His Uncle's Favorite

by Lilian, Lory

  “It is ironic that you have debts of honour, when you seem to have no honour at all,” Mr. Bennet responded bitterly. “It makes your present situation even more pitiable, but again there is nothing I can do.”

  “I understand that; however, if there is a desire for a reasonably discreet solution, I am certain resources could be found in your…extended family.”

  “What do you want, Wickham?” Darcy inquired coldly. “Spare me your appalling tirade; there are no fools here.”

  “It is not what I want but what I imperatively need in order to assure a decent living for my future wife. I cannot enter into a marriage unless my debt problems are entirely solved. I cannot expose my wife to the shame of—”

  “Enough, Wickham! Your voice sickens me. What else?”

  “I wish nothing more than that Mr. Bennet gives Lydia what is her right. However, I will need another living…perhaps another commission somewhere… And of course, a special license will be needed, but unfortunately I cannot afford to apply for one, so…”

  Darcy stepped closer, his cold eyes fixed on Wickham’s face.

  “I need a detailed list of your creditors by tomorrow morning. I will return around noon, and by then I want to meet Miss Lydia, too. I shall speak to her alone before taking any further steps. I hope it does not cross your mind to refuse this; you must know that I will send my men to search for her immediately, and you will be followed closely. You cannot hide from me. Do not trifle with me, Wickham. If I once showed weakness in dealing with you, it is over. Do not try my patience.”

  “Darcy, I am not—”

  “Wickham, I have wasted enough of my time with you. We shall see you again tomorrow at noon. There is only one more thing I wish to make clear: if Miss Lydia is harmed in any way, if she was in any way forced into this situation, there will be no escape for you; you must be aware of this.”

  “She is unharmed,” Wickham said. “And, though it is ungentlemanlike of me to say it, she entered into the situation willingly. I might say the elopement was her idea.”

  “Of course it was. I am certain a girl of fifteen convinced a man of twenty-five to elope with her. You are a pathetic joke, Wickham,” the colonel replied and cursed.

  “I will see you tomorrow at noon,” Darcy concluded and left the room at a quick pace, followed by the other two gentlemen. Outside the house, he stopped near the carriage and breathed deeply a few times to regain his composure.

  “I have never been so ashamed or so angry in my entire life,” said Mr. Bennet. “We should not satisfy his demands; I should not give him more than I can afford. It is not fair to take full responsibility, Mr. Darcy. What do you think he will do if you refuse him?”

  “I am not certain, but I will not take the risk of finding out. I cannot possibly allow this situation to burden Elizabeth any longer. Besides, I am truly worried about Miss Lydia; we must ensure that he fetches her. I fear she might be in danger.”

  “What do you mean? He said she is with one of his friends.”

  “Wickham has no friends whom he might trust except those who truly worry me. We must solve this as soon as possible. In truth, I consider the best solution for Miss Lydia would be to marry him and then become a widow,” Darcy said, and both gentlemen looked at him in shock. He smiled bitterly. “I am only speaking in jest.”

  “Well, the idea is not entirely uninteresting,” the colonel said seriously.

  “Mr. Darcy, you said Lydia might be in danger. Would it not be too late to wait until morning? Could we not try to find her now? The night is still early and—”

  “Mr. Bennet, forgive me for worrying you more than is necessary. There is nothing we can do for now. Please trust me. We should all go home and rest; hopefully we will have everything settled by tomorrow evening.”

  “Very well. Please leave me in Gracechurch Street, sir. There are many things I need to discuss with my sister Gardiner. I will stay at her house for the night.”

  A few minutes later, Mr. Bennet entered the Gardiners’ house, worried, thoughtful, his shoulders down, and burdened by distress. Darcy looked after him helplessly.

  The next stop was Lord Matlock’s house, and the two cousins separated, planning to meet again first thing in the morning.

  Darcy’s carriage departed at a steady pace while the colonel entered the house and did not stop until the library. He hastily poured himself a glass of brandy, emptied it with one gulp and then filled it again.

