Leave Her Wild

Chapter Seventeen

The news of Mr. Darcy’s recovery spread quickly through the house and even the neighborhood. Mary had dutifully sent messages to the Gardiners, to her parents, and to Mr. Ericks to announce during Sunday’s services.

Her father had written to say that Lydia had returned to Longbourn, in further disgrace, and Mr. Bennet had sent Kitty to stay with the Gardiners for the time being. He had agreed with Mary’s assessment of the situation regarding Mr. Darcy and Jane and Elizabeth.

“ You are quite correct, Mary ,” he had written, “ Jane’s temperament would drive a man of Mr. Darcy’s nature to Bedlam, while Elizabeth would keep him grounded and soften all his hard edges. The news you noted of Jane kissing Mr. Bingley will please your mother, though I shan’t share your secret quite yet, for, you see, I will know of Netherfield Park being let at last before my dear wife. It will frustrate her to be second again. You are to play matchmaker, my girl, and direct your sisters to the correct gentlemen. Do not forget to call on Kitty, for your sister will wish her share of the gossip, and your Uncle Gardiner is too closed mouth for either his wife or your sister to know any pleasure in that manner. I am proud of you, Mary ,” he had added at the end, along with a bit of encouragement, “ You must be our family’s will-o’-the-wisp .”

Later, when her sisters gathered for the midday meal, Mary informed them of Lydia’s return to Longbourn. “The military removed her from the junior officers’ quarters. According to Papa, they supposedly had to carry her out onto the street.”

Elizabeth said, “I may never return to Longbourn. Mama will always defend Lydia, and I do not believe I might stand by silently and permit it. Do we know what will happen with Mr. Wickham?”

“When he was here yesterday, Lord Lindale said something about how his father, the earl, meant to influence the case,” Mary shared.

“How do you learn so much?” Elizabeth asked with a squeeze of the back of Mary’s hand in mutual affection. Always, it had been Jane who was Elizabeth’s confidante, but Mary had proven herself a more valuable companion of late.

As was typical for Mary, she shrugged. “When one is common looking, people forget another is near to overhear conversations. They tend to talk before me without noticing that my countenance may be plain, but my intelligence is still quick.”

“I shan't hear such nonsense again, Mary Bennet,” Elizabeth ordered. “You are beautiful in every way.”

“I am not, but I love that you say so.” Mary waited until Mr. Thacker stepped politely into the servants’ passage before saying, “You two must settle this business with Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth thought to argue but held her objections when Jane said, “I agree with Mary.”

Elizabeth looked to her eldest sister. “You have promised to marry Mr. Darcy.”

“Yet, it is you who loves him,” Jane countered. “Mr. Darcy intimidates me. I feel quite inadequate around him, but you stand with him toe-to-toe. I much prefer Mr. Bingley. Charles has agreed to take Netherfield Park. I can remain in Hertfordshire and oversee our mother and father. I understand Pemberley has magnificent views and more than a few real mountains to climb.”

Elizabeth ignored the last part of her sister’s speech. Instead, she argued, “You would be required to deal with Lydia, for you know our mother will not keep her in order.”

“But she cannot stay there if Mr. Wickham is brought before a magistrate for attempted murder. Mr. Bingley and a few others witnessed Mr. Wickham’s attack,” Jane argued.

“Mr. Darcy cannot marry either of us,” Elizabeth argued as tears rushed to her eyes. “He lives. We have paid our debts to him. Could we not all return home? I miss Hertfordshire and Papa.”

“I must speak to Mr. Darcy first,” Jane stated firmly. “I must break our engagement. Make my refusal official.”

Elizabeth could stand no more of this talk of never seeing Mr. Darcy again; therefore, she stood suddenly. “I shall pack my few belongings and be prepared when you are, Jane.”

Darcy called, “Come!” when the knock arrived at his door. He had hoped it would be Miss Elizabeth, but he supposed Miss Jane Bennet was also someone with whom he should speak.

“I am happy to see you upright,” his betrothed said with a hint of a smile upon her lips. He supposed such was the woman’s way of handling what needed to be addressed.

