Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (38 page)

“Elizabeth . . .”  Darcy’s hand fell to his ring. 

Richard went to the bottles of port sitting on a nearby table and poured out two glasses, put the stopper back in place and rested his palms on the surface.  “Do you want complete honesty?  I wanted to kill him.”

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Because you chose not to.”  Richard turned his head to look at him.  “You know without a doubt that a man twice Georgiana’s age persuaded her, took advantage of her adolescent idiocy and kept her, used her for months and left her facing a tenuous future.  With that letter he sent, you had him in your grasp.  If I could find him, any man that you hired for the job could have done so.  But you did not.  Why?”

“It is easier to give in than to stand up and say no.”  Darcy met Richard’s serious gaze.  “That is what started all of this.  If I had said no to Georgiana, if Father had said no to Wickham . . .”  He looked out of the window.  “We would not be awaiting a midwife.  Wickham’s death now would not change a thing.  Nursing a grudge only kills the one who holds it.” 

Richard brought him his glass and held it out to him.  “So you chose to let it go.” 

“I chose to live in the present.  I will not forget the past.”  He stared out at the drive and the road beyond.  Taking a drink, he started when there was a knock at the door. 

“Will?” 

His eyes widened and looking around the room, he cursed under his breath.  The door opened and Elizabeth entered with a plate in her hand.  She took a look at him, then at Richard, and then slowly her gaze travelled the room.  The plate of shortbread hit the floor when her hands went to her face.  “
What
happened?” 

“Oh Lizzy . . .”

Richard dove for the plate.  “No, do not drop this!”  

“What happened to you?  I was not gone a quarter hour!”  She looked at Richard accusingly.  “This is
your
fault.”

“
My
fault?” 

“When I left here, Fitzwilliam was quite content.” 

“Was he?”  Richard grinned. 

Darcy sent him a quelling look and turned to Elizabeth, “I would be glad to be made content again . . .”

“Do not try to distract me, Fitzwilliam Darcy!”  She touched his face and ran her hand over his coat.  “This is ripped!” 

“Is it?”  He looked down and removing the coat, held it up.  “I . . . suppose that we should have disrobed a bit before we began.”

“Definitely.  You wear your clothes far too tight.  You need some give in them if you are going to be hitting someone.”  Richard took a bite of shortbread and then dipped it into his wine.  “mmm.” 

Elizabeth snatched the biscuit away from him.  “You were brawling!”

“No, you have to be drunk for that.”  Darcy smiled a little.

“Are you?”  She looked around at the mess. “Oh, the vase!” 

“I am sorry, dear.  Richard fell on it.”

Richard pointed.  “He threw me onto it.”

“I did not throw you, I . . . manoeuvred you there.” 

“That’s a creative description.”  Richard held out his hand and rubbed over his ribs.  “Well, I am just paying back the favour.  Truce?” 

Darcy met his eye and nodding, took his hand.  “Truce.”  Elizabeth was left hugging herself.  Darcy let go of Richard and smiled a little.  “You look utterly lost, dear.” 

“You two are cleaning this up.”  She searched her sleeves for a handkerchief and snatched the one that Darcy offered to wipe her eyes.  “I do not know what is happening here, but we have the minister and his sister coming.  I will not have this household in any more of an uproar than it already is.  If you two cannot get along . . .”

“Elizabeth.”  Richard smiled as she dabbed at her cheeks.  “You would make Miss Kelly laugh.”

“Why?”  She sniffed and feeling a tug on her hand, settled into Darcy’s arms. 

“Because she grew up watching her brothers fight one minute and be friends the next.”

“Well . . . I have sisters . . .” 

“Do they make up so easily?”  Darcy asked softly and kissed her forehead. 

“No. They hold grudges.”  Richard and Darcy laughed.  “But they do not destroy the furnishings.  What happened here?” 

“Oh, sweetheart . . . may I tell you later?” 

“Oh yes, sir, you
will
tell me.”  Letting go, she looked him over.  “Now . . . clean this up.  Give me that coat and I will bring you another.”

“I can just go up . . .” Darcy watched her brows rise and her hands land on her hips.  “I guess that I will be occupied.” 

