Not Quite Darcy (22 page)

Eliza reluctantly left the room. As she wound down the darkened back stairs, she wondered what had just happened. Had their too-brief moment meant anything? And if it did, what should she do now?

Rain fell down in sheets the next morning, but inside the Brown home, it felt as bright and warm as a summer afternoon. William had announced to the household that his uncle had been called back to Yorkshire due to “unforeseen circumstances” and would be leaving at noon.

The staff made no attempt whatsoever to hide their delight. Even Mrs. MacLaughlin hummed while she made breakfast that morning. Well, she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but she made groaning, musical sounds and her facial muscles rearranged themselves into something that wasn't quite a scowl when she greeted Eliza that morning.

Dora, too, seemed very light of spirits and buzzed through her morning chores in record time, before running out to the carriage house to “give Davy a hand.”

William spent most of the morning with his mother. Eliza suspected it was to keep guard over her, should Uncle Thomas attempt an end run around William's explanations at his departure, but the foul man remained firmly planted in his room. Luckily, pride was one of his many character defects, and he would not admit to anyone that William was the reason he was leaving.

Mrs. Brown was determined that her brother should be given the utmost respect, and so she insisted that she join the rest of the household to give him a proper send-off in front of the house, despite the icy rain.

When Dora gave word that Davy had the carriage drawn up in front of the house, Eliza assisted Mrs. Brown down the stairs. William followed behind with a shawl and umbrella for his mother. Uncle Thomas remained in his room with the door closed.

The sight that greeted them when they exited the home was nothing short of spectacular. Dora and Davy had spent the morning decorating the carriage for Uncle Thomas. The harness was adorned with flowers and they'd threaded brightly colored ribbons through the spokes of the wheels. The horses' tails were bedecked with more brightly colored ribbons, and their manes had been fashioned into a series of ponytails. It was a jaw-dropping display of tacky, and it was absolutely delightful.

“Oh my!” Mrs. Brown's eyes widened in shock.

William focused his attention on the umbrella, trying to best shield his mother from the rain, but Eliza could see by the insistent tug on the corners of his mouth that he was trying very hard to suppress his laughter. Eliza shot an approving smile at Dora and Davy, who were noticeably proud of their accomplishment.

Finally, at twenty past twelve, Uncle Thomas arrived on the front step to look upon the rig in horror.

“Who?” was all he managed to say.

Dora, bold girl, stepped out and bobbed a curtsy to the uncle. “Not to be speaking out of turn, sir. But I wished to apologize for anything I may have done that has caused offense. I've decorated the carriage as a going-away gift.”

“What have you… It looks like something a ten-year-old girl would…”

William leaned toward his uncle, interrupting him. He said only a few words in the man's ear, very quietly. Whatever it was had a profound effect.

“Thank you…Dora.” Uncle Thomas nodded curtly.

“I'm sorry your visit was cut short, Thomas.” Mrs. Brown embraced her brother. “I hope you'll visit us again soon.”

“Well, yes,” Thomas replied.

William stepped toward his mother and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, shielding her from the rain with the umbrella. Uncle Thomas climbed into the garish My Little Pony rig and snapped the blinds shut. As Davy gathered the daisy-festooned reins and tsked the horses, he gave a very bold wink to those assembled in front of the house.

Eliza leaned over to Dora. “Did you think Uncle Thomas would like the way you decorated the carriage?”

Dora laughed heartily. “Oh no, Eliza! I knew he'd hate it, but that he'd be unable to do anything about it. I'm not as stupid as people think I am. Was Davy's idea.” She paused and looked at Eliza, her eyes bright. “Davy loves me, you know.”

Dora then turned her gaze toward William, who was escorting his mother back into the house. “Love makes you brave. It can work all manner of miracles. Mr. Brown has surprised us all, hasn't he? But that's what love can do.”

She smiled at Eliza. “Like I said, I'm not as stupid as people think I am.”

