Page 28 of Tempted (Heart to Heart Collection #2)
Chapter 28
E lizabeth continued to snub him all evening, and he could make no sense of it. Had she not been pleased to see him? Had she not warmed so prettily whenever he spoke to her or drew near to her? But something had happened between afternoon and evening, and she now seemed nervous, and even displeased to be in his company.
No one else appeared ill at ease. His eye swept the dining room, and later the drawing-room when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, and he and Elizabeth appeared to be the only persons out of sorts. Had no one noticed? Did no one else see her irregular complexion, her shifting eyes, and fidgeting hands?
He had looked for her immediately when he came into the drawing-room, wondering if perhaps dinner had settled her, but one glance at her dilated eyes and tight jaw warned him off. He accepted the next seat available, beside Anne.
The one consolation was that Georgiana appeared to have had a change of heart about Elizabeth. Perhaps the fact that they were now in each other’s confidence, holding delicate knowledge of one another in trust, had broken down that thorny hedge. Georgiana spoke to Elizabeth more than anyone else as coffee was served, and the two almost appeared friendly towards each other.
“Have you been practising your music, Elizabeth?” he heard Georgiana ask.
“I have,” Elizabeth replied, “but if it is true that practice produces perfection, then I must observe that imperfect repetition produces flawed habits.”
“Oh, that will not do at all,” Georgiana decided. “Are you not using the metronome?”
That produced the first laugh from Elizabeth all evening. “I have enough difficulty imitating a fluent tune without keeping time with that infernal contraption. I constantly feel the need to catch up!”
“Then you must have someone count the measures for you, as I did before. A person can stop for you whenever necessary.”
“I second Georgiana’s advice,” Lady Matlock agreed, making Darcy aware of the fact that he was no longer the only one attending the conversation. “Why, Anne and I would always be ready to sit with you.”
“Not I,” Anne pardoned herself. “Not that I would discourage you, Mrs Fitzwilliam, for no excellence is to be attained without constant practice, but I never learned to play myself and could not possibly count for you.”
“But you have such exquisite taste,” the countess protested. “Had you learned, you would have been without your equal.”
“No doubt it is true,” Anne laughed. “Nevertheless, I am afraid I can be of no help to Mrs Fitzwilliam’s plight.”
Darcy could not help flinching at her tone. It had never bothered him before, her careless and even facetious aplomb that was so much a piece of the society in which she moved. It was only a light-hearted jest, and others understood Anne’s words in the spirit they were intended. Now, though, hearing and seeing her through Elizabeth’s fiercely controlled, yet obviously visceral reactions, all he could see of Anne was an arrogance he found highly inappropriate.
Elizabeth’s lips pulled tight in a forced smile. “It is no matter, for I am afraid I require more instruction than that. I have yet to master the trick of making my right hand perform while my left hand is thinking.”
Georgiana, seated nearest Elizabeth, verily gaped. “It is simple counting, like I said. Do you still find it difficult? Well, the answer is plain. Just master one hand at a time before attempting them together.”
“Oh, I have tried that. I can accomplish one at a time passably well, but synchronising the two clefs together is beyond my abilities. I am afraid I am a lost cause, Miss Darcy. Perhaps I ought to have asked you to teach me to paint instead.”
“I have the perfect notion, Georgiana,” cried the countess. “Sit beside our Elizabeth and play the lower notes for her. We could all do with some entertainment, and you are among friends here, my dear.”
Elizabeth cast blushing eyes around the room, slowing pleadingly when they passed over Jane and then Darcy himself. “I-I’m not sure everyone wishes to hear—”
“Nonsense! No one will mock you. I always say it is far better to applaud one who is brave enough to step to the instrument than to criticise what one cannot do oneself.”
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to the floor, and she clenched her hands on the sofa cushion for a second. “In that case, I cannot refuse.”
Georgiana leapt up with an eagerness that surprised him. “Have you your music? You play the right hand, and I shall play the left. The melody is the soul of that piece, and I know you will fall into it. Ah, here it is. Now, three beats to the measure, begin on the third count. One and two and…”
Darcy crossed his legs and leaned back, preparing to pity unhappy Elizabeth for being forced into something she did not desire. Only too late, he scolded himself for never speaking in her defence, but even as he recognised his failure, he confessed the reason for it. Secretly, he longed to hear her, to watch her, and to feast his mind and soul on her without incurring the notice of others.
