Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (95 page)

“No!”  She cried.

“Thank the Lord.” 

“He made me feel special.”  She said defensively, “I was feeling so unhappy with myself, my looks; and I felt that you had just . . . sent me away again, like you did when you sent me to school.  I thought that you were happier without me.  Especially this Season, you seemed to want to find a wife.” 

“Heaven forbid I want to marry.”  He spat then addressed her coldly.  “I sent you to school to be educated, not because you were in my way.  Father always intended for you to attend school for a time, to expose you to other girls and broaden your experience.  Since you had no sisters, he did not want you to be sheltered.  I was fulfilling the wishes that he explained to me.  I sent you to Ramsgate because I expected your friends to be there, and to experience a place you had never been before, to appreciate the joy of discovery.  I loved visiting the sea when I was your age.  Father thought that you would love it too, one day.”

“Papa wanted me to go?”  She said with her hand to her mouth.

Darcy stared at her.  “I am sure that I told you this, but it seems that you did not choose to listen.” 

“Your father wanted you to have opportunities.  How incredibly fortunate you were.”  Elizabeth said softly. 

 Nodding to Elizabeth, he snapped at his sister, “You took up with Wickham to spite me?  Was he one more toy for you?”  Feeling his anger mounting, he rubbed at the growing pain in his chest.

“Will.”  Elizabeth took his hand as his voice started to rise.

“I indulged her, and she learned to equate happiness with gifts.”  He glared at the pianoforte, “Wickham was a gift.  One she kept hidden and all to herself, a selfish indulgence.”

“He was not a sweet hidden under her pillow.” 

“That, my dear, is precisely what he was.”  Darcy let go of Elizabeth’s hand and strode to the fireplace to stare down at the burning blob of wax that had sealed Wickham’s letter.  “So, the day that he proposed was your wedding day.”

“Yes.”

He drew breath.  “And then you honeymooned.”

“We travelled from place to place, seeing the sights until we found a little cottage where we lived.  I asked when we would go to Pemberley.”

“And?”

“He said when our honeymoon was over.”

“Did it occur to you that it was over when you began emptying his chamber pot?”  Darcy said bitterly, then seeing Elizabeth’s eyes upon him, he waved his hand.

 “I think that we have heard enough for now.”  She said in a clear, calm voice.  “Fitzwilliam?”

He searched for words and looked back to the fire.  “I fear that further explanation will only make the situation worse and I pray that you, Georgiana, will one day comprehend the entirety of what has happened.”  He turned back to her.  “As you are still responding defensively, I feel that it remains nebulous to you.  If you have further things to say of your experiences, I beg that you speak of them to Elizabeth or your aunt.”  Georgiana nodded and he looked to Elizabeth.  “Forgive me, dearest, for this burden.” 

“I think that it is appropriate, you have heard far more than any man ever wishes to know.” 

“Yes.”  He sighed.  “I . . . regret not making my presence known sooner.”

“I am so sorry, Fitzwilliam.”  Georgiana said softly and standing; fled the room. 

Darcy stared at the closed door as it clicked shut.  “She left with him because he made her feel
special
?  What on earth did I make her feel?  Was I an ogre?”  He asked helplessly.

“I doubt that she knows the true answer, it is not a matter of your love being inadequate.  It is a different sort of love.”  Elizabeth walked to him, his arms wrapped around her and they held each other tightly.   “I can imagine her asking herself why daily.”

“Good.  I will have company then. I do not believe that she has any comprehension of the pain and despair that I endured.”   He murmured into her hair, “Should I go after her?  I honestly have no desire to.”

“No, you cannot run after her every time.  But there will have to come a point where we can be in the same room together without this subject arising or you both will always be on edge.  We have to move on from what she did to what she will do.”

“I am trying, I am.  I should have walked away when I heard you talking to her.  You are far better at conversation than I ever will be.  I will forever make a travesty out of a delicate situation.”  Elizabeth smiled softly and he kissed her, looking down into her warm concerned eyes. 

“If I hear more, do you want to hear it, too?” 

“No.”  He paused.  “You decide if I need to know.” 

