The Darcys of Pemberley (29 page)

She got to her feet as rapidly as her awkward
figure allowed, and started for home at a hurried pace. The faster
Elizabeth walked, the more the fear rose up in her throat, urging
her on until she was nearly at a run. All the while, she struggled
to master her unruly emotions, to push the panic down.

When she was still quite a way from the
house, Elizabeth rounded a bend in the path and found herself
confronted by a tall man silhouetted against the bright sky. A
feeble scream escaped her lips. Nearly in that same moment, she
recognized him. “Mr. Adams!” she cried, indescribable relief
flooding through her.

“Why, Mrs. Darcy, what is the matter? Are you
ill?” he inquired. “Here, take my arm. You’re trembling like a
leaf.”

Elizabeth obeyed, gratefully. “Thank you, Mr.
Adams,” she gasped out. “I am so glad to see you … I am not ill,
only frightened. I cannot be sure but … I believe there was someone
following me.”

“An intruder? Did you see who it was?”

“No, no. I can tell you nothing at all
useful. I did not see, but rather sensed, that someone was there.
Then I heard movement in the brush and I came away as fast as I
could.”

“Where did this happen, Mrs. Darcy?”

“Down at the little clearing by the
waterfall.”

“I had better have a look then… but I can’t
leave you like this. Let me see you back to the house first,” he
proposed.

Elizabeth agreed, and they continued on at a
less frantic pace. The riding party was just returning as they
approached the stables. At the sight of his wife, disheveled and
needing assistance, Mr. Darcy dismounted and ran to her.

“Good God! What has happened? Are you ill,
Elizabeth?” he asked, taking her other arm at once.

She offered him a weak smile. “No, do not be
alarmed. I am well. I am well.”

“Madam believes she was followed on the path,
near the waterfall,” Mr. Adams volunteered.

Darcy took command of the situation. “I will
investigate this myself, Mr. Adams. Be good enough to escort the
ladies to the house, and then join me. Elizabeth, you are quite
certain that you are unharmed?” She nodded. “Very well then. I
shall be off at once,” he said returning to the saddle. After one
more glance back at his wife, Darcy urged his mount down the path
from which she had just fled.

~*~

Upon regaining the house, Elizabeth went
directly to her bedchamber to recover from her fright and await
Darcy’s return. The longer he stayed away, however, the more
foolish she felt over the stir she had created. The efforts of Mr.
Adams and her husband could very well be for naught. After all, it
was at least possible the whole episode had been a product of her
imagination, the result of straying into that strange twilight
between consciousness and sleep.

When Darcy did return over an hour later,
having found no one and nothing out of order, a chagrined Elizabeth
confessed. “At the time, I was absolutely convinced someone was
there, but now … now I am not at all certain. In fact, I am
persuaded that the mischief could just as easily be the work of my
own mind playing tricks on me. I am sorry to have put you to all
this trouble over nothing.”

“You need not apologize, Elizabeth. You may
doubt your instincts, but I take them quite seriously, I assure
you. The fact that I found no evidence of an intruder proves
nothing. In any case, you are not to leave this house alone again.
If there was someone lurking in the woods, he may still be
nearby.”

“Of course, if you really think such
precautions necessary.”

“I do,” he said gravely.

“Is there something you are not telling me,
Darcy? Do you have suspicions about what … or who may be at work in
this matter?”

After some hesitation, he admitted, “I cannot
help wondering if it might be more than a coincidence that this
menace has come so soon after
Wickham
arrived in the
neighborhood. Perhaps I was wrong to suppose he could be safely
managed here at Pemberley.”

“Wickham? Surely not. What interest could he
have in frightening me? We have had our differences, yet I cannot
believe he harbors any serious ill-will against me.”

“He may hold no animosity toward you
personally, but he has
always
resented me. It may be that he
plans to use a threat against my family to torment and manipulate
me to his own ends, for profit or just for spite. It would not be
the first time he has done such a thing.”

