Particular Intentions

by L. L. Diamond

  She drew his head down and bestowed a simple kiss to his lips. Her uncle had chastised her for almost an hour the last time they were caught flaunting propriety. They would be wed in but two days, so while his embrace beckoned, she pressed her palm to his chest and stepped back.

  His forehead crinkled and his eyebrows dipped in the centre. “If you do not care for it, I can—”

  “I think it beautiful, and I intend to have it upon my wrist always. You will have all the ladies of the ton whispering of my poor taste behind their fans because I will not only have a pearl ring upon my finger but also pearls upon my wrist at all hours of the day.”

  With a casual step, she began to walk the perimeter of the room. He was too close! Her heart begged to find solace in his arms and never leave. It was imperative she separate herself from him before she received another chastisement from her uncle.

  A particularly thick book drew her eye, and she stopped to ascertain the title. Before she could proceed, a large arm wrapped around her stomach from behind as heated lips seared the flesh where her neck and shoulder met.

  “Fitzwilliam!” Her voice sounded strange as it broke and was a bit ragged. “We must not again be caught thus.”

  His thumb stroked her ribs, grazing the underside of her breast as it followed the same path again and again. As the tip of his nose nuzzled behind her ear, his breath prickled her skin.

  “You do not play fair.”

  “I have no restraint when we are alone, Elizabeth. I know we have but two days, but my fingers itch to touch the velvet of your skin and hold you to me. I can think of nothing else.”

  Lord help her as it was all she could do to distract herself from the same thoughts! She turned in his arms, but had no opportunity to dissuade him as he claimed her lips and pressed her against the bookcase. His desperate kiss and the feel of his silky tongue against hers rendered her unsteady on her own feet. She clutched the heavy wool of his topcoat at his waist as he returned to her neck; her eyes rolled back and the room disappeared as her eyes closed.

  The sensation of his strong body flush to hers, his throaty groan, and the endless massage of his hand across her lower back and side was dizzying. Her breathing was laboured and panting as she shifted to allow him access to her collarbone.

  “You left them alone!”

  Fitzwilliam hurtled back with such force, he knocked over a side table as she sagged against the metal lattice-work doors that protected the books behind her. Georgiana’s censure of the colonel grew louder as she approached the study, and Elizabeth’s hand flew to her chest. She must look affright!

  “Do not doubt that I shall tell Aunt Charlotte who left them without a chaperon!”

  “Georgiana, they will be wed on Wednesday and no longer require this constant supervision. Besides, your brother would never do more than steal a kiss in one of the more public rooms—especially when he expects your return.”

  Elizabeth’s hands began running over her chest and neck while Fitzwilliam hastened to put the table back as it was. Was part of her gown out of place? Would Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam know when they entered?

  “Nothing is amiss in your appearance, Elizabeth.”

  Her eyes darted to his. “You are certain?”

  “As long as you relax, she will have no reason to be suspicious.”

  With a hurried pivot, she opened the bookcase and began to run her finger along the spines of the books. Wordsworth? Well, at least she had a fair knowledge of his poetry in the event Georgiana asked.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam burst in first as though he expected to catch them as they were a mere few minutes before while Georgiana pushed him aside and entered. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced between them.

  “The pair of you know you are not supposed to be alone. How could you? Aunt Charlotte trusted me to ensure you did not breach propriety.” Her shrill voice prompted a wince from all present as she pointed her finger in their general direction. “If she discovers, she will hold me responsible.”

  “You left them to me, so Mother would not direct her ire towards you, Georgiana. You know well she would not find fault with your actions.” With a tilt of his head, the colonel appraised his young cousin. “Are you at sixes and sevens because of the planned trip to Bond Street? I know you were not completely comfortable when we attended services, so your unease would be understandable.”

  Her hands clenched before her as her entire body sagged. “I so want to go, but I cannot prevent myself from trembling at the thought. My mind has insisted upon turning the same thoughts over and over.”

  Elizabeth abandoned her ruse and wrapped her arms around the poor dear. “Forgive me. Over the last few days, you have become increasingly ill tempered, but I had not considered this trip to be the cause. You could have unburdened yourself to your aunt or me instead of concealing your anxiety.”

