Page 22 of Fitzwilliam Darcy An Honourable Man

Pemberley

As William reached the bluff overlooking the valley where the great expanse of Pemberley lay, he pulled Onyx to a halt to allow Mr. Campbell time to come alongside him. Onyx, spirited as always, insisted on trotting ahead of the other horse. The mare that Mr. Campbell always chose to ride was old and slow, and William smiled, pondering the older gentleman’s fear of horses. He was fearless in regards to everything but horses.

In a short time, the Scotsman’s mount stopped beside William’s, and for a long while, neither man spoke as they watched the sun begin to sink behind the tree line. Soon the purple shadows would give way to complete darkness. Both men were well aware that they needed to leave this area as quickly as possible, in light of what they had just learned.

William’s day had begun before daylight with his steward, Mr. Sturgis, informing him of the particulars of the problems of a tenant who had lost his cow and calf the day before, both having been killed by a wild animal. The result was a family with four hungry children and no source of milk, butter, or cheese. William had instructed Sturgis to provide them a cow from Pemberley’s herd, thinking that that would settle the problem.

However, Sturgis was just beginning his explanation. He went on to say that while William was in London, they had lost several lambs near the same area in like manner and that he had asked the tenant not to butcher the cow until it could be examined by Mr. Campbell. Roy Campbell, a groom and excellent marksman, was the man on whom William relied to rid the estate of pests—usually packs of wild dogs—whenever any threatened the livestock.

Campbell had surprised William with his assertion that the likely culprit was a wolf. Wolves had been numerous in England two centuries before and a menace to the populace, but the only credible sightings he had heard of in the last ten years were in Wales and remote parts of Scotland. Granted, Pemberley was situated in the north of the Peak district, but he had never heard anyone complain of wolves in the vicinity. Thinking on it further, he did recall that his father had mentioned seeing one on a remote corner of the estate before William was born. Nonetheless, he would not dismiss Mr. Campbell’s contention, as the man was born in Edinburgh and grew up hunting the creatures.

“Are you confident enough in your supposition to merit the warning of my tenants and neighbouring estates?”

Mr. Campbell considered his answer carefully before replying. “I am. Some will make sport, maybe call you foolish. But even if it is not a wolf—and I believe it is—something is killing the livestock. It could just as likely have been a child killed as a calf or a lamb. I have seen no signs of a pack, and if it is a rogue—well, I have seen a few of those in my day. They are evil clean through, sometimes killing for the sport of it and not just to survive.”

William shivered, thinking of the heartbreak that an animal such as that could inflict. “Send out the warnings among our tenants first thing tomorrow. I shall warn my neighbours.”

He glanced at the man he credited with much of his success in the position he inherited at his father’s death. “I trust you to take the necessary men and try and destroy it before it kills anything else.”