Eliza could only nod as Dora turned toward the house. It was scarily impressive. When faced with a common enemy, the Brown household came together as a united force—elevating passive-aggressive action to something approaching art. A timid mama's boy could face down a tyrant, a dessert could tame a beast and maybe, just maybe, a modern girl could find a path back to William.

Feeling hope for the first time in a long while, Eliza followed the damp but happy crowd back into the house.

Chapter Twenty-Three

William awoke feeling like a new man. He couldn't help but whistle a tune as he dressed for the day. After Uncle Thomas had departed, the world seemed bright with possibilities. His mother had enjoyed a week of relatively good health and the entire Brown household seemed to glow. It seemed even Mother Nature was pleased. The sun beamed down on the roses bordering the front gate—likely the only blooms left on the Brown property, after Dora and Davy had finished with the carriage.

As he opened his bedroom door, he heard the sound of Eliza's cheerful voice coming from his mother's room. He reached for the latch and lingered there, basking in the sound of Eliza's spark, a wide grin on his lips.

After carefully tucking his smile away, he opened the door to find Eliza setting up their breakfast trays. He forced his gaze from her. “Good morning, Mother. You're looking very bright today.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Breakfast looks delightful, Eliza,” he said. When she beamed a smile toward him, he focused his attention on his breakfast, staring at the strips of bacon as though they held important secrets.

“Thank you, sir,” Eliza said, just before she left the room. William leaned over and greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek before settling into the chair by her side.

They chatted amiably over breakfast, discussing various household affairs and recent goings on with his fellow club members. It wasn't until after Dora had cleared away the tray that his mother folded her hands on top of her covers and gave him a familiar look—the one that warned him she was about to broach a serious topic.

“I received a letter from your uncle.” When William did not reply, she continued. “He came to see me before he left, you know.”

“I thought he'd remained in his room, but I see I've underestimated him. And what did he want from you?”

“He was agitated about a great many things, but primarily he's concerned with your refusal to cooperate regarding the family investments.”

Damn the man. The manipulative bastard couldn't win on his own and once again tried to use an ill woman as a weapon. William took a deep breath and collected himself. There was no avoiding what he must do next. He had to just come out with it. If he'd learned nothing from the otherworldly Eliza, he'd learned that her words held a strange wisdom. And it was time to be firm.

“Mother, regrettably, I cannot discuss these matters with you.”

“Why not?” She looked more surprised than wounded, but he felt horrible all the same.

“Rather than answer your question, I'd like to first ask you one of my own. Do you trust me?”

“Why of course, darling. Why ever would you ask me such a thing?”

“Then I ask you to trust me in my dealings with my uncle. I'm not a fool when it comes to finance.”

“I know that, William. I simply wished to express—”

He reached over to squeeze her hand, interrupting her as gently as possible. Her skin was paper thin and cold to the touch, another reminder of her fragility. “Dr. Hill has told you to avoid stress as much as possible in your condition. You must follow the doctor's orders and trust me in this circumstance. I have our financial concerns well in hand.”

She nodded, her expression was of a schoolgirl caught out of bounds. It gave William the strength to continue. “There is also the matter of tomorrow evening. Our Eliza has been invited to a ball.”

“She?” was all his mother was able to manage.

“Miss Jennie Jerome, the American heiress, has invited her. They met the afternoon I took the staff to the play.”

“Well, yes, I've heard of Jennie Jerome. Who hasn't?” His mother had never looked quite as surprised as she did at this moment.

“When Miss Jerome discovered Eliza was an American as well, she kindly extended an invitation.”

Mother only blinked at him, looking pale and small against her sheets.

William forced himself to continue. “I shall be accompanying Eliza.” He waited for a moment, but his mother did not reply. “I've arranged for Miss Parker to attend you while I'm out. She's a professional nurse.”

His mother looked at him but did not speak. After a few moments of silence, he stood to leave.

“And you do this without a word to me?”

“I do, Mother.” His tone was not apologetic. “I love you, but I do this without asking for your permission.”

