Page 27 of Tempted (Heart to Heart Collection #2)
Chapter 27
Wyoming May 1900
F itzwilliam stifled a yawn and glanced at his pocket watch. The sheriff had been closeted with the mayor—who was firmly on Miss Elizabeth’s side—and Mr Silas Bryson at the jail for hours, and it was now nearly dawn. Mr Bennet had arrived some while ago, looking haggard and grey. He spoke not a word of remonstrance, but merely took his daughter’s hand and held it as he sat beside her, his eyes moist.
Mrs Bennet heard the news with the very greatest anguish, and after an hour of wringing her hands and wailing to all about the injustice of the circumstances and her daughter’s impetuous, unladylike propensities, she was sent back to the house “to rest.” Mary escorted her mother home, as well as Kitty and Lydia—the latter having been discovered hiding inside the warehouse, her pockets full of liquorice candies.
Mr Gardiner had questioned Lydia rather closely, demanding the truth of her whereabouts and destination all that evening. Richard overheard much of their conversation—as did everyone else—and there could be no doubt that Lydia had, indeed, intended some sort of assignation with Bryson. The foolish girl! Likely, she thought it would amount to nothing more than a few stolen kisses and a flirtation! Richard snorted in approval when Lydia was stripped of all her privileges and sent home with the promise that her elder sisters would lock her in her bedroom until their uncle returned.
That still left the problem of Miss Elizabeth. A noble spitfire, that one! Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and doing nothing more than watching out for that empty-headed sister of hers. She had not even gone alone, so he could not find her guilty of failing to take precautions. She was simply at the bulls-eye of the cannon called Bad Luck.
She would be branded a harlot by some. Despite what he had assured them all, he could see it in her eyes—she knew the truth. Unfair as it was, there would be plenty in town who would believe her a seductress who changed her mind at the last moment. They would call her a whore… and a murderess.
There must be something more he could do to help her!
Richard checked his heart. No, he was not in love with Elizabeth Bennet, but a powerful protective instinct flourished there. He fancied her, certainly. Respect was probably a better description. She was intelligent, practical, and courageous, as well as sweet in all the ways a woman ought to be. If he were the sort of man to think of marriage and peaceful domesticity, such a woman would make a delightful partner, American or no.
He watched her now, shaking her head at some words from her father and casting hollow eyes about the room. Mrs Gardiner had supported Jane Bennet for as long as the latter could bear up, but at last, that good lady declared that if the sheriff wanted Jane’s statement, he would have to wait until her head had recovered. She was taking her niece to bed. It was now only Elizabeth left on the makeshift bench with three men waiting on her.
What the devil was he doing there? It was not as if he could help her. He was no relation who could ease her fears or offer protection. Her father was making a valiant effort at the former, while her uncle was the best man for the latter task. So, what were his intentions?
He could speak with the sheriff, he reasoned. He was an officer under an oath of service himself, and could provide sound advice, if it were asked… which it would probably not be. He could be a neutral character witness, as his associations had brought him regularly into company with both the accused and the victim.
He frowned. Which, he wondered, would be labelled as which?
Mr Gardiner had been leaning against a counter, but he straightened and approached. “Lizzy, I think your aunt had the right of it. If the sheriff wanted you right away, he would have spoken with you already. You should go back to the house with your father. The store… well, no doubt we will have customers soon, and when word gets out… it is better that you go home.”
“I would not object to that, Uncle.” She dug her fingers into her eyes, scrubbed her face and seemed to shake herself. When she opened her eyes again, they were on him. “Colonel, I thank you for staying. Your confidence and assurances are more helpful than you can know.”
He bowed slightly. “I wish I could do more at present, Miss Elizabeth.”
Her lips tightened in an empty smile. Richard winced as he recognised that look—the look of one who had drawn first blood, and would forever after be haunted by it. He had seen that expression often enough, but it was particularly wrenching in a woman’s face.
“Come, Lizzy.” Mr Bennet wrapped an arm around his daughter and pulled her to her feet. As they passed by, both father and daughter stopped to offer one parting gratitude. Bennet nodded gravely, swallowing and trembling as he held his daughter’s shoulders. Elizabeth still looked numb, but there was a conscious fragility in the way she blinked and offered a false smile that told him more than words ever could. She might be dazed and exhausted, needing rest more than his paltry vocabulary could ever describe, but there would be none for her.
He watched them walk away, then exchanged looks with Mr Gardiner.
“Our Lizzy is strong, Colonel.” Mr Gardiner nodded emphatically, more to himself than any other, and repeated, “Yes, she is strong. She has a good heart, so she is naturally grieved by it all, but she is a reasonable girl, and a brave one. She will come out of this as well as any can.”
