CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Darcy stared at the note. Without betraying his alarm, he asked of his valet, “When was this delivered?”
“It arrived by courier a half hour ago while you were out with Mr. Bingley,” his valet replied.
Darcy had gone riding with Charles in the early morning when the air was crisp and the horses could be urged into full gallop without the weight of a warm day upon them.
He would have liked, however, to ask the courier who had commissioned the note to him.
Abby was the likely author, but the handwriting was not hers.
Perhaps she had reason to ask another to pen the note.
She knew he stayed at Netherfield. He examined the note once more.
It was addressed to him but contained nothing more than a ten word directive:
Four Horses Posting Inn, Meryton. Noon Hour. To-day. Final Lesson.
It must have come from Abby. No one else would send him such a cryptic message and refer to a ‘final lesson.’ He supposed she meant a final lesson with Miss Elizabeth. Abby would not have known of his engagement. Perhaps this was her attempt at matchmaking.
As his valet assisted him from his riding coat, he considered penning a response to Abby that a final lesson would be unnecessary. With happy tidings to report, he would have a lifetime to provide Miss Elizabeth all the ‘lessons’ she should ever require.
But if an assignation had been set up for noon to-day, no reply would reach Abby in time.
He surmised Miss Elizabeth to have received a similar note.
He could send a message to her more easily, but then he would risk drawing attention to her.
He had no wish to keep her waiting at this posting inn—if she intended to attend.
The prospect rather rattled him. He preferred she didn’t.
He preferred her to want nothing more to do with the man who had served as her mentor now that she was in love with him.
Though he could not fault her for wanting a final lesson before committing the rest of her life to a man whose skills at lovemaking she had no indications, the thought that she might be a little partial to her mentor made him stiffen.
Good God. He was jealous of his own person.
Yet it was a very real possibility. Many a student fell in love with their mentor.
But the attachment was of a superficial sort and passed easily.
Whatever attachment Miss Elizabeth might harbor for her mentor signified little.
Still, he could not help being curious. He had resolved not to wait another day before baring all to his dear Lizzy.
She seemed to return his affection beyond what he could have hoped for, but she may want nothing more to do with him when all was revealed.
Though his happiness could not be complete till he had made a clean breast of his concerns, the joy he had experienced yesterday was incomparable.
Theirs may prove a short-lived engagement, but he was determined to win her hand a thousand times over, if needed.
“Shall we make our way to Longbourn?” Charles proposed at breakfast.
“I think you must marry soon if you cannot last four and twenty hours without seeing your beloved,” Darcy smiled, though he felt every bit as eager as his friend. “I have some business to attend in Meryton, but the afternoon would be convenient.”
Satisfied, Charles bothered his friend no more till Darcy was headed out the door.
“Shall I ride with you and keep you company?” Charles asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Darcy replied as he reached into the pocket of his riding coat for his gloves and, by accident, dislodged a black satin mask.
It fell to the ground. Charles picked it up. “Yours?”
Darcy took the mask and shoved it back into his pocket. “Must have been from an old masquerade.”
“It was in your riding coat?” Charles then surveyed his friend’s greatcoat with stacked shoulder capes. “Will you not be warm in that garrick?”
“This one is cut from linen, not wool,” Darcy eschewed and took his leave before he might be forced into a fib.
Once saddled, he pulled his hat lower. He was not unknown in these parts and preferred to travel as inconspicuously as possible. Luck was with him, and he encountered no one he knew on the road to Meryton.
The Four Horses Posting Inn, situated on the outskirts of the township, was a modest structure with no neighbors.
The regiment, while it was stationed in Meryton, had made much use of it, but at present, the place seemed nearly deserted.
Darcy looked about for a stablehand but eventually saw to his own horse.
Inside, he was met with a heavyset woman he presumed to be the innkeeper or the wife.
She had on a surly countenance that improved greatly upon seeing the quality of her guest.
Seeking minimal interaction with her, he explained promptly, “I have an engagement here at noon.”
She grunted. “Last room ta yer left, second floor. I can ’ave some wine sent ta yer room, shall I?”
