Page 31 of Rumours & Recklessness (Sweet Escapes Collection #1)

Chapter 29

E lizabeth and Jane reclined comfortably by the fire in the drawing-room, having been shooed out of their father’s room by well-meaning Mrs Cooper. “Young ladies cannot spend all their energies in a sick-room! You both have other claims upon your attention,” she had insisted with a twinkle in her eye.

Elizabeth gave every appearance of poring over a book, but her mind wandered. She slid the tip of her finger under the next page, but it hovered so for a long time. Her imagination tended to dwell instead on a tall gentleman with a sonorous voice and the most unforgettable dimple she had ever seen.

Her eyes drifted from the print to the gold band on her finger. It was a little too large for her, and the heavy jewel insisted upon spinning downward toward her palm. She had not objected, as it made the ring less noticeable for the time, and she did not care to hear more of her mother’s triumphing over her new status. Now she flipped the ring over and admired the sparkling facets, her memory turning pleasantly back to the hopeful man who had offered it.

How secure and at home she had felt with him that morning! Rosy blushes came and went from her cheeks when she thought of his gentle touch and his tender kisses. His open vulnerability enchanted her. He so obviously aspired to her pleasure and approval, and she was helpless to withhold it. How could such an arrogant man have altered so abruptly? Of course, she knew the truth now. He never was arrogant. Her lips curved in innocent pleasure, reflecting upon the noble, kind heart she had discovered beneath his carefully polished exterior. She was very much going to relish peering into his private character further, and most assuredly planned to encourage more of his recent lapses in protocol.

“And just what are you girls doing?” Mrs Gardiner, fresh from a short walk with her husband, smiled at her favourite nieces as she joined them. She took a seat opposite Jane.

“I am trying to finish this point lace, and Lizzy is daydreaming about Mr Darcy.” Jane peeked slyly at her sister, waiting for the mortified glance which would admit her sister’s guilt. She would be disappointed.

Elizabeth perked up to return the volley. “Yes, I was just reflecting upon how agreeable it is to find oneself engaged to a handsome man of pleasing manners. He is wealthy as well, which a young man ought to be if he can possibly help it, but most importantly, I find his person and address quite amiable.”

“And he appears to be possessed of good judgement,” winked Mrs Gardiner. “Altogether a fine catch, I daresay!”

Elizabeth chuckled lightly, then glanced over her shoulder out the window when she heard some sound. “Ah, I see Mama and the others have returned.” She gave up trying to read her book and set it aside.

“Oh, my dears!” Mrs Bennet gushed as she re-entered the house. “It is all the talk! I never saw anything like it. Everyone is quite set against that dreadful Mr Wickham! Why, they say he has run off with Miss King, and her uncle still away! Did I not tell you, my loves, to be careful of a man who seems too amiable? What a foolish girl! Why, I am sure she had no great beauty. He can only have been after her ten thousand pounds!”

Elizabeth wilted in horror. Poor Mary King! Darcy had been hopeful that she could be found before talk escalated, but he had apparently underestimated the vigour and imagination of a town full of frivolous housewives with nothing better to do. Still, she was proud of him for trying to help a girl who could claim no connection to himself. He was good... and he was hers!

“Oh, Mama!” Jane interjected. “Pray, do not continue so! We do not know what may have happened.”

“Oh, yes, yes, we do!” Mrs Bennet cried with energy, darting a significant glance at the other married lady in the room. Mrs Gardiner hid her eyes in shame for the poor Miss King.

Kitty and Lydia had retired upstairs to carry on their own prattle uninterrupted. Mary plopped herself near Elizabeth, sharing a woeful glance with her next older sister. As Mrs Bennet continued her scandalized description of the town’s chatter, Elizabeth leaned near to Mary. “Georgiana?” she whispered.

Mary answered with a firm, satisfied expression. “Not even mentioned. Everyone is talking about how evil Mr Wickham is and how they all want to invite Colonel Fitzwilliam to dine. I daresay his evenings will be full while he remains in town.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and drew a long sigh. “At least there is that.” Pity for Mary King stole the rest of her speech. Of course, the girl ought to have known better than to run off with that man! Now, however, Elizabeth understood how easily a sheltered, innocent young gentlewoman could be deceived. Naivety was absolutely required of a young lady, rendering her utterly vulnerable to such an artful deceiver as Wickham. Her heart broke for the girl’s future. There would be little Darcy could do for her now, even if he could find her. Once a young lady’s ruin had been pronounced, it was nearly set in stone.