The old man nodded, and they kicked their horses back into motion. If Campbell’s suspicions were correct, the nightmare might just be beginning.

~~~*~~~

Elizabeth bolted up in bed, her breath coming fast. An endless night, filled with dreams, and replete with repressed memories had ended with a totally unexpected revelation. She had come to expect the discomfort but never dreamed it would come from another source—a source that, in some ways, brought a deeper pain. Instead of reliving the count’s cruelty last night, she had remembered Mr. Darcy’s tenderness.

“ I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. I think I loved you from the first moment I saw you.

“ I swear that only the grace of God allowed me to catch sight of a slip of a girl with ebony eyes and a head full of chocolate curls from the corner of my eye. When your eyes locked with mine, it felt as if a fire ignited. Did you feel it as well?

“ Of a truth, from the moment I saw you, Elizabeth, I was drawn like a moth to a flame, and it frightened me. I had been hiding behind this mask for so long…

“ If you remember Pemberley, you will remember how much I love you.

“ I will spend the rest of my life loving you, if only you will stay with me. Please, Elizabeth. ”

Elizabeth was completely astonished. Amazed. She pinched her arm and flinched at the reassurance that she was truly awake. It was not comforting. Not only had she remembered his affectionate words, but her recollection had summoned a rush of love—tender feelings so profound that she felt embarrassed by them even now, though she was alone. Had she been responding to his embraces, his kisses, in this manner all along?

The bittersweet memories faded quickly and an image of Stefano came to mind. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of the last time she had been in his arms. He had forced her into an embrace, kissing her brutally, then held her at arm’s length and slapped her. Issuing his usual threat of death if she left him, he had quitted the room, locking the door. Stefano’s cruel, sadistic nature and threats left no doubt that she and those she loved would never be safe as long as he lived. Shivering, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself.

This can never be! How Fitzwilliam feels about me does not matter. I will never be anything but an encumbrance—a liability. He has shouldered my problems when it is not his place, and he deserves what Georgiana spoke of—a wife and children. I will apologise for my actions and then find a place to go. I cannot stay here.

A fleeting recollection of Fitzwilliam’s lips sliding softly across her forehead, the smell of his sandalwood cologne and his hands smoothing over her back, made her close her eyes and breathe deeply, willing herself not to sob. How can I abandon such a love? She sighed. You will, because you must.

Having no strength left to face him straight away, the rest of the day was spent in her room—using a headache as the perfect excuse for her absence. Mrs. Drury kept her company for the first part of the day, but the evening found her alone on the balcony. Just as the shadows began to lengthen signalling the beginning of darkness, she caught sight of a lone figure approaching from the direction of the stables—his unusual height and noble bearing proof of his identity. Her heart began to beat faster, and she could not draw her gaze away from his long strides. She found herself cursing the darkness because it hid his beloved features from her, and an unfamiliar ache deep within reminded her of what she had learned only this morning. He loves me as I love him.

Nonetheless, even though she longed to see him, Elizabeth was determined not to act upon that desire. For now, it was better that she waited until she could face him without giving away her feelings. He would never know that she had remembered Pemberley .

The Study

After the first paragraph, William eyed the letter with suspicion. Though it seemed to have been written by Charles, splotches and all, there was something about the handwriting and wording that made him uneasy. Charles’ usual straightforward manner had been replaced by a decidedly feminine approach. Never in all their years had Charles written of new furnishings, even if they were for his expected child’s room. It was as though the first paragraph was to convince him that this letter was indeed from Netherfield.

William fingers slid over his chin in agitation, a niggling doubt now turning into outright disbelief as he read the next part. The paragraph regarding Miss Elise was not logical. Why would Charles ask when Miss Elise would be returning to her home and imply that he would love an invitation whenever she departed?

This letter was not written by Charles. He sat up straight, his brow knit. Could Caroline be at Netherfield?

It was evident that the author wanted him to issue an invitation to Pemberley, which pointed to Caroline. But how would she have known the name they used to refer to Elizabeth? Had she been reading Charles’ correspondence?

Immediately, William took pen and paper, composing a letter to the Bingleys. He would enclose this missive. If indeed this letter was not from Charles, then someone else knew of their plan.

God forbid Caroline has found out about Elizabeth!

London

A Townhouse

Grosvenor Square

Wickham felt like a lowly servant as he waited, hat in hand, to see Count Stefano. The butler was not there to take his coat or hat, and even the maid who let him in had not offered to perform this most basic courtesy, turning up her nose as if in disgust. None of the servants, foreigners all, were civil to him. He would not have bothered to come at all if he had not lost all that he had accumulated in the last three months on one badly played hand in a card game.

Wickham could hear men shouting as he entered the house, and it had not subsided as he waited. He tried, but could not make out the words. Finally, the heavy doors to the parlour flew open and a well-groomed, older gentleman stormed out, marching towards the front door, without bothering to acknowledge him.

