Chapter Eleven
The letter came under the cover of night.
A footman took possession and dispatched the missive above stairs to the chambers of the royal couple immediately.
The knock fell upon the door, and Darcy answered in a foul mood.
Who would dare rouse him out of his hard-won sleep?
He had a good right to be irritated and growled a demand of explanation at the disturbance.
“Master, this has just been delivered by express. Forgive the intrusion, but delivery seemed rather urgent.”
Darcy snatched the paper from the footman's hand and grumbled a rough thanks even as he closed the door. He drew back to the bedchamber, lit a candle, and sat down near the fire to read.
“What is it?” Elizabeth asked as she leaned over the top of his chair, her voice still sleepy. Her hand snaked down to his bare shoulder, and his arm curled up to lace his fingers through hers.
“A letter from Lord Bingley.”
“Lord Bingley? Whyever for?”
“I do not imagine I should know.” As soon as he released his wife's hand, Darcy broke the seal and commenced to read.
High Lord Darcy:
Dear sir, I regret to inform ye that the recent treaty we negotiated has not gone over well with several of our local lords.
I have been assigned the task of renegotiation, and I fear the diplomatic process must take place as soon as possible.
Pray expect a small party that will include myself and my sister, the Right Honourable Lady Caroline, within a fortnight.
With regards,
Lord Charles Bingley
“He could not have sent his letter by regular post? Lord, I thought some dreadful occurrence had taken place!” Elizabeth was not any more impressed with the disruption of their sleep than was he.
“It has. That treaty is vital. It was to allow safe passage of a large amount of gold through some treacherous territory. I wager the grouping of lords wants to renegotiate their protection price, which is unacceptable.”
“Then respond with a letter that says as much.”
“I cannot. That is the crux. The art of negotiation forbids me to refuse his offer to attempt.”
“Oh. This all sounds rather complicated.” Elizabeth paused, a thoughtful expression on her face as she came around the chair and helped herself to a seat on his lap. Her nose wrinkled. “Shall I be expected to entertain the Right Honourable Lady Caroline?”
The words might as well have been a punch in the stomach; the shock was so great.
The one person in the world who should be as far away as possible was expected as well, and he would have to leave her to his wife!
She was vengeful and capable and unpredictable.
His one hope was that he still had enough power to control her.
“Do you not like her?” asked Darcy.
“Oh, not at all. She seems to think very little of me and very well of herself.”
“She does tend to give people the impression that she is above them.”
“I never said she was above me. I said she thinks she is.”
He chuckled. “Very true.”
“Were you lovers?”
He started and levelled a look at her. “What?”
“You have known Lord Charles and his wretched sister for years, have you not? Other women knew your bed before we married. I would like to know if Lady Caroline was one of them.”
He had promised to tell the truth, but how does one admit to fucking the witch who cast the spell that brought about an unwanted marriage and caused months of anger and tumult?
“Yes.” Easier than he would have expected.
“She does not seem like a woman you would love.”
“I never loved her. You are the only one I have ever loved.”
“Jane?”
“That does not even compare.”
“And yet you sought pleasure in Lady Caroline's bed. Did she have affection for you?”
“I could not say. She was very discreet. Her brother would have called me out if he had known I had bedded her.”
“He thinks she is a virgin?”
Darcy nodded. Elizabeth smiled wickedly and leaned in to trail her tongue along Darcy's ear.
“What are you thinking, wife?”
“Oh, I am thinking on the possibility that I may have to entertain Lord Bingley if his sister does not behave.”
“You would have your guest call me out to defend his sister's virtue? Are you that eager to be rid of me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Lord Charles is hardly a marksman, William. And I doubt he can lift a sword.”
“You underestimate him.”
“Fine.” She pouted for a moment. “If you did not love her, why did you bed her?”
“My sweet, I am not comfortable with this subject.”
“I want to know.”
“I am a man. We fucked when the need arose, and Caroline was willing and available.”
“Oh.” She chewed at the inside of her lip.
“I have never just fucked you. Every time was important to me because I love you.”
“I know. Come, let us go back to bed and save our concern for the morning.”
“Concern for my past lovers or Charles's visit?”
“Darling husband, past lovers are of no concern to me. They are in the past and as long as they remain there, I am content to let them be.” She smirked. “As long as you leave my past lovers there too.”
