Unforgiving Temper (54 page)

“Wickham has much to answer for,” Grissholm
remarked grimly before turning a narrow gaze on Catherine. “Yes, I
went to Everton with a 'young lady.' An eight-year-old orphan by
the name of Rebecca Monroe; although she now goes by the name of
Ballard to protect her from scandal.”

His look did not waver as Catherine stared in
mute astonishment.

“Your sister, I believe.”

“Rebecca?” she gasped softly. “Rebecca is
alive?”

“Quite. I discovered her in a charitable
house when I was searching for you. My intention was to restore her
to you when you were found. But then I received Wickham's report
telling me you had died. I imagine that is the reason Wickham
dissuaded you from seeking me out again. He knew it would expose
his lie!”

“Mr. Wickham told you I had died?!”

“Yes,” Grissholm frowned into the distance.
“In childbirth.”

He looked back to see Catherine's face flush
scarlet. “Childbirth?! Who did he think –”

“The report gave every indication that it was
Darcy.”

Her mortified look was all that he needed to
know Wickham had played him for a fool.

“I may have acted recklessly when I met with
Mr. Wickham, but I have never …
would
never do anything
so…so…and you
believed
it?”

It was now Grissholm's face that colored.
“You had vanished without any explanation! I did not want to
believe it, but after months of searching, all I had was Wickham's
wretched report! You were dead – gone forever – and I was left with
a child who was a constant, daily reminder of what I had lost. By
then, my conscience would not allow me to return her to a less than
desirable life in the workhouse, so I made her my ward.”

“And now? Where is my sister now?”

“We are at Peyton House. She is preparing for
her first season this spring.”

“This is astonishing – my little sister alive
and well! And all because of your kindness, my lord!”

“For your sake, I could do no less.”

A fragile silence settled between them as
each tried to comprehend the implications of what had just been
revealed. Grissholm's gaze remained fixed on the ground in front of
him as he endeavored to give up the lie he had embraced for so many
years.

“Wickham lied about your death.”

“Obviously, my lord!”

“And there was no affair with Darcy – no
child.” It was not a question, but a statement; and its utterance
gave way to a stark realization. “It seems I have been seeking
revenge on the wrong man.”

“I believe so,” she agreed softly. “Sir,
might I see Rebecca?”

Grissholm sprang to life immediately. “Of
course! We shall go now, if you wish it. Bonham! Make ready! We are
returning to Peyton House at once!”

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile from
Catherine as he offered his uninjured arm and began escorting her
to his carriage.

Darcy observed the possessive hold of
Grissholm's hand upon Catherine's arm, and his lips twitched
slightly. Drawing himself up and stepping away from Richard, he
called out in a deceptively even voice. “Lord Grissholm,
surely you have not forgotten that we still have business to
conclude here?”

Grissholm froze for a brief moment, then
turned to Darcy with a warning frown. “Given the circumstances –
and the injuries sustained – I suggest we postpone our business for
a few days.”

Darcy glanced beyond Grissholm to
Catherine Monroe, his face bearing an inscrutable expression.
“But my lord, the reputation of a lady is at stake.”

With growing alarm, Grissholm saw Catherine's
confusion at the declaration and quickly stepped closer to Darcy.
“I see no reason to discuss this matter further in such gentle
company.”

“I mean no disrespect to Miss Monroe, of
course; nevertheless, this is the place and time agreed upon for
our meeting. Perhaps it is fortunate that she should be here so
that she can be educated on how eagerly you defend innocent young
ladies from disgrace.”

“Robert?” queried Catherine, her confusion
deepening.

Grissholm's face darkened with anger. “You go
too far, Darcy!”

“I would say the same about you,” replied
Darcy firmly. “In fact, I would point out that you have been
mistaken about me for years. Miss Monroe stands before you, and if
you ask her, will attest that I am wholly innocent of the crime for
which you have blamed me these last ten years. As for our current
dispute, let us consider the matter. I still contend that a
gentleman of real honor could never have attempted to – ”

“Stop! There is no need to discuss the
details in front of Miss Monroe!” Casting a nervous look in
Catherine's direction, he stepped closer, speaking with quiet
desperation. “What resolution do you propose, Darcy?”