She held her breath as she set her fingers on the keys, and for an instant— did he imagine it? —she flicked her eyes to him. Then her head bowed, and the first soft notes echoed. Georgiana’s voice fell quiet, and there was only the light spirit of song between them.
They made a pretty picture together; golden and chestnut heads bobbing in time over the keys, one figure lithe and the other shapely, swaying together in synchrony. Within the first three measures, Darcy’s worry evaporated. He laced his fingers together and would have closed his eyes to drink it all in, but they refused to darken while she illuminated them.
He sensed the trance as it came upon him, but welcomed the languorous mist that seemed to sparkle and coalesce around his mind. His face grew warm with the guilty pleasure of it, and he could almost fancy that a dream washed over him, wholly unbidden. It was summer bonnets and wildflower-studded meadows, lazy days of sunshine and simple plaid blankets spread under a twilight sky. It was a warm hand clasped in his own, tugging him towards one more adventure, one more moment of… of everything .
And then, the magic went cold.
Everyone was clapping politely, and Elizabeth was shakily rising from the piano stool. “Brava, my dear!” the countess applauded. “I daresay with a bit more practice, you will play beautifully!”
Elizabeth turned to Georgiana. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I fear it was still quite choppy. I shall never have your light touch.”
“But it was not bad,” Georgiana comforted her. “Truly, a great improvement. We should do this again.”
Elizabeth nodded briskly as a sparkle of triumph finally glowed from within. Accidental or not, Darcy could not decide, but she looked directly at him, and something in that instant of connection seemed to beg his approval.
Others might have heard a struggling learner with imperfect timing or expression, but Darcy had only heard his own heartbeat. He smiled back at her unreservedly, bowing his head and offering gentle applause as the others did, but when she looked away, a melancholy sigh split him.
What the devil was he to do now?
“J ane, you are imagining things.” Elizabeth, her hands fisted and her cheeks on fire, hastened into her bedroom from their shared sitting room and shook her head when Margaret offered to help her undress.
Jane followed her insistently. “I do not think I am. I am not sure if anyone else saw, but I did.”
Elizabeth was already bent over, ripping off her stocking, and she snapped her head back up. “What was there to see?”
“The way Mr Darcy was looking at you… and the way you were looking back at him.”
Elizabeth scoffed and tugged at her other stocking. “Jane, I have no attachment to Mr Darcy. I’ve done nothing improper, and neither has he.”
“I am not saying you have, Lizzy, but do you not understand? He is betrothed. He belongs to another!”
Elizabeth flung the stockings across the room. “ I know! Do you think I could not know that? Do you honestly believe I do not torment myself with that knowledge day and night?”
Jane paled. “It has gone that far, then? Why have you done nothing?”
“What am I to do?” Elizabeth exploded. “What can you do, when the one person who delights your heart is the very person you cannot have?”
“Elizabeth, you could not have had any other man, either. You married Richard.”
“Richard is dead! I know you think me awful, but it is no worse than I think of myself. I need none of your lectures, Jane, not now. I have berated myself for months, for not loving Richard better and for obsessing over a good and honest man who has only ever been a friend to me.”
“Obsessing! Oh, Lizzy, you cannot be serious. You must go somewhere—somewhere far away!”
“I know, Jane. Do not blame Mr Darcy, for he has done nothing wrong.” Elizabeth crashed down on the bed, her face in her hands.
Jane sank beside her and hesitantly patted her shoulder. “I do not blame him, any more than I blame you, but Lizzy, this is very serious. If you think the attractions are all on your side, you are deceiving yourself. I saw the way he was watching you—the way he has watched you. I see the way he speaks to you, the way he cares for you, and I do not know how anyone else could not.”
Elizabeth sniffed. “What do you want me to do? Where can I go? I have nothing—I am nothing without the kindness of this family.”
“And you will tear them apart if you stay.”
Elizabeth choked on a sob and put the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I don’t know what to do! I never meant to stay here. I still do not wish to stay long—I am hoping to be gone and on my own by next summer.”
Jane shook her head. “That is far too long.”
“But he is getting married! He will be away in Europe, or wherever Miss de Bourgh means to go!”