She left the room and the men knelt together on the floor, Darcy gathering the bits of the table and Richard the shards of porcelain. Darcy looked at him and blew out his cheeks.  Richard lifted his chin at the door.  “What has Elizabeth all teary?  I would think she should have ripped us apart and fed us to the dogs.”

“She does not need to; her obvious disappointment is as effective as a raised voice.”  Darcy glanced worriedly back at the door.  “But I know that her emotions are already high today, just as mine are.  We both believe that Jennifer’s instincts are correct, the birth is imminent.”

“When are your aunt and uncle coming?”

“They should be on their way, actually.”  He stood and looked for somewhere to put the broken table.  “Do you think that this can be salvaged?” 

“See what Ferguson can make of it, he seems a handy fellow.”  Richard smiled when Darcy bit his lip.  “What is it?” 

“He brought Georgiana flowers a few days ago.” 

“That was kind.  I hope that you do not see any more in it than that.”  Richard rubbed his neck.  “Although, if you grab him by the throat like you did to me I promise you he will confess to anything.” 

“I apologize.”  Darcy sat down and began twisting his ring.  “I do not know what came over me.”

“Of course you do, you are the one carrying Georgiana’s burden. Not me, not your uncle, but you.  And we took that authority away from you.”  Richard dropped the remains of the vase into a bowl.  “I am the one to apologize for making things worse.”

“At least it was in Cheapside.  It will not go far, certainly not to Mayfair.”  He looked at Richard who nodded encouragingly.

“I do not see that shopkeeper telling any gentleman the story, and I bet that he has the name muddled by now.”

“Probably.”  Darcy sighed and looked towards the door.  “I am going upstairs, manage the guests if they come, would you?” 

“Of course.”  Richard watched him go and closed his eyes. 
Idiot!  I am so sorry, I only wanted to help.  Maybe I should just return to the army.  I did no harm there.
  Walking back to the bottles of port, he poured himself another glass and was lifting it to his lips when he saw a sparkle in the corner of the room.  He set down the glass and bent to pick up his fallen snuff box.  His hand closed around it. “Forgive me, Sophie.  I will stay.” 

DARCY RAN UP THE STAIRS and calling Elizabeth’s name, found her sitting in his shaving chair busily stitching the tear in his coat.  “Dearest, what are you doing?”

“Sewing.” 

“That, I can see.”  Darcy watched her at work and considering her stiff posture, opened a wardrobe door to take down a fresh coat.  “I . . . apologize for the commotion.” 

Her voice was icy.  “Please do not tell me this was some display of frustration due to our unfulfilled desires.  And I hope this was not the result of some sort of male posturing.  That would be completely out of your character.” 

“Yes, it would.”  He slipped the coat on and buttoning it, stood behind the chair and studied her skilful hands.  “The frustration fuelled my fire, but it was not the spark.  A letter was.”  Her hands stopped working and he placed a hand upon her shoulder.  “Mr. Gardiner heard of Georgiana’s ruin and wrote to me about it.”  Elizabeth’s head shot up and she spun around.  “Richard confronted Wickham in London and our name was spoken, as was confirmation of Georgiana’s condition.”  She gasped and her hand went to her mouth.  “Wickham was looking for money . . .” 

“Sir?”  Parker appeared at the door.  “Mr. Campbell and Mrs. Dickson appear to be coming up the drive.”

“Thank you.”  Darcy nodded and turned back to Elizabeth.  “I will give you his letter later.  I think, I pray, that it will remain a secret.” 

“Oh, Will.” 

Taking the coat from her hands, he laid it aside and she rose to rest in his arms.  “I went momentarily insane.  Richard entered at precisely the wrong time.” 

“I hope that you hit him once for me.”  She whispered. 

Darcy smiled and drew back to look down at the face pressed to his chest.  “I did not use a pillow.”

“Good.” 

“Now tell me, why were you crying?  Both Richard and I expected a tongue-lashing, not tears.” 

“I had just confronted Mrs. Shaw.  I had to be the Mistress of Pemberley, if you understand my meaning.”  She looked up to see his smile growing.  “I am not fond of raising my voice.”

“But you do it so very effectively, even when you employ no more than a disappointed look.”  She sighed and squeezed his waist. “We have one more battle sweetheart, I know that you are tired, but please do not lose your fight yet.  I need you.”

