Chapter 38 #2
He entered, dressed for the night and carrying two bottles, two glasses, and a little smile, adding to his dark gaze.
“I thought we might enjoy a drink while we talk.”
Her cheeks were burning. “If I take a sip of brandy, any conversation will be over very soon.”
“I have sherry for you, Mrs Darcy. I hope you will enjoy it. Do not fret — if you fall asleep, I shall carry you to bed.”
She laughed at his attempt to tease her while he filled the glasses.
“You should sit on the bed, to be more comfortable,” he suggested. Nervous, she looked about, then hesitantly sat on the edge.
He grasped her hand and caressed it gently.
“Elizabeth, there is no need to be nervous or anxious. This night is not… We shall only spend a little time together and talk, if you like.”
“I am not nervous…I mean, I am, but I am not anxious. I am just not accustomed to all this”—she gestured vaguely between them—“yet. Your presence in my room and… But I want to become accustomed to it,” she said quietly.
“I am not accustomed to it either, and I would very much like to be,” he agreed, handing her the glass of sherry. She sipped a little, and the liquor immediately warmed her, almost as much as her husband’s gaze.
“Will you tell me what happened today? And why do you need to leave?”
“As I mentioned, we went to see Mrs Younge. At first, she refused to indulge us. She insisted she knew nothing and that Georgiana had acted according to her own free will. She professed complete innocence. However…”
He took a sip of his brandy, while Elizabeth held her breath with curiosity.
“Mr Ross discovered some facts that helped to persuade her to cooperate. Apparently, Mrs Younge recently took some jewellery to a pawn shop, two items of which belonged to my family. We confronted her and accused her of stealing, threatening her with turning her over to the judge. Of course, she denied the theft and proclaimed Georgiana had given the items willingly to Wickham, which is probably true. But Mr Ross declared he knew to whom the other items belonged and would bring more witnesses to accuse her of a capital crime.”
“Oh…”
“Yes, apparently, Mr Ross has few scruples in using any argument to make his point, which must be an important quality in his line of work,” he said with a trace of humour.
“May I ask what his line of work is?”
“He…provides information, amongst other things. The kind of information that is generally not easy to find. And he excels at being discreet. I was told he was one of the Bow Street Runners for several years. Mr Gardiner recommended him to me, and I did not require more details. He is an efficient man, and that is all I need at the moment.”
“I see…”
“Eventually, Mrs Younge provided us with the things left by Wickham. We searched through them and found one more piece of jewellery and also some letters between him and a woman who owns an inn in Newport. We returned to question Mrs Younge again, even more persuasively this time, and learnt that the woman was her own cousin and involved in a previous relationship with Wickham.”
“Dear Lord! What a tangle!”
“Yes… It became even clearer that it was all a conspiracy, carefully planned, with Georgiana as an innocent victim. I have to say, Richard was even angrier than I, if that is possible. Probably because he has always been more ready to blame and reprimand Georgiana for her elopement and her subsequent stubbornness.”
“It was not stubbornness…she must have been afraid of a scandal, of hurting you and your family name. Who knows how those dreadful people threatened and controlled her. Just imagine, a young girl, taken away from her family, surrounded by those evil schemers…”
“We finally understood that. For several months, I assumed she was so foolishly taken with…so in love with that scoundrel that she abandoned her brother, her family, even her common sense because of him. I was so wrong, and I am ashamed of my misjudgment.”
“You have no reason to be. You acted out of love, and you have been nothing but affectionate and considerate to her. She knows that too well, and she only fears she does not deserve your kindness.”
“It pains me that, eventually, I shall have to reveal to her even more details of this sordid affair. She will be horrified to know how badly she has been used, and by two people she trusted so much.”
“She will be grieved indeed, but I believe she already suspects that,” Elizabeth said.
Both of them took further sips from their glasses, equally affected by the revelation.
“Would you like a little more sherry? I certainly need another drink,” he offered and refilled his glass and then hers.
