A Pemberley Medley (A Pride & Prejudice Variation) (14 page)

As he spoke, Elizabeth could hear the pain of betrayal behind all of his carefully reasoned words, and suspected that Wickham was not the only one haunted by the ghosts of that early friendship. She stroked his cheek gently. Impulsively, she said, “Thank you for loving me enough to allow me a second chance.”

“How could I not love you? I tried not to love you, but it was not to be; I have been yours for a very long time. Even had you refused to have anything more to do with me, I could never have stopped loving you.”

She could think of no answer for this but a lingering kiss, which she broke off abruptly as a thought came to her. “What are we going to tell Georgiana?” she asked with dismay.

Darcy frowned. “I shall tell her that I have to go to London on business, and that you are accompanying me, I suppose.”

“She will have to know the truth sooner or later,” Elizabeth said hesitantly. “She dislikes being treated as a child; perhaps we should trust her in this.”

His first thought was to contradict her, but then he thought better of it, recalling that one of his hopes for Elizabeth was that she would understand Georgiana more readily than he did. Still, it went against the grain not to protect his sister from unpleasantness, particularly when it touched so closely on her. Finally, he asked slowly, “Do you think that would be best?”

“I believe so, but you know her better than I.”

“Your instincts with her are better,” he replied, thinking how little he wished to raise the subject of Wickham with his sister. “Would it be cowardly to ask you to tell her? She will likely be more open with her feelings to you.”

“If you wish,” she said. “Perhaps I should talk to her now, so that she has some time to take it in before we leave.”

Darcy was less than happy with the idea of allowing Elizabeth to leave. He felt that she had not yet recovered herself from the shocks of the day; he wished that she would smile, or show him that sparkle in her eyes, so that he could feel secure of her state. Perhaps it was too much to ask, though. “I suppose that makes sense,” he said, kissing her forehead, “much though I would prefer to keep you here in my arms.”

“Sooner or later someone is bound to walk in,” she replied practically. “We have been fortunate thus far.”

“I bow reluctantly to your wisdom,” he said, releasing her. As she headed past the door, he added, “And, Elizabeth...”

“Yes?”

“Do not try to end the engagement again, even should you be convicted of murder and awaiting hanging in Newgate Prison. I do not want to hear ever again that you are worried about damaging my reputation in some way.”

She smiled in amusement. “I shall keep that in mind, William, though at present I can assure you that I have no particular plans to murder anyone.”

Georgiana took the news as well as could be expected. There were some tears, and a little of the stiff Darcy pride that Elizabeth knew hid feelings too painful to expose to the world. When Georgiana requested some time to herself to consider the matter, Elizabeth encouraged her in finding her own strength, and honoured her request.

She considered hiding in her room again herself, but brooding would not be helpful at this stage; she needed to save her strength for the days ahead. With a sigh, she collected her embroidery and returned to the study. Darcy was only too happy to have her companionship and, after asking after his sister, returned to the papers he was obligated to complete before their departure on the morrow.

Elizabeth was content to sit quietly as she worked, but eventually thoughts of Lydia began to intrude despite her best efforts to discourage them. She had grave fears for her sister's future - even if Wickham could somehow be brought to marry her, what sort of future could she have, as a wife to such a wastrel? Lydia had never learned to consider the consequences when choosing her pleasures, and now the consequences would be dreadful indeed, not only for herself but for her entire family. How could Lydia have been so heedless as to behave in such a brazen manner?

Yet how could Elizabeth condemn her completely when she herself had permitted liberties so far beyond the proprieties herself, when she herself had behaved in a shameless manner when confronted by temptation? She was equally at fault, only more fortunate in the outcome; she had taken the similar risks to her own reputation and that of her family each time she had allowed Darcy to touch her. A sense of shame began to gnaw its way through her.

She stared blindly at her embroidery.
No better than Lydia,
she thought, the words burning her like acid. She could not even bring herself to look in Darcy's direction. Feeling the need to escape, she stood suddenly, drawing his attention. “Please excuse me,” she said. “There is something I must fetch.”

Darcy was puzzled. “Elizabeth, wait, please,” he said, noticing the lines of stress in her face, and wondering if she could be trying to run away again. “Something is troubling you, I can tell. Will you not tell me about it, my love?”

Elizabeth knew that she was caught, and it gave her a moment of panic. “It is nothing that requires attention,” she said anxiously.

He sat back, looking at her unhappily, wishing he knew how to convince her to confide in him. “Can you trust me enough to let me be the judge of that?” he said as gently as he could manage.

And you do not trust him sufficiently to speak to him about your fears.
Her aunt's words came back to her, and she paused in indecision. He would want her to tell him, she knew, but she was far from wishing to share these thoughts. She certainly did not want to draw his attention to the similarities between herself and Lydia - she could imagine the expression of distaste he would have on his face. Yet if she could not have faith in him not to reject her, perhaps it was best to discover it now. With a sense of fear looming, she said half-unwillingly, “I was seeking privacy, sir, because I have been reviewing my own behaviour in light of these events and finding it wanting.”

