by Wendi Sotis
Elizabeth chuckled and said, “Whatever it was, I thank you for it.”
“Then you are not—” Darcy choked out.
“I am not.” Elizabeth shook her head. “It has not yet been announced, but he has been accepted by Charlotte Lucas.” Elizabeth was quick to add, “As you have seen that one, I should show this one, which I had noticed earlier and had removed from the pictures I planned to show to you this morning.” She pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her pocket. “And you may see for yourself if this comes true. She seems pleased, does she not? Though under no circumstances would I wish this fate for myself, I am happy for her.”
Darcy lifted the page to see it better, his mouth agape. “Have you ever been to Kent, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Ramsgate is in Kent, but other than the overnight stop at the inn between there and London, I have no other experience with Kent.”
“This is Hunsford Cottage, the parsonage at my aunt’s estate—where Mr. Collins is pastor.”
“Unfortunately, Darcy, we have heard hours’ and hours’ worth of descriptions of Mr. Collins’s home, and we know exactly who his patroness is,” Mr. Bennet said with annoyance. “Including how many windows and chimney pieces were incorporated into the construction of Rosings Park—and their cost.”
“But sir, this is Hunsford Cottage exactly!” Darcy exclaimed, looking at Elizabeth with amazement.
“I am no longer surprised to hear it, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said plainly.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I ask which drawings were received at Netherfield?”
I refuse to show them Mr. Bingley’s proposal to Jane or the one of Lydia and Wickham kissing. Elizabeth looked away and said, “They are among those I choose not to reveal, sir. The next that I am prepared to share are those I received yesterday.” She turned to Darcy. “Are you certain you wish to see them, Mr. Darcy? They are more disturbing than any of the others thus far.”
Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze and seemed to search her soul. She could see the decision in his eyes.
He replied, “While I do not wish to see them, I think that I must.”
As she showed him the last of the sketches—those depicting what would have happened to his sister had she not interfered just a few hours earlier—Darcy became so pale that Elizabeth thought he might become ill.
Elizabeth stated, “I am certain that you can both see why I did all that I could last night. I would not allow this to happen to Miss Darcy.”
Mr. Bennet replied softly, “Yes... yes.”
Darcy swallowed hard. “I regret that I could not have done more to prevent the injuries to you...”
“But sir, you did prevent the worst from happening.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Mr. Darcy, please be assured that even had I been forewarned of my injuries before the ball, I would have done the same without hesitation.”
Darcy stared at Elizabeth for what felt like a long time before he nodded. “I believe you would have, Miss Elizabeth.”
~%~
~On the road to London
Darcy stared at the book in his lap. Although he had not been paying attention to the words on the page, he turned it, feigning interest. Between thoughts of Elizabeth, the feel of Wickham’s icy stare that had been locked upon him since their leaving Netherfield, and this cramped coach box, he could not concentrate on reading.
What I would not do to ride alongside the carriage instead of within!
After only one of the three hours of this journey, his determination to hide the fact that Wickham’s glower was bothering him had faded, and now the temptation was too great. Darcy looked up quickly and glared at Wickham.
The scoundrel started to laugh, but then doubled over in pain, his bound hands pressed to his stomach. Darcy tried not to take pleasure in another’s pain, but he could not help but feel a measure of satisfaction. After all that Wickham had done, he deserved the residual pain as a reminder.
After Wickham’s discomfort passed, he said, “I knew I could get you to look at me.”
Darcy shook his head. Everything was a game to this man. He examined Wickham’s face, content that Wickham’s visible bruises were worse than those he could see on Elizabeth’s lovely face. Darcy was unsure whether it was he or Elizabeth who had hit his eye so hard that it was now swollen shut, but he thought he remembered hearing a crack when he had broken the miscreant’s nose.
Wickham settled back into the plush couch of Darcy’s coach and glowered at him, hatred oozing from every pore.
Roger sat on one side of Wickham, Hughes on the other. For a moment, Darcy wished he had chosen to sit on that side so that he did not have to spend this trip facing this man.