“I need you, too, but I would like to hide beneath the covers in bed with you until it is all over.” Elizabeth whispered. 

Pressing his lips to her brow, he closed his eyes, “Will you ask Mrs. Dickson about your suspicions?”

“I will.”  She felt his embrace tighten.  “I already know the answer, Will.  It is likely all of my worrying over you, Georgiana, my father . . . everything combined to make it stop, and the bleeding I had was my body trying to . . . be ready again.”

His hand was caressing over her waist as he listened, “From what I felt before, you body is more than ready.  Incredibly, intoxicatingly ready.”

“And yours is more than ready to accommodate me.”  Elizabeth lifted her head from his chest and sighed as his mouth embraced her lips.

Darcy withdrew and kissed her nose.  He smiled softly and brushed back a curl that obstinately returned to its place. “Anytime, anywhere, I will gladly give myself to you.”  They heard the bell and both drew steadying breaths.  Elizabeth fussed over his cravat and when she stopped, he took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.  “Well, Mrs. Darcy, perhaps this is the beginning of the end.  At last.” 

Chapter 15

10 May 1812

Sommerwald

Dumfries

Dear Mr. Gardiner,

Darcy stared at the page.  As the ink began to drip from his pen, blots formed over his salutation.  “Do I call you Uncle as you invited me to?”  He flexed his left hand and concentrated on the memory of his first meeting with the man in his small study.   Calling him a name so intimate was the last thing he ever imagined doing. 
A relationship, cordial for Elizabeth’s sake, but Uncle?
  He bit his lip and considered his two other uncles, one who wished to use him, the other . . . at that particular moment he did not know what he thought of Uncle Harding.  He rubbed his hand over his face, and taking out a clean sheet, he dipped his pen in the inkpot and began to write.

10 May 1812

Sommerwald

Dumfries

Dear Gardiner,

I hope that you understand when I say that I was appalled to receive your letter.  I wish, deeply, that I could send you a letter angrily denying all of it.  It grieves me that I cannot.  The culmination of this terrible situation is rapidly approaching and my heart is in my mouth.  If I did not have my dearest Elizabeth by my side, I would be running mad. 

You offer your help, and I appreciate the gesture, however I cannot imagine what you might do for us beyond keeping your silence.  The shopkeeper has had weeks to disseminate his tale.  Whatever is said, whatever form it has taken after countless retellings, is out of our hands.  My hope is that the distance, if not in miles but in society, will protect us.  

I will not say more on this subject.  However, I will say that I love your niece with every fibre of my being, and if I had been such a fool as to miss the chance to be her husband, I would have regretted it all the days of my life.

I hope that you will be visiting us at Pemberley when you come to the Peaks.  I look forward to knowing you better.

Sincerely yours,

Darcy

“I address him as I would a friend.  I believe that he will understand that.”  Darcy spoke as he read the letter over, and closed his tired eyes as the clock chimed midnight.  He searched for a new occupation and nodding, reached for a fresh sheet of paper.  “I need to write to Lizzy.  I need to tell her how much I love her . . .”  Throwing down the pen, he suddenly jumped up from his chair and stood at the window, flexing his hand.  “Will this not stop?”  He demanded as he rubbed at his arm.  There was a numb, tingling sensation running through it, one that had been coming and going for months, but this night it was a constant companion.  The entire left side of his chest felt tight and burning all at once.  Determinedly, he tried to ignore it while his heart pounded and he tried to catch his breath.  “Lord, please do not take me now.  Not now . . .”  Panic was rising in his breast and he fought against it.  Closing his eyes, he saw his father collapse and die again.  He saw the cottage in Ramsgate, emptied of his sister and her belongings.  He saw Elizabeth pulling off her wedding band and running away.  Concentrating hard, he attempted every relaxation technique he had ever discovered, breathing slowly, counting backwards, envisioning Pemberley . . . nothing worked.  Nothing distracted him from the incessant beat of his heart in his ears.  
Help me
.

“There you are.”  Darcy started when Elizabeth slipped her arms around his waist.  “I woke and the bed was cold.  I have not slept in a cold bed since the night we married, and quite frankly, I do not wish to experience it again.” 

“Lizzy.”  He said softly, closing his eyes with relief when he felt her head resting against his back, and covered her hands with his, grasping them like a lifeline.