“You've changed, son. You never used to speak like this.”

“I do not intend to be disrespectful, Mother.”

There was a long pause before she continued. “She's done something I was unable to do. Turned my boy into a man.”

“She?” He repeated numbly. But he knew. Oh, he knew.

“Bessie, son. I'm not blind.”

He let out an involuntary sigh and looked at his mother with a great deal of love and no small amount of fear as well. Did his mother know how his heart was divided in this? Could she fathom how difficult this was for him as well?

“Son, you must know that your father would have—”

“I am my own man.” He interrupted. “My father chose his path in life and I will choose mine. I love you, Mother, but I must ask you—even in this—to trust me.”

She coughed again and blinked away the tears that were clouding her eyes, her face full of concern and not condemnation.

An awkward silence spun out between them until finally his mother said, “I believe I've quite worn myself out. Do you mind? I'd like to rest now.”

“I shall wish you pleasant dreams, then.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead and she smiled up at him.

“I love you too, my darling,” his mother said as she closed her eyes.

Feeling a strange mixture of terror and elation, he strode to the library and took out a sheet of paper. Before he could second-guess himself, before he could compose it in precisely the correct way, he wrote.

Eliza,

In preparation for the upcoming ball, I thought it might be prudent to meet with you. When the staff has departed for the evening, could you please come to the library?

Yours, William

He stood before the mirror and combed his hair back. Damnable bouncy hair. It was very difficult to be cursed with bad hair. Mr. Darcy and Heathcliff had straight hair, he was sure of it. Straight and smooth and black as night. They were also certain not to have spectacles. He sighed, removed his glasses and placed them on the table.

He wore dark gray trousers and a crisp white shirt. No waistcoat, no jacket. He hoped that his appearance was properly casual. How did one manage to casually appear casual? It shouldn't require such a great deal of effort. He glanced around his room—hoping that his attempts there also appeared appropriately unfussy.

It was then that he heard her tapping lightly on the library door. He'd left the adjoining door ajar for that very purpose, but jolted when he heard her all the same. Taking a deep breath, he slipped into the library and opened the door.

Eliza stood before him wearing the pretty blue frock she'd worn the day of the play. It looked absolutely undamaged, and she—radiant. Her hair was down around her shoulders. He so rarely saw her hair unbound in this manner that it caused his heart rate and breathing to behave in the most erratic manner. He stood aside to grant her entrance, then closed the door behind her.

“I didn't know how to dress.” Her voice was high and she twisted her hands together. “And I really couldn't stand that maid's outfit for another minute. I hope this is okay.”

“More than ‘okay,' Eliza. You're a vision.”

“How is your mother doing tonight?”

A thorn of guilt stung him. “She seemed well. I checked with her a few moments ago. She asked for laudanum, which should give her a few hours rest, at least.”

She began to pluck at her sleeve hem. He'd never seen her nervous before this moment and he couldn't help but feel to blame.

Eliza's breath whooshed out in a sigh. “So, you wanted to talk?”

“Please, come in.” He stepped to her side and stared at her, suddenly unsure about how to proceed. She entered the library and he closed the door behind her. His hand snuck up to tug on his hair, but he caught himself in time and clasped his hands together.

She looked at him with a worried expression. “What's up, William? Something about the ball?”

“I wanted to let you know about some of the preparations I've made regarding the event tomorrow evening.” When she remained silent, he continued. “I've hired a nurse, so you needn't worry about your duties.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him prettily.

“I also didn't wish to presume what sorts of dances you might be familiar with, but I thought that you might feel more comfortable if we reviewed a few of them.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, thank you! I was a little worried about that, to be honest with you.”

“Wonderful.” He held his arms out to her. “The waltz, then?”

She nodded and stepped into his arms. He placed one arm about her waist and resisted the urge to pull her close.

“My dad taught me the box step when I was little. Do you think it's the same thing?” Her green eyes peered up at him. He swallowed. Just having her in his arms at last, after such distance was nearly more than he could take.

