Mr. Darcy's Letter Page 2

  Darcy glared at him. “Did you see her?”

  “No, she still hadn’t returned.”

  “Damn,” Darcy muttered.

  “Ah hah! Were you planning to steal off to see her alone?”

  “Hardly.” Since Richard showed no signs of leaving, Darcy poured himself a glass of port and swallowed half of it, disregarding the burning sensation in his throat. “I thought she might have spoken to you, that’s all.”

  Richard raised an eyebrow. “About anything in particular? And slow down on that bottle, or you won’t be able to manage your greys.”

  “I told her about Georgiana and Wickham, and said that if she did not believe me, you could confirm it for her.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam rose halfway, slapping his hands on the armrest of the chair. “Good God, man, what were you thinking? We agreed to tell no one, no one, about Georgiana and Wickham. One word in the wrong place could ruin her!”

  Darcy’s lips were in a tight line. “Miss Bennet’s discretion can be trusted, and she needs to know that Wickham cannot be trusted.”

  “So tell her he isn’t to be trusted. You didn’t have to mention Georgiana. What could possibly be so important that she would need to know?”

  “It was the only way she would believe me about him.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

  “Then she is a fool, and so are you, for entrusting that secret to anyone. Miss Bennet is a pretty young thing, and it’s damned obvious that you have a tendre for her, but that doesn’t change the fact that she has no reason to keep secrets for us, and every reason to gossip.”

  “She will not gossip.”

  “Darcy, you are the last man I would expect to be taken in by a charming manner and a pretty face!”

  Darcy clenched his fists by his side. “If there is anything in the world I do not doubt, it is that Elizabeth is honest and honourable.”

  “She does not even like you!”

  Darcy paled even further. “I know that.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam threw his hands up in the air. “I know better than to try to reason with you in this frame of mind. Do what you will, then.”

  “I have already done it. She is likely reading a letter from me as we speak.”

  “You put it in writing?” His cousin’s tone was scathing.

  “I am sorry you disapprove,” Darcy said icily. “I intend to leave now. You can come now and ride with me, or make your own way back to Town. It makes no difference to me.” He stalked out of the room, down the wide marble staircase, and out the front door, avoiding even the requisite farewell to his aunt and cousin.

  He was relieved to find his curricle ready for him beyond the oversized portico of Rosings, a groom holding the horses’ bridles as they stamped and whinnied. They had lacked for exercise these last few days, and it showed. Darcy was almost grateful that the greys were so restive. Keeping them under control would require all his attention.

  At the last moment, Colonel Fitzwilliam scrambled in beside him. Without looking at him, Darcy gathered the ribbons in his hand. The greys took little encouragement to set a brisk pace away from the house. Once they reached the London road, Darcy sprang the horses, sending them charging along at a breakneck pace as if speed would allow him to outrun his bleak thoughts. He did not rein them in until beads of sweat coated their backs.

  As they slowed to a walk, the colonel heaved a dramatic sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you still sulking?”

  Darcy did not bother to look at him. “No.”

  “Then what’s the matter? I haven’t seen you in a mood like this since…well, since Ramsgate. What happened?”

  “Nothing.” A vision of Elizabeth, her eyes sparkling with laughter, rose before him. He would never be in her company again, never enjoy her smile, never watch her tilt her head with that grace peculiar to her, never catch her feminine scent of lavender, never see her light up the room with her presence. Never.

  “Darcy, you are the worst liar I know. Last night you were almost glowing with excitement, then today you are nothing but thunderclouds. What happened?”

  Darcy scowled. He knew from experience that Richard would not leave him alone until he answered.

  “Elizabeth Bennet happened.” The only woman he had ever wanted to call his own.

  Richard’s mouth pursed in a silent whistle. “You really are infatuated with her, aren’t you?”

  “No, I am not infatuated.” Infatuation would not cause him to lose sleep for months, nor create an ache deep within himself that would never be filled. “I offered her my hand. She refused.”

  “You did what?” Richard shook his head in disbelief. “And she refused? I don’t believe it. She has more sense than that.”

  “She finds me arrogant, conceited, and selfish.” Darcy could not keep the bitterness from his voice, but it was a relief to say the words.

  “Hmm. I’m sorry.”

  “You could at least disagree!”

  “Darcy, you don’t need me to tell you your virtues. But I can see how, to the eye of a stranger, you might appear arrogant and conceited. Miss Bennet in particular – I know you were merely tongue-tied in her presence, but it must have seemed as if you wouldn’t deign to talk to her.”

  Darcy turned wounded eyes on his cousin, then stared silently at the road ahead. “I suppose you think I should have pestered her with pointless compliments and bad poems.” One of the greys tossed his head angrily.

  “No, you aren’t suited to play the role of the swain,” Richard agreed, his tone more sympathetic. “You behaved exactly as I would have expected you to. I know it speaks to the depth of your feelings, but Miss Bennet does not know you as I do. Oh, for God’s sake, Darcy, loosen your grip before those poor horses bolt.

