Not Quite Darcy (17 page)

She wore a thin white nightgown. She didn't even have the mercy to wrap herself in a robe. Her hair was undone and spilled down her shoulders. She was ethereal, a vision, and he could not pull his gaze from her.

“Eliza, you're unable to sleep?”

“Not really. Earlier today we were interrupted. I thought we could finish our conversation now.”

In a nightgown? He wanted to ask, “Have you no pity? Can't you see how the vision of you in this destroys me?” To go against conventions so wasn't simply down to her being an American, he knew. It was part of her Elizaness. He felt his cheeks warm. He hated it when they did that and turned to hide it from her.

“Ah, yes. Well, it was nothing, really,” he said.

“Okay, I'll just be going back to bed then.”

Well, damnation. He hadn't really expected her to leave. She was supposed to stay and coax it out of him. Tease him and do delicious things with her hands. Those were the steps of the dance, were they not?

He turned to face her, feeling a bit frantic, and saw her standing there, smiling at him, hand on her hip. She had most certainly not intended to leave, but she wasn't going to entice it out of him either.

“Well, there was something, actually,” he said. “It doesn't concern the matter we discussed earlier, however. A situation has arisen and I…erm, well, I thought of you. You often have such an unusual way of looking at things that I was curious about your perception of the matter.”

She watched him, patiently. The arm she'd placed on her hip pulled her nightgown taut across her breasts, creating a most revealing and pleasant sight. She reminded him of one of the Aphrodite statues from the Renaissance. He forced himself to look away again, feeling a coward.

“Forgive me. On second thought, I should perhaps not broach this subject with you. It's not the topic one normally discusses with a woman. And I find it extremely uncomfortable not to know how to begin.”

“Oh dear God, William. You didn't lock up your Nebuchadnezzar again, did you?”

His heart thudded in his ears. “No! Eliza, you say the most remarkable things. But no, I certainly did not. I actually came to seek your advice on a financial matter.”

“Oh? Well, I didn't see that one coming!” She laughed.

“It concerns my uncle, primarily. I've received a letter from him. He's to arrive for a visit in a fortnight and I believe there will be some unpleasantness.” She didn't respond, but watched him with a serious expression. “You see, my inheritance is held in a trust controlled by him and I've run into some trouble regarding his spending habits of late.”

“He's wasting your money? What, with like gambling and loose women?”

“Not at all. Quite the opposite, really. He's recently made a sizeable donation to the Society for the Suppression of Vice. I feel that it's money that Mother can ill-afford to spend, given her current state of health. Also, the organization itself is troublesome to me.”

“How so?” She took a step toward him.

“Some of their tactics, I fear, are a little harsh. They have worked most effectively to forbid the distribution of information about human biology to the working classes. It seems profoundly wrong to me to control this type of information, especially when its dissemination is based upon class.” His eyes sparked and he shook his head. “In addition, they aggressively close down houses of ill repute, forcing these unfortunate women out into the street. Not that I promote such establishments, Eliza! But, I would favor Mr. Gladstone's policies, of reforming the women, training them in a service. Oh, forgive me. I'm—I've quite begun a lecture, haven't I?”

Eliza grinned again. “I don't think I've ever heard you say so much in one go, William. You sound very passionate about this topic.”

“It's one I feel strongly about. To promote ignorance and unkindness cannot better humanity.” He took a step toward her, his feet moving of their own accord.

“Well, I think I'm with you. These guys sound like major chauvinists. So, how is it that your uncle can give your money to them?”

“I was quite young when my father died and Mother gave control of my inheritance to her brother. He controls my trust in perpetuity.”

She made an unpleasant face. “A long time then?”

“Even upon her death. I own our home, but little else. The vast majority of our wealth falls under his control. Lately I've become concerned about his investment choices.”

“Can't you stand up to him?”

“Mother hates a quarrel. When I disagree, he makes it most unpleasant for her. He insists that she be included in all our discussions because he knows that I'll have no choice but to acquiesce to his demands.”

“Using your mother as an emotional hostage to get his way? Don't let him push you around like that, William. He sounds like an assclown.”

Her mind worked in the most mysterious ways. Assclown? She looked at him, her green eyes flashing in anger over his uncle. He felt amazed and humbled to see her so moved on his behalf. “The trouble is,” he said, “that I'm not entirely sure as to how I should go about besting the man.”

