Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth held the letter in her lap and fought tears, some angry and some sad. She read through the letter for the third time and wished she had never received it.
Dearest Liza:
All has been ill since you were dragged into hell by that black-hearted monster.
I have spent many nights drowning in a tankard of ale instead of sleeping with ye in my arms as it should have been, but that is over and done.
I have realized that he will not return ye to thy rightful place and I must therefore fight him for thy release.
Thy father is ill and frets over his sins against us.
We have made amends, and he has demonstrated the depth of his regret well beyond what would have been sufficient.
He begs me to retrieve ye and bring ye home.
He no longer cares for Longbourn and has stated that all that matters is thy happiness.
He harbours the belief that ye no longer care for him since he has not received any words since thy departure.
I know, however, that it is the blaggard who keeps ye from us. It is his iron will that hides ye away. He forbids ye contact with those who would see ye free and happy, but not for much longer. His day of reckoning draws perilously near.
Do ye remember that day on Bishop's Hill?
I wanted to build us such a very grand life.
It would have been simple, but we would have woven each day with wonder and joy.
I believe we can still have our dreams. Our destiny is to walk through this life together.
Lord Darcy is nothing more than an unintentional obstacle.
He shall see the error of his interference. I promise ye that.
I love ye, Liza. I always shall. My days are long and empty without ye and my nights, when I am not nursing my wounds with spirits, are filled with terrible visions of how ye are being abused by his lordship.
He has soiled ye and convinced ye that ye are unworthy of my love still, but that shall never be.
His sins are not thy sins and I shall still consider thy body untouched when our own wedding night comes to pass.
Dearest Liza, there will never be a woman to replace ye. If I cannot be with ye, then I shall not be with another.
I am coming for ye, my dearest, loveliest Liza. Until then take comfort in my unyielding love.
Your Bonny George
Surely George did not intend to come for her!
He was a shepherd, not a warrior. He was not, from the information garnered, even fit to shine a sword, let alone lift it to smite another man.
She sighed. She had won her husband's love and loved him in return, even if he did not yet know it, and now her former sweetheart was hell-bent on revenge.
Any fight between them could only end badly, and with George fuelled by rage, Elizabeth was unsure as to whom the so-called victory would go.
The thought did not ease her worries in the least.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stood, smoothed her gown, and proceeded to the Hall.
It was late morning, and Elizabeth had not heard from William since they had left their chambers, which meant he was probably still in talks with Lord Bingley.
Lately, he had taken to sending her short love notes he had written during breaks, but she had not received one today.
They were sweet and personal; nothing like George's menacing letter.
In the Hall, courtiers were scattered about like corn strewn for the chickens in the yard.
They discussed business or gossiped in hushed tones, cast conspiratorial glances amongst one another, and made themselves more important than their positions deserved.
William was nowhere to be seen. His steward, though, was at a table in conversation with Lord Keller.
“My lady.” Henry Drake stood and bowed. Lord Keller followed suit. “How may I be of service?”
“I have an urgent matter to discuss with my husband. Is he in the antechamber with Lord Bingley?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Pray, would you inform him that I shall be in my study?”
Drake nodded. Elizabeth thanked him and made her way towards the closest door, which led to the room in which the High Lady attended her private business affairs.
After she sat at her desk, she glanced over the letter once again.
For certain, George's hand was upon the sheet, but in no way could he have afforded the luxury of such expensive paper.
The one reasonable answer was that Caroline had persuaded him to write the letter when he had called upon her.
Elizabeth frowned at the words once again, suspecting the so-called honourable lady to have influenced George's expressions as well.
“My sweet? You needed me?”
Elizabeth looked up and gulped a steadying lungful of air.
She nodded and pushed the letter towards him as if it possessed a deadly venom.
“That vicious bitch placed this in my hands today. She pretended she was performing a noble office, but I am cleverer than she credits me for. I honestly believe she influenced George somehow since he is not aggressive in the least, but she is a woman who has been tossed over, which makes her volatile and capable of much harm.”
