Unforgiving Temper (36 page)

Oh, he still wanted to punish Darcy, there
was no question of that. He intended to make Darcy suffer as he had
when Darcy destroyed his hopes with Catherine. What he had not
intended was to actually want Elizabeth Bennet for himself; not
just to use her and cast her aside, but to possess her, body and
soul.

He had not thought he would ever feel
anything for another woman after Catherine, but Elizabeth, with her
pert opinions, captivating eyes, and naturally engaging ways had
managed to reach through the stony walls surrounding his heart and
touch him. It was time to let go of the past and make a new future
for himself.

Lifting the lid, he examined the contents one
last time, touching each item lightly. His hand lingered only
slightly on the lock of silky, golden hair before he closed the lid
with a flick of his wrist and turned the silver key in its
lock.

He did not linger on the monumental decision
he had just made. He would not go back now. He took out a sheet of
pressed paper and bent to his task with the energy of a man
awakened from a very long sleep.

It did not take long to pen his demands to
George Wickham. He knew enough of the man to make the first move
and take control of the situation before the scoundrel could use
the now changed circumstances to his advantage. Grissholm had seen
first hand with Fitzwilliam Darcy what the man was capable of, and
he would not fall victim to the same fate.

Sealing the letter, he penned another short
note before summoning Newcomb. The butler entered the room almost
instantly, ready for instructions.

“Send these letters express, right away,”
Grissholm ordered tersely. “And have this box put with my personal
effects in the attic. I will not be needing it again.”

“Very good, m'lord.” Newcomb quickly
retrieved the letters and the box, balancing them in one hand as he
reached for the door.

“Oh, and Newcomb,” Grissholm stopped him in
the threshold, “Please inform Miss Bennet I would like to see
her.”

* * * *

“Please, sir! You cannot ask that of me,”
Elizabeth whispered, gripping the soft leather at the edge of her
chair.

“It will not be long,” Grissholm assured her
quietly. “A few short weeks at most.”

“A few weeks?! Who is to say how long my
father has been ill? A few weeks – a few days even – and it may be
too late!” she cried. She could feel a crippling panic rising in
her chest and pushed it down, her courage rising in its place. “You
made me a promise, sir. Do you intend to keep it? I only need
enough for the post.”

“Miss Bennet, be reasonable. I am only
asking you to stay long enough for me to make some arrangements. It
is a foolish plan for you to go running off, all alone, on a
moment's notice. Think about it.”

“I have thought about nothing else since I
received the letter! My family needs me and I cannot delay!”

“Your family needs you to be prudent. What
good will you be to them if you bring shame and ruination with you?
From the sounds of it, Wickham would not hesitate to destroy your
family if you thwart his plans and return to Hertfordshire without
his consent.” He paused as Elizabeth's eyes closed in sheer
frustration. “I understand your impatience, but it really will be
better for everyone if you allow me the time to clear up this
business with the letters before you make the journey.”

“My lord, time is a luxury I do not have at
the moment. I could not live with myself if my father…if something
happened to my father before I could see him again.”

“I have already dispatched a letter
instructing my doctor in London to attend your father. He is one of
the best physicians in the country and will do everything possible
for him. If the doctor finds the situation is critical, I shall
personally take you there without delay.”

“Your doctor?” Elizabeth blinked. “My family
could never afford – ”

“Neither your family nor you need be
concerned with the expense. I am happy to do it. It is a small
price to pay if it can ease your anxiety in any way.” He leaned
toward her with a crooked smile. “Besides, all this distressing
business has had a rather disturbing effect upon your charming
countenance, and we cannot have that, can we?”

“Oh,” was all she could say. She felt the
color flooding her cheeks and looked away, carefully avoiding his
gaze. “I thank you once again for your generosity; but I can only
accept your help with the understanding that any money spent on my
behalf will be repaid as soon as I am able.”

“Very well, I shall consider you in my debt,”
his smile deepened. “And I shall be pleased to have you so.”

