Page 39 of Tempted (Heart to Heart Collection #2)

Chapter 39

Kent March 1901

A nne de Bourgh’s avowed notion to marry abroad proved little more than an idle threat, probably conceived merely for the pleasure of provoking the earl and watching the countess fan herself. After a short two-month engagement, Anne became Mrs William Collins in the Hunsford chapel, nearly on the steps of her childhood home of Rosings.

When Elizabeth marvelled at the beauty of the estate and wondered aloud why Miss de Bourgh would choose to be more often away from it, she received only the cryptic reply that “home is not a house.” However, if Billy’s unabashed admiration for the grounds and the architecture truly flattered his new wife as much as it appeared to, Elizabeth suspected the couple would be spending more time in Kent in the following years.

The new Mr and Mrs Collins set out from Dover for Calais—the first of many voyages the happy bride had scheduled. The well-wishers remained another day, then departed for London. Jane was to be the next fortunate lady, and she had discovered that Lady Matlock’s exertions were not restricted merely to Elizabeth’s interests. Their fellow countrywoman had made it her personal mission to see both Jane and Elizabeth launched into London society in high style—whether they desired her help or not.

“I did not think I was nervous,” Jane confessed in private one evening, “but with all these gown fittings and etiquette lessons, the countess is going to make me so jittery I’ll be sure to knock over some fine lady during my introductions!”

“She means well,” Elizabeth said. “I may baulk at some of her suggestions and insistences, but she has navigated these waters far longer than we.”

“What about you, Lizzy? I am only becoming the wife of a businessman, but you have much bigger shoes to fill. Are you at all uneasy about it?”

Elizabeth twirled a pen in her hand. “About marrying William? I only wish it could be sooner. I love—genuinely love every minute I am with him.”

“But apparently, that is not the worry. What about when you have to start mingling with the people he knows?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I met two ladies who called on Lady Matlock for tea, and she introduced me as the future Mrs Darcy. It was not so bad—at least, I do not think so, and I received no lectures on my comportment afterwards, so I could not have conducted myself too terribly. Or… perhaps Lady Matlock did not know where to begin correcting me!”

“Lizzy, do be serious. You are not worried at all?”

Elizabeth frowned in thought. “No. He is worth it, Jane—worth anything I have to learn or do or become, and I know he feels the same way about me. He is a different man than when first we met, but I have changed, too, and both of us for the better. My one regret—and I can do nothing about it—is… Papa.” She stopped there, her throat swelling the way it always did, and her breath reduced to a mere whimper. “I wish he could be there.”

Jane sniffed and blinked away her own rush of feeling to grasp Elizabeth’s hand. “But he would be so happy for us, and you especially. I comfort myself with that.”

“Yes.” Elizabeth quelled her sadness with a fresh breath of air and found her smile again. “William got his second letter back from Uncle Gardiner. He told me about it today. Everyone back home sends their congratulations and blessings, and though William has not confessed it to me, between him and our uncle, there is some surprise in store.”

“Such as?”

“Oh… I dare not say too much, but I suspect there is some plan for Mama and Kitty and Lydia…”

Jane’s fingers tightened fiercely around Elizabeth’s wrist. “To come here? When? Oh, Lizzy, you are not teasing me!”

“Of course, I am teasing you, but not without cause. I know that look in William’s eye, and there was some reason he would not let me read the last page of Uncle’s letter. He acted as though he was being very clever, but he did a terrible job of denying it when I guessed at what he was hiding.”

“But how can you be sure? Oh, Lizzy, you would not say such a thing unless you were sure it was true! Did you manage to get a confession from him?”

Elizabeth grinned slyly. “A woman ought to be intimately acquainted with the weaknesses of her future spouse. I trust you are making a study of your Charles? As for William—one simple trick, and I have him begging for mercy.”

Jane’s mouth rounded in laughter. “Lizzy! Whatever have you done to poor Mr Darcy?”

“Oh, nothing he did not enjoy at least as much as I did. Did you know that our esteemed and vaunted Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy is ticklish?”

“I do not understand!” Darcy fumed, pacing the floor in the earl’s study. “Still ‘under investigation’? What possible reason can there be for delay? They have had nearly four months!”

“But you said yourself there was no body recovered,” Reginald answered. “There are legalities, confirmations required—one does not issue a death certificate unless the man truly is dead.”

“The general confirmed it himself. What greater assurance do they need?”

The earl’s expression clouded. “I should like as much assurance as they can give me, thank you very much. This is my brother we are speaking of, and he was like a brother to you, as well, if you have not forgotten.”

Darcy sighed. “You know nothing would give me more joy than to have Richard back. I would give anything— anything to hear it was all a mistake, that he is sailing home tomorrow, but Reginald, it is not true.” Darcy’s voice dropped until it was little more than gravelled tones. “Richard is not coming home.”

“So, what do you want me to do, Darcy? I have exhausted all my influence trying to harangue the Army into proving my brother’s death. If you think I found the duty a mere trifle—”

“Have I done less? Pressing General Houghton until he no longer receives my calls? Marching into the last place he probably saw in life, shaking hands with one of the men who could have saved him by giving a different order? I was prepared to drag him out of there on a stretcher or even in a box if need be, but Reginald, there was no one to bring home. The least the Army can do is give us the dignity of closure.”