  Or better yet, give me the ribbons.”

  Darcy looked down at his hands in surprise. Richard was right; the ribbons were taut, and his hand ached where he held them. Numbly he let his fingers fall away and passed the ribbons to his cousin.

  Richard gave a soft whistle as he shook the ribbons lightly. “This must be serious. You’re actually allowing me to drive your precious greys.”

  Darcy slumped back against the high seat. “Be quiet, Richard.”

  His cousin raised an eyebrow but turned his attention to the driving, unabashedly taking advantage of the opportunity to put the horses through their paces.

  After a few minutes, Darcy said abruptly, “She is half in love with Wickham, you know.”

  “I should have run him through when I had the chance,” Richard muttered under his breath.

  “That is why I had to tell her about Georgiana.”

  “I hope she believes you, then. I’d hate to think of a lovely girl like Miss Bennet falling into Wickham’s clutches.”

  Darcy squeezed his eyes shut, but nothing could hide the wrenching picture of Elizabeth in George Wickham’s arms. “I could not let that happen to her.”

  “No, of course not,” Richard said with unusual gentleness. “She’ll be safe from him, I’m sure of it. She is an intelligent and spirited young lady, and you have warned her.”

  “I’ll kill him myself if he touches her,” Darcy grumbled.

  “Why don’t you come out with me tonight?” Richard tacitly ignored his threat. “I am meeting friends at Lady Rendall’s soiree, and the entertainment there is always good.”

  “Thank you for the effort, but I am not a suitable frame of mind.”

  “I know that, but it’ll do you no good to sit at home and brood. You need to meet other women.”

  Darcy rubbed his gloved hands over his face. “True enough, but not yet.” There wasn’t a woman alive who could take his mind off Elizabeth Bennet.

  “Soon, though,” said Richard. “And in the meantime, you know where to find me.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Elizabeth could hardly contain her impatience with the slow pace her sisters set. The day was sunny and warm, one of the rare fine days of early summer in Hertfordshire, and
new growth showed in every field they passed, but Elizabeth barely noticed it, her mind fixed on the news Lydia had given her. Mary King had broken her engagement to Mr. Wickham, and he was free once more. Elizabeth chewed her lip. Would he resume his old admiration of her, or had some other pretty face already caught his eye? She hoped not. Even if she could have no future with him, she did not want to miss the opportunity to spend time in his company. And, of course, she had a great deal she could tell him if she so chose!

  She did not have long to wait for her answer. No sooner had they reached the outskirts of Meryton than Elizabeth spotted Mr. Wickham’s handsome form among a group of officers. Her cheeks grew warm when he excused himself to them and came directly to her side. So he had not forgotten her either!

  With an amiable smile, he said, “Miss Elizabeth, it is a delight to see you in Meryton once more. We have missed your charming company.”

  She raised an eyebrow. For most of that time, he had been engaged to another woman, after all, and she would not allow him to forget that. “It was only a matter of weeks, and I am certain you have found something or other to occupy your time. Training, perhaps?”

  He laughed without a trace of embarrassment. “That still leaves many hours a day to feel the absence of a lovely lady.”

  Lydia cast Elizabeth a grumpy look. “We have been quite well amused without you, Lizzy. Why, you missed at least three private parties and an assembly! Lord, I do not know how you bore it. I am sure Charlotte was pleased to see you, but how dull for you! Stuck in Kent with nothing to do but listen to silly sermons, not an officer to be found!”

  “On occasion we managed to find ever so slight amusements to take our minds off our tedious days,”

  Elizabeth said with a sidelong glance at Mr. Wickham. “But tell me, Mr. Wickham, have there been many changes to the regiment since I left?”

  He inclined slightly toward her with a warm look. “Very few; one or two new officers, that is all. There will be more change, I fancy, when we move to Brighton.”

  “Oh, do not mention Brighton to me!” Lydia cried. “If only I could go, too! Meryton will be so dull without the regiment. I swear I will perish from boredom.”

  Wickham said, “You should speak to Mrs. Foster, Miss Lydia. You are her special friend; perhaps she might invite you to accompany her to Brighton. I could put in a good word for Miss Elizabeth as well.”

  Wickham bowed in her direction.

  Lydia squealed. “You are brilliant, Mr. Wickham! Would that not be wonderful, Lizzy?”

  Elizabeth hesitated, flattered by his suggestion. Brighton would no doubt be entertaining, but she could not see herself travelling there for no better reason than to follow the officers. It could give Wickham the wrong idea about her. “I beg you not to trouble yourself on my behalf, Mr. Wickham. I have no particular inclination toward Brighton. I have only just returned home, after all.”

  If her refusal made him unhappy, he gave no sign of it. “Then I must make the most of the time I have with you now. Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the honour of walking with me?” He held out his arm to her.

