Truth about Mr. Darcy (34 page)

“Pray, Eliza, might I persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room? It is so refreshing after sitting for so long in one attitude.”

Her brow raised, Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, whose equal surprise at having heard words very nearly identical to those uttered by the same woman many months prior showed clearly upon his face. The entire room seemed to quiet, much as it had six months earlier, as all eyes became fixed upon the two ladies.

“Thank you, Miss Bingley, but I will decline. I am feeling a little tired, and if everyone will be so kind as to excuse me, I do believe I will retire.” Elizabeth knew precisely what her calculating hostess was about and smiled ruefully to herself. She would not fall victim to whatever scheme Miss Bingley had devised. She was not in the mood.

Elizabeth rose, and Darcy with her. “I shall join you, as well. I believe we have both had a long day.”

Miss Bingley made a slight sound of protest, but her brother’s amicable voice overpowered hers. He rose and said, “I am very sorry to be losing your company so soon this evening, but perhaps you will consent to a ride in the morning, Darcy? I am in desperate need of a good gallop—that is, if Elizabeth is feeling well enough to spare you. I cannot pretend to know anything of the particulars in these delicate matters, being a man and all, but…” His words died on his lips when he caught sight of the look of exasperation upon Darcy’s face. Striding toward them, his cheeks flaming, Bingley took both of Elizabeth’s hands in his and, under the pretense of giving her a brotherly peck on her cheek, whispered, “I certainly know how to put my foot in it, do I not, Lizzy? Please forgive my blunder. Darcy told me of your delightful news when you were last in Hertfordshire. I certainly did not mean to speak out of turn.”

Elizabeth had to laugh at his flustered demeanor and hastened to save him from further distress. “I beg you would think no more of it, Charles. My aunt and Jane know, in any case, as do Georgiana, Lydia, and several of Fitzwilliam’s discerning relations. I daresay the others appear to be none the wiser.” With a smile, Elizabeth inclined her head toward her parents and remaining sisters, all of whom were presently engaged in their own conversations and paying no mind to hers. “Tomorrow I will share our happy news with the rest of my family. There, that being said, you are now at liberty to be completely at ease.”

Elizabeth squeezed Bingley’s hands and bid the room, in general, a good night. She and Darcy then made their way to their rooms at a leisurely pace, their arms linked. “Though I can overlook Bingley’s misstep, I can hardly account for Miss Bingley. What on earth could she have been about, do you think?” Darcy asked dryly, repressing a teasing smile.

“I believe, my dear,” Elizabeth answered in a tone that was half amusement, half irritation, “you know very well what she was about. She saw only my increasing size and wished to draw attention to the distinct differences in our figures, much as she did when she attempted it the first time I was a guest here.”

Darcy laughed and pulled her into a close embrace. “Yes, and with much success, I might add, though none of it in her favor. In my eyes, your figure was by far superior to hers, and as for how I now feel, you are well aware I take nothing but the utmost pleasure in your increasing figure and the reason responsible for it.” He trailed one finger along her neckline with agonizing slowness. “Your breasts alone are inducement enough to lock you away and have my way with you,” he murmured. “You are stunning, even more so now that you shall be a mother. It is all I can do to remain in control around you, for your body seems to rob me of every gentlemanly instinct I possess.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed as Darcy’s hand slipped lower to caress her breast. He drew slow circles through the fabric of her gown with his palm, and she moaned softly. “Mmm…as wonderful as this feels, you know we cannot continue here. Someone may come upon us at any moment.”

“Indeed,” he whispered against her neck. “What say you to the library, then? Surely no one will come upon us there.”

“No one but my father,” she laughed. “Whatever is wrong with our own rooms, Fitzwilliam?”

Darcy sighed and embraced her as he rested his forehead against hers. Transferring his hands to her back, he admitted, “Nothing at all, but I have always had a certain fantasy, if you will, of seducing you in Bingley’s library. The delightful image of you in all your maidenly innocence, succumbing to my powers of persuasion, dominated my every waking moment while you were staying here nursing Jane shortly after I had first arrived in Hertfordshire.”

Elizabeth pulled back her head and looked into his eyes as a slow smile played upon her lips. “I had no idea. I thought only that you did not wish for me to intrude upon your privacy, which I confess to doing just to provoke your ire. After all, I believed you had done the same to me at the time.”

