A time of quiet reflection had made him think again. He did not want to distress or frighten her; certainly he did not want to do anything that would turn her against him. Eventually, he decided to wait upon her in Lilley Place as arranged, but he would behave towards her in the same way as he had always done. Then, when they were out of the city, he would tell her enough about his and Wickham's past history to put her on her guard.
Such was still his resolve when Elizabeth entered the drawing-room where he was being entertained by his sister. He arose at her entrance, smiled, and bowed.
"Have a lovely drive, and bring her back safely," said Georgiana. Then she added, "What a foolish thing to say! Of course you will!"
"I shall endeavor so to do," replied Darcy, bowing slightly. Glancing at Elizabeth, he saw that she was looking happy, confident and even a little smug, and suddenly he felt angry at her assumption that he was as harmless as a lap-dog. At once he renewed his vow to teach her a lesson. He smiled back at her, taking care that his expression was not in his sister's line of vision. This time his smile was subtly different, and he saw the look on her face change from one of confidence to one that was much more uncertain.
For her part, Elizabeth found she was on the receiving end of the kind of measuring look that appeared to be assessing not simply the style and cut of her gown, but exactly what she might be wearing underneath it.
Involuntarily, she took a step back and looked at him as she had found herself doing so recently with alarming frequency, noticing again his broad shoulders, upright figure and manly features. Small wonder that Mrs. Clarke had chased him all the way to Ramsgate! She could almost imagine doing the same herself! She blushed at her thoughts but thankfully, Darcy was at that moment bidding farewell to his sister and repeating his promise to bring his passenger back safely. This comforted Elizabeth a little, but not very much. Suddenly she felt very unsure of him and of herself.
Outside the door, an open carriage was waiting with two horses in harness and a driver on the box. Elizabeth had half expected Darcy to be driving himself. The fact that he was not doing so unnerved her even more, and she hesitated on the pavement.
Darcy, noticing her uncertainty, murmured in a silky tone, "We needn't go if your courage has failed you."
"Certainly not," replied Elizabeth squaring her shoulders. She took his hand in order to climb into the carriage and, as she did so, realized that that was exactly what he had intended.
He climbed in beside her and signaled to the driver to start. She looked at him a little apprehensively, but he smiled in such a disarming way that she could not help smiling back and her fears were somewhat allayed. As they traveled through the city, he talked so amusingly and normally, drawing her attention to places and people that they passed on their journey, that she began to think that the whole enterprise had been just a joke that had long since run its course.
Eventually after a lull in the conversation Elizabeth ventured to say, "Where are you taking me?"
"I was waiting to see when you would become curious enough to ask,” he replied. "I wonder, shall I tell you?" There was a teasing, almost an arch note in his voice that suddenly made her decide to try playing him at his own game.
“I'm sure I do not care,” she replied, tossing her head and looking away from him. He laughed softly, and she turned back to face him in shock. For a brief moment, he had sounded exactly like Colonel Fitzwilliam, and she had half expected to see that Darcy had suddenly turned into his sportive cousin.
"How very convenient for me," he murmured. "Now I may take you anywhere I like. You have just given me permission to do so!"
Deciding that he needed no encouragement after all she said in her normal tone, "Seriously, sir, where are we going?"
He leaned towards her. "How much do you want to know?" he asked. "Should I demand a "fee" of some sort, I wonder?" Elizabeth blushed and turned away. “I wonder, have you any idea how lovely you look when you blush? So few women can do so nowadays."
"Pray do not be absurd, Mr. Darcy," she said, trying to sound normal even though her heart was starting to beat rather fast, partly from fear, and partly owing to some other emotion to which she dared not put a name.
"I hope you do not mean to ask me not to say what I think,” he said. "If I have a good opinion, can I not say so? As for our destination, you can see from the sign that we are leaving Ramsgate, and so your fears are allayed."
They were anything but. Whilst they were in Ramsgate itself, Elizabeth knew that Darcy would keep within the bounds of propriety. Once they were unobserved, however, she was unsure of what this new, audacious Darcy might do.
It happened that the sign for the next town had been on her side of the carriage and he had leaned over a little to point it out to her. Now, he seemed to be sitting closer to her than before and was looking at her, a half smile playing about his lips. She became increasingly aware of the fact that he was bigger and stronger than she and that he had her completely in his power.
In order to divert his attention from herself and to the outing, she said quickly, "How far were you intending to go?"
“As far as I can get away with," he replied audaciously, and she gasped with shock.
"Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed. "I am astonished that you should say such a thing! Please, let us talk normally."
"Why, what can you mean, Miss Bennet?" he asked her, all bland innocence. "I was simply stating my intentions of traveling as far as the day and weather will permit." He paused briefly then went on, “The coachman knows my intentions. He will follow my orders to the letter and will not turn round." He paused again. "Until I tell him, that is. If you will look over to your side of the carriage, my dear, you will see a fine burst of countryside."
Elizabeth turned to look, but when she turned back she found that Darcy had moved yet closer, and that it was impossible for her to lean back without allowing him to put his arm around her.