Darcy brushed a bit of lint from his sleeve. “Mr. Sheffield is well worth what I pay him.” He straightened the line of his black satin dressing gown. “Yet, I am told even with a lack of color in my cheeks, I am a most welcomed sight.”

“Sounds like Miss Darcy’s worry has lessened,” Miss Bennet said.

“My sister says you were very good about explaining what to expect with my recovery,” Darcy responded.

“I simply told Miss Darcy that Elizabeth would not rest until you were on the mend,” Miss Bennet replied.

“Your sister is quite remarkable,” Darcy stated.

“Much more remarkable than am I,” Miss Bennet said with a small smile, the first genuine one Darcy had viewed upon her lips. “I came today to offer you my apologies,” the lady continued, and Darcy waited patiently for her to say the necessary words. “Actually, my family’s apologies. You are to be saddled with more than one scandal regarding Mr. Wickham.”

Darcy knew he frowned, but he could not hide his displeasure of everything involving Mr. Wickham. Moreover, he wondered if Miss Bennet was telling him she meant to hold him to his promise?

“I am equally grieved regarding the shame it will bring you,” he said dutifully. With a deep sigh of resignation, he suggested, “We may marry and retreat to Derbyshire as quickly as Mr. Rheem presents me with permission to travel.”

Oddly, now it was the lady who frowned. “There is something I must confess, Mr. Darcy. Afterwards, it will be I who must ask for forgiveness. As you likely suspect, I accepted your hand in marriage in order to save my mother and sisters, but . . .” She smiled then, and a slight giggle escaped. “You see, I was quite taken with Mr. Bingley, from the beginning of our acquaintance. Therefore, though it is selfish of me, I must do what is best required for each of us. I am asking you to release me from my obligation to you. I truly wish to marry Mr. Bingley, and you wish to marry . . .”

“Your sister, Elizabeth,” he said with a smile. “Has Bingley spoken his wishes?”

“Not in so many words, for he still values your friendship,” she claimed.

“Present him with my blessings,” Darcy instructed.

“You should know, Elizabeth is at this moment packing her belongings. If you mean to speak to her, you should do so sooner rather than later.”

“Will she come to me? I have not seen her for the last two days, not since I woke from my fever. If necessary, I will attempt to rise from this bed,” he told her.

“I shall think of something,” Miss Bennet assured. “You will do your best to make Elizabeth happy, will you not?”

Darcy smiled. “Has your sister told you that she and I danced once years ago when she came to London with your Grandmother Gardiner?”

“No, but Mary finally confessed when I was so worried about Elizabeth’s need to tend to you.”

“I was an . . . well, I should not say the word before a lady,” though he knew full well he had said it before Miss Elizabeth, but that particular lady was not cut from the same cloth as was her elder sister. Elizabeth Bennet was exemplary in Darcy’s opinion. “But Miss Elizabeth’s essence has never left me. Like it or not, and I assure you I did not much like it for many years, your sister is the model by which I evaluated all others I encountered.”

“I am glad you admitted your unfair behavior directed towards Elizabeth, and I pray it shan’t happen again. Your confession also explains why I would always have been second best in your estimation: Elizabeth was formed from a one-of-a-kind mold.” She curtsied then. “I must send Elizabeth to you and wait for Mr. Bingley’s arrival.”

Jane burst into Elizabeth’s quarters. “Come quick! Mr. Darcy’s fever is raging again! I did not know what to do!”

“It cannot be!” Elizabeth declared as she dropped a day dress over her head and tugged it in place. She fumbled with the laces. “Fix these!” she demanded. “How high was the fever?”

Jane quickly laced the strings. “I could not tell with any confidence.”

“Did you check his forehead? Surely, if you are to marry the man, you could touch his cheeks or his forehead, Jane. What will you do when your children are ill?” Elizabeth said with a sad shake of her head. Her hair was still down and her boots were sitting by the bed, with her only in her stocking feet, but she ignored both as she shoved her way past Jane, saying, “Tell Mr. Sheffield we will require more lavender water.”

