Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World (21 page)

He
frowned. "Why did you need to be convinced to eat?"

Elizabeth
busied her hands spreading the jam on her bread. How could she tell him it was
because she thought she had lost him? Last night he had spoken only of desire,
not of affection, and earlier he had said he did not wish to hear of love from
her. It was a cold reminder after the warmth of a night in his arms, but it was
well known that it took no particular affection on a man's part for him to take
his pleasure in a woman. "It was a passing phase," she said finally.

Darcy
tightened the belt on his robe. "I am glad it is past. Until later,
then." He departed through the adjoining door, leaving Elizabeth alone
once more.

By
early afternoon, the skies had clouded over, and a brief shower had left
raindrops sliding down the windowpanes. Inside the house, it was dark enough
that Elizabeth found it difficult to read until she lit a lamp, and even then
her mind would not remain on her book, but instead kept returning to the
previous night. She wondered whether it was on her husband's mind as well. He
had not made an appearance since leaving her earlier that morning, and she
found herself longing for his company. But did he long for hers, or view it as
an inconvenience in the light of day?

A
maid stepped into the sitting room and dropped a curtsey. "Mr. Bingley is
here, madam."

"Mr.
Bingley?" Elizabeth exclaimed. Setting aside her book, she rose to her
feet and straightened her skirt. What was Mr. Bingley doing at Pemberley? Darcy
had said nothing of a visit, but she remembered the false conclusion she had
reached when Georgiana first arrived at Pemberley.

This
time she would make no assumptions.

Bingley
had changed little since she had seen him last, nearly a year earlier. So much
had happened since the night of the Netherfield ball! She had been just a girl
then, a stranger to love and tragedy, and happy to believe the lies spoken by a
man with handsome manners. It was oddly unsettling to see someone from that
former life.

"Welcome
to Pemberley, Mr. Bingley," she said.

He
bowed. "Thank you, Miss Eliz ... pardon me, Mrs. Darcy."

She
smiled at his near error. "Please, be seated. Have you travelled
far?"

"From
Leicester today, but I left Netherfield two days ago."

"Netherfield?"
Elizabeth asked faintly. Had he returned to Meryton, then?

Her
thoughts immediately flew to Jane; Mr. Bingley must have seen something of her
family if he was at Netherfield. Her mother would make certain of that.
Suddenly she missed the gentle green slopes of Hertfordshire.

Because
of Lydia's shame, she would never again see the familiar rooms of Longbourn,
share secrets with Jane, or walk the shaded lanes she had loved.

But
there was nothing to be done for it. Her fi ngernails dug into her palm, but
she would not let her pain show. She was Darcy's wife and the mistress of
Pemberley, and she would not disgrace either of those titles. "I hope your
journey was an easy one."

Darcy's
tall form fi lled the doorframe. "Bingley! Th is is an unexpected
pleasure." He took a seat next to Elizabeth and favoured her with a warm
smile.

Bingley's
mouth tightened. "I am en route to Scarborough, and there is a matter I
wished to discuss with you."

"Of
course. You will stay the night at least, I hope?" Darcy's smile had
faded.

Elizabeth
looked from Bingley's uncharacteristically serious mien to her husband's
furrowed brow. Had they quarreled? Darcy had not mentioned anything of the
sort, but perhaps he was reluctant to remind her of Bingley.

"Perhaps,"
Bingley said.

It
must be a serious quarrel, then. Elizabeth rose to her feet. "If you will
excuse me, gentlemen. I hope I will see you at dinner, Mr. Bingley." She
left the room, closing the door behind her.

Darcy
watched as Bingley paced across the sitting room. He had never seen his friend
in this sort of agitation. "What is the matter?"

Bingley
swung to face him. "I forgave you when you told me you had hidden Miss
Bennet's presence in London from me. I forgave you for failing to tell me of
your engagement until you were safely married, even if I did not understand how
you could bind yourself to a family you said was beneath me. But now I see it
all--you never intended to have anything to do with the Bennets, did you? I
would never have thought it of you. Do you intend to cast me off , too, if I
marry Jane?"