He watched in fascination as the man cleared the front door so quickly that he left it wide open and trotted down the steps to his waiting carriage. Being someone who envied the wealthy, Wickham noted that the waiting carriage was expensive, and the number of footmen suggested that the gentleman could well afford such luxury. Wickham was staring after him still when the count’s voice rang out from behind.

“Are you going to stand there and stare, or do you have business with me?” Wickham whirled about, speechless, and the count smirked at his discomposure.

“My father, Frederick Warren Stanton, Earl of Essex,” Stefano gestured towards the departing man. “It is too bad he only had the time required to make another demand, or I could have introduced you.”

Since no servants had appeared, the count moved to close the door while Wickham considered what he had learned. Knowing that he really should not ask, he nevertheless enquired, “Another demand?”

“He demands that I leave his beloved England and my dissolute ways behind!” The count laughed menacingly.

Softening only a bit, he continued, “I suppose he still cares enough to warn me that the Earl of Matlock may have figured out the puzzle of my many aliases, and it will not take him long to realise that I have returned to London. I should never have bothered with that de Bourgh woman.”

He fixed his glare on Wickham. “Remember, not all women are worth the things you steal from them.”

Wickham’s interest picked up considerably at the mention of Darcy’s uncle and cousin, not to mention the intriguing remark about his many names. But he barely had time to consider those things before Stefano turned around, heading in the direction of his study.

He called over his shoulder. “Come! I have work to do and only a short time to spare for your concerns.”

Reaching the room, he threw the door open and strode to the large mahogany desk, dropping wearily into his chair and propping his feet on the edge. “Now, what was it that necessitated your unexpected visit to my home today?”

Having followed him hurriedly, Wickham took the chair in front, barely seating himself before blurting out, “I have uncovered news of your wife.” At the count’s scowl, he added, “I believe it to be credible!”

He watched eagerly as Stefano’s feet hit the floor, and he leaned forward across his desk, his eyes narrowing. Wickham knew he had his full attention. “My sources say there is talk she did not die in the fire but was spirited away and could possibly be residing at her sister’s house.”

“Which sister?”

Wickham almost stuttered in his haste. “Jane Bennet—Jane Bingley, I mean.”

Stefano frowned, waving his hand as if dismissing the idea. “She lives in Meryton. My man specifically checked with her mother in that town. She firmly believes Elizabeth to be dead. If she were alive and tried to hide there, her mother would find out and pass the information to me.”

“Her mother?”

Stefano’s face became as hard as stone. “You are never to repeat any of this conversation. If my relationship with Mrs. Bennet should ever be ...” His voice trailed off, and his thoughts seemed to be in another place.

Almost immediately he recovered. “Nevertheless, I shall send my man to reassess your information. If anyone would dare to keep Elizabeth from me, it would be her sister Jane.”

“But why would—”

Wickham’s enquiry was interrupted. “Silence. You ask too many questions. I advise you of all you need to know.”

Wickham’s confusion made the count smile. “Let us just say that Mrs . Bennet was a great friend to me, whereas Jane Bennet, or whatever her name is now, was not.”

Pemberley

William’s dressing room

Nervously straightening his cravat, William addressed himself in the mirror. It is past time. Just do it.

Today, he would offer an olive branch and pray Elizabeth would take it. He was not willing to live the rest of his life trying to avoid the only other occupant of his home. She could spend her time alone, if she wished, but at least they could be cordial to one another when they met. Perhaps, if she became comfortable, she might even leave the confines of her room. It would especially please him if she availed herself of the library as he knew her to be an avid reader. Thus, cautiously he made his way down the hall to the door to the sitting area, adjacent to her bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted one hand, prayed for success, then knocked. Immediately the summons was issued. “Come in.”

The voice was Elizabeth’s, not that of her companion, and for a brief second, he considered the impropriety of entering her room. Thinking on all that had happened before, he dismissed it and opened the door. His gaze was immediately drawn to the window seat where she sat, knees drawn up to her chest, the tips of her blue slippers visible under the edge of her gown. A book was propped upon her knees. Immediately, she moved to sit properly, placing her feet on the floor and smoothing her skirts. Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.

“Please excuse me, Mr. Darcy. I thought you were Mrs. Drury,” she murmured softly, laying the book in her lap, and then studying him curiously. Instantly, all thoughts of his planned address deserted him.

“I ... Miss Elizabeth.” He swallowed hard, trying to think of what he wanted to say as all he could think of was how lovely she looked at that moment. “I apologise if my presence disturbs you.”

“No.”

“No?” he repeated.

“Your presence does not disturb me, sir. I have wished to speak to you since your return.” At his look of astonishment, she smiled slightly as she explained, “To apologise for my behaviour ... my refusal to see you, but frankly, I have had no luck locating you.”

