She would not allow him to continue and laid her fingers on his lips. “None of that. Tell me what this George Wickham has done in your life.”
Elizabeth listened with increasing anger as Darcy laid bare his dealings with George Wickham, son of his father’s faithful steward. They once were very close friends, but as they aged, the younger Wickham’s true character emerged. He never cared for anyone but himself and his own selfish desires. Darcy’s father resolutely favoured him, spoiling him after a fashion, and Darcy soon felt obliged to take care of any scandal surrounding Wickham lest it attach itself to the Darcy name—or worse, pain his father, who was ill for many years.
The situation with the maids was clear enough. Wickham seduced them—or so Elizabeth hoped. His methods were never discussed. The housekeeper begrudgingly settled matters with Fitzwilliam Darcy instead of the master. Rather than use household funds, with his father possibly learning of the situation, Darcy used his own income. His allowance had always been too generous and well invested. He was not a spendthrift.
When Darcy was two and twenty, his father died, leaving him Master. Wickham was given one thousand pounds, and Darcy’s father particularly recommended that his son assist Wickham in his profession. If Wickham took orders, a valuable living was to be given to him when it became vacant. Wickham soon decided against the church. He was properly compensated and gave up all claims to the living. This was to Darcy’s relief, as Wickham was not suited to the clergy or any position of trust. Yet when the living fell open three years later, he applied to Darcy for it and was rejected.
Wickham became vindictive. Nearly six months ago, Darcy’s sister completed her education and was taken from her school. She was unknowingly placed in the care of a companion who had a prior acquaintance with Wickham.
“I have no doubt the entire thing was designedly done. Mrs. Younge recommended Georgiana visit Ramsgate, and Wickham followed. There he made love to my fifteen-year-old sister!” Darcy’s face was pale, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
“She consented to an elopement. She would have had no benefit of a settlement, but Wickham would have been in complete control of her thirty thousand pound dowry. Or so he thought! I would have fought it in every way imaginable.” He nearly trembled in his fury.
“But they did not marry. You stopped it somehow.” Elizabeth attempted to soothe Darcy and placed her hand on his thigh.
Elizabeth’s confidence in Darcy’s ability to protect his sister pained him, and he tried to remove her hand, but she entwined their fingers instead. “It was only by the merest chance, Elizabeth. I failed her. I shirked my obligation to my sister. If I had not arrived to surprise her, they would have left the next day. I am thankful she acknowledged the whole of it to me.
“I wrote to Wickham, daring him to attempt to blackmail me with Georgiana’s reputation. It appears I was effective, but he could not resist taunting me. When I saw Wickham in the drawing room at Longbourn, next to you, I vowed I would not allow him the chance to harm anyone I love again. I sent an express to my cousin, the one at the War Office, and Wickham was reassigned to a very strict colonel. He will not have the time or means for his usual dissolute ways. Perhaps it will finally be an incentive for him to work hard. I only wish I could do more. Truthfully, I have little hopes of him reforming.”
Elizabeth barely heard him, beyond that he loved her. Roused from her musings by his silence, she was drawn to his sad expression. She leaned into him and kissed him with abandon, in the way he taught her, the way he clearly enjoyed. Soon she was on her knees to reach him better, her hands tangling in his curls. Somehow, she was then seated on his lap, her dressing gown open and his hand cupping her breast. She nearly screamed at the thrilling sensation when he made contact, but he pulled his hand away as though it were burned.
She opened her eyes to see him looking at her intently. Boldly, she returned his hand. They were lost in each other for some minutes. Elizabeth became increasingly aware of a growing hardness under her thigh, when suddenly she was pushed back to her seat, and Darcy was pacing before her.
When she was able to speak again, she rose to embrace and beseech him. “Please, do not push me away.”
“Elizabeth, I cannot control myself. I never can when I am with you. You rob me of my good sense. I will retire to my chambers tonight. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you. I have an obligation to protect you, even from myself. You will have to help me through the next few months.”