"What
in God's name are you talking about, Bingley?"

"I
am talking about my Jane, with tears in her eyes, asking me if I had any news
of Elizabeth. How could you refuse to allow her contact with her family?"

Darcy
winced, all too aware that initially he would have been glad of such an
outcome. Elizabeth had been right to despise him. "I do not know what Miss
Bennet told you, but Elizabeth is perfectly free to communicate with her
family. Why, I dined with her aunt and uncle in London not a week ago."

"But
she wrote her family and told them not to contact her! I cannot believe that
Elizabeth, who walked three miles in the mud to be with Jane, is the one to
desire this separation."

"She
did nothing of the sort!" Even as he spoke the words, his heart sank.

Another
one of her ridiculous attempts to please him. "At least, not to my
knowledge, and certainly not on my direction."

"But
... " Bingley's shoulders slumped. "Jane would not lie to me. Perhaps
she misunderstood."

There
he was, the old biddable Bingley, once again believing him without question. He
did not deserve such a trust. "Perhaps Elizabeth can explain it. I cannot
speak for her."

Bingley
shot him an odd look, as if questioning that his wife might act without his
knowledge. But then Bingley did not know the true circumstances of his
marriage, or how very little Elizabeth confided in him. He owed Bingley more
honesty than he had given him. He rang a bell to summon a servant. "Let me
send for her so we can resolve this."

It
was several uncomfortable minutes before Elizabeth appeared. She appeared in
good spirits. Darcy hoped she would remain so after this discussion. After
their night together, the last thing he wanted was to risk her good opinion.

He
cleared his throat. "Elizabeth, Mr. Bingley has a concern I hoped you
could clarify. He thinks I have instructed you not to contact your
family."

She
bit her lip and glanced at Bingley. "That is not the case. I made the
decision myself after ... recent events."

So
it was true. "Without discussing it with me?"

Her
cheeks grew pale and she looked down, her hands clasping and unclasping in
front of her. Then without a word she turned and fled the room.

It
took him almost an hour to find her, and then only with the assistance of Lucy,
who informed him that her mistress often sat in the old grotto in the gardens.
She was not on the stone bench there, as he would have expected, but just
before giving up, he spotted a corner of sky-blue fabric by the big elm tree.
He circled the trunk to discover Elizabeth seated on the damp ground, her head
tipped back against the uneven bark, her eyes closed. Her face was
tear-streaked.

Once
again he had made her cry, just when he had begun to think there might be hope
for them. She did not love him; he knew that much. He supposed she must have
developed some sort of affection for him--after all, she was naturally
affectionate, as he had seen when she came to Netherfield to care for her
sister, and there was no one apart from him and Georgiana for her to attach
herself to now. But despite the night they had shared, she had shown no
inclination for his company during the day. It should be enough for him to have
Elizabeth in her former spirits and in his bed. Why did he always have to want
more than he could have?

He
knelt beside her and took her cool hand in both of his. "Elizabeth, I did
not intend to upset you." He did not understand her precipitate departure,
or what he had said to off end her. But after the solace of a night in her
arms, he could not bear to see her troubled, especially when he was at fault.

She
would never have taken such a step with her family had it not been for the
disapproval he had expressed earlier in their marriage.

She
opened her eyes and looked at him searchingly. "Did you expect me to lie
on your behalf?"

Now
he was completely baffled. "To lie? Of course not. I wanted to know the
truth."

"The
truth is that I did tell you about it, as you know well." A single tear
made its way down her cheek. "It is true, I suppose, you did not agree to
it, but you made no protest, either. Do not tell me you do not recall; you had
not taken laudanum in days."

He
shook his head helplessly. "As God is my witness, I do not recall. I would
not have agreed to it. I know what your family means to you."

Her
chin dropped, and he could see in her face that he had disappointed her yet
again. Desperately he said, "When did this happen? Perhaps I did not
understand."