  “Well, you seem to be quite thirsty. An interesting evening, I presume?” The colonel startled and almost dropped the glass as he saw the earl watching him with a smile.

  “Father…why are you not sleeping at such a late hour?”

  “I might ask you the same question, son,” the earl replied, well humoured.

  “Forgive me—I shall go to my room. I am not inclined to speak at the moment.”

  “What happened, son? You seem upset. Is something wrong? I understand Darcy’s man was here earlier. What is the matter?”

  The colonel glanced at his father then averted his eyes and poured himself another glass of brandy. The earl took the bottle, but the colonel found another one.

  “Robert, for heaven’s sake, what is wrong?”

  “Do you wish to know what is wrong, Father? Do you truly want to know? Your all-time favourite is wrong—as he always has been. It is nothing more than further proof of Wickham’s unworthiness and his true character. Now that you know, I imagine you are not interested in the details. Even if I should bother to tell you, you would surely find an excuse for his behaviour. I shall go to bed now; I must meet Darcy and Mr. Bennet early in the morning. You should go too, Father.”

  “Robert, please, let us talk! What has Mr. Bennet to do with this? Robert!”

  “Good night, Lord Matlock.”

  ***

  When Darcy arrived home, it was so late that he was certain Elizabeth and Georgiana were long asleep. He briefly stopped at Elizabeth’s door and hesitantly opened it; there was no one inside, and the bed was untouched. He knocked at his sister’s door, and her voice invited him in immediately. As he expected, Elizabeth was there too, both of them in nightgowns, talking. He held their worried, inquiring gazes for a moment then allowed a smile to spread on his face.

  “Why are you ladies awake at this hour?”

  “Oh, Brother, we were so worried that we could not possibly sleep. What news do you have?”

  “Come, let us sit,” he said gently. “I have as good news as can be expected for the moment. We spoke to Wickham and discussed a few things; we will meet again tomorrow, and hopefully we will settle everything as favourably as possible.”

  “Oh, did you hear, Elizabeth? Everything will be fine as we hoped,” she said with excitement while Elizabeth remained silent and still.

  “Now let us go to sleep; we will all meet at breakfast in the morning. Elizabeth, allow me to show you to your room. Good night, my dear,” he said as he gently kissed his sister’s forehead. Georgiana embraced her brother, then Elizabeth, and looked after them as they left the room together. A smile lit her face as she finally felt she could breathe.

  In front of her door, Elizabeth stopped and glanced at him, pleading weakly. “Can we speak for a moment, please? I am begging you… I know you are tired but—”

  He leaned and whispered to her ear, his lips touching her skin. “It never crossed my mind to go to sleep without speaking to you. I just need to go and clean myself a little; then I will come to you shortly. Are you hungry? Do you need anything?”

  “I need nothing but you,” she whispered then blushed violently at the meaning of her own words. He kissed her hands and opened the door for her; she entered, and he held her arm and forced her to stop for another moment, enough for his lips to meet hers briefly.

  Inside her room, Elizabeth felt her entire body quivering and wrapped her hands around herself. Unexpectedly, her heart was filled with warm joy, which burst from inside her chest and spread along her body. His gentle
touch, his deep voice, the scent of his lips on hers and his promise of coming to her room soon turned her despair into hope and her pain into joy. The sharp claw was still clutching her as she had little optimism about Lydia, but she felt there was hope; he was her hope.

  She looked around and climbed into bed, covering herself with the sheets. After the fatigue, lack of sleep, and distress that almost defeated her, she allowed herself to be spoiled by the soft fabric and closed her eyes. She did not hear the door open, but she could feel his presence in the room long before she opened her eyes.

  Darcy wore nothing but his trousers and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, and his hair—a little wet—curled around his temples. His smile warmed her heart while a trace of coldness made her shiver. She smiled back.

  “May I sit near you?” he asked, and she nodded, her cheeks burning.

  He leaned back in the bed next to her, both resting against the pillows. His right arm encircled her shoulders, and he gently pulled her to his chest. His fingers found their way into her loose, silky hair while his other hand entwined with hers.