  She laid her hand on the heavy red wool of his coat. It was easy to slip into their old intimacy and to enjoy his undemanding company once more, even if he had no particular intentions toward her. It was enough to know that he admired her. He asked her briefly about her health and whether her journey had been a smooth one, but they were barely out of sight of the others when Mr. Wickham began to engage her on the old subject of his grievances against Mr. Darcy. She indulged him as long as she was able, hugging her secret to herself.

  Eventually Mr. Wickham asked directly, “Miss Elizabeth, did you have the opportunity to see Rosings Park when you were in Kent? I travelled there once in the company of old Mr. Darcy, and I remember it well.”

  “Yes, I had the honour to dine with there on several occasions.”

  Wickham cocked his head to the side. “Indeed? I would have thought Lady Catherine to be above dinner parties with her parson’s family.”

  “I would hesitate to call them parties,” Elizabeth said. “Merely an invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Collins to join her at a family dinner. There was no ceremony, I assure you.”

  “What did you think of Miss DeBourgh? Is her health at all improved?”

  “Not having known her in the past, I have nothing to compare it to, but she seemed well enough, if easily tired. We did not converse much.”

  “I can imagine! She is proud, like the rest of her family. She will make a fitting bride for Darcy, do you not think so?”

  Elizabeth suppressed a laugh at this. How little he knew, and how surprised he would be if he did! “I cannot say, though I saw no particular signs of affection between Miss DeBourgh and Mr. Darcy, who was also visiting Rosings along with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Are you acquainted with the colonel as well?” She gave him a sly look to see how he bore the news.

  He looked surprised and displeased; but with a moment's recollection and a returning smile, replied that he had formerly seen him often; and after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man, asked her how she had liked him.

  “I liked him quite well. He is an amiable gentleman whose only fault is to have a most unpleasant cousin.”

  Wickham’s smile looked forced. “Unpleasant indeed! Did Darcy stay at Rosings long?”

  “Nearly three weeks.”

  “I hope you did not have to tolerate his company overmuch.” He drew her slightly closer to him.

  “I saw him almost every day, but he did not often trouble himself to speak. Colonel Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, was very pleasant company.”

  “His manners are very different from Darcy’s.”

  “Yes, very different indeed. It is difficult to believe they are from the same family, although I must admit that I could see a definite resemblance between Mr. Darcy and his aunt, Lady Catherine DeBourgh.” Elizabeth looked up at him archly.

  Wickham laughed with his old ease of manner. “It is true. Both are proud and care nothing for the sensibilities they might injure, nor for anything beyond their family name. Mr. Darcy has always sought to please Lady Catherine; he stands much in awe of her good opinion and judgment. His fear of her has always operated when they were together. A good deal is to be imputed to his wish of forwarding the match with Miss DeBourgh, which I am certain he has very much at heart.”

  “He might yet surprise you. His interests seemed to lie in a different quarter.”

  Wickham seemed surprisingly intrigued by this intelligence. “Indeed? And who might the lucky lady be?”

  “That I cannot tell you.” She found herself unable to speak of Darcy’s proposal. No matter how much she disliked the man, he had done nothing to deserve the humiliation of having his rejection broadcast to the world.

  “It makes no difference, since nothing will come of it.” She shivered a bit with distaste.

  His face was suddenly sober. “Was there some unpleasantness while you were in Kent? I know he admires you – I could see it in the way he looked at you, the first time we met, but it never occurred to me that…. But now you worry me. He is not accustomed to being denied anything he wants. By God, if he has harmed you in any way, I will kill him.”

  “No,” she hastened to assure him, “it was nothing like that. Nothing at all. I simply did not care for his manners.” Even to her own ears, it sounded forced.

  Wickham’s expression grew severe. “Your silence speaks volumes,” he said slowly. “I had not thought him capable of it. You are a gentleman’s daughter. Can his pride have grown so overweening that he believes everything is within his reach? It must have. He knows you have no brother to defend your honour.”

  Now truly alarmed, Elizabeth said, “Indeed, there is no cause for anything of the sort. Certainly he is proud and unpleasant, and he does not feel any rules apply to him, but his behaviour towards me was by no means disgraceful, only ill-conceived.”

  “Was it?” He steered her off the road,
away from other ears and took her hands in his, his hazel eyes looking deep into hers. “It is beyond impertinent for me to ask, but you must tell me, what did he do? I fear he has harmed you, and I will not be able to rest until I know. You know I will never breathe a word to a soul.”

  Elizabeth flushed. “It is not so shocking as you seem to suspect. He wrote me a letter, that is all. I do not know what his intentions were, and they may have been quite innocent. Perhaps he merely thought that the proprieties governing correspondence between an unmarried gentleman and lady should not apply to someone of his consequence. It would not surprise me, in fact.”

  “A letter? What did it say?”

  She smiled. “That I cannot tell you, sir. I did not read it.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You did not read it?”