Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (11 page)

“None of that, William,” Georgiana chastised. Her smile spread across her lips. “We always share everything.”

Despite Darcy’s regrets, he returned her smile.

“I could have chosen new music instead,” he teased.

“Yes. Mrs. Reynolds claims this particular ‘gift’ comes to us via Mr. Wickham. I suppose I prefer the measles to the alternative.”

Darcy squeezed the back of her hand.

“The lesser of two evils?”

A comfortable pause followed.

“The colonel says I remain beautiful,” Georgiana shared, at length.

Darcy’s curiosity piqued.

“You are never vain. Did you think the measles would scar like the pox?”

“No. No. Nothing of the kind.” His sister’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment. Georgiana quickly changed the subject. “Our cousin also says Miss Elizabeth came to Pemberley. I hoped the lady would visit with me, but perhaps she fears catching the disease.”

“I do not believe…that is the lady’s objection. Miss Elizabeth called upon me…but in my delirium…when I awoke…and saw her there…I ordered Mrs. Reynolds…to remove the lady. I could not understand…Elizabeth’s being there…and I feared…the lady would become…as ill as you and I…that I might lose her…before I could claim her.”

“Oh, William, surely Miss Elizabeth will understand.”

“At this point…I am not certain,” Darcy confessed. “She remains at Pemberley…but Miss Elizabeth refuses…to speak to me.” He tapped the arm of the rolling chair. “Thus, I employed a means…of encountering her.”

Georgiana’s expression crunched up in confusion.

“Then what Mrs. Reynolds says is true. Miss Elizabeth tends the ill: Dispensing licorice tea for their coughs and ginger tea for their stomach disorders. Demanding that windows be open to permit in fresh air and all surfaces be washed clean with soap and water.”

“Mrs. Reynolds has…not shared…as such…with me, but the colonel spoke…of Miss Elizabeth’s…unanticipated visit…to Darcy House…where she upset Mrs. Wells…with like demands.”

“Mrs. Wells is not as kind as Mrs. Reynolds,” Georgian observed.

“I was not pleased…with the woman’s…obvious disdain…for Miss Elizabeth’s efforts. The lady meant…to protect my household…in my absence. Miss Elizabeth traveled…to Darcy House…with only a maid…to warn Mr. Thacker…to take precautions…against the disease.”

“Risking censure for calling upon a bachelor household.” Georgiana responded in awe.

“If the colonel…did not call…on Darcy House…when he learned…of an outbreak…in St. Clements parish…and knowing…I called upon…Mr. Wickham there. Mr. Thacker…might have turned…Miss Elizabeth away.”

Georgiana’s mouth stood agape.

“Miss Elizabeth must love you dearly, William.”

Before Darcy could respond to his sister’s assertion, Sheffield returned.

“I will call…again later,” Darcy told his sister. “Rest now.”

With Georgiana’s wish for his continued health, Darcy permitted his valet to wheel him from his sister’s rooms. In the passageway, he asked of Elizabeth.

“Did you find…Miss Elizabeth?”

“Yes, but you will not appreciate what the lady does,” Sheffield warned.

Darcy braced himself for what he knew would be a confrontation; yet, even so, Darcy was not prepared for what he observed from the upper landing. Below him, on the stairs were three maids washing and drying the balustrade and the spindles of the hand railing. It took him several seconds before he realized one of the maids was Elizabeth.

“What the devil are you about, Elizabeth?’

* * *

The familiar voice had Elizabeth’s spine stiffening. Earlier, she donned her least favorite gown and joined the two maids in their duties. Rest would come only after she departed Pemberley. Until that time, Elizabeth meant to drive away her broken heart with hard work.

“Did you hear me?” Mr. Darcy demanded from above.

Without turning to look at him, Elizabeth responded.

“I suspect the whole house heard you, Sir, but permit me to ask.” To the younger of the two maids Elizabeth set her inquiry. “Did you hear the gentleman, Jorie?”

“Yes, Miss,” the girl responded with downcast eyes.

“And you, Millie?”

A whispered “Yes, Miss” came from the older maid.

Elizabeth continued cleaning the spindles while Jorie dried.

“It is unanimous, Sir,” Elizabeth said without emotion. “Each of us heard your question. Should I also ask the footman below?”

“I understand…your impertinence,” Mr. Darcy growled in what sounded of frustration.

Elizabeth did not respond, busying herself with her task instead.

“Will you…not speak to me…in private?” the gentleman asked without the earlier rancor.

Elizabeth stood and picked up one of the buckets of soapy water. However, she did not answer Mr. Darcy’s question. Instead, she spoke to the maids.

