Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth was not reading the book in her hand when Colonel Fitzwilliam returned.
She and Aunt Matlock were sitting in a smaller parlor, one more suited to family parties than the drawing room they had inhabited earlier.
She glanced up and set her book aside, watching the colonel’s expression tighten as he realized the men had gone.
“Where is Darcy?” he asked after he had greeted them both.
There were voices in the hall. “That must be them now,” Aunt Matlock said.
The colonel leveled an irate glare at Mr. Darcy, but he only shook his head slightly in response.
Aunt Matlock sighed. “Let us hear it then, Richard.”
Elizabeth met Mr. Darcy’s gaze with a questioning look, not knowing to whom his aunt referred. Mr. Darcy inclined his head towards the colonel.
The colonel said nothing, only lifted his eyebrows.
He and Mr. Darcy then appeared to have an entire conversation between them.
There were arched eyebrows, a slight shrug, a frown—but no words.
Perhaps this was why her betrothed was such a quiet man.
He had no need to speak. The idea was amusing, but whatever it was that they were conveying to one another was not.
They were both irritated. So was Aunt Matlock who finally asked, with some impatience, “Well?”
“You were right to tell me not to return home with you, Fitz,” Mr. Darcy said. “But Henry was also right to drag me to the club.”
The viscount—Henry—smirked at both men and removed a small silver item from his pocket to admire. A toothpick case, from the looks of it.
“What happened?” the colonel asked.
“Fitz,” Mr. Darcy murmured, “not here.”
“Why not here?” Elizabeth inquired. “We are to be wed, sir. I should be included in important matters.” She nearly bit her tongue. She had not meant to chastise him in front of others. Strangely, he appeared more charmed than annoyed.
Henry laughed. Oh, it was strange to think of a viscount by his Christian name.
“And this is why I shall never wed,” Henry declared, waving a hand between Mr. Darcy and herself.
“You do not mean that,” Aunt Matlock reproved.
“Oh, but I do,” was Henry’s firm reply.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth addressed him firmly, before the conversation spun entirely out of control, “I wish to know your thoughts. What is it that you have to say?”
Her intended shook his head and addressed both her and the colonel. “The club was crowded. Henry had me write the date of our marriage in the betting books, and I offered a toast to my lovely bride.” He glanced at the colonel. “Then I saw Howard.”
Elizabeth sat heavily. “I do not know which of those statements to examine first,” she told him.
The colonel’s expression hardened. “Howard was there?”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “Henry kept me from engaging with him, but his reaction to my toast was . . . he was incensed.”
“Henry was right to stop you, Darcy,” the colonel said roughly. “Of course, you ought not have been there at all.”
Henry was nonplussed. “We know more now than we did before. Howard’s reaction is telling.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head. “I could have told you as much without the risk.”
“He needed to be seen celebrating his marriage, brother,” Henry replied calmly. “Now, tell us what you learned.”
The colonel rubbed a hand across his face. “The fair man’s name is James Baker. He did eventually confess that Howard hired him and Henderson.”
“To do what, precisely?” Aunt Matlock asked before Elizabeth could form the words.
“To punish Darcy,” the colonel said evasively. “He said Howard did not much care how.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes darkened. “What of Elizabeth?”
The colonel’s eyes met Elizabeth’s, his gaze sympathetic and reluctant.
“Go on, son,” the countess said. “We should know.”
He cleared his throat before saying, “I shall not repeat his exact words. In short, Miss Elizabeth spoiled the compromise. When it appeared that Darcy had gone. . .”
When the colonel faltered, Henry finished the thought. “They thought to make it look as though Darcy was fleeing something worse than Miss Bingley’s hand.”
Elizabeth felt ill.
The colonel nodded. “They were directed to connect the two of you in some sordid manner. Howard left the details to them, we think.” He frowned.
“We have had them both arrested for trespass and burglary. They were persistent because they have not yet been paid. Unfortunately that also means there is no bank draft, no convenient letter of instruction written in his hand, nothing but the word of a man no one will believe over Howard.”
“What of Henderson?” Mr. Darcy asked.
The colonel crossed his arms across his chest. “Baker is definitely the weaker of the two. Henderson believes he cannot even be identified. With his coloring and the mark near his eye, Baker has no such illusions.”
They were speaking in circles, their anger making them frustrated with the lack of progress. “Pardon me, gentlemen,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“My apologies, Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said at once. “I have not even greeted you properly.” He approached her to take her hands and frowned. “Where is your splint?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Upstairs. We had visitors.”