Richard narrowed his eyes, focusing on some distant thing beyond his vision. “Not by herself, she will not.”
Matlock November 1900
“I t is the grief of the thing,” the dowager confided to him afterwards when Darcy escorted her to her sitting room. “I thought it might be so, and it is only to be expected, after all. The poor girl is still mourning her husband, and here we are talking of weddings.”
“Has she been like this often?” he asked.
“Oh, it comes and goes. What I like about her is she carries on her grieving in private and puts on a sanguine face in company. I am a generous-minded woman, Darcy, so do not think I expect her to bottle up all her feelings like a born and bred English girl. Goodness knows, I have shed a tear or two for my own sorrows, but one never knows what to say when someone else is weeping all the time, and it is so much more comfortable when she will be cheerful now and again.”
“All the same, perhaps we oughtn’t to ask her to participate in matters that make her uncomfortable.”
“What, and leave her to sulk alone in her rooms?” his aunt scoffed. “This is why a man should never try to order things. She will survive well enough, and I daresay a bit of discomfort does her good if it gets her among people.”
He pressed his lips together. “I submit to your wisdom, Aunt, but I reserve the right to my own observations.”
The dowager nodded gravely. “You do that, Darcy, and then tell me when you have decided I am correct. Here,” she said to the countess, who had just entered the room, “Darcy seems to think we ask too much of your new sister. I think he is being foolish, and I have told him as much.”
“Darcy is thinking of his own feelings and considering that others may be as gloomy as himself,” the countess dismissed him. “Better than most men, who like to pretend emotions do not exist at all, but really, Darcy, you must not smother the girl. She can stand perfectly well on her own.”
“I have confessed that I may not understand as you do, but Mrs Fitzwilliam… she bears more than she will say.”
“Naturally, what woman will tell all the things on her heart? Especially to a man! You really are a dear, Darcy, but you must see that we are far better suited to discovering what is best for her.”
Darcy clenched his teeth at her condescension but forced himself to make a gentle answer. She meant well, after all, and it would certainly not do for anyone to suspect that he was privy to some secret of Elizabeth’s. “All I am trying to say is that Mrs Fitzwilliam’s manner earlier was quite altered from the lady I have known.”
“Of course, it is, because nearly all the time she was at Pemberley, she held out hope for her husband’s return. We have had our share of tears, have we not, my lady? But enough of that now, for Elizabeth herself would be embarrassed if she knew we were speaking of her so. Now, Darcy, there is something else, something rather pressing we must discuss, so let us have no more of this.”
“And that is?”
“Why, you are to ask me about the great surprise Anne has for you, of course.”
He frowned. “Surprise? Did I know I was to ask about a surprise?”
“Naturally, no!” the countess laughed. “But now you know, therefore you may ask.”
“But that is a contradiction, for if it is meant to be a surprise, would I not spoil it if I asked?”
“Oh, you ought to know better than that. The entire point of a surprise is that it should be spoiled. Why, what fun would it be to not know what is in the offing? The very idea!”
He sighed patiently. “Am I to understand this spoiling is with Anne’s blessing?”
“Of course, it is. How else should you know the proper attire to pack?”
“Ah, so she has plans for some trip.”
The countess looked near to bursting with glee. “There, you have it! She has secured passage for two persons—I shall let you guess who they are—on board the Nomadic to South America next summer!”
“South America! Whatever for?”
“Why, Darcy! Can you be so impossible? It is a wedding tour!”
“But she has never spoken of going there. What does she wish to see in South America?”
“Well, I would imagine her husband, if she can get him on the ship. Now, Darcy, do not be a stick in the mud. You will need to have suitable attire, so Anne has provided some recommendations. Here is a list for you to give your tailor, and you must have some proper hats. There, I have done my duty, and you can thank me later.”
“I will thank you now.”
Lady Matlock beamed and patted his cheek as if he were her little boy. “But you do not mean it, do you? Never mind, Darcy, I will accept your thanks, and with good grace. Be sure to act surprised when Anne gives you the news. Now, go on with you, you must have better things to do before it is time to dress for dinner.”
A s it happened, he had several better things to do, but to his shame, a private interlude with Anne had not been among them. She drew him aside, however, just as he had been casually seeking out Georgiana and the Bennet sisters in the music room.
“My dear,” she said with an extended hand. “I was hoping to speak with you alone.”
The others stared, then pointedly looked away as he smiled tightly. Was it his imagination, or did Elizabeth flinch as she averted her eyes?
“Of course, Anne.” He followed her to the library, a tendril of worry curling in his stomach. Hopefully, it was nothing but more talk of this change of plans to South America. “What troubles you, my dear?” he asked after the door closed.