“I believe I shall begin our work in the dining room. When you finish, please join me there.”

“Yes, Miss,” the maids said in unison.

From above her, Elizabeth heard a commotion and the protestations of Mr. Darcy’s valet; yet, she continued her descent.

“No, Sir. You cannot,” Mr. Sheffield declared. “You will fall!”

It took all of Elizabeth’s hard-earned control not to look back–not to rush to Mr. Darcy’s side.

“Elizabeth, please!” Mr. Darcy pleaded.

She halted her steps, but Elizabeth did not turn to look at him. Viewing Mr. Darcy’s features drawn up in urgency would destroy her composure.

“I never gave you permission to use my Christian name,” Elizabeth said in bitterness. “We do not hold such a familiarity.”

The household went completely silent.

“Will you not…have the decency…to call upon…Miss Darcy? At least…do me the favor…of treating my sister…with dignity,” Mr. Darcy charged.

If not for her practiced willpower Elizabeth would toss the bucket aside and mount the stairs to box Mr. Darcy’s ears. Yet, she remained still.

“There is no purpose in forming a friendship of one day. I shall depart Pemberley soon, and Miss Darcy will have no need of my acquaintance.” With a stifled sob, Elizabeth strode away toward the dining room, while ignoring the splash of water upon her gown from where she clutched the bucket so tightly.

The next two days brought Darcy no relief: He returned to his bed, but his mind raced to discover a solution. When he fell asleep in an exhausted heap at midnight, Darcy slept all that night and the next day and into the next night’s middle. He awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes searched the darkness for the familiarity of his quarters, the ones he redecorated shortly after his father’s passing.

Forcing conscious reality to claim him, Darcy sighed in resignation. This would be his life: Even if he married another, he would wake filled with a yearning for only one woman.

“How could it have gone so wrong?’ he whispered.

The scene of Elizabeth’s racing from his quarters replayed in his dreams.

“Why did I not simply catch her to me and claim the affection, which brought Elizabeth to watch over me?” Darcy turned on his side to bury his face in his pillow. “Because I was taught to protect those I affect,” he admitted. “Yet…” Darcy punched the pillow. “Yet, only a fool would send away the woman he adores most in the world. If only I spoke with temperance.”

The sound of Mr. Sheffield stirring had Darcy pretending to sleep. He wished no one’s pity. His servants witnessed the scene of his argument with Elizabeth. Afterwards, even Sheffield diverted his eyes when his valet insisted upon Darcy’s return to his quarters. Darcy humiliated himself before the people who looked upon him for their future. How were his staff to judge him if he appeared weak?

“Another example of my cursed tongue saying what I should keep private,” Darcy murmured. “Why did viewing Elizabeth upon her knees rip my heart in two?”

Although Darcy chose not to give his thoughts voice, he knew his response to Elizabeth’s acting the role of servant was based on the fear he felt when he searched for Wickham, knowing such would be Elizabeth’s life of drudgery if he failed. Most assuredly, Darcy experienced the pain of seeing Elizabeth brought low and at her own hands. It was humbling to realize that she despised him so much she would prefer to scrub his floors than to accept even the smallest token of humanity from him.

Darcy could hear the house stir to life, but he kept his eyes closed to the world. Only behind the façade of sleep could he woo and win Elizabeth Bennet’s affections. Only then did he speak words of love, rather than censure. Only then did Elizabeth look upon him with favor.

* * *

Elizabeth again found her way to the window seat. It was a beautiful night, a starry night with a gentle breeze, but it brought her no comfort. After the confrontation with Mr. Darcy, the gentleman returned to his quarters. From what she overheard, Mr. Darcy sought his bed and had yet to rise from their encounter. To Elizabeth’s relief, Mrs. Reynolds disclosed Mr. Darcy did not succumb to his illness again. She did not think she could bear to be responsible for Mr. Darcy knowing greater suffering.

“Master William simply requires his rest,” the housekeeper shared while the woman and Elizabeth changed out the linens upon the servants’ sick beds. Other than the two latest patients, the others progressed nicely. Despite Elizabeth’s resolve to leave Mr. Darcy behind, she could not but be sorry to leave him.

Reluctantly, Elizabeth climbed upon her bed. She required sleep for the colonel announced that he meant to depart for London after the morrow’s breakfast.

“Finally,” Elizabeth spoke softly to the shadows as she drew the linens over her head. “I shall be rid of this madness and of Mr. Darcy.”

* * *

“Darcy?” His cousin’s voice came close to Darcy’s ear.

