Chapter 30
Darcy poured himself another cup of coffee.
He had a terrible headache, due not only to the lack of sleep but also to the anger and frustration, from which he could not escape.
It was early morning but still dark, and he had just arrived home.
He was too tired to even go and change, simply slumped in the armchair.
A knock on the door drew his attention; somehow, even before his eyes proved it, his heart suspected it was Elizabeth.
She took only a step into the room, then waited. He stood up and stretched out his hand, inviting her in. He knew he should not be alone with her in the library, in darkness lit only by the fire and a few candles. But her presence comforted and calmed him, and he could not reject it.
“I am well aware that my presence at this early hour is improper,” she whispered, as though guessing his thoughts. “I promise I shall not stay long. I only came to see how you are.”
“Miss Bennet, then please stay. I most certainly do not wish you to leave.”
His voice, tinged with tiredness and melancholy, reached her. Her countenance momentarily betrayed her unease at hearing him sounding rather defeated. She deliberated for a moment and ultimately resolved to occupy the seat across from his desk, waiting for his next words.
“You woke up early,” he said.
“I slept little. I waited to… I saw your carriage through the window and came to enquire…”
She seemed embarrassed, and he felt a thrill of joy imagining she had been waiting for him, looking out of the window.
“I am sorry you were distressed. Would you like some coffee, Miss Bennet?”
“No, thank you, sir. I want to know…do you have tidings? Did you find them?”
“Yes, I found them. It was not even much trouble.”
“Truly? Does Mary’s uncle know? And Colonel Forster?”
“I sent a man to search for them last evening. They should be on their way back to London by now.”
“How fortunate for them to have your assistance! Without you, they would not have been found in time.”
“Sadly, it does not even matter. Mary King, who is of age, refused to hear any reason. She is determined to marry Wickham, regardless of his faults and his debts.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand.
“Poor, silly Mary! I have known her since she was a child. I did not expect her to be so na?ve and allow herself to be so easily deceived. He will marry her only for her dowry, and she will be miserable for the rest of her life. How can she not see it? Could she have been blinded to the truth by her love for such a man?”
Darcy sipped the last of his coffee. “Love may cause blindness, I suppose,” he replied hoarsely, glancing at her.
“However, I do not think that is the case. I spoke to Miss King privately and tried to convince her to return to her family. I told her he was a deceptive man with significant flaws of character who would do anything for a comfortable life. I told her that he had previously attempted to elope with other women of means.”
“And?” Elizabeth asked.
“She said she suspected as much. She said she knows she is not a handsome woman and has little to recommend her except her fortune. That she would never be able to marry better than Wickham and expected to be considered a spinster soon. She is determined not to lose the opportunity to enjoy herself.”
With each word, he became more uncomfortable, while Elizabeth blushed in mortification.
“She said that? Mary King? I can hardly believe it.”
“You can imagine my surprise. It is not the sort of statement one would expect from a young woman in peril. However, she was determined to stay with him. I could not take her away her until her relatives returned. I felt she was fully aware of her actions and the consequences of them. She even mentioned that nobody could change her decision.”
“This is quite a shock,” Elizabeth replied. “Not only the elopement but her behaviour too.”
“I saw that nothing could be done. As a last resort, I mentioned his debts that I have purchased and that I could throw him in jail. She begged me not to do that. She said she would purchase them from me, but she cannot afford such a sum since she will have to cover his present debts. Any help I offered, she seemed to have a reason to reject. Undoubtedly, it was not a sudden elopement. She had thought of it for some time.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in disbelief.
He poured himself another cup of coffee and she gasped, stretching her hand over the desk to touch his.
“You are hurt!” she exclaimed.
He shivered, not from the pain but from the overwhelming thrill of her tender touch.
“It is nothing, really. Only the consequence of my private conversation with Wickham…”
She stared at him; their eyes locked. A little embarrassed smile appeared on his lips; only hours ago he was wondering whether to tell her. And now they were talking, unrestrained, alone, her tentative fingers touching the back of his hand.