“Troubles me? Nothing at all, but it occurs to me that we have hardly exchanged five words today.”
“You seemed busy.”
“Oh, that was nothing. Will you not kiss me, Darcy?”
“If you wish,” he replied neutrally.
She came near and tipped up her cheek, and he dutifully rendered his offering. No passion sparked. No desire rumbled in the pit of his being. Not that it ever had—any affection between them had always felt more like the kinship of brother and sister. But at least I do have feelings for her , he consoled himself. He liked Anne. He always had, although sometimes he had to remind himself of that fact.
“How have you been keeping, my dear?” she asked lightly. “I thought I would have seen a bit more of you since you came back. But, I do not need constant assurance of your devotion. A pretty thing that would be!” she chuckled. “Truly, though, we ought to show some little eagerness for our nuptials, oughtn’t we?”
He dipped his head. “It is only natural. Forgive me, Anne, I will be everything an earnest bridegroom should. If I have made you unhappy, I apologise.”
“Oh, it is no matter,” she said with a lazy wave of her hand. “I suppose we need not try to learn one another’s character as a newly courting couple. No, what I wanted to ask you was a favour, really.”
He gestured for her to take a seat. “Anything, you know that.”
She smiled and touched his hand. “I do. I was thinking of our American friends, you see. Now that we know something of how matters lie, is it not time to start thinking of their future?”
His brow creased as he lowered himself beside her.
“What do you have in mind? The earl has extended his protection to all three on behalf of his brother. Mrs Fitzwilliam, he means to provide for the rest of her life, if need be. Very generous, I would say, for his father would not have done half so much, even though they were lawful kin.”
“Oh, I do not mean that. Elizabeth shall get on well enough, I daresay. It would surprise me if she did not catch someone’s eye and stay in England indefinitely, but do not count on her remaining under the earl’s protection, or even nearby.”
Darcy shifted. “Why do you think that?”
“Oh, it is her manner. I think she will wish to put some distance between herself and Richard’s family, and why not, if you all remind her of her sorrows?”
He nodded gravely, this new notion darkening his thoughts more than he cared to confess. “Whatever pleases her best.”
“Indeed. But what of the others? Is there not something we can do for them?”
“Well,” he sighed, “unless I am mistaken, Miss Bennet has formed her own connections here.”
“Mr Bingley is impatient!” she exclaimed. “But do you not disapprove of such a connection?”
“How could I disapprove of my friend seeking happiness with an unaffected creature such as Miss Bennet? I did advise him it was not a prudent marriage in terms of social or financial considerations, but his priorities are elsewhere, and I do not fault him for it.”
Anne looked thoughtful, then made a dismissive face. “Well, that settles the ladies and leaves only Mr Collins. Privately, Darcy, I fear he is not long for his role as a tutor.”
Darcy frowned. “I am hardly surprised, for he has neither the credentials nor the sternness necessary. I believe the countess brought him on mostly for her own pleasure and, naturally, to show a bit of generosity to the fellow, but what would you have me do for him?”
“Well, he had undertaken the studies of a parson, and why not? Yes, I think it would do perfectly for him, for he has declared his interest in the Church of England.”
“Anne, I do not understand. What are you asking?”
“Why, to sponsor him in studying for the Church, of course, so he may one day receive an appointment. You have Kympton coming vacant one day, do you not?”
“Anne—” he shook his head and laughed in disbelief. “It is not that simple! He is not even a subject of the Crown. What you ask is… probably nothing short of heroic.”
“That, my dear, is why I asked you .” She kissed his cheek and rose. “I knew you would manage it, Darcy. I shall see you at dinner, yes?”
E lizabeth and Jane came from their rooms almost the same moment for dinner. They naturally fell into step beside each other until a door closed behind them. Down the hall, from another of the guest bedrooms, strode Mr Darcy in full dinner regalia.
“Good evening,” he greeted them cheerfully. “I see I am just in time to walk you both down.”
Elizabeth swallowed. She tried—heaven knew she tried—not to be captured by the powerful refinement of his features, the easy assurance of his bearing, or the raw allure of his presence. Even harder to withstand was the soft place behind that bold smile, the one he seemed to keep in reserve just for her.
She was too long lost. Her heart scrambled into her throat as she curled her arm around his, letting her long glove lay over his black sleeve. He was like honey—the forbidden, life-giving nectar for which King Saul’s son of old had broken faith. “See how my eyes were brightened,” he had said, and Elizabeth bore that in her conscience each time this man stepped into her thoughts.