“Look at it like a battle. Like boxing! What do you do when your opponent is using a weakness against you?”

“You defend the weakness more effectively or you try a new attack,” he replied, recalling long afternoons sparring with Perry.

“If your weakness is your mother, you would then…”

“Remove her from the picture. Find a way to have a discussion, but circumventing his ability to involve her. Why wasn't this immediately evident to me? That's bloody brilliant!” He was, of course, horrified at allowing such a vulgarity to slip in her presence. “Please, forgive me, Eliza.”

“As always, there is nothing to forgive, William.” She laughed. “You can handle this quite easily. I suspect you already knew how. Just like boxing or life. You identify what you want, then you work to get what you want. Sometimes it feels very frightening to pursue that thing. Sometimes it takes more courage than you believe you have. But when you want something, or someone, sometimes you have to take bold steps to get it. Because that someone won't always make the first move.”

As she looked at him, hand still on her hip, he knew they were no longer talking about uncles or boxing or life in general.

“And now, William, if that is all, I think I should return to my bed. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Oh no. This wasn't the way it was supposed to work. She had to know how difficult this was for him.

“So, is that all, William?” She had the audacity to smile invitingly.

“Yes, Eliza, I believe it is. Shall I—shall I see you to your—that is, I should like to try to see you to your room.”

“Do, or do not. There is no try.” At that, she burst into lighthearted laughter.

A week ago, her laughter would have shamed him, certain she was mocking him. He trusted her more than that now. Her easy joy was just another part of her charm, another one of her pretty mysteries.

When he reached up to touch her hair, his fingers were trembling, but he stroked it all the same, and bent down to place a soft kiss upon her lips. She responded eagerly by brushing the back of his neck with her fingertips and returned his kiss with another gentle, nibbling kiss of her own.

Before she could pull away, he deepened the kiss ever so slightly—just tasting her lips with his tongue. The last time she'd kissed him in such a fashion, he'd gasped, creating an uncomfortable sucking sensation, rather like a breezy cavern. He'd since spent a great deal of thought on the matter, and this time he remembered not to breathe through his mouth. She responded well to this style of kissing and made the slightest cooing sound. How could she coo? This sound completely undid him. He had no defense to it.

Bending lower, he delivered a line of very bold kisses to her jaw line, tasting his way up to her ear. It was so pleasant when she'd done this to him the previous evening. Indeed, she seemed to be enjoying it as well, making little sighs and tugging at his neck enthusiastically.

She looked like a vision. Her hair all tumbled wildly about her face, her lips slightly swollen from kisses—his kisses. He leaned down to capture her mouth again, in an even hungrier kiss, tasting the depths of her, tongues dancing and sliding against one another in a passionate tangle.

When he placed a kiss just behind her ear, she leaned against him more tightly. He could feel her breasts pressing into his chest as her breathing accelerated. His own reaction was becoming evident as well, as his trousers were growing tight across his groin. Instead of pulling back, he continued to hold her close, allowing her to feel him—know the effect she was having upon him.

Her hips moved against his erection then. Aware of it. Attracted to it, to him. Rubbing against him gently in the most beautiful dance. It was almost all he could do to remain standing. Such fantastic bliss.

His hand shyly traveled up her side, tracing a path past her hips, her waist and up to the side of her breast, pressed so tightly against him. Sweet God, she was so soft. He'd had no idea. First, he trailed a teasing path against it with the backs of his fingertips and then, more boldly, gently stroked the side of her breast with his hand.

“Oh, William.” She sighed and arched into him.

While his body vibrated with need, caution suddenly flooded his mind. This dance was one that he could not resist, yet seemed to be doomed from the outset. Recalling the concerned look in his mother's eyes, he pulled away from their embrace.

She looked up at him, breathless and glowing. Her trust in him, absolute. She gave herself to him in a way that no person ever had. Before her, he hadn't conceived that such a gift was even possible and yet now this fantastic spark of a woman was looking at him in a way that it was almost too beautiful to bear.

“Eliza, this is wonderful, breathtaking.” He took a deep gulp of much needed air. “But as pleasurable as this is, I believe we should say good night.”

