A Pemberley Medley (A Pride & Prejudice Variation) (13 page)

Elizabeth was feeling such relief that she found it difficult to focus on the question of Lydia; all she wanted was to return to Darcy's arms and stay there forever. That could not be, though. She knew Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had no intention of leaving Darcy alone with her in her bedchamber for even a minute. “I will join you shortly,” she said.

Darcy, who was not at all ready to let her out of his sight, looked at her with concern. She smiled wanly at him, and said reassuringly, “I require a moment to make myself presentable, sir; that is all.”

His countenance cleared somewhat. “I will expect you in five minutes, no more,” he said, his tone clearly communicating to her his need to have her by his side.

Mrs. Gardiner shooed her husband along with Darcy. “I will stay with Lizzy; you go ahead and talk about whatever it is that men talk about.”

Once they had left, she turned to Elizabeth. “Lizzy, my dear, that looked quite worrisome. You look very ill.”

Elizabeth poured water from the ewer into a basin and began to rinse her eyes. “I am well enough, aunt. I am afraid that when Mr. Darcy and I disagree, we tend to do so with a certain ferocity that cannot be pleasant to observe, and both of us have been known to say some quite hurtful things in the heat of the moment. Fortunately, we are also both quite forgiving of the other.”

“I do not understand. I take it that you told him that you wanted to end the engagement - that suggests more than a mere disagreement, Lizzy, and he was very angry,” Mrs. Gardiner said gently.

Elizabeth sighed. “It was because of Lydia; I did not want to taint him with the disgrace we face.”

“Oh, Lizzy. And he is so attached to you - I cannot say that I think that was wisely done, my dear.”

“I do not want his reputation to suffer because of me!”

“And you do not trust him sufficiently to speak to him about your fears.”

Her aunt's insightful comment cut closer than Elizabeth cared to consider at the moment. She dried her face. “I did promise to be down in five minutes, and I suspect that I had best be prompt. Shall we join the gentlemen, then?”

“If you are ready, we certainly may,” answered Mrs. Gardiner. She had noted her niece's discomfort, and hoped that she would think further on what she had said.

Darcy and Mr. Gardiner were already ensconced in the study when the ladies arrived. Darcy opened the discussion by detailing his connection with Wickham, including the events of Ramsgate. Although Elizabeth had already given them to understand that Wickham was not to be trusted, the extent of his dissipation came as a surprise to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.

“I have some connections still which may assist me in locating Wickham,” Darcy said. “Once I reach London, I will begin to explore the possibilities. Obviously, I will need to consult with Mr. Bennet. Where would I be most likely to find him?”

“I do not doubt that he is staying at our house on Gracechurch Street,” said Mr. Gardiner, “and I am inclined to think that I should accompany you, as I am familiar with London in a way that Mr. Bennet is not, and possibly more able to negotiate with Mr. Wickham.”

Darcy shook his head decisively. “I shall handle the dealings with Wickham. Your assistance, however, in working with Mr. Bennet might be very helpful; he has felt little reason to trust me in the past, and I doubt these events will have improved the situation.”

“Would it be possible, then, for Mrs. Gardiner and me to proceed directly to Longbourn? Jane, I believe, must be in need of our support with my mother,” said Elizabeth.

Darcy turned an enigmatic gaze on her. “I would prefer to have you in London, Elizabeth.”

“In London? I cannot see what that would accomplish.”

“I may need your assistance in handling Lydia. I doubt that she would be inclined to listen to me,” he said. “And I would appreciate your presence. Jane is not without resources; Bingley is there with her.”

Elizabeth's concern about Jane did not abate, but as she opened her mouth to object once more, she saw the beseeching look in Darcy's eyes. Thinking of her aunt's earlier words about trusting him, she agreed to the plan with uncharacteristic meekness.

Plans were soon set; Darcy offered to send servants with Mrs. Gardiner to Longbourn, while Mr. Gardiner and Elizabeth would travel to London in Darcy's carriage.

As the conversation drew to a close, Darcy felt himself becoming unaccountably nervous, not so much regarding the trip to London, but rather about the inevitable tête-à-tête with Elizabeth. His initial anger with her had dissipated, but he feared what her response would be to his harsh words, and his own sense of injury that she would have even contemplated that he would wish to end their engagement was vivid. Did she still have so little idea of what she meant to him? Did he mean so little to her? He knew that he could not expect reassurance from her given her own level of distress over her sister, yet it would be difficult, if not impossible, for him to disguise his own feelings.

Mrs. Gardiner was not unaware of the tension between the two, and at the earliest opportunity, she extracted her husband from the room, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth alone. Mr. Gardiner departed only after a hard look at Darcy which carried a distinct warning of how he would view any further behaviour that distressed his niece.

Silence fell between the two. Elizabeth fixed her eyes on her folded hands as if seeking to deny any involvement in this unhappy affair. Darcy's dark gaze was on her, the pain he felt evident in his look, but also mingled with sympathy. He could recognize her silence and averted eyes from past times when she had felt ashamed of her behaviour toward him.

“Elizabeth,” he attempted, “I should not have said what I did earlier, at least not in the way I did. My disposition is such that when I lose my equanimity I am prone to speaking before I think; I have tried, with some success, to moderate this, or at least to prevent it from happening in the first place. I apologize that I was unable to do so today.”