He stroked a stray curl from her cheek. “Hardly. Though I knew it to be wrong, not to mention dangerous, I confess to seeking you out whenever the opportunity arose. I could not seem to help myself. I was purposely throwing myself in your way—tempting fate, if you will—and wishing for I know not what to happen between us, but, at the very least, desperately hoping to spend some time in your company without anyone else to observe my open admiration. As you well know, it quickly turned into ardent love.” He sighed. “As you can see, Mrs. Darcy, very little has changed.”

“Oh, no. I would have to disagree with that, Mr. Darcy,” she said archly. “You see, I now have a much better understanding of your taciturn nature, and I have come to discover you are not the least bit proud or disagreeable. No, my dear husband, I now find your society to be infinitely satisfying. Never would I provoke your ire, sir, at least not for my own amusement. In fact,” she said, “where you are now concerned, I find my desires to be quite the opposite of what they once were.”

“How very fortunate, then, for me,” he murmured against her lips as his hands stroked her hips and the softness of her derrière. “Let us retire to our room before I take possession of you right here in the middle of Bingley’s hall.” They did retire and spent half the night in amorous occupation, completely oblivious that every word they had uttered had been overheard.

After Darcy and Elizabeth had quit the drawing room, Miss Bingley had passed several minutes in a fit of pique before she finally resolved to retire herself, certain that the following morning would provide another opportunity for her to expose Elizabeth to possible censure. As she made her way toward her apartment, she heard lowered voices. Realizing too late precisely who it was and what they were engaged in, Miss Bingley stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide as her mouth literally dropped open.

Her first impulse was to give them a severe scolding; her next, to run; but then, and quite against her will, she found herself studying them, listening to them. She knew she was infringing upon their privacy—nay, on their intimacy—but, try as she would, she could not seem to tear herself away from the picture they presented. It was at that moment Miss Bingley finally understood it was not some passing infatuation on his part that had forced Darcy to sacrifice himself and all his wealth and consequence to the woman in his arms. Darcy was truly in love with his wife, and even more astounding to Miss Bingley was the realization that Elizabeth returned his love.

As Miss Bingley made her way to her room, she thought back to the time when she had first made the acquaintance of Elizabeth Bennet. None of Netherfield Park’s inhabitants had thought her anything extraordinary, Darcy included, but Miss Bingley soon recalled that the master of Pemberley had not passed three evenings in her company before he had declared her eyes to be especially fine and her face rather beautiful. If Elizabeth had been aware of it, she had never given any indication of such knowledge. As a matter of fact, she had always acted as though Darcy was no different than her stodgy Uncle Phillips.

Contrary to Darcy’s position in society, his great estate, his exceptional looks, his fine clothes, and his wealth, Elizabeth had never treated him with any preference she did not extend to any other person of her acquaintance. If anything, she treated him with less. She had never fawned over him, deferred to him, or gone out of her way to please him, nor, Miss Bingley thought ruefully, did she have to. Elizabeth had succeeded in catching Darcy’s eye with no exertion on her part, but could it have been her open manner, her compassionate nature, and her witty intelligence that had captivated him? Miss Bingley was forced to concede that may have been the case.

She laughed scornfully over the unfairness of the situation. After all those years of trying to win Darcy with her flattery, elegant manners, and constant attention, Miss Bingley now thought it bitterly ironic that the master of Pemberley had never really wanted to be flattered and catered to, but, rather, treated as a simple man with simple tastes, and on equal terms with others. She could kick herself. So blinded was she by what Darcy had represented in terms of status and riches, it had never even occurred to her that he may have wanted to be appreciated and sought for who he was, not for what he had. She now saw with perfect clarity that Darcy had been drawn to Elizabeth in the first place because she had dared to treat him as no other woman ever had—or would, for that matter—and she had accomplished it all with great impertinence. In the end, Darcy had cared not and, in the meantime, had slowly grown to love her for it.

The final piece fell into place, and Miss Bingley knew the only thing left for her now was to come to terms with the fact that, no matter what she did—or would ever do—Darcy would never, ever choose her over Elizabeth. He loved Elizabeth, that much was now obvious, and Elizabeth returned his love, valued him, esteemed him. Miss Bingley had never been in love with Darcy. She had only been infatuated with what he could offer her as her husband—status, wealth, and the distinction of being mistress of a very great estate.

