about that fifty pounds. If she had not been in love with him she would never have listened to him when he tried to make her stay on after the incident with the fifty pounds. She would have had the strength to go.
If I weren't in love with him...
Elizabeth stopped in mid-thought and choked back a sob. It was useless speculating on what might have happened if. She was in love with Darcy, and that was that. But what was she going to do now?
There were only two possibilities. Either she could stay in London with him, or she could go away...far away.
Elizabeth started to weigh up the pros and cons, to review her future seriously. Her reputation was already ruined.
Of that she was certain. If Caroline had had her doubts as to whether or not Elizabeth was related to Darcy, then society itself would soon begin to query the fact.
Nothing could save her. Darcy was not going to marry her. She knew he wasn't. And that meant that as soon as people learned they were not cousins, her name would be dragged through the mud.
But what would happen if she went back to Longbourn—now, after she had been away for nearly four months? If she went home, Mrs. Bennet would probably catechize her.
She could hear the questions now: Where did you live? Who were your employers? How much did you earn? How much did you spend? How did you get to London? What mode of transport brought you home? What sort of lodgings did you have? What kind of people did you stay with?
Elizabeth's mouth turned down. If her mother found out what she had really been doing in London she would have a fit! Worse still, she would probably demand that Elizabeth marry Mr. Collins to save her reputation.
Elizabeth did not need a crystal ball for that. She knew her mother well enough to gauge her reaction. And Mr. Collins would take her side. He always did.
So, if she went home, to her family, Elizabeth would face the prospect of marriage to Mr. Collins. Of course, her cousin might be too shocked to offer for her once he discovers what she has been doing in London.
She smiled as she pictured him withdrawing. What would her mother do then?
She’d be furious with me! She laughed softly. I won't regret it, though.
But then it occurred to her that if she were not ashamed of what she had done, she could hardly return to Longbourn. For though her mother and Mr. Collins would accept her, they would do so on the understanding that she was contrite. A reformed penitent they could welcome home—an unrepentant sinner was quite another matter.
Should she reconsider? What else could she do if she left Darcy? Seek employment?
For several moments, she examined the prospect. If she sought work, it would be as a governess. She could not remain in London, so she would have to travel to some other town. And then what? She had no references and no qualifications. What would the parents of her future charges say? They would ask her a thousand questions, exactly as Mrs. Bennet would do.
It wasn't that they would be nosy or rude or overly curious. It was merely that being parents, they would wish to make certain that Elizabeth was the right person for the job.
And it is bound to come out about where she had been staying for the past four months—and with whom. She could imagine the indignation that would arouse. People might be extremely tolerant regarding their friends' foibles and indiscretions, but when it came to those who had the care of their children, it was quite another matter.
They would want someone whose academic qualifications were extremely high, as well as someone whose reputation wasn’t tarnished. They would require an armful of references from previous employers, and...
Oh, it is hopeless! Elizabeth decided. I am lost forever. Whatever I do will cause a scandal.
She shuddered but she had to admit it. There was no option left open to her. She would be an outcast, unless Darcy took pity on her and married her to save her good name.
I won't let him, she told herself. She wouldn't cling to him as Caroline has done.
And thus, when the moment came for her to depart, she would be ready.
* * * *
Elizabeth smiled at Darcy when she entered the breakfast room the following day.
"Good morning," she greeted him.
"Good morning," he responded. "Headache gone?"
"Yes, thank you," she replied, seating herself beside him.
"Sleep well?"
"Yes, thank you. And you?"
"Very well, thank you."
As they started to eat, a servant entered bringing the post. There was nothing for Elizabeth, but there was a letter for Darcy, which he slit open immediately, and which, as he perused it, caused him to frown.
"Bad news?" Elizabeth asked.
"You could say that," he answered.
"Why? What is it?"
"My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has written to say he is coming for a visit."
Elizabeth
froze. It was with an effort that she controlled herself.
"Pardon?" she queried, desperately hoping that she had not heard him correctly.
"My cousin," he repeated, "has written to say that he intends to come to London. And he expects me to put him up."
