Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (15 page)

“Oh but Lizzy, he is awful!”

“But on paper, he probably looks very good.”  She let go of Jane’s hand as the hurt and anger overtook her again.  “I had no ability to confront him further when he dismissed me.  He . . . he looked so defeated; I just do not understand why he would not embrace this opportunity for me.  Or why he would allow so many to believe such terrible things of me and Fitzwilliam.  Those questions beg to be answered.”  Resting her head back on her knees, she stared out at the rain.  “He asked me to go.  He expressed hope that all of his misgivings were proven wrong and that Mr. Bingley’s declarations of support for his friend were faultless.  He mentioned that Mama had berated him last night for making our family look poorly in Mr. Bingley’s eyes for your sake, Jane.”

“She is unstoppable.”  Jane murmured as a blush crept up her cheeks.  They lapsed into silence, listening to the rain.

“Lizzy?”  Mary quietly entered the room and sat awkwardly beside her.  “Are you well?”

“I do not know.”  Elizabeth said softly and saw Mary’s stricken face.  “I am sorry.”  She sat up and wiped her eyes.  “I am just feeling sorry for myself, I suppose.”

“Why?”

Elizabeth’s mouth opened and closed.  “It is difficult to explain.”

“But you are marrying Mr. Darcy a week from now.”  Mary urged.  “Do you not want to anymore?”

“Of course I do, if he will still take me.  This experience has shown me what he sees so clearly.  Now I understand his disdain for the people he has met here.  Even if his opinion was poorly displayed, it is unquestionably deserved.”

Mary’s brow creased.  “I heard Charlotte saying that he really does not have to be kind, he is not a resident and he is far above us all.”

“The rich are free to give offence where they wish.”  Elizabeth said softly, remembering her own words at the Assembly.  “Mr. Darcy . . . well yes, he was offensive, but I believe it was unconsciously done.  He has a great weight to bear, so many responsibilities.”  Again her thoughts drifted to wondering over his troubles.  “How can I possibly help him?  His family clearly does not want me.  I shall be a burden to him, I will not be able to help his sister as he wishes, and I will be unable to fulfil my role as his wife.”  She looked down at her hands.  “I scarce know what is needed to make Longbourn run smoothly, what am I to do at Pemberley, and another home in London?”  Her tears began to fall again.  “And I still do not know why he needs me.”

“But he does need you.”  Jane hugged her.  “And all of this other talk by the neighbourhood, you know it is jealousy.  Mr. Darcy is among the richest young men in England, and here he wants you.  He came to Hertfordshire in a mind to marry outside of his circle and you were the one he chose.  Small wonder they are so cruel.  If you think about it, you have two men fighting over you.  How many of these mothers would kill for such an opportunity?”

“Jane, did you just say something unkind?”  Elizabeth smiled a little. 

“There, did it work?”  She hugged her.  “Lizzy, whatever they said about you will make no difference when the proof of Mr. Darcy’s commitment is before them.  Nothing will quiet them faster than seeing you two dancing together at the ball.”

Blushing, Elizabeth rested her head back on her knees.  “If only I had said yes when he asked me before.”

“If only he had asked in the first place.”  Jane nudged her. 

“Look.”  Mary jumped.  “Lizzy, look, a man on a horse!” 

Elizabeth looked up to the window.  “Oh!”  She spun around and flew from the room. 

Darcy jumped down, tossing the reins over the porch railing, and forgoing every lesson of proper conduct he had ever been taught, opened the front door and strode inside.  Dripping wet, he brushed his hair from his eyes and scanned the space, unsure of where to go but determined to find Elizabeth immediately.  Unable to hear sounds of occupation beyond the foyer with the storm raging just beyond the open door, he looked up when the clattering of shoes on the stairs caught his ear.  There was Elizabeth, running down and coming to a sudden halt one step from the bottom. 

Darcy drew in a sharp breath and felt an indescribable thrill, knowing that she was running to him.  As he took in the sight of her blotchy face, her reddened, swollen eyes, her hair in disarray and falling down around her shoulders in a mass of bouncing, shining curls . . . he spoke.  “Elizabeth.” 

Elizabeth stood still.  Before her was a man she barely recognized.  His soaked hair, muddy clothes, and unmistakable worry struck her hard, but as her heart started to pound, she pushed it aside and raised her chin.  “Can I trust you?”