She breathed deeply and raised her hand to her now aching head. Darcy and Elizabeth would become her family in just two days’ time. Family or not, Miss Bingley knew if she could not conduct herself with civility when addressing Elizabeth, it would only be a matter of time before Darcy would no longer invite her to Pemberley or perhaps even refuse to acknowledge her. She knew it would be far worse than it had been that day in Bond Street, for if Darcy happened to snub her again, there would certainly be no healing such a breach. She would never be welcomed among those of his circle. She would never find herself a wealthy husband. She would never be able to show her face in society again.

Darcy kissed Elizabeth’s cheek, and her eyes fluttered open. “Your nose is cold!” she admonished with a laugh. “That was hardly a gentlemanly way to wake a lady.”

Darcy smirked and eased his fully dressed body onto her unclothed form as she lay beneath the warm counterpane. He buried his hands in her hair and his face in her neck, causing her to retreat farther under the covers with a small squeal. His guessed his cheeks must be cold as well.

Darcy grinned and murmured in her ear, “I cannot recall you behaving as a lady last night, nor any other night, now that I come to think of it, and I do believe I can also recall several afternoons quite recently where your comportment has been questionable.”

Elizabeth gasped in mock indignation. “Are you saying you disapprove of my behavior, sir? I assure you, I am
very
much a lady.”

“Disapprove?” he asked as he raised his head. “Certainly not. I have nothing but the utmost approval and respect for everything you do, my alluring wife. I will even go so far as to say it has been many months now I have considered you to be the most accomplished lady of my acquaintance, for a multitude of reasons that I shall be only too happy to enumerate for you.”

With a slow, languorous smile, Elizabeth slipped her arms around his neck and fingered his cravat. “Such flattering words, sir! But I am afraid I must confess to having a very attentive instructor. He has been most diligent, you see, in his duties to the constant improvement of my mind. However, it may be time for another, more thorough, lesson.” Then, quirking her brow, she inquired with an air of seduction, “Do you, Mr. Darcy, happen to know of anyone to whom I might turn for such attentive instruction?”

Darcy grinned as he ran one finger across her full lips. “I believe I happen to know of just such an instructor, and I daresay, madam, he is at your disposal.”

***

By the time they had bathed, dressed, and made their way downstairs for breakfast, it was quite late, and though Darcy had already been up for several hours—he had met Bingley quite early for a ride across the neighboring fields—Elizabeth could hardly contain her embarrassment at the lateness of the hour, especially when she saw that Georgiana, Miss Bingley, and Mrs. Hurst had already finished their morning meal. They were about to rise when Elizabeth and Darcy joined them at the table.

Everyone exchanged pleasantries, and then silence settled over the table as those who had not yet finished continued to eat. Miss Bingley chose to remain and, so, sat quietly clearing her throat and smoothing her gown. After much pause, she ventured to speak. “I trust you slept well, Mrs. Darcy, and are rested and refreshed after your journey yesterday?” Her addressing Elizabeth in such a civil manner caused the others at the table to turn their heads toward her. Her tone and her expression held no hint of the jealousy and contempt she was well known to harbor toward the mistress of Pemberley. It was remarkably out of character for her to address Elizabeth as anything other than Elizabeth, and it did not go unnoticed by those in attendance, either. Darcy’s eyes narrowed.

Elizabeth stared at Miss Bingley for several seconds before she managed to find her voice. “Yes, I thank you. I slept very well, indeed.”

Miss Bingley offered her a strained smile before she turned her attention to Darcy. “And you, sir? Did you sleep soundly, as well?”

“I did, thank you, Miss Bingley.”

“I am glad to hear it.” She offered Darcy a similar version of the same smile, though decidedly more sincere, before she astonished the group further by addressing Elizabeth once more. “I know there is nothing quite like being in one’s own home, but I do hope you are both comfortable here at Netherfield. I shall trust you to notify me of anything particular you may require, Mrs. Darcy. We have an excellent staff here. You may rest assured they would be more than happy to see to your every need.”

Throughout the entire exchange between Miss Bingley and Elizabeth, Georgiana, Bingley, Darcy, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst could do nothing but stare in wide-eyed astonishment.

“Thank you again, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said in what she sincerely hoped was a calm, pleasant voice. “I am well acquainted with the efficiency of your excellent staff. I am certain, however, such attention on your part is hardly necessary. I would not wish to put you to any trouble.”