“And I am certain they will. It may be until the end of the war when all is concluded there—less than a year, I should think.”

“Less than…” Darcy bit his tongue and clenched the fingers he had been about to gesticulate with. “There are real lives hanging in wait! Other soldiers have widows—this situation cannot be unique or unexpected, so why will they not trouble themselves to consider the family?”

The earl’s eyes hardened. “I still say they are considering the family, in verifying and counter-examining everything before issuing the final certificate.”

Darcy shook his head. “If that were true, I would applaud it, with every feeling of goodwill I possess. But I cannot believe that is the case—I think the paperwork is sitting on the desk of some indolent under-secretary, neglected and on the verge of becoming lost for good.”

Reginald scowled. “Then you go track it down, Darcy. I am weary of the entire thing, and in no hurry to see my brother’s name printed on that bloody piece of paper.”

“Very well,” Darcy replied slowly. He watched his cousin for a full minute—the stony features, the grief now turned to unspent rage. At last, he surrendered and started for the door, but then turned back. “I know you think I have selfish reasons.”

“Do you not?” the earl snorted.

Darcy’s jaw tightened. “I loved Richard like a brother, but leaving Elizabeth waiting in some legal no man’s land because of the Army’s ineptitude—that is not what he would have wanted.”

Reginald pinched the bridge of his nose and drew a long breath. “Go on, Darcy. Just get it over with.”

Wyoming May 1900

“A letter! A letter from New York!”

Mrs Bennet flounced into the upstairs apartment, waving the paper in triumph and depositing kisses on the cheeks of her daughters as she passed. “Oh, Lizzy, I knew it would come right. You are saved! What does it say? Has your husband arranged for you to have his half-pay? Shall we all go to New York when he returns?”

“He will not come to New York when his tour is over,” Elizabeth protested. “May I have the letter?”

Mrs Bennet gave it reluctantly but did not grant her daughter privacy. In fact, as Elizabeth broke open the envelope, all her family gathered round her with expectant stares. “Come, now,” she scoffed, her cheeks hot, “surely a wife may read her husband’s letters in private.”

“But you are not his proper wife,” Lydia protested. “What can he possibly have to say that is so intimate? I want to know what he saw in New York!”

Jane was the first to blush on her sister’s behalf. “You are right, Lizzy. Come, Lydia, Kitty. Mama, were you going to show me that new pattern our aunt just got in at the store?”

Elizabeth nestled into her chair, Richard’s letter held close as a guilty pleasure in her lap until the room emptied, and she could indulge her curiosity. The door closed, but not before Jane offered one last affectionate wink.

New York

20 May 1900

My dear Elizabeth,

Such a novel way to begin a letter! I do not believe I have ever before called anyone such. I trust you will forgive me, for it must sound as fresh to your ears as it does to mine.

I arrived in New York three days ago, and I would have written sooner, but for my duties in securing passage for all the horses. It seems the ship we were to depart on left a day earlier than my information led me to believe. Allow me to assure you, seeking berth on a ship for a hundred horses round the Cape at this time of year is a task fit only for… you will laugh… a soldier. I am rather astonished, however, to report that we depart in a matter of hours. The voyage could take as long as a month, but the creatures are all hardy, and I have no doubts they will weather the journey well.

I hope all is well with you. I trust that nothing more has come of the prior troubles. You deserve a bit of peace after everything. When I arrive in South Africa, I will speak personally to my commanding officer to make arrangements for sending a portion of my pay, and that should help you settle somewhere new. I wish it could come sooner, for I expect it would be welcome. But enough of that.

Elizabeth, I cannot say what will come. I may be in South Africa for years, or I may return to England this very winter. If I should return home… I cannot say what then. Well, let us hope for the best for both of us, eh? I will forward the address of my post as soon as I have it, but I would not leave you without some other means of contact. I include the direction for my father, the Earl of Matlock, though if you have need, I expect you would do better to address my mother, the countess. Father has been ill, according to the last word I had, and can be a querulous sort even when he is hale. My mother’s sympathies, or perhaps the viscountess’, will be the more readily engaged.

Better than all these, however, I would advise you to write to Darcy, if you should find yourself in any straits. I will send him word of you. He has the resources and, moreover, the goodness to look after you, even from afar. I hope that nothing of the kind shall be necessary, but it would ease my mind if you knew you were not entirely alone while I am out of the country.

Do give your family my best, particularly your father. I am sorry matters have come out as they have, but I suppose the less said, the better.

Until I see you again,

Richard Fitzwilliam

Elizabeth frowned and creased the letter back into its original folds. Hardly a love letter, but, then, how could she expect something of that nature after such a brief acquaintance? She did not even know his middle name or how old he was. However, what he had sent her was everything an agreeable man of honour and duty might have expressed in such a circumstance.

And how good it was of him to think of sending her a portion of his pay! It was proof enough of his sincerity towards herself, was it not? He could just as easily have gone off to war, or back to England, and forsworn any acquaintance with her. Again, she counted herself lucky to have wed such a man. Yes, she could be content, even lavishly so, as Mrs Fitzwilliam… if she ever saw him again.

