Darcy's Temptation (42 page)

Earlier, Elizabeth encouraged Mr. Harrison to wait until Monday morning to return to Hines Park. “No gentleman
should travel on the Sabbath,” she reasoned,“even if your estate is only a few hours away.”

“Must you encourage my sister's relationship with Mr. Harrison?” Darcy asked her sharply as he passed Elizabeth in the front foyer.

Elizabeth, already irritated by his foul mood, did not guard her words. “Your sister prefers Mr. Harrison's company. There was a time, Mr. Darcy, you would want Georgiana to be happy; now it seems you want her simply to obey. My opinion of Mr. Harrison was never one of his inappropriateness for Georgiana, it only was with the timing of his entreaty.That opinion changed when Mr. Harrison protected Georgiana from George Wickham and the day he came here to help me with this estate while you were off kissing the gloved hand of Elizabeth Donnelly at Darling Hall.”

“If Mr. Harrison's connections had not put my sister's life in danger, I would not have gone to Hull in the first place,” he snapped.

“You cannot possibly be thinking of putting the blame for that ill-fated trip and your attack on Mr. Harrison,” Elizabeth hissed. She moved in closer to challenge Darcy.Trying to control the volume of her voice so as not to alert the whole household of their dispute, she continued, “It was Captain Rutherford whom we feared. Mr. Harrison shows nothing but the highest respect for Georgiana. He has a fine estate, worth six thousand pounds a year; he cares for Georgiana, and she has feelings for him. How is this such a bad arrangement for
our
sister?”

“It just goes to show how little you know about fine society.” Darcy's words affected Elizabeth, but she did not move. His face was inches from hers. “Country society is not what I would choose for Georgiana. She will inhabit a world different from what you know.”

“I see we are back to my poor connections,” Elizabeth retorted, never once giving him forgiveness for his lack of civility. “Do you want me gone, too, Fitzwilliam?” she demanded.

“Of course not,” he began but then stopped short. They stood staring at each other. Darcy made grown men retreat with that stare, but Elizabeth refused to budge. Finally, he turned and walked away from her, retreating to his study and slamming the door along the way.

 

Hours later, Elizabeth came to him; Darcy sat behind his desk, his work left unfinished. Elizabeth's light tap on the door brought him some relief. He held remorse for arguing with her earlier. “May I come in?” Elizabeth asked quietly, remaining at the door until she could assess his mood.

Darcy stood to greet her.“Please do.”

“Fitzwilliam, I am sorry for my foul temper earlier; it was unconscionable of me to speak to you thusly.” Elizabeth had practiced what she wanted to say to him. She would not apologize for her opinions, but she would offer regrets for her tone.

“I, too, was out of line.” To prove he forgave her, Darcy embraced her, pulling her to him so Elizabeth's head rested on his chest. “I should be more considerate of your condition; I understand many women are temperamental when they are with child.” He stroked her head gently as he spoke.

Elizabeth paused, trying to decide whether she heard him correctly. She loosened his grip on her and walked several steps away before turning to Darcy and saying,“You cannot possibly think my opinion of your sister's position has anything to do with my condition? Do not think I am just being emotional; my opinions have nothing to do with the child I carry.”

“Elizabeth,” he stammered,“I chose my words poorly. Please, I do not wish to leave tomorrow with our being at odds.”

Elizabeth's countenance softened as she returned to Darcy's arms.

“Sweet, Elizabeth, we should not argue,” he whispered, feeling the closeness of her body to his.

Elizabeth could not speak; being in Darcy's arms was where she wanted to be, and she began to evaluate how much she was willing to give into him just to have this closeness continue.

“It is true Mr. Harrison could be a viable candidate for Georgiana,” Darcy said softly, “yet, I strongly believe a more suitable man exists, and I will find my sister such a match.” Darcy's confidence played through his voice. “I seek your support with my sister, Elizabeth.You earned Georgiana's trust, and I expect you to help me convince her otherwise.”

Again, her husband's words affected her being, and impulsively, Elizabeth stiffened in his embrace.“Fitzwilliam, I do not think I can speak out against Mr. Harrison. Because I have Georgiana's trust, I cannot betray her. If your sister affects another, then I will support her choice, but I will not try to convince her to go against her heart.”