Elizabeth’s eyes were still down, but Mary stiffened beside her, drawing her attention back. She looked up and followed her sister’s gaze to the window. Her brow furrowed.

“Why, it’s Mr Bingley’s carriage!” Jane exclaimed. “But he was already here this morning….” Her tones mixed with confusion and pleasure, Jane rose to greet her betrothed.

It was not, however, Mr Bingley who dismounted the coach. The ladies watched in stunned fascination as first Mr Collins, then Miss Bingley descended from the box. At last, a stern-faced personage of great perceived importance stepped majestically down, making the humble yard of Longbourn shrink by her august presence.

“Who can that be?” wondered Mrs Bennet aloud. Propriety soon took hold, as it became apparent that their guests would naturally expect to be received. A flurry of activity ensued; books, bonnets, scraps of fabric and lace were snatched and stuffed out of sight in drawers, behind cupboards, and under cushions. In less than a minute, two decorous matrons and three proper maidens sat poised upon bulging cushions as they waited to receive their guests.

The elderly lady entered first, and her sharp gaze flew about the room’s occupants until it rested upon Elizabeth. “You!” She stalked closer, quite rudely ignoring everyone else. “Yes, it must be you. Just the sort to tempt him. Elizabeth Bennet, I presume?”

Elizabeth rose, composing a serene facade in the face of the lady’s brazen lack of civility. “I am, Madam. May I have the honour of knowing your name, Mrs…?”

Collins chose that moment to dart from behind the woman. “Cousin Elizabeth! You address a member of the nobility! This is Lady Catherine de Bourgh, my most honoured and esteemed patroness, mistress of Rosings Park and aunt of Mr Darcy himself! You must pay your respects!”

Elizabeth spared the most withering of glances for her cousin and a swift, curiously arched brow for Caroline Bingley, who remained near the door. Caroline met her eye with cool disregard, then looked away. She seemed to be both endorsing whatever the woman had come for and at the same time distancing herself from the great lady’s manners. In truth, Caroline would rather have been anywhere else. Still, the prospect of allowing Lady Catherine unrestrained freedom with her carriage, combined with the hope of witnessing the downfall of Eliza Bennet, had been enough to bind her to the lady’s company.

“Forgive me, my lady,” Elizabeth dipped her head politely as Lady Catherine seethed before her. She tipped her chin up again, meeting the peeress’ icy gaze with artless maidenly freedom. “May I present my mother, Mrs Bennet, my aunt Mrs Gardiner, and two of my sisters Jane and Mary… and my uncle Mr Gardiner,” she added as that gentleman entered the room.

Lady Catherine waved her introductions away. “I will speak with you in private, Miss Bennet!” Her tone was brittle and demanding.

Elizabeth glanced out the window at a cold rain beginning to pelt Caroline Bingley’s driver and horses, then traded brief eye contact with her uncle. She schooled her tones, forbidding herself to appear anything but genteel and refined for Darcy’s sake. She had watched Jane’s calm sweetness for years, after all. How hard could it be?

“Of course, my lady, we may retire to my father’s library. It is just through here,” she blithely walked past the black figure, extending her arm toward that room.

She paused as she moved by Caroline Bingley. “Miss Bingley, do, please invite your driver to take advantage of our stables. I should hate for your team to take a chill; it would be most terribly inconvenient.” Elizabeth thought she detected a flicker of triumph from Miss Bingley but would not allow herself the pleasure of witnessing how it was received by Lady Catherine.

“We shall not be here long enough for that,” Lady Catherine put in icily. She glowered back at both Elizabeth and Caroline.

Elizabeth pulled on a sweet smile and dipped her head. “As your ladyship pleases.” She was quite certain that Miss Bingley choked a little but spared her no attention to discern why as she led Lady Catherine out of the room. She opened the door to the library and allowed the lady to precede her.

“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason for my visit,” Lady Catherine began, bracing herself grandly upon her silver cane.

