Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A fter settling Elizabeth and his sister into the carriage, Darcy was quick to apologise.
“You should not have been subject to Lady Catherine’s abominable manners. You were very gracious, far more than she deserved.”
“Your aunt insulted me, but she did not wound me.” Elizabeth turned to Georgiana. “I am more concerned for you.”
“I am much better now. I am never at ease when she enters the room,”
“You are not alone in that regard.” Darcy looked out of the window, trying to keep the anger from his voice. “But her comments to Miss Bennet were unpardonable. I have no choice but to sever all connexion with her.”
Elizabeth cried, “Do not do it for my sake!”
He could keep his temper no longer, and turning to her, he said, “Very well. I shall do it for my mother, whose memory she insulted.”
He returned his attention to the window, trying not to relive every cutting remark Lady Catherine had made at the expense of his mother’s happiness. He regretted his tone; he knew he should beg Elizabeth’s forgiveness for the way he spoke to her, but he was not yet master of the turmoil raging within him. He glanced at her, half-expecting her to be upset, but her expression was one of concern.
“If she were here, what would your mother ask you to do?” Elizabeth enquired.
“My mother was so gentle-hearted that she would insist I make peace with my aunt at the first opportunity.” Darcy snorted. “She indulged all of Lady Catherine’s matrimonial designs to avoid arguing with her. My father would not have approved of the match, however.”
“Our father wished for us to marry well,” Georgiana said quietly. Her expression was full of sadness, and he guessed she was thinking of Wickham. Anger rose within him again. How long would she bear the guilt of that cad’s advances?
“It is only natural that he should want the best for you.”
Elizabeth spoke soothingly, but her cheeks were red. Too late, he realised that Georgiana’s words might be interpreted as a remark about his engagement to Elizabeth. Was she insulted? Lady Catherine’s criticism of her rang through his ears. He hated the burden the unfair speculation had placed upon her. He took in Georgiana’s downcast face. How would she fare if the truth about her cursed indiscretion were revealed? He sat up and knocked on the roof. The carriage slowed, and Darcy leant out to speak to the coachman to order a change of direction. The coachman’s whip cracked and soon they were away again.
It was not long before the carriage halted once more, this time on a modest road lined with nondescript houses and shop fronts.
“Heavens, where are we?” Georgiana’s face was still pale, but she regarded the street with some curiosity.
Darcy paused, wondering if he had erred by bringing them here. He looked again at Elizabeth; she had done so well in the face of his aunt’s impertinence. It was only right that she knew the truth.
He pointed towards the far end of the street. “That is the home of Mrs O’Rourke. She was the particular friend of Lady Catherine’s late husband, Sir Lewis.”
Georgiana gasped but Elizabeth gave him a curious look. “Why did you bring us here?” she asked.
“Because I cannot bear the secrecy and lies, the hypocrisy and judgment that we use to crush one another. Lady Catherine insinuated that you and I have conducted ourselves dishonourably, yet her husband was a frequent visitor to that house throughout their marriage.”
He turned to his sister, thinking of the threatening messages he had received. “It is important that you know of it too, Georgiana. I cannot keep you protected from the dangers of this world, for it is full of people who behave with impunity. Perhaps I am wrong to show you this, but I hope it will help you understand my anger at Lady Catherine. Miss Bennet and I have done nothing wrong. If anyone makes some crude speculation in the same manner as our aunt, I urge you not to listen to them. People can be cruel and unfeeling. You must learn to rise above it.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened with surprise, but she did not pass comment.
“Do you believe that Lady Catherine knows of her existence?” asked Elizabeth.
Darcy nodded. “My father told me of it on his deathbed. Sir Lewis has a child with her, a son whom he loved more than his legitimate daughter. My father and Lord Matlock paid for his commission in the army. I have assumed my father’s responsibility for Lewis O'Rourke's military career. Lady Catherine is aware of the arrangements.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened, and he thought he detected a hint of pride in her voice when she said, “You have made it your habit to be involved in the lives of those around you, have you not? It does you credit.”
“But look at my repayment,” he said bitterly. “Observe my aunt’s gratitude. Given her husband’s indiscretions, it is insupportable that she holds herself superior to you.”
Reaching across to him, she covered his hand with hers. “We cannot control the actions of others, only how we respond to them.”
She spoke the truth, but then Dominic’s face swam before him, and he closed his eyes briefly, fighting against the memory. “Even if those actions bring nothing but pain?”
She squeezed his hand gently, and the soft pressure of her touch was almost too much for him to bear. He looked at her, and the pain in his chest eased.
“Lady Catherine did not injure me.” Elizabeth carefully removed her hand from Darcy’s and returned it to her lap.