"Mr. Darcy, I think. . ." she began.
"Don't think," he replied, leaning even closer to her so that they were touching. "Just relax and enjoy yourself."
"And what makes you think that I am enjoying this?" she asked him, shrinking back. She tried to sound indignant, but could not quite succeed in keeping the frightened tremble out of her voice.
"Did you not get into the carriage with me?" he answered. "No lady gets into a carriage with an arrogant gentleman unless she wants to be alone with him."
"Darcy, please," she protested; then the arm that was resting behind her came around her shoulders and she was pulled into his arms.
"It's all right," he murmured, looking down at her lazily. "You don't need to ask; I know what you want."
She started to struggle in earnest, but her struggles seemed to affect him not at all. Carefully, he imprisoned her one free arm with his left hand, and with his right lifted her chin.
"Darcy, no. . .I . . ."
"Stop all this foolish chatter,” he drawled. "Your lips were meant for something far more agreeable."
She was very conscious of his strength, so much greater than hers. She was furiously angry at his manhandling of her, and his ruthless disregard for her feelings, but at the same time, there was something deep within her that held its breath as he made ready to kiss her.
She closed her eyes, knowing herself powerless to break away. For a long moment nothing happened, then suddenly he kissed her briefly on the brow and she was free. She opened her eyes to find that he was sitting once more in his original place.
"Well, Elizabeth," he said at last, "how did you like being in the hands of a rake?"
She stared at him, unable to take in his sudden change of role, and half expected him to pounce upon her again at any moment. Then when he remained in his place, she began to realize what he had been doing.
"You were frightening me on purpose!" she exclaimed. He inclined his head, his face serious. "Oh, how could you! And to think I really thought . . . believed for a moment that . . ." With an exaspera
ted little sound, she turned away from him, her eyes fixed on the scenery, her mind in a turmoil.
He left her in silence for a few moments, then said gently, "Elizabeth—I'm sorry."
She did not answer him immediately, but after a few moments, she half turned her face towards him again, and said in hurt tones, "How can you be sorry, when you frightened me quite deliberately? It was . . . unkind of you."
"Yes, I know. I wanted to put you on your guard against the kind of man who might take advantage of you."
Her anger flared up again, and she said swiftly, "How dare you patronize me?"
"Such was not my intention, believe me," he said sincerely, leaning towards her. "I have the greatest respect for your intelligence. But even the most intelligent person, outside their normal sphere of activity, can easily be wrong-footed." He paused, then, when she did not reply, he added tentatively, "I've already apologized. I'll do so again if that will help."
Her anger was beginning to give way to curiosity, and she remembered that she still knew next to nothing about his life, when he and Wickham had been childhood friends. There would never be a better time to question him. But because she was still somewhat annoyed, she said, "You were unfair to me."
"Yes, I know," he admitted.
"Did you really plan this yesterday?" she demanded. "Because if you did, I think it must be the most conniving, sly thing I've ever heard, and I don't think I shall be able to forgive you."
He was silent for a moment. “I would be less than honest if I said otherwise," he said at last. “After all, I told you what I planned to do right from the very beginning."
“Yes, I know; I didn't expect you to be so good at it.”
He smiled humorlessly. "Perhaps I should feel flattered,” he answered. He paused briefly, then went on, I want you to know that after I left you yesterday, I thought better of my decision. I came to Lilley Place this morning with the intention of taking you for a perfectly ordinary drive."
Elizabeth looked at him. "I see! So it is my fault, I suppose!" she said indignantly.
“Did I say that?" he asked her, in a tone almost as angry as her own. "Look, there is an inn a little way along from here. Let's stop there for some refreshment. I promise you I'll keep in line. And I'll tell you something of my story. Perhaps then you might understand some of my reasons for acting the way I did."
Would she trust him? She looked straight at him, and his gaze held hers steadily. Then she smiled; it was a small, slightly strained expression, but at least she did smile.
“I am a little thirsty," she admitted.
He smiled back at her and suddenly everything seemed much more normal.
The inn where they stopped was very small, but there were no other customers and the smiling landlady was very happy to serve them whilst they sat on the little bench outside.
"It wouldn't be fitting for you to sit in the tap-room,” said Darcy.
He ordered ale for himself and lemonade for Elizabeth at her request. When they were both settled with their drinks, she sitting on the bench, he standing beside it, he said, “I think that the best way to proceed will be if you ask me anything you wish to know. I promise you I'll answer truthfully unless it means betraying someone else's secrets. Will that be satisfactory for you?"
Elizabeth nodded. She took a sip of lemonade, then said, “Tell me about your friendship with Mr. Wickham."
He stiffened a little, and some of his easiness appeared to leave him. But he said good-humorously enough, “I expect you know by now that we were raised together. His father was my father's steward. Wickham wasn't exactly a well-manner child, and he got up to all kinds of larks. After his father died, my father sent him to seminary school. Wickham wasted a lot of time and money there, his own and my father's, before eventually getting himself thrown out—I forget for what. The church proving too restraining for him, he went on to London and became a man of the town, enlisting finally in the militia.”
