A Matter of Honor Page 10

  Mrs. MacLean announced with certainty, “He will end up at Drury Lane. You may depend upon that.”

  Darcy’s blood ran cold. Jasper could not become famous or go to Drury Lane. He could not go anywhere he might be recognized or draw too much attention. Poor Jasper. The sobering thought sucked away the excitement of the moment.

  Elizabeth finally seemed to notice him. “Mr. Darcy, Mr. Fitzpatrick will be pleased to hear you came. He told me he planned to send you tickets.”

  “I am glad he did,” Darcy said carefully. “It was a most impressive performance.”

  Mrs. Ramsay said, “I hope you will tell him how very much we liked it. We cannot stay for the second play tonight, but this was a great treat.”

  “Do you wish to tell Mr. Fitzpatrick yourself?” Elizabeth asked.

  Mrs. Ramsay looked at Darcy.

  How could he answer that? “He has asked me not to visit him backstage, but I would be pleased if you would tell him how much I enjoyed his performance.”

  “But this is different,” she exclaimed. “If you wish, you may come back with me and I will ask him if he wants to see you.”

  Darcy still thought it might be something of a trespass, but Elizabeth looked so pleased by the idea he could not refuse. “I thank you.”

  Elizabeth told them to wait just inside the door to the wings. She returned a few minutes later with Jasper, who had removed his wig but still wore his surcoat.

  He ran his hand through his golden hair, leaving a few spiky locks standing on end. “You came! I am glad. I will not shake your hand, as I still have greasepaint everywhere.” Jasper’s words tumbled over each other with excitement. “I hope you liked it. Everyone says I did well, but they would say that even if I had missed every other line.”

  While Darcy was trying to formulate what to say, Mrs. Ramsay stepped forward and took both Jasper’s hands in hers, heedless of greasepaint. “My dear Mr. Fitzpatrick, you did more than well. You were magnificent. Someday I will boast to my friends that I was here tonight and that I knew you before you became famous. You did not play King Henry; you became King Henry.”

  Jasper, his mouth ajar, looked at Darcy as if uncertain he had heard aright.

  “She said it better than I could,” Darcy agreed. “Your performance was a revelation.”

  Jasper’s lips moved soundlessly before he found his voice. “Mr. Ramsay, may I kiss your wife’s cheek? That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life.” He sounded very young.

  Ramsay nodded his agreement and his wife presented her cheek, saying, “Now I will have an even better story to tell.”

  Mrs. MacLean bustled up to them. “Well done, my boy! I am proud of you.”

  Jasper beamed. “You liked it?”

  “I certainly did! What is more, so did Siddons, and he says he is switching you to King Henry for the rest of the run.”

  Seemingly speechless, Jasper clenched his hands together in front of his chest and shook them in a gesture of triumph.

  Ramsay said, “We should leave you to your other admirers. Thank you for your invitation, and congratulations on a fine performance.”

  “My thanks,” said Jasper awkwardly. Hesitantly, he added, “Darcy, may I speak to you privately for a moment?”

  “Of course.” Darcy allowed Jasper to steer him to a quiet corner behind the set.

  “You did not like it,” Jasper blurted out.

  His cousin needed even more praise? “I enjoyed it greatly. I was very impressed. I even forgot I knew you at one point.”

  Jasper set his chin. “Then why do you look as if you were eating lemons?”

  Good Lord. He supposed he did look grim. “Not because your performance was anything less than excellent.” He had said he would not treat Jasper like a child anymore, and this was his first test. “But I do feel sour, because the part of me that is your friend says you would be wasted in some rural parish when you have a talent like this. The part that is your father’s nephew is shouting treason. I imagine you are familiar with the dilemma, but it is new to me.”

  Jasper’s face relaxed into its previous good humor. “All too familiar. Do you really think I should keep acting?”

  “I am not certain I can answer that, but I can tell you the world will be poorer if you do not.” Darcy clasped his cousin’s arm. “That question can wait. Tonight you should be celebrating your grand success with your friends.”

