Page 18 of Tempted (Heart to Heart Collection #2)
Chapter 18
“S o. This is the creature my son unearthed from the wild frontier.”
The dowager countess sat enshrined at the far end of the massive drawing-room, so any supplicants would be required to tread the long path of meekness under her scrutiny. One hand rested on the glass handle of her cane, while the other stroked a ridiculous creature in her lap that was more feather duster than dog.
Elizabeth hoped her smile looked less nervous and artificial than it felt as she curtseyed before the great lady. “My name is Elizabeth Fitzwilliam, Your Ladyship, and this is my sister, Miss Jane Bennet. I believe you are already familiar with my cousin—”
“Speak when you are spoken to, girl,” the dowager commanded.
Elizabeth froze halfway out of her curtsey, her eyes still locked on the floor, and her ears burning. Ought she to answer with a respectful “Yes, my lady,” or keep entirely silent before the termagant?
Billy and Jane were flanking her, and each had gone dead still. Elizabeth would have instinctively sought a friendly face in such a moment—either to reassure her that the dowager was not really so fearsome as she seemed, or at least to share an amused roll of the eyes—but everyone was standing somewhere behind her. They, too, were quiet before the ageing noblewoman. There seemed nothing to do but to keep her eyes low and wait…
Except Elizabeth had never been skilled at genuflection and humility. Somehow, her defiant gaze lifted, and rather than fixing on that remarkable rug under her feet, she was now studying the withered countenance of the woman before her. Rheumy blue eyes, a large aquiline nose, and a thin mouth all conspired to give the woman the look of an old sorceress rather than a lady of dignity.
Yet, if one continued to search, there was something lurking behind those eyes that spoke not so much of cunning, but apprehension. Terror for old ways that were rapidly dying, perhaps, and Elizabeth herself must represent the harbinger of this dread. She was… fascinating to look upon.
“You are very free with your expressions, girl,” the dowager observed. “Are you not afraid of me?”
“I cannot think why I would be, my lady,” she answered with more tartness than she truly meant.
Beside her, Jane gasped, and Billy was pleading, “ No, no, no! ” under his breath. The dowager, however, did not appear immediately offended.
“Explain yourself, child,” she snapped.
“I mean only that I fear no harm you could do to me. If your desire is to impress me with the grandeur of your station, I am properly affected, but I am afraid you cannot inspire me with envy or excessive obeisance. I do, however, seek to do you honour as the mother of the man I married, and I am grateful to be received so warmly into his family—particularly in a time of uncertainty.”
Sometime during this little speech of hers, Elizabeth had heard a muttered oath from the young earl and perhaps even a whispered prayer of intercession from the countess, but she lacked the timidity—or perhaps the wisdom—to cut her words off before she had spoken them all. She was already repentant, but she could only wait for the insulted dowager to unleash her wrath and wonder how badly it would sting when it struck.
One blue eye quivered, and the wrinkled lips pursed and worked in thought. “Darcy…”
Mr Darcy was already standing near, much to Elizabeth’s surprise. When had he woven his way to her side, with his shoulder just before Jane as if he were deflecting the dowager’s fury to himself?
“Yes, Aunt,” Mr Darcy answered with a ready bow.
“Is she always so forward and impudent?”
Mr Darcy hesitated, with a faint glance at Elizabeth before that silly moustache of his twitched. “Frequently more so.”
“You are very foolhardy, Mrs Fitzwilliam,” the lady intoned. “One might think it your intent to give offence.”
“Not at all, my lady, but neither could I in good conscience present myself as deferential and submissive. I am afraid it is not in my nature, but if you can bear my poor manners, I would express my immense regard and my hope for cordial relations with the colonel’s family.”
The dowager ceased petting the mop of a dog and slowly extended her hand. “You are utterly shocking, child. I shudder to think of presenting you in Society—why, you will horrify and astonish every grand person in London within a fortnight, I am perfectly certain. I think I shall look forward to seeing it.”
Elizabeth’s brow edged upward. “My lady?”
“Girl, when I put out my hand thus, you are to kiss it,” the dowager sighed. “Come, now, you just finished vowing before me that you held me in no awe, and you certainly appear to be a frank and honest sort of girl. Are you, or are you not?”