"It
was the day I told you about Lydia's elopement. I gave you the letters from
Jane and Lydia, and I told you I had written to my family and asked them not to
contact me." Her voice was flat.

"When
I was reading the letters?"

"Yes."

He
could not bear to see her tears, so he gathered her into his arms. After all,
she had said that it comforted her when he held her. It did not matter that
whatever affection she bore him was half-hearted; it was enough, at least for
now, if only he did nothing to alienate her once more. If she forgave him this.
"Then the fault is mine. Many people, no doubt most, can attend to a
conversation while reading or doing something else; I am not one of them. I
thought you knew. You can ask Bingley; he will tell you many amusing stories of
how oblivious I can be. But it is not always amusing, as you have
discovered."

Her
head rested against his shoulder as if she were exhausted, but he felt an
enormous relief when her arms stole around him. He pressed a kiss against her
forehead. "Please, Elizabeth, will you write to your family tonight? I do
not want this misunderstanding to persist."

She
shook her head. "It is for the best this way. Even without the scandal,
there is your sister to consider."

"Georgiana?"

"She
told me of her history with Wickham. I cannot expose her to the comments my
mother and sisters might make."

"She
told you?" They must have indeed drawn closer while he was away, for
Georgiana to trust her with that information. "While your concern for her
is laudable, the cost to you is too high. In any case, it is immaterial.

Since
this business with your sister required your aunt and uncle to cancel their
tour, I invited them to join us here for Christmas."

Elizabeth
looked up at him, her fi ne eyes betraying her surprise. "You did?"

"Yes,
when I dined with them in London. So it is settled. I spoke to Bingley in
London, too, about your sister. I assume that is why he went to Netherfield."

She
said nothing, but her arms tightened around him. It was enough.

Georgiana
gazed out the window of the sitting room. The grey clouds looming over the
hills matched her mood. Why had her brother left her alone with their guest? He
knew how uncomfortable she felt acting as a hostess, even with someone she knew
as well as Mr. Bingley. It was not like him to abandon her, especially with
only a maid as chaperone. She hoped it was not because of any intentions he
might have for her future. A shiver travelled down her back. She did not want
to think of marrying anyone, even a pleasant gentleman like Mr. Bingley. After
watching the discomfort between her brother and Elizabeth, she was not certain
she ever wanted to marry. If the frowns and silences she had seen when she first
arrived at Pemberley were what she could expect of a newly wed state, it held
no appeal for her. At least they had seemed more friendly since his trip to
London.

She
rallied herself to ask a question. "Will you be visiting family in
Scarborough, Mr. Bingley?"

"My
aunt and uncle. My cousin is to be married next week. My sisters are already
there, but I had unfinished business I needed to conclude."

"Do
you intend to stay long in the North?"

"Not
long; I hope to be back in London inside the month." Mr. Bingley was
staring off into the air, smiling as if he were thinking of something pleasant.

At
least Mr. Bingley seemed no more inclined to courtship than she was, if that
indeed was her brother's intention. She turned her eyes back to the window,
where she spotted two fi gures walking toward the house. Fitzwilliam and
Elizabeth. As she watched, her brother stopped to look down at his wife, his
countenance serious, then touched her cheek.

Elizabeth
turned to him and said something with a smile. Fitzwilliam's face seemed to
relax, then he bent to kiss her. Scandalized, Georgiana tore her eyes away.
Marriage had made her brother so unpredictable!

She
searched her mind for something to make conversation. "Does Miss Bingley
still favour the music of Mozart?" Inwardly, she scolded herself for
asking such a pointless, foolish question.

"I
could not say. I am embarrassed to say I do not know the music she plays, only
whether I like it or not," Bingley said ruefully.

Oh,
how could Fitzwilliam do this to her? If she had to marry, could it not at
least be to someone who could recognize the works of Mozart?

She
felt completely tongue-tied. Fortunately, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth appeared in
the doorway before the silence grew painfully long. Georgiana let out a sigh of
relief.

Her
brother advanced into the room. "I have solved your mystery, Bingley.