Chapter Twelve #2
“Do not be daft, William. If you killed Wickham to gain her heart, she would hate you for murdering him.”
Lost and reeling, Darcy retreated from the witch's poisoned presence to mull over the seeds of doubt that had been planted.
They were just words, and words should not hurt so much, but they had.
Worse than that, they had made sense, a terrible, sickening sense.
He loved his wife so dearly and his heart wanted to believe that someday she would love him in return, but still she did not, even after all they had shared.
His feet carried him to his valet and numbly, he spouted off an order. Shocked but wary, the valet merely nodded and scrambled away to fulfil his master's request.
* * *
“It has been a long time, my lord. I rather missed our visits.”
“I cannot claim the same,” Darcy muttered, still not believing he had planned to fuck Ivy, a former favourite, in Elizabeth's bed.
That was the case, until realization struck him.
He had no desire for any woman but Elizabeth, and if he went through with it, Caroline would get exactly what she wanted.
He might as well have been on a wild drunk, the way his head had only now started to clear.
“Go on, get dressed. This was a mistake.”
She seemed disappointed, as if she had missed the High Lord's company. Still nude, nonchalant, and rather brazen, Ivy dropped a deep curtsey then went about gathering her robes. She took her time, flaunting every angle of her form. The wench hoped to change his mind!
Elizabeth cleared her throat.
“Forgive me, sir. I had not realized you were keeping company.” She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her breasts.
“Be gone then,” Darcy muttered, cursing his poor luck. He could ask Caroline to affect Elizabeth’s memory of Ivy but pushed the notion away. He turned to his wife. No, Caroline had already brought him enough trouble.
“Who is she?” she asked as though inquiring about the dinner menu. Her eyes were locked on him, her lips pursed into a thin line.
He swallowed as if his father was about to take a switch to his hide.
“Nobody important,” he muttered.
At being called unimportant, Ivy huffed and tightened her gown. Elizabeth quickly stepped the rest of the way into the room to avoid being run down by the angry whore.
“Important enough to have disrobed for the Prince of Pemberley? Who is she?” Agitation iced her words.
His ire flared. Caroline's suggestions rang in his ears yet again, and insecurity about his place in Elizabeth's life spread through him like a foul cancer. He sloshed some ale into a pewter mug and gulped it down.
“A mistress of mine,” he replied, reconsidering the addition of the word “former” at the very last moment.
“And you visit her when? During my bath? Or perhaps you slip out of our bed and into hers after I have fallen asleep.”
“Do not be absurd!” He railed. “I have not used her of late!”
“My lord, I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours. If you long for your whore, do seek her out! I ask one small courtesy, though: that you not have her in our bed so I might maintain the illusion of your loyalty.”
“You speak so earnestly of loyalty, my lady. I wonder at your definition of the word.”
Confusion washed over her face. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Is that not a letter to your beloved George? Are you not begging him to save you? How many oaths of undying love did you pledge?”
He was angry but filled with fear. She approached him, pausing when he took an involuntary, flinching step back.
Even now, after all they had admitted and shared, he was shocked to realize he did not trust her completely.
Her fingers reached out and gently stroked his arm, unknowingly soothing his worried, frightened soul.
“It is a letter to George. I did not beg him to save me. How can one be rescued when she is safe? I pledged no oaths to him, for I have already made my oath to you. I brought the letter for you to read.”
“Why?” He hated the suspicion in his voice.
“Were you not present when I showed a man very similar to your description the letter I received?”
A dry smile flashed over his lips. Even at his worst, she could always call forth a smile from him. “I was.”
“Then it is equally fair that you ought to be allowed to read my reply, do you not think?” She offered the paper to him and took note of his caution as he took possession. Rising to her toes, Elizabeth brushed a reassuring kiss over his mouth. “I shall leave you to read.”
He shook his head. “No. Stay.”
“Very well.” She settled in her chair near the fireplace and took up the shirt she had been working on for him.