  “I missed you so much,” he said, and she sighed, brushing her cheek to his chest, only the thin fabric between them. He continued to play with the rebel locks, his fingers briefly touching the bare skin of her neck.

  “Pray tell me, how was the meeting? How is Lydia? And my father? Did you speak to my aunt? What did Papa say? And how dared Mr. Wickham face you all?”

  “We spoke to Mrs. Gardiner earlier and Mr. Bennet returned to spend the night at her house. I am sure he will give her all the details. Mr. Bennet is as well as can be expected. I hope he will regain his usual spirits when this affair is ended. As for Wickham—we met him as we expected, but Miss Lydia was not there. He said she is in the house of one of his friends. I hope to see her tomorrow.”

  “Do you think she is well? Could you not see her tonight? What if he has harmed her?”

  “I am certain she is well; he has no reason to hurt her. I strongly believe that he wishes to marry her; it was his plan from the beginning.”

  “Because of you… He wished to marry Lydia because he knows you will marry me.”

  “Probably,” he replied hesitantly.

  Suddenly, she raised her head to meet his eyes and spoke with a trembling voice.

  “What shall we do now? I cannot force you to become Wickham’s brother—not for the world. I am appalled only thinking of it; I cannot imagine what you must feel…”

  “Elizabeth, what do you mean? Please tell me you do not imply what I think you do…”

  “I do not want you to be forced into this marriage; I do not want to expose you to the shame of being related to such a man. I do not want—”

  “Elizabeth, is this what you meant earlier, just before I left? When you asked me what we will do next, you wished to know whether I intended to annul our wedding?”

  “Yes…I know you would never refuse to comply with your duty, but I wish you to know I would understand if you— Oh, I see you are upset now, are you not?”

  “I am still considering whether I should laugh or be truly upset, Elizabeth. And I wonder how well you know me and how well you trust in my love if you could even consider such a possibility. Am I to understand that, if some unfortunate event should befall my family, you would break our engagement?” he said in earnest.

  “How can you say such a thing, sir? You know that is not true!”

  “How can I know that? And how can I trust your commitment when you doubt mine so easily? Am I so unworthy of your confidence?”

  “Please do not be angry with me,” she said gently. Her eyes, moist with tears, locked with his, and she stretched to reach his face. Her fingers gently brushed along his jaw then daringly caressed his hair. Her face was close to his.

  “I confess I was afraid you might wish to end our engagement; my judgement knew I should trust you, and my mind told me I had nothing to fear, but my heart rarely listens to my mind. I do trust you—I learned to trust you a long time ago—but I still cannot believe that such extraordinary happiness can last. I am afraid that something might happen to break my heart into pieces. And now, you may decide whether you would rather laugh or be upset, sir. I am entirely at your mercy, Mr. Darcy.”

  She was lying atop him, pressed against his chest, her lips almost touching his, her fingers caressing his face. One of his arms encircled her waist, pressing her closer to him while the other hand gently caressed her nape then travelled down to her spine and back to her shoulders. The thin fabric of her nightgown fell from her shoulder, so nothing separated her skin from his burning fingers. Their eyes still held, searching each other’s souls; their lips tantalised each other without really touching. She felt her breasts crushed against his chest while his gentle hands turned more eager, more daring, and more compelling. His movements suddenly stopped, and he cupped her face with both hands.

  “So, Miss Bennet, you feared that I might not wish to marry you any longer, but you still allowed me to come to your room and relax in your bed? Am I correct?”

  She hesitated a moment, as her mind could not comprehend his words easily, and her lips, suddenly dry, did not wish to speak.

  “To be perfectly honest, by the time you came to my room, I already understood that my fears were for naught. Your gaze, your smile, the way you held my hand, the way you whispered into my ear that you would come to my room—all of these made me see the truth. But even if I were not certain of your intentions, I would have allowed you to come to my room; I am ashamed to admit it, but I have no wish to deceive you. I was uncertain whether you intended to marry me or not, but I was never uncertain of your feelings as I was never uncertain of mine—well, at least not in the last month or so…”

  “I am glad you trusted me enough to confess that, Miss Bennet. And I shall forgive you for the time being as I blame your distress and your drowsiness for your bad judgment.”