Elizabeth was quite confused. “Months? My...my condition will be over in a matter of days.”
“Days? I do not see how that is possible...”
“William, I rather think I would know a woman’s condition better than you.”
“Well, I suppose that is true...”
“Did the doctor tell you to abstain for months?”
“No, in fact, he assured me that you would inform me when all was well.”
“You see.”
Darcy could make no sense of the conflicting information he believed he had. Was it possible they only needed to abstain at the early stages of pregnancy? Darcy could not abide his ignorance. He must find a book to enlighten him or call on the physician. At the moment, he could not muster more coherent thoughts as Elizabeth was kissing him again.
Elizabeth tugged on his hand. “Now come to our bed.”
“I still think it best to go to my own room. Surely you must know most wives do not share their husband’s beds.”
“But I am not most wives. I am your wife and a wife with deep affection for her husband.”
“Deep affection?”
“Very deep.”
If it were true, and he only needed to master himself for a few more days, matters were changed entirely! Darcy only grinned and allowed her to lead him to their bed.
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth heard the maid stoking the fire and blushed. She was thankful Darcy had closed the bed curtains. Although the maid could not see them together, she must certainly know. Elizabeth’s mortification could not last long as she gazed affectionately at the man who still had her wrapped tightly against his chest. The sun was just rising, and while it was still dark behind the bed curtains, she could see he had never looked so handsome or peaceful before.
He lay on his back with one arm holding Elizabeth tightly to his side, her head on his shoulder, hearing his heartbeat. Her hand draped lovingly on his chest. She fingered the dark hair there, pleased to have his shirt open, allowing her to touch his skin. Who knew a man looked this way under all those layers of clothes? She had seen statues and paintings, of course, but they were so very different from a man in the flesh. The acknowledgment of his bare skin reminded her that parts of her were exposed and nearly glued to his side.
After she coaxed Darcy to the bed, he resumed kissing and touching her in the same manner as on the sofa. Elizabeth soon learned to be grateful to whoever determined night shifts should have easy openings in the front. The thrill she felt through the thin fabric was exponentially intensified when Darcy’s large, bare hand, and later mouth, reverently caressed her exposed skin.
In their few amorous encounters, Darcy had always worn many layers. Even last night, he wore his dressing gown, but he took it off when he slipped beneath the counterpane the final time. Now she was able to feel his flesh and the strength of his true form and combined with it her memories of the night before.
She could hardly explain the sensations, but she was beginning to feel quite undone when Darcy began to slow the kisses and frenzied path his hands travelled from her face, along her waist and hips to her thighs and back to her breasts. As she gasped for breath, Darcy quickly excused himself. He was only gone a few minutes, and Elizabeth had only just recovered her steady breathing when he returned and drew her close, kissing her forehead. She could feel the tension in his body had gone.
He was stroking her hair and was nearly asleep when she spoke to him. “William?”
“Hmm?”
/> “Tell me a secret. Some foolishness from your youth.” He tensed just a little. “That is...if it does not distress you. I would not want you to remember things involving...” She knew it was a pain to him if she even pronounced the name Wickham.
“No, no. Hmm... When I was ten, I was riding with my cousin Henry at Pemberley, and we were not to go through a certain field. Henry was obedient, but I taunted him. I do not know why; I was not usually the type to disobey. I suppose even then I was arrogant, for no one had explained why we should avoid that field, and I thought better of my own opinion.”
She smirked a little, easily believing him arrogant even as a child, and Darcy teasingly pinched her arm.
“We had always ridden through it, for it was the best stretch for racing—it had no trees and few rocks. Neither of us was thinking of what damage the storms might have done to the field. Our horses stumbled in the mud and overturned us.”
At her gasp, he hastily explained, “We were only bruised, but our horses were severely injured. Henry’s fared better than mine; he was a more experienced rider, but mine went lame and had to be put down.
