Chapter 32 #2
“Off we went to Eton, and it was there that George’s schoolboy pranks took a more serious turn.
He began to cheat on examinations, steal from the other boys, and as we grew older, dally with the serving girls and the maids from the village.
I covered for him many, many times to keep him from trouble and from being expelled. ”
“Why?”
Darcy grimaced before replying. “I wanted him to like me. I wanted to be indispensable to him. Everyone liked him, and my connexion to him brought me some measure of acceptance at school. Although other boys would be friendly towards me, it was mainly because their parents told them to seek the connexion. They did not truly like me. I was serious and shy, and most of them thought I was arrogant and proud because of it. But if George was invited to be one of a party, then I would be too.”
“And your father never knew?”
“I do not know,” Darcy replied. “I think he might have had some notion, but his sympathy for George outweighed such concerns. And my father believed I needed him.”
“What changed things between you?”
“Things changed for me at university. I made some other friends, gentlemen more like myself, and that opened my eyes to the fact that Wickham had really become quite dissolute. The true break came when my father died. I believe I have already told you of that.”
“The issue with his legacy?”
Darcy nodded. “He was paid a fair sum as an equivalence for the living my father had set aside for him—three thousand pounds in addition to one thousand from my father’s will.
When that was run out, he wanted the living anyway and expected me to hand it over without question.
My refusal was a shock to him, but I knew his true character then and did not yield, no matter how much abuse he heaped upon me. He vowed he would get his revenge.
“His first strike at me came in the spring before I met you, in ’11. There was a young lady involved…I might have told you this story before?”
“A romantic attachment?” Elizabeth asked, in a gentle tease.
Darcy shrugged, feeling himself flush. “I liked her, but it had not gone beyond a few dances here or there. In any case, Wickham seduced her. Ruined her, in fact.”
Elizabeth inhaled sharply. “Poor girl. I do remember you telling me this but not how it turned out.”
Darcy nodded. “Her future was finished for one night with a handsome liar. She was sent to live in an aunt somewhere—in truth I know not what came of her since. But I did not love her, not nearly. I had never really loved anyone before, not until one night in an assembly room in a little village in Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth blushed and looked down at her lap.
“I had never felt anything as I felt that night, and truthfully, it frightened me how much I needed and desired you. I had never before considered myself a man who acted on impulse, yet I could not help myself. I was madly in love and exhilarated and scared because of it. I shall admit, there was part of me that believed I should marry you as quickly as possible before he found out about you, but mostly I just thought about how much I truly loved you.”
Elizabeth sat quietly absorbing it all. “Given such a history, I suppose I can see why this tale that was concocted of Wickham being my lover…well, it does seem to fit into his pattern, does it not?”
“It did,” Darcy acknowledged. “And the pain of it obscured my rational thought. I was angry with myself, him, you… My mind was filled with images of you and him conspiring against me.”
“I should have thought it was quite clear on our wedding night that I was a maiden. Did you not think of that?”
Darcy looked to the side, fiddling with his watch fob. “George often said that he knew of things…ways for a lady to remain a maiden yet…not.”
Elizabeth seemed to ponder that for moment before her mouth wrinkled into a frown of distaste. “I am not sure I can imagine what he must mean, but likely, I am better off not knowing. I begin to see why you grew so cold, so disdainful of me.”
Darcy had lowered his head to gaze at the carpet beneath him.
“There can be no just cause for the way I treated you. But every time I saw you, it was as if a hot brand went into my heart. I was in constant agony—you must not mistake what you saw for what I truly felt. I was in turmoil, every minute of every day.”
Given his study of the rug, it was a surprise to feel her lean close. Still more shocking was the kiss she placed on the side of his mouth. He restrained himself as much as he could but then turned to her, placing one hand behind her head as he deepened their kiss.
Elizabeth could not have accounted for the impulse that drove her to kiss him. It was not mere compassion, though that was surely part of it. His story stirred within her the love she had for him, then and now.
It felt good and right to be on his lap, to feel connected with him in this chaste, fully-clothed way, but she recognised too soon how much more she wanted from him. The thought made her pull back. She was not yet ready to abandon her quest for information.
With a final quick kiss, she slid away from him and asked, “Why did you not help me into the carriage?”
Darcy appeared dazed for a moment, then sat up straight and ran his hand though his hair. “Uh…help you into the carriage?”
“That scene has tormented me,” she admitted. “On the day I left for Yorkshire, you just stood there staring at me while the footman assisted me into the carriage.”
“Oh. Yes.” Darcy sighed. “I knew that had I touched you, even briefly, I would grab hold of you and pull you tight. I knew I could never let you go. You were so dignified. Part of me almost wished you would kick and scream and refuse to go so I could keep you.”
“When I was gone, were you relieved?”
“No, it was much worse. I ached with your absence, and the house seemed doused in sorrow. I hardly knew what day it was, what time…it was madness.”
He went on to tell her more about the time she was gone, about learning the truth from Wickham, and his horror when he comprehended that Georgiana had lied and Miss Bingley had played her cruel trick.
She had already seen his investigative efforts, so her next question was simply, “Did you believe I died?”
“No,” he said firmly. “Perhaps it was fanciful, but I always thought I would feel it if you had died, as if a part of myself would go dead as well.”
They sat for a moment in silence, contemplating all that had been said. At length, he asked, “And you? Will you tell me about your side of it all?”
With a smile, Elizabeth said, “Yes, I think I can if…”
“If…?”
“Will you kiss me again before I do?”