“I agree. We should retire to our rooms and…‘not think of England.' Someday it would be lovely to not think of England with you.” She looked at him wistfully. “Good night, William.”

“Good night, my love.”

Oh dear god, had he just said that aloud? Had she noticed?

Her response was another one of her maddening unreadable expressions. She almost looked mournful, for a moment. Then she smiled one final time and slipped away, closing the library door behind her.

Chapter Eighteen

Eliza was just leaving Mrs. Brown's bedroom the next day when she saw William walking up the hallway. He was distracted again and fiddling with several slim paper-covered parcels.

She stepped out in the center of the hallway, so that he'd have no choice but to stop. “I seem to often find you in this hallway with mysterious packages wrapped in brown paper, William.”

Though she'd clearly startled him, he wasn't flustered this time, nor did he blush, but met her eyes with a shy grin. “Eliza, I find my acquaintance with you inspires a great deal of purchasing of unusual items.”

“May I see?” She stepped toward him.

“If I don't show them to you, I suppose you would have no choice but to search my room again.” He laughed and pulled the paper from his purchases, revealing two books:
Fanny Hill
 by John Cleland and a book on human anatomy. Placed on top of the anatomy book and bound with bright red ribbon were a small collection of French postcards featuring nudes in tastefully erotic poses.

William had purchased these?

“I thought a proper education about these matters might be in order,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You certainly seem to be covering all your bases here. I'm proud of you. After all, a mind is a terrible thing to waste.”

“Eliza, I'm afraid the Society for the Suppression of Vice would be quite put out with these purchases. Could you manage to consider this another secret between us?”

“I won't tell a soul,” she whispered conspiratorially. It was astounding to see these changes in him. The way he boldly met her gaze, instead of shyly glancing away. The way he strode up the hall replacing his former faltering gait.

“I have another secret for you as well. No, not a secret, a surprise. It's to be on Saturday. I shall not confess what it is, however.” He grinned widely at her, eyes sparkling with suppressed anticipation.

How charmingly Williamesque this was, to tell her to prepare for a surprise. She suspected that surprises were quite new to him and the idea that when one announced it, the “surprise” aspect pretty much went out the window.

“I look forward to it. Perhaps the surprise will be something pleasant for you as well?” His new purchases had turned her mind toward several more sensual possibilities.

“Yes, it shall be. I'm quite looking forward to it. I've made arrangements for you to be free of your usual duties on Saturday afternoon and evening.”

Oh, this was sounding better and better. Whatever erotic adventure he was taking her on was going to last for most of the day? Her mind flashed back to that moment of watching him the other night, bare-chested and stroking himself by the moonlight.

Continuing down the hallway, he called over his shoulder, “Please inform Dora that she should prepare for a surprise as well.”

Wait. What?

For the rest of the week, Mrs. Brown's health dictated the activities of the household. Her days were relatively normal, but by the time the evening fog rolled in she dissolved into coughing spells which lasted for hours. The center of all activity in the household became her fading health, the steady 
hack-hack
 of her cough was its faltering heartbeat, echoing though the walls to Eliza's room every night.

The temperature had dropped and a spell of bad weather hung over the city. Damp air crept in under the windows and no amount of fire could chase the chill from the rooms. What she would give for a nice portable electric heater. Everyone in the household seemed to suffer from the cold, but no one more than William's fragile mother.

As Mrs. Brown's health dwindled, so did William's inner flame. Dark circles began to form beneath his tired eyes. Most mornings Eliza found him dozing in a chair by his mother's bedside, keeping vigil.

Eliza's longing to soothe him grew as the week dragged by, but carving out a way to being alone with him proved impossible. They were only able to catch the briefest stolen moments together: a shared look as they passed one another in the hall, her hand on his shoulder as he watched his mother sleep. Once she had a quick moment to simply hold him, standing outside his mother's door, arms around one another like eighth-grade dance partners. Then his mother began another coughing spell and he broke the embrace.

By late Friday, however, Mrs. Brown had taken a turn for the better. She'd fallen into an undisturbed sleep early in the evening and William had finally been able to rest in his own bed for a full night.