She quickly dashed through the hallway, skirt’s hem hiked so as not to trip over it. Bursting through the open door, she was brought up short. “What?” She glanced back to the way she had come to find Jane and Mary closing the door to Mr. Darcy’s suite behind her. “You arranged all this?” she accused as she pointed a finger at Mr. Darcy.

“Actually, it was your sisters’ idea, but I did not object,” Mr. Darcy said with a smile.

“I should . . . I should . . .” she began. In her opinion, Mr. Darcy’s countenance still showed traces of the past sennight: Hollow eyes and a bit of sadness marked his expression, while bits of hope had sneaked past her guard.

He looked at her for a long moment. She had obviously withdrawn into the invisible armor of protection she often employed. “Should I bother to check your head for a fever, Mr. Darcy?” she demanded.

“I prefer when you call me ‘William,’” he corrected. “Whispering my name in my ear.” Something in his voice must have forced her eyes upon him, and Darcy claimed his moment. “Your sister has thrown me over for Mr. Bingley,” he began.

“He is more amiable than are you,” she declared.

“He would bore you, Elizabeth Bennet,” he countered. “You prefer a challenge.”

“And you do not?” she demanded.

“Obviously, I do. I prefer you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest in a protective stance. “Do you mean to profess your affection to all the Bennet sisters, Mr. Darcy?”

“No. I never professed my affection to Miss Bennet—I only promised her a bargain of equal weight,” he corrected.

“I always knew why Jane accepted your proposal, but I never understood why you were so intent on marrying so quickly,” she said as she stepped closer.

Darcy knew it was time for the truth. “I must have an heir by my thirtieth birthday or a distant cousin may claim a large portion of Pemberley land—the part we have been meticulously developing for years. It would set my plans for Pemberley’s future back by at least ten years.”

“So, I was correct, you required a vessel for your lust!” she declared in triumph.

“Yes, I required a wife and the time to bring her to child,” he admitted. “Even if she produced a daughter instead of a son, a court might rule in my favor.”

“And so now you mean to switch your ‘affection’ from Jane to me?” she asked in a betrayal of mixed emotions.

“You know such is not true. I have wanted you from the first time we met, but I knew at age fifteen you would falter as Pemberley’s mistress and pursuing you would destroy you. I was the worst sort of man that particular evening because I did not defend you to my cousin and the others. We met on my first foray into society after my year of mourning for my father. I was frightened to fill my father’s shoes, and you . . .”

“Could not fill your mother’s slippers?” she accused. “Why do you believe I could fill them now? Why should I consider your professions of affection this time?”

“From the start of our acquaintance at the ball, I was a bad bargain. Even you would admit I was a . . . a . . . stiff-necked, prideful, selfish wretch caught in my own beliefs,” he stated. “I was not able to offer you the tender emotions a young girl would require during such a daunting experience of becoming the mistress of an estate more than tenfold larger than is Longbourn. The recrimination you have previously presented to me is well deserved, for I have done more harm to you than I ever dreamed possible.”

“I never wished you harm,” she said with a grin, “except perhaps being drawn and quartered.”

“And I would well deserve it.” He reached a hand to her, and she thankfully accepted it, but she still kept a bit of distance between them. “If you should wish me to leave you and return to Derbyshire to spare you the pain of . . .”

“Oh no!” she exclaimed quickly, which was joyful to his heart, though she had moved no closer to him. She studied his features to know the truth of his words, as a myriad of emotions crossed his countenance. Finally, learning what she wanted to know, she began again, “It shall be torture, but, if you hold feelings for me at all . . . This is madness! Why cannot I simply walk away from you?” Elizabeth wished to be sangfroid, but her heart was beating wildly. She rolled her shoulders into place as if she prepared for war, but it was worse than war, for she must bare her soul to him if they were to go forward.

“When we first met, I developed what could only be termed as a ‘schoolgirl’s tendre ’ for you, one most would term as both frivolous and fleeting in nature, but, in truth, it was never that simple. In my mind, you became the standard by which I would be judged by others, as well as to judge other young men in their turn. I would ask not only why you never extended your approval to the likes of me, while knowing, deep down, you were correct. When another young gentleman approved too quickly, I would wonder why he was so easily pleased, and you were not? Why did he not see what was lacking as easily as had you?”