  “You have been occupied with other matters.” Georgiana sniffled as she returned Elizabeth’s embrace. “Do not think I did not trust you or feel you could not be of aid. I wanted to conquer this on my own.”

  She pulled back and cradled Georgiana’s face in her hands. “While your resolve is admirable, you have not had much time to heal since August. Give yourself more time.”

  Fitzwilliam’s embrace engulfed them both. “Our first appointment is with the modiste, which is, I believe, what you do not want to miss?”

  A dip of Georgiana’s chin provided his response as Elizabeth dabbed the girl’s cheeks with a handkerchief.

  “Then accompany us to the modiste, and when the appointment is complete, you may return here directly. Elizabeth’s aunt has purchased the fabric, so a trip to the drapers is not necessary, and we can walk to the milliners and Gunther’s from Madame Guiard’s shop.”

  “You would still take part in choosing my trousseau. You would also have gone beyond your previous limitations by leaving the comfort and security of Clarell House for a destination you have not visited since before Ramsgate.”

  Fitzwilliam kissed her temple. “I am proud of the strides you have made. Even had you opted to remain behind today, my feelings would not have changed.”

  As Fitzwilliam hugged his sister, cleared his throat, and stepped away, the colonel took his young cousin’s hand and tugged her to face him. “They are correct. Do not force yourself to do more than you ought.”

  Voices from the hall drew their attention just before Lady Fitzwilliam entered, her appraising eye flitting to each of them. “Has something happened?”

  Georgiana sniffed and drew back from Elizabeth’s embrace. “No, Aunt, but I shall depart Madame Guiard’s when Lizzy has completed her shopping and return here to await our party’s return for dinner.”

  Lady Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows gave a small lift, but instead of responding, her eyes landed upon Elizabeth’s wrist. “Really, Fitzwilliam,” she chided, lifting Elizabeth’s arm. “First her ring, and now a bracelet? You will have the entire ton gossiping that your new wife does not know the absurd rules of London fashion.”

  “Perhaps I possess more of a conceited independence?” Her eyes met the great lady’s and they stared for a moment before both dissolving into laughter.

  “I like you more by the day, Elizabeth Bennet. I shall enjoy promoting you within the ton. We need a spirited lady such as yourself to make things interesting.” She wrapped her arm around Georgiana’s elbow. “We must depart. The carriage is waiting and Madame Guiard does not hold appointments when her clients are late.”

  Lady Fitzwilliam wrapped her other arm through Elizabeth’s. “Your aunt does have an eye for exquisite fabrics. I am quite envious of the selections she has made for you. I will have to persuade her to accompany me on my next trip to the drapers.”

  The heavy, steady footfalls of the men followed them to the hall where they donned their coats and joined Aunt Gardiner and Anne in the carriage. Once the colonel joined the driver atop the equipage, the carriage shifted as it began to move through the streets of Mayfair towards Bond S
treet.

  The trip to Madame Guiard’s establishment was swift as were her employees when they arrived, who ushered the ladies of their party to a room in the back, while the men awaited them in the front.

  As Lady Fitzwilliam had indicated, the fabrics Aunt Gardiner selected were the finest she had ever seen, and when combined with the fashion plates they chose, would make the most splendid, well-made gowns.

  Georgiana calmed a great deal once in the privacy of the modiste’s, but her relief was evident when Elizabeth kissed her on the cheek before her return to Darcy House. Once the carriage departed, Fitzwilliam offered Elizabeth his arm, and they began their walk to the milliner’s a few shops down, surrounded by their party and several men dressed as lesser gentlemen who led or followed, giving the appearance they were not part of the group. When had they arrived?

  As they approached the shop front, a selection of bonnets and gloves in the window caught her eye. They were not just the simple straw front hats to which she was accustomed, but also had selections in velvet, silk, and other expensive materials. Once inside, she continued to peruse the items on display until she almost ran into Fitzwilliam when he made an abrupt stop.

  “Mr. Darcy!”