Elizabeth smiled, then bent to caress the bejewelled hand offered to her. “I am.”
I t was quite late when the party from Pemberley returned. Georgiana disappeared into her rooms, having spoken hardly more than a dozen words to anyone all day.
Darcy watched her go in some chagrin—he would need to speak with her again before he departed for London, but he was beginning to fear his own interference might do more harm than good. Each time he had admonished her to improve her manner toward their guests, she withdrew even more. It was no good asking help of the countess, but perhaps Anne might be a voice Georgiana would heed.
Anne. He had nearly forgotten her, several times that day. Whether she had been in another room or seated beside him, so often he found his thoughts drifting in another direction, only to be brought crashing back to earth with the reminder of her presence.
If Anne had been offensive, rude, or even withdrawn like Georgiana, he could almost excuse himself for his absentmindedness, but she had not. Rather, she had been friendly with both Elizabeth and her sister, charming with the dowager and countess, and even tolerant of that foolish Collins fellow.
To himself, she had said little, but what did he expect her to say? Theirs was a relationship that required no polite chatter; they were no longer trying to acquaint themselves with each other, and they had the freedom of occasional privacy, should they require deeper conversation. Yet, despite so many opportunities that day, they had never gone off by themselves for any reason—certainly not to exchange clandestine caresses or improprieties. Not even to discuss plans for their wedding or argue about how long he would be away.
Miss Bennet curtseyed very prettily to him in the hall after the footman had removed her wrap. “Mr Darcy,” she said, “I want to thank you for such a lovely day. It was most kind of you to arrange the outing for us.”
“You are quite welcome, Miss Bennet,” he replied.
The lady turned, with a faint question in her eyes for her sister, but she went quietly up the stair. Elizabeth remained, watching after her.
“I would have to echo the sentiment,” she told him. “Today was… a relief.”
“A relief? How so?” He extended his hand as he spoke, inviting her to a sitting room for a few moments before she retired. She followed without hesitation.
“Only that I had fretted over it so long. I had wondered before why I was never invited to Matlock, despite the countess’s apparent welcome. I assumed I was a scandal… or a disappointment.”
“Elizabeth—” He sat in the chair opposite hers and leaned forward. “I hope you will never fear that again. Whatever else she is—and she is a great deal—the dowager is also a grieving mother and a fairly recent widow.”
“I know.” She turned her chin to the side and stroked one satin glove over the other. “I ought not to have spoken as I did. It was wrong of me.”
“You won her over, though.”
She chuckled; shy pleasure evident in her cheeks. “I still cannot believe she did not cast me out of the house!”
“No.” He laughed. “I rather wondered if it would go as it did, for I remember my aunt in better days. She was always one to say or do something to cause whispers. It was she who managed the estate and the family coffers, you know. It was she who arranged that marriage between Reginald and Sheila—not her husband. And, it was she who first made the suggestion that I could do something to protect Richard from being sent off to war. That was what sent him to Wyoming in the first place.”
Elizabeth’s eyes darkened. “I do not understand. What influence did you have?”
“The horses, of course. I was one of the investors, and General Houghton, who oversees the horse buyers, is an old friend. I asked for Richard to be stationed—Elizabeth?”
She got hastily to her feet and began pacing the room. “You? It was you who contracted with the local outfit?”
“Not me personally, no. A representative hired the outfit, but we financed the affair—myself and others.”
“But you were responsible, you—”
“Responsible for what?” he asked.
“For all of it! For… for the Brysons’ wealth, for my father’s long hard days shoeing remounts, for Richard coming all that way, just to drag innocent animals off to war—”
“Elizabeth.” He rose to meet her and caught her fretful hands, stilling her and forcing her to look at him. “If I have done wrong, I am perfectly ignorant of how. It was a service to my country and no small service to my family. You cannot hold me accountable for every unseen result of it.”
“But the results were not unseen, were they?” she retorted. “You do not know what came of my town, the people there, as a consequence of your ‘investment.’”
“I was told it was a boon for the local economy. That no town would have existed at all, and that the rail scarcely even stopped there before. Is that not true?”
Her ire seemed to wear out. She shook her head with a mild snort and let her hands fall from his, then slowly sank back into her seat. “I suppose it is true, but it does not follow that everything your soldiers brought was good.”