He was speaking with Jane now, trying with all his dear, awkward heart to pay her a compliment on her looks without causing embarrassment for either of them. Did he speak more freely to Anne de Bourgh when they were alone? Was he easy and charming? Witty and funny, as he had been with herself? Or was he the romantic sort, bestowing heart-shattering kisses and holding his beloved close to his chest, his face nestling in her hair? Something twisted in Elizabeth’s belly—something old as the world itself, and no less wretched.
“And how are you this evening, Elizabeth?” he asked, turning to her at last. His expression sobered when she looked up at him.
“Are you ill? Perhaps some wine?”
She felt like a hare, staring and frozen just before the wolf closes his teeth, but she could not turn her gaze. See how my eyes were brightened…
“Elizabeth?” He stopped them all, his arm tugging on hers ever so subtly. “We need not go down to dinner if you are unwell. Shall I call your maid?”
Jane was peering around him now, a question on her lips she did not voice.
“Oh, I… no, I am well enough.” She set her teeth and refused to look at him again. “We should not keep everyone waiting.”
A faint reluctance played itself through his arm. He was still watching her in that intoxicating way he had—the one he tried to conceal from the world, as if others might mock his gentleness. The way he could penetrate, peel back and lay bare all her defences with that one searching look, it was as exhilarating as it was painful. Was there any greater curse? To be undone and found out by the very one who held her in his thrall? She heard the moment his breathing changed rhythm, felt the inviting flex of his forearm, and allowed him to draw her near.
“You will say something if you wish to retire, will you not?” he asked in a low voice. “I would not have you overtaxing yourself merely to please others.”
“I daresay I will be well enough,” she replied, more sharply than she had intended.
He spared her one more glance—this one she could almost call wounded—and the trio said no more until they had gained the dining room. He immediately helped Jane to a seat, then seemed to indicate that he meant for them to sit as they had walked—with him in the centre and Elizabeth on his right. He drew out the chair for Elizabeth, and she glanced nervously at the countess and dowager, already seated at the far end of the table. They were paying her little notice, and she cautiously lowered herself into the coveted seat at William’s side. Scarcely had the fabric of her skirt brushed the chair, however, when she popped up like a spring as Anne de Bourgh entered the room, with Billy trailing behind.
“Yes, yes, I understand it is quite the thing, Miss de Bourgh,” he was saying, his hands animating his words. “The photograph I saw in the Daily Mail depicted a lady of fashion and sophistication, and she was looking over the landscape of Burma through a glass. It struck my fancy, indeed, it did, for I thought if ladies are now free to venture to such a far-flung place, why, what is not within their grasp?”
“Truly, Mr Collins,” she answered, her countenance as serene and unaffected as always. Elizabeth never failed to marvel how a woman of such well-heeled circles and exotic tastes could bear with Billy’s ramblings, but somehow, she endured him with grace—or at least, good manners.
“I’ve a book named Hints to Lady Travellers ,” Miss de Bourgh continued, “just published last year, which contains all variety of sound advice and precautions, and I think it indispensable. Perfectly ridiculous that anyone should now say they do not possess the means or—” She broke off and tilted her head curiously when Elizabeth stepped away from the seat beside Mr Darcy.
“Perhaps you would like to sit with your betrothed?” Elizabeth offered. “I can be just as comfortable elsewhere.”
“Ah, you are very kind, Mrs Fitzwilliam,” she agreed airily.
Elizabeth backed away, allowing the other woman a clear path to the seat. For an instant—she could not be sure, because she refused to meet his eyes—but for a second, she could have sworn that Mr Darcy’s expression flashed a hint of dismay. But then, whatever she thought she perceived vanished, and he turned to help Miss de Bourgh. He was perfectly gallant with her, everything a gentleman ought to be with his affianced, so Elizabeth dismissed her scandalous thought as only a hint of rebellious wistfulness.
“Lizzy, you will not believe it,” Billy whispered loudly as she took the seat beside him. “Miss de Bourgh and the countess both complimented me on my moustache!”
Elizabeth cocked a cynical eye at the woolly growth on her cousin’s lip. “I daresay it is darker these few days,” she admitted.
“And thicker. Why, you would never know that I had just—”
Elizabeth nudged him with her foot. “Not now,” she hissed out of the side of her mouth. She lay her hands neatly in her lap and made a beatific smile at the other diners. Mr Darcy’s eyes, with those maddeningly dark and thick lashes, twitched faintly in curiosity, but she did not dare make him any answer.
Billy’s features reddened, and he tried to affect a sober and correct manner, but he could not stop himself from a final, unconscious smoothing of that ridiculous facial hair. Elizabeth would have been mortified over her cousin’s lapse of manners at the earl’s table, but it was far more humiliating to watch Miss de Bourgh, across from her, calling Mr Darcy her “dear.”