Chapter 24
Darcy could not sleep. Elizabeth’s whisper—“Oh, how I wish I could kiss you right now,” had inflamed him immediately—so much so that he had to picture Mr Collins making smarmy remarks about the Bennet ladies to tamp down a display of his ardor.
But now that he was alone in the master bedchamber, contemplating the fact that in just two days they would be married, Darcy shifted from his back to his side, to his other side—this way and that, none of the positions feeling the least bit restful.
He got up, tied a banyan around his nightshirt, pulled on some breeches and house slippers, and he and his candlestick stalked down to the library.
Just as he settled into his favourite chair, Darcy wondered if Elizabeth would wander in during another late-night ramble. But she had not napped multiple times that day, so he supposed there was no chance she was having trouble sleeping.
Only a few moments after he had that thought, the door to the library swung open.
There stood Elizabeth, looking lovely with her hair loose on her shoulders.
“You are here!” she whispered as she slipped inside.
Her back to the door, she lingered there, and he heard the sound of the lock sliding into place.
Without even consciously deciding to move, Darcy found himself only a step away from Elizabeth when she put her candle down and moved away from the door she had locked. As if they had been separated for days instead of less than an hour, they fell into each other’s arms and began to kiss.
Only having to wait two more days should have made Darcy more patient, but it seemed to work in the opposite direction.
He had been so careful the last time they found each other alone at night.
He had not wished to court additional scandal after the potential for rumours that had been foisted upon them by their families.
This time, he shrugged off all sensible thoughts in favour of sensation.
Elizabeth was astonishingly responsive. Her lack of experience meant a certain amount of awkwardness, at times, but he loved her all the more that she attempted new things.
At one point, he cupped her bottom, lifting her up to feel his almost painful response to their embrace, and she moaned in the most delightful way.
When she tried to wrap her legs around his body, likely just wishing to get closer, they both got tangled in her long nightclothes, and he tripped a bit, before carefully lowering her to her feet.
He then changed his grip to swoop her off those feet and carry her to a plush settee.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered. It was hard to tell exactly what she was feeling in the low-level light, but he thought she might be feeling mortified to have caused them to stumble.
“I love how you respond to my words and my touch,” he assured her. “I hope you are not sorry for loving me back, my dearest Elizabeth.”
“Never that!” she murmured.
Then they forgot all about words as Darcy continued his ministrations in a safer, more horizontal position.
Time stretched and shrank as the two expressed their care for one another, but when Darcy pulled away, Elizabeth sat up and asked, “Why are you stopping?”
“I assume you still wish to wait for the wedding night to consummate.”
“Yes, I do. Or…maybe…But it is only two days away, so maybe we do not have to wait.”
“The fact that you feel mixed up about your answer tells me that we should wait.”
Elizabeth nodded. After a pause, she said, “You…are not as proper as I used to think.”
“I do not mind being improper—but only with you.”
“I feel the exact same way,” Elizabeth responded, and she kissed him one last time and then scooped up her candlestick and left the library.
One more day, Darcy thought. He had some very practical things to get done—some very non-Elizabeth things to do. But he wished his wedding day to be a celebration of other, more pleasurable activities, so he arranged for several meetings in an attempt to accomplish all that he could ahead of time.
The early-morning meeting was with his investigator.
Mr Morganstern had discovered that the Fitzwilliam family, seen as a whole, had a great deal of debt.
Apparently Sarah and Margaret were so spoilt they routinely exceeded their personal allowances, causing an increasing burden on the family’s fortune.
Richard caused no problems. He received the same allowance he had started with but earned steadily more money in the army as he went up the ranks.
On the other hand, the earl and countess were scrambling to keep up appearances, which meant that they, too, spent more than they ought.
The main problem, however, as Richard had guessed, was his brother the viscount.
According to the viscount’s valet, Stephen had such high gambling debts he had indeed materially impoverished Hargrove by selling off artworks and furnishings.
One night, too drunk to think clearly, likely, but not so drunk he could not sign his name, he had borrowed money from an infamous moneylender.