Her distant form of address worried him. “What behaviour do you have in mind? I can think of none that has been wanting in any way.”

“I see little difference in Lydia's heedless behaviour and my own...” she paused, her face pale, “my own shameless conduct of recent weeks. It is not a comfortable conclusion.”

He rose and came to her, taking her hands in his. “It is a very
questionable
conclusion, in my opinion. How can you compare the two? Your sister's reckless decision to elope rather than to approach your parents about marriage, and with a man she barely knew - how does that balance against allowing a few liberties to a man who has already declared his intentions, whom you had known for some time, and to whom your family had social connections? I cannot imagine that if I had asked you to elope in the first days of our acquaintance, you would have done anything but laugh at me! Would you have permitted my kisses if you did not know my intentions?” His earnestness was apparent.

“No,” she said with a small smile. “You are correct, I would not have done so. But I did risk both my reputation and that of my family, as we saw in Hertfordshire.”

“If we are to impose blame for that behaviour, I believe that
I
deserve more than an equal share! All the same, you knew that the risk was not serious, that if there were any compromise, I would marry you, and you knew that my credentials as a potential son-in-law were good. We may have been imprudent, my love, but hardly reckless - hardly the equivalent of what Lydia and Wickham have done. Our situation was unusual, after all - that you had refused me but were still allowing me to court you - and the usual rules for pre-engagement behaviour are difficult to apply in such a circumstance. You could hardly pretend to be unaware of my interest in you!” He looked at her challengingly.

“Perhaps I did assume too far,” she allowed. “You are very good to me, William.”

“Just because you are soon to become a Darcy does not mean that you need to challenge us in the art of jumping to conclusions, my love,” he said teasingly. As his comment finally drew a natural smile from her, he embraced her gently. “Besides, I do not believe that I ever touched you just for my amusement; I did so when the alternative seemed to be leading me down the road to Bedlam.”

Elizabeth gave him a sidelong look. “I hardly think you were at that grave a risk,” she said.

“Do not think to test that theory now, madam,” he replied lightly. “My need for your kisses still borders on the desperate.”

She smiled as he leaned down to capture her mouth in an affectionate kiss.

It came as a surprise to all concerned when Georgiana made the determined announcement at dinner that she intended to accompany them to London. Darcy, making a valiant effort at not refusing out of hand, glanced over at Elizabeth, who nodded slightly. Finally he said, “If that is what you wish, then, I see no reason to refuse. I must warn you, though, that this trip will be strictly business - there will be no time for outings or other pleasures.”

Georgiana acknowledged the point, but insisted on following her plans. Later, when she was able to speak to Elizabeth privately, she thanked her for her support. “I know that William would have never agreed to it on his own, and I do want to go. It is not that there is anything I can do to help, but I do
not
want to spend the rest of my life trying to avoid whatever part of the country he might be in. This seems as good a time as any to face my fears.”

Elizabeth embraced her. “I am glad that you have found that courage. That is the first step to healing.”

“I cannot help but think that it could have been me, but for the chance of William's arrival,” she said softly. “I was such a fool.
You
would never have been taken in so, Elizabeth.”

“I beg to differ, I spent a good deal of time in Mr. Wickham's company, and I was quite taken with his amiability and manners. I even believed lies that he told me about your brother,” Elizabeth said ruefully.

“I find that hard to believe!” Georgiana exclaimed, then, realizing what she had said, timidly retreated, saying, “I do not mean to doubt your word, Elizabeth; it is only that it surprises me.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “It seems we are all vulnerable to having our hearts lead us astray from what is right,” she said, thinking of the principles she had violated in her behaviour with Darcy.

“Some of us more than others,” said Georgiana wistfully.

They set out early the next morning in the elegant Darcy travelling carriage, quite possibly the most comfortable conveyance in which Elizabeth had ever ridden, and certainly the fastest. Conversation was somewhat stilted for quite some time, as the subject which preoccupied three of the travellers -- the plans for London and ideas for how to discover Wickham and Lydia -- were unsuitable for the fourth. Georgiana, acutely aware of the fact that her presence was inhibiting the others, became even more reticent than usual.

They travelled as expeditiously as possible; and after sleeping one night on the road, reached Gracechurch Street the following evening. Elizabeth exited the carriage with relief after the long ride. Darcy joined her, as he hoped to speak with Mr. Bennet regarding his plans.

Mr. Bennet looked years older than he had when they had left Longbourn. Elizabeth, concerned by her father's appearance, moved to embrace him. A quick exchange of words established that there had been no progress in the matter of discovering Wickham and Lydia.

“Mr. Bennet, may I have a word with you?” asked Darcy formally. “My sister is waiting in the carriage, and I would like to take her home as soon as possible.”

Mr. Bennet, curious, ushered him into the sitting room. “Well, Mr. Darcy, if I am surprised to see my daughter tonight, I am quite baffled as to what brings you here.” He would have thought that under the circumstances, Darcy would be keeping the greatest possible distance from the Bennet family, and had in fact had moments of concern over Elizabeth's engagement to him.