“Truly, your ladyship, I find myself quite unable to account for the honour of your call. I do trust you have had comfortable travels? I fear it is not the most pleasant time of year for such a long journey.”

Lady Catherine squinted in irritation. “I undertake what I must for my nephew’s sake, as I always do! Do not distract me from the point, Miss Bennet. A most alarming report came to me that you were expected to be united to my nephew, my own nephew Mr Darcy! Is that true?”

Elizabeth tipped her head, lifting her eyebrows in gentle confirmation. “Indeed, your ladyship, I had heard the same report.”

“Do not play coy with me! I demand satisfaction! My nephew must marry within his own sphere of consequence. Impossible that he should ally himself with one such as yourself! Now, tell me the truth—has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?”

Elizabeth’s cheek tugged slightly to the side. “Your ladyship has just declared it to be impossible,” she retorted obtusely.

“Impossible! It ought to be!” Lady Catherine fairly growled at the impertinence of this country upstart. “He knows the claims of duty, honour, and interest, and would not dare risk the displeasure of his entire family!”

Elizabeth tilted her head slightly in agreement. “As Mr Darcy is such a man of duty and cares a great deal about his family’s pleasure, I must wonder why your ladyship undertook such a journey. What can you hope to accomplish by coming to me?”

“Indecent girl! I will have this heinous report universally contradicted! You have obviously drawn him on with your arts and allurements. Oh, yes, I know all about your unchaperoned interludes! I even know how you attempted to draw on your cousin to an illicit liaison after you rejected him!”

“Your ladyship might refer to your parson’s lack of breeding and integrity, as ought to befit a single man residing in a house full of young ladies.” Elizabeth’s lips twitched, amused by the shocking memory despite herself.

“Aye, and so that is how you conduct yourself! What spell have you cast over my nephew? You hoped to entrap him, but I will not allow it! I will see this nonsense categorically denied and rejected for the foolishness it is. I will not see his reputation debased further!”

“As your ladyship’s arrival can only confirm the report, then an immediate denial of it would certainly harm rather than improve your nephew’s reputation as a gentleman.”

“A mere trifle to one of my nephew’s consequence! Men of his station are known to have their…” she sneered down her nose, “ dalliances ,” she finished distastefully. “He is born to the very best circles and cannot marry a woman who is not his equal.”

Elizabeth’s heart lurched as Lady Catherine touched upon her very own fears. She stretched her frame, standing somewhat taller and taking a little step closer. She kept her voice firm and steady. “He is a gentleman, and I am a gentleman’s daughter; therefore, we are equal.”

Lady Catherine’s eyes widened at Elizabeth’s subtle threatening manner. No one ever dared such presumption! “And those people I met just outside? Do not imagine I do not know who they are. They are in trade! Oh, yes, Miss Bennet, I know all about you! Your people are barely respectable; their only honour in society comes from their connections to your father’s meagre competence! Your little farm here is so small it can scarcely be called a gentleman’s estate, and allied with merchants besides.”

Elizabeth’s lip curved slightly at the corner. “It is a happy circumstance, is it not, your ladyship? Truly, the very prosperity of even Rosings Park must depend both upon farming and its connections to trade.”

Elizabeth could not have uttered a more provoking phrase. Lady Catherine’s face purpled, and her mouth dropped in open horror. “ Shameful girl! To make such insinuations! Do you know who I am?”

“Were you not Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park?” Elizabeth replied innocently.

“Insolent girl!” she spat. “We will come back to the point! This match you aspire to can never take place! Mr Darcy is engaged to my daughter! Now, what can you have to say?” Not one to be outdone, Lady Catherine took a great stride closer to Elizabeth, her fisted hands cocked behind her wiry frame in challenge.

Elizabeth smiled sweetly. “If he is truly so, why would your ladyship fear that he would engage himself to me? We have already established that he is a man of honour.”

Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. “Their arrangement has existed since their infancy! Darcy has yet to formalize it, but the united voices of their families have long desired it. I will not see nearly three decades of planning thrown over for a greedy pretender!”

“It must be very tragic to all of your ladyship’s sensibilities,” Elizabeth shook her head in sympathy, then brightened deliberately. “However, it is quite impossible for one of my paltry status to alleviate my lady’s hardship. Lowly as I am, I am determined to act in a manner to ensure my own happiness, as I must. If Mr Darcy had desired to marry Miss de Bourgh, surely he would already have done so long before I made his acquaintance.”

