Page 32 of Expectations (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #7)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

OVERWHELMING GOOD FORTUNE

D arcy did not like or care much for society events; as he had refused ever more invitations over the years—or not come to town at all—those invitations had mostly ceased arriving.

However, the notice of his marriage in the papers had alerted the hostesses of London to new opportunities, and a few had begun trickling in.

Those, he gathered up and brought into the breakfast parlour with him the following morning.

His wife was an early riser, thankfully; he never had long to wait before she appeared, bright-eyed and pretty in the foggy morning light.

He stood to greet her, daring to press a kiss to her cheek.

It heated a light blush where his lips made contact and as she met his gaze, he realised anew just how stupid he had been, not to recognise her obvious innocence.

“Michael, you may leave us. I will call if we need anything,” he said, dismissing the waiting footman. “May I fill your plate?” he asked Elizabeth.

She nodded, and he smiled at how tongue-tied she appeared.

Her blush deepened, and it was all he could do to resist taking that lovely mouth with his own.

He distracted himself with selecting those dishes he had previously seen her choose, placing her plate before her and then taking his own.

Instead of seating himself across from her, he chose the seat beside her, so that they might look at the invitations together.

“This one is from Lady Stanhope to her ball on Friday next. Lord and Lady Stanhope are ton leaders, who can introduce you to the crème de la crème of society. It will be particularly well attended, I promise.” He set aside the heavy, ostentatious parchment.

“This one invites us to Sir Everett’s theatre party.

He has a box at the Theatre Royal— Hamlet is playing, I believe.

” He showed her three or four more, indicating how large the event, who was likely to be in attendance, and what she could expect of the entertainments.

“What would you like to accept?” she asked.

“I would like to accept everything or anything that sounds enjoyable to you,” he explained.

“I really have not the wardrobe to attend a ball,” she said uneasily. “What I have will do for the musicale and the theatre. I do not expect you to waste much money on new dresses, especially if we will be returning to the country soon.”

It troubled him, that she should even have such concerns. “Elizabeth, we have no monetary worries, you realise that, do you not?”

“Clearly, I know you are prosperous.”

He turned to her fully. “Did you not read the settlement papers I sent?”

“It is possible that I…I packed them away without doing so. I may have been a bit cowardly, when it came to thick packets of lawyerly texts. Nothing that arrived from Bingley’s solicitors was ever good news.”

“Let me explain to you now, then. What is mine, is yours. You are my wife. My fortune is there for you.”

“I did not marry you in order to spend it.”

“I know that. Everything I have, everything I earn, is for your happiness and pleasure. It means nothing to me in and of itself, except as a means of providing you with anything your heart desires.”

To his dismay, her eyes filled with tears. “I am sorry,” she said, clearly embarrassed. “I am not usually so emotional.”

He took both her hands in his. “What is the matter?”

She shook her head, tried for a smile. “I am being silly. My mother saw that I had wedding clothes—and Jane was always generous in giving me her discarded dresses. I simply have never envisioned ball gowns, or having a life that requires them. I am…overwhelmed.”

All of a sudden, he understood; she had never had any fortune of her own.

She had moved into her sister’s home to live upon Bingley’s charity, and her parents had expected the Bingleys to provide for her.

From everything he had since learnt of Bingley, he had not possessed any of his father’s business acumen and had wasted or gambled away most of his wealth.

Elizabeth had nothing, and would have been unlikely to ask for much on her own behalf; she had clothed herself with her sister’s castoffs for years.

No one had put her needs on any list of importance.

How long had it been since she had simply shopped, as his sister often enjoyed, for whatever might interest her?

“You need not attend balls—if the idea does not appeal, we will send our regrets. But I wish you would order a dozen ball gowns, even if you only wear them for a walk in the gardens.” He brushed a stray tear off her silky-smooth cheek.

“My aunt would know which are the best warehouses—she would also know a dressmaker of quality.” Darcy appreciated the flicker of interest in her eyes, but he would not have her be dressed by any but the best; considering the errors of the past, however, he knew he ought to broach that subject carefully. He turned to another.

“About that,” he said. “Perhaps it is past time that I was introduced to your uncle and aunt, and explanations were proffered. I would not have them believing you in the hands of a gross deceiver.”

“Would you?” Her eyes widened, and he was conscious of another stab of guilt—no matter his wounded pride, he ought to have set it aside and shown at least a basic tolerance for her relations.

“I would.”

The expression on her face lightened into a brilliant smile. “That would mean so much to me,” she said, and he wished for the hundredth time he had not been so foolish for so long. Still, there was more to discuss upon those matters which had torn them apart seven years ago.

“As little as I wish to bring up the subject of Miss Lucas, I must ask her current situation. I was very resolved, in my long-ago reply to Mr Gardiner given through my solicitor, that he should never contact me again, not for any reason—that I considered the matter closed. Had I enquired more closely, I would have learnt the name of the recipient of my money. Unfortunately, I thought I already knew it, and I could barely stand to speak of the matter. Beyond asking my representative to ensure that the money went directly to the young lady, and not to Gardiner himself or any other, I did not ask any of the questions I ought to have asked, nor make certain all was handled appropriately.”