Elizabeth stared at him in amazement, trying
to determine what response she could give to such a provocative
statement. Propriety required that she object to his words, and
avoid any suggestion of owing him a personal debt; and yet, to deny
that he was doing her a tremendous service, at great trouble and
expense to himself, would be impossibly rude. Why, or why, had he
placed her in the position of having to acknowledge the great debt
she owed him for his aid?

Propriety allowed her to neither object nor
acquiesce; and so Elizabeth changed the subject. “What will you do
to retrieve the letters, sir?”

“I have already sent a message, and as soon
as it can be arranged, I shall meet with Wickham.”

“He will not give them up easily,” Elizabeth
murmured. “They keep me at Everton and my position here seems to be
vital to his scheme.”

“I have no doubt of my success,
Miss Bennet. I can be very persuasive.”

“Can he be spared from the militia long
enough to make the journey? If they are still at Brighton, it would
take four days to reach Everton.”

“He is not coming to Everton. London will be
the most logical location for negotiations and I am keeping you as
far away from him as I can. You will stay here with Rebecca.”

“London!” Elizabeth exploded. “You must take
me with you.”

“Absolutely not! Did you not hear what I just
said? I am keeping you out of his reach.”

“You may want to, but I refuse to sit idle,
hundreds of miles away when my family's very existence is in
peril.”

“You will do exactly that!”

“No, I will not! We both know
Mr. Wickham cannot be trusted, and I am the only one that can
verify the authenticity of my sister's letters. You must take me
with you.”

Infuriated once again at her obstinacy,
Grissholm rose from his chair, glaring at her across the desk. “For
once, would you just do as I say without debating the issue?” The
stubborn set of her mouth gave him his answer. The woman was
unbearably vexing at times – but deliciously alluring at the same
time. He was certain a lifetime with her would never be dull.

Elizabeth glared back at him, refusing to be
intimidated. “You are undertaking a great deal of trouble and
expense to save my foolish sister, my father, and indeed my entire
family. It is only right that I should accompany you and offer
whatever help I can.”

They remained locked in yet another battle of
wills as Grissholm silently studied her earnest expression. Her
brows arched defiantly above deeply passionate brown eyes and the
soft curve of her lips spread into a tight smile, causing his heart
to beat hard against his chest. Even in the heat of battle, she was
lovely – and she wanted to be by his side. How could he refuse
that? He could not.

Releasing a small sigh of surrender, he broke
the impasse.

“Very well, you shall go. It will take a
little longer to make the necessary arrangements, but unless we
receive news that would take us to Hertfordshire, we shall all go
to London, even Rebecca.”

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile that
nearly felled him and he exerted great effort to bring his mind
back to the matter at hand.

“But I will have your word that you shall not
attempt to see Wickham or speak one word to him. It is too
dangerous. I will not give way on that point. You are to verify the
letters once I have them in my possession – and that is all!”

Elizabeth was only too happy to agree. She
was going to London! Not only would she be out from under Wickham's
power, but she would be close enough to reach Longbourn and her
father in a matter of hours instead of days.

“My lord, you may rest easy on that point;
and I think I may safely promise never to speak to Mr. Wickham
again!”

* * * *

The afternoon sun seeped through the windows,
casting broad shafts of light across the shadowy interior of the
room as Elizabeth sat staring at her reflection in the dressing
table mirror. Her maid silently entered the room, bringing a
current of air that stirred the skirt of the beautiful dress
hanging on the closet door and Elizabeth's eyes were drawn to it.
The pale blue gossamer satin gown, its edges richly ornamented with
tiny silver designs, glittered enticingly in the sunlight and
Elizabeth frowned.

It was a beautiful dress, but it had been
made to satisfy the viscount's expectations more than her own. She
had not wanted it. Her cream sarsnet gown would have served just as
well.