“She will no longer be part of my life, not after her behaviour today,” he said firmly. “My responsibility to Lewis O’Rourke will remain unchanged.” To Georgiana, he added, “I had no intention of ever telling you, but I wish to open your eyes to the secrets that lie hidden in plain sight.”
“I am grateful,” she replied. “I do not think of Lady Catherine as so fearsome now.”
Darcy instructed the driver to go to the Fulfords’ house. He remained silent while Elizabeth and his sister spoke of lighter topics, such as music. As they approached Curzon Street, he detected a slump in Elizabeth’s shoulders, and when he helped her from the carriage and escorted her to the door, her steps appeared hesitant, her expression drawn.
“What will you do with the remainder of the evening?” he asked.
She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “I am unsure. It depends on Lord Fulford.”
“I wonder what prognosis the doctor will give.” Elizabeth glanced at him, clearly wishing to say something, but remained quiet. “Is Fulford gravely ill then?” he said, alarmed at her reticence. When she still did not answer, he gently pressed, “There are to be no secrets between us.”
She gave him a pointed look. “You must ask your cousin if she is happy in her marriage. Please do not ask me anything further. It is Lady Fulford you should speak to.”
“I could go to her now, if you like,” he said, regarding her anxiously.
She paused. “I think it would be better if you spoke to your cousin without her husband close by. I am not certain she would be frank with you in his presence.”
“Are you content to stay here? You must tell me if you are unhappy.”
“So you may rescue me again, Darcy?” She gave him a teasing smile, but there was a tenderness in her voice he had not heard before. “Do not worry about me tonight. Your conversation with Lady Fulford can wait until tomorrow.” He nodded and promised he would arrange a private audience with his cousin at the first opportunity. Suddenly, she shivered, and he realised that he had kept her too long on the doorstep. He knocked at the door, and it was immediately opened by the butler, who must have been waiting for the signal.
“I thank you for tolerating my family, despite their less than warm welcome,”
“Think nothing of it, Darcy. Indeed, let us not compare vexatious relations. It is a competition I am sure to win.” She tilted her head and smiled so beautifully at him it was as though the world around them melted away. Without thinking, he abruptly took her hand and kissed it.
“Until tomorrow,” he said, desperately hoping that she had not been offended by his family’s rudeness.
“Until tomorrow,” she replied, seemingly breathless, before composing herself. With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, she added, “I shall be sure to wear red.”
Lord Fulford was not at home when Elizabeth returned, and he had not appeared by the following morning. Lady Fulford made no mention of it, and Elizabeth could sense her relief at his absence; it was one she shared. At breakfast, they spoke of Lady Catherine, and her hostess performed an impressive mimicry.
“I did not think I would live to see my father standing his ground against her,” Lady Fulford said. “And your bravery! Tell me your secret—where did you learn such exquisite self-possession?”
Elizabeth laughed, embarrassed by her friend’s admiration. “My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”
“I must take a leaf from your book and learn how to conceal all the strength of a tiger under the sweetness of a kitten.” Lady Fulford rose from her chair. “Do you mind if I attend to my correspondence this morning? After all of our recent adventures, a quiet morning has been well-earned.”
“Your plan suits me well. I received a letter from my sister that I have not yet replied to. I thought I might retire to my room to write to her.” Elizabeth was mindful that Lord Fulford might return at any moment, and she did not want to see him when he did.
In her chamber, she sat at the elegant escritoire positioned near the tall sash window. Jane’s letter had been long and revealing. Shortly after Elizabeth’s departure, many of the Bennets’ acquaintances, apparently desperate for gossip and news of Elizabeth’s engagement, had begun to call upon her family. As Darcy had predicted, association with Lady Fulford and Lord and Lady Matlock meant that Elizabeth was looked upon as a figure of respectability rather than of notoriety. Their mother was revelling in the attention, but their father was less happy; he missed Elizabeth and spent long hours in his library, only appearing at meals. Mr Bingley was an increasingly frequent visitor. Elizabeth’s heart swelled with tenderness as she read her sister’s tentative enquiries about how best to capture the gentleman’s heart. From Jane’s letter, Elizabeth inferred that Mr Bingley was not entirely happy with Darcy and the secrecy surrounding Elizabeth and Darcy’s engagement.
I suppose he thinks Darcy fell in love with me whilst I was staying at Netherfield. Recalling Miss Bingley’s attentions towards Darcy, she wondered if Mr Bingley believed that Darcy had spurned his sister.
It was the last paragraph that she wished to read again. Lydia and Kitty were apparently enamoured by a new officer each day, and Jane wrote of her relief that the militia would soon be moving to Brighton. Mr Wickham was mentioned briefly; he had been paying attention to Mary King, a shy, plain-looking girl who had recently acquired a substantial inheritance.