“That is not even remotely humorous,” he muttered as he followed her back to bed.
“Really? Then why am I laughing?”
She giggled as he rolled on top of her and proceeded to become especially serious.
* * *
The fortnight passed in a trice and soon enough, Elizabeth and William received Lord Charles and the Right Honourable Lady Caroline in the Great Hall.
Elizabeth sat on her newly-arrived throne—a slightly smaller version of Darcy’s—and took in all the pomp and circumstance that accompanied the lord's arrival with interest. First, Lord Bingley’s steward was presented, then other minor members of his retinue.
Finally, the lord and his sister appeared, with Lady Caroline appearing more beautiful than Elizabeth remembered.
One glance at the woman and anyone with eyes could tell Lady Caroline had made special preparations in order to see her former lover again.
She still desired him and hoped her beauty would secure his interest. Her jet-coloured hair was mostly loose and tumbling down to her waist in thick curls, the sides pinned up with exquisite gold and emerald combs and her bottle green eyes glittered with resolve, but her lips were the coup de grace.
They were plump and blood red, subtly begging for one of William’s incredible kisses.
“Lord Charles Bingley and the Right Honourable Lady Caroline Bingley.”
The siblings stood before the dais; Lord Bingley bowed low as his sister delivered a perfect curtsey.
“Rise and welcome, Lord Bingley. Rise and welcome, Lady Caroline.” William stood and offered his hand to Bingley then kissed Caroline's. “Since we have last met, I have taken a wife. Allow me to present High Lady Elizabeth, Princess of Pemberley.”
“My allegiance, ma'am.” Bingley bowed.
Lady Caroline mimicked him with a quick, shallow curtsey, but her eyes were icy as Elizabeth offered salutations.
The party quit the Great Hall and went into an antechamber where they took a light repast and chose to hold off the business aspect of the trip until the next day when they were not weary from travel.
When the meal was finished, servants escorted the Bingleys to their rooms and Elizabeth pulled her husband aside.
“It needs to be said that the Right Honourable Lady Caroline still desires your company within her bed.”
“Surely not,” William said. He fiddled with his fork, obviously trying to ignore what they had both seen.
“You need to speak with her and assure her nothing of the sort will happen.”
“My sweet, you know I want no other but you.”
“And Lady Caroline needs to be aware of that as well. You may go speak with her now. I arranged for her rooms to be just far enough from Lord Bingley for you not to be seen.”
“She is nothing compared to you,” he whispered and dropped a kiss on her cheek.
“I know. Now go.” Elizabeth crossed her arms around her body in an attempt to shield herself from the sudden chill in the air and stared after him.
Her mind told her she had no concerns, that he loved her enough to never stray—but she was also apprehensive about the possibility that Lady Caroline was more persuasive than William's vows.
“Nonsense. He loves you,” she muttered as she tried to hush the uncertain voice in her head.
“He loves you and you love him. It is as simple as that.”
* * *
Darcy knocked softly on the door, which swung open easily upon his touch.
The room was scented with cherries and vanilla, which was Caroline's doing, he was certain. His stomach turned. Elizabeth preferred less intrusive scents. A year’s worth of beeswax candles were lit all over the room and there, on the bed in nothing but a thin shift, was Caroline.
A languid smile slipped over her lips. With a flick of her hand, the door closed behind Darcy.
“Hello, my prince.”
“Caroline, this is not going to work. I came here to tell you that.”
“Oh? Of course, you did. I came here to convince you otherwise. Give me what I want, or I shall tell that lovely little princess of yours about your dirty dealings.” Caroline trailed her delicate fingers over her collarbone seductively.
“You cannot possibly be threatening me, witch. Do you remember who assisted me with my sins?”
“Of course. Our desire for power is the one thing we shall always have in common, love.”
“Things have changed, Caroline. I am not the man I used to be.”
“She has made you weak,” the witch hissed. She lifted the hem of her shift, exposing long, lovely legs. “I shall remind you of your former self.”
“I recall who I was on a daily basis and regret the man who had a place in your bed. I am not weak. I am stronger than I ever have been, and my strength is because of my wife.”
“Your ill-gotten wife,” she reminded him.
“I am aware of that, witch,” he said with a growl. “I warn you. Make no trouble, and your brother will not find out about this and, therefore, will avoid a fatal duel.”
“You would not fight my brother if he called you out. He is your friend!”