The corners of his mouth started to lift, and a great sadness welled up inside of Elizabeth. For the first time since gaining control of her faculties, she saw him as he truly was—no longer the young man of Kent. The grey in his hair and lines on his face spoke to her of heavy burdens and, perhaps, sorrow. Even as he tried to smile, his mien uncertain, she could barely hold back the tears that filled her eyes at the tenderness she beheld in his.

“Please.” He stepped closer. “Do not trouble yourself for my sake as you owe me no apology. If anything, I should apologise to you. I swore to keep you safe, but you were subject to even more distress while a guest in my home.”

She did not trust herself to speak without crying, so she remained silent as he continued. “I would never wish to cause you further discomfort. I know you requested to be left alone, but ...” He tilted his head, and he looked so childlike that her heart ached for him. “I had hoped you might change your mind and join me for dinner.” After a moment, he added tentatively, “Tonight.”

“Yes,” she whispered, wondering if she could swallow anything with the huge lump in her throat.

Now, he smiled widely, and to his delight, she returned it. “Mrs. Reynolds has sent word that dinner has been prepared. If you should desire to change—”

Elizabeth stood. “There is no need. I am ready.”

As she placed the book she was holding on the nearby table and slowly walked towards him, her eyes locked with his and William’s heart began to pound. He held out his arm, and he barely felt her place a delicate hand upon it. Then, without words, they quitted the room side-by-side and wordlessly headed towards the grand staircase.

As the handsome couple descended the stairs, Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Walker stood talking in the foyer and both immediately hushed and moved to their posts—she at the end of the steps and he just a little further away..

The housekeeper nodded to Mr. Darcy and smiled at Elizabeth as they reached the bottom. “I took the liberty of having the staff set the table for two.”

William tried to sound unaffected as he led his heart’s desire forward, but he could not suppress a smile as he replied, “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. You are most efficient.”

Entering the exquisitely decorated dining room, resplendent with mahogany furniture, fine linens, mirrored walls and a king’s ransom in crystal and silverware, William watched Elizabeth surreptitiously, delighting in the look of wonder on her face. Her eyes widened at the opulence, and she turned completely around in a circle, before coming to a stop facing him and colouring. As though her inspection were the most natural thing in the world, he proceeded to seat her on his right, taking his place at the head of the table as the first course was being brought in. Shyly, he glanced at her and smiled slightly, and Elizabeth reassured him by returning it with one of her own.

Even so, her mind rebelled against the pull of her heart. This lovely, magical place could never be her home and even as she gloried in the fact that he had smiled just for her, it screamed out a warning. Leave now before you are in too deeply.

Netherfield

The parlour

Caroline was near to screaming. She pulled her head back so that she could look down her nose at the other occupants of the room, taking aim at Jane’s mother. If she says one more thing about her nerves!

Mrs. Bennet had indeed come again to see her daughter and grandchild, dragging her other offspring with her, just as she promised. Unfortunately for Mrs. Bennet, Jane was still not feeling well and hardly attempted to entertain her family, thus leaving most of the hostessing duties to Charles’ visibly irritated sister.

Caroline asked through gritted teeth, “May I offer you another piece of cake?” Anything to silence the harridan!

Mrs. Bennet took the proffered treat, stuffing it into her mouth, and began to speak before fully chewing and swallowing. This made Caroline more nauseated than was her usual wont when faced with the Bennets’ company, and she turned away.

“I came specifically to see Peter!” the older woman declared, putting a finger into her mouth to lick the frosting off. “Oh, where is the dear boy?”

Jane wanted to say that she was keeping the boy hidden. Peter was scared to death of her mother’s raucous exclamations of affection and would invariably issue a piercing scream whenever she tried to hold him. Instead, Jane held her tongue. On her mother’s last visit, she had claimed that Peter suffered with an earache. Now she was faced with choosing a different malady.

“Peter is sleeping, Mama. He was up all night with a stomach ache, and I prefer that he rest. I am sorry that you came so far.”

“Far? Nonsense! We are but two miles apart. Besides, if you would use the remedies I have recommended, he would never suffer stomach ailments. But do you listen to me? No!”

Her eyes narrowed at her eldest as though she was beginning to wonder if Jane did not want her to see the boy. She exclaimed resolutely, “Well, if he is sleeping, I shall just have to continue to come often until I find him awake!”

Caroline groaned audibly, catching the attention of Kitty and Lydia who had been chatting without regard to the others since their arrival. The youngest Bennets collapsed in laughter, and none of Mrs. Bennet’s pleadings could force them to explain the source of their amusement. During it all, Jane threw an exasperated glance at Caroline, who just shrugged.

“Mama, please wait until Sunday. We are to join you for dinner, and I am sure Peter will be well by then.”

Mrs. Bennet huffed but did not reply, instead, standing to depart. Everyone else stood, and they all made their way towards the door. Lydia and Kitty managed to go through ahead of their mother, running down the steps and shouting for her to hurry or the shops would close before their arrival. Mrs. Bennet, however, stayed resolute at the door, staring at Jane. Finally, Jane reached into the pocket sewn into her dress and retrieved a few coins, looking back to see if Caroline was watching. Glad for the departure of the meddlesome Bennets, Charles’ sister had stayed behind in the parlour.

