Fitzwilliam Darcy, Traitor

by Jennifer Joy

  Miss Bennet leaned against Elizabeth. She must be dreadfully tired.

  “Are you well, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked.

  “I am happier than I have ever been. Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

  Few women in society were as gracious as Miss Bennet. He was happy for Bingley. “How is Bingley?” he asked, desirous of seeing his friend if he was to be denied Elizabeth’s kisses.

  Miss Bennet replied, “The doctor expects him to recover fully given sufficient rest. He will be happy to see you on the morrow.”

  Darcy appreciated how firmly she rebutted his thoughts of speaking with Bingley before he could even suggest it. She was perfect for him. Miss Bingley was in for a surprise if she thought she could trample over the gentle lady. There was far more to Miss Bennet than what met the eye.

  Bingley’s family. Where were they? Darcy asked, “Have the Hursts or Miss Bingley called? Do they know what their brother has suffered?”

  He felt Georgiana stiffen at his side.

  Aunt Helen snapped, “If they dare show their faces here, I mean to send them away.” Softening her tone, she addressed Miss Bennet, “Mr. Bingley is welcome to stay in our home for as long as he needs to recover. As are you and Miss Elizabeth … so long as your uncle and aunt Gardiner are willing to share your company. I would not go against their wishes.”

  “Yes, you would,” Darcy mumbled under his breath.

  He had not intended for his aunt to hear him.

  She said, “If you have something to say, Darcy, speak up. Do not mumble when you know my hearing is perfectly sound. I am not your aunt Catherine.”

  Georgiana looked up at him in shock while Elizabeth bit her lips together. There was nothing she could do to hide the dimple in her cheek.

  Richard had been right. Aunt Helen and Elizabeth would get along swimmingly. Darcy responded to his aunt as he would to Elizabeth, saying, “As you wish, Aunt. What I meant to say was that you always get your way. If you wish for your company to stay, you will ensure they do.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Just as I will keep Mr. Bingley’s venomous sisters away from him until he is strong enough to decide what to do with them.” She wrapped an arm protectively around Miss Bennet.

  Aunt Helen explained, “I sent for Bates as soon as your uncle arrived with Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet. You are to stay here, Darcy, until you are rested. I will not allow for you to be alone in that big, empty house when Bates has already ensured you will be comfortable in the guest room.”

  Heavens, she loved to order everyone’s affairs. Darcy knew from whom Richard had inherited his overbearing demeanor.

  “Yes, Aunt,” Darcy said like a good boy just to confuse her. He never gave into her wishes without a fight.

  Elizabeth sucked in her cheeks, her eyes dancing.

  Darcy struggled not to roar when his aunt stammered, “You must … oh … er … how sensible of you, Darcy.” She recovered herself brilliantly after that, continuing, “Bates told us everything. Their departure from Netherfield Park was delayed further when Mrs. Hurst fell violently ill and was unfit to travel. Apparently, she did not know when to stop drinking claret the night before they were to depart after the storm had cleared. By the time they were able to return to London, Bingley and Miss Bennet had been sent away from the very inn where his sisters stopped to refresh themselves. The innkeeper — on noticing the family resemblance between the brother and his sisters and thinking he was helpful — informed them of their brother’s arrest. He showed them what news he had of Darcy in the newspapers. And what do you suppose the cowards did?”

  Whatever they had done, they had made themselves mortal enemies of his aunt. She was not one to be trifled with.

  “They were horrible, William,” Georgiana whispered.

  Aunt Helen said, “They renounced all connection to you and disowned Mr. Bingley entirely. They left him in prison, casting their loyalty with fickle society instead of their own flesh and blood. I fully expect them to come groveling to poor Mr. Bingley’s side as soon as public opinion changes.”

  Miss Bennet said, “Let us waste no more breath on them. What is done is done, and they will live with the consequences of their choice. The events of this past week have only made me more determined to enjoy those we hold dear. Tonight, we are safe and happy. And I suspect we will continue to be, will we not?” She raised her eyebrow and looked at Darcy.

