Chapter Nine #3
Mr. Collins regarded Mr. Darcy with impatience, eager for him to depart. But the other man did not take the hint; a corner of his mouth quirked upward. “I understand. Well, carry on.” He seated himself on a nearby bench, watching with avid interest.
“This is usually a private activity,” the cleric said icily.
Mr. Darcy nodded. “Yes, I understand. But I need to speak with Miss Elizabeth and have not had the opportunity for a week. I cannot let her out of my sight lest I miss my opportunity again.”
Elizabeth bit her lip against the danger of laughter.
“Actually, sir,” she said to her cousin, “since I have already declined your proposal”—was that a smile on Mr. Darcy’s face?
—“perhaps I might as well speak with Mr. Darcy.” Although she had been avoiding him all week, he was the lesser of two evils at the moment.
“But I anticipated pressing my suit a second and even a third time,” Mr. Collins said, causing Mr. Darcy’s eyes to widen with shock.
“Mr. Collins does not believe my first refusal was serious,” she explained to Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Collins nodded, somewhat bemusedly, lowered himself to one knee, opened his mouth, closed it again, and scrambled back to his feet. “Your presence, sir, is rather intrusive,” he grouched to Mr. Darcy.
“Perhaps you should give me time to consider your proposal,” Elizabeth suggested to him. “It is a momentous decision.”
“Ah…hmm…yes,” Mr. Collins said. “But don’t consider for too long. It is by no means certain that another offer of marriage will ever be made to you.”
Scowling, Mr. Darcy surged to his feet and advanced on a startled Mr. Collins.
“I do not know why you would say so, sir. In addition to being ungentlemanly and abominably rude, such a statement is patently untrue. Miss Elizabeth is beautiful, witty, accomplished, and a talented mancer. Whoever wins her hand will be a very fortunate man.”
Mr. Collins had shrunk away from the onslaught of Mr. Darcy’s icy disdain. “Of-Of course.”
But Mr. Darcy was not finished. “Perhaps you should do Miss Elizabeth the honor of believing she knows her own mind and was perfectly frank in her refusal the first time.”
“Er…yes…I-I s-suppose I shall return to the house.” Mr. Collins turned and hurried away.
***
Darcy waited until the cleric was out of earshot.
“I hope you are not distressed that I chased off your would-be fiancé?” he inquired of Elizabeth.
She had not seemed enamored of the man, but he had belatedly realized that perhaps she had been steeling herself to accept his offer out of a sense of duty to her family—which would be travesty of the highest order.
She appeared to be holding something back. Tears? “No,” she said in a strangled voice. And then burst into laughter.
Relieved, Darcy released his laughter as well. Collins had been altogether ridiculous, from his horrid singing to his mud-covered clothing to his entitled assumption that he deserved Elizabeth.
The laughter died down, but then Elizabeth said, “He has the voice of a dyspeptic frog.” And more merriment ensued. She wiped tears from her eyes. “Truly, I must thank you for sending the man off,” she said to Darcy. “Although I fear he will prevail upon me again.”
“You are not planning to accept him?” The thought, no matter how unlikely, filled Darcy with horror.
“Heavens no!” she exclaimed. “My mother would be pleased since he is to inherit Longbourn. But no inheritance is worth a lifetime of that-that singing!”
“I believe caterwauling would be a more apt word.”
“I will not dispute the description.”
Their laughter spent, silence fell between them.
This was Darcy’s chance to say his piece. He cleared his throat. “I must apologize for being…less than truthful with you.”
Her face went still. “For lying about your name, your occupation, your place of residence, and nearly every other pertinent fact about your life?”
He stiffened. “It was necessary. When I first awoke at Longbourn, I did not know if I could trust your family.”
“And after we healed you, fed you, concealed you, and helped you fight off the wights, you still did not know if you could trust us?”
He frowned. “No, I did come to trust your family. But it was safest for everyone if I maintained my anonymity while there was any chance the necromancer was searching for me. And there are many things I cannot discuss. Not only for my protection but for the protection of those around me.”
“So I have surmised. I have narrowed down the possibilities to either a spy for Napoleon or an agent for the Council’s Assessor’s Agency.”
“I am not a French spy!” Darcy said indignantly.
The corner of her mouth curled upward, and he realized what he had tacitly admitted. She was too clever by half. Damnation! He was supposed to be a secret agent.
He sighed, acknowledging the truth of her assumption. “I must conduct my affairs in the utmost secrecy. Even Bingley and my sister do not know about…certain parts of my life.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “However, they are fortunate enough to know your real name, occupation, and place of residence. Unless those are lies as well?”