Darcy eyed Grissholm narrowly as he pushed
away the haunting visions of Elizabeth and all that she had
suffered. Grissholm deserved to die, but that was not going to
happen today. He pressed for the only other thing that would
satisfy him now.

“I propose that you declare the lady in
question to be wholly without blame in the matter of your conduct.
That you personally give surety to every party with any knowledge
of the affair that her honor is intact in every respect and her
reputation is unblemished.” Darcy peered intently into Grissholm's
face. “And that you fully acknowledge only a blackguard would
attempt a brutal outrage against such an innocent lady.”

“You can go to the devil!” Grissholm began
heatedly, but a glance back at Catherine showed her listening to
the exchange with wide-eyed concern. Grissholm fell silent. Darcy
was unsure whether the viscount's heightened color denoted anger or
shame, but then he saw the barely visible slump in the man's
shoulders as he spoke.

“Very well,” Grissholm acquiesced grudgingly.
“I agree.”

A weary triumph spread across Darcy's face.
“Good. I shall consider the offense satisfied. I take my leave now
and entrust to you the task of explaining it to Miss Monroe as best
you can!”

* * * *

Elizabeth gazed yet again at the letter in
her hand and breathed a halting sigh. Bitter tears had already been
spilt and banished hours ago, but the agonizing truth still cut
deep with every examination of the dreadful news.

She looked over to Georgiana who was sitting
quietly on the sedan chair with an open book that had not had a
page turned in the past twenty minutes. Worry creased the girl's
face and Elizabeth could not bear to burden her further with the
content of her letter. At least not until the outcome of the
dreadful duel was known.

“Does it always take this long?” Georgiana
whispered anxiously. “Do you think he is all right?”

“I do not know about such things; but I know
your brother is a good man and God will watch over him – He must
for your sake!”
And mine!
she finished silently.
I know
he cannot be mine after this dreadful news, but I would have him be
safe.

“I hope so. I have prayed so. I want so much
for you and – ”

The sudden sound of hushed voices and heavy
footsteps in the hallway pulled the two women out of the sitting
room in an instant. They hurried toward the noise, unwilling to
wait any longer in spite of their fear of what they might find, and
looked at one another in relief as they heard the familiar sound of
Darcy's voice.

“Give me some room, Richard! I can do this on
my own.”

“You look like death itself, Cousin, and if I
were in a betting mood, I would not lay odds on you making it past
the first set of stairs. Lawrence, you steady him on that
side.”

Elizabeth and Georgiana reached the bottom of
the staircase just as the men gained the first landing, Darcy
supported precariously between Colonel Fitzwilliam and
Dr. Lawrence.

“Fitzwilliam!” Georgiana exclaimed in horror.
“You are hurt!”

All three men stopped at her cry and Darcy
turned, wincing slightly at the movement as he looked down.

“I am fine, Georgie. Just a scratch.”

“Sir,” said Elizabeth, “I am so relieved to
see you back again! Please allow me to say how grateful –”

“It is not necessary, Miss Bennet,” he
replied. Looking to Elizabeth, he met and held her eyes.
“Everything shall be fine.”

Elizabeth forced a smile to her lips as the
men continued up the stairs. Everything might be “fine” for the
Darcys, but her own family was another matter entirely. She rubbed
at the dull ache in her head that told her she had overtaxed her
strength.

“Georgiana, I think I should like to rest
awhile. Will you help me back to my room?”

“Of course, Elizabeth! You do look pale. What
a morning! I do not believe I can take any more excitement.”

Nor can I
, Elizabeth thought to
herself. It was clear she would have to handle matters carefully.
She looked down at the letter still clutched in her hand. It would
be just like him to somehow feel responsible and think it his duty
to act upon this terrible news; but she could not allow
Mr. Darcy to ever again do anything so foolish and dangerous
as fighting a duel for her sake. No, she would make sure that could
never happen again.