The valet continued the tale: desperate to avoid the destruction of his reputation, Stephen had finally confessed his debt to his father, not knowing that even he was in arrears, not through gambling, but through simple overspending.
Mr Morganstern shook his head, saying, “It is all too common a situation.”
Servants from Matlock House confirmed that the day that the viscount arrived looking frightened and disheveled, the earl conferred privately with the countess in such a long meeting it was memorable.
That same day, an express arrived from Pemberley.
Suddenly, the household was shocked by sounds of shouting emerging from one of the sitting rooms. “In all my years there,” the chattiest maid said, “I never heard a single shout from any of them. All of a sudden, there were the three least likely to shout—the earl, the countess, and the viscount—all going at it at the top of their lungs. It was a proper dust-up, it was.”
It seemed mad to Darcy that his relations would think that the Bennets could tell him that Elizabeth had changed her mind and was gone, and that his response would be to get angry, pout for a short while, and then marry one of his cousins.
He supposed that fear did not necessarily lend itself to making intelligent decisions.
The next meeting was with a banker named Johnson; this knowledgeable man had proved his trustworthiness many times over.
Darcy gave Johnson the information that the investigator had turned over—names of creditors and amounts owed.
Darcy had made a fairly accurate estimation of the total—a shocking six-and-thirty thousand pounds!
—and asked Johnson how he could afford to buy up the debt and which estates that Matlock owned were unentailed.
Previous to the meeting, Johnson had discovered three small estates and one other landholding that belonged to the earl that were not entailed; the annual income for each was listed in his written report.
Thanks to the fact that both men were clever with numbers, they soon came up with a plan that should work within a fortnight.
“Remember,” Darcy said to Johnson, “hire several agents and urge a high level of discretion as you buy up the debt. We wish the first the earl knows of it to be our demand for the Meadowbrook and Eastbourn estates.”
“Of course,” Johnson said. “And while you have your solicitor draw up the demand letter, you might also have him draw a writ of elegit, which you can show to the earl as a threat. If the situation ends up in the courts, it becomes public knowledge. Believe me, he does not wish for this to go public!”
Darcy studied the papers Johnson had provided on Eastbourn, shaking his head over the earl’s short-sightedness in neglecting the property.
The reports showed that there was a rich lode of coal, and it was located near a new tramroad that utilised iron tracks to more quickly and easily move coal and other freight.
It was worth far more than the purchase price set by its current income.
Darcy planned to snatch the undervalued estates to pay off the Matlock debt, and then to put enough money into those estates that they doubled their income or performed even better.
He did not plan to do so in order to be cruel to his uncle and aunt.
He felt strongly that the land transfer had to hurt in some way, or lessons would not be learnt.
And the prime lesson was: noli me tangere, “touch me not.” Do not interfere with the Darcys, individually or as a group.
Do not interfere with our concerns, the people we love, the people we befriend.
What Darcy planned would hurt the Fitzwilliams, and he hoped it would teach them in the strongest terms not to ever again attempt a scheme like the one they had just tried.
Of course, Darcy’s action spared the Fitzwilliams the anxiety that their son’s moneylender would destroy their reputations. Darcy was positive that paying off the moneylender would count for quite a bit. He hoped it would all go smoothly.
The last meeting was with Bingley. He came eagerly into Darcy’s study, smiling widely and reaching for his hand to shake. Darcy felt a smile break out over his own face—he truly did appreciate his friend’s affable, light-hearted personality.
But…this was not going to be an enjoyable talk.
Bingley said, “It has been an age, Darce! When did you get to town?”
Darcy said, “Almost a week ago.” The two men sat, and Darcy continued, “I have some very important things to tell you, and I do not wish you to tell one of the things to anyone at all, most especially not your sisters, until late tomorrow afternoon. The other thing I wish you to keep quiet forever. Do you feel comfortable promising to keep these secrets?”
“Of course!” Bingley said. “I hope they are either exciting or scandalous, as well as important.”