Her Voice of Reason Page 11

  “That I can believe. You refused Collins, after all.”

  “You know about this?”

  “Yes, I do know. Lady Catherine found it necessary to inform me that you insolently had rejected the excellent match Mr. Collins was.”

  Elizabeth shuddered. “I could not marry him. Even if I had known of Papa’s illness at the time of Mr. Collins’ proposal, I do not think that I could force myself to accept him. I would have preferred to work in the kitchens than be his wife. I feel nausea only by standing close to him.”

  “Objectively speaking, he was a good match for you,” he noted. “Should I feel flattered that you considered my person less abhorrent?”

  “Well, you have a certain advantage over my cousin, it is certain. You take regular baths, you are far from stupid, and you are rather handsome. It was quite enough of an incentive, I assure you.”

  “Thank you.” He bowed his head. “It is quite encouraging to hear such a complimentary description of myself. I will remember about frequent baths in the future.”

  Elizabeth smiled, amused with his remarks. Darcy was always perfectly serious and stone-faced on uttering his opinions, even the most absurd ones. Folding the letter from Charlotte, she carried it to her desk, putting it into its place. When she turned back to bed, she saw that Darcy was standing right next to her. His expression was both tense and fierce.

  “Despite the unfortunate circumstances of our union, I do believe that you understand that a man of my position cannot afford to separate or divorce from his wife. Thus I do believe that we should try to repair our relations to our very best ability.”

  A great relief washed over Elizabeth. Her reaction was unexpected as she remembered well how during the short period of her engagement she had dreamed almost every night of Darcy releasing her from her given word. She regretted the way her marriage came to fruition. She was displeased with herself at believing in her father’s early passing so easily and strongly that she had married the first man who had proposed to her.

  Nevertheless, she was truly happy on hearing that Darcy did not wish to end their union. If he had truly wanted to remove her from his life, he could do it, despite his words that he could not afford it. He could easily, both financially and socially. Elizabeth was certain that scandal would be easily forgotten and a new regiment of eager Mamas would be waiting to attack him with their willing daughters.

  “I hope that we shall learn to live next to one another and that we shall work for the future of Pemberley. This future includes next generations. I wish to pass the estate to my own son and not to my possible nephew from Georgiana.”

  Elizabeth thought of her aunt’s words, spoken only yesterday. How had she known that Darcy would come so soon to exercise his marital rights?

  “I will not beg you for this, Elizabeth,” he announced, his tone firm. “I am within my rights.”

  She looked up at him. There was determination and detachment in his expression but no anger.

  Elizabeth walked to the bed, climbing under the covers. She scooted away to make room for him. She removed the shawl which she had wrapped around her shoulders. She reached to the other side of the bed to blow the candles.

  “Do not.” His hand on her hip stopped her. He was already in bed next to her. “I enjoy seeing you.”

  Slowly Elizabeth turned to him, obediently lying down. In one decided gesture, he pulled the covers off her body. She had a thin summer gown, made of light see-through material. He had seen her in less before and in daylight, but tonight under his gaze she felt shy and mightily uncomfortable.

  His large hand was placed on her side before he ran it down her leg to her knees where the gown was bunched up showing her calves. “This is what I paid for, then?”

  Elizabeth felt as if a dagger of pain shot through her chest. She could not deny his words, though. He was correct.

  He leaned over her, cupping her face. “You were the one thing I did not wish to buy. Would you have been more benevolent towards me if I had flattered you and your family when we met?”

  “I would have been kinder to you if you had treated other people with respect, without disdain, pride and prejudice.”

  His finger kept stroking her cheek at a leisurely pace. “Even when they are ridiculous fools like your friends in Hertfordshire.”

  “They were born in less privilege than you. Their intelligence and education are lacking, but despite their drawbacks they deserve respect, as they are human beings. Although silly and restricted in their views, they are good and kind people.”

  Darcy’s finger on her face stopped its movement. “My mother said similar words to me a long time ago.”