Elizabeth looked stricken. “Yes, of course—she must be brought to account for her dishonesty. Even though I understand why she lied, it was a reprehensible thing to do.”

He shook his head at this. “You misunderstand, my dear—I believe in this instance, allowing sleeping dogs to lie is the best policy. I only hope to learn whether or not she might ever repeat her accusations. Perhaps Mr Gardiner could discover how she does.”

“Oh, I know that much,” she replied. “My uncle made arrangements for her to be housed with the widow of a friend of his in Oxford—a person whom he liked and trusted, a Mrs Pearson. To her parents, Charlotte made the excuse of an opportunity to live as a paid companion to a respectable person, and once they were satisfied as to the propriety of the situation, it was easily enough done. Her parents have too many children to provide for, and were relieved to have one of them off their hands. Charlotte told them Mrs Pearson did not like many visitors, and although she wrote to them regularly, her family left her alone to a very quiet life. I do not know whether it was Charlotte or her benefactor who concocted the story of Mrs Pearson’s daughter dying in childbirth and leaving the babe with Mrs Pearson, but somehow they managed to pass the child off as a relation of hers. It is what her parents believe.”

“I suppose it happens often enough.”

“Yes. My uncle helped Charlotte at first with investing her money…um, your money,” Elizabeth continued.

He put his hand on hers. “Her money,” he corrected, and she smiled at him in a way that lifted his heart.

“Once everything was settled and she was wholly recovered, Mrs Pearson introduced her to her circle of friends. Eventually she married an Oxford don, who was happy to have a prosperous wife—she is Mrs Ryder now. She writes to her parents—never to me any longer, and she has nothing to do with my uncle either. My aunt is of the opinion that she has adopted her lie as truth, and does not like any reminders of her past.”

“Does Bingley’s child live with her?”

“Yes. Her mother used to speak of it as an example of Charlotte’s charitable nature. I am not sure whether her husband knows the truth, because I only hear news from Lady Lucas. They also have a son now. I cannot imagine her ever admitting anything to anyone, if she can avoid it.”

“I wonder whether Bingley ever tried to make compensation himself. I suppose we shall never know.”

Elizabeth’s mouth turned hard. “While of course I cannot know for certain, I have my doubts. It was not his way to face troubles of his own making. He was much more likely to ruin a life than fix it.”

He covered the hand he held with his other. “Her secret is safe with me.”

She looked up at him. “I know it is. I am angry at her lie, but I understand it. I would not like to disrupt her life now, when she has managed to make something of it, despite her mistakes.”

Leaning across to close the distance between them, he placed an arm about her shoulders and drew her close. “Whatever you wish, Elizabeth.” Her gaze, luminous, lovely, met his, and he could not resist pressing for more. “May I kiss my wife good morning?”

She smiled her permission. It was exquisite torture, kissing her; only the knowledge that someday, soon, she would be his in all ways gave him the strength of will to restrain himself, to keep the touch light, attempting to encourage without overwhelming her with his need.

When she reached up to wrap her arms about his neck, he nearly lost that control; only the sound of voices beyond the parlour door recalled him to his whereabouts, giving him strength to gentle the kiss into something less inciting.

As he ended it, he held her close, hardly able to bear the idea of letting her go.

“I tend to become carried away by my passion for you,” he said. “After so many years of waiting, I hope I can be forgiven.”

“Years of waiting?” she questioned. “Surely it has not been years. You do not need to shelter me from your past. You may think me bold to say it, but I know that men often have their…their mistresses. It is enough for me to know you will be faithful in the present to the vows we made together.”

“I am sorry you were exposed to such infidelity. I know it is not always the case—or perhaps not often the case, but my parents were loyal to each other all their marriage. I have always wanted that for myself.”

“But before you said your vows?” she blurted, then covered her mouth with her hand, as if she had not meant to speak the thought aloud.

I was faithful to the love I had for you and you alone , he wanted to tell her—but he did not wish to point out the inequality of their feelings, or pressure her to return his.

“I was willing to wait for a love that could match the one my parents had for each other. Besides, I have been very busy these last several years at Pemberley. In return for farming improvements and the adoption of modern techniques, we undertook the most ambitious building project in its history, to expand, repair, and add new homes and barns.”

“You invested in your tenants.”

“We invested in each other.” He took both her hands in his.

“As you know, I despise relying solely upon the weather for the maintenance of my fortune. My business concerns have taken up a great deal of time, although if I am to spend more time as a husband and father, I intend to sell some of my anonymous partnerships. You need not worry about our finances, even so. They are well in hand.”

“I love that you are so practical, that you will always be able to take care of us,” she said, her eyes shining.

He felt approximately one hundred feet tall at her words.