Astounded by her husband’s last comment,
Elizabeth considered her response carefully. It seemed that the
moment was at hand for exploring the topic raised by Wickham’s
cryptic remarks. Darcy had given her a perfect opening … if she
wished to take it. She wavered, Wickham’s warning still fresh in
her mind. It was not in her nature, however, to prefer a placid
ignorance over truth, even at some peril.

“What do you mean?” she ventured cautiously.
“I know the history between the two of you, of course, but have you
undertaken any more recent dealings with Wickham?”

Darcy answered with equal circumspection.
“Unfortunately, it has been necessary for me to see him from time
to time, to clear up some problem or respond to one of his demands.
But, it is nothing that need concern you, Elizabeth.”

“Of course it concerns me!” Elizabeth
rejoined, her caution instantly supplanted by irritation. “He is my
brother-in-law as well. How could you keep me in the dark about
something like this? Do I not have the right to know what goes on
in my own family?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth,
Elizabeth recognized the hypocrisy embodied in them. She blushed
with the consciousness that the very thing of which she accused
him, she herself had been guilty of doing these many months.

“This reproach from
you
, Elizabeth?”
Darcy demanded in pained indignation. “Do you really think you have
earned the right to claim the moral high ground on the subject of
honesty?”

Elizabeth dropped her face into her hands.
She could not defend herself; she could not even look at him. An
awful silence hung in the air, thick as London fog, against which
the sound of his seething breath and her own pounding heart stood
out in sharp relief.

“Well?” Darcy prompted at last. “Do you have
anything to say to me?”

“Only that I am … most extremely sorry,”
Elizabeth choked out, her eyes still downcast and stinging with
tears.

He instantly softened. “Look here, Lizzy,” he
said, gently lifting her chin until she was forced to meet his
gaze. “You know that I love you – nothing can change that – but you
must be honest with me. Please, let us get this whole business out
in the open and have no more secrets between us.”

“Oh, you do not know how desperately I long
to do exactly that,” Elizabeth groaned, “yet it is not in my
power.”

“Why ever not?”

“All I can say is that any secrets I keep are
not my own, or for my own benefit, but rather to protect another
and a confidence placed in me. I am bound by a promise, Darcy. For
the sake of honor, there are certain things that I may not tell
you, much as I would wish to. Surely you can understand that.”

Darcy’s mouth hardened. He strode across the
room and back again before answering with intense restraint. “I am
sorry, Elizabeth, but it just will not do. Your explanation, though
plausible, seems a very convenient way to avoid owning the truth. I
beg you would reconsider your stand. Have you taken into account
what it is you are risking? The stakes are high, and I submit that
the person you protect is not worthy of such loyalty and
sacrifice!” Darcy turned on his heel, and abruptly quit the
room.

Elizabeth groped for a chair as the floor
threatened to slip from beneath her feet. Her mind reeling as well,
she grasped after some shred of elucidation to make sense of what
had passed. While she conceded that Darcy had every right to be
hurt, even angry, that she had kept things from him, she did not
understand his vehemence or why he refused to listen to her
explanation. All she knew for certain was that she had deeply
offended him … and she had no clue how to undo the damage.

It was just as Wickham said; her interference
led to disaster. “Oh, why could I not have left well-enough alone?”
No, regrets were pointless. They could not turn back the clock.
They could not untangle this muddle and bring back harmony. So
Elizabeth cast about for some constructive course of action.

More urgently than ever, she longed to be
released from her vow to Georgiana. Perhaps if she could tell her
husband all, he would understand and forgive. To that end, she took
up her pen and wrote, begging Georgiana’s leave to tell Darcy the
truth at long last. Although her intention was to explain the
gravity of the situation without causing her sister-in-law undue
alarm, Elizabeth could not be sure she had succeeded. She only knew
that, with her letter written, she felt the slight solace of having
taken one small step toward restoring the peace.

Yet it would be days before she could
possibly hear back from Georgiana. What was she to do in the
meantime? Elizabeth hardly knew how to behave under these untried
conditions.