Elizabeth drew a long sigh and turned away
from the dress, looking instead to another recent addition, the
girl who had become her personal maid. As she watched Molly busily
preparing a bath, she tried to determine when it was that his
lordship had come to be so attentive. The condition had come about
so gradually that she really could not determine an exact time. All
she knew was that it had gone on far too long, and now she did not
know how to stop it – or even if she wanted to.

Lord Grissholm's disagreeably cold and
indifferent manners she had encountered when first coming to
Everton were now charming and engaging, especially when he cared to
apply himself – which he did quite often. It was a pleasant
transformation for the most part, but there were times his interest
extended beyond what she would have liked.

That thought brought another sigh and she
looked back to the dress she would wear to Sir Henry
Gerring-Smythe's private ball. 'The affair will be nothing grand, I
assure you,' Lord Grissholm had said. 'Just a few families
from the neighborhood. An opportunity for Rebecca to see what is
expected of her. She will not dance, of course, but it will help
accustom her to the society of her peers.' In spite of the
viscount's reassuring words, Elizabeth could not help feeling there
was more to tonight's foray into Cumberland society than just
Rebecca.

Within two hours, Elizabeth was nearly ready
to join the others below in the drawing room. She watched her
reflection in the mirror as Molly gathered the last of her chestnut
curls, deftly weaving the silky ribbon in and out before pinning
the locks tightly to the back of her head. Finishing her work by
adorning Elizabeth's ears with a dainty pair of exquisite sapphire
earrings, Molly stepped back admiringly.

“You look wonderful, Miss Bennet. The
master was right to insist on the blue. It's the perfect color for
you!” she beamed.

“Thank you, Molly,” Elizabeth answered, still
looking at herself with a critical eye, “but I am sure the cream
would have done just as well; particularly since it would have left
a little more to the imagination!”

Not only had Elizabeth objected to the idea
of a new dress, but the much lower neckline and the emphasis to her
figure was a little too French for her taste, even if it was the
latest fashion.

“I'm sorry about that, Miss, I really am; but
I couldn't disobey the master. I just couldn't!”

“I know, and you were quite right not to
listen to me. I just feel a little overdone, that is all. At least
you have kept my hair to my liking. As for the rest, I shall just
have to make the best of it.” Elizabeth gave the maid a reassuring
smile and then walked out of her room. Perhaps if she didn't look
in another mirror for the rest of the evening, she would forget her
appearance.

She could not have been more wrong.

Entering the drawing room, Elizabeth stopped
short as Lord Grissholm's appreciative gaze swept over her.
His eyes were more revealing than any mirror, and his approving
look brought a heightened glow to her now flushed cheeks. She could
not decide if the accelerated beating of her heart was a welcome
response or not.

Fortunately, Rebecca appeared just then, her
own youthful beauty enhanced by an elegant gown of fine white India
muslin. The viscount complemented her as well in an uncommon show
of attention, making the girl fidget nervously under his brief
inspection.

Much to both ladies' relief, Newcomb stepped
into the room, announcing the arrival of the carriage, and
Grissholm quickly ushered the two women toward the front door.

Rebecca linked arms with Elizabeth and leaned
close as they walked. “You are beautiful, Elizabeth!” she whispered
softly.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth mouthed back, giving
the girl a smile of gratitude as his Lordship hastened them into
the carriage.

It was not a long ride to Hartley Park, the
ancestral home of their host, Sir Henry. Within half an hour
Lord Grissholm was handing them out of the warm carriage and
into the cool night air.

Offering his assistance as the ladies
ascended the steps to the second floor, Elizabeth's hand
unconsciously tightened on Grissholm's arm. As much as she loved to
dance, the stares she attracted before they even reached the
ballroom made her feel distressingly conspicuous.

When they reached their destination,
Elizabeth took in the large number of people that filled the
dazzling ballroom to capacity. She had not danced since
Mr. Bingley's ball, which was nearly…had it really been almost
a year now? This room was grander in size and furnishings; but
memories of that night at Netherfield flooded her mind all the
same, furrowing her brow with the mortifying recollection of her
appalling behavior toward Mr. Darcy.