“What is amiss, Fitzwilliam?” Darcy kept his eyes closed, praying his cousin would leave him so Darcy might grieve for his loss.

“I mean to depart for London today. You and Georgiana will be well soon, and General Leigh-Hunt expects me to join him for supper on Friday.”

Although Darcy thought he knew the answer, he asked, “What day is this?”

“Wednesday.”

Darcy rolled to his back.

“Have a safe journey, and keep me informed of Leigh-Hunt’s wishes.”

Darcy knew the general often called upon Fitzwilliam for his most pressing assignments, a fact of which Darcy disapproved.

The colonel waited for him to say more, but Darcy refused to ask of Elizabeth.

“Should I inquire after Wickham when I return to London?”

“Not on my account,” Darcy said in bitterness. “I could do nothing even if the scoundrel reneges upon his promise. I am not well enough to execute another search, and the Bennets would not welcome more interference upon my part. Mr. Gardiner will deal well with Mr. Wickham.”

“As you wish,” the colonel said with a lift of his eyebrow, indicating his concern. “And what of Miss Elizabeth?”

Darcy closed his eyes to ward off the inevitable rush of regret.

“Miss Elizabeth means to walk away from Pemberley and me. When she departs with you today, our connection ends.”

* * *

In spite of his spoken resolve to permit Elizabeth to leave without another confrontation, after the colonel departed to call upon Georgiana, Darcy donned a favorite banyan over his wrinkled shirt and breeches and slowly made his way to Elizabeth’s door. Bracing his weight against the frame, he knocked lightly and waited for her appearance.

When the door swung wide, his heart stuttered to a halt. A silky wrapper covered her night rail. Her toes peeked from under the hem, and her hair–those glorious unstyled locks, which he viewed only once on the day Elizabeth walked from Longbourn to Netherfield to tend her ill sister–hung about her shoulders, draping to her waist. Auburn curls caressed her cheeks. Darcy wished to claim fistfuls of the fire-touched strains.

“Mr. Darcy,” she hissed. “Why are you here? And at this hour?” She pulled the wrapper close about her. “Do you mean to ruin me?”

“I would never,” Darcy said in defense. As he made his way to Elizabeth’s quarters, Darcy rehearsed his apology, but her reaction to his appearance had him swallowing the words he meant to say. “I thought we held unfinished business.” It was all Darcy could do not to reach for her. He thought if he could only hold Elizabeth in his arms all would be well.

“We do not!” Elizabeth reached for the door to close it.

Darcy leaned heavily against the framing.

“Wait! Please wait,” he whispered.

“Why?” Elizabeth spoke with cool indifference. “So you may humiliate me further? I understand: You spoke the words Society expects from a gentleman, but I am not one of those seeking a husband on the Marriage Mart. All I ever required in any gentleman was honesty.”

“Yes. I am well aware of your brand of honesty, Miss Elizabeth. You prefer scoundrels such as Mr. Wickham to a man who offers you respectability,” Darcy snapped.

Her chin notched higher.

“Leave me, Mr. Darcy. Claim your victory. I dared to rebuke a man of your consequence, and you successfully repaid my prideful act. You proved yourself superior to Mr. Wickham and to my family.”

“Do I hear you correctly? It is your belief that I enticed you to follow me to Pemberley specifically so I might reject you as you rejected me in Kent. Explain to me, Miss Elizabeth, how I planned to contract measles so you would feel empathy for me. I have known convoluted thinking previously, but never to this extent,” he charged.

They were nearly nose-to-nose, so close, Darcy considered kissing Elizabeth senseless.

“I never thought you ‘enticed’ me to Pemberley, but…”

“But what?” Darcy pressed. “I spoke promises that you denied possible, yet for which you secretly hoped.” She flinched when Darcy traced a line across her cheek with a single fingertip. “Is that the way of it, Elizabeth?”

“No!” Her denial lacked conviction as Elizabeth’s eyes drifted close: A familiar longing crossed her expression. They stood as such for several elongated seconds as their breaths came faster. Fascinated by the feel of her skin beneath his finger, Darcy hesitated in kissing her. Unfortunately, the pause rekindled Elizabeth’s ire.

“Unhand me!” Elizabeth accused.

Irritated by Elizabeth’s continued stubbornness, Darcy held up the finger with which he stroked her cheek.

“Unhand you?” His eyebrow rose in challenge.

Sarcasm laced Elizabeth’s words.

“You win again, Mr. Darcy.”

“There is no winner unless we are together,” Darcy insisted. “Can you not see every move I make is meant to protect you? Even when I thought you knew Mr. Wickham…” The image of Wickham touching Elizabeth always tore of Darcy’s soul, and Darcy searched for the right words to express his affections.