“Elizabeth, the longer you stay, the more of his heart you take. It is not fair to him. It is not fair to Miss de Bourgh, and…”
“It is not fair to Richard,” Elizabeth finished miserably.
“I meant to say, ‘to you,’ but, yes, I suppose Richard’s memory.”
Elizabeth swallowed the knot in her throat. “What sort of faithless wife am I, who fell in love with her husband’s cousin even while she waited for word of his safe return?”
“I don’t think even Richard could fault you for that. He was not in love with you any more than you were with him.”
“But he pledged his life to me! And I to him. My heart is not mine to give anymore!”
“And, as you said, he is gone. Do you not think Mr Darcy mourns his cousin and comforts himself some little when he sees you? Apart from his other feelings, do you not see the danger in him turning to you in a moment of weakness?”
Elizabeth shook her head, numbly. “He would never.”
“He is as human as you are, Lizzy.” She clasped her hand over Elizabeth’s and gazed at the floor for a moment. “I’m glad we are here at Matlock. I was beginning to worry—really fear for you at Pemberley, especially after Mr Darcy came back from South Africa.”
Elizabeth blinked back a tear and tugged out a handkerchief for her nose. “How long have you known?”
Jane shrugged. “I don’t know. It feels like I have always seen it, and tried to explain it away as nothing, but tonight I don’t know how anybody else could not have noticed.”
“Was I that pathetic? Oh, what if Miss de Bourgh becomes suspicious! What if she thinks I would—and what if the earl or the countess saw! What must they think of me? Of him?”
Jane’s mouth worked, and she looked helplessly back at Elizabeth. “I don't know. But Elizabeth, even if Mr Darcy were not pledged elsewhere, do you really think…?”
“Think what?”
Jane lifted her hands and shook her head. “Mr Bingley is a wealthy man as well, and in some ways he and Mr Darcy are equals, but really, they are not. Mr Bingley is a man of business. Old names, old money mean so much less in his sphere. He warned me that his sisters may not like me for my lack of connections, but I care nothing for that, and neither does he. There is nothing in his world that I could not eventually become a part of. But for Mr Darcy…”
“I know. It was hard enough for Richard’s family to accept me as the wife of an earl’s younger son. A soldier with no money and no property! The trouble was that I dared to leap over and shatter the holy circle of class, and I still think if Richard had lived, they would have comfortably ostracised me for as long as they were able. The countess is generous, but she is an American. The earl and the dowager are good people, but I think they would never have given me a chance if they were not mourning Richard… and if not for him . I have heard enough, and I have seen enough to understand that Mr Darcy must be even more careful in the selection of his bride. It would ruin him in society to settle for me.”
“Then you know why you have to go. Not now, of course. It is too soon, and I think you would offend those who have helped you if you try to go somewhere before Christmas.”
Jane nibbled her top lip and then blurted, “Mr Bingley and I have been speaking very seriously. I had a letter from him yesterday, did you know that?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I am ashamed to say I did not.”
“I thought it was too early to talk to him about anything, but his letter spoke of so much assurance, so much planning. If he asks me… I mean, I believe he will very soon, and I would say yes. If he does ask, I think he would think it right for you to live with us. At least for now. Think about it, will you?”
She snorted ruefully. “I have nothing else to think about.”
Jane’s chin dimpled in thought. “What about the nightmares? I have not heard you at night for a long time. Have they gone away?”
“Oh… gone, yes, at least for now.” And replaced with something infinitely more terrifying.
But that part, she did not confess to Jane. Those moments in the darkness, when he was all her own, they were too dear to be excised like so much shameful misdoing. It was not as if she could control her dreams. Could it really be counted wrong to let her heart wander in sleep?
It certainly would be if she had acted upon those dreams; the feelings, the tender moments she had imagined, the soft touches and gentle promises—yes that would be wrong on every level if she acted upon it! But the temptation was too sweet, and was it truly a sin to be tempted?
Wyoming May 1900
“M iss Bennet, there will be no official charge of murder,” the sheriff announced later that morning.
Elizabeth received the news with relief, it was true, but not so much as she might have expected to feel. In her own heart, she was accountable. It had all seemed so clear in the moment, but now, with the luxury of hindsight and the burden of the truth pressing in upon her, she could not be so certain that she would do it again.