  Elizabeth did not have an opportunity to answer his words because he engaged her mouth with his. At the beginning she laid stiff and unresponsive in his arms, fearful that he would treat her differently. He was indeed different. He did not whisper tender words into her ear or stare in her eyes for prolonged moments. He was as gentle, patient and passionate as before, though. Yet again Elizabeth clung to him, moaning quietly as sweet pleasure spread through her body.

  When she returned to her senses and opened her eyes, she saw him staring at her curiously.

  “Did your mother teach you to show your pleasure to me to please me?” he asked. Not waiting for her answer, he rose up from the bed, gathering his scattered belongings and left the room.

  Elizabeth cried herself to sleep that night.

  ***

  Elizabeth stared at the letter in her hands. She was quite surprised that it was addressed in a very ill way. Jane had very beautiful handwriting and it was difficult to imagine that she could have even written this.

  Worry tugged at Elizabeth’s heart as she tore the seal open. Inside, the letters were equally badly shaped. Jane must have been upset over some matter while writing it. Was it Papa? Had his health worsened? Jane was always calm and collected; there were very few situations which could make her lose her composure.

  Gathering all her courage, Elizabeth focused her attention on the uneven script.

  My dearest sister

  In the first words of this letter I wish to assure you that here at Longbourn we are all well and in good health, including Papa.

  Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief, her heartbeat calming down. She read more.

  My dearest Lizzy, I fear that I have nothing good to write to you, but on the contrary! Last night we received quite shocking and unexpected news concerning Lydia. Our youngest sister decided to elope. Two days ago at night she escaped Colonel Forster’s house and gave herself into the hands of Mr. Wickham. She left a letter where she explained that she loved him and that they were on their way to London and later to Gretna Green!

  You should imagine how very much surprised we all are. Papa travelled to London this morning, hoping to find them. He fears that Mr. Wickham will not wish to marry Lydia, as she has no dowry, and the elopement is a way for him to escape from his debts that he left behind him in Meryton and we hear that in Brighton as well. I must admit that I have a very bad feeling about this. Poor Lydia, poor stupid girl!

  I beg you sister to discuss this matter with Mr. Gardiner and ask for his help. He knows London so much better than Papa.

  Forgive me the shortness of this letter, but I must return to Mama. She has been in hysterics since yesterday.

  I hope that this unfortunate letter found you in good health, Lizzy, as well as Mr. Darcy and Miss Georgiana.

  Your loving sister,

  Jane Bennet.

  Elizabeth reread the letter more than once, not quite believing in Jane’s words. Lydia and Mr. Wickham? How could it be possible? Lydia had chased and favoured many officers, and Wickham was among them. Nevertheless, she had never paid any special attention to him. Or had she? Elizabeth began to remember all their previous interactions, and indeed there had been a few moments when Lydia had stared at Wickham or demanded his attention in her brazen and wild way. Was that enough to elope with him?

 
Elizabeth agreed with Jane that Wickham could not wish to marry Lydia. Her sister was ruined! Their entire family was disgraced. Elizabeth had disliked the idea of Lydia visiting Brighton with the regiment in the first place. The girl needed a firm hand and guidance, not a summer spent away from the family but in the company of a full regiment of militia. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had been already married and on her way to Pemberley when the decision had been made. Thus she had not had any real possibility of influencing her father to keep the youngest daughter home.

  “My uncle, I need to see my uncle,” she whispered, rising to her feet. She expected to find him at one of the lakes or the stream, as fishing was his favourite pastime during his stay at Pemberley.

  In the doorway to her study she ran into the imposing figure of her husband.

  “What is the matter?” he cried on seeing her.

  Only then Elizabeth realized that the ink on the page of Jane’s letter was smudged in places from her tears and she herself was sobbing quite loudly.

  “I need to find my uncle,” she managed to say, trying to push past Darcy, but he placed his hands on her arms, keeping her in place.