“Just a little bit… Tomorrow morning you are going to Newport. What if Mrs Younge has already sent word to her cousin?” She took her glass and patted the place beside her on the bed so he could continue the story sitting close.
“Mrs Younge is currently imprisoned, waiting for us to decide whether we shall file a complaint and send her to trial or not.”
“Imprisoned?”
“Yes, Mr Ross suggested a few days in prison in the winter would suit her well. He made all the arrangements, and I did not require further details. It is probably not entirely legal, but I agree she deserves it.”
“Mr Ross seems to know what he is doing. I certainly approve of his suggestions. It gives me a little comfort to know he will go with you. Does my uncle know of all this?”
“He does. Only him and Richard know the full story. And now you.”
She returned his smile and gently cupped his face.
“Thank you for trusting me. I know not many men would share such things with their wives.”
“I remember having quite a few quarrels on this subject a few weeks ago,” he said, smiling back.
“At the time, I did not feel confident enough to confess the miserable situation I found myself in. My father’s reckless actions, my sister’s ruin, my need for urgent funds to resolve a situation that seemed beyond hope…
I was too embarrassed, too ashamed, too angry. And perhaps…”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps I feared I would lose any good opinion you might have had of me. I knew you already thought ill of me for marrying you for your money.”
“Then you must have been a fool, Mr Darcy. My opinion of you was never ill. And as for my fortune, we had a contract that I willingly signed. And I often wondered…and told myself that…”
“Yes?”
“If not for your desperate need for money, you would have probably never married me.”
She gazed deeply into his eyes. He took a moment before replying, “If not for my desperate need for money, I would not have considered marrying so suddenly. But I am quite certain that, if I had become better acquainted with you, I would have been charmed. From the first moment I spoke to you, something in your manner impressed me as no other woman ever had before.”
“Hmm…” she replied, doubtful, and he frowned. Their eyes still locked, he put his glass down.
“Do you doubt my words, Mrs Darcy?”
“I certainly do, Mr Darcy.”
“May I attempt to convince you that I am telling the truth?”
She quivered, her face burning again, while she struggled to jest.
“You may well do so, but I doubt your success. Whatever you may do or say, it will be proof of your present actions, not of your past intentions.”
“Perhaps, but I would like to try, nevertheless.”
He slowly took her glass from her hands, put it down, and leant closer to her.
Eyes locked, inches apart, she lay back against the pillows, closing her eyes, sighing as her lips were gently touched, then captured and tenderly tasted.
Her arms closed around him, caressing his back and broad shoulders, and his warm body covered her, stealing her breath.
With her heart full of joy and shivers running over her skin and through her, a little dizzy from the sherry, Elizabeth’s only thought was that her husband’s hands were softer and smoother than her silky nightgown, which suddenly had become redundant.
She needed a moment to recover even after he pulled away, looking at her with such tenderness.
“We should both go to sleep now. I need to rest and keep my energy for the journey. And my sanity, which is in great danger now.”
He was smiling at her, and she brushed her fingers over his lips, shaking a little when he pressed kisses over the tips and playfully bit them.
She explored his face, feeling the smooth skin under her fingers, wondering idly whether his valet shaved him every night, and daringly combed them through his locks.
“Would you not…”
“What?”
“Would you not stay a while? Just stay with me a little longer.”
“I would love to,” he replied. Then he mirrored her position, pulled the sheets over them, and embraced her gently.
“This is so…” he whispered a moment later. She lifted her eyes to him in wonder when he did not continue.
“Holding you in my arms, listening to you breathing, peacefully, quietly…it is wonderful,” he added.
“It is… I have never been held in such a way,” she murmured.
“Nor have I ever held anyone like this. In fact, I never wanted to, until I met you.”
There was silence again, and his arms tightened around her. She laid her head upon his chest, sighing with a deep sense of fulfilment and tranquillity as she listened to the steady beating of his heart.