Taken aback, Darcy quickly refocused and squaring his shoulders, approached until he stood directly in front of her, and looked her straight in the eye.  “Always.  I begged for your trust a week ago, now I beg for your forgiveness.  I have just learned of the torture you have endured, that I could have prevented so easily with a simple announcement, but I left you here to face . . .”

“No, I will not allow you to take on the burden of guilt for this.  It is not your fault that my father held his tongue; it is not your fault that the people of this neighbourhood are jealous.  It is not your fault that I spoke of you . . .”

“It is my fault for insulting you and making the people of this neighbourhood dislike me so much.”

“But they did like
me
, and yet they gleefully wondered if I had . . . captured you.”  Elizabeth looked down and missed the light that came into his eyes.

Darcy reached forward and took her hands into his grasp.  “You
did
capture me.”

“Oh.”

Silence fell as she studied his hands enveloping hers.  Darcy let go long enough to remove his gloves and immediately reclaimed her hands.  The warmth of her touch spread like a flame through his cold body.  Elizabeth drew a breath and bravely looked up to see that warmth now reaching his pale cheeks, “You will tell me why you chose me?  Today?”

“Now?”

“Yes, this moment.” 

“Will you reject me?”  He spoke in a whisper, but did not break the gaze.

“Have you harmed anyone, in any way?”

“No, Elizabeth, I have not.” 

“Will I be harmed?”

“Only you can answer that.” 

“Am I truly . . .” her voice caught and broke, “. . . your dearest Elizabeth?” 

“Oh.”  His lips lifted in his slight smile.  “Yes, dear Elizabeth, yes.”

“Then I will not reject you.”  A tear rolled down her cheek.

“And I will tell you everything.  And in return, I want you to tell me everything that has happened to you.  I do not tolerate disrespect.”  Darcy reached out his hand and wiped the tear away then looked longingly to her mouth, but returned to her eyes, and opening his arms, Elizabeth fell into his embrace.  He pulled her tightly to his chest, closing his eyes and kissing her hair.  “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I am grateful I still have you to trust.  My world has turned upside down in the last week.”

Darcy smiled at last, and caressed her cheek as she studied his gentle eyes.  “Welcome to the world I have inhabited for months, well really for five years since my father died.  I am so sorry, Elizabeth.  I wanted to see to my needs so quickly that I did not think of you, and what you would be facing.  The last thought on my mind was that you would be doing anything other than enjoying a week of . . . hearing your mother’s praises and shopping for a gown.  It just shows how foolish I am, how selfish I am.  I should have attended church with you and stood up to announce our engagement before the neighbourhood before leaving for London.  I apologize, I failed you.”

“Perhaps you were too anxious to leave, I admit to feeling somewhat abandoned and off-balance, but neither of us could have anticipated anyone else’s behaviour.”   Smiling she touched his cheek, and traced her fingers to the cleft in his chin.  He drew a breath and felt the thrill again travel his spine. 

“You have been in my thoughts nearly every waking moment.”

Elizabeth blushed then raised her brow.  “Not every moment?” 

Softly he laughed.  “Forgive me, Elizabeth.  Occasionally other thoughts did intrude.”

“Unforgiveable, sir.” 

“May I beg forgiveness?  What is my penance?”

“Penance?”  Elizabeth laughed, and blushed again as his eyes kindled with the sound and took on a warmth she had never seen before.  “May I consider this, Fitzwilliam?”

“If you will promise to always call me by name, you may take forever.”  Cupping her face in his hands, he looked again to her lips, and began to lean forward.

“Is it so unusual for you to be called by name?  I have heard it spoken.”

“You have?”  His brow creased and he drew back.  “Bingley?”

“No, your aunt and cousin.”  Her smile faltered as his face became dark.  “They were here yesterday.”

“They came
here
?”  Darcy’s eyes searched hers.  “To what purpose?”

“To demand that I give you up.”

“Good Lord.” 

Elizabeth drew courage from his absolute and obvious disgust.  “It seems, sir, that you and Miss de Bourgh were formed for each other.”

“If ever there was any doubt that they were here, that statement confirms it.”  He shook his head and closed his eyes, “And no, I did not doubt you, so do not jump upon my words, please.  I want to know every detail, but until then please know that whatever they said to you, understand it was said out of misplaced possession and extreme disappointment.  Whatever you said to them, I pray was as strong as anything you ever delivered to me.” 