  “You will not go anywhere in such a condition.” He walked her to a sofa and sat her down. “What is the matter?” he enquired.

  “I received such dreadful news from home,” she revealed, a new sob erupting from her chest.

  Darcy brought her head to his chest, stroking her back. “He was ill. I know very well what you feel now, but you must have expected that he would pass away, although perhaps not so soon...” His tone was tender and soothing, but Elizabeth interrupted him before he could say more.

  She looked up at him. “My father is well. It is about Lydia.”

  He frowned. “Your youngest sister?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “She decided to abandon her friends and family. She eloped two days ago from Brighton, where she had stayed as a guest of Colonel Forster and his wife. She left a letter. She wrote about their plans to go to London and later to Gretna Green. Papa went to London to look for them, but I know that nothing can be done. Mr. Wickham never hid from me that in his situation he needed to marry into a considerable fortune, whilst Lydia has nothing.”

  Suddenly Darcy pulled away from her. “Wickham? You said that she had eloped with Wickham.”

  Elizabeth handed him the letter from Jane, which he scanned quickly. “Stupid Lydia, poor and stupid girl,” she whispered.

  Darcy was silent for a longer while, rereading the letter several times, a heavy frown gracing his forehead.

  Elizabeth gazed at her husband with fear. She expected him to laugh or ridicule her sister’s plight, but he did something entirely different.

  “Do not fret over this. I will go to London. I will find Wickham. I know him well, his friends and the places he frequents. He will marry your sister.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth fell open in a rather inelegant way. “I cannot believe that you would do that for her.”

  “Not for her, but for you. Wickham is a cad, and had I revealed his true nature to the world this would have never happened, as he would have never been accepted not only into the militia but to any decent home.”

  Leaning down, he kissed her forehead shortly. It was the first truly tender gesture on his part since their argument over Mr. Coleman.

  “I will go to look for Mr. Gardiner. His presence may be needed once I find Wickham and Lydia in London. Go to your aunt now. Her voice of reason will help you to put matters into the right perspective.”

  Elizabeth stared after her husband’s retreating form. Darcy wished to help Lydia; he was ready to spare his time and energy to rescue her from scandal and ridicule. She would have never expected this from him. She knew very little of a man whom she had married.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The weather was cold and windy, dark grey skies hanging low over the still, green park with specks of autumn gold in the leaves. The peaks of trees were merged with fog. Flower beds lost their bloom.

  The aura outside matched Elizabeth’s mood quite well. It seemed that beautiful summer had ended. Many of her new acquaintances here in Derbyshire, on hearing that she hailed from the south, thought it necessary to inform her how much colder winters and autumns were in the north. And indeed she felt as if the sunny days would never return. The Gardiners and their children were gone, leaving Pemberley quiet and a little lonely. The master of Pemberley was away as well. Almost three weeks had passed since his departure to London. Elizabeth and Georgiana were expecting him any day. In his last letter he promised to return immediately after Lydia’s wedding to Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth did not know how she would ever be able to repay him for everything he had done not only for Lydia, but in consequence for her entire family.

  “Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth turned away from the window to face Georgiana, entering the room.

  “What a gloomy day,” her sister complained.

  “Indeed it is,” Elizabeth concurred. “Mrs. Reynolds mentioned that the cook made a chocolate cake today. Perhaps we could enjoy some of it with tea to improve our moods.”

  Georgiana supported the idea, and soon they were sitting next to each other in comfortable armchairs, enjoying the refreshments. A soft blanket was draped around Elizabeth’s arms and back. She was dressed in a long-sleeved woollen dress, thick stockings, and abundant petticoats. And even though she was seated in front of the blazing fire, she felt quite a chill in the air. She had a strong suspicion that winter in Pemberley would not be as pleasant as the summer had been. The house was very large, with tall rooms and many windows, built of stone. The powerful fireplaces might not be enough to warm it properly. Now she understood well why Darcy had insisted on buying so many warmer clothes for her while they had stayed in London after their wedding.