As discreetly as possible, Jane dropped the coins into Mrs. Bennet’s waiting hand, and the older woman pulled it back to examine the contents. A pleased look covered her face, and she smiled. “You take such good care of your poor mother.”

She leaned in to give Jane a kiss, but Jane swayed back slightly, and Mrs. Bennet kissed the air. “You should hurry if you are walking into Meryton, Mama.”

“Yes. Yes, you are correct.” Mrs. Bennet hastened down the steps. “I shall ask Mr. Phillips to have us driven home in his carriage as soon as we are done visiting Mary.”

She was completely out of sight before Jane realised she still stared in the direction they had gone. Silently, Caroline had moved to stand beside her, remarking dully, “A very unusual woman, your mother.”

“Indeed,” came the reply—equally as lifeless.

Ignoring Caroline, Jane shut the door and quit the foyer, mounting the grand staircase and heading for Peter’s room. How she hated it when Charles was away, and she was left to deal with his sister and her mother all by herself.

Netherfield

Later that evening

Caroline went to Charles’ study earlier than was her usual habit as her brother and sister had not come down for dinner, and she assumed they had retired for the night. She was exhausted by the visit of Jane’s awful family and was resigned to retire early herself, but not before checking to see if anything had come in the mail. She had become accustomed to the feeling of accomplishment she had in knowing all of the Bingleys’ affairs, personal and financial. What with Jane’s being indisposed lately, she had half-convinced herself that she was not meddling, but instead, keeping an eye on their shared circumstances and she felt entitled to do so.

She had no more than locked the door and sat down behind the desk, when voices in the hall outside brought her to her feet. She could hear Charles as he addressed a servant. She ran to stand behind a tall bookcase that separated a small reading area from the rest of the room. Gasping for air, she took several deep breaths in order to calm herself. Almost immediately, she heard the sound of a key, the yielding of the lock and squeak of the door. Footsteps made their way towards the desk, and the squeak of the leather chair alerted her to her brother’s presence as he sank into it.

She stood ramrod straight for several minutes, trying not to faint, all the while thinking of and rejecting likely excuses to offer if she were noticed. Her mind raced, and her heart pounded so loudly in her ears, that she did not hear softer footsteps enter the room, only the sound of Jane’s strained voice.

“Charles, I have been so busy I have forgotten to ask. Was there a letter from Mr. Darcy today?” Caroline’s ears perked up, and she leaned closer to the shelf in an effort to hear.

“No, sweetheart, but I expect a letter any day now.”

To her chagrin, Caroline still could not make out every syllable of Jane’s soft reply.

“I am worried. We have not heard a thing since Lizzy regained her senses. Do you suppose she has recovered completely and knows everything—her narrow escape and our efforts to hide her?”

Caroline became rigid. Elizabeth Bennet? But ... but she is dead!

“Part of me prays that she has, Jane, and the other part wonders if she can handle the truth of what happened. Living with the count must have been a nightmare, and if she thinks he may still be looking for her—”

Jane interrupted. “If my sister is back to her true self, she would not wish to bring harm to anyone, especially not Mr. Darcy. It has been admirable of him to help her, but she is stubborn, and I fear she will run away from Pemberley—from us all, if only for our protection.”

Caroline could hear the chair squeak as Charles stood. She prayed they were leaving, and footsteps towards the door seemed to indicate that she was saved from exposure.

“Come, sweetheart! It has been a long day, and there is no need to borrow trouble from tomorrow; we have plenty for the day. Let us save this conversation until we hear from Darcy.” With those words, a door shut and there was the sound of a key turning in a lock. Knowing that she was, thankfully, alone once again, Caroline stepped from behind the shelves.

This cannot be!! Caroline’s face hardened. The cousin at Pemberley is Eliza Bennet, not Elise Lawrence, and it was all a ruse to escape her marriage? Resolve washed across her countenance. I…I shall go to Pemberley and—no! Mr. Darcy would never allow me to confront her. I shall have to destroy this harridan’s plans by sharing her ruse with the world!

She stopped abruptly. But might that destroy Mr. Darcy, too? Then, a slow smile crossed her face.

No! I shall paint him as the innocent party. None shall realise that he had ever known her before she appeared at his home. I shall say that her claim of kinship—being a distant cousin he had never met—was cleverly done with the help of a common acquaintance, and he was too compassionate to suspect their motives. Yes, I shall spin a believable tale.

Mr. Darcy’s standing with the ton could never be jeopardised because of who he is, and what fool would fault him for being too kind-hearted? Yes, Eliza Bennet, I shall tell the world that you ran away from your husband and saw opportunity to attach yourself to Mr. Darcy. Afterward, he will have no choice but to send you away!

Caroline huffed and strolled to the desk. And to think, my own brother has been part and parcel of this whole affair, aiding and abetting the very woman he knows I despised at first sight!

Quite satisfied with her plan, Caroline sat back down and took out pen and paper. She would write to Sarah Beeson immediately. Hopefully she could stay with her in London until the Hursts returned for the latter part of the summer, and if not, she would try Suzanna Carlson. Surely, between the two, she could be in London shortly.

In Town, I shall be able to spread the news of Eliza’s shameful behaviour.