Her mouth opened in surprise.  “Mr. Darcy, I have realized in the past few days that I seem to draw upon my wit when I am frightened or defensive, but when I am attempting to protect, it fails me completely.” 

“I thought I was to be called Fitzwilliam.”  He said softly and caressed her cheek gently.  “So all of our arguments arose from you being frightened?  Why would I scare you?”

“You are the . . .” Elizabeth’s breath caught and a smile appeared.  “No, I will not tell you.”

He nearly snorted.  “Why not?”

“Because then you will know what I thought when I first spied you, and that is to be my secret.”  She nodded her head obstinately.

“Mule.”

“Oh, yes.” 

Darcy laughed quietly, and traced his thumb over her lips.  “Are you frightened now, Elizabeth?” 

She visibly trembled with his touch.  “No, not now.” 

“Why?”

“Because for the first time since you left, I feel safe again.”  Darcy tucked her face to his chest and closed his eyes while he embraced her tighter than ever.  “Fitzwilliam?”

He kissed her hair.  “Thank you for saying you feel safe with me.”

“You are welcome.  Fitzwilliam?”

“Yes, dear Elizabeth.”

“You are wet.”

Darcy startled and looked down at her.  “Oh . . . I am so sorry!”  He let go and saw that her gown had absorbed the water from his saturated coat and the fabric, nearly white, was also now translucent and revealed that she wore no stays.  “Oh . . . Oh my . . .” He stared, transfixed.  “You . . . you must go and . . .” Elizabeth’s brow creased and looking down at herself, gasped. 

“Oh no!”  Spinning, she ran back up the stairs, and Darcy could not tear his eyes away.  When she reached the top she called down.  “Do not dare leave!”  He heard Jane exclaim something and a door slam shut.   He took several long, deep breaths, and seriously considered standing out in the rain.  

“Good God.”  He breathed unsteadily. 

“Mr. Darcy!”  Mrs. Bennet cried and he jumped.  “Why did nobody announce you or take your coat?  Look at this door, wide open!”   She bustled forward and shut it tight.  Suddenly the room became much quieter and all magic that had been in the air was effectively dissipated.  “Where is your carriage?  Surely you did not ride here?”  She glanced out of the window and saw the horse.  “Oh dear, I hope that you do not develop a cold, sir!   That is how Jane became ill, riding in the rain to Netherfield!”  She smiled and saw that he was blushing.  “Sir, are you ill already?”  Reaching up to feel his forehead, Darcy startled and stepped back. 

“I am fine, Mrs. Bennet.”  He cleared his throat and feeling that it was safe, he removed his overcoat.  “Perhaps this might sit by the fire to dry.”

“Well naturally!  Hill!  Hill!”  The housekeeper appeared and took away the coat and hat.  “Now, what of this topcoat?”  Mrs. Bennet touched the wool before he had a chance to react.  “Hmm, it is not too damp, but surely it is uncomfortable, and these breeches!”  She clucked.  “You look like Mr. Bennet in his younger days, home from a day of riding.”  She bent to examine them and embarrassed, Darcy stepped further away.

“Madam, I am sure that . . .”

“Nonsense, sir.  You will not be sitting about on my furniture in those breeches.  Come on now, follow me!”  She started up the stairs and turned to look at him.  “Oh very well, you go first.  All of this propriety, etiquette nonsense.” She muttered and waited.

“Where are you leading me, madam?”  He glanced up the stairs nervously and tried to recall which direction Elizabeth had dashed.

“You may put on a pair of my husband’s breeches while yours dry and can be brushed clean.  Now get on, sir!” Speechless, Darcy moved, feeling very much like a naughty boy being chased by his governess.  On the landing he followed her to a bedchamber and she waved her hand.  “Make use of the room, sir, and I will have Mr. Hill tend to you.”  

“Thank you, madam, but . . .” She closed the door and he was left alone in the small sitting room.  Cautiously, he walked forward and found a washstand and commode, and resignedly made use of both.  He was just drying his hands when a knock came and an older man entered, bearing a freshly pressed pair of breeches. 

“I think these will do for you, sir, Mr. Bennet is perhaps a half-foot shorter, but these were always a bit long on him.”  He lay them down and helped to remove the fine boots, and averted his eyes as the soiled buckskin breeches were stripped off.  “This will not take long, sir, there is a good strong fire in the kitchen, although, I am afraid that your coat and breeches may smell of mutton.  I can clean off these boots for you as well, sir.”