She looked up at him tentatively, relieved that he did not seem inclined to berate her. “I did not intend to anger you,” she said, wishing that she could say more, but unsure how even to begin.

“Do you regret my refusal to release you from your promise?” he said abruptly. He had not meant to ask it, and certainly not so harshly, but the words came out despite his intent.

“No,” she responded in a heartfelt manner to his great relief. “My action represented my concern for you, not a lack of feeling. Please do not think that it signifies any second thoughts on my part.”

“What
am
I to think, given that the moment we run across an obstacle, your first reaction is to sever all contact between us? How should I feel, knowing that you believe that I feel so little for you that I would be prefer never to see you again rather than to tolerate someone I dislike?” His voice reflected the depth of his frustration and pain. “My desire to marry you is not a whim of the moment, Elizabeth.”

“I never thought that it was,” she said, once again near tears.

Darcy cursed himself for upsetting her again. He knelt next to her chair and took her hand in his. “Elizabeth, my dearest love, please believe me when I tell you that there is nothing more important in the world to me than you, and your love is my most valued treasure. I would not give you up for anything.”

Her eyes, luminous with unshed tears, met his, and she put her arms around him. “I will try to trust in that more,” she whispered into his shoulder.

He picked her up and settled her on his lap, where she relaxed into the comfort of his arms with the relief of the resolution of their disagreement predominant in her mind. She felt exhausted by the emotions of the last hours - their closeness on their walk, the shock of Jane's letters, her distress over their future, his anger, and her aunt's criticism all combined to leave her feeling as if she had been buffeted in the wind.

He said softly in her ear, “Do you know how much you frighten me when you withdraw from me? I need you beside me, Elizabeth; I need your affection and warmth.”

She looked up at him. “It frightens me, too,” she said quietly, her face speaking the truth of her statement.

He captured her lips with his in a kiss that spoke more of a need for reassurance than of passion, a need that it met for both of them as they sought to erase their pain and fear in one another's arms. “I do love you, William,” she said, stroking his tousled hair, when he released her. “On that you may depend.”

“Elizabeth, my dearest, you cannot know what that means to me. Thank you for agreeing to come to London.”

“I am not certain
why
I agreed, apart from being able to discern that you wanted me to be there.”

“And is that not reason enough?” he teased. “My reasons for wanting you there are mostly selfish, my love. Dealing with Wickham will be painful and unpleasant, and being able to spend time with you will ease that, and also - well, it is not reasonable, I know, but I would worry if you were as far away as Longbourn. It will be hard enough having you in a different part of the city after this week together.”

“Why would you worry?”

“I said it was not reasonable, did I not? I would worry about losing you somehow, and I must warn you that I am likely to become irritatingly protective of you now that Wickham has tried to hurt me through you.”

She stroked his cheek lightly. “William,” she said hesitantly, “why does he dislike you so?”

Darcy sighed and pulled her close to him. “I suppose that is a fair question, given that you are now involved in the matter, although I cannot say that I enjoy speaking of it. It is not simple to explain, either. We were friends as boys, as you know, and I do not think that he ever forgave me for growing up. When we were young, we tended to a certain degree of wildness; we did what we pleased and were always into one mad scrape or another, and we usually could avoid any consequences, he, because he could charm his way out, and I because of my name. But at a certain point I began to realize that I had responsibilities, ones that did not include playing pranks on the unsuspecting, and I began to try to control my impulses more. It was about this time that I was sent off to school, which was the first time he seemed to feel the difference in our stations, and I believe that he was quite angry to recognize that I had prospects that he did not, and that I was leaving him behind. When I returned after my one year at school, I had become much more serious, and my mother's illness only added to that. He would have grand ideas for adventures for us, and I would choose to sit with my mother instead; this angered him as well. He seemed to set himself to excel wherever I did not, and strove to be everyone's favorite. He was charming and amiable where I was the proverbial dull boy; he could make my father believe anything, usually to my detriment, but when all was said and done, I was still heir to Pemberley, and he was merely to have the living at Kympton.”

He paused, raking his hand through his hair. “It is not as if he is my nemesis, or even particularly evil, you understand. He is feckless, impulsive, and an opportunist par extraordinaire, and he can improvise on any situation at a moment's notice. I do not believe that he spends his time devising ways to hurt me, but he cannot resist sticking in the knife whenever an opportunity presents itself. You saw him in action in Meryton; it was purely coincidence that our paths crossed there, and it profited him nothing to malign my name, but he could not resist the opportunity. It was only my ill fortune that he happened to pour his venom into the ear of someone whose good opinion I desired; I have no doubt that his satisfaction was merely to have everyone dislike me and admire him. Georgiana was an opportunity for quick money for him more than anything else; had he succeeded, he would have enjoyed watching how much I hated what he had done, and I am sure he would have derived great pleasure from forcing me to treat him as an equal if he married my sister, but his primary motivation was her dowry. He has always loved money and profligacy. I doubt that he made a great plan to inveigle Lydia into eloping with him; I suspect that he merely saw the opportunity and could not resist it.”