Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
W hen Elizabeth awoke the next morning, it was to the sound of childish laughter at her uncle’s house. Her removal from Curzon Street had been surprisingly easy. She had given Lady Fulford an excuse about her aunt needing assistance. The lie had rolled from her tongue with terrifying ease. From her expression, her friend had not wanted Elizabeth to leave, but she had understood—Elizabeth thought that perhaps Darcy had spoken to his cousin of her desire to be with her family—and she had arranged for a maid to swiftly pack Elizabeth’s belongings.
In the carriage on the way to Cheapside, Elizabeth had cried. Mostly, they were tears of relief. At last, she was free; free from the snide comments and remarks from members of the ton , the demeaning looks from Darcy’s family, from witnessing Lady Fulford’s unhappy situation, from the lies and the shame—and from Darcy and the overwhelming, confusing feelings he inspired within her. She knew that this escape was not permanent; sooner or later she would have to face the world again, but this time, at least, her family would be near.
At Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth had immediately found the comfort of her aunt’s warm embrace, and the love of her dear family. She had retired early and had the most restful sleep she could recall having in many weeks. In the dark stillness of her bedchamber, her thoughts turned to Darcy. With a lump in her throat, she relived their conversation in the Fulfords’ drawing room. When he had embraced her, she had felt safe and protected. And far too aware of him. Entering his arms, she had stepped into a dangerous world, one where desire ruled her senses and her heart was laid vulnerable and bare. It was all she could do not to surrender. Unbidden, Darcy’s observation, spoken a lifetime ago in her father’s study, returned to her. A rich man can weather storms a woman of lesser means cannot.
She murmured, “He has not suffered the consequences as I have. He will never understand the position I am in.”
There was a knock at the door, and a moment later, Mrs Gardiner’s round, friendly face appeared.
“Please excuse my tardiness,” Elizabeth said as she began to rise. “I had no intention of sleeping this late.”
“You must not apologise.” Mrs Gardiner sat beside her and stroked Elizabeth’s cheek. “I could see how tired you were the moment you arrived. Indeed, you were not at all the happy Lizzy I know so well. Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
It was all Elizabeth could do not to throw her arms around her kindly, motherly aunt and weep like a desolate child.
“I have made such a botched job of it all.” Taking a deep breath, she divulged everything, beginning with the first, fateful encounter with Darcy at the assembly in October. With each revelation, her aunt clicked her tongue in dismay and tightened her hold on her niece’s hand. Elizabeth kept a few secrets to herself, such as Mr Bull’s dreadful behaviour and Darcy’s kiss to her wrist in the shadowy corners of the theatre.
“Does your family know of your agreement?” Mrs Gardiner asked.
Elizabeth laughed bitterly. “Do you think Mama would permit me to refuse Mr Darcy unless another man, someone richer, was prepared to marry me? At the time, Mr Darcy’s suggestion seemed like the lesser of two evils. I could not agree to actually marry him. He was a stranger and only proposed out of a sense of honour.”
“I can see how your hand was forced,” her aunt replied. “But, Lizzy, why were these terrible things written about you in the first place?”
Elizabeth crossed her arms, pulling them close against her body. “I do not know. Mr Darcy never paid me any special attention. If anything, we did not like each other. When the first notice appeared, we were not yet friends.”
Though the announcement of our supposed engagement came after he had rescued me from Mr Bull’s unwanted advances, and my dislike for him had lessened considerably, she admitted to herself.
“Since then, we have done everything possible to make our union appear respectable. It is humiliating to have my virtue questioned publicly once again. Mr Darcy wrote to the editor to put a stop to this wickedness, but yesterday showed that it has had no effect.” A shiver passed through her. “How am I to walk about in society, knowing what others must think of me? I could not bear it any longer and wished to be with people who love me and would not judge me.”
“That is why you came here?” Mrs Gardiner gave her a sympathetic smile. “You have had such a dreadful time. I wish you had confided in me sooner. I knew something was amiss when I read of your engagement in the paper, but your father reassured us that it was a misunderstanding, that the Morning Gazette wanted to profit from your understanding with Mr Darcy.” She kissed Elizabeth’s cheek and stood. “I believe you need a good breakfast. Shall I speak to your uncle of what you told me?”