  “I will.” Jasper grinned. “I am glad you were here.”

  HERIOT ROW WAS SOMEWHAT quieter than Hanover Street, where Hogmanay revelers were roaming the streets shouting and drinking. Here it was mostly first footers awaiting their moment. Darcy would have felt like a fool had he not been able to see other gift-laden men standing by doors up and down the street. An odd custom, certainly, but if it gave him an excuse to call on Elizabeth, he was in favor of it.

  The bells of St. Andrew’s struck midnight. He counted the tolling, hearing cheers from nearby streets. On the final stroke of twelve, he lifted the knocker and let it fall. Would Mrs. MacLean and Elizabeth be home, or would they be out enjoying the revels?

  The door opened immediately, but instead of the butler, Mrs. MacLean herself stood behind it. She clasped her hand to her heart. “Come in, come in,” she cried. “Lizzy, you must come to see our first footer! Good fortune has come to us.” She waved him in.

  “I confess I have never called on anyone at this hour before, but my Scottish hostess assured me that I would not be turned away.”

  “Of course not! Tall, dark-haired young men may visit any home in Scotland tonight.” Mrs. MacLean leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “There’s good luck for you.”

  Darcy tried to hide his startled reaction. Was this Hogmanay behavior or another case of theatricals having different rules? But then Elizabeth came into the hall and he could think of nothing but her.

  “Well, Aunt, you did ask for a tall, dark man,” Elizabeth said archly. “Happy New Year, Mr. Darcy.”

  It was the first time since he came to Scotland that Elizabeth had smiled when she saw him. Intoxication bubbled in his veins, and he had to fight the urge to take her in his arms. It was odd that he should be so desperate for her to smile at him, and then desperately want to kiss that smile away!

  He held up the basket Mrs. Ramsay had prepared to Mrs. MacLean. “I bring gifts for the New Year. Salt, coal, whisky, and fruitcake.”

  “Someone has trained you well in Scottish traditions! Do come into the drawing room for our Hogmanay refreshments,” said Mrs. MacLean.

  “Oh! I have something for you. Excuse me a moment.” Elizabeth hurried upstairs.

  Darcy followed Mrs. MacLean into the drawing room and accepted a glass of wine. He did not want anything stronger, not when he had to watch every word he said to Elizabeth.

  She returned, her eyes bright. “You seemed so interested in the bookmark I made for Mr. Fitzpatrick that I decided to make you one as well.”

  He took the little bundle of muslin she handed him. “And, perhaps, to prove your point that you can give gifts to any gentlemen you choose?”

  Her eyes danced. “Yes, that, too. Yours has no pins, though. You do not seem the sort to lose your place marker.”

  “Jasper is rather more distractible than I am.” He unwrapped the muslin slowly, giving himself time to recall that he should not let her see how significant this gift was to him. Inside the muslin was a bookmark of fine azure satin embroidered with his initials and a stylized thistle. “I thank you. It is beautifully done.”

  Elizabeth giggled. “Adequately done, perhaps. I have not troubled myself to practice embroidery as much as I should. The thistle is to remind you of your visit to Scotland.”

  As if he would need any reminders! He ran his fingertip over his initials. She had sewn those. “I will always recall Scotland with pleasure when I see this.” He cleared his throat before he said something he would regret. “I brought something for you as well, though hardly of the
same caliber or value.” He reached inside his coat for the newspaper clipping he had brought. “I thought you might like this as a keepsake.” He proffered it to her.

  “What is it?” she asked hesitantly.

  “My host likes to read the London newspapers, even though they are a week old by the time they arrive. Take it.”

  She unfolded the clipping and glanced up at him with a puzzled look. Her eyes moved down the column of announcements. “Oh! Oh, my goodness! Oh, my!” She grabbed his arm. “Is this true? Please tell me this is true!”

  “It is printed in the newspaper, so it must be true.” Darcy drank in her pleasure, but why had she not already known this?

  “Oh!” She bounced up and down on her toes as if she could not contain her joy.

  “What is it, my dear?” asked Mrs. MacLean.