  “You are very generous, Mr. Darcy…”

  As she spoke, her lips twisted into a small, teasing laugh. Their eyes were still locked, her lips—now moist and red as she licked them repeatedly—only an impudent inch away from his while she brushed her body against him, attempting to find a more comfortable position and oblivious to the sensations aroused within him. Her lack of experience was deliciously compensated by her fresh awareness of her own desires and her newly discovered sensuality.

  He smiled at her and to himself, his heart melting with love while his body painfully bore his restrained passion. With one arm, he pulled her body closer to his, and with the other gently pressed her head to his, until their mouths almost touched—and then he released his grip and closed his eyes, allowing her the liberty of choosing what to do next. Gently, shyly, her lips brushed over his, tantalizing them; he still did not move. As though demanding their rights, her lips pressed against his with more daring, and he could not help laughing against her mouth as he easily recognized her mirroring his own kisses as she learned from them.

  He allowed himself to savour her tentative seduction for a few more moments; then he suddenly rolled her over against the pillows and trapped her with his arms. She was surprised and puzzled, glancing at him in wonder; the thin nightgown had fallen from her shoulders, barely protecting the silky skin of her breasts, which moved heavily with each breath. He leaned towards her, gently removed the locks of hair from her temple then kissed her eyes.

  “Did you read my letters?” he asked, his fingers playing with her hair.

  “Oh, yes…yes I did…thank you,” she answered, lost under his gaze.

  “I hope you enjoyed them, though there were things that are not easy to read or to forgive. I did not want to conceal anything from you. I wrote them honestly with my heart and my mind open to you—my soul and my love in four letters.”

  “I do love them dearly. And I wrote four letters of my own.” She smiled, and his eyes lit immediately. “I wrote down all of my thoughts, all of my feelings, day by day and moment by moment since th
e first day we met—just as you did.”

  “I want to read them,” he said, and his eagerness made her laugh.

  “You will—tomorrow. I brought them with me—my soul and my love in four letters.”

  For some time they looked at each other in perfect silence. Then his left hand slowly caressed her face, and as gentle as a breeze, his fingers traced the line of her neck, slowly brushing over her bare shoulders then down to the edge of her gown. She shivered under his touch, and her breathing became heavier; their eyes continued to hold so each could read the other’s tumult of feelings. His hands continued their conquering journey with gentle tenderness, brushing tentatively through the silky fabric over her breasts, lingering a long, sweet moment; she moaned and closed her eyes though she was not certain whether he truly touched her or she merely craved the warmth of his hands.

  His caresses glided further, still gentle and patient, down to her belly, along her hips, and over her thighs… Not for an instant did he attempt to remove her nightgown; his fingers only touched her bare skin where it was already revealed to him—on her arms, her shoulders, and her neck. His gaze eventually released hers as his lips slowly followed the burning trace of his fingers; countless kisses covered her face, neck, and shoulders until his lips, warm and moist, reached the edge of her gown. Against her desires and hopes, his kisses travelled back until his yearning mouth found hers, and for a time their passion found release in a game of conquest and surrender, of demand and neglect.

  Hardly catching his breath, his hands still caressing her with restless desire, he separated from her a little, watching her beautiful, flustered face, the sparkle in her eyes, and the moist redness of her swollen lips.

  “It is time to stop now, or we might not be able to stop soon enough,” he whispered.

  She daringly held his gaze, her hands encircling his neck. “Do you wish to stop?”

  “I wish nothing more than to continue, my love. But I made a promise to your father, and I plan to keep it. Besides, I certainly do not want to remember our first night together connected to the painful distress you had to bear because of Wickham. Let us sleep now, shall we? I will stay with you a little longer if you wish.”