* * *
With a hesitant look towards his wife, Darcy grasped the sheet and perused it.
The words were angry, and his stomach turned when he read that George would pretend his wife had not lain with him.
His body shook with rage at the thought of the scheming witch's influence.
Elizabeth had no way of knowing the true power of Caroline's influence, but Darcy was all too aware.
His foe would be more powerful with the witch manipulating outcomes.
“You do not think him capable of carrying out his plan, do you?” Darcy asked, tossing the letter to her desk as if it were poison.
“I do not know. The man who wrote that letter is not the man I loved. I have not encountered this not-so-bonny George. It concerns me that I cannot know what he can or will do.”
“He is obviously planning to call me out.”
“You cannot fight him!” Elizabeth cried.
Darcy's eyes narrowed. “If I am forced to defend myself, I shall, wife.” His voice was cool.
“Speak not to me like that, husband,” Elizabeth snapped. “I am only thinking of George's safety. He is but a shepherd and has not seen a single battle, unlike you. He would be a fool to call you out, but you would be cruel to answer that call. You are not so cruel.”
“You forget who I am,” he whispered.
She came around the desk, pulling his face to hers. “No, sir. I recall exactly who you are. You are the good man I have come to know these last months. You are not the heartless bastard I once thought you to be. Do not pretend as though you are.”
“He means to steal you away from me. He knows what it is to live without you, and he plans to exact the same fate upon me.”
Elizabeth shook her head and kissed his forehead. “You need to confront that vile woman about this letter. I have not a shred of doubt she played a part in its conception and language. Lady Caroline is the one who plots to separate us. I shall be damned if I let her own a victory over me.”
Darcy's fingers skimmed Elizabeth's cheek then grasped her hand for a few precious moments.
She smiled at him, warmth and affection shining in her eyes for a few moments before she ushered him from the room.
Forgetting Lord Bingley entirely, Darcy sought Caroline out.
His temper had boiled over by the time he found her.
“What is the meaning of the letter you gave my wife?”
“You are an astute man, my lord. Must I explain such a simple scheme to you? Your precious Elizabeth has maintained contact with her dear George, and they are plotting her escape.”
“And why would you allow yourself to be caught in this treasonous position, Caroline? What is in it for you?”
“Why the position of High Lady, of course. What better way to reward my loyalty to you than by bringing the plot against you to light?”
“You are unbelievable.”
“So you have told me many times while I laid beneath you.”
“I know Elizabeth has not continued correspondence with George.”
“Do you? Think about how she loathed you, Darcy. Think about her protests and her anger with her father. Think about the night she ran off with Wickham. Is it not possible they set a plan into motion to bring about your downfall? Wickham comes to call you out and kills you. Your widow, without an heir and secure in her position, remarries the love of her life, and all is how she wanted her life from the beginning, but for the lovely new manner of living you provided her.”
“Nay. She cares for me.”
“She does not, and we both know it. You are blind with love for her, and she depends upon your devotion for her schemes, for a blind man cannot see what is plainly in front of him. She has been your wife in all things, but she has never uttered that particular phrase to you, has she?”
He stumbled backward as though he had been struck.
Caroline's words made sense—but, no, it could not be.
Elizabeth's looks had every appearance of strong admiration.
She could not have feigned all the warmth between them, but was it simply warmth?
She, of course, did not love him, but he had not expected such a change yet.
He had wanted her because he had craved the lover she had potential to become.
Could it have been true that she enjoyed the sex as much as he, and their liaisons had only made her plan easier?
If so, he had been foolish in his love for her.
“Lies, Caroline. You speak nothing but lies.”
“Then why do your eyes acknowledge the truth? Even if I lied, and your beloved Elizabeth had not played you for a fool, you would still never win her heart. I have seen what she is like, and her heart will never be touched by another man as long as Wickham lives and therein lies the greatest irony.”
Darcy raised a questioning brow.