* * * *

Darcy angrily tossed the note onto the bed.
Leaving? Just like that before he could secure an understanding?
No, he would not allow it! Not now.

“Denham, find Miss Bennet at once and
tell her I wish to speak with her. She is not to leave this house
before I have seen her!”

“Very good, sir,” the valet replied with a
dignified bow. “I shall do so right away.”

Darcy sniffed discontentedly. His taste for
philosophy suddenly gone, he set his book on the side table and
settled in to wait for Elizabeth's arrival. She would not dare
refuse him. He knew she cared for him even if she was too stubborn
to admit it. He had seen it in her eyes the night they quarreled
over the duel. Even though she had displayed a puzzling reluctance
to be in his company since his return from the meeting with
Grissholm, she could not hide her feelings from him. He had seen
it, and the precious few times he had managed to hold her gaze, he
saw it there still.

A soft knock at the door announced
Elizabeth's arrival. In spite of his annoyance, he caught his
breath, his chest expanding and pulling painfully at Lawrence's
stitches as she entered behind Denham. She was beautiful! He was
glad to see the bruises had finally faded and her color was
returned – even heightened as she approached his bedside.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Her impassive expression brought his
irritation to the fore. “Of course I wanted to see you! What is the
meaning of this?” he replied hotly, holding the note up for her to
see.

“I believe it is all explained in the note.
Dr. Lawrence has pronounced me well enough to travel and my
Uncle Gardiner is to come for me – at any moment now.”

“You would leave without a word?”

“I am not leaving without a word. You have it
in your hand.”

That same unsettling reluctance crept into
her countenance and Darcy sensed her duplicity. “That is not what I
meant, and you know it.”

“I felt it best,” she replied evenly as she
glanced at Denham who remained discreetly busy in a corner of the
room. “I did not wish to disturb your rest; but I could not leave
without expressing my gratitude for all you have done for me.”

“Gratitude? Is that what it is?”

“Why, yes.” Her carefully constructed facade
of indifference slipped a little more. “It cannot be anything
else.”

“It can and it is! I have seen it. Look into
my eyes and tell me that you do not feel something more than
gratitude.”

Elizabeth took a step back from him, keeping
her eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

“Look at me.”

“First I must have a promise.”

“A promise?! You may have anything you
want!”

“I would have your solemn promise that you
will never again place yourself in danger for my sake.”

Darcy laughed indulgently. “Is that all?
There is no more threat from Grissholm, I can promise you that. And
I give you my solemn promise that I shall not place myself in
danger defending your honor without your express permission. Will
that do?”

His amused smile faded as she lifted her eyes
to his and he saw the glittering sadness they held.

“What is it?”

“I cannot deny that I have felt more than
gratitude, indeed, much more; but I fear it cannot be so. I had
hoped our last meeting would be as friends, however, I see that I
am to be denied even that.”

“You are not making sense. If you care for
me, nothing else matters.”

“I wish it were so,” Elizabeth whispered
softly. “When you read this letter I have received from Jane, you
will think differently.”

Taking the letter she offered, Darcy read the
lines quickly, his anger growing with every word.

“Wickham!” he snarled viciously.

“Yes, Mr. Wickham…and my youngest
sister, Lydia. So you see, it is hopeless.”

“Yes, I do see. I must beg your pardon,
Miss Bennet. I have business that cannot wait,” Darcy
announced brusquely. “May I ask that you wait for me downstairs?”
Intent on the plan which was forming in his head, he did not see
the fleeting look of devastation cross Elizabeth's face.

“Yes, of course,” she murmured. “I
understand.”

Consumed with the need to act quickly, Darcy
barely responded to her parting courtesy as she left the room,
closing the door softly behind her.

“Denham, prepare my morning clothes at once.
I am going out.”

The valet approached Darcy hesitantly, his
usually placid face lined with worry. “But sir, if I may say,
Dr. Lawrence has instructed you to remain abed for another
three days!” Darcy's fierce expression halted any further argument.
“Yes, sir, right away.”