Without wishing to be unkind, Elizabeth wondered if Mr Wickham’s motive in paying attention to the diffident, awkward Miss King was solely her fortune. She recalled his handsome face as he spoke of his ardent desire to marry for love. And I believed him! The incongruity of his anger at Darcy’s handling of his father’s will was more apparent now that she had spent more time in Darcy’s company. Darcy’s commitment to his uncle’s illegitimate son was at odds with his supposed betrayal of Mr Wickham and his father’s wishes. The Darcy she had come to know would never do so without good reason. Mr Wickham is not to be trusted, she thought, and returned to Jane’s letter. At the end, her sister had written,
I must tell you some troubling news regarding your previous acquaintance, Mr Bull. I did not inform you before, as you had so much to think of, but there have been alarming reports regarding his debts in Meryton. And, forgive me if this causes you pain, but I caught part of a conversation between Papa and Uncle Philips. There is concern regarding the interesting condition of a young maid in the lodgings where he stayed. How right you were to be cautious around him.
Elizabeth was shocked, and she sat, remembering every compliment he had given her, every story he told to garner her interest. He seemed so knowledgeable, and it flattered my vanity to have impressed a man of the world. He deceived me as much as he deceived everyone else. She squeezed her eyes shut, her throat closing as she recalled the weight of his body pinning her to the wall. Would she ever be free of this terrible memory? A heat prickled its way up her arms, wrapping around her chest as she recalled Darcy’s indignant expression as he came upon them, and then the way he had looked at her yesterday when he had kissed her hand. And to think I once disliked him! He who has been nothing but solicitous towards me. Will I ever be able to trust my own judgment again? Not wishing to dwell any longer on these morose thoughts, she opened her eyes, took out her pen and paper and set about attending to her letters.
She had been at her correspondence for about an hour when there was a knock at the door. A maid told her she was wanted in the drawing room, and Elizabeth made her way there. To her surprise, it was neither Darcy nor Lord Fulford—and there was no sign of Lady Fulford either. Instead, a man that she had never met before awaited her. Instantly, she suspected it was Viscount Thorpe; he had the same colouring as Lady Fulford and Colonel Fitzwilliam, although by the slices of silver in his hair, he was clearly older. He sat languidly on the chaise longue next to the fire, his ankles crossed, the gold on his shoe buckles glinting in the sunlight. His cheekbones and nose were sharply defined, and he was elegantly attired, yet he lacked a certain quality to truly be considered handsome. He did not inspire admiration in the same manner as Darcy.
He smiled when she entered the room, regarding her with cold amusement. He did not stand to greet her.
“So, you are the bold and beautiful Miss Bennet. You have my unending gratitude for ensuring I no longer have to endure long periods of my aunt’s company.”
Unsure of how best to reply to this, Elizabeth instead said evenly, “Forgive me, I have not had the honour of an introduction.”
“Nathaniel Fitzwilliam, Viscount Thorpe.”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Elizabeth said politely but not especially sincerely. “I cannot imagine where Lady Fulford is. I shall have a servant find her.” She did not want to be alone with him. Knowing of his friendship with Lord Fulford, she found his company unsettling.
“It is not necessary. I have met you, and my curiosity has been satisfied. I shall not trouble my sister by prolonging my visit.” Lord Thorpe stood and smoothed the wrinkles from his breeches.
“Is that all?” Elizabeth could not conceal her disapproval. “You wished simply to lay eyes on me?”
“Is it so strange that I should want to meet my new cousin?”
“But to leave before greeting your own sister!” Her surprise caused her to laugh. “I am astonished.”
“Upon my word, you do speak your mind freely for such a young slip of a thing.” His eyes wandered lazily over her body, lingering on her chest and hips. “Beautiful, bold, and spirited. Now I understand why Darcy finally decided to take a wife.”
Elizabeth was beginning to feel like a mouse trapped in a cat’s thrall. “I have never understood why age is a limit for one’s ability to express an opinion. I almost long for old age, when it seems one can say whatever they like.”
“I recommend that you enjoy your youth, Miss Bennet.” He took a step towards her, once again surveying her with undisguised interest. “You have been blessed with many charms, and now is the time to take advantage of them.” He bowed elegantly, and when he rose, there was an unpleasant gleam in his eye. “Please tell my sister that my dear friend Mrs Wilder will be in attendance at the theatre tomorrow night. There is to be no unpleasantness. Cecilia is to mind her tongue.”
Confounded by his message and manner, Elizabeth made no reply. She nodded, and Lord Thorpe left the room, loudly demanding his hat, coat, and carriage.