Saturday morning dawned and William was off on errands while Eliza sat at Mrs. Brown's side. Eliza had intended to tell her patient a new tale; one she was convinced would be very distracting which involved meshing the storylines of
Titanic
with
Jaws
. However, Mrs. Brown has insisted on the comfort of an old favorite, so Eliza read
Wuthering Heights
instead. As she read aloud, her throat hurt mightily. Since everyone in the household was suffering from a cold, she supposed she should have expected it.

She was relieved to be interrupted by two quick knocks on the door and Mrs. MacLaughlin bearing a lunch tray. As the housekeeper busied herself setting up the meal, William entered the room looking slightly flushed. He fiddled with his shirtsleeves and shifted his feet nervously.

Eliza understood the meaning behind his strange behavior when he began speaking to Mrs. Brown. “Mother, I am required to be away for the remainder of the afternoon. I've made arrangements for Mrs. MacLaughlin to tend to your care.”

“Oh? I would not like to inconvenience her. Is Bessie not able to attend me?”

William tugged on his hair. “I've arranged to take Bessie, Dora and Davy on an outing.”

Mrs. Brown gave a curt nod.

“Taking the staff on an outing is an event they're accustomed to, Mother.
It's something I've done twice a year for some time.”

Mrs. Brown glanced at William, then wordlessly began to eat her soup. The sudden frost between mother and son was mystifying to Eliza. Not knowing what else to do and feeling increasingly awkward, she got up to leave the room.

William shot her a glance with a look bordering on shame. “We'll be attending the
Opera Comique
, Eliza, if you'd be so good as to attire yourself in leisure dress.”

“Certainly, Mr. Brown.” She hoped her voice sounded more enthused than she felt. Opera? What could be stuffier and more unfun than opera?

“Davy will have the carriage prepared by quarter to one. Dora should be joining you shortly.”

Eliza slipped into her room wishing she had something special to wear, but knowing that precious little lurked inside her wardrobe. After stripping off her maid's uniform, she pulled her blue and white frock over her head. She buttoned up her rather plain dress, then sat before the small mirror on the back of her wardrobe door, trying to arrange her hair into something that wasn't quite so mercilessly dull.

Eliza heard footsteps sounding up the stairs and then down the hall to her room. A set of a set of rapid knocks rained down upon her door. Even before Eliza could lift the latch, Dora burst into the room, an explosion of breathless excitement. Her arms were loaded with bags and she threw them onto Eliza's bed.

Dora's dress was a bright shade of frosting-pink with white trim and a wide skirt. It reminded Eliza of a cupcake, and Dora was an explosion of cuteness. The girl's bonnet was pink and white and, if the cupcake imagery hadn't been driven home quite hard enough, was decorated with faux cherries. Eliza couldn't help but smile.

“You look lovely, Dora! You're so very…pink!” Eliza beamed a grin.

“Oh thank you! My sisters and mum helped. I rushed over as quick as I could to help you. That's what all these bags are for. Trimmings. I didn't reckon you'd have much by way of that.”

“You guessed right,” Eliza said. “This is pretty much it.”

“Oh, I'll see you to rights. Borrowed some things from my sister, I did. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be a daisy all the way down to the ground.”

“You're a regular fairy godmother, Dora. Bippity-boppity-boo.”

Dora shot her a slightly worried expression.

“Sorry,” Eliza covered. “Another Americanism.”

“I've got just the thing to add a touch of glitz!” Dora pulled out a neatly folded bit of white lace, which turned out to be a detachable collar. Once she fastened it around Eliza's throat, it added a touch of elegance to the simple gown. After standing back to admire her handiwork, Dora pulled out a wide satin ribbon, which was the exact shade of blue to match Eliza's dress.

“I seen you wearing the dress before and knew this would be a perfect match.” Dora was ridiculously pleased with herself. She tied the ribbon about Eliza's waist. “Now sit down on the bed. I'll do your hair. Wait'll you see what I have planned.”

By the time Dora was through, Eliza's hair was in a topknot, with delicate tendrils trailing down the sides. She'd topped it off with a bonnet which matched the lacy collar about her neck. Dora then insisted that Eliza put on a pair of white gloves. As they buttoned up her boots, Eliza realized that the only bits of exposed skin were her face and neck. She felt distinctly unpretty and more as though she was geared up in a Victorian hazmat suit.