She swallowed hard and chose to be truthful. “Yet, the fact is I have been truly and deeply in love with you ever since I was old enough to understand what the word meant. It was always a mad and foolish thing to do, for my doing so could lead to nothing but heartache and pain, for I know . . .”

“You believe I do not love you?” he finished her denial with his own question. “It is a dashed bad thing when a man must attempt to woo one woman when it is her sister that stirs his blood. I felt those urges to possess you when we met years prior, just as I do now. I want nothing more than to take you into my arms and tell you that I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. Most ardently. I have actually loved you for some five years, but my damn pride has stood in the way. And I never wish to be parted from you from this day forward.”

He took a firmer grip on her hand and tugged her down to sit beside him to rest across his chest where he might finally kiss her. Soon Darcy found himself fisting her silky hair in his hands, as she fit so perfectly in his arms.

Finally coming up for air, he looked into her hazel eyes to say, “Elizabeth Bennet, I love you with all my heart. Please permit me to prove my devotion to you—only to you.”

A knock at the door finally brought them apart, as she quickly stood again and turned away to hide how swollen he had left her lips. Mr. Thacker cautiously opened the door to say, “Pardon, Mr. Darcy. Lord Matlock has arrived.”

Elizabeth reached for her hair, which was now draped across her shoulders. “The earl cannot view me as such. What will he think of me?”

“That you are perfectly beautiful,” Darcy declared. “Thacker, you should be the first to know that Miss Elizabeth has agreed to be your new mistress.”

“Excellent, sir. Darcy House will experience great happiness with this turn of events.”

“You may speak to your uncle,” she said as she backed away. “Alone.” She turned and darted away.

“Send Hannah to assist Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy ordered with a smile of satisfaction, for bedding Miss Elizabeth would be pure perfection, something to which to look forward and, most assuredly, without the dread he had experienced when he thought upon his future with Miss Bennet. “And direct my uncle to my quarters.” With a smile of satisfaction, Darcy used his good arm to straighten the bedding across his lap.

In less than a minute, his uncle was saying, “What the devil, Darcy? Has this household gone batty? Why must I learn of this business secondhand? And what is going on downstairs? A woman who introduced herself as ‘Miss Bennet’ was holding hands with that Bingley fellow with whom you sometimes were known to associate.”

“Good,” Darcy said in response. “All is good, Uncle. Great, even. The best my life has been in years. Have a seat. Would you care for a drink or tea, my lord?”

“Too early for a drink and I tire of tea,” Matlock grumbled before he gestured to Mr. Thacker to leave the room. His lordship sat heavily in a nearby chair that Georgiana had placed close so they might talk when she called upon him. “Now speak, boy. Start with your injury.”

“I was shot by Mr. Wickham a bit over a week back. Your son has located Wickham in Newcastle and placed him under arrest. As Fitzwilliam is currently attending to his general’s wishes, when I finish my report, if you hold no objections, I wish for you to take control of Mr. Wickham’s trial and make certain it has as little fanfare as possible. I would be forever appreciative for your interference in the matter. As Wickham is now a lieutenant in the Regulars, it will take the power of the earldom to see that my father’s godson knows justice.”

“Where is he being held?” his uncle asked with a nod of understanding.

“I was told at Middlesex.”

“And what do you wish for his disposition?” his uncle asked in equal seriousness.

“Truthfully, I wish him dead, but transportation with no hopes of return to the United Kingdom would be, not equally as satisfying, but acceptable, nonetheless,” Darcy stated. He appreciated how his uncle responded without a multitude of questions, but the one he asked went straight to the point.

“What detail do I not yet know? I do not relish the idea of being surprised by the likes of George Wickham when I call upon Middlesex.”