“As my wife, you must do what I ask of you!” His voice rose in volume as he strode away from her.

Elizabeth's face flushed.“Do not take the love, honor, and
obey
vow too seriously, Mr. Darcy. I am not of the nature to be reprimanded and expected to
behave
. My father tried for years, much to his chagrin, but I prefer sugar to vinegar in my dealings.”

“God, how did I become so ensnared?” Darcy threw up his hands in a lament.

A flash of anger sparked in her eyes.“Last night you seemed happy to be
so ensnared
!” Elizabeth nearly shouted.

“Please control your voice, Elizabeth,” Darcy seethed with fury.

“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “Heaven forbid we show any emotion. Do you know, Fitzwilliam, you used to kiss me in front of the servants?”

“Maybe in Hertfordshire such lax impropriety is acceptable,” he quipped,“but I will maintain a standard at Pemberley.”

Elizabeth demanded sarcastically, “Please instruct me, Mr. Darcy—I am all ears. Make me an able student!”

Darcy moved in close so his words would not be misunderstood. “From what I experienced last night. . . .” He stopped short, stifling his words.

Emotion misted her eyes, and Elizabeth's lip trembled, but her voice held no fear of Darcy's presence. “Of what do you accuse me, Sir?”

“Nothing—I spoke out of place.” Darcy moved past her to return to his desk.

“Fitzwilliam, I cannot believe you think so poorly of me.” Tears streamed down her face.

“I never said anything,” he began.“I was surprised—that is all.”

She demanded,“Surprised! About what?”

“I assumed you might be. . . .”Again, Darcy could not say the words, but to Elizabeth's dismay he, obviously, thought them.

Her voice shook, but Elizabeth spoke vehemently.“Sir, you seem to imply my low connections make me a pure wanton. What I know of the marriage bedroom, I learned from you. How dare you imply otherwise! It is my shame I love you enough to abandon my mother's warnings. However, you will not have to worry about my shortcomings again; my bedroom door is closed to you, Sir.” Elizabeth turned on her heels and exited the room.

 

At dinner, Elizabeth pretended a headache and excused herself from the meal. She could not face Darcy and his censure.What seemed a renewal of their relationship during the night now loomed like a wall through which there was no access. Her tears flowed constantly, and the pain of her loss hurt throughout her being. Darcy sent word to Elizabeth through Hannah he wished her to join them, but Elizabeth sent back her regrets. He tried to shrug off her refusal in front of the others in the household, but her reaction to his words earlier created a gulf between them.

Why did he react to their night together as such? He did not object during the throes of desire. His wife knew exactly what flamed his passion, and when Elizabeth touched him, Darcy's willpower crumbled; yet, he could not in the light of day justify how their passion went beyond the laws of propriety, and how he allowed himself to be placed in such a position. Darcy could not imagine any gentleman taking such pleasures in his wife—maybe in his mistress, but never in his wife. A wife was to be treated gently and with respect. The contradiction, however, was Darcy wanted Elizabeth; he wanted her more than he could admit even to himself, but his desires mortified him. If he were to take her again, Darcy would treat Elizabeth with more respect—the respect she deserved as his wife and the Mistress of Pemberley.

 

Elizabeth paced back and forth in her room.Where had everything gone so wrong? She and Darcy faced every trial and found each other despite their earlier misconstructions; then her world imploded. Darcy lost his memories—their memories—and now he judged her, judged their devotion to each other by standards she had not considered to be in effect.When he came to her, she reacted to him the way she always had—not society and not propriety—only this conflagration, which connected them. The solace of Darcy's embrace seemed so right, but now Elizabeth in a paroxysm of guilt regretted their intimacies. It was as if Darcy considered their time together a flagrant breach of propriety. How could she unlearn how to love him? How could she control her vulnerability to Darcy?

 

It was late Sunday evening when Darcy knocked on Elizabeth's door. She would know it to be him because only he had access from their shared sitting room to her bedroom. He wondered whether she would admit him after their earlier argument. When he heard her call out, “Come,” he took a deep breath
before turning the door's handle. Darcy stood outlined by the door's frame, not sure what he should do next. Elizabeth sat in the window seat, refusing to even look at him.