“Unfeeling, selfish girl!” the lady roared, stalking another stride closer and waving her cane threateningly. “You would ruin him in the eyes of the world! You are a brazen trollop! How is it you imposed upon him? I insist that you must confess all immediately! I am almost the nearest relation he has and entitled to know all of his concerns!”

Elizabeth dropped her voice to a hushed, flinty tone as if she were speaking to a rebellious child. “Your ladyship is not, however, entitled to know mine, nor is such behaviour as this likely to procure my cooperation.”

Lady Catherine screwed her mouth shut, flaring her nostrils. “ Harlot! You will tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him? ”

Elizabeth offered a glowing smile and dipped Her Ladyship a deep, respectful curtsey. “I am, your ladyship, and I am most pleased to make the acquaintance of my future family.” As she gathered her skirts, she strategically flicked her fingers, so the stunning emerald from Mr Darcy rotated to the fore, catching a ray of light.

Lady Catherine would have to have been blind not to notice it. As Elizabeth had expected, she was not so. The lady glared in abject loathing at her departed sister’s ring, curling her upper lip in abhorrence. “Very well! I shall know how to act!” She brushed past Elizabeth in a great huff, marching toward the door and pausing as if she expected someone to open it for her.

Abruptly she whirled back to face Elizabeth once more. Her tones sweetened with a sickening twist to her mouth. “I understand you have a particular fondness for my niece, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”

This Elizabeth refused to deny. “I have,” she responded levelly. “She is one of the most delightful people I have ever met.” She arched a brow meaningfully, wordlessly emphasizing the contrast between the engaging niece and the rather less-than-genial aunt.

“Just so.” Lady Catherine’s voice dropped menacingly as she shot another icy glare at her, then opened the door herself.

“Collins! We are leaving this disgraceful house! I take no leave; I offer no compliments to the hostess. They deserve no such regard!” The black skirts swished as the lady marched to the front door and hovered expectantly for Collins to perform his toadly obeisance.

Elizabeth emerged from the library just as Caroline Bingley rounded the corner into the entryway. Their eyes met briefly, Elizabeth holding the other’s gaze with cheerful archness. It was Caroline who backed down first, but not before Elizabeth caught the faintest glimmer of grudging respect in her eyes. Her gaze slid away, but she threw back her shoulders and flowed gracefully out the door after Lady Catherine.

Elizabeth released a pent-up breath and looked to her uncle, who had followed after Caroline. He furnished her with a commiserating half-smile. “I suppose you want to know why she called,” she offered unwillingly.

“No,” he answered, eyes twinkling. “Everyone heard it all. She has rather strident tones.”

“She does, that!” Elizabeth chuckled. What else was there to do but laugh? She was too spirited to cry, when she did truly have the assurances of the man she cared for. His aunt was a harassment. That was all. A most vexing one, to be sure! She dropped her gaze to her hands but glanced back up to her uncle when he placed a hand upon her shoulder.

“You would have enjoyed watching Mr Collins and Miss Bingley’s faces,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Your father would be very proud of you, Lizzy. I do wonder, however, why Mr Collins turned such a brilliant shade of red when Lady Catherine mentioned the time he stayed in this house.” He accompanied that comment with a sly wink.

A genuine smile, at last, broke through, and she drew a long breath of fresh air. “I imagine he would prefer not to have that known! Thank you for your support, Uncle. We must send word of this to Colonel Fitzwilliam at Netherfield.”

He nodded. “I will take care of it, Lizzy. Go to your mother. I fear she is near hysterics.”

R ichard Fitzwilliam swung off his horse—or, rather, Bingley’s horse—at Colonel Forster’s residence, tossing the reins to a young officer. He dusted his hat as he removed it, then passed cold fingers through his hair. A maid showed him to the colonel’s study, where he found his old comrade in the process of raising a glass to his lips.

“Fitzwilliam!” he rose to greet his guest. “I was not expecting you!”

“As I see. Drinking on duty, Forster?” Fitzwilliam’s mouth curved in a wry grin.

“Commanding officer’s prerogative. I have granted myself temporary leave,” Forster winked, then poured another glass. “I expect you’ve come about Wickham.”