Bonny George,
Your letter, I fear, quite took me by surprise. I had resigned myself to never having your sweet words in my presence ever again. It was a gentle reminder of younger days before duty took a liking to me and made me a prosperous and happy bride.
It seems so very long ago, that day on Bishop's Hill when you told me of the house you dreamt of building for us. A lifetime has passed since then, and we have both lived a thousand years in scarcely a few moments. I cherish the memories I have of you. Ye shall always be my bonny George.
If you ever loved me, you would do as I ask, nay, plead now.
Pray heed my pleas and return home now. Assure my Papa that I am fine and shall write to him as soon as may be.
I had not realized the serious lapse in my correspondence.
My duties here beg a great deal of my time and, at first, were quite overwhelming.
I vow to do better in putting pen to paper for the benefit of those who care about me.
You will, however, understand that a correspondence between our persons is quite impossible.
Trust, dear George, that I know what is best and right for me. In these brief months since my marriage, I have tasted power and wealth unlike that of which I knew before. People turn to me for help and guidance. I should be a fool and a coward if I denied enjoying my role.
My husband, the High Lord Darcy, Prince of Pemberley, depends upon my opinion.
I daresay he actually listens on occasion.
It is with affection that I jest at his expense for I know he listens frequently and rules the better for it.
I am not the power behind the throne by any means, but my husband does respect my contribution to the running of his lands.
We did not see the truth at the time when we were ripped away from each other, but my husband is a good man. He has the potential to be a great man, and I need to be by his side to assist him in that endeavour. You must leave me be, dear, bonny George. You must. I beg this of ye.
I loved you once, but I am another man's wife now.
There comes a moment when the reason behind a choice becomes clear.
I could have run with you, could have damned Papa and Longbourn, but in the end it was I who made the choice to marry High Lord Darcy.
If you find that you need to lay blame, then let that blame lie with me.
Go home, bonny George. My place is at my husband's side. It is there that I want to remain.
Elizabeth, HL
No affectionate closing was evident, just a simple, formal signature with her name and title.
No endearments stronger than “dear.” And then, the last line: “It is where I want to remain.” She wanted to be with him!
She was not going to leave! Caroline's evil insinuations faded as joy filled his heart.
Elizabeth was not a liar; this was the simple truth.
Caroline had tried to poison him without success.
He dropped to his knees before her chair and surrendered all to her in a position he had never taken before in his life. A queen and her subject, and he hardly cared. She set her sewing aside, and he quickly captured her hands, kissing the palms with vigour.
“My letter wins your approval then, my husband?”
“You want to stay with me!” His voice threatened to break. “I have never been happier.”
* * *
The excitement in William’s words made her smile: dark, dangerous High Lord Darcy looked like a little boy.
Elizabeth slipped out of her chair to the floor in front of him, her lips pressed to his just long enough to remind her how he tasted, though she doubted she would ever forget.
Cupping his face, she met his eyes and held his gaze.
“You will trust me enough one day to believe what I say. I am praying that day comes soon. Until then, I must inform you that I will be the only woman in your bed. If I walk into our bedchamber and find another nude woman, you will be missing an important piece of your anatomy. Are we clear?” He nodded.
“I meant it when I told George to go home. The work I am doing here has become important to me. I am able to help people on a daily basis and see lives made better for my efforts. That is a grand reward, and you certainly are not a terrible price to pay for providing me with that special luxury.”
“You have come to love my people, have you not?”
“They are a kind, generous people who want nothing more than what is best for those they love, behaviour I am certain they have learned from their prince.”
“Who learned it from his princess.”
“I have nothing to do with what kind of man you are, William.”
“That is wrong. You have everything to do with what kind of man I am.
Before you, I ruled my people fairly but harshly.
I had become cold and distant and did not see them as people.
They were merely stepping-stones. That has changed for me, and the change came when you came into my life and opened up my heart.
“Thank you.”