“I’m hungry,” Wickham complained.
“It is not my fault that you did not eat before we left Netherfield.”
“He is to blame!” Wickham glared at Hughes. “I couldn’t eat with that revolting taste lingering.”
Quite out of character, Hughes did not hold back his laughter, and Darcy understood his mirth. During the night, when Darcy had returned briefly to his bedchamber, he had found Wickham gagged. When he asked what had occurred, Hughes had explained that, in an attempt to goad Hughes and the footman who was assigned to the room, Wickham had continuously spoken of how much he appreciated being bound with Georgiana’s stockings. After having to listen to several rather disgusting remarks, Hughes was pleased to gag Wickham, providing the scoundrel with intimate contact with the stockings belonging to yet another Darcy—specifically the ones his master usually wore under his riding boots. Darcy smiled at the memory of the sickened expression on Wickham’s face as the valet revealed that detail.
Wickham’s gaze darted to Mrs. Younge, next to Darcy. It had been difficult to keep her from fussing over Wickham once she had seen his injuries, but eventually, Darcy’s threat that he would send her to the Americas instead of having her accompany Wickham to Australia had convinced her to remain in her seat.
How did Wickham manage to earn the loyalty of so many women when all he did was hurt them in the end?
Wickham’s leer moved to Marie, Georgiana’s maid, who sat on the other side of Mrs. Younge. Even with one eye swollen closed, Wickham’s expression was obscene. Before Darcy had time to react, he heard Marie make a noise of disgust. Darcy quickly reached across the aisle and grabbed the front of Wickham’s shirt.
“You will behave, Wickham, or I will not hesitate to blacken your other eye, as well. It will be very difficult to find your way around a ship if you cannot see. If you should trip over the rail and fall overboard, remember who is to blame for your predicament.” Darcy pushed Wickham back into the seat.
Wickham curled his upper lip and spit out, “You are to blame for everything that has happened!”
Darcy laughed without mirth and shook his head. “You reap what you sow.” Usually he would never speak in such a manner in front of his servants, but he could no longer hold his temper in check. “You never were able to see clearly, Wickham. You were given many opportunities to mend your ways—more than you deserved,” Darcy growled. “After you step foot on that ship, I wash my hands of the man you have become. The boy I knew in childhood—my friend—is dead.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy could see Hughes nod his head once. Having been Darcy’s valet since he first needed one and working in the household at Pemberley before that, Hughes knew all about Wickham. With access to the servants’ gossip, it was probable that Hughes knew more about Wickham’s misdeeds than Darcy himself. He assumed the other servants were looking to the valet for confirmation that what Darcy said was true.
After checking his timepiece, Darcy lowered his eyes to his book once more, planning all that he needed to accomplish once they arrived at his London house.
He hoped that, by now, Richard had returned from whatever mission he had been assigned. Darcy did have friends who owed him favours, some of whom could probably help him send Wickham and Younge to Australia, but he preferred to involve as small a number of peopl
e as possible in this scheme.
Darcy sighed. This will soon be over.
Chapter 24
~Longbourn
“Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet called out, waving her over. In a whisper, she continued, “With Miss Darcy here, I think it would be better if you stayed above stairs. Let her spend more time with Jane alone.” She turned a significant glance on Georgiana and Jane, who were looking at a cushion the younger girl was embroidering. “They shall be sisters soon, after all. Besides, I am certain Miss Darcy would rather not look upon the evidence of your clumsiness.” Mrs. Bennet referred to the bruise on Elizabeth’s cheek.
“Mama, she will of necessity see it when she comes to bed—”
“There you have been presumptuous. Putting yourself forward and inviting her to stay with you instead of allowing her a room to herself, as I am sure she would prefer... it was... insensitive.”
Elizabeth sighed silently. She did not wish to make an issue of the situation, especially with Georgiana in the room. When Elizabeth had offered to sleep with Jane so that Georgiana could have Elizabeth’s bedchamber to herself, Georgiana practically begged Elizabeth to stay with her. The poor girl seemed terrified to stay alone. However, it would be easier to allow her mother to get through her scolding without comment than it would be to attempt to set her straight.