“No.”
“You say you trusted us. Then why did you not reveal your real identity? After the wights acquired the amulet, there was no need to hide.”
Darcy shrugged. “It was simply easier to continue with the false identity. There is never a good time to reveal a lie. I thought it would not matter in the end.”
She stiffened. “You planned to quit Hertfordshire without ever informing us that we had entertained Mr. Darcy, master of Pemberley, for a fortnight.”
It sounded despicable when she said it that way. But honesty was the only way through this awkwardness. “That was my scheme, yes.”
“Because you did not want anyone knowing that Mr. Darcy had associated with the lowly Bennets of Longbourn.” Her mouth was twisted in a harsh line.
“No!” He was appalled she believed that. “No.”
“Then why?” she demanded.
“I…suppose I enjoyed the fantasy of being simple Mr. Dee the wool merchant. He could be friends with your family. He had no need to maintain his station. He was free to…admire you.” I did not take the time to savor that experience when I had the chance, Darcy thought sadly.
“Oh.” Elizabeth’s eyes went very wide.
“But that is the problem with fantasies, is it not?” His voice sounded bitter. “I am not Mr. Dee. And Mr. Darcy’s world came looking for me all too soon.”
“Are you promised to another? Do you have an understanding with Miss Bingley?”
“No!” What a terrible thought. Where had she heard that rumor?
“But I am not free to follow my heart…” he fumbled.
“My family has been racked with scandals. My father was arrested for misusing his magic.” Her eyebrows climbed in surprise.
“We managed to keep it from the papers, but everyone in the Council knows. He died before facing the indignity of a public trial.”
“Ah,” Elizabeth said. “I wondered who had betrayed you so badly.”
He grimaced. “You know me well. But that was not the only time. More recently, there was…a scandal involving my cousin Edward, Richard’s brother, and a sordid use of mancy.
His other brother John, the viscount, married a woman of dubious reputation.
My aunt and uncle have made it clear that they pin their hopes upon me to redeem the family honor.
They expect me to marry a woman from a highly regarded family. ”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “That must be a heavy burden to bear.”
“At this moment, the burden is nearly unbearable,” he admitted to her. “I cannot tell you how badly I wish I were someone else.”
She lifted her chin. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
Darcy had laid his heart on the grass at her feet for her to examine. But it was the right thing to do. “Do you forgive me for my deception?”
“Yes,” she said without any hesitation.
He stood a little straighter, a weight lifted from his shoulders. “I must warn you that the necromancer is using wights to attack mages in London. The Council is using vivomancers to fight the scourge, but the director may inquire if you are willing to join the fight.”
She regarded him seriously. “I would be willing, but I must discuss it with my father. He has worked so assiduously to ensure the secrecy of my magic. I cannot bring myself to simply discard it.”
He nodded. “I will relay that message to the director. I plan to leave for London tomorrow.”
She looked everywhere but at him. “I will miss you.”
Such simple words. How did they make him ache with longing?
She cleared her throat. “I must tell you that Mr. Wickham has been blackening your name throughout Meryton.”
Darcy sighed. “He always does that.”
“Did you know that he is a pensimancer?”
Darcy’s jaw dropped open. “A—No. Surely you are mistaken!”
“Not at all. I watched as he turned opinions against you throughout the ballroom yesterday. He even convinced Jane that you were not to be trusted.”
Darcy rubbed his jaw. “I wondered why she was glaring at me in the parlor. But I have known George Wickham my whole life; he has never demonstrated any mancy.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Perhaps he concealed it from you, or perhaps the ability came to him late in life.”
“And he did not attempt to persuade you of my perfidy?”
She colored and stared at her shoes. “He did, but apparently I am immune to his…charms.”
And here Darcy had been anxious that she preferred Wickham to him! Could he have received any greater proof of her preference?
“Elizabeth….” He could not stand it any longer.
He crossed the two feet of space between them in a single step and pulled her into his arms. He expected her to stiffen, but instead she melted, conforming to his body as if they were one person.
How could it possibly feel so right to hold her when he knew it was so wrong?
He had only intended an embrace, but it was not enough.
Not nearly enough. He tilted his head down as her face rose to meet his.
Their lips came together. The kiss was desperate—as if each supplied the air the other needed to breathe.
It was a goodbye, but at the same time he did not understand how such a thing was possible.
This dance of lips and tongues was the most wonderful sensation he had ever experienced.
He never wanted it to cease and was not sure he could survive if it did.