  Darcy assured her, “It is my aim to see Elizabeth happy every day for the rest of our lives.”

  Miss Bennet smiled widely, her eyes brimming with joy. “I am delighted to hear it, Mr. Darcy.” She pulled her sister closer to her, whispering something in her ear that made both of them blush.

  Aunt Helen nodded her approval. “You have no need for me anymore, Darcy,” she said, turning toward the stairs.

  A strong emotion possessed Darcy, and he caught his aunt’s hand before she was out of reach. To his astonishment, he pulled her into an embrace.

  Any embarrassment Darcy felt at his impulsiveness was abated when Aunt Helen kissed him on the cheek and returned his embrace.

  He tightened his arms around her, saying, “If I have learned anything, it is that we need the people we love around us. I realize now how difficult it must have been for you to send me away, but now I know that you were merely doing what you felt was best for Georgiana … and for me.”

  Aunt Helen stepped away, grabbing Elizabeth’s hand and pulling her closer, exclaiming, “Who is this man? I credit you with this change in Darcy’s character.”

  Elizabeth beamed up at him. “He is the same man he always was. William has always been the best of men. He only needed a week’s worth of improprieties to soften his views of his own and others’ limitations.”

  Georgiana gasped. “My brother, improper?”

  Elizabeth grinned impishly. “It is a long, romantic, adventurous, wonderful story.”

  Darcy was not surprised Elizabeth already saw the best of what they had experienced together. While it did have its moments — certain ones he wished to repeat that second — he was relieved it was done. Given a day or two, he had every confidence Elizabeth would convince him to view things as she did.

  Georgiana looked at him expectantly. Dear Lord, she did not expect him to tell her the story right then, did she? He cleared his throat. “A story we will tell you … eventually.”

  She shoved him in the arm. “You will leave out the best parts.” Georgiana looked confidently at Elizabeth. “I will have to trust Miss Elizabeth to tell me what you leave out.”

  Elizabeth took her hand. “I look forward to it.” There was a twinkle in her eye that made Darcy toss and turn all night until he succumbed to exhaustion. And it was the first thing he saw in his mind’s eye when he awoke the next morning to the sound of Georgiana practicing the pianoforte.

  Chapter 39

  They stayed a month in London. What had taken a glance at a newspaper to ruin would take years to repair. But William had gained some true friends in the process.

  True to his word, Mr. Stoddart published his article in The Times, complete with eyewitness reports and facts as confirmed by the investigators and magistrates involved.

  Correspondence between Longbourn and London flowed. Papa had seen the article, as Elizabeth had known he would. She had sent him a more thorough account than what was in the paper, including enough details to ensure Mama would have the most sensational gossip to share with Aunt Philips that week.

  The Prince Regent was quick to reply and equally quick to shift the blame to the true mastermind of his friend's death. Everything Wickham had worked so hard to cast on William blew up in his face like a misfiring pistol. William’s hidden stashes of coins had trapped Wickham after all. There was poetic justice in that, thought Elizabeth.

  The other newspapers were excessive in their praise of William, naming him a hero with all the enthusiasm with which they had previously called him a traitor. William laughed at them. He could have taken the lot of them to co
urt for libel, but after weeks of their preening and fawning, he was ready to leave town and all the attention he despised.

  He did, however, use his influence to grant his soon-to-be mother-in-law the greatest gift she could have imagined. After obtaining permission from Elizabeth’s father to marry her, William had their betrothal printed in every single London paper. Elizabeth gathered copies to give to Mama, who would brag until the papers yellowed and crumbled with age.

  Mr. Bingley had already sent Mrs. Holton and her family to Netherfield Park to prepare the estate for his arrival. He was eager to return home. Or, rather, he was eager to marry Jane. His will was much stronger than his body, and Mr. Bingley’s determination to return to his home and wed his bride was no match for his illness.

