Chapter Eight #4
William was on his feet with very little effort, despite the inebriated state he had swiftly achieved.
He realized his waistcoat was hanging open, and he had spilled a bit of brandy on it, but he attempted to give his appearance some dignity.
He gestured toward the door and followed Elizabeth into the library, which was blessedly empty.
As soon as the door was closed behind them, she was in his arms. “Oh, Mr. Darcy! I had to see you, to remind you of my deep and unyielding affection. Naturally, Mamma related to me the substance of your interview – imbuing a great deal of her own satirical commentary. But I am not affected by her grim view of your tragic history. Naturally, I am moved by your past, being so similar to my own, and I care nothing for the mystery of your parentage. She has forbidden me to speak of it to any of our relations, and of course she has forbidden me to marry you, or even see you. But my feelings and wishes remain unchanged.”
William encircled her in his arms, one hand stroking her back and the other tangling in her hair.
He rested his cheek against the top of her head, closed his eyes, and savored the feel of her.
He loved her dearly; to give her up would tear his heart out.
And then, this surge of passion compelled him to speak – he must tell her the truth.
But Elizabeth turned her face upward and met his lips, silencing the overdue confession he knew that she was owed.
He succumbed to her enchanting ardor, and they staggered as they devoured one another, until they stumbled into a bookshelf.
William’s head hit the heavy oak with a thud, and Elizabeth brought her fingers to her lips to stifle a laugh.
“I ought to go before I am carried away with myself, and give you further injury. Mamma says we shall all return home tomorrow morning, to continue our preparations for Jane’s wedding – Rebecca has consented to marry from Rosings, as she hopes this will result in less of London society attending.
I will miss you desperately, but it is only three weeks until I am of age.
I shall write to you daily, and ere long we shall be together. I promise it.”
William cupped her face in his hands, drinking in the sight of her devotion before giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “You are the most remarkable woman I have ever beheld, my love. You may write to me at Wildewood Manor, the village of Markby, in Surrey. But how shall I get word to you?”
“Lady Catherine would not be suspicious of my receiving so many letters from Miss Darrow. One more kiss, my darling, and then I must go.” Elizabeth curled her arms about his neck as she bestowed this parting kiss upon him, and then she spun and fled the room.
When Darcy returned to the billiard room, he collided with Bingley, who instantly denied that he had been listening at the door. The earl was still looking rather like a liquid, and Richard was sprawling in a chair with his feet propped up on a nearby table.
“I have been thinking, old chap, that you are going to have to do something about being Will Darcy in town and William Worthing in the country. And this ward of yours, Miss Cardew – what does cousin Lizzy say to that?”
“I shall inform her in good time. I have more pressing matters; I must apply myself to discovering at least one of my parents, though I hardly know how I am to do so.”
“Come and stay with me at the Hursts’ place when the Fitzwilliam’s depart for Rosings,” Bingley suggested. “Surely London is your best chance at combing through old records of foundlings from twenty-seven years ago.”
“I suppose I might stay a few days,” William mused.
Any longer than this amongst Bingley’s relations would drive him to distraction, given the state he was in.
Besides, if he was to correspond with Elizabeth, he would rather do so at home.
“At any rate, there may also be some records of Sir Thomas’s which I might discover at the manor. ”
Bingley grinned. “And as for Will Darcy? Did you not say your household believes this phantom persona to be a dissolute cousin of yours?”
“He ought to be gotten rid of,” Richard said. “As much as it pains me, I have resolved to kill off poor Bunbury when I am wed.”
“Yes, perhaps that is for the best – Miss Cardew is a fanciful creature, and she is far too interested in tales of his exploits, and it has become rather a nuisance. I shall say that he died of apoplexy or the like.”
“I should very much like to meet this fanciful creature, Miss Cardew,” Bingley said.
“Not a chance,” William quipped. “The only new acquaintance Kitty will be making in the near future is Miss Elizabeth. I believe they will get on well together. Indeed, I daresay an hour after they have met, they shall be calling each other sister.”
William gave a sigh of contentment as he imagined Elizabeth at Wildewood. They continued their game of billiards, and he cheerfully ignored the banter of his comrades, his mind more agreeably engaged after Elizabeth’s tender reassurances.