by Ola Wegner
She had instantly done as he asked. She had always agreed with everything he said and asked from her. She had never argued with him. It had been boring, but it was what he paid her for, after all.
In short words, he had announced his current situation, that he was happily engaged, planning to be married within a month, and that he had to terminate their agreement from this day on. Before she could respond, he assured her that he was aware how sudden the news must be for her. He promised that he would pay her allowance, and accept her bills for the next six months so she have time to adjust to her new situation.
Her reaction angered him. She had said that she was willing to maintain their contacts even after his marriage.
“Absolutely not,” he declared before standing up and directing himself to the door.
She had walked after him, and touched his arm before he managed to leave, drawing his attention. Then she looked him in the eye.
“Forgive me,” she said. Her face looked so different, older and wiser. It was as if she had always worn a mask of pleasant contentment before, and only now could he see her true self. “I did not want to offend you.”
He nodded, accepting her apology. “I wish you all the best,” he answered stiffly. “Goodbye.”
He was more than astonished when she stepped to him, locking her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Before he could push her away from him, she whispered. “She is a very lucky woman your fiancée, your Lizzy. I do hope that she is aware of that, but if she is not, you know my address.”
“No. That will not be necessary, I assure you,” he said and then abruptly left, desiring to be away as quickly as possible.
The visit had made him very uneasy. He felt discomfort even now and was relieved to end this chapter in his life. Now, as a married man, he would not need to look for physical fulfilment elsewhere. He had never felt entirely comfortable with the fact that he had kept the mistress in the first place.
He was not entirely certain whether Elizabeth would allow him in her bed right from the beginning, but surprisingly, it did not bother him. He could wait a few months till she would be ready to accept him. He did not want to force her into intimacy that she was not ready for, even if he was more than ready, eager even.
There had been a time when he had cursed the fact that passion for physical release ran rather strong in him. He had tried to restrain for longer periods of time, but prolonged abstinence seemed to bring out the worst in him; he was short with the people around him and in a constantly foul mood. Keeping himself under good regulation was a challenge indeed when it came to matters of the flesh.
He remembered that when he had been a lad of fifteen or sixteen, he had spent every single night pleasuring himself. Now, as he thought of that, he marveled that his manhood had not fallen off, nor had his hand become permanently deformed with his actions.
His father had been too ill at that time to notice what bothered him. Darcy had refused to follow Wickham’s way of dealing with a problem, which was cornering maids and tenant daughters. Such conduct was beneath Darcy men. His pride in his family name had fought down his lust in that case.
It was his cousin, Richard, not yet a colonel then, who had helped him. It had been when he reached eighteen, the year he had gone to university. Richard brought him to one of his lady friends in Matlock. She must have been in her thirties, a widow, owning her own store, which she had inherited after her husband had passed. Darcy had remembered that first time to be such an immense relief for him. It had not even bothered him that his cousin had been sitting in the next room, reading a book about ancient war tactics, throughout the whole act.
She had been a pleasant looking woman, and very kind to him, and thus he had visited her several times more.
His thoughts were interrupted with a knock at the door. He frowned, putting his half emptied drink away and called to enter. He could not imagine what business someone might have with him at such a late hour.
The butler walked in, his expression exasperated.
“Is something the matter, Stewart?”
“Yes, sir, there is a lad here, demanding to see you,” the man explained.
“Did he explain why he wants to see me?” he asked calmly.
“Yes, Master. He says that he has a letter for you, but he would not give it to me,” the man huffed. “He insists on giving it to you personally. He says that it is a message from a Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy bolted from his chair, starting the servant. “Why did you not tell me this in the first place?” he cried. “Bring him here immediately, or no, I will go myself.”
His butler gaped. “Yes, Master. The boy is at the door.”
Darcy strode through the house, straight to the main entrance. He tore the door open to see a lad around fifteen years old, standing by his horse.
“Hello there,” he cried.
The boy looked up. “Are you Mr. Darcy, sir?” he asked, coming closer.
“I am. Do you have a message from Miss Elizabeth for me?”
“Yes, sir. She told me to give it to your hands only.” He reached behind his jacket, procuring what looked like a small sealed note.
Darcy took it, trying to read the name of the top in the semi darkness. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was written in a pretty, tight feminine script.
“Miss Elizabeth said I should wait for your answer.”
“Is she well?” Darcy asked worriedly. Something must have happened if she had a need to contact him at ten in the evening.
“She is well, sir,” the boy assured.
“Come inside the house, you will wait in the kitchen for my answer. I am sure that the cook has something for you there.”
The lad’s face brightened. “Thank you, sir.”
Darcy turned to Stewart and the other servant who stood behind him, “Take the boy to the kitchen, feed him, his horse goes to stable so it may rest,” he ordered.
He hurried back inside, opening the seal on the note under the light of the nearest candle.
Dear Sir,
Forgive me disturbing you at such a late hour, but the sudden illness in the family forces me to do so.
