Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (146 page)

“Come on!  You are far, far too slow!”  His voice was happy and Elizabeth was having a hard time keeping up as she held onto his hand with both of hers.  Together they ran up to the little cabin and Darcy landed with a thud against the door.  Pulling her hard against his chest, he waited impatiently for her to stop laughing so he could take a firm hold of her lips.  Frustrated, he finally tipped her head back and kissed her.  Her giggles stopped.  “That is better . . .”  He muttered and caressing his hands down her waist and over her hips, kissed her softly.  “Your lips are cold.”  Darcy whispered against them, and before she could speak, he leaned into her again, warming them with his gentle touch, and hearing her sigh, explored the welcoming softness of her mouth while puffs of their frozen breath swirled around them. 

He drew away and smiled into her eyes.  Elizabeth shook her head and winding her fingers up the back of his neck, drew his face back down.  Her warm breath caressed his face and he felt the familiar tingling sensation beginning in the pit of his stomach and spreading down to his groin.  “Lizzy . . .”  Parting his lips, he pressed his mouth to hers again, taking his time and pulling her body ever closer.  Elizabeth’s mouth lingered over his, and they caressed slowly, coming away and joining to gently meet again and again.  Darcy moved his mouth from the heat of her reddened lips to cool against her cheek.  Elizabeth breathed in his scent as he left a trail of tender warmth along her jaw.   “Shall we?”  He asked huskily against her ear.

“What do you have in mind . . .?”  She whispered and gasped when his teeth nipped her throat.

Darcy’s hands drew her hips forward to press against his, and he lifted his head to find her gloriously hazy eyes looking up at him.  Reaching behind, he smiled and opened the door.  “Ohhhh, I think that you well know.” 

“I have a fairly good idea.”  She laughed and entered the cabin, “Perhaps we can start here and finish back at home where it is warm . . .”  Looking back, she startled when she saw the humour and desire leave his expression.  “Will?”  Turning, she saw what caught his eye.  “Oh!” 

“What is all this?”  Darcy strode into the small room.  All that it contained were two cots, a table and two chairs, and a rudimentary Franklin stove.  On the table was a lump of cheese, surrounded by smaller pieces, some with human teeth marks in them, set upon the piece of cloth in which it had been wrapped.  Beside it were the remains of a loaf of brown bread, and a jug of ale.  That caught his eye and he picked it up, giving it a sniff and recoiling when he spotted the body of a mouse inside.  Setting it down, he looked carefully at the jug.  “This was filled at the inn in Lambton.”  Pointing to the symbol on the front he explained, “This is their brewer’s mark.”

“Would one of your men bring ale here?”

“He certainly would not have left it here, besides he would bring something from our brewery.  And by the signs of vermin activity, I would say that this food has not been here since the walnut harvest in September.  This is relatively fresh.”  He walked around the room and picked up a sack lying on the bed.  Opening it, he dumped out the contents.  “Clothes and more food.” 

“Are there any papers?

“No . . . wait; a ticket stub from the mail-coach . . . From London.” 

Elizabeth’s hand went to her mouth.  “Oh Will, could these be . . . Mr. Christmas’s things?  Could he have stayed here?”

“I believe so.”  He looked around the room and saw another bag lying on the floor.  Again, he dumped the contents out.  “A second man, you see, the shirt is half the size of that one?”  He nodded over to the other cot.  “It is of finer material as well.”  Elizabeth took off her gloves and felt the fabric.  “This was someone who enjoyed quality but could not afford the best.”

“It was not made for him.”  Elizabeth said softly.  “If I made you a shirt, you would see the care in my stitches.  This is a good fabric but the shirt was made hurriedly by an inferior tailor.”  Darcy kissed her cheek and she blushed when their eyes met and she saw the admiring smile on his face.  “Hush.”

“I did not say anything.”  He returned to the pile of clothes and old newspapers on the cot and looked through it.  “This man can read; it seems . . .” He stopped and spoke quietly.  “He
was
here.” 

“Who?”  She joined him as he stared down at the jumble of items. 

He pointed and walked away to stand at the open doorway.  Turning back, she picked up a piece of paper.  It was a drawing, the artist had some skill, and it depicted a man seated on a bench in a garden, a man with the soft smile of love in his eyes.  Elizabeth recognized him immediately, and the expression on his face was one that she understood well.  At the bottom, there was a note, “To the man of my heart, forever yours, Georgiana.”  Elizabeth murmured.  “He carried this with him . . .”