“We obviously had to confess everything to my father. Henry tried to take the blame, as he was older, but my father punished me more harshly. He said there was a difference between being the master and the responsibilities of a second son, as Henry is. I cannot always have my own way. My opinion may not always be sound, my choices affect others—innocent others—and many will defer to me even when they know me to be wrong. Other than Henry and Father, no one else aside from the stable hands knows of that foolishness. I was too proud to dare let someone think ill of me, even as a child.”
Elizabeth was astonished at his opinion of the incident. She shook her head. He always held himself more accountable than others. His words broke through her thoughts, “And you?”
“When I was fifteen, my mother had gone to Meryton and left Jane and me behind. Mrs. Long called, and we sat with her. Jane rang for tea, but Mrs. Long did not think it was arriving quickly enough, so I was to speak to the housekeeper. Instead, I went down to the kitchen and switched out the sugar for salt when the cook was not watching. Mrs. Long, among many other faults, was excessively stingy with sugar in her own house, but as a visitor, she took her tea with heaps and heaps of it. I believe I cured her of that!
“Mrs. Long eagerly retold the neighbourhood of her dreadful experience, and when Mama heard of it, she shouted at poor Cook. I had no choice but to explain my wrongdoing to Father, who waved me off. I think that was the first time I became conscious that my actions affect many others and to treat my servants with true respect and esteem. He never told my mother, but I decided to apologise to Cook.”
“Good Lord, Elizabeth,” Darcy said in an awestruck tone.
“I know, it was so terrible of me!”
“No, it is rather amusing. I can imagine Mrs. Long’s expression, even!” He chuckled. “I would ask why you were receiving callers at fifteen, but I believe I can guess.”
“Yes, Mama had us all out that young. I know it sounds ridiculous, but she was always so worried about the entail. Her father died young and very suddenly.”
“Dear, I am not judging your mother. As much as I jested about the six potential offers for you at Bingley’s ball, I only just realised that at any point in the last five years, you might have married another. I might never have found you!” He squeezed her tightly.
Elizabeth let out a mirthless laugh. “There was hardly any chance of that. Jane was the one with all the suitors.”
“No one wrote you verses?”
“Hardly!”
He hugged her tight again. “Then I shall be the first.”
“Hmm,” she said, then sighed.
“That was a heavy sigh, Mrs. Darcy.”
“I am just happy.”
She could feel Darcy’s smile as he kissed her forehead. “I am glad.”
They had been silent for several minutes before he added, “And Elizabeth, I would have found you. I was always meant to find you.”
She replied, so softly even she could barely hear it, “Yes, you were.”
During her musings, Elizabeth had not realised her hand continued to stroke over Darcy’s chest and absently journeyed lower, lower, until she heard a harsh intake of breath.
She pulled her hand away and looked up at Darcy’s face, discovering his eyes on her with such intensity and longing she felt aflame. Fleetingly, she acknowledged that she felt no fear, only trust. Conveying with her eyes what her mouth could not say, she eagerly met Darcy’s passionate kisses.
*****
The sun was a little higher in the sky than it was the day before when Elizabeth and Darcy finally sat down for breakfast. Darcy pretended to ignore the smirks of the footmen as they brought the trays to the dining parlour. He could hardly blame them and was in much too good a mood to care.
“Elizabeth, I regret very much that I must say this, given our separation all day yesterday, but as we agreed to miss service this morning and you know I needed to tend to some business matters in London, and I truly need to spend some time at it today. I dislike leaving you alone again for an entire day. I know you will meet her this evening, but I could ask if my sister has time to call after church.”
“Oh! I would enjoy that. I was sorry to not meet her at the wedding.” She coloured a little. “That is, I understand why it was not possible. I only hope she will like me. I will very much miss having all my sisters.”
He smiled. “She will love you. Perhaps while we wait to hear the response, you might sit in the library with me as I write letters?”