Illness? She seemed perfectly well when he had seen her in the morning. The lad, too, claimed that she was well.
With fear creeping in his chest he returned to reading.
The youngest Gardiner child, little Fred, became feverish just as you left us earlier today. My dear aunt hoped it was nothing too serious, however, his temperature has risen steadily since the afternoon, now accompanied with very unpleasant cough.
My aunt is afraid to allow him to travel tomorrow. Understandably, she does not wish to leave him in London alone with the nanny. It has been just decided that only my uncle will accompany Jane and me to Hertfordshire while my aunt will stay with the children in town. She fears that the other children may become ill as well in the next few days.
My uncle is unwilling to leave his family in London without the carriage at their disposal. It is our understanding that you plan to travel to Longbourn tomorrow yourself. Would you mind if Jane, my uncle, and I go with you in your carriage? We hoped to depart early in the morning, no later than eight.
The boy with will await your reply.
I thank you in advance,
Elizabeth Bennet.
Darcy marched to his study where he hastily pulled out a fresh sheet of letter-paper. The little man he remembered so well from his conversation in Mr. Gardiner’s study was sick then. Well, the little chap had no luck, first the teeth, now a fever. He understood how worried his parents must have been. His sister, too, had been sick often as a young child.
My dearest Elizabeth,
He began his answer. The tone of Elizabeth’s note was polite, but rather cold. He reminded himself that it was too early to expect endearments on her part, especially in their current situation, but it still hurt him that she had been so abrupt.
I am immensely sorry to hear about the illness in the Gardiner house. I can reco
mmend an excellent physician. He cared for Georgiana when she was ill as a little girl. She was quite prone to catching colds as we stayed in London during winter months, and he always managed to help her. I can arrange for him to visit the Gardiners and see the child. Please pass my offer to your aunt.
I would be more than happy to offer my carriage to your disposal. It is only sound that we should all travel together, especially in the current situation when the child is ill.
You can expect me at seven o’clock sharp, so that we may depart before eight, as was your wish.
I wish you a good night's rest, my love.
Faithfully yours,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
He sealed the letter and called the servant, asking him to summon the lad.
The boy entered his study within a few minutes.
“Here is my response to Miss Elizabeth,” he said, giving him the note. “You did well.” He smiled down at the lad, handing him a few coins. He knew well that it probably equalled what the child made for three months at the Gardiner’s household.
“Oh, thank you, sir!” the boy exclaimed, beaming in awe at the money in his hand. Hastily, he hid his pay and the note inside his jacket.
Darcy walked the boy to the entrance, making sure that he got on his horse and rode away in the right direction.
He turned to the butler, eyeing him solemnly. “You will always inform me without delay if there is a message from Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Of course, sir,” Stewart nodded. “I was not aware that… it is a priority.”
“It is indeed,” he answered calmly. “Miss Bennet is your future Mistress.”
With these words, he turned on his heel, and climbed the stairs. It was high time to retire. It was late, and he had promised Elizabeth to be at the Gardiners’ early tomorrow morning. He needed a good night's sleep.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth raised her gaze carefully, looking from behind her eyelashes at the man sitting in front of her. Yes, nothing had changed; he was still looking at her. Could she ask him to stop? Was he not aware that it was rude to stare at people in such a manner? She truly did not understand why he looked at her like that. She was not a beauty, he had said it himself, and she was tolerable in his opinion.
She glanced across the carriage to see Jane and her uncle sleeping soundly. Mr. Darcy’s grand carriage certainly offered the best condition to take a nap. They must have been exhausted; the last couple of days had been taxing, especially the previous night with little Fred screaming his little lungs out. Poor little one; he could only cry, he could not tell them what hurt him. Elizabeth sincerely hoped that the baby would get better soon. Her aunt was so worried about her boy. Mrs. Gardiner had not slept the entire night, carrying Fred in her arms, trying to calm him down.
Elizabeth was both eager and afraid of going home. Without Papa, Longbourn was not her home anymore. Never again would she see him through an open window on her return from a walk, reading in the library.
The tightening in her throat and the new tears prickling in her eyes were signs that she was close to weeping again. It was no time or place for that. She needed to direct her attention to something different.
“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered, leaning slightly forward.
He looked her right in the eye, his expression confused, as if he did not believe that she had actually spoken to him.
“Yes, love,” he answered in the same hushed tone.
She felt her face glow hot. She was not certain how she felt about Mr. Darcy calling her endearments. It was very unsettling.
“I must thank you for giving my aunt the address and the letter to the doctor. I know how much she appreciates it.”
“Anyone would do that,” he shrugged. “Dr Graves is a good physician, and I am saying this from my own experience. He does not take on new patients often, and that is why I wrote him the letter. He took care of Georgiana a few times. She always managed to develop nasty colds during our stays in London. I think that the air in town does not suit her well.”