Miss Bingley straightened her shoulders and sniffed. “Nonsense,” she said dryly but with civility. “We are to be family, Mrs. Darcy. I assure you, it will be no trouble at all. It would be my pleasure.” She cleared her throat once more and rose from her seat. “If you will excuse me, I must see to several last-minute preparations for tonight’s ball. I would like everything to be perfect for Jane and Charles.”

Mrs. Hurst also rose and followed her sister, leaving behind a table full of incredulous people. It was Mr. Hurst, however, who finally broke the silence. “Who was that woman, and what the deuce did she do with our Caroline?”

Georgiana choked on her tea while Bingley merely shook his head and stammered, “I hardly know.”

***

Elizabeth and Georgiana ventured to Longbourn after breakfast, leaving the gentlemen to themselves for several hours. Though Elizabeth was excited about the prospect of becoming a mother, she dreaded her own mother’s reaction to her news. She had tried, in vain, to persuade Georgiana to remain at Netherfield, but her sister-in-law would not hear of it. Unfortunately, Mrs. Bennet’s joy, as well as her advice on such an occasion, was not to be underestimated.

“Oh! I knew how it would be!” she cried. “You must take after me, Lizzy, for I was with child in no time at all after my marriage to your father. You have done your duty to your husband very well, indeed. Now, if you can just give him a son, then I am sure Mr. Darcy would not mind in the least if you were to tell him you do not wish to do it again.”

Elizabeth was grateful Georgiana was, at that precise moment, engaged in earnest conversation with Lydia and Mary on the other side of the room, especially after she heard her father add dryly, “I would certainly not count on
that
, my dear, if I were you.” He then retreated behind his paper with a throat-clearing and did not emerge until the end of the visit. Elizabeth blushed.

Upon their return to Netherfield, Elizabeth and Georgiana were astounded to see Miss Bingley’s earlier civility—though whether forced or sincere, they had yet to determine—had survived the course of several hours. Their hostess made a concerted effort at small talk without insulting or disparaging Elizabeth even once, showing the mistress of Pemberley every courtesy in her power. Georgiana made a point of observing Miss Bingley carefully, and upon noticing her staring at Darcy and Elizabeth with what could only be described as an unfathomable expression upon her face, she became even more bewildered by her behavior. Georgiana could detect nothing malicious or calculating in Miss Bingley’s manner, however, so only exchanged a confused look with her brother.

Even Darcy could not find fault with Miss Bingley’s conduct, though it did continue to baffle him, as well. He could hardly credit this sudden change in his friend’s sister, but it did not necessarily follow that he did not appreciate the effort it certainly must have cost her.

***

By the time the hour of the ball arrived, the house had become flooded with guests, all of whom were eager to enjoy what promised to be a delightful evening. To the four-and-twenty families who resided in the neighborhood were added the many friends and family members who had come from various distances to attend the wedding. Among them was a Mr. Brewster, a young man of three-and-twenty who was to perform the office of standing up with Bingley. He was quiet and seemed somewhat reserved, but very agreeable all the same. His handsome looks and reported income of three thousand a year immediately captured the interest of all the young ladies in attendance, but very much like another taciturn gentleman before him, he had very soon settled his eyes on only one.

“Miss Lydia,” said Bingley, “allow me to present my very good friend, Mr. John Brewster of Scarborough. Brewster, this is Miss Lydia Bennet, my dear Jane’s youngest sister.”

Mr. Brewster bowed to her. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Lydia, and if you are not otherwise engaged, might I request the honor of dancing the next with you?”

Lydia smiled and inclined her head. “Thank you, sir. I am not engaged.”

He offered her his arm, and they made their way to the center of the room. “You reside in Scarborough, then, Mr. Brewster?” she asked.

“Yes, but my family is originally from Brighton. It is where I passed most of my youth.”

“Brighton, you say? How wonderful! You must tell me all about it, sir, for I have always longed to go to Brighton.”

Mr. Brewster could not help but smile at her enthusiasm. The music began, and they proceeded down the dance in happy conversation.

***

Later that night, Darcy paced the length of Bingley’s study. “All I am saying, Bingley, is you should have consulted with either Mr. Bennet or myself before you took it upon yourself to make the introduction. Lydia is still recovering from what can only be described as a nightmare. She has told me she is reluctant to remain here with her own family because she fears society’s censure, although, I confess, I am somewhat relieved to hear it. She has changed in the last two months, much for the better. She is no longer thoughtless and wild, thank God. Elizabeth and Georgiana have been an excellent influence on her, quite the opposite of her own mother, I must say.”