  “Lizzy, there is a certain matter I think I should discuss with you,” Georgiana spoke, her voice so quiet that it could be barely heard. “Brother told me that you were not aware of it, and I would feel much better if you did.”

  “Is something the matter?”

  “It is my fault that your youngest sister eloped with Mr. Wickham,” Georgiana announced.

  Elizabeth gazed at the young girl with both confusion and astonishment. Had she heard right? “How can it be? You do not even know my sister.”

  “I do know Mr. Wickham, though. He is not the gentleman I once thought him to be.”

  A frown appeared on Elizabeth’s face. “I think that we are all aware of that. If not for Fitzwilliam, my sister would have been forever ruined. Had Mr. Wickham been a gentleman he would have never involved himself in such a scandal with a young woman almost fifteen years his junior.”

  “I knew of his true character a long time ago,” Georgiana admitted.

  Just then Elizabeth remembered the words Darcy had spoken to her before his departure in search of Wickham and Lydia. He had mentioned something about revealing Wickham’s true nature to the world. Wickham had always attempted to portray Darcy in the worst possible light. Was it because Darcy had been aware of his less than glorious past? Was it possible that Darcy had been aware of Wickham’s dishonourable habits well before the militia arrived to Meryton?

  “Last summer I was in Ramsgate with my then companion Mrs. Young,” Georgiana continued. “One day we met Mr. Wickham vacationing there as well. Mrs. Young invited him to walk with us, encouraging his company. I trusted him because I remembered him being at Pemberley when Papa had still been alive. Papa was fond of him, paid for his education.”

  As Georgiana talked, revealing her great secret, Elizabeth was already guessing what could have happened over a year ago at Ramsgate. Suddenly it was perfectly clear to her why Wickham disliked Darcy so much, spreading evil rumours about him.

  “Mr. Wickham convinced me that he cared for me. We planned to elope. Brother came on an unexpected visit, putting a stop to it. He made Mr. Wickham disappear. Mr. Wickham was only interested in my dowry.”

  “Oh, my dearest, what you
must have suffered,” Elizabeth whispered. Leaning forward, she pulled the girl into her arms. Georgiana began to cry, quiet sobs shaking her form.

  “Brother was not upset with me,” Georgiana explained as she calmed down. “He dismissed Mrs. Young and took me away to Scotland for two months before going to Netherfield with Mr. Bingley, where he met you. He thought that it would be best for my reputation to allow Mr. Wickham to go away without consequence. If brother had not been protecting me, Mr. Wickham’s true nature would have been revealed to the world. Your parents would have never accepted such a man into their home. Your sister would have never met him.”

  “What happened with my sister is not your fault. You do not know her. She is wild, careless and stupid. If not Mr. Wickham, she would have found another man willing to ruin her.”

  Georgiana gave her a cautious look. “You wish to make me feel better saying this.”

  “No, I am not. I doubt that you will ever meet Lydia, she is Mrs. Wickham now, and I cannot imagine that your brother would ever allow any person of that name into his house. If you asked anyone who knew her you would hear much about her frivolous nature. More than once I was ashamed of the way she conducted herself.”

  Georgiana sighed. “I pity your sister. She will be married to him.”

  “Yes, it is indeed a great misfortune, one that shall shape the rest of her life. Despite Lydia’s faults, I believe that she is too young to pay so dearly for her mistakes. My mother and father failed to care for her in a way that your brother cares about you. Your brother understands that together with love comes responsibility. My parents loved Lydia, but they never undertook the effort to control and protect her from the weakness of her nature and character.”

  ***

  Elizabeth was crossing the fields on her way from Lambton to Pemberley. As the weather had improved today, she had longed for a walk. She was dressed in one of her new coats, a deep green velvet one with fur cuffs and collar. It was warm, but the wind was so strong and so bitingly cold that there were moments when she regretted not choosing the one which was entirely lined with fur.