“Elizabeth, please do not suggest that he is capable of caring for her.”  His voice had become tight and his hand rubbed at his chest.  “She could take pen to paper to draw
him
, but could not write to
me
?” 

She tucked the paper into her coat and embraced him. “This was months ago, Will.  She has come such a long way in her thinking since then.” 

“I know . . . I know.”  He swallowed and focussed on Pemberley House.  “I am . . . I am so afraid that he will find out about the baby . . . I cannot believe that he will not try to take advantage again somehow.  After she gives birth we can shrug it off and call him a liar, but while she is still carrying the baby her future remains in danger.  Despite everything, nothing has really changed from the day I learned of her ruin.  It is still a desperate secret to be guarded from the world.  Everything rides on the success of this trip.”  He reached for Elizabeth and closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers.  “Let us return.  It is time for us to go to Scotland and finish this.” 

Elizabeth looked up at the defeated man and pulling his face down, kissed him.  He swallowed and shook his head, and she kissed him again, putting all of her love into the caress.  His eyes opened and met hers.  Again she kissed him, and spoke determinedly, “I do not see any reason why we need to rush back this very moment.”  Giving him a little push, he stumbled out of the cabin and she closed the door firmly behind her. 

“Lizzy!” 

She took his hand and squeezed it hard.  “Now . . . I believe that you were introducing me to the rocks and trees of Pemberley.” 

“You declared the rocks evil.”  He murmured while staring at the cliff.

“Are you going to nitpick or go walking with me?”  Elizabeth demanded.   

Darcy looked to the manor and feeling her grip tighten, turned away, took her gloves from her fist, and carefully fitted them back onto her hands.  He held them and caressed his thumb over the outline of her ring.  He looked up to hold her eyes, then entwined their fingers.  “Lead on, Mrs. Darcy, I will follow you anywhere.”

22 FEBRUARY 1812

My dear girl,

I pray with all of my heart that you are well.   You have been on my mind constantly since we parted, and I am deeply sorry that we did not say goodbye as we should.  By now I am sure that your brother has convinced you that we are not married.  And as much as it pains me to say this, I admit that it is true.  I deceived you, my dear.  I fell in love with you but did not have the courage to face your brother, and once I had your love, I found that I also did not have the courage to let you go.  For the first time in my life, a woman cared for me.  I became addicted to your love, but had no clear method to support my desire in a gentlemanly way, and so, reluctantly, I let you go. 

I know what you are thinking, I am a grown man.  How could I not have run to London and knocked on the front door to Darcy House to ask for your hand properly?  But you see, my dear girl, I have knocked on that door many times before, and I knew that if I were to come again, I would not have been given that which I truly sought.  And so stupidly, blinded by love, I urged you to come away with me.  It was wonderful, my dear.  I will never regret the time we shared.  I treasure the love and trust that you gave me. 

But at last, after so many months apart, I have finally come to accept that you and I will never be together.  After my reprehensible behaviour, I know that your brother will never permit me to see you again, and so, I will lock away those precious months in my heart.  I will pull out the memories of your sweet kiss whenever I feel lonely.  I promise you, I will never speak a word of our love to anyone.  You are free to marry a man who does have the courage of his convictions and will face your brother as a proper man should.  I just pray that somewhere inside of you, a piece of me will remain.

I ask one last favour of you.  I have enclosed a letter for your brother.  I feel that my repentance will not be complete until I approach him at last.  I pray that he will present me with the gift I desire.

Please forgive me, my dear lovely girl, never forget me,

George

“I hope that you enjoyed your day on your own, Georgiana?”  Elizabeth asked and noted the quick movement as her sister nearly jumped out of her seat and a paper was quickly stuffed under her skirt.  Elizabeth pretended not to notice and sat beside her on the sofa.  “We had a lovely walk.  Your brother was so eager to show me as much as he could of the estate before we leave.  I know that we will sleep very well tonight after so much exercise.”

“Oh.”  She looked to the closed door and back to Elizabeth.  “Is he . . . coming to join us?”

