Particular Intentions

by L. L. Diamond

  “Oh! Do not mistake me! I enjoy your sister Kitty’s company. I look forward to speaking with her again.”

  “Kitty would do well to adopt some of your poise and manners now that she’s decided not to follow Lydia’s lead.”

  Georgiana’s nose crinkled. “Why would she want to emulate Miss Lydia?”

  “My mother has always doted on Jane for her looks and Lydia for her temperament; she tells all and sundry how Lydia is as she was when she was young. Perhaps Kitty thought she would gain more of Mama’s favour if she behaved as Lydia does. To be honest, I am not certain why. She might not even know herself.”

  “Did you ever wish to resemble Miss Bennet?”

  Elizabeth’s chest was tight as she paused, cleared her throat, and straightened her skirt. She had wanted to look like Jane many times in the past, but always for different reasons: her mother’s notice, to have gentlemen find her pretty. Jane never expected such attention or became conceited, but yes, at times she had coveted Jane’s beauty. The admission was not an easy one to make.

  “I did.”

  “But you are handsome in your own way. I think Miss Bennet is lovely, but so are you.”

  Her face warmed as she shifted in her seat. “I have never thought myself unattractive, by any means, but I have never thought myself Jane’s equal. As much as I wish my mother’s words had no effect, they have had more than I would care to admit.”

  “So, it is not far-fetched that Kitty would emulate Miss Lydia to gain your mother’s attention?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  Georgiana perched on the edge of her seat with her hands folded in her lap. “When we are done with our tea, would you care to practice the pianoforte with me? We could perhaps prepare a duet for after dinner this—”

  Both of them started when Morely burst through the door. “Mrs. Darcy, Miss Georgiana, you must come with me!”

  Elizabeth sat straight, while Georgiana jumped from her seat. “What is it?” She grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and heaved her to her feet. “Mr. Morely would not make such a demand without good reason. We must go!”

  “I—”

  With Elizabeth’s hand in hers, Georgiana followed Morely through the door to her chambers. She stared at her bed’s rumpled state as they passed and cringed. Why had Lucy not tended to the sheets as she was told?

  She was jolted back to the situation at hand as they passed through another doorway where they made an abrupt halt. Morely began shifting her gowns. “Here! You need to hide here.”

  “Why?”

  Georgiana tugged, but Elizabeth refused to budge.

  “What has happened?”

  “Mrs. Darcy, we believe there is someone in the house. Until we have caught him, I am asking you and Miss Darcy to hide. Please.”

  She gave way to Georgiana’s pulls and followed where they would be partially concealed by a trunk and her gowns hanging overhead.

  “Do you truly believe this will protect us?” The room had a slight spin, and though she was not shaking, her limbs felt weak.

  Without a word, Morely darted to a table near the door, opened a top drawer, and removed a small pistol.

  Elizabeth’s eyes hurt as they bulged. “Why is that in my dressing room?”

  “In the event it is needed, ma’am, ‘tis a pocket pistol. If someone other than myself enters, pull this piece back and then squeeze the trigger. Have you ever fired one?”

  Georgiana’s earlier courage dissolved as she shook her head in a frantic back and forth motion. Her eyes were wide and her breathing erratic. She was going to faint if she continued as she was.

  Elizabeth drew herself straight and grasped the gun. “My father has taken me shooting a time or two.”

  “I shall return as soon as I can. I will call before I enter, just so you know it is me.” He bobbed his head, turned, locked the door to the servant’s hallway, and then exited out to the main corridor.

  She stared at the pistol in her hand. Regardless of how inelegant it was, her father had taught her to shoot. With no son, he instructed her on a few less than lady-like practices, but she never thought those skills would be put to practical use. What lady needs to know shooting or Latin?

  After joining Georgiana behind the trunk, she put her arm around the girl and rubbed her arm. “I am certain your brother will be home soon. Besides, no one will find us hidden in here.”

  A steady trail of tears flowed down Georgiana’s cheeks despite Elizabeth’s whispered reassurances. “Do you truly believe that?”