Misunderstanding his silence, Elizabeth prompted him. “Is that all?" Still he said nothing so she went on, "Mr. Darcy, you promised me that you would answer truthfully, if you could. Are you perhaps afraid that you may compromise another person?"
"How easy it would be for me to say so," he said ruefully. “But it would not be the truth and I promised you that, did I not? What I have already told you is only half the truth, which will not do at all. I must go on, even though it may make you hate me." He took a deep breath. “Wickham started spreading vile lies about my character, saying I was unfriendly, bad-tempered, dangerous. Many young girls were strictly advised not to be alone with me.”
“I'm not surprised," said Elizabeth a little tartly.
"I suppose I deserved that." He paused. “Well, Elizabeth? Have you learned enough to satisfy you?"
"Not quite." She paused. “Mr. Wickham, drank, gambled, womanized, dueled, and lied.”
"Have you just managed to work that out?" he said mockingly, but Elizabeth got the feeling that he was mocking himself as much as he was her.
"In company with Mr. Denny?"
"Often, but not exclusively with Denny." By now they had finished their refreshment and he went on in a different tone, "Come now, it is time we returned. Are you ready?"
She nodded, and he called for the horses to be put to.
“I'll tell you anything else you want to know on the way back,” he promised.
They approached the carriage and he handed her in. It was only when she was seated beside him that she realized that she had got in with him without a trace of the apprehension that had filled her at the beginning of the outing, and this after the revelation that he had just made.
They traveled for a long time in silence, then at last Elizabeth said, "May I ask some more questions?"
He sighed. "Have you not had enough sensations for today?" he asked, with a trace of bitterness.
“I'm not seeking after sensations," she retorted indignantly. “After all, you yourself said that I might ask. I merely wanted to understand you; to know why you. . ."
"Why I still keep company with Wickham?"
She nodded.
“You must be familiar with the saying: keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
"Yes," said Elizabeth simply. "Oh look, we are coming back into Ramsgate now."
"Yes, but before this conversation is quite done, there is one more thing I must say: you accused me earlier of blaming you for my actions. Such was not my intention. I'm sorry that I frightened you, but my actions, though misguided, were driven by real concern." He paused briefly, then added, "Forgive me?"
She looked at him, and at once was reminded of his many kindnesses.
"Yes. . .yes, of course," she replied.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
With their return to the busy streets, the intimate nature of their conversation ceased and they returned to indifferent subjects. But Elizabeth, looking at his tanned, strong-looking face with its deep lines riven from nose to mouth, could not help thinking how little one could know someone and yet feel like they have known them their entire life.
CHAPTER NINE
On their arrival back at the house, Darcy did not go in, saying that he had an appointment elsewhere. She would be glad of a time of quiet reflection to go over all that she had heard and experienced that morning.
Once up in her bedroom she knocked on Lydia's door but there was no answer. Lydia was obviously still out with Miss King.
Elizabeth sat down in one of the dainty chairs set beside the fireplace in order to think. She had to admit to herself that had Lydia been there, she would have found it difficult to share either of the matters which were uppermost in her mind. Darcy had not given permission for her to speak about his affairs, so however much she might wish it, she could not confide in anyone. Even if she felt able to do so, Lydia would probably not have been her chosen confidante.
The truth was that her sister had been rather distant recently. Miss King had been taking up r
ather a lot of her time. Looking back, however, it seemed to Elizabeth that Lydia's rather distracted state dated from the reappearance of Wickham and Denny.
Given the the choice she would probably confide in someone who had proved himself to have had a wide experience of the world—Mr. Darcy. She was certain that he would be discreet. After all, he had proved to be the soul of discretion concerning his own affairs.
That brought her neatly to the second of the two situations which demanded her consideration. She went over in her mind the events that had taken place during the drive that morning: his flirting, the way that he had drawn closer to her in the carriage, and the moment when he had nearly kissed her. She found herself wondering whether he had desisted out of respect for her, or because he had not really wanted to kiss her at all. From there it was only a small step to think about whether she had been disappointed that he had not done so, but the answer to this question was far too embarrassing to be dwelt upon.
It was not many days afterwards however, that she was to discover that however discreet Wickham and Georgiana thought they were being, their romance was by no means a secret. She went to the assembly hall with her sister, Georgiana, and Mrs. Younge. Lydia appeared preoccupied yet again, until she met up with Miss King, when suddenly she gained a good deal more animation.
"I thought that Lydia did not care for that young woman,” remarked Mrs. Younge to Elizabeth.
"Yes, so did I,” Elizabeth replied. "Perhaps, away from London, she is proving to be more agreeable."
"Perhaps," agreed Mrs. Younge. Then she added in a diffident tone, "I would not for the world appear to be over-critical of your sister, my dear, but I have to say that I feel she is rather neglecting you."
Elizabeth had been feeling much the same thing, but she did not want to seem disloyal by criticizing her sister to another. Before she could either protest or agree, however, Lydia and Mary King both came up to them.
The Ramsgate Affair Page 7