Elizabeth's heart felt as if it had turned to stone. If he had family coming to visit it meant that she had to go. One of society's conventions was that a man might have a lady friend to stay with him—even a woman of the worst sort—but he was never to embarrass his family with her presence. That was not done.
So the charade was over. Elizabeth would have to leave...tomorrow by the sound of it.
"When is he coming?" she managed to inquire.
Darcy shrugged. "In a week or two," he returned. "It depends on how quickly he travels. Needless to say there is no date on this infernal letter."
"Oh, I see," Elizabeth murmured.
She offered up a silent prayer to the effect that Darcy's relation might travel very slowly indeed. Let the Colonel stay a fortnight in each inn he stopped at en route. Then she could remain in London.
"I think I'll write and ask him to delay," Darcy remarked.
Elizabeth smiled. So he had had the same idea as she had. That meant that he was not tired of her company yet.
His gaze caused her to blush and lower her eyes.
"Yes, I daresay," Elizabeth agreed, and changed the subject.
Chapter Fifteen
It was later that day, in the afternoon, that Caroline Bingley, her face as pale as death, swept unceremoniously into Darcy House.
"Have you heard the news?" she demanded.
Elizabeth stared at her in surprise. After last night, how could she have the gall to show her face here?
"What news?" she queried.
"My brother is to be married! To a penniless nobody!" Caroline announced.
Darcy was on his feet in an instant. "What!" he exclaimed.
"It is true!" Caroline reiterated agitatedly. "I have it from my sister this morning!"
"When is the wedding to take place?" Darcy asked in an unnaturally sympathetic voice.
But Caroline was too overcome to reply.
"I must leave now," she stated distractedly. "I came to say goodbye."
"Now?" Elizabeth persisted, surprised.
"Yes! Yes! Now!" Caroline cried, distraught. "There is not a moment to lose!"
"Will you do me a small favor?" Darcy inquired.
"Of course," Caroline answered immediately. And then, more cautiously, "What is it?"
"Will you take a letter I have written with you and post it for me?" he requested.
"Of course I shall deliver it!" Caroline declared.
"Thank you," he returned.
He took the letter from his pocket and gave it to her.
"Forgive me, but I cannot stay. Goodbye to you both."
"Goodbye," Elizabeth echoed, surprised.
"Goodbye, Miss Bennet," Darcy said.
Caroline was in such a state she hardly knew what to do with herself. Then she floated out of the house, leaving behind her the lingering aroma of the heavy perfume she wore.
When she had gone, Darcy, frowning thoughtfully, remarked, "If she is right, then I think I shall prepare for the worst."
"Oh?" Elizabeth murmured as Darcy strode towards his study, slamming the door behind him.
She bit her lip. He had been so abrupt, so cold, and distant with her.
Suppose it is only natural, she thought. He is concerned for his friend. But...
She grimaced. He had given the servants instructions to see that he was not disturbed.
Elizabeth sighed. She made her way out into the garden and sat down on a bench carefully embroidering her initials on a purple silk scarf.
It was a beautiful day, unseasonably warm and peaceful even in the late afternoon. Sitting there in the shade it was difficult for Elizabeth to believe that Mr. Darcy would try to ruin the happiness of a beloved friend. It was not his place to do so.
She had no notion how long she sat out there trying to pretend she was not concerned by Darcy's manner, but it must have been for more than an hour because she finished the letters of her name.
Then suddenly, Darcy appeared in front of her.
"You will have to return home," he informed her imperiously, "tomorrow."
Elizabeth gave a horrified gasp. Last night she had been considering leaving, and last night it had been tolerable. But today things were different. Caroline had announced her own plans to leave. They were bound to run into each other on the return journey, and the moment Caroline spotted Elizabeth...it would be curtains for her.
"You cannot mean that," Elizabeth whispered. Surely Darcy could not intend to send her into a society where Caroline reigned supreme, and would be only too ready to destroy her? He could not possibly wish to make her go home in disgrace? He would not force her into a situation where the only possible way of salvaging even a portion of her reputation would be to agree to a marriage she did not want?
He cannot be so cruel! Elizabeth thought.
"I do mean it," Darcy answered.
The firmness of his tone left Elizabeth in no doubt as to the truth of his statement.