“She has not held anything heavier than a conversation,” Aunt Matlock told Mr. Darcy. He did not say anything to his aunt, but Elizabeth was certain he would have something to say to her. Mr. Darcy never seemed to relinquish any topic that even slightly concerned him.
Elizabeth returned to the matter at hand. “I believe we are at an impasse until we learn why Mr. Howard is so angry with you. Is it that he blames you for the rumors? It cannot only be your refusal to wed his sister when you have never met her.”
“May I suggest a course of action?” Aunt Matlock asked.
“Of course,” Mr. Darcy said, and all three men turned to listen.
“William, marry Elizabeth tomorrow,” Aunt Matlock said. “Allow the rest of us to work on your behalf.” She held out her hand, and Mr. Darcy stepped forward to take it.
Henry and the colonel nodded their assent. She was used to the colonel’s stern looks and Henry appeared composed, though she thought his smile perhaps a little too bright.
Without warning, the door was tossed open to reveal the earl. “Why are all the doors in my house shut today?”
“Whimsy,” Henry said, as the colonel slid behind his father to check the hall and close the door behind him.
“William, take Elizabeth up to the music room and ask Georgiana to play for you,” Aunt Matlock instructed. Mr. Darcy appeared uneasy, but he nodded and offered Elizabeth his arm.
“Here now,” the earl exclaimed, taking them all in before glancing over his shoulder at the closed door. “What are you plotting, my dear?”
Aunt Matlock waved them off, and Mr. Darcy placed his hand over Elizabeth’s. “Shall we?” he asked, and Elizabeth leaned against him briefly before they began to walk.
As they exited the room, she heard the earl ask, “Howard, eh?”
Darcy tried to shake the sense of foreboding he had carried since seeing Howard at the club. Elizabeth had leaned against him in the drawing room, and though they were both very properly attired, the warmth of her body against his felt like a promise.
In spite of Henry’s pronouncement at the club, Darcy was no prude. He was, however, a careful man, one who was hours away from reaping the rewards of his restraint. The closer the time came, the more difficult it was to remain a gentleman, but he would do so for Elizabeth’s sake.
She glanced up at him shyly, and Darcy could not help but respond with a smile.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I am thinking of you,” he replied, surprised at how easily the admission came.
“I am thinking of being married to you.” He admired the faint tint of her blush and the way she tipped her head away bashfully.
He enjoyed her pert rejoinders and teasing wit, but her sudden modesty at moments such as this further endeared her to him.
It was a sort of vulnerability that was for him alone, and he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers.
His heart raced when their lips met, and he lingered just a moment before slowly pulling away. Elizabeth’s eyes were closed.
“Mmm,” she said dreamily. “Is it terribly wrong of me to be happy we will be wed in haste? I would not wish to wait for the two or three months my mother would certainly insist upon.”
“Elizabeth, no man who loves his intended wishes to wait,” Darcy informed her and laughed quietly. “It is why so many women are already expecting on their wedding day.”
Her mouth dropped open a bit, and he wanted to kiss her again. He did not. The two of them were standing in the hall, and they had already managed to escape discovery once. The way his luck was running of late, he would not risk it.
Elizabeth’s face was very red, and he chuckled again. “You did insist on knowing my thoughts. Perhaps I should refrain from telling you everything.”
She laughed at herself. “I may be shocked occasionally, William, but I would rather know. I have a tendency to think the worst if I do not.”
“Yes,” he told her fondly. “I am aware. Fortunately, I am practiced at saying things I should not.” His gaze fell upon her arm, and he frowned. “Let us retrieve your splint.”
“Can we not send a maid for that?” she asked. “I do not think your aunt would appreciate you entering my chambers.”
He sighed. “We will be wed in less than a day, Elizabeth.”
“Precisely,” she said, her eyes alight with mischief. “We will not be wed until tomorrow.”
Darcy badly wanted to kiss her again. Not just her mouth, but the creamy skin of her neck and her shoulder and . . . Yes. Perhaps Elizabeth was correct.
“Very well,” he said, and reached for the pull. When a young maid arrived, he gave her orders and she hurried away.
They were close to the music room now. Georgiana was playing something by Haydn on the pianoforte. It was in a major key, a relief from the ponderous, melancholy music she had been playing since the summer.