Absent any more material relief, seclusion
seemed her best consolation. Elizabeth contemplated sending word
downstairs that she was unwell. Considering the fright she had so
recently received, that explanation would have been accepted
without question. Yet it seemed a cowardly thing to do. Ultimately,
she determined to take up her courage and face the others. She
would conduct herself as if nothing were wrong, at least until
their guests were gone. When she had steeled herself for the
challenge, she threw back her shoulders, raised her chin, and came
downstairs.

Mrs. Darcy favored her guests with more
graciousness and cheer than she had thought possible under the
circumstances. Her husband was less successful in affecting an air
of good humor, but, since it was not uncommon for him to appear
somewhat grim and taciturn, no one else seemed to notice anything
amiss.

While their guests received every possible
attention, Darcy and Elizabeth scrupulously avoided any direct
contact with each other throughout the evening. The pain of
separation cut deeply on both sides. Although neither betrayed any
outward symptom of it, husband and wife each longed for a way to
bridge the unfamiliar gulf between them. Darcy surreptitiously
watched his wife for a sign that she might be willing to comply
with his request, but she would not meet his gaze. Elizabeth
likewise hoped Darcy would somehow show by word or gesture that his
displeasure with her had subsided, or that he was sorry for it. She
received no such encouragement.

When the ladies preceded the gentlemen
upstairs that night, Elizabeth wasted no time preparing for bed.
She was exhausted and not inclined to wait up for her husband.
After such a trying day, she felt totally unequal to the strain of
another confrontation with him. So, by the time Darcy came in,
Elizabeth was safely tucked in bed, giving every appearance that
she was already fast asleep.

Darcy stood watching her for several minutes,
debating what to do. He despaired at the thought of retiring with
their disagreement still unresolved. And he could not help
wondering if Elizabeth really slept or merely wished to avoid
speaking to him. Either way, he decided, it would be pointless to
disturb her. Yet his conscience would not allow him to rest without
giving his wife some token of his steadfast affection. Before
extinguishing the candle, he turned to her and softly kissed the
back of her head, lingering long enough to take in the sweet scent
of her hair and whisper the words “I love you” as a blessing over
her.

A tear ran down Elizabeth’s cheek and soaked
into her pillow.

Elucidation

Elizabeth passed a restless night. Only brief
intervals of fitful sleep broke the long stretches of wakefulness,
during which the events of the preceding day tortured her without
mercy. Employing the dark hours as profitably as possible, she
carefully reviewed her conversation with her husband, word by word,
struggling to decipher its deeper meaning. The key had to be there
somewhere, and she was intent on finding it. If her body could not
enjoy the benefit of rest, she hoped at least her mind might attain
some measure of peace before the night slipped away.

After much consideration, Elizabeth came to
certain inescapable conclusions. First, Darcy had indeed carried on
business dealings of an unknown nature with Wickham. He admitted as
much before their discussion took the turn toward disaster.
Secondly, he knew (or at least thought he knew) of some unnamed
dishonesty or concealment on her part. Finally, he refused to
accept her explanation as to why she kept her secrets.

“What was it he said about that?” she
silently questioned. “He charged me with being evasive … and
he
impugned the character of the person I claim to protect
. But
that makes no sense!” Then, as Elizabeth lay there in the dark,
thinking, the first shaft of light broke through. When Darcy had
accused her of secretiveness, she had naturally presumed he
referred to the confidences she kept for Georgiana. Yet that could
not be the case, for he would never describe his beloved sister as
someone unworthy of loyalty. There had to be an error; one or both
of them must be operating under some sort of misapprehension.

Elizabeth’s spirits revived. Should it be all
a misunderstanding, perhaps the muddle could be cleared up sooner
than she had expected, possibly without even involving Georgiana.
She instantly resolved to speak to Darcy in the morning, as soon as
their guests were gone, being unwilling to endure the coldness
between them a moment longer than absolutely necessary. With this
hope in view, Elizabeth attacked the problem with renewed energy,
attempting to unravel the mystery further, and planning how to
broach the subject with her husband. She found the challenge oddly
exhilarating. Fully awake now, she would have paced the room had
she been able to do so without disturbing him. “Oh, I will never
sleep tonight!” she thought.