“What is that supposed to mean? Do you mean to say they conducted themselves ill?”
“Not… specifically. Not most of them. It was others who were raised above what might be considered just.” Her brow pinched, and she shook her head. “Please, I do not wish to discuss it.”
He sighed and gazed at the floor. They were silent for some minutes, until each began to fidget, and Darcy thought she looked as though she would go. “This is not how I was hoping our last conversation would proceed,” he said at last.
She looked up. “Last conversation? But you do not leave for London for two more days.”
“Yes, and during those days, I will be thoroughly occupied with other matters. Even if I do have a minute or two here and there, I do not expect the pleasure of private conversation. Matters may change for you as well, for now that you have been introduced to the dowager and the earl, you may be spending more time at Matlock or entertaining them here.”
She toyed with the fingers of her gloves, not meeting his eye.
“I would not be surprised,” he continued, “if they invite you to remove to Matlock while I am away.”
“Would you like that, sir?” she murmured.
“Why would you ask that?”
She shook her head, and her hand made a slight gesture of uncertainty.
“Well,” he replied, “to answer your question… yes. I would be pleased because the family’s welcome and acceptance of you can only improve your prospects. If you think I would not be sorry to see you go…”
She raised her head and watched him.
“I would,” he finished in a husky voice. “But I would not stand in the way of your pleasure.”
She smiled, but it did not touch her eyes. “You have been exceedingly kind, William. My sister and I—we appreciate it more than you can know.”
“About her… I had a letter from my friend Bingley just the other day. He proposed coming north later this month on business and asked if he might call. I will be sorry to miss him, but I did reply that he was welcome to break his journey here, or to stay on for as long as he chose. But, if it would be… inadvisable, I could always call him off.”
She stroked one satin glove over the other, a warm blush staining her cheeks. “I believe… my sister would be pleased to meet him again.”
“And what of you?”
“Hmm?” She rolled her head upright once more, and her gaze focused on his face. “What about me?”
“What… what are your expectations, while I am away?”
She swallowed, and her eyes drifted up and to the left. “I am just waiting. Hoping. There is nothing else I can do.”
Darcy frowned and nodded slowly. “Yes. I pray to have some word—something, at least, we can be sure of. This not knowing is enough to drive one mad.”
Her look had wandered—far-away and dreamlike were her eyes as her lips flickered into something like a smile of agreement. He watched her for a moment—the soft breath rising her bosom, the faintest reddish highlights in her hair catching the glow from the fire, the way her throat trembled. Heat spread through his core—a tenderness he ached to express. An image lanced unbidden through his thoughts—tracing her velvet cheek with his own, counting each sweet freckle with his lips, testing the softness of her hair between his fingers.
His heart gave a great seizure, and he clasped his hand over his eyes. Good God! It was not blasphemy, for he truly would need divine help to take captive each wayward thought, where she was concerned.
His sudden lurch had drawn her notice, and she stretched and blinked as if rousing from a reverie. “I suppose I ought to go up to bed.” She stood, and Darcy was on his feet just after her.
“Will you rest easily tonight?” he asked.
“If you are asking whether I will experience another nightmare—” She lifted her chin to look into his eyes. “I hope not, but I cannot be sure.”
“What of some light amusement before you try to sleep?” he heard himself offering. “A book, perhaps, or… what of a round of chess? We never did have that rematch.”
“Oh, no, both require more critical thinking than I am capable of, I am afraid. If I were to seek something to lighten my frame of mind, it would be something simpler… something more physical.”
“Physical?” He quirked a brow, both thrilling to and quailing from the shiver that rocked his inner being. “Such as?”
She looked conscious, then utterly guilty, and confessed. “Well, the rumours are true. Occasionally, I slip into the billiards room when I cannot sleep.”
“My, my,” he said. “Playing by yourself? Whatever are we to do with you, Elizabeth? Come, at least take on an opponent.”
Her teeth showed playfully. “I caution you, sir, for you may not enjoy the match.”
“Not enjoy it?” He led her from the room, his hand unconsciously falling at her waist as he guided her to the door. “How is that even possible?”
She turned her chin up to whisper mischievously into his ear. “Because I cheat.”