Bingley took a long sip of port and sighed. “I cannot disagree with you, Darcy, and perhaps I should have first approached her father—especially considering the circumstances of late—but John Brewster is a very great friend. I have known him nearly half my life, and I can say with all honesty he is one of the most respectable gentlemen of my acquaintance. His intentions are honorable. He certainly will not take advantage of Miss Lydia.”

“No. Perhaps not, but what if they form an attachment? What if Lydia one day feels compelled to confide in him her ordeal with Wickham? Is he the type of man who might abandon her and destroy all her hopes after his honor has become engaged? I hate to admit it, but even the most honorable man would be a fool not to think twice before offering for her after hearing such a confession.”

Bingley stared at him. “You are behaving much like a mother hen trying to protect her chick, Darcy. They have danced only two dances together. I hardly think that constitutes an offer of marriage.”

“Yes, they danced two dances but spent the remainder of the night in conversation. Other than you, Mr. Bennet, Mr. Gardiner, and myself, Lydia danced not one single dance with any other gentleman—not that it would have been prudent, in any case, but you must remember how fond she is of dancing.” With a loud exhalation, he raked his hands through his hair and muttered, “Forgive me, Bingley, but I cannot like it. It makes me uneasy.”

Bingley chuckled. “I truly feel for you, my friend. You now find yourself in the unsavory position of caring for two very young, very impressionable, and very pretty ladies who, for all intents and purposes, are not yet out, and you are feeling the full weight of it.” With a grin, he raised his glass. “For the sake of your sanity, Darcy, I do sincerely hope Elizabeth will give you a son.”

Darcy closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he muttered, “Yes. I cannot but agree.”

***

The wedding the following day was all that was elegant and delightful. It came as no surprise that Jane, a very beautiful woman, made an equally beautiful bride. While Elizabeth’s wedding gown had been declared exquisite by all who had attended her wedding to Darcy, it was almost deceptively simple in comparison to Jane’s, which was much closer to what society had come to anticipate from the blushing bride of a gentleman of no insignificant means. Nearly every inch of Jane’s glorious silk gown was covered in imported Belgian lace, and though not quite to Elizabeth’s personal taste, the gown her dearest Jane had chosen—or, more appropriately, her mother—certainly succeeded in flattering the new Mrs. Bingley’s elegant figure, to which Mr. Bingley’s steadfast gazes and dreamy expressions were a constant testament.

The wedding breakfast was held at Netherfield, where the bride and groom were to spend their wedding night before leaving to tour some of England’s southern regions. Out of respect for the newly married couple, the many guests and relations who had arrived the day before and had spent the night—the Darcys included—soon made their farewells to the newlyweds and departed.

Mrs. Bennet was quite put out that Darcy would not consent to stay for a fortnight or two at Longbourn. She had been informed by her husband just that morning that Lydia was to travel to London with the Darcys and then on to Derbyshire, where she would remain for the next two months at least. Mrs. Bennet attempted to persuade her second-eldest daughter to use her influence with her husband, but to no avail. In fact, Elizabeth took great pleasure informing her mother that, in this particular instance, Darcy would not be swayed. He was anxious to return to his beloved Pemberley, where he had not set foot for the better part of a year. He was also looking forward to introducing Elizabeth to what was now her home, and extremely desirous of doing it before she could no longer be expected to make such an arduous trip. Assuming the weather was fit for travel, it would likely take them two or three days to reach Derbyshire, even from London. Darcy and Georgiana could barely contain their enthusiasm.

The Darcys and Lydia spent the following week in Town, taking their leave of the Gardiners, the Fitzwilliams, and certain close acquaintances, packing their trunks, and closing up Darcy House before finally departing for Derbyshire. The journey was long, tedious, and exhausting. Once again, Darcy found himself sitting opposite Elizabeth, but managed to force himself to pass the time more constructively by reading, which he did with only an occasional glance of longing directed toward his wife. Elizabeth chatted with her sisters while she attempted to work on some embroidery, which proved rather challenging while she sat in a constantly rocking carriage. She gave it up after their first day on the road in favor of a new book of sonnets Darcy had procured for her while in London. Georgiana was ill once, but not seriously so, forcing the party to stop earlier than expected for the day. By that time, Darcy had been more than ready to alight from the confines of the carriage and whisk his enticing wife away to the privacy of their adjoining rooms.