“So, that is all, Sheriff?” her father asked beside her. “Lizzy has nothing to worry about?”
“Not… precisely.”
They all paused, waiting with suspended breath on his next words.
“Mr Silas Bryson was adamant that I press charges, as you must know. It would be a lesser charge, as determined by the courts, but it could still result in imprisonment.”
“Imprisonment? A woman?” Gardiner sputtered. “Nonsense! Lizzy’s actions were entirely justified. She had no choice!”
“I would agree with you, Mr Gardiner, but Mr Bryson is naturally grieved over his son, and is not persuaded that events played out as reported. He is intent upon seeking corroboration for his claim that Miss Bennet is a…” He stopped, cleared his throat, and adjusted his tie. “Well, he is convinced that Miss Bennet met his son of her own accord, and was not at all coerced.”
“Preposterous!” Elizabeth exclaimed, speaking for the first time in some while. “Anyone with eyes would have seen my conduct around him for the last two years! I tolerated him for civility’s sake, but never encouraged him.”
“Of course.” The sheriff held up a hand to soothe her. “My advice to you, Miss Bennet, is to take measures to protect your reputation against any slights, for they will come. People like repeating gossip, and you can be assured that Bryson will be cultivating it.”
“Even so, what possible charge could be brought against me?”
“It might be a manslaughter charge. Be assured, Miss Bennet, I feel it is unwarranted and inappropriate in this case, but if enough complaint is made, and enough people believe Bryson’s claims, then I would be forced to bring you to trial. And if I refused to do it, I would be replaced by one more willing. So, you see, it might be advisable for you to secure your good standing as a proper lady before anything else happens.”
She drew a long, shaking sigh, and stared at the floor.
“But Elizabeth already has a sterling reputation,” her father assured them all. “You do ride out alone, but everyone knows you only come to see me.”
“Or anyone else who might be at the corrals,” the sheriff suggested quietly. All eyes turned to him. “My recommendation, Miss Bennet, is to find someone to marry you. Quickly.”
R ichard tore open the telegram brought up to his room and read it three times before he could make any sense of it.
New orders. Needed on the front. Report to General Roberts next month in Africa.
He allowed the telegram to fall and gazed unseeingly at the bed in his room. So! Someone at Whitehall had managed to work his cause, after all, and he was bound for the front. Perhaps his father had come through with his connections.
He spun about his rented room, assessing what must be done. Packing would be a matter of moments, as it should be for a military man. The next batch of remounts were due to board a train the following day, so he would simply accompany them himself rather than sending Denny.
He hated to own the thrill that shot through his body at the notion of going. Finally, a real task, somewhere he might do his men some good! A bloody shame he had already wasted so much time here… and a pity that something seemed to tug at his conscience, dragging at his heels even as he kicked the Wyoming dirt from them.
If he were a man of leisure… but there was no use pursuing that notion. Magnificent as this country was, it his was not his place. There was no purpose, no future for a soldier here. His duties would fall to another as easily as they had become his, so there was no more to do. And there would be nothing else he could do for that spirited, sleepless girl at the other end of town.
“I ’ll marry you, Lizzy!”
Elizabeth yawned, blinked, and tried to determine if she had heard properly. She had rested only a few hours at home before begging her aunt for some employment. They all decided that she should not be in the store today, so she was behind the house, watching over her young cousins when Billy Collins pedalled up on his bicycle, panting and sweating.
“What did you say, Billy?”
He dropped his bicycle, then nearly sprinted towards her until the latch on the yard gate defeated his hurried efforts, and he doubled forward over the pointed wood with a grunt. He managed to jerk it open at last and came to her. “Mr Gardiner said you should marry someone to keep your name clear. I’ll marry you, Lizzy.”
“Billy, I—”
“Now, you know I just got my license, but I think I had better go talk to the reverend. Tomorrow should suffice.”
“Please, Billy, you mustn’t—”
“And I suppose we could rent a room at the hotel until I have a parsonage of some sort. Old Catherine’s cottage is up for rent, but I suppose I might not be able to—”
“Billy!”
He paused and looked at her. “Yes, my dearest?”
She winced. “Please don’t call me that!”