“I came to see if your headache subsided,” he stumbled through the words.

The coldness in her voice could not be hidden. “We both know, Fitzwilliam, a headache was not why I refused to come to the table.” Still, she spoke to her own reflection in the window rather than to Darcy.

“I am sorry to hear it,” he said softly as he stepped further into the room.“I did not wish you to be ill, but I would prefer your temporary discomfort to a more permanent riff between us. I should have tempered my words earlier.” By now, he stood at the foot of her bed.

“Tempering your words means nothing unless you changed your sentiment, too.”

Darcy pleaded,“Elizabeth, please look at me.”

Slowly, she turned her head, but Darcy saw only contempt in her eyes. “Do you have other commands for me to follow, Sir?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“It was not an order,” he whispered.With a bit more effort he said, “I plan to leave for London early tomorrow. I hoped we could resolve this before I left.”

Needing to move, Elizabeth got up from her seat and started past him. “Tell me what you want me to say, Fitzwilliam, and I will say the words, and you may be on your merry way. It is getting late, and I have a busy day tomorrow
pretending
to be the Mistress of Pemberley.”

Darcy could not follow her line of thinking. “You are the Mistress of Pemberley,” he said flatly.

“I am your wife,” Elizabeth turned on him, “but without your respect and your love, I have no real identity. I am no better than your property—no better than your steward or your tenants or your valet. I perform my job as the Mistress of
Pemberley, but I will
not
perform my job as chattel—as the woman with whom you take your pleasures but to whom you give no respect.”

Darcy reached for her, but Elizabeth shied away from him. “God, Elizabeth, I did not mean what I said. I am confused—my emotions are out of control; I cannot leave tomorrow knowing I caused you such pain.” His voice held his regret.

“Go, Mr. Darcy.” Her icy words had not softened. “I will manage the estate in your absence, just as I promised on our wedding night. Do not ask more of me; I do not think I can promise you anything beyond that.You hurt me as only you can do. I will not speak of this again except to tell you I am sorry to be such a disappointment to you.”

“Elizabeth,” he started, before a flip of her hand told him she was not finished.

“Why was what we experienced in the privacy of our bedroom for society to decide? Why is anything close to real intimacy to you a break in propriety? If I could take it all back, I would; I would take it and put it on the shelf, not to be disturbed again. For me, Fitzwilliam, being with you is like no other place I have ever been—we are great together. I thought with me you would not have to work so hard at being happy. Love cannot be planned like a society event—it happens. It is spontaneous.” Elizabeth's voice rose as she began to pace once more.“Fitzwilliam, do you understand? Life happens despite all your best planning.”

Darcy turned away, not wishing to see the torment he caused her. “Elizabeth, things are different, but we said we did not want it to be different.”

“It is a logical catenation,” she said listlessly, defeated by the quagmire in which they found themselves. “At one time we were the greatest plan you ever made. Now, you feel embarrassed by me.” During this speech she crossed to the door leading to their sitting room and held it open for him.
“Nothing can hurt me as much as your reaction to what we once shared. Good night, Mr. Darcy.”

He stood, mesmerized by her beauty, needing to touch her and wanting nothing more than to take Elizabeth to her bed and enjoy the sensation of loving her freely, but instead Darcy straightened his shoulders and strode from the room.

 

When Elizabeth arose on Monday morning, she knew Darcy left Pemberley for London. Part of her felt relief at not having to face him again; yet, she yearned for Darcy—for the love she once had. She stepped into the sitting room to find the breakfast tray for which she had asked Hannah.

On the tray, a letter written in the fine scrawl with which she was now familiar lay. Elizabeth touched the letters “E. D.,” tracing them with her fingertips. Should she open it right away? If it was a request from Darcy for her to leave Pemberley, Elizabeth did not want to read the words. However, maybe he considered her words as he had long ago at Hunsford. Elizabeth could not believe their love could not survive; yet, Darcy's behavior of late told her he preferred a different lifestyle from what they once knew.