“I am not entirely certain whether anyone would do such a thing to help a stranger,” she opposed. “It was very thoughtful of you.”
“I would not say that the Gardiners are strangers to me, not anymore,” he offered. “Helping them in such a small way seems natural, even expected.”
She frowned, not understanding his denial. “You do not enjoy when someone praises your kindness?”
“I simply do not see anything unusual in my deed.”
“May I disagree with you on that?” she asked.
He smiled. “Of course you may.”
His deep set eyes stared into hers with intensity, and she felt the heat creeping on her cheeks. She had never before blushed in the presence of a man so often, not even when she had thought herself being infatuated with Wickham. Insufferable man, why did he evoke such emotions in her?
She broke their eye contact and looked outside the window. It was a rainy day, and the road was becoming more muddy with every mile. She suspected that they would reach Meryton later than expected.
A warm, large, gloved hand was placed on her knee, and she froze. Slowly she looked up at him. His gaze was concentrated on her face, and he was leaning forward from his seat.
She glanced quickly to the right to make sure that her uncle and her sister were not paying them any attention. Thankfully, Jane was still dozing, her plump lips half open, shaping into a small 'o.' Mr. Gardiner was stretched across nearly half of the spacious carriage, snoring lightly.
“I truly like the Gardiners,” Darcy whispered, making her look at him again.
“They like you too,” she whispered back.
His hand moved from her knee to touch the side of her face.
“Perhaps we could invite them to Pemberley for the summer.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Truly? What about the children?”
“With the children, of course,” he answered without hesitation. “I believe that the little ones could only benefit from the fresh air in the country.”
She gaped at him unbelievably, her heart fluttering quickly as he stroked her cheek. Was this the same cold, unfeeling, rude man whom she had known last year?
“That would be very agreeable indeed,” she rasped, not trusting her voice anymore.
“Then it is settled,” he smiled, dropping his hand from her face, retreating back to his seat.
Elizabeth shifted towards the window, and closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would come. Surprisingly, it did, because the next thing she felt was someone shaking her.
“Elizabeth, love, wake up. We have arrived at Longbourn.”
She blinked her eyes and saw Darcy’s face in front of her.
“So soon?” she murmured, stretching her arms, yawning.
He chuckled. “It actually took longer than I expected because of the weather.”
She looked to the side. “Where are Jane and my uncle?”
“They have already gone inside. I believe that they are upstairs with your mother. We tried to wake you, well, your sister tried, but you only elbowed her, murmuring something in protest.”
He was grinning at her, clearly amused.
“I was tired,” she murmured defensively.
His eyes caressed her. “Of course you were, but now as you are conscious again, I think we should follow Jane and Mr. Gardiner.”
She yawned into her hand and moved her hands to her head to check whether her bonnet was in the right place. Darcy moved swiftly out of the carriage and waited for her outside.
It was pouring rain, and as she looked down from the step of the carriage, she noticed that the usually neatly gravelled path leading to the main entrance was now one big puddle. Well, a little rain had never harmed her before.
Before, however, she could step down on the ground, a dark coat was put around her, covering her completely, and a secure hold was placed around her waist.
In no time, she was inside, her feet never tou
ching the wet ground. Mr. Darcy had actually carried her, keeping her to him with only one arm. He was strong. She remembered how her father had done the same when she and Jane were little girls. He would pin each of them under one of his arms, and run around the garden. Poor Papa, to end his life so young, and in such tragic circumstances.
“What it the matter?” Darcy asked, lifting her chin up.
She touched her face, finding new tears. Hastily, she dried her cheeks with the back of her sleeve. “I only remembered how Papa carried Jane and me in the same fashion as you just did, when we were little. Our mother would run after him, crying to put us down, afraid that we would vomit, ruining our pretty dresses.
He stepped closer, putting his arms around her, bringing her to him gently so she could support herself on him.
As she placed her head on his chest, he spoke.
“I remember my father teaching me to ride a horse when I was five years old. My dear mother was beside herself with worry and was following the pony every step, despite the fact that my father was just beside me.”
She smiled into his coat. “Did you fall?”
“Yes, but only a few times. Father always said that I was a natural on a horse.”
She could hear the pride in his voice, but this time, she could not hold it against him.
“Cousin Elizabeth! What are you doing here with Mr. Darcy?!”
She turned to see Mr. Collins coming out of the library. His eyes were round, bulging out of his plump face.
Elizabeth’s heart squeezed painfully in instant worry. What was he doing here so soon? He must have left Kent right after her.
“Dear Cousin!” the man exclaimed, approaching them. “Have you no decency in the face of your father’s death? Mr. Darcy is engaged to the daughter of my noble patroness, Lady Catherine. It is shameful of you to stand here, grasping on him like some common…”
He did not finish, as Darcy abruptly moved forward, interrupting him in a low, menacing tone. “One more word, and I will order the servants to throw you out of this house.”