  “It is Jane. My sister Jane. She is married to Mr. Bingley! He is the one I told you about, the one she was pining for. Oh, Jane!” She pressed the clipping against her heart. “Thank you. Thank you. This is the best gift I will ever receive.”

  “How unfortunate,” teased Mrs. MacLean. “What shall we strive for when you have already received the best? Diamonds and rubies would be a disappointment.”

  Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed and re-opened them to check the clipping again, as if the words might have changed. Her lips trembled. “Jane,” she whispered. Her face crumpled and she ran from the room.

  Darcy took a step after her. He did not know why she was upset, but he wanted to comfort her.

  “Let her go,” said Mrs. MacLean. “She needs some time to herself.”

  He looked after Elizabeth helplessly. “I apologize. I assumed she already knew. She told me her father was a poor correspondent, but I thought even he would pick up a pen for news such as this.” He was a fool. Had he not learned his lesson about disparaging Elizabeth’s family? “Pardon me; I should not criticize your brother.”

  “You may speak freely. You are not the only one disappointed in him. He has not sent one word since Lizzy arrived here. Not one damned word, if you will forgive my language.”

  “Your language shocks me far less than his behavior.” Darcy wanted to saddle his horse, ride straight to Longbourn, and shake Mr. Bennet until his teeth rattled.

  “Well, Thomas has always been bitter about my choices, and doubtless he does not like to see his daughter choosing to live with me. He should know it was only because she had no better option. She had never been permitted to write to me, so one could hardly see it as her preferring me over him. Any harbor in a storm is a better description.” She shook her head. “Poor girl. It is cruel that he does not allow her sisters to write.”

  “You know I am the reason she had to leave.” He felt compelled to confess it.

  “She has told me. She also said you had done nothing wrong.”

  “Neither did she. I do not understand why she accepted blame for it, or why she did not come to me for redress. God above, how I wish she had told me!” He did not even care that he was exposing himself.

  “So that is how it is. I have wondered.”

  The front door slammed. Jasper appeared in the entrance to the drawing room followed by two other actors. “Happy New Year!” he proclaimed, his words slurring. “Darcy, what are you doing here?”

  “He was our first footer,” said Mrs. MacLean indulgently. “I am surprised to see you home so early. The celebrations will go on until dawn.”

  “This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen, as the bard said,” said Jasper’s friend Sampson. “We need to warm up so we can go back out.”

  The newcomers helped themselves to food and drink, talking primarily to Mrs. MacLean, but Jasper kept glancing at Darcy in a worried manner as if he expected a scolding.

  ONCE ELIZABETH MANAGED to regain her composure, she returned downstairs. Jasper and some of the other actors had returned and were making merry. She sat next to Darcy and whispered, “Completely foxed, if I am not mistaken.”

  “They have been making the most of Hogmanay, I believe,” said Darcy.

  “Is this your first Hogmanay?” she asked.

  “This is my first visit to Scotland, so yes, it is. An interesting holiday.”

  Elizabeth rubbed her fingers over the cuff of her long sleeve. “I do not believe I ever asked you what brought you to Edinburgh. Was it to visit your friends?”

  Darcy seemed to weigh his words carefully. “I was looking for you.” The words seemed to reverberate.

  Elizabeth stared at him, her stomach flip-flopping. “For me?”

  “Yes. I thought you would have guessed that.”

  She floundered for words. “I had not expected you to do so. How did you find out I was here? My father is the only one who knows, and he would not have told you.”

  “He did refuse to tell me, despite my best efforts. I had to hunt for hints of where you might have gone. Finally I thought to ask your friend Mrs. Collins, who was kind enough to take pity on me.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “But how did she know?”

  “Your eldest sister mentioned something in a letter that made her think you were with your aunt, and she told me what little she knew of her, which was that she lived in Edinburgh and was well-to-do. It was little enough to go on, but here I am. As it turned out, I only stumbled across you by accident.”