  That voice! She knew that voice. With a turn of her head, she spotted Miss Bingley at the opposite side of the shop, her sister standing nearby.

  “Why, it has been too long!”

  Her betrothed stood unyielding as he gave a curt bow. “Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, I do hope you are well.”

  The presumption of this woman to address them as though she were an old friend after her actions at Netherfield! Was she sane?

  Mrs. Hurst curtsied. “Mr. Darcy, Miss Bennet, Miss de Bourgh, I am pleased to see you again.”

  Without a formal greeting, Miss Bingley rushed forward and grasped Anne’s hands. “I am so pleased your betrothal to my brother is official at last! I cannot anticipate more the day I shall be able to call you sister.”

  Anne leaned back from Miss Bingley with wide eyes as the latter spoke. Caroline Bingley’s name was mentioned often while Elizabeth resided at Clarell House and never on good terms. Anne’s feelings were quite the opposite of Miss Bingley’s to be sure.

  “We shall be such a merry party this summer at Rosings, will we not?”

  Miss Bingley regarded Anne with the most unaffected smile Elizabeth had ever witnessed. She was ecstatic to be gaining Anne as a sister whether Anne reciprocated those feelings or not. One thing was certain. Anne would never allow Miss Bingley to set one toe into Rosings.

  “Miss Bingley,” began Anne in a controlled voice.

  “Oh! Please call me Caroline!”

  “Miss Bingley, while your brother and I have not discussed our plans for the summer months, I have no intention of entertaining guests so soon after our marriage.”

  “Oh tosh! You will grow bored with only Charles for company.”

  Anne gave a strange almost high-pitched chirp. Was she stifling an incredulous laugh?

  “Mr. Bingley and I have waited nearly two years to begin our lives together. I shall not require more than his companionship; I assure you.”

  With a wave of her hand, Miss Bingley scoffed. “You will change your mind; mark my words. Besides, if I am living with you and Charles, I cannot remain behind in London.”

  “Caroline?” called Mrs. Hurst. We should return to have luncheon with Mr. Hurst. You know how he complains when the meal is late.”

  Miss Bingley did not appear to have heard Mrs. Hurst. “I shall send a note to Charles this afternoon. We should have tea. I would adore becoming better acquainted.”

  Mrs. Hurst came from behind her sister and looped her arm through Miss Bingley’s. “We do truly need to depart.”

  One of Miss Bingley’s nostrils lifted, distorting her face in an unattractive fashion. “Of course, Louisa. We would not want to keep your husband from the trough.”

  Oblivious to Mrs. Hurst’s sudden crimson complexion, Miss Bingley’s expression then altered to her usual false smile. “You should join us for tea when a date can be arranged, Mr. Darcy. We shall soon be related, you know.” Fitzwilliam did not respond, but remained stock-still as Miss Bingley’s attention returned to Anne.

  “I predict we shall be the best of friends. I anticipate Charles’ invitation for tea.” After a curtsey, Miss Bingley allowed Mrs. Hurst to guide her from the shop.

  “I would burn Rosings to the ground before I allow her within its walls.” Anne muttered the statement, yet all within their group heard since they either chuckled or smirked. “Charles was meeting with the solicitor today about her establishment. She will not be pleased with the results.”

  Lady Fitzwilliam leaned into her niece’s shoulder. “Do tell.”

  Anne smirked. “Are you familiar with the small cottage in Doddington that is part of the Rosings estate?”

  Fitzwilliam’s shoulders began to shake before his laughter was heard. “I am. It is eight miles west from Rosings and small, as is the village. Is Bingley to move her household there?”

  A mischievous glint lit Anne’s eyes. “She has made a constant practice of overspending her allowance since she came out. He warned her she could not be so frivolous, yet she has not heeded his words. Due to her habits, Charles is concerned that if she remains in London, she will not have enough of her fortune left to sustain her for her lifetime.” She picked up a nearby bonnet and turned it in her hands. “The cottage would require some upkeep, but the estate provides for such necessities as it is. Her abigail and companion would move with her, however, maids and a cook can be hired in the country.”