  Elizabeth swallowed down her doubt. “I do. You will see.”

  Georgiana’s eyes darted to the pistol, which was resting in Elizabeth’s hand on the trunk. “Were you telling the truth earlier? Did your father teach you to shoot?”

  “He did. My mother never knew or she would have succumbed to one of her legendary fits of nerves.” One side of Georgiana’s lips tipped upwards. Good, perhaps she would relax. She could not remain as anxious as she was.

  “Are you a good shot?”

  “My father claimed I was. He took me to this one glen where a few of the trees had fallen limbs or holes in the trunks. Those were my targets. Once he explained how to aim, he would tell me what to shoot.”

  Georgiana studied the wood and iron weapon. Mr. Bennet’s pistols were rather plain, but this one was engraved with a floral detailing that was inlaid with silver on the dark stained handle.

  “Do you think my brother would teach me?” Poor Georgiana trembled as she huddled to Elizabeth’s side.

  “You will not conquer your fears by learning to shoot.” The mood needed to be lightened regardless of their present situation. “After all, ladies do not carry pistols in their reticules.”

  Georgiana lifted her chin. “I could create a new fashion.” Despite her current state of anxiety, Georgiana’s lips curved once more.

  “You have been in my company too much if you are teasing at a time such as this.”

  Footsteps plodded outside the door, and they both froze in place, waiting. Who was it? Her heart hammered her sternum with an unsteady cadence. Would whomever it was enter? Elizabeth aimed for the door, but soon, the plodding footfalls passed as a shadow travelled across the crack under the door, then continued down the corridor.

  Elizabeth sank back onto her heels as she again rested the gun upon the trunk. She blinked at her eyes burning. She would not cry! Georgiana would never remain composed if she began to weep! “What do you wish to do first when we reach Pemberley?”

  “Play my pianoforte. Once I have spent several days occupied by my music, I intend to ride my horse.”

  “Are you an accomplished rider?”

  “Fitzwilliam and I often ride together and at times we race. I have bested him on several occasions.”

  “I know little of horses, but Fitzwilliam is an impressive rider. If you have won a race against him, you must be quite skilled.”

  Georgiana settled as they spoke, though she never relaxed, which was understandable. She told Elizabeth at length of her horse, as well as the different footpaths around Pemberley. Elizabeth’s love of walking was certain to be the motivation behind her detailed descriptions of the scenery, but no complaints would escape Elizabeth’s lips. If it kept Georgiana from thinking of the matter before them, she would allow her to talk until she was hoarse.

  At the sound of footsteps thudding once again down the corridor, they both froze in place, their conversation forgotten. The pistol, which had been set on the flat top of the trunk while they whispered, was once again aimed at the door with both of Elizabeth’s hands clenched upon the handle. The joints of her fingers ached she gripped the metal and wooden handle so tightly. She could not allow her fear to get the better of her; she could not tremble!

  Pleas and prayers to God echoed through her head. Please pass the door! Please pass the door! Elizabeth bit her lip as her pulse thundered against her eardrum. Her fingers stretched and clenched the handle anew in an attempt to dry her palms; howeve
r, the footfalls grew louder as they drew closer to the door. Thump… thump… thump.

  The doorknob creaked as it began to turn. That was a figment of her imagination, was it not? She blinked hard and squinted, her hand gripping the pistol with as much strength as she possessed. No, the knob was indeed moving.

  A whimper came from Georgiana, who huddled behind her. The latch clicked when the handle could be turned no longer, and the hinges squeaked as the large dark stained panel began to inch open.

  How could she shoot someone? How could she watch a bullet tear into a person’s body with a design to harm? She clenched the weapon and shifted the barrel upwards. Such an aim would hit most men in the chest, would it not?

  Oh God!

  Her eyelids pressed together, she took in one long gulp of air, steeled herself, and pulled back on the trigger as a scream from behind pierced her ears. Her arms were shoved to the side as a deafening blast rent the air and jarred Elizabeth’s shoulders. She landed upon the floor with someone atop her and groaned.