“You mean when Mr. Bingley demanded you act with honor?” Fury sparked in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Do not speak to me of your devotion.”

Unable to resist the urge to lash out, Darcy responded with his own unkind accusation.

“Did you know of Miss Lydia’s elopement when you and the Gardiners came to Pemberley? When you walked along the riverbank, did you know regret not to discover me at home? Were your ‘innocent’ remarks to Bingley of Miss Bennet’s pining for his homecoming a means to prove my early estimations in error? I know Mrs. Reynolds informed you of my expected return to the manor with the Bingleys in company. Did you wait for the coaches to pass through Lambton in hopes of drawing Bingley’s attentions?”

“You knew I visited Pemberley; yet, you made no attempt to renew our acquaintance? What does your inaction say of your regard, Mr. Darcy? Were you at home when my family toured the estate? Did you spy upon me? Did you count the number of times I returned to your portrait in the gallery and recognize my susceptibility? Is that when you hatched the plan to humiliate me?” Elizabeth reached for the door again. “Perhaps you should know, Mr. Darcy, that when I tended Mr. Wickham at Gracechurch Street, that gentleman welcomed my presence in his quarters.” With her pronouncement, the door closed in Darcy’s face, and his heart plummeted into more despair.

* * *

Darcy watched from the gallery as Mrs. Reynolds and a weakened Mr. Nathan bid Elizabeth and the colonel farewell. It was pure torture to observe the kindness with which Elizabeth treated his servants and to know no such tidings were meant for him. Mrs. Reynolds’ expression spoke of his housekeeper’s approval of Elizabeth Bennet. His servant presented Elizabeth with what appeared to be a strip of crocheted lace. Elizabeth blushed from the notice and quickly added it to the pages of the book she carried before placing her arms about Mrs. Reynolds in a lingering embrace. With a glance about the foyer, she accepted the colonel’s proffered arm. And then she was gone. Elizabeth walked from Darcy’s life once again.

“How could what began with such promise end in misery?” Darcy whispered.

With nothing to which to look forward, he turned his dejected steps toward his quarters.

* * *

Although Elizabeth attempted to speak in all politeness to Colonel Fitzwilliam, it was all she could do not to deliver a waspish denouncement of the colonel’s abominable cousin. Elizabeth wished to question Fitzwilliam upon what he knew of Mr. Darcy’s insinuations, but she did not. At length, they parted, and Elizabeth knew instant regret at not having the opportunity to claim the colonel as family.

“You have returned!” Lydia called from where she sat beside Mr. Wickham upon a settle in Aunt Gardiner’s favorite drawing room.

“Yes, I have.” Elizabeth curtsied to Mr. Wickham, who rose upon her entrance. “I am pleased to observe a bit of health has returned to your person, Sir.”

“I am not yet prepared to attempt a country dance, but I can claim a steadier stance.”

Elizabeth gestured his return to his seat while she perched upon the edge of a nearby chair.

“Lydia and I could not help but notice that Colonel Fitzwilliam set you down from one of Darcy’s coaches. I thought Mr. Gardiner said you tended his business associate.” A lift of his eyebrow said Wickham was more than curious.

“I did. Mr. Hacker resides near All Hallows Church, and as Uncle Gardiner’s coachman assumed the care of his children when we welcomed your illness to uncle’s household, I sent word to Colonel Fitzwilliam at Darcy House. Mr. Darcy offered his cousin’s escort if I required anything in his absence. The colonel delivered me to Hacker’s door and retrieved me today. I am most grateful for his kindness, especially as he holds duties with General Leigh-Hunt later today.”

Elizabeth smiled at Mr. Wickham before asking Lydia of the wedding. Oblivious to the contest, which just passed between Elizabeth and Mr. Wickham, Lydia perked up immediately.

“I wish it could be grander, but Aunt Gardiner says I ‘cannot flaunt my fortune’ before others. To which I said, ‘Why marry if not for the notice of others?’”

Elizabeth heard the hint of frustration in Lydia’s tone, and so she swallowed her “Why indeed?” response. Instead, she offered her sister an enticing alternative.

“Yet, even without a larger ceremony, you should rejoice for you shall be the first among your sisters to marry.” Elizabeth knew Lydia well enough to know her youngest sister would enjoy the distinction among the Bennet daughters.

Lydia’s countenance brightened.

“And perhaps my dearest Wickham will be permitted to wear his Regimentals.”

“We may only hope,” Elizabeth said with pleasure.