  Aunt Gardiner, who Miss Bingley had ignored, smiled. “They will not require as high a wage as those in London.”

  Elizabeth stared at Lady Fitzwilliam. Miss Bingley had stolen glances at the lady but had not attempted a conversation. How peculiar!

  “Lady Fitzwilliam, I understand why Miss Bingley would snub my aunt, but why did she not attempt to engage you in conversation?”

  Lady Fitzwilliam took the bonnet from her niece’s grasp and threaded the ribbon through her fingers with a grin. “I have made it quite clear I have no wish to make her acquaintance, so while I am sure she knows who I am, she does not speak to me as we have not been introduced.” She handed the bonnet back to Anne. “She once made an effort to force an introduction by speaking of me in my presence. I admit I walked away.”

  “You cut her?” Elizabeth bit back a wince at the high pitch of her own voice.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. She and her sister hope to ascend into the ton by sharpening their claws on those they feel beneath them. Their poor manners have admitted them into the company of those who thrive on gossip and that sort of behaviour, though Miss Bingley’s acceptance has waned since her brother formed her establishment.”

  Anne replaced the hat and picked up a different one. “They assume she has either lost favour by behaving in a scandalous manner, or Charles has decided she is on the shelf. From what Charles related in his letters, her friends dwindled when she moved to her own apartments.”

  After brushing her palms together, Lady Fitzwilliam took Elizabeth’s elbow and steered her further into the shop. “Enough about Caroline Bingley. We need to sort out your purchases, so we can go to the shoemakers and have tea.”

  The next hour was dizzying as Elizabeth and Anne selected their hats, gloves, and a few silk and cashmere shawls of Indian origin that the proprietor stocked as well. Once the lot was tallied and arrangements made for delivery and payment, they were again walking down Bond Street.

  The day was not terribly cold for January, but tolerable with her pelisse and gloves. The sun had emerged from the clouds while they were at the milliner’s, which also helped warm those who were shopping for the upcoming season.

  Elizabeth gave a gentle squeeze to Fitzwilliam’s arm as his thumb traced along the top of her knuckles. His presence beside her for an excursion that must have been a tedious bore to him made her
heart swell. He would never fail to see to her safety or abandon her for the whims which many high society gentlemen indulged. She was stuck with him—not that the notion bothered her. On the contrary, every part of her hummed in satisfaction at the thought.

  She leaned forward to glance at her aunt who was on Fitzwilliam’s other arm, but she was taking in the sites around her as well. Colonel Fitzwilliam strode ahead of them with Anne and his mother as they pointed at different shop fronts and laughed.

  A moment later, Lady Fitzwilliam pulled her son to the window of a jeweller’s and exclaimed over the few pieces he displayed for the public to see. “His work is lovely. Richard, do not be missish in mentioning this shop to your father. Our anniversary is next month, you know.”

  The colonel gave a bark of a laugh. “You have enough jewellery, Mother. Surely, Father can think of a more useful gift.”

  Lady Fitzwilliam slapped his arm. “I shall put you over my knee if you say such nonsense to him, Richard George William Fitzwilliam!”

  Elizabeth watched their exchange, smiling at their light-hearted banter and teasing. A glance at Aunt Gardiner revealed her hand to her mouth and her head down as she listened and found amusement at their antics as well.

  As her head turned back to the pavement in front of the shop, a man emerged from those walking with a glare fixed on Fitzwilliam; her eyes riveted to him as he continued to stride forward. Without stopping, his hand reached into his coat pocket to remove what appeared to be a piece of wood; however, when sunlight reflected from the object, it created a glare. She shook her head and focussed again—to see a blade now extended from one end! Her heart began to pound as if it would burst from her chest.

  “Fitzwilliam?” Her voice emerged as no more than a croaky whisper. Why would her legs not move? She opened her mouth to call Fitzwilliam’s name again, but nothing happened. Why could she not make another sound?

  “Yes, my love.”

  She could not breathe! Her hand flew to her chest just at the base of her neck while she attempted to suck in air as though someone held a pillow to her face, her surroundings appearing as though they were a dream unfolding before her.