  Of course. She could imagine her father relieving Jane’s worry by saying she was with her aunt in Scotland, and Jane, not understanding why it had to be a secret, mentioning it to Charlotte. That part of the explanation was simple enough. Darcy’s decision to devote months of his life to finding her was much more complicated.

  She could not look at him. She had assumed that after her refusal Darcy would have tried to forget about her. After all, it was one thing for him to develop a sudden passion for her and propose to her impulsively. It was a different matter to work to discover her whereabouts, travel the length of Britain in winter, and seek her out. Even when she denied knowing him, he had persisted. This was not a passing fancy. But it was even more impossible now than it had been that evening in Hunsford. A lump formed in her throat.

  She had to say something. “I confess I deliberately made it difficult to find me. I am impressed with your persistence, especially when it comes to visiting Edinburgh in winter.”

  “Are you warm enough yet, Fitzpatrick?” asked one of the other actors. “The city awaits! Once more into the breach!”

  “Darcy, you should come with us,” said Jasper. “It is your only chance to experience Hogmanay. And it is far too late for you to be alone with the ladies.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Even theatricals must have some rules, I suppose.”

  “We are not completely lawless,” said Elizabeth with mock gravity. “Perhaps we can continue this conversation in daylight.” When she might be able to think more clearly.

  “It would be my very great honor.” His voice was quiet and intense.

  She accompanied the gentlemen to the door and offered her hand to Darcy. His fingers closed on hers, the warm contact suddenly intimate, the sensation rebounding through her body even before his lips, unexpectedly soft, caressed the back of her fingers. She caught her breath as her entire arm seemed to come to a new, aching life.

  Darcy gazed up at her without releasing her hand, his dark eyes seeming to ask a question, one whose answer she did not know. She froze as he turned her hand and brushed his lips lightly against the inside of her wrist. “Until we meet again, Miss Elizabeth.” His voice was slightly hoarse as he released her fingers and left the house.

  Elizabeth could still feel the pressure of his hand, and the inside of her wrist burned as if he had branded it. Liquid heat poured from that spot to her deepest, most private places. She was not a stranger to desire, but this was different from the pleasant sensations she felt when a handsome gentleman had flirted with her or kissed her hand. This was something distinct, more untamed, and seemingly unstoppable.

  Aunt Emmeline’s a
mused voice came from behind her. “You may be puzzled as to what that young man wants from you, but it is clear as day to me. He is unwilling to offer marriage, I assume?”

  Elizabeth did not turn around. “He offered me marriage. There are other obstacles which cannot be overcome.”

  “What sort of obstacles?”

  She touched the back of her fingers where his lips had pressed. “His family is strongly opposed to the match.”

  “Surely if he is willing to ignore his family’s views, you need not worry about them either.”

  Elizabeth turned slowly to face her aunt. “He is not the one they are threatening,” she said flatly. “I am exhausted. Pray excuse me while I retire for what little is left of the night.”

  She was already in bed when she realized she had not told her aunt that she did not like Mr. Darcy.

  AUNT EMMELINE DID NOT come downstairs the following day until well after noon. “I am not as young as I once was,” she told Elizabeth with a sweeping gesture. “I can no longer stay up half the night for Hogmanay and arise at the crack of dawn.”

  “You never arise at the crack of dawn,” said Elizabeth lightly.

  “It is true. Such is the life of an actress! But you look as if you might have benefited from staying in bed a little longer, my dear.”

  Elizabeth gave up her weak attempt at good humor. “I did not sleep well. I have been considering the situation with Mr. Darcy, and I think it would be wise for me to leave Edinburgh until such time as he returns to England.”

  “Leave? He will just follow you again.”

  “When I came here, I told my father I wanted no one else to know where I was going. Last night I learned that he had told my oldest sister, who in turn had told my friend Charlotte, who is married to the man who made me agree to stay away from Mr. Darcy. If he discovers I have seen Mr. Darcy, my family will suffer greatly for it. When I thought Mr. Collins did not know I was here, I did not worry, but if he knows where I am, he might discover our meetings. If I want my family to be safe, I must disappear.”