“It sounds very similar.” For a few moments, they simply stood in one another's arms, neither of them moving. Then he roused himself from his stupor and began to count. “One, two, three and one, two, three.” Leading off with his left foot, he took a large step, followed by two short steps. She followed with little hesitation. They took one turn around the small room without a single misstep. It was remarkable, really.

“Oh, yes! I remember this perfectly!” She sounded so pleased with herself that he couldn't help but squeeze her. She leaned her head against his chest and her hair tickled his neck and he felt something turn to warm goo inside his chest. Her lavender and soap scent was astonishingly arousing.

He stopped counting and dancing and simply held her there. When she wrapped her arms around his middle, he stroked her hair tentatively.

“I've missed you terribly, Eliza.”

“Oh, thank hell.” She pulled back from their embrace and her lower lip began to tremble. “Because I've missed the shit out of you, William.”

She said the most amazing things. He was helpless against her. He reached out with his thumb, anxious to soothe her trembling lip. Upon his touch, she stepped toward him. He gathered her into his arms. All thoughts about where she'd come from, all his doubts, vanished at the spark of her touch.

He bent down and captured her lips in a fierce kiss. She wrapped her arms so tightly around his neck that she was lifted off the ground. He stroked her sides, while he pressed her flush against the door. His tongue slid around and along hers, tasting her hungrily as her tongue joined in the dance and they breathed one another in.

She was the one to break the kiss, pulling back and gasping for air, with something urgent on her mind.

“Why?”

“Why did I miss you?”

“No, why—this? Sorry, I'm not very eloquent with this stuff. Why this, why now—if you don't really believe me.” She looked at him, her eyes wide with hope. “You don't really believe me, do you?”

“I don't—well, I don't know what to think, precisely. I've had a great deal of time to consider the matter and I suppose it comes down to—not so much what I believe as much as what I want to believe.”

“Then what do you want to believe?”

“You. Oh god, I want to believe you. I tell myself that I must, partly because—well, it it's the only thing that would explain…you.”

“And what's the other part?”

“Eliza, if I'm wrong and you're lying to me, then I don't want to live in that world. I'd rather live in this world, the one where you're telling the truth. The one where you care for me.”

“Oh, William,” she sighed into his mouth as she leaned in to deliver a delicious suckling kiss to his lower lip. His legs trembled and he wasn't sure if it was due to her succulent kisses or the terror he felt at being so utterly vulnerable to her. The courage required to face a boxer in the ring or battle with his uncle was nothing to it. He took a deep breath.

“I did not wish to presume, Eliza. I had intended to discuss the ball with you, however, I'd also hoped we could spend a little time together this evening. After my uncle's visit and the difficulties between us—I'd hoped that I could offer you a kind of diversion.”

“What?”

“Ah, well, I've prepared some things in my room which I thought you might find—ah, bollocks, Eliza.” He tugged on his hair. “I'm really just terrible with—I'm terribly inexperienced in matters such as this, you see and…”

She burst out in laughter, then quickly stifled herself so as not to wake his mother. Leaning up, she placed her lips next to his ear. Her warm breath breezed against his neck in a most pleasant manner. “If this is a date, I'm already sold. Lead the way.”

He knew he was blushing furiously, but it was too late to back out now. Clasping his hand in hers, he led the way to his bedchamber.

Stepping through the doorway, he surveyed his efforts, beginning to feel like a fool, worrying that he'd overdone it.

A blanket lay before the glowing fire in the hearth and upon it, he'd placed the makings of a kind of indoor picnic. There were plates with cheeses and breads, an open bottle of red wine and two jars of preserved fruit. He'd also set up a few books that they might consider reading, some playing cards and his favorite chess set.

She took a moment to look around the room and then beamed a smile at him. “Ooh! William! I'm impressed!”

“It's a bit much,” he mumbled.

“It's just right.” She squeezed his hand.