“Mr. Wickham’s lieutenancy arrived at the hands of Mr. Bennet and the Bennets’ uncle, Mr. Gardiner. After that matter with Georgiana, Mr. Wickham first joined the militia stationed in Meryton, where the Bennets live. According to the reports, he attempted to seduce a young lady who had inherited ten thousand pounds, but when that fell through, he turned his attention upon the youngest of Mr. Bennet’s daughters, Miss Lydia, who I have not met, but understand is quite bold and not of the same caliber as her sisters. I would suspect the girl is cut from the same cloth as her mother, who does not possess the same mental capacity and, perhaps, moral quality, as does Mr. Bennet. Since taking the gentleman’s acquaintance, I now understand why he does not come often to London.”

“What happens to ‘Mrs. Wickham’ if her husband is transported or hanged?” Matlock asked the obvious.

“I plan to ‘suggest’ that the girl go to live in Scotland for however long it takes to claim a Scottish divorce. She assuredly cannot go through life with George Wickham’s name. That is to say, if she is not so foolish as to follow Mr. Wickham to Australia. Of course, if he is hanged, then a divorce is not necessary, but she should be made to live elsewhere.”

“I will learn what I might and keep you informed,” his uncle assured.

“Now, what is this business with Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley?” the earl asked with a lift of his brows.

Darcy glanced at the still open door in anticipation of Elizabeth’s return, but it and the passage remained empty. “I followed the advice of all around me and pursued Miss Jane Bennet, who I was late in learning meant to save all her sisters by marrying me.”

“Makes sense now,” his uncle remarked.

“I reasoned it would have been a good match as her family required a dose of respectability, thanks to Mr. Wickham’s deception, and I required a bride to stifle Bertram Darcy’s aspirations. However, . . .”

“However?” his uncle asked, leaning closer in expectation of necessary secrecy.

“The woman is beautiful as you likely noted when you called today, but I would soon be slitting my wrists if I had to bed her regularly,” Darcy confessed in soft tones.

“Then you have released her?” his uncle said with a frown. “What of Bertram’s claim?”

Darcy smiled easily. “Only this morning I have asked Mr. Bennet’s second daughter to be my wife, and she has accepted.”

“Are you assured, Darcy? If you must settle, I know of several young ladies from good families . . .”

Darcy raised his hand to prevent his uncle’s offer. “Ironically, I have known Miss Elizabeth since exiting my mourning for my father, and even Fitzwilliam has admitted, if not for her small portion, he would propose to her himself, for she holds a grasp of both the perils and the pleasures of the landed gentry and the aristocracy that my father found in your sister and you have found in your countess.”

“I have not heard you speak so fondly of someone in a long time,” the earl observed.

A soft knock brought the return of the object of his affection. “Uncle,” Darcy said as the earl rose to his feet, “it is with great pleasure I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet, soon to be your new niece. Elizabeth, my uncle, the Earl of Matlock.”

The earl bowed and his Elizabeth curtsied. Matlock reached a hand to her and Elizabeth accepted it, though tentatively. “Welcome to the family, Miss Elizabeth. Now, what can you tell me of the wedding plans? My countess will wish all the on dits .”

Elizabeth frowned. “Mr. Darcy should be upright before the wedding, do you not think, my lord? The bullet went through him, and the exit wound nearly claimed his life.”

“Miss Elizabeth took over my care,” Darcy explained with a smile. “She single-handedly willed me back to health. It was at Elizabeth’s insistence that the local surgeon realized there was an infection around the wound in my back and it had spread. The army’s surgeon only called upon me once before he returned to his duties elsewhere. If not for her stubborn oversight, I could have died,” Darcy explained.

Tears came to Elizabeth’s eyes, and Darcy knew immediately that he had made the correct choice. “You will notice, my lord, how Miss Elizabeth is very much of the nature of Lady Matlock. My betrothed is fully in control when danger is near, only to display her true and softer self later. She has the same heart of gold as does her ladyship.”

“You realize, my dear,” the earl said, “life with Darcy will not always be comfortable, though you will have the best of everything.”

“I shall have all I require as Mr. Darcy’s wife—never a day exactly like the previous one—a husband who will protect our family—and, of course, your nephew’s promise of a home library like none other in England.”

Darcy barked a laugh. “She is a reader, Uncle.”

“I should have known,” Matlock declared as he enveloped Elizabeth in his arms in a true gesture of affection.