“Jane!” Lydia called out from the window. “Mr. Bingley’s carriage has arrived!”
Jane blushed but could not hold back her smile. Georgiana gave Jane’s hand a little squeeze.
Kitty rushed over to the window to get a glimpse, as well. “Oh, and his sisters have come, too!”
“Their visit is certainly not a compliment to Jane, girls.” Mrs. Bennet bustled from sofa to sofa, straightening cushions. “I am sure they come only to see Miss Darcy.”
Elizabeth stifled a chuckle—even the youngest Bennets recognized that Jane and Bingley were perfect for each other, though their mother would not. Elizabeth looked at Jane and Georgiana and raised her eyebrows as she moved towards her young sisters.
“Come away from the window, dears,” Elizabeth whispered to Kitty and Lydia. As she made her way to the door, she stopped briefly next to Georgiana’s chair. Touching her bruised cheek, she said, “I cannot remain. Will you come up after their visit?”
Georgiana nodded.
The only access to the stairs was through the entrance hall. Since Mrs. Bennet’s orders had specified that Elizabeth would need to remove upstairs if they should have visitors, Mrs. Hill stood waiting for Elizabeth to pass before opening the door. As Elizabeth slipped by, the housekeeper pointed at the table and said softly, “Letter, Miss.”
“Thank you, Hill,” Elizabeth whispered. She snatched the letter off the table and hurried to her chambers.
~%~
~London
“My assignment was quite dull this time—nothing more than a prisoner transfer,” Richard said as he poured his cousin and himself a brandy, then held a glass out to Darcy. Seeing the bruises and abrasions on Darcy’s hand only confirmed what he had already guessed. His cousin had been brawling. “You look like you need my finest stock. Something is amiss.”
Darcy explained the situation as fully as he could. When he thought of telling Richard about the gypsies and the drawings, he began to understand Elizabeth’s apprehension. Elizabeth was correct; it would most definitely sound insane! His cousin just might have him locked up if he mentioned it.
Richard’s reaction to the news was as violent as Darcy had expected. After Richard had calmed down enough to think more clearly, Richard said, “Wickham is a crafty devil and does not fight fairly. Miss Elizabeth has surely gained my respect for doing so well against him.”
“She an extraordinary lady,” Darcy responded.
Richard watched his cousin carefully as he said, “I recognized your admiration and regard even before this occurred, whenever either you or Georgiana spoke of her. It was especially obvious to me when I saw you together in Hertfordshire.”
Darcy closed his eyes and groaned in defeat. There was no sense hiding his feelings any longer, as least not from Richard. “Is it that noticeable?”
“I know you well, Cousin, so it is obvious to me.”
Darcy nodded. “I have attempted to deny it, but I fear that my heart is already lost to her. Every time I am with her, I am close to asking her to court, if not marry, me; then I remember all the difficulties inherent in a match between us. What am I to do, Richard?”
Richard laughed at Darcy’s hopeless expression. “You can be such a numbskull at times. Just ask her to marry you and get it over with.”
“It is not that simple.” Darcy shook his head. “I am certain you can see the obstacles.”
“She is not a gentleman’s daughter?” Richard asked, playing the devil’s advocate.
“Of course she is a gentleman’s daughter. Her father owns Longbourn, where Georgiana is staying whilst I am in Town. It is a small estate, but respectable.”
“From what I saw at Lucas Lodge, Miss Elizabeth is certainly beautiful. She seems an intelligent lady, but my exposure to her was brief... perhaps I was wrong?” Richard stopped speaking at seeing his cousin’s annoyed expression.
“You are not wrong.” Darcy smiled. “And she is not afraid to speak her mind, which I admire. She has put me in my place when necessary.”