  Chapter 29

  “What the…”

  Wait! That voice! Sick rose in her throat, causing her to gulp in order to prevent its escape. “Oh no!”

  With a hand to the floor beside them, Georgiana pushed herself off Elizabeth as her head whipped towards the door. Elizabeth swallowed again as she rose. What would greet her when she could see the entrance?

  As the trunk cleared from her line of vision, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s fearsome glare came into view followed by her husband’s dropped jaw and bulging eyes. “Elizabeth?”

  A sob tore from her throat as she dropped the pistol as though it burned her palm. She almost shot her husband? Lord help her! She almost shot her husband!

  “What in blue blazes!” He shoved Richard to the side, strode forward, and pulled her from behind the trunk into his arms. “Why do you have a pistol?”

  She shook her head, hiccoughed, and gasped; however, she could not force even one word from her throat as a spasm prevented any sound from being formed. Georgiana sniffled by her ear, but was soon drawn into Richard’s consoling embrace while Fitzwilliam cradled her face in his palms.

  “Elizabeth, breathe.”

  That first inhale was a struggle, but his steady gaze and calm voice soon helped the choking sobs to subside. Her arms shifted under his great coat to cling to the back of his topcoat as Morely burst into the room.

  “Sir! I did not know you had returned!”

  “We arrived close to a quarter hour ago. Jobbins was not at his post, but as usual, I carried a key, which the colonel and I used to enter. I then went to the cellar to access the strongbox for some of my mother’s jewels. I intended to put them in my wife’s dressing room.”

  “Sir, Jobbins locked the front door while he went below stairs. When he returned, the door was unlocked and not pulled shut, leading us to believe we had an intruder. I notified Mrs. and Miss Darcy, hid them there,” he pointed behind the trunk, “and gave Mrs. Darcy the pistol to protect herself in the event they were discovered.”

  He tugged at his collar. “My sole thought was their ability to keep themselves safe. We had not expected you back until later this afternoon and it never occurred to us to search the cellar.” His eyes shifted to the hole made in the wall by the bullet and his jaw opened and shut several times before another sound was uttered. “Thank the Lord she missed.”

  The colonel stepped around Fitzwilliam. “We have Miss Darcy’s quick action to credit for Mrs. Darcy’s bad aim. She pushed Mrs. Darcy’s arm to the side when we entered.” His voice was firm and held a note of derision. To anyone who knew the colonel, he was not pleased with Morely’s handling of the situation.

  A noise from the doorway drew their attention to the flood of servants who had come to defend their mistress. Several footmen, Jobbins, the scullery maid with her pail and shovel, and cook, brandishing her largest knife, all stood poised and ready.

  “Sir!” Jobbins scanned each person within the small dressing room. “Please forgive the intrusion. We did not know you had returned.”

  “Well, I have.” His hand rubbed steady circles upon her back. “I entered almost a quarter hour ago and from what Morely tells me, must have left the front door slightly ajar. Please inform the servants there is no intruder.” Jobbins turned to depart. “Oh! And please arrange for someone to repair the hole in this wall.”

  The aged butler ushered the staff away from the dressing room and back to their posts as Elizabeth’s nails continued to clench his topcoat.

  “Elizabeth?”

  She shook her head, keeping her face buried in his chest. “I am so, so sorry. The idea of shooting someone terrified me, so I shut my eyes. I could have killed you with my silliness.”

  “Dearest, look at me.” His bent finger tipped her chin until her hazy gaze met his. “I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Morely hid you, gave you a pistol, and left you alone. Most ladies would not have had the mettle to touch the weapon much less fire it. I am not angry with you. None of what occurred was your fault. Do you understand?”

  A reflexive hiccough caused an odd sound from her throat. She pressed a hand to her mouth as he grinned. “Richard insisted we depart directly, so I had no opportunity to speak to you before we left.”

  “I was with my maid when I received your message. I am not upset you accompanied your cousin.”

  “Elizabeth, I did not mean what you think. I need to tell you why Richard called so early this morning.”

  “Oh?” She did not remove her eyes from his beloved face.