“As I said, I did not act like a gentleman, and I have not accomplished much except for locating them. I allowed Wickham to aggravate me, and I lost control. I am not proud of myself.”
“Well, I am,” she replied, much to his surprise.
“And judging by your hand, I dare say you accomplished something important during your private conversation. I know a lady should not agree with fighting, and I know you do not need my approval, but you have it nevertheless,” she ended with a teasing smile, which widened his too.
Without much consideration, he covered her hand with his other one.
“You are wrong, Miss Bennet. Your approval means everything to me,” he said hoarsely.
Silence fell over them as they sat in the dark library with the fire burning, two candles lightening their faces, and her hand imprisoned between his. Her fingers moved gently, brushing against his bruise, but she did not withdraw them.
The sound of the door opening startled them. Each pulled back, increasing the distance that separated them. From the door, Georgiana looked at them, stepping inside hesitantly.
“Oh, please forgive me for interrupting! I could not sleep. I heard you had returned.”
“Do not worry, my dear. Please come in,” Darcy invited her, offering her a chair next to Elizabeth, who was flushed from embarrassment.
“I was just telling Miss Bennet what happened. Please take a seat. I shall order some refreshments, so we can speak at length.”
She sat, looking at Elizabeth. “I am sorry I retired so early last night. I was a little distressed,” Georgiana whispered. “You look tired, Lizzy.”
“I am perfectly well, dearest. Except I have not slept at all.”
“You both should rest,” Darcy said protectively. “I am afraid there will be quite a lot of upheaval in the house today. I am expecting Mary King’s relatives to arrive.”
For the next half an hour, Darcy repeated parts of his story for his sister’s benefit, avoiding the details about Mary King’s statement, which were unsuitable for a young lady like Georgiana.
To Elizabeth, he could open his heart; he felt like she was his equal in understanding and judgment, even in her belief that it had not been wrong for him to punch Wickham.
With her, he could be completely honest. He was speaking to his sister, yet the thrill of Elizabeth’s touch was still stirring him inside.
Such a deep sensation from a brief touch he had never felt before, nor had he ever imagined it.
Before noon, the search party finally arrived, and Darcy offered them food and drink, which they refused with thanks, as they were all in a hurry to retrieve Mary. Darcy chose not to reveal his conversation with the young woman, except for mentioning that she had refused to join him at his house.
Colonel Forster was enraged and threatened to punish the culprit.
The uncle still held hopes that Mary would return home — something that Darcy knew to be unlikely, but he could not shatter the man’s hopes.
He accompanied the men to the location where they would find the two fugitives and would likely face a hurtful disappointment.
***
Elizabeth spent some time with Georgiana, to be sure the girl was not too affected by recent events.
Surprisingly, Georgiana showed strength and calmness.
She admitted to being hurt, disappointed, and sad, but she felt even worse for Mary King, whom she considered a victim of Mr Wickham.
Since they were both tired, each retired to their rooms, as Mr Darcy had suggested.
Despite lying in her bed, Elizabeth found little rest. Neither her body nor her mind could find peace with the stirring sensation she felt inside her.
Her last interlude with Mr Darcy, alone in the library, had been different from the others in a gratifying yet perturbing way.
Unlike in the past, when he had insisted on propriety, this time he had invited her to stay.
He had opened his heart to her and related to her much more than he had later told Georgiana.
And then his hand covering hers had been such a delightful feeling that her heart still raced at its recollection.
They had been once again interrupted, but she did not regret it.
Georgiana seemed so perfectly suited to be with them, on any occasion, that her presence was always a blessing.
When silence returned to the house, Elizabeth fell asleep, still wearing her day clothes, defeated by the previous night’s tiredness.
She was startled later on by the sound of shouting, and she jumped from her bed.
She only had time to take a quick look in the mirror and brush her fingers through her hair before she hurried downstairs.
In the hall stood a lady she had never seen before — a tall, large woman, wearing an elegant gown, carrying a cane, and displaying an air that suggested anything but amiability. Her self-importance was apparent, and her features — which might once have been handsome — were twisted in a frown.