“But is it not the conventional manner of a betrothed couple? I assure you, our marriage will bring the very greatest of happiness to us both. I have never yet spoken to you of my reasons for marrying, but I have always understood I should marry someday. It is expected of any ordained minister, for we shall set the example of matrimony in the county, and you, my dearest, shall run the charity school. We shall be the most blessed of all—”
“We are cousins! Or had you forgotten?”
A look of deep thought passed over his face. “Why, yes, that is true, but once removed. I believe we are still within the bounds of the law and common decency.”
“No. Absolutely not, Billy. I appreciate the thought, but marriage is for life. We would never suit.”
“But what if they come after you, Lizzy? You heard the sheriff. We should be married before that happens, so no one can doubt your character.”
“I’m not going to marry you, Billy! Not tomorrow, not ever.”
Billy’s lip quivered, and his dewy brown eyes grew large. “Do you mean you’d rather go to jail than put up with me? I never thought you despised me that much.”
Elizabeth blew out an aggrieved sigh. “It has nothing to do with you, Billy. I appreciate what you are trying to do—really, I do. But I am not in any real danger other than the affliction of my own conscience. For that, I shall suffer my penance the rest of my life, but I have no intention of acting rashly. Truly, if I married you now, everyone would see it for an admission of wrongdoing. I would be twice condemned in public opinion, for everyone knows that nothing but desperation would provoke me to it.”
His brow furrowed in hurt. “You don’t have to rub it in.”
“Oh, Billy!” She leaned forward and patted his cheek affectionately. “I shall always think on you with gratitude, for I know that I would never be your first choice of a wife. You need someone like Jane—sweet and kind and content with the prospect of life as a preacher’s wife.”
“Or Mary,” he mused. “I suppose you’re right, Lizzy. We would fight like brother and sister.” His lips pinched in thought, then—“Do you suppose Jane would really…?”
“No! Oh, Billy, go on back to the warehouse. You cannot do anything for me, really, but I appreciate the thought.”
He stood, brushing the dirt from his trousers and then fumbling to retrieve his hat. “Well… you’ll let me know if you need to change your mind, won’t you?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, then shook her head with a fond smile. “Of course.”
Matlock November 1900
D arcy and Georgiana’s proposed three days at Matlock passed in a vexing delirium of tedium and glory. Curse his frame, but he could not help exulting in Elizabeth’s nearness at each meal, each gathering. Even with Anne in the very same room, his body hummed and throbbed to draw closer to Elizabeth. What a wretched man was he! And what sort of a husband was he to make? He could not even remain constant through their engagement!
Some would count him innocent. He had committed no physical acts of betrayal—his body was one thing he could control. He could lock himself in his room, bar the door and keep his fist closed against any overtures of more . But his mind was ever open, ever reaching and thirsting for a taste of sweet nectar, and that was the bottle in which he could put no stopper.
It was with a heavy heart that he walked to his carriage—Anne on his arm, Georgiana just before him and Elizabeth… Elizabeth was standing back in the hall, her hands locked firmly at her sides, and her dark eyes hooded with something she would not express, even to him.
She had to sense it. She had to know how his very being ached when she was near, how he let his touch linger, how he came alive when she spoke to him. And so, she had begun to shut him out, but was it because she did not return his admiration, or was it something nobler? More faithful than himself, she was!
Still, he granted himself the luxury of one last look over his shoulder at her, and the answering quiver in her chin when she gazed back and mouthed “Goodbye,” told him everything he needed to know.
He needed to get out of Derbyshire.
“Georgiana,” he asked after the carriage started, “what do you say to altering our plans for Christmas?”
She looked at him as if he had just announced he meant to sell Pemberley. “Whatever for? I have no specific wish to go to London. You do not even like London.”
“I think it would be good for us,” he replied. “Change of scenery, change of company. You have not been to London in nearly a year, and you cannot say you do not miss the Serpentine at Christmas, or Hyde Park when it snows.”
Her brow furrowed dubiously. “I would like that, but I thought you preferred to stay with the family this year.”
He fumbled with the brim of his hat. “I think we ought to get on with the business of living. I shall ask Anne if she would like to accompany us—the earl himself has said he has matters to attend in London, so we will see him there as well.”
“But everyone else will remain?”
He fidgeted more with his hat. “Yes. We have spent enough time with the family. I think it fitting for now that we should go.”
She looked out the other window. “Whatever you think, William.”