“Privacy is all that is required at present.”
She grunted again. “That’ll cost ya a shillin’ more.”
He frowned but retrieved his purse and placed the coin in her grubby palm.
Then he took himself up the stairs before she thought of something else to charge him for.
At the end of the hall, he paused before the door, removed his hat, and pulled the short mask over his eyes.
He had no premeditations for what ought to happen and would let her guide the session.
Though it might pain him to ascertain her feelings for her mentor, he knew that as his only motive. Softly he rapped on the door.
“Come in,” a voice from within said.
The windows of the room were shuttered but enough light peered through the cracks that he could discern the furniture and her silhouette upon the bed.
She wore her mask from the Lilac Cottage and, like him, was clothed in a manner to conceal as much of her person as possible. An awkward silence ensued.
“I was unsure you would come,” she remarked at last, “given your decision to quit your position with Mrs. Trenwith.”
“My commitment to you was made prior to such a determination, and I will not desert my charge,” he replied.
“You are here merely out of duty then?”
He did not quite know how to answer. In his role purely as mentor, the answer would be ‘yes,’ but given that his student was also the love of his life, obligation was not the entire account.
“In part,” he replied truthfully.
She frowned.
“Did you wish for another mentor?” he asked, his groin tightening.
“Not at all.”
He relaxed.
“But,” she continued, “I would not have faulted you if you had resigned all obligations. Your sense of responsibility is admirable, but I absolve you of all concerns. You are free to leave.”
“Do you desire my departure?” he inquired.
She seemed flustered. “I have no wish to compel you to stay if you do not desire it.”
This was a strange exchange. What did she mean by such vagueness?
“The student dictates the direction,” he reminded her.
“If I wished to pursue the lesson, you would oblige?”
He knew not how to answer. Did she want a lesson? He was unsure he could persist in the charade if she did.
“If I did not wish it,” she rephrased, “would you…would you be disappointed?”
“Do you not wish for the lesson?” he asked, puzzled. He knew Abby to favour their unification, but she would not have set up a lesson without the consent of the student.
“I hesitate because my circumstances have changed.”
He was glad to hear their engagement had provoked some qualms to lying with another man. They remained with the room between them, both hesitant, more aloof than strangers at their first lesson.
“I understand,” he said, for he wished her no discomfort. “Your pending nuptials must make an education of this nature awkward.”
She looked at him sharply. “Yes, indeed.”
He detected a rise in tension.
“And you would yet provide an engaged woman her final lesson?”
“I would not,” he responded unequivocally.
“But you follow the dictates of the student.”
“An engagement is a different matter. I do not mentor married or engaged women.”
“Then why are you here?”
“As I could not send word to Abby in timely fashion, it would have been impolite to leave you to sit alone and in ignorance.”
“You could have sent a note to the inn.”
“Yes, but that would have been impersonal.”
“Why did you not mention earlier that you would not continue with an engaged pupil?”
“Why did you not reveal your engagement?” he returned.
Something was amiss. He had inadvertently revealed his knowledge of her engagement, but she had hardly seemed surprised. Before he could ponder it more, however, she had risen to her feet and approached him.
“Are you certain you do not wish to have our final lesson?” she asked, her tone rich with suggestion.
His cock perked instantly.
“I am,” he said.
She stood before him, peering up into his face. “Because it be your policy or your penchant?”
He observed her parted lips and silently groaned. Was she attempting to seduce him?
“What does it matter?” he responded as evenly as he could.
Mere inches separated them. She reached for and straightened one of the lapels of his garrick.
He stared at her hand upon his chest. Desire swelled through his body.
He wanted to take her. His body, clamoring to have her, would have a will of its own.
But the disharmony of his emotions managed to stay him—for the moment.
She was attempting to seduce her mentor.
The realization shocked and vexed him. He took a step back.
She raised her brows. “Do I offend you now? You were never adverse to our contact before.”
“For a woman newly engaged, you are keen to have this final lesson?”
Disheartened that he may have misjudged her devotion to him, he nearly choked on the words.
She stepped toward him. “Would your reservations cease if I were not engaged?”