Richard tried his best not to smile. “I like her all the more for that! Miss Elizabeth has earned your good opinion—a miracle in itself. You have never before had such a high opinion of a lady, and I suspect that, after all she has done, it is higher still. From what I can see, even the thought of the lady teases a smile from that serious face of yours.”
Darcy’s expression changed. “Her dowry is almost nonexistent.”
“And you have suddenly become a gambler or are otherwise deeply in debt? Are you in danger of losing Pemberley?”
“Do not be ridiculous, Richard! Of course not.”
“Then has an older son of George Darcy been discovered somewhere, and you have lost your inheritance?”
“You know very well that is not so—why are you asking such foolish questions?” Darcy grumbled.
Richard looked upon him with an innocent expression. “I am trying to work out why there is a need for you to marry for money, Cousin.”
“I do not need the income from a large dowry—”
“Ah, but there will be talk!” Richard bit the inside of his cheek. Holding back his mirth was becoming more difficult with each goad.
“Talk!” Darcy scoffed. “Have you not noticed by now that there will always be talk? If Elizabeth can take on Wickham and has handled herself well with Bingley’s sisters, she would be able to outwit almost anyone in the ton.”
“Except, perhaps, my mother,” Richard offered, noting that Darcy was now using her Christian name.
“Of course; but, in my opinion, there would be no need.” Darcy expanded on his line of thinking, “As neither of her own sons are on the precipice of marriage, would not your mother be grateful to Elizabeth for getting me to settle down, at least?”
“Hmm... true, true. You are like a son to her, Cousin, and your children will be treated almost as if they were her own grandchildren. I, for one, would be eternally grateful if you should fulfill my mother’s need for a family wedding to attend, for it would take her focus off my unmarried status! Believe me when I say that my brother would surely welcome Miss Elizabeth into the family for that reason alone, even if he did not like her—although I am certain he would.”
“Aunt Catherine... well, if I married any lady other than Anne, she would not approve, so I would be even there. Such a charming lady as Elizabeth would easily win over the remainder of both the Fitzwilliam and Darcy branches of the family.”
“But then there is her family... her mother and younger sisters...” Richard shook his head in disapproval. He wondered if his cousin realized the only reason he was pressing him was to help him face his fears.
Darcy snif
fed. “Whoever has the perfect relations themselves can cast the first stone.”
Darcy’s expression was one that Richard had often seen whenever his cousin had triumphed in a debate. Richard could no longer hold back his mirth and laughed out loud.
Allowing time for Richard’s outburst to abate, Darcy opened his mouth to speak, but his cousin interrupted, “By the by, Darcy, you have no need to worry about gaining your sister’s support. Since she has been at Netherfield, I received a letter from Georgie. She heartily approves of a match between you and Miss Elizabeth. In truth, as you have made no advances yourself, your little sister had planned to try her hand at matchmaking.” Raising his eyebrows, Richard hesitated. “So what are you waiting for?”
“As soon as Wickham and Younge are on a ship to Australia, I will return to Hertfordshire to ask permission to speak to Elizabeth.”
“Good!” Richard tightened his eyes in thought. “Returning to the subject of Georgiana, if I am not mistaken—did you not say that Georgiana had planned to sit with you and Miss Elizabeth for supper during the ball, but she removed to her rooms beforehand?”
Darcy nodded.
“I would guess she did this on purpose, as a ploy to leave you relatively alone with Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s eyes opened wide. He moved to the edge of his seat. “Are you saying that if I had acted sooner, none of that would have happened?”
Richard huffed. “Of course not, Darcy. As usual, you take too much blame on yourself. That piece of scum who has the nerve to call himself a man would have slinked into her bedchamber no matter what time Georgiana retired.” Richard got to his feet. “Speaking of which, I wish to see Wickham and Younge myself, but first let us make haste and pay a visit on my friend at the dockyard to see if he knows when the next ship is leaving for Australia,” Richard smiled and clapped his cousin on the shoulder. “Then you can return to Miss Elizabeth and offer your bid for her hand.”
~%~
~Longbourn