Two quick raps sounded and Dora opened the door to greet William with a curtsy so enthusiastic it bordered on assault, causing both William and Eliza to burst into laughter. This afternoon would be the perfect antidote to the miserable week they'd all experienced.

“So, the opera? That's the surprise?” Eliza asked with as much fake enthusiasm as she could muster.

“It's not exactly an opera, Eliza.” William pulled on his hair. “
Opera Comique
 is the name of the theatre. We're to be attending the latest play by Mr. Gilbert.”

“It's 
The Sweethearts
!” Dora bubbled. “Currently all the rage in London. Just opened two weeks ago! How Mr. Brown managed to get tickets I'll never know! And box seats, Eliza? Did he tell you? Never had that before. Don't even know of anybody who's had that before.”

William smiled at them both. He looked a little less exhausted. Indeed, he cut a very sharp figure in a chocolate brown suit. His usually unruly hair had been tamed as well.

“I'll just make sure Davy's got the carriage pulled around front then. If you'll excuse me, sir.” Dora bobbed a curtsy toward William before flouncing down the back stairs.

William didn't move, however. He blocked the doorway looking at Eliza with a kind of reverent adoration. “You are a vision, Eliza.”

“Oh, thanks,” she breezed.

He reached out to her, his warm hand touching her gloved fingers. “No, please, don't dismiss it. You take my breath away.”

“Thank you, William.”

“And I've made you blush! I have been painfully aware of your ability to cause this reaction in me, but until this moment I wasn't aware that I had the capacity to do the same. This day is a success already. Shall we go to the carriage?” He was absolutely adorable, beaming with pride.

They hurried down the stairs and bundled into the carriage: Dora and Eliza shared a seat, while William sat across from them. Eliza kept her gaze trained out the window as they jostled their way to the center of London. She'd not seen a thing outside their neighborhood so far, and was excited about an opportunity to play tourist for a while.

The closer they drew to the heart of the city, the darker the sky grew. A thick layer of soot seemed to hang in the air, even though it was afternoon. The acrid smoke that wafted in through the window stung her eyes and made her cough, tearing up her already aching throat. The carriage rattled over cobblestones that were covered in a layer of horse manure, creating a stench that would rival any high school locker room. The houses they passed weren't as well cared for as those in William's neighborhood, either. She'd expected a sort of Currier and Ives version of London and the reality of it was a bit more ghetto.

After a time, they entered the heart of the city and the buildings became grander though the streets were clogged with wagons and pedestrians. They pulled to a halt in front of a large building and after a moment, Davy came around to assist them from the carriage. William spoke with Davy regarding how to rejoin them once he'd stabled the rig, then led the two women onto a very grand avenue which was filled with people in varying degrees of finery lining up to attend the theatre.

They entered the building through a long tunnel that seemed a very dark counterpoint to the spectacle of the street it bordered. The interior of the theatre, however, was fantastically ornate. Gold leaf fixtures and elaborate illustrations covered the walls and ceiling, which contrasted beautifully with the lush dark-red upholstery. Bringing an almost dreamlike atmosphere to the experience, the scene was illuminated by gaslight. Eliza longed to tell him how much it reminded her of Disneyland, but knew he'd only be mystified by the reference.

William escorted them to their private box, which was outfitted with upholstered satin chairs and came complete with opera glasses. Once she and Dora sat, William took the center seat between them, brushing against Eliza's arm with a scandalous grin as he did so.

An out-of-breath Davy appeared after a few moments and took the seat next to the very pleased Dora. The play had the good timing to start almost the second Davy arrived.

The play was a romantic comedy, and was very entertaining. Occasionally Eliza had a little trouble making out what the actors were saying due to their thick English accents. She had a feeling that if subtitles were available in theaters, she'd be catching a lot more of the jokes.

Throughout the first act, she felt the steady presence of William by her side, the warm comforting thrum of him. Sometimes he would brush against her arm and grin widely at her. After a particularly witty line, he'd glance over to her as if to say
“You're having a pleasant time? Did I do well, Eliza?”
It was distracting and endearing and for that one afternoon, she was able to brush aside thoughts of Lancaster, York, her unknown mission and other assorted thunderclouds. For this brief moment in time, she allowed herself to be completely happy. Looking at his smiling face, she decided he was completely happy as well.