Page 29 of Missing

Reluctant to press further for his uncle’s health, Richard only repeated, “If you will not believe me, then for my sake keep him at a distance. I must know Georgiana is safe.”

“Do not trouble yourself, nephew. I shall speak to him,” Mr. Darcy replied, ending the matter.

The next day, Mr. Darcy summoned Wickham.

“Come in, George; I must speak with you seriously.”

“Of course, godfather. You know I am always ready to serve you,” Wickham replied, though puzzled.

“George, I want you to stay away from Georgiana, at least for the present.”

“I shall do as you command. But may I beg to know why? You know how I respect and adore her.”

Mr. Darcy recounted Richard’s concerns. Wickham, all the while, kept a mask of innocence, though inwardly he cursed his rival.

“And what says Georgiana herself?” he asked softly.

“She shall be kept entirely out of this, is that clear?”

“Perfectly. All I can say in my defence is that I love her as a sister. I am sorry Fitzwilliam and his merchant friend misinterpret my affection. But I shall comply with your request, and henceforth I shall only see her when you or another family member is present.”

“Thank you, my dear boy. I feel easier after hearing you,” Mr. Darcy said with relief.

After a few more words, Wickham departed—and found Richard waiting outside. “You must be pleased, Fitzwilliam.”

“If my Uncle has at last put you in your place, then yes, I am exceedingly pleased.”

“Enjoy your triumph. You may have won this battle, but not the war. One day I shall be master here, and you will be nothing but a poor soldier.”

“Be gone before I treat you as Dalton did,” Richard retorted.

Wickham wisely withdrew, though he vowed not to abandon his schemes. Georgiana was still his prize—he only needed patience until Fitzwilliam was called away.

◆◆◆

Elizabeth was seated upon her husband’s lap, nestled in his arms as he kissed her forehead, cheek, and lips.

They occupied a small armchair near the fireplace, which looked out upon the sea.

A storm had raged the night before, and the waves were still unsettled.

They had just finished breakfast; William, in his nightshirt and robe, held close his wife, who wore only her nightgown.

The day was cold, yet in each other’s embrace before the fire, Elizabeth felt no chill.

William had rented a modest cabin on a hill overlooking the beach. He had engaged a small staff of discreet servants, attentive to their duties but careful never to intrude upon the couple’s privacy.

“What are you thinking, my love?” William asked, gazing at his wife.

“On how pleasant and calming it is to watch the sea, even in a storm,” Elizabeth replied. Looking into her husband’s eyes, she kissed his cheek and added softly, “Thank you, my love, for arranging this beautiful honeymoon.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, dearest. I know how much you delight in the open air and the fields, so I wished to show you another aspect of nature’s beauty. I regret only that I could not plan a longer honeymoon. Yet I intend to make amends with a surprise this summer.”

“A surprise? What surprise?” Elizabeth asked at once.

“Mrs. Dalton, you are too clever not to know the meaning of the word surprise,” William replied with a laugh.

“William, I am curious. Please tell me,” she said, pleadingly.

“If I tell you, it ceases to be a surprise,” he laughed again.

Elizabeth, however, knew well how to persuade him.

After a week of marriage, she had learned precisely how to obtain what she desired.

She kissed him gently at first, then with greater fervour, and, caressing his chest, whispered, “Will you tell me, my love, or will you leave me to suffer in suspense?”

“Oh, Elizabeth, how can you torment me so? You know I cannot deny you when you look at me thus.” He kissed her passionately until she broke the embrace and, with a mischievous smile, asked, “Will you tell me now?”

“Very well, my naughty wife! But after I tell you and I…” William leaned close and whispered in her ear.

Elizabeth’s nervous giggle betrayed her delight. “In summer, I intend to take a month’s holiday and travel with you through the Lake District. That was my surprise—no longer a surprise.”

“I adore your surprise, my love. Although—” Elizabeth began to count upon her fingers.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, William. Only that, if we travel in June, I may be three months with child, and travel would not be a difficulty. That is all.”

Startled, William turned pale. “My love, are you with child? How do you know?”

Elizabeth laughed. “No, dearest, I do not know. Yet after these days when you and I…” She blushed and concluded, “It could be, do you not think? Though, from your reaction, I am not sure you are prepared for such news.”

“Do not say that, my love. The day God blesses us with a child, I shall be the happiest of men. But you are right—it is possible that already there is a little son or daughter here.” He caressed her belly tenderly before kissing her once more.

Then he carried her to the bed, where he made love to her with the deepest tenderness.

“I love you, William,” Elizabeth whispered, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes.

“And I love you, my dear Mrs. Dalton,” William replied, holding her close until, content, they both fell asleep.

The following day, with heavy hearts, they set out for London.

The weather was fair, and the journey uneventful.

William, who had never liked travelling, enjoyed this one, for Elizabeth read to him and told stories from her childhood.

They dozed together, holding hands, exchanging kisses, and savouring the last hours of their brief honeymoon.

With Elizabeth, William could converse upon every subject.

She had already mastered the workings of his business and helped him view matters from another perspective.

He was aware of his own failing—that once his good opinion was lost, it was lost forever.

Elizabeth had taught him that all deserved a second chance, and that judgments, however confident, might sometimes be mistaken.

When at last they reached London, William handed his wife from the carriage and whispered, “Welcome home, my love—or rather, to our first home.”

“And our final home will be in Manchester?” she asked.

“I do not know. If all prospers in London, we may remain here. But I wish to buy a larger house in a quieter neighbourhood, where our children may have parks and space.”

“William, should we not first greet your mother before planning the next ten years?” Elizabeth teased.

“You will never cease to tease me, Mrs. Dalton. Yet ever since you suggested that children might soon arrive, I have thought only of their future, even their dowries.” He winked.

Elizabeth caressed his face. “My dear, you will always have my support.”

As they approached the house, William suddenly lifted her into his arms.

“William, put me down! What will your mother think?” Elizabeth protested through laughter.

“My mother will be glad to see us,” he answered merrily.

Carrying his wife into the room where he expected to find Violet, William declared, “Dearest mother, your favourite son has arrived!”

“Very amusing,” Elizabeth began, but she stopped short upon seeing Violet surrounded by guests.

“Dalton, how glad I am to see you,” cried Mr. Bingley with his usual smile. “I hope you will forgive this intrusion, but I have an urgent matter to consult you upon.”

Elizabeth and William exchanged bewildered glances, uncertain what to think.