Elizabeth sighed and tapped the folded letter against her leg as she gazed out the window. The letter was precious to her for more reasons than Richard’s gentlemanly assurances. Such an artifact would stand her in good stead if matters around town grew worse.

London April 1901

I t was not only the matter of the Army’s reluctance that cost Darcy sleep and a good share of his appetite on more vexing days. Elizabeth’s mention of George Wickham—whether she had truly seen him or not—had Darcy watching over his shoulder again. Surely, if the blackguard meant to extort something more, he would have made some move by now… would he not?

But still, Darcy could not quite be easy. Wickham knew there was something twisted and sinister in Elizabeth’s past, and there would be whispers about Town by now that she was to be the next Mrs Darcy. The mere fact that he had not heard anything from George Wickham gave him more cause for concern than if he had a demand letter in his hand.

“You are very quiet today, William,” Elizabeth observed as they were out walking in Hyde Park one afternoon.

“The argument could be made that I am more often quiet than otherwise,” he replied.

“That is only when you are in company. I have found you much more… expressive when we are alone.”

“Shall I kiss you in public, then? Dance you around the water fountain? Indeed, many things would then be said, but probably not all of them would be to your liking.”

Elizabeth gave his elbow a sharp tug of remonstrance. “What is troubling you? You have that look on your face. I have seen it before, and it never brought anything good.”

Despite his reluctance to confess all, Darcy smiled to himself. Anne had hardly noticed his expressions and moods, but he could hide nothing from Elizabeth. “Do you recall that letter from your father? How it was delayed and arrived without an envelope?”

“Someone else read it?” She stopped walking and stared at the ground, then sought his face. “But you said yourself that there was nothing damaging in the letter. There was the bit about it not being suitable for me to return home, but without proper context, someone just reading it could not infer anything truly dreadful.”

“Unless that person already had reason to suspect something and was intentionally searching to confirm it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who? Who had my letter, William?”

“One I used to call a friend, and the one person who had cause to think you are more than you appear.”

Elizabeth paled, but only slightly. Though her eyes were now dilated, she lifted her chin. “Does Georgiana know?”

“She was there the day I received Wickham’s demand letter. He wanted money in exchange for certain items he held, but I had, by a lucky chance, just discovered the name of the person to whom he was indebted. Rather than give in to his wants, I made a counter-threat, and your letter was returned the next day.”

“Without an envelope,” she added.

“Yes. Without that. I was glad just to see your letter in its rightful place, precious as it must have been to you at that moment. Still, I will not deny that it has troubled me since, and more so of late. I expect Wickham remains in search of money and has not entirely given up the idea of getting it from me. But come, let us have no more of this—you have told me before that I brood on matters to excess. Like enough, I am fretting about something that will never arise. Forgive me for spoiling your cheerful mood.”

They resumed walking on, both now sombre and quiet. At length, she squeezed his arm and looked up again. “Is this always the way it is for you?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean people, always seeking leverage to gain something from you. Money, status—some advantage. Does it never end?”

“I am afraid it does not.”

She shook her head. “I know now why everyone was so slow to welcome me. What you all must have thought when I turned up!”

“What I thought? If you wish me to be entirely honest, I tried to think of you as another schemer. That impression lasted less than a minute.”

“And then what?”

He smiled as he recalled. “Oh, I was on my guard around you, to be sure, but it was because I believed you, not the reverse. You were too tart and contrary for me to do otherwise.”

“Truly, I was! So now, I will task you with another truthful confession. When was it that I first took your fancy? When I swooned into your arms? When I sat in your study and nearly told you off?”

“I did not fall so swiftly as that, but you drove your siege spikes into the walls that day, to be certain. Believe it or not, I would say the moment of my undoing was when I overheard you laughing about my moustache.”

“Oh! Now it is you who are being contrary. Have I not apologised for that enough times? My behaviour was hardly something I am proud to remember.”

“You have, but I will accept another apology. They usually lead to something interesting.”

“Yes, but if I tender it here , we would be in a fearful pickle, for everyone in Hyde Park would be treated to a scene best preserved for private moments.”

He laughed. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“Do you know?” She tugged at his elbow to pull him close, then threw her arms around his neck. “I cannot recall.”

Darcy gave in, and within seconds, it was he clinging to her, pulling her head to his chest and then, scandalously, plying her lips with his own. That hungry, burning urge took him again, and he tried to still his hammering heart, but she was so alive and real in his arms! How could Heaven have sent him the one woman who could unlock his entire soul, then denied him the ability to make her entirely his own? He growled in frustration and pressed one last kiss to her brow.

“I never thought I could be jealous of Bingley,” he murmured against her soft skin. “But today, I would cut off my right hand to trade places with him.”

Elizabeth looked up, purposely brushing her lips along his cheek as she did so. “Why is that?”

“Because he is marrying the woman he loves within the week. I cannot even learn how long we will have to wait.”

“Patience, my love,” she soothed into his ear. “Our time will come.”

“Not nearly soon enough,” he muttered.