“Either to pound him senseless if you have caught him or to sniff out his trail if you have not,” Richard confirmed.

“I am sorry to say I cannot help with the former, but I may have some little information on the latter. We thought at first he had gone to London, but the coach we were tracking did not yield his miserable carcass.”

“Miss King’s coach?”

“I see Darcy has filled you in. Yes, an interesting case, that. The young lady arrived in London but then disappeared again almost immediately. We questioned the coaching inn, but Wickham was not seen, and we have no idea where the young lady has gone to. It seems she slipped away unnoticed, which I can hardly credit. Fancy that, a young lady of means travelling alone and not attracting enough attention for one to gather where she has gone off to!”

Richard sat back against the cushions, his dark eyebrows working as he scrutinized his glass. “I wish to heaven Darcy had allowed me to accompany him. I know Wickham’s usual haunts better than he.”

“He may not have even gone to London,” Forster maintained. “We cannot find any trace of the scoundrel in that direction.”

“Hah! Wickham not attaching himself by the ribbons to an unprotected young heiress? Of course, he did. He must know you would have the dogs after him and is using a little extra caution, but I would wager my best horse he’ll be safely married to the poor thing and have her tucked securely somewhere out of the way.”

“She is not entirely unprotected. Her uncle was in London on some business. We sent word to him, and from what I hear, he is not a man to cross.”

Richard screwed his mouth into a grimace, ignoring the colonel’s comment. “And I, fool that I am, saw to it he had plenty of funds to fleece that poor girl!” He fisted his knuckles and plopped his chin on his hand, furious with himself.

Forster regarded him somewhat quizzically, but when Richard offered no more, he shrugged, and his expression cleared. “Well, Fitzwilliam, I would keep a sharp eye out if I were you. I would not be surprised if he did not go far. Blooming foolish of him to stick around here, but if he has it in for you and Darcy….” He shook his head and rose, signalling the end of their interview.

Richard’s shoulders drooped, defeated for the moment. He had counted on some reassurance from his old comrade, but none was forthcoming. He would just have to protect Georgiana the old-fashioned way—by keeping her in sight at all times.

D arcy shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. He had chosen to ride again for the speed it offered, but even he, consummate horseman that he was, did not relish quite so many hours in one day on horseback and in a pouring rain besides. He grimaced against his seizing muscles. Now he remembered why he had relegated the sorrel gelding to his London house. He was a fine-looking animal with flashy paces, most suitable for brief tours of the public lanes, but blasted uncomfortable to ride for more than half an hour. Darcy flexed his thighs against the awkward twist of his fancy park saddle—made, of course, to fit this wretched horse—cursing even that unfortunate item in his gnawing displeasure.

If he was correct in his guess, he had less than an hour to go on this uncomfortable journey. He could survive sopping, freezing cold and stiff saddles and rough horses if he could just find himself again in Elizabeth’s loving arms at the end of it all. How freely she had welcomed him that very morning in the sunrise! It was worth a lifetime of devotion just to be blessed with her sweet smile, the warm fragrance of her as he pressed her close to him at last. No other woman could fit so perfectly into his heart! It was as though she had always belonged there, and he had only needed to slough his cursed pride to be worthy of her.

A smile began to grow, despite the water droplets running down his face. No, he was still not worthy of her, but she had promised to have him regardless. His precious Elizabeth would be his forevermore! He pushed aside thoughts of his aunt’s schemes for the moment. He would not allow himself to dwell on his darker thoughts and fears while he yet struggled with his momentary hardships. If he could only get back to her warm embrace and assure himself of her continued attachment, all would be well.

He closed his eyes to blot out the rain, assuming his clumsy mount would manage to keep on all fours for the space of a few breaths, at least. He pictured his sweet Lizzy at Pemberley, filling his home with her laughter. Rooms long left shrouded and untouched would flood once more with the warmth and light of their mistress—and the master’s heart would fare even better!

Which would be her favourite walks and groves? With a twitching mouth, he determined that he would personally be there for each of them as she made up her mind—most particularly those which afforded some modicum of privacy! He burned with impatience to see his home through the eyes of the woman he so longed to please. He felt sure that the lively and authentic Elizabeth would appreciate Pemberley’s natural landscape and sprawling vistas. It was highly likely, he mused, that she might even introduce him to facets of his home that even he had yet to discover.