“It would be a pleasure.”
Darcy could barely contain his chuckle. It certainly was.
“Will you tell me more about the relatives I will meet this afternoon?” she asked.
“Certainly. You have met my uncle already. Aunt Eleanor is much like you: clever and kind. Their eldest son, Frederick, Viscount Arlington, is jovial and a great orator. The next son is Henry, the one in the War Office. He will flirt outrageously with you. He cannot resist a pretty face and enjoys provoking me in all things. Laura and her husband, Stephen, the Baron of Halifax, will also be present. She is friendly and witty, and Stephen is a very sensible man, although he has a peculiar fascination with all things nautical, as he had wanted to join the navy, and might bore you on the subject. He and Henry get into rousing debates on their merits within the military. The youngest, John, may be absent as he may still be in court then, but he is very affable.
He paused for a moment. “I said it before, but Georgiana truly will love you. You know the trials she has faced. I beg you do not perceive her shyness as arrogance. I believe you could be a true friend to her, help restore her confidence and open nature. You are very gifted with people, Elizabeth.”
“Thank you. I would like that. I would like to have her as a friend, as well as a sister.”
Darcy hoped he did not perceive a hint of nervousness in her voice. Perhaps she was concerned about being lonely, coming from a house so full of family to just him and eventually his sister. Until the baby comes, he reminded himself. He frequently needed to remind himself of the baby coming. They had not spoken of it since the night before their wedding, but they would have more time to worry over preparations when they arrived at Pemberley.
He suspected until she exhibited more signs of the pregnancy or clearly showed her condition that he would have difficulty realising its effects on his life. Even when he believed her ill upon reaching the house, he did not consider the pregnancy the cause until the doctor explained matters.
Their meal was soon complete. Elizabeth asked to write the letter to Georgiana, and soon they settled in the library together. Darcy attended to business while Elizabeth read. He smiled at the quiet contentment they shared, much like the day that changed his life forever, but without the agony of believing she would never be his. He smiled to himself and shook his head at the memory of the fool of a man who sat i
n the Netherfield library nearly three weeks ago, insisting he needed to conquer his infatuation with Elizabeth.
She occasionally hummed some tune, and other than a solitary remark or two, they seemed almost accepting of the necessity to be employed in their separate matters. Darcy had not realised how much time had passed until there was a knock on the library door, followed by a cry of alarm from Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth! What has happened?” He made for her side, surprised to see at some point she had stopped reading and had been sewing a garment.
“Your handkerchief!” She jumped up and met him half way.
He obediently produced it, and she dabbed at her finger with the edge. There was another knock at the door. Certain she was well, Darcy bade the servant enter. He arrived with a note from his sister at Sidney House.
Darcy turned to Elizabeth just as she was removing the soiled handkerchief. The blot was not very large, but she was frowning at it just the same. Darcy had some odd impression that he had seen this before and, after a moment, seized upon the notion that this must be how Elizabeth produced the blood for their linens the day before. The blots were similar in size.
“I am sorry. I am so clumsy!” She blushed and seemed unsure what to do with the soiled cloth.
“Give it to me. I will set it aside and let Jennings determine if it is worth laundering.”
“Oh, I am certain it is ruined. I am no stranger to bloodied handkerchiefs, you see. I am terrible at embroidery and apparently am little better as a seamstress. Perhaps we might cleverly cut around it and make a little doll to send with the rest of the items.”
“The rest of the items?”
“I noticed the Darcy family has a long history of being particularly charitable to the Foundling Hospital.” She raised her chin a little. “I know it is quite the fashion to donate clothing and baskets to them as well as cash. Lucky for the children, the great ladies care to think about them this season.”
“Thank you for caring so much about our charitable interests.” He paused for a moment. “Am I correct to assume you dislike the false charity some ladies bestow on the hospital?”
A Sense of Obligation Page 20