Page 75

“Well… yes, I did. And do. It seems to follow fairly logically from our previous conversation.” Dropping the teasing note from her voice, she reached out to touch his arm and said more quietly, “We are to be married in less than a week, Fitzwilliam. I… I would like to know, if you would tell me. I’ll try not to judge you.

It is all so unknown to me, and I trust you… but I would like to know…”

Fitzwilliam Darcy would have never, ever dreamed of sharing such intimate information with anyone, not even his cousin Richard, let alone with a young lady.

But somehow, Elizabeth’s quiet plea combined with a morning of opening himself to her led him to acquiesce.

He led her away from the trail to a fallen tree and laid his coat across the log so that she might sit.

“Very well. Prepare yourself as it is a rather long story.”

Elizabeth nodded and sat, keeping to herself the thought that Darcy was much like Jane in some ways—bottling up his thoughts and emotions until he released them in a flood.

Darcy paced the clearing several times, but finally came to stop a few feet before her, bracing his arm against a tree and stubbing his toe on a tuft of grass.

“Bother, I don’t even know how to begin.

” He sighed. “Well… it was 1811 and I had just finished at university and come of age a week later. My father and I went to London, where I was presented at court and my Aunt and Uncle Fitzwilliam hosted a ball in my honor. Papa and I spent many hours with the family solicitors and bankers, finalizing all the paperwork that settled various inheritances on me and formalized my rights as his heir. I’d been awarded several prizes and won the fencing tournament against Oxford, so all in all I was feeling quite full of myself.

I was twenty-one it and felt as if I was king of the world.

” Will sighed and kicked at the grass again.

Elizabeth was listening raptly, building a picture of yet another stage in her fiancé’s life; A time when he had been a young man who had survived the loss of his mother and recovered his spirits enough to begin enjoying his life again.

Will brushed a fly from his coat absently.

“After the Fitzwilliams’ party, my father returned to Pemberley but pressed me to remain in London for a time and enjoy myself.

I had studied hard and it felt rather like a cork popping out of a bottle of champagne.

You must understand… I’ve never been even remotely wild or profligate.

I’m afraid I had the reputation of be ing quite the dullest chap in our college—just ask Bingley—and in many ways I was still very na?ve, despite having rooms along the hall from Wickham for three years.

. My devotion to my books was in part a conscious effort to separate myself from him and his… activities.

“But I digress. After Papa left London, I let myself get caught up in the whirl of the High Season. That is the only time in my life that I ever fell out of the habit of rising with the sun. It seemed as if there were parties and dinners and balls to attend every moment of the day or night.”

Seeing Elizabeth’s raised eyebrow, he laughed uncomfortably.

“Yes, I danced. I’ve never been comfortable in large gatherings or with strangers—shyness is a trait that plagues both Georgiana and myself, as if you had not guessed already.

But the ladies were so forward that I barely had to say anything, and so I enjoyed the glitter and the attention without taking any of it very seriously.

I knew enough to keep out of trouble, but I hadn’t yet become the cynical misanthrope that you were confronted with upon our first meeting.

” The two smiled at each other for a moment, grateful for their present understanding.

“Richard looked out for me, as well. There were several occasions when I opened the newspaper only to read about some scandal that had occurred at a party I had planned to attend the night before but skipped at his behest. He is not so much older but he had spent considerably more time in London, so I suppose he knew the ins and outs of Society much better. Also, as a second son, he often saw a side of people’s characters that they hid from me, my father’s heir. Sometimes I truly hate it, you know?”

Elizabeth nodded in understanding. Fitzwilliam drew a breath and then moved to sit beside her on the log, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees.

“Looking back now, is more like trying to recall a nightmare.” He sighed.

“One evening, Richard was required to attend some military function and Ashbourne invited me to join him at his club. He was part of the fast set of lordlings and elder sons—I didn’t particularly like any of them, but I still felt flattered to be invited.

” He shrugged, still feeling like a fool.

“I ended up drinking far more than I ever had before, trying to keep up with them, I suppose. In hindsight, I’m fairly certain that they worked together to get me as liquored up as possible.

At first, it was only cards and billiards in a private room at Boodles, but then the group began to get more raucous and plans were made to move on to a place where they could continue the revelry.

At that point it was very late, I was more inebriated than I had ever been in my life, and I began to think longingly of my bed.

I remember saying as much to my cousin and him laughing and pulling me into a carriage, promising that he would see that I was properly tucked into bed .

“The rest had spread themselves among several other vehicles and I recall quite a bit of laughter as they tried to get the drivers to race. We arrived at a house somewhere in Mayfair and everyone tumbled out. I thought of saying good night and directing the hansom back to my own residence, but Ashbourne prodded me again and I didn’t want to offend him, so I went along.

I thought that the house belonged to one of the gentlemen in our group, but the room we settled in seemed like a cross between a gentlemen’s den and a lady’s boudoir.

While my cousin was encouraging me to drink some sort of sweetened liquor and the other gentlemen were helping themselves to port, brandy, tobacco, and heaven only knows what else, a number of ladies appeared and began greeting them like old friends.

Two joined my cousin and me… and Ashbourne introduced us, using their Christian names.

“One had such large… bosoms… that I could barely raise my eyes to her face.

My only defense is that her dress was cut extremely low, and I was extremely intoxicated.

Edward encouraged me to go with her, saying that she would see me to a bed and make sure I was ‘properly tucked in.’ In hindsight, I suppose I understand why he was laughing hysterically as I left the room.

“The next I knew, we were alone in a bedchamber and she had on nothing but a very thin, lacy…

err… garment. I was so shocked that I must have sat down on the bed, but then she came to stand in front of me and began unbuttoning my coat and untying my cravat.

It was all done very quickly and I was so tongue-tied that I could barely say a word, let alone inform her that I had not asked for that particular type of ‘tucking in.’ And I could not stand up or get around her without…

well, without touching various parts of the female form that I had been taught to never even look at, let alone touch with my bare hands.

“So, while my alcohol-fogged brain was desperately trying to work out a way to politely excuse myself from the situation while maintaining my dignity and without injuring the lady’s feelings…” He caught a soft chuckle from Elizabeth that reassured him enough to continue with the tale.

“… She was down to untucking my shirt and drawing it up over my head. I’d been leaning farther and farther back to keep some distance between us, and at that point I finally fell back on the bed, with her on top of me, and my face pressed into her…

bosoms, which was by then entirely uncovered.

It is… err… very difficult… for a man to keep his mind on escaping when in… err… such a position.”

Elizabeth could not control a brief giggle from escaping, but did her best to remain silent and resist all the witty comments that came to mind.

Will sighed and continued. “So there I was, lying on my back, my arms tangled in a shirt which seemed to be knotted up over my head, my face pressed into this lady’s bosom—I had quite forgotten her name, which seemed excessively important at the time—when I started to feel her hand moving down my chest to my waist, and then beginning to undo my breeches.

I remember her saying something to the effect of “Oh dearie, you are a handsome one, aren’t you” and then…

well… she began… caressing me… and I really lost all sense of protest or thought or… well… dignity after that.”

Darcy suddenly snapped back to the present and realized what he had just related, and to his fiancée of all people. He buried his face in his hands, groaning in anguished embarrassment.

Elizabeth paused a moment to steady herself and then moved her hand to rub his back, saying quietly, “It is alright, Will. Finish the story. I want to hear it. And I rather think you need to tell it to me.”