After their long walks, of course, he would have to see to it that his pearl was not over-tired. She must rest! Only his chambers would do, to be sure, where he could personally ascertain that she was comfortable and well coddled. Oh, yes, he had every intention of coddling her, and with his recent glimpses of her breathless response to his affections, he felt sure she would allow him to pamper her as he saw fit.

Her restrictive attire, made for public eyes, must, in the end, give way to her comfort. He would start with her shoes, inspecting and massaging her dainty feet to be sure that her exertions had not caused any discomfort. His fingers laced unconsciously through his horse’s mane as he next envisioned freeing her rebellious curls. Her shining hair, that perfect combination of twining ringlets and soft silkiness, would coil over his fingers as he kissed the elegant and forbidden column of her neck.

His arm, he would keep wound securely about her as he caressed her so that she might not suffer any danger from her weakening knees, as he had proudly begun to sense the day before. Oh, no, better yet, he would help her to recline comfortably on…. Good heavens . He gulped, his pulse skittering.

Indulging his fondest desires, he allowed his ardent fantasy to continue. Her confining stockings would obviously have to go, as well as the stiff garters holding them in place. What would her bared skin feel like beneath his fingertips? Would she permit him to wander freely, acquainting himself intimately with all her secrets, every hidden delight?

He smiled against the raindrops hovering on his lips. Oh, yes, his passionate Lizzy would put aside her modesty for him, and for him alone. He did not deserve her caress or her open reception of his advances, but his generous Elizabeth would lovingly bestow them, nonetheless.

His hands curled as he imagined sliding his fingers up beyond her… whatever remaining garments women wore—drawing aside the final barriers between them. What unparalleled beauty would be his to behold? He forgot to breathe for a moment as his mind kissed and blessed her sweet form in his dreams. Her sighs of pleasure almost reached his ears as he imagined lowering himself over her at last, forming a protective cocoon around her body with his arms and sharing her breath in the most intimate embrace afforded a man and a woman.

A cold splash over his knees jarred him at last from his pleasant reverie. His blasted horse lurched to the side as he tried to avoid a pocket of muddy water sprawling across the road. Grunting, Darcy vowed to himself he would sell the intractable beast as soon as may be. Squeezing his calves mercilessly, he urged the spoiled town-dwelling brute across the puddle. The horse made an awkward lunge, fearful of falling into the great black chasm of nothingness stretched before him. Chicken-heart! thought his owner sourly, all the more cross because his dreamy musings had been so dashedly interrupted.

Darcy sent the horse off once again, looking about himself. He was only five minutes nearer Elizabeth than he had been before, and it had long been quite dark. He shrugged his shoulders, chilled, and a fresh rivulet of water cascaded down his collar under his oilskin. He heaved a weary sigh. Bedraggled mop that he would appear, he intended to see his love first and ascertain that she was well before he made himself presentable at Netherfield.

C harlotte Lucas crouched sulkily on her bed, her arms wrapped about her knees and her scowling visage propped upon her thighs. Maria had visited her briefly in her confinement, but so far, her father felt it best that she heed Lady Catherine’s advice to solitary reflection.

The opinion, of course, was seconded by her affianced. Charlotte ground her teeth. She had endeavoured to regard Collins as tolerable because of the independence he offered, but even that highly desirable prize had started to pale. She began, like Elizabeth, to question if the respectability of a married woman was worth the price of her entire future.

There was a soft knock at the door, so light that Charlotte almost missed it in her self-pity. “Yes?” she answered.

The door pushed open to admit a furtive shape, then closed quickly. Charlotte blinked in some amazement. “Miss de Bourgh?”

Anne de Bourgh held a finger to her lips, glancing back at the door. “My mother is in the next room,” she whispered.

Charlotte stared curiously, slowly adjusting her slovenly seat upon the bed and inviting Miss de Bourgh to sit opposite her. Anne accepted, her face bright with her exertion. “Can I help you?” Charlotte ventured cautiously at last.

Anne nodded, smiling faintly and putting her hand to her breast as she caught her breath. “You can tell me about your friend.”