“Please do, but make it quite clear that Mr Darcy is not to be blamed for any of this. He offered me his protection when I needed it most, and he has been very considerate of my feelings.”
There was a tender look in Mrs Gardiner’s eyes that suggested she knew there was more to the tale than what Elizabeth was prepared to disclose.
“I already suspected as much. Your uncle received a letter from him last night, expressing his desire to meet with him at his earliest convenience. Mr Darcy’s address was very respectful.”
“When is he expected?” Elizabeth went to the mirror and regarded her haggard reflection with dismay.
“In about an hour. He will meet with your uncle first. You have time to make yourself pretty.”
An elderly servant escorted Darcy to Mr Gardiner’s office, and Darcy looked about, uncertain what to expect. For a man so habitually so in command of himself, so assured of his place in the world, this new position of insecurity was an unpleasant one. He wondered whether Elizabeth’s uncle had read the Morning Gazette . What if he refuses to allow me to speak to her?
Mr Gardiner’s study was small but elegant. His collection of books was neatly ordered in a fine mahogany bookcase. Indeed, from what Darcy had seen of the house, he was impressed; it was imbued with a quiet, understated elegance that was to his taste. He took a seat and awaited Elizabeth’s uncle. When the door opened, he rose to greet Mr Gardiner, but to his surprise, he was met by a small, knock-kneed boy with golden curls.
“You are not Papa,” the child said.
“No, I am not, but I expect he will arrive presently.” Darcy sat and regarded the boy with amusement.
The child nodded and crawled into a leather chair; his feet hardly reached the end of the seat. “What is your name?”
“I am Mr Darcy. Who are you?”
The boy would not tell him, inviting him to guess instead. Attempting to keep his expression serious, Darcy agreed to the challenge, asking to be given a clue. After being told the boy’s name began with an ‘e’, and suppressing his amusement, Darcy suggested Edward and Edwin, which were both wrong.
Before he could try again, the door opened, and a voice cried, “ Ernest! Remove yourself from my study.”
Darcy turned to see a broad-shouldered man he presumed was Mr Gardiner.
Ernest wriggled from the chair. “Yes, Papa.” To Darcy, he added, “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” The words ran together into a single long one, and Darcy imagined a nurse or parent drilling the phrase into him.
“The pleasure is mine, Master Gardiner.”
Ernest smiled broadly and rushed from the room.
“I apologise for my youngest child. His curiosity outweighs his sense of decorum.” Mr Gardiner took a seat opposite Darcy.
“He is delightful.”
“That is kind of you to say.” Mr Gardiner glanced at the door, presumably to ensure it was closed. “Now, if you do not mind, Mr Darcy, I shall speak plainly—what is this business with the newspaper? Lizzy told my wife of your plan. I wonder at you for suggesting it in the first place. There must have been a better way.” His tone was courteous, but his stare was direct, and Darcy recognised that Mr Gardiner was a very different sort of guardian to the lacklustre Mr Bennet.
“I offered to marry Miss Elizabeth, but she refused, as she may have mentioned. I had no other ideas that would protect her reputation and give me time to try to discover who was behind the scheme to injure both her and me.”
Mr Gardiner rubbed his hand across his jaw. “After this latest report, I do not believe you can continue with your plan to end your engagement. It would always have resulted in speculation, no matter how careful you were, and now Elizabeth’s good name has already suffered enough.”
Mouth suddenly dry, Darcy cleared his throat. “I agree. I have the greatest respect for your niece, and I would gladly marry her. My only reservation is that she does not wish to become my wife, and I would hate to force her into a lifetime of unhappiness.”
Once again, Mr Gardiner regarded him closely before saying, “You are right, of course. One does not want to coerce a woman into matrimony. But Lizzy is not built for unhappiness, and I am sure the two of you will find a way to have a successful marriage— if you both make the attempt. She has spoken favourably of you?—”
“She has?” Darcy interjected, unable to disguise his relief.
A smile twitched on Mr Gardiner’s lips. “She has. I trust you will understand why I insist my niece stay here. You may call on her, but I ask that you inform my wife or me of your intention to come beforehand and of anyone you would like to bring with you. There is a small park across the street. You may take Lizzy there to speak away from any children who might escape the nursery and decide to delight you with their company. A maid will accompany you.”