  “Late last night Richard received word of Wickham’s capture.” A gasp came from Georgiana.

  “But how?” Elizabeth straightened and glanced between the colonel and her husband. “What could he have done to reveal his whereabouts?”

  Richard gave a derisive laugh. “The imbecile squandered the money he stole and has been attempting to raise his passage to Ireland by playing cards in a pub down by the docks. Two nights ago, he made the mistake of cheating a few navy officers. A brawl ensued in which a man was killed and Wickham was sent to the closest gaol.” He smirked. “Wickham attempted to hide his identity, but one of the other patrons who he had cheated was a blab. He revealed Wickham’s name, which I had bandied about the docks with rumour of a reward for information.”

  “I paid the man well for his notifying the army.” Fitzwilliam cuddled her closer. “Wickham has a trial set for next week, but if it were not for Anne and Bingley’s wedding Saturday, we would depart for Pemberley on the morrow. I have had enough of London for this year.”

  The colonel clapped her husband upon the shoulder. “You have me here to ensure Wickham’s punishment is met. After the incident at the pub, I do not think he will escape the noose. He has too many crimes to his name. Wickham will dance upon nothing before the cheering and jeering crowd before the month is out.”

  She shuddered and looked to Georgiana, whose eyes were closed. “Georgiana, are you well?”

  Georgiana’s head jerked to attend her. “Oh, yes. I cannot pretend that I shall not feel safer with him unable to cause me further harm, yet he wasted his life so.”

  “Which was his own fault.” Fitzwilliam held out his hand to his sister, who set hers within his palm. “He was given every opportunity to establish himself in a respectable position and was never satisfied. I am thankful my father did not live to discover what his godson became.”

  “What he always was,” clarified the colonel. “He was never good or true. His grasping ways were present when he was young. You should never forget that.”

  “I wish I could.”

  The colonel cleared his throat and offered his arm to Georgiana. “Would you walk me to the door? I am certain your brother would like some time alone with his new wife, and you would enjoy some time with your harp or pianoforte.”

  Elizabeth’s hand shot forward and grasped the top of her husband and Georgiana’s joined ones. “We have both had quite a fright. You do
not need to be alone.”

  She kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. “I believe music will help settle me. I should like to spend a few hours in the music room, but I shall not be alone as Mrs. Annesley will accompany me.”

  “I do not doubt your fondness for Mrs. Annesley, but you are certain?”

  Georgiana kissed her brother’s cheek and took the colonel’s arm. “I am determined. You are just wed and deserve time together, though I shall expect both your company after dinner.”

  “Not for dinner?”

  Elizabeth’s head whipped to her husband whose lips were lifted to one side, and she struck him upon the chest. “Fitzwilliam!”

  “I am merely teasing.”

  “Careful brother, lest we think you have become Richard.”

  With a smirk, Richard tugged her arm. “Come, I need to return to Horse Guards before I am reprimanded for my tardiness.”

  Once they were alone, Fitzwilliam held her in a firm embrace against his chest. “You have not ceased shaking since we entered.”

  “I nearly took your life.”

  He planted a firm kiss to her forehead. “But you did not. I am still here.” His lips clasped hers and reaffirmed his life and warmth. Despite her attempt at defending herself and Georgiana, she had failed. Thank goodness!

  Fingers, aching to steady themselves, threaded through his curls to prevent his withdrawal. She needed to touch him! She needed to verify with her own eyes and hands that he was one and whole.

  She pushed under his greatcoat and topcoat, shoving them from his shoulders to the floor. A button of his waistcoat might have fallen to the carpet in her haste to remove it as well. When her fingers found their way beneath his lawn shirt, he groaned at the contact.

  “Elizabeth?”

  With a palm to the back of his head, she brought his lips back to hers. He slowed their exchange and lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapping about his waist while she suckled a particular spot just beneath his earlobe.

  “Elizabeth, I cannot think when you do that!”

  Her back met the plush mattress and counterpane. “I do not want to think. I just want to feel you against me. I need you.” Her voice was breathless. Why did it always sound strange when they became amorous?