"No!" Elizabeth cried. "I won't do it."
Darcy was displeased. "Why not?" he demanded.
"Because..." Elizabeth began.
Almost immediately she stopped herself. Elizabeth shivered as once again she glimpsed the overbearing side of his nature. For a split second she considered trying to explain to him that she did not want to return to Longbourn because it would mean having to consent to a marriage which she had once run away from.
She was about to throw herself on his mercy, but then, remembering her own sense of pride, she changed her mind.
"I cannot go back," she insisted stubbornly.
"Of course you can," Darcy contradicted. "You must."
"No!"
"Yes!"
"I'll go somewhere else."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Darcy interrupted coldly.
"How dare you talk to me like that!" Elizabeth snapped.
His tone changed.
"Be sensible Elizabeth..." he started.
"No, you be sensible, Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth interrupted.
"What does that mean? Why can't you go back? Will you be arrested? Charged with some crime?"
"Certainly not!" Elizabeth declared indignantly.
"Then I fail to see where the difficulty lies."
"You don't know what you are asking!" Elizabeth wailed.
"I am asking you to return to your family."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am. The best place for you to go is home, and..."
"I am staying here."
"I don't want any more arguments," Darcy butted in. "Now give me your address in Hertfordshire, and I shall see to it that you are escorted there."
"I—"
With a sudden shock, Elizabeth realized that she had told Darcy hardly anything about herself.
He had no idea where she lived in Hertfordshire. Well, he certainly was not going to find out now.
"No!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"No what?" Darcy wanted to know.
"No I won't tell you my address in Hertfordshire."
Darcy emitted an exasperated sigh. "Elizabeth," he asked reasonably, "how am I to arrange for you to return to your home if I don't know where that is?"
Elizabeth's hands clenched at her sides. She was not the tiniest bit mollified by his tone.
"If I leave London," she informed him coldly, "then I shall make my own arrangements to do so, thank you, so you need not trouble yourself."
Darcy grabbed hold of her. All pretense of being polite had vanished.
"Will you tell me where you live!" he pleaded with her.
"No! No! No!" she spit back at him.
Darcy's frustration increased.
"Odious man!" Elizabeth retorted and pushed him away from her.
"Ow!" he
howled, more with rage than pain.
Elizabeth seized the opportunity to slip from his grasp and run into the house. There she would be protected by the presence of the servants. Darcy could not intimidate her—unless he wanted the story spread over the entire city.
Darcy, rubbing his leg, followed her inside. "Elizabeth..." he began.
"I am not going back to Hertfordshire!" she declared as she hurried upstairs.
That, as far as she was concerned, was final. He might glower at her—he might scowl as blackly as a thundercloud—he might rant and rave at her to his heart's content—it would make no difference.
Darcy seemed to have taken hold of himself.
"Do you want anything to eat before we go to the Crawfords' ball?" he inquired.
Elizabeth stopped in her tracks.
She hesitated. She had intended to pack that very minute. She had planned to leave the house then and there—on foot if she had to. But now that he mentioned the ball to which they had both been invited, she was suddenly uncertain as to what she ought to do.
"I confess I would like something to eat before I change," Darcy stated.
Still she could not decide.
Darcy turned to his servants and ordered a light meal to be served in the dining room. Then he glanced at Elizabeth.
"Won't you join me?" he inquired.
"Should I?" Elizabeth asked herself.
Then he smiled—that whimsical smile of his which never failed to make her putty in his hands.
"Come on," he urged. "Let's have something to eat together."
"Very well," Elizabeth agreed, and came towards him.
"Why were you on your way upstairs?" Darcy questioned as they stood in the anteroom outside the dining room, while the servants finished laying the table.
"I was going to get ready to...to go," Elizabeth replied.
"To go? You mean you changed your mind?"
Elizabeth blinked.
"About what?" she countered.
"Returning to your home."
At that moment the door opened and the butler appeared.
"Dinner is served, sir," he announced.
Automatically, Darcy held out his arm to Elizabeth, who took it and together they entered the dining room, where a hastily prepared cold collation awaited them.
Darcy's Charade Page 10