  Elizabeth would never separate Georgiana from her brother after they had so recently repaired their relationship, and so it was agreed that Georgiana would join them on their return to Hertfordshire.

  Their party unanimously agreed to use Mr. Bingley’s carriage instead of another of William’s.

  Not one of them wished stop at the village where they had been imprisoned, though Elizabeth did look with interest at Mr. Jolly’s inn. He had been justly compensated for his kindness and assistance. One day, they would rest there and enjoy a meal. But not today.

  Soon, they approached the open space on the road where they had sought refuge in the snowstorm. Elizabeth pressed her fingertips against the cold glass. There it was. The break in the hedge and the path leading to the cottage. Their cottage.

  “It happened here?” Georgiana asked, her quiet voice loud in the silence.

  Elizabeth was surprised when only pleasant replies came to mind. Choosing one, she said, “We might have lost our possessions, but we gained so much more.”

  She pulled the blanket covering her legs up, the heated brick at her feet warming Elizabeth from the bottom up. Lady Helen had sent a hamper with provisions — but, unlike the hamper Mama had sent, its modest size fitted easily between William and Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth could smell the strawberry tarts.

  William pulled out a leather pouch, and the sight of the familiar accessory made Elizabeth laugh. He handed it to her, saying, “We shall remember the past only as it brings us pleasure. Open it.”

  Intrigued, she loosened the strings and peeked inside. Elizabeth gasped, “This is not glass.”

  William grinned at her devilishly. “No, it is not.”

  Reaching in, she pulled out a delicate, gold chain with intricate filigree halfway up the sides. In the center was a sparkling sapphire in the shape of a droplet. Two gold tags dangled at the clasp.

  “The Queen’s teardrop,” Elizabeth whispered through her tight throat.

  “Is the Queen happy?” William asked.

  “I have always believed her to be.” It was a silly question when he knew the story.

  “Look at the tags,” he said.

  The gold was engraved in clear, tiny lettering. The first read: To my Queen. The other read: From her Darcy.

  Elizabeth sat smiling for a good while, unable to do anything else. Tears of joy prickled her eyes.

  Jane helped her clasp it around her neck, and Elizabeth immediately ran the sapphire drop up and down the chain, reveling in the familiarity of the jewel against her skin. William could tempt her with diamonds and tiaras, but this was the necklace she would proudly wear every day. “It is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received. Thank you so much, William.”

  He looked mischievous as he rubbed his shaved chin. “Hmm, then my next gift is doomed to fail.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “There is more? I am so full of every good emotion, I fear I shall burst.”

  William pulled out a package wrapped in paper and handed it to her.

  She knew what it was before she opened it. Elizabeth’s fingers tingled to thumb over the pages.

  William smiled at her. “I should very much like to hear you read the rest of the story. I am told it has a happy ending.”

  Elizabeth cradled the novel, her thumb rubbing over the binding. “You remembered.” For Georgiana’s benefit, she added, “I had to leave Belinda behind when I helped William escape from prison.”

  In a serious tone, William said, “I am honored you chose me over the book.”

  They all laughed.

  “I would do it again in a second,” Elizabeth admitted.

  Mr. Bingley exclaimed, “I would not! I never want feel cold or fall ill again, nor do I intend to set foot inside Newgate or any other dark and dreary place for that matter.”

  Georgiana had the good sense to point out, “But you are engaged to Jane now. Surely, you would not change that.”

  Bingley smiled at his betrothed. “Nothing would stop me from marrying my angel. Not only did Jane save my life, but she has spared us from suffering the company of my overbearing sisters.”

  Jane caught Elizabeth’s eye, and they shook their heads. Elizabeth said, “Do not count your blessings too quickly, Mr. Bingley. Jane might have spared you from your sisters, but you shall have to endure the three more of ours now.”