“Not yet.  We stopped at the conservatory to warm, and when we left and were faced with the stables, we thought of another person who must be taken into our circle of trust.”   She sighed.  “The servants’ coach will be hired, but our coachman will remain with us for the entire trip, so there is no avoiding telling Mr. Harris of your situation.  He will see you increasing and will be driving us home with the baby.  He will choose his most trustworthy footman to accompany us, probably Ben, who accompanied Mr. Henry on the trip to rescue you from Mr. Wickham.  He has proven himself to be loyal.” 

Georgiana’s face coloured and she darted a look to her skirt.  “How many people will know?”

“I pray that it is no more than eleven plus the servants at Sommerwald who will not know who you are.  I pray that Mr. Wickham does not hear of it.  I cannot bear to think of how crushed Fitzwilliam would be.”  She looked Georgiana in the eye.  “We visited the cabin and discovered that Mr. Wickham
was
here with Mr. Christmas.”

“He was?”  Georgiana’s hand went to her mouth.  “But . . . I did not know that you thought he was . . .”

“No . . .” Elizabeth sighed.  “No, we did not tell you that.”

“How can you know that he was there?”  Elizabeth unfolded a paper she had in her hand and showed it to Georgiana.  “George . . .” Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked upon the drawing. 

“Fitzwilliam was ready to pack us up to leave for Scotland today when he saw that.  It ripped open wounds that have barely had a chance to heal and that was just after a single glance.”  Elizabeth watched the tears begin rolling down her face.  “Did you draw this?”

She looked into the soft eyes and remembered the night she had drawn him.  She could hear his voice, and now she could feel his baby moving within her. 
Was Fitzwilliam wrong about you?
  It was so hard to think clearly while the memory of the happy times with him filled her mind.  So very clearly she could feel his kisses and remembered how gentle he was, and how proud he was to walk with her, showing off his bride to everyone they met. 
This is Mrs. Wickham . . . Mrs. George Wickham . . .
  And there she was on his arm, smiling up at her tall, handsome husband. 
But he was never my husband . . .
 

Georgiana felt Elizabeth’s gaze upon her and wiped her face.  “I had thought to take it with me when Fitzwilliam and Richard came, but I did not have time to look.  I was . . . I was in the carriage within minutes of their knock.”

“Is this how he really looked at you?  This was not your imagination?”

“No . . .” She whispered and then thinking of her brother’s anger and how he had nearly died, she demanded, “What was George doing in the cabin with that man?  I cannot believe that he meant to harm Fitzwilliam or you!  Why was he there?” 

“We can only guess.”  Folding up the drawing, Elizabeth kept it in her lap.  Georgiana stared at it and started with her next questions.  “What were you reading before I came in?   The paper you hid under your skirt?  I was standing at the door for a quarter hour and you did not notice me.  It must have been something very engrossing and important?  You looked very confused.”  She held out her hand and waited.   Slowly, Georgiana pulled the letter from her skirt and laid it in her sister’s palm.  Elizabeth opened it, and other than her eyes widening when she saw the signature, she had no reaction as she read.  Georgiana watched her anxiously.  “What were you going to do with this?”  She asked softly.

“I . . . I knew that I could not give it to Fitzwilliam.  I . . . I could not . . . I did not want to hurt his heart.”

“Yes, he rubbed his chest after looking at the drawing.”  Elizabeth murmured.  “Would you have shown it to me, or perhaps Aunt Susan?”

“I . . . I think so.  It . . . I . . . I was thinking that maybe I should not show anyone.”

“But he mentions a letter for Fitzwilliam?”   She looked at her expectantly.  “Where is it?”  Georgiana pulled the still sealed envelope from under her skirt.  Elizabeth took it and held it with the drawing.  Then picking up Wickham’s letter to Georgiana, she read it over again.  “What did you think of this?  Do you understand that he was not entirely truthful?”

“He does not care for me?”

“Oh, I believe that he does.  His heart was certainly touched by you; his expression in your drawing cannot be a lie.  You can take some comfort in that, but the rest of his statements . . . I think you must read with open eyes for the hidden meaning.”  Moving closer, she held the letter between them and pointed, “He could not support you in a gentlemanly way.  Well, if he had not given up the living at Kympton, if he had not spent the four thousand pounds that your brother gave him, he could have supported you as any gentleman’s younger son would.  It may not have been Pemberley, but it
would
have been comfortable.  He says that he has knocked on your brother’s door many times; well of course he has, each time looking for another handout.  And the last time he was refused.”