A chaperon was not necessary , Elizabeth thought . She linked her arm with Darcy’s as they crossed to the park, which was so close to the Gardiners’ home she was certain they could be seen from the upstairs windows.
She glanced at Darcy, worried by what she saw. Dark shadows circled his eyes, and he spoke little. Briefly, he gazed into the distance, lost in thought; other times he opened his mouth as though to say something but then stopped himself. They were not long into their walk when she gestured for Darcy to sit on a bench, sending a pleading glance to the maid, who suddenly became interested in a nearby holly bush. Darcy took his place next to her; his foot tapping restlessly. She did not like to see his demeanour so disturbed.
“Was my uncle angry?” she asked. “Did he say something to upset you? I cannot bear this silence.”
“He desires for us to be married.” Darcy cleared his throat and smoothed down the folds in his trousers.
Elizabeth gaped. She had expected to learn that her uncle had berated Darcy, not this!
“Everyone already believes we are engaged. I-I suppose I understand why it seems there is no other outcome, after the latest gossip.” She tried to catch his eye, and in a soft voice said, “Would it be so terrible?”
He looked at her, his expression earnest. “But is it what you want, Elizabeth? I would never force a woman to do anything against her will. Do you understand what I mean? I could not bear to be married to a woman who recoiled from me.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Or a woman who was only my wife because she believed there was no other choice.”
“It is true that I have been left with few alternatives, but if my husband is to be you, then I am glad of it.”
“You are?” His eyes searched hers; she did not know what he was looking for, but she hoped that he could hear how sincerely she meant her words.
“You have been very good to me, and-and I have come to esteem you.” Elizabeth watched for his response, wondering who he would have chosen for his wife, had her name not been linked with his. Unable to forget the guilt in his eyes after his kiss to her wrist, she realised then that she would not want him to shrink from her either.
He reached for her hand, and Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as his strong fingers wrapped around her own. “As I do you.” With a look of relief, he continued, “Lady Fortescue is having a party tonight. Do you remember her, that frightful woman from the park in Berkeley Square? She invited you and Cecilia. If your uncle permits it, I should very much like to escort you.”
“To show the world that the Morning Gazette ’s lies do not matter to us?”
“Because I believe you will find it diverting, and I would like to see you smile again. If our future is to be together, I wish it to be full of laughter and comfort.”
Her heart tugged at his gallantry. Our future together. “I should very much like to go with you Darcy.”
His careworn expression instantly vanished. “I am delighted to hear it, Elizabeth.”
Darcy slowly climbed the steps to his house, his body tired but his heart and mind racing as he returned from Cheapside. He had not abandoned hope that Elizabeth might one day come to care for him, but he was far from certain of her regard. She had not mentioned love, but she had spoken of esteem. And she had agreed to marry him without any hesitation. He was impatient to set a date but determined not to rush her.
He retired to his study for an hour or so, sorting through neglected correspondence. He still had a little time before the party this evening. With all that was happening, he probably should not attend, yet the draw of being close to Elizabeth was too great. His father once said that ‘love is a great tonic for all ills’, and for the first time in his life, Darcy understood what he had meant. The last of his letters was just completed when there was a knock at the door. It was a servant, bearing two notes. He recognised the hand of the first. It was from Mr Easton, one of Darcy’s own agents, and Darcy tore it open hoping it brought promising news. Unfortunately, his scheme to exchange money for information had been unsuccessful. No one had come to take the payment.
Darcy sank into a nearby chair. I am no closer to the scoundrels who are threatening Georgiana . He recalled there was a second note. This too, was written in a familiar hand, and a terrible, familiar foreboding clutched at his chest. Breaking the seal, he opened the letter to reveal two words: Non serviam. Fury raged through Darcy, and it took every bit of his self-control not to rip the paper into tiny pieces and cast them into the grate. Anxious to speak to Fitzwilliam, he stood swiftly and called for his carriage. He sensed he had one final chance to protect Georgiana, and there was no time to waste. He needed to get her away from London, immediately.