  Elizabeth reached up to her collarbone, the shape of the sapphire comforting between her fingers. William had given her so much. He had even arranged of his own accord to stop at Longbourn, so they might marry in her parish with her family present. He knew how dearly Elizabeth loved them and how much she wanted them to witness the greatest day her of her life — the day she would become Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  She could not wait to give William his gift — the best part of it, anyway. The copper bathtub and a crate of lavender soap would be waiting in William’s dressing room at Pemberley thanks to Bates’ cooperation with her uncle in arranging it. But Elizabeth’s greatest gift, her more meaningful one, would have to wait. Elizabeth hated waiting.

  Anticipation made her impatient, and the carriage could not convey them fast enough to Longbourn.

  They were received with great emotion from her family — tears of ecstasy from their mother and tears of jealousy from Lydia, who had always thought she ought to be the first Bennet sister to marry.

  Mama had prepared a banquet to celebrate her good fortune. Her words of greeting were, “Two daughters to marry! Two gentlemen with fortunes and estates! Lady Lucas can have Mr. Collins.”

  Mr. Collins’ ardor had cooled sooner than he had recovered from his cold. Not a fortnight after Elizabeth had left for London, he had proposed to Charlotte Lucas. She had accepted. One cannot always account for taste.

  Mr. Bingley nearly choked on his ham when Mama exclaimed during the meal, “Oh, how fortunate I arranged for you to travel together, or none of this would have happened!”

  Elizabeth appreciated William’s restraint. He sipped on his wine, but his grip on the glass showed the extent of his struggle to contain himself. It was nearly time for his first gift.

  Her father commented, “Yes, my dear, you have an uncanny ability to alter the weather for our daughters’ advantage. I hardly think you wish to take credit for anything more than that.”

  Mama was impervious to his wry humor as was usual. Refilling her glass, she beamed, “You are welcome to stay here, of course, Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy. I daresay three weeks at Longbourn is hardly sufficient when we would gladly welcome you for an extended stay. I can imagine Lady Lucas’ face when the banns are read for not only one, but two of my daughters.”

  The time had arrived. Setting down her fork, Elizabeth said, “I had something else in mind. I should very much like to marry on the morrow and depart immediately for Pemberley.” She watched William closely, adding with a grin because she was certain of his response, “If it is agreeable to Mr. Darcy, of course.”

  Her mother was not immediately convinced, but when Mary pointed out the extravagance of purchasing a common license, she immediately cheered.

  William polished the contents of his plate in record time, and his abruptness in excusing himself from the table was easily forgiven. He was on his way to the rector�
��s home to make arrangements for the ceremony on the morrow.

  “Mr. Bennet, you must accompany Mr. Darcy,” insisted Mama, who would not allow for anything to delay the wedding.

  When the arrangements had been made, and William had returned with her father, Elizabeth suggested a turn in the garden.

  Her mother knew better than to send any of Elizabeth’s sisters out of doors with her. The wink she gave Elizabeth guaranteed a few minutes of privacy with William.

  He chuckled as they strolled away from the house. “I always believed your mother’s lenience was a weakness she needed to address, but I am grateful for it right now.”

  Elizabeth led him to a bench covered in wisteria branches. The thick vines were bare, but they offered enough coverage.

  Pulling William down to sit beside her, Elizabeth said, “I once believed your tendency to always be right fueled your pride and hardened your sensibility, but now I know the truth.”

  William smiled. “And what is that?”

  “That you really are very clever,” she teased.

  He leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers. “I am the happiest man in the world because I get to marry you on the morrow.”

  She sighed. “That, sir, is an excellent answer.”

  William closed his eyes, his finger winding around a tendril of her hair, and said, “I do not need to be right anymore. I only need to be with you.”

  The whisper of his breath tickled her lips, and Elizabeth kissed Mr. Darcy thoroughly.

  Epilogue

  Pemberley

  One month later

  Darcy carried a tray with a fresh pot of tea, careful not to rattle the two cups and saucers as he progressed down the hall. The strawberry tarts, his wife’s favorite, smelled divine. She would be pleased.

  He had not seen Elizabeth since returning from his ride over the property with his steward, but Darcy knew where to find her.