“Very well.” 

“Is she like other girls her age?  Or is there something wanting in her?  How could she not know that it was wrong?”  He asked quietly.  “Would your sisters have done this?”

“I hope not, but after seeing Georgiana I suppose anything is possible.”  She smiled when his brow creased.  “Given sufficient motivation, the allure of a handsome man is difficult to resist.”

“
You
never would have fallen prey to one.”

Elizabeth laughed.  “I did fall prey to one.” 

He stared at her and demanded, “WHO?”

“You.” 

“Oh.”  Resting his forehead on hers, he let out a long sigh.  “That is not the same.  I did not prey on you.” 

“No, but you did sweep me off my feet and kiss me.  I agreed in an instant to marry a virtual stranger who had a very convincing story.”  Darcy’s eyes opened and he stared into hers.  “I love you.” 

“I love you.”  Darcy kissed her and at last found a semblance of calm.  “I came here to suggest we go riding but perhaps a walk in the sunshine would do just as well?  I am in desperate need of exercise.”

“I would love that!”  She smiled when he brightened.  “What are those letters?”

“Oh.”  Reluctantly he let her go while she sat down to gather them up.  “I have one from Bingley.”  His brow creased and looking around he sighed at the glowing coals.  “I had another one.”

“The one that met the fire?”  She sighed.  “I hope that you read it first?  Who was it from?”

“I do not know, at that moment I swear that I saw Wickham’s name.”

“I imagine that you conjured it.  He has no reason to contact you.” 

“If he did, it would certainly not be any subject that I would care to entertain.  It is a miracle that it arrived, the handwriting was so faint.”  He held up Bingley’s letter.  “Unlike this which is so clear.”

“This is an enormous slap in the face to whoever taught him penmanship.”  Elizabeth smiled when she looked over the envelope.  She held out her hand and he sank down next to her.  “Oh look, I have one from Jane . . . and Aunt Gardiner!” 

“I suppose that you wish to put off our walk so that you can read them now.” 

Their eyes met and held, and taking his letter, she added it to hers, “I think that they can wait.  Shall we walk?”

Darcy’s hand slipped behind her head and drew her forward to kiss.  “Please.” 

“I will just go and change my shoes.”   He pulled out his pocket watch.   Elizabeth laughed when she realized what he was doing.  “I will not be a moment.” 

“We will see about that.”  He arched a brow and looked at her pointedly.  “I am waiting.”

“Do not blink.”  Opening the door, she stepped into the hallway.  Her smile fell away and she closed her eyes for a moment before gathering herself and walking towards the stairs. 

“He did not come after me.” 

Startling, Elizabeth spotted Georgiana standing in an alcove.  Instantly any relief she felt from escaping the tension filled room was returned.  “No, he did not.  If you recall, he spent four months running after you, I think that he has had enough.”

“He raised his voice.”

“Yes.”  Exasperated Elizabeth’s hands landed on her hips.  “And every word he said was ‘I love you.’ Could you not hear that?  If you ever want to earn back his respect you are going to have to stop thinking only of yourself.”  She looked pointedly at her sister’s hand on her stomach.  “There are others to consider now.”

Georgiana hung her head as tears began to fall.  “Did I hurt him?” 

“I am curious what you thought was hurtful, Georgiana, because I am at an absolute loss as to which item was not.  If I were to choose, I would select the vitriol over him having the audacity to want to marry.”

“Oh.”

“And I have a growing suspicion that what was behind all of this was not you wanting to feel special or your awkwardness in becoming a woman, I think that it was pure, unadulterated jealousy.  You were jealous that your brother wanted to get married and start his family.  You would not have him all to yourself anymore, especially with him marrying a woman of your society who would surely be dragging him from one event to another.   You would be left with your companion.  Your father was gone, and you were on the verge of losing Fitzwilliam.”

“No . . . no . . .” 

“Then explain it to me.”  She crossed her arms.  “You made it very clear that I was not good enough for him.”

“I am sorry.” 

“I will say the same to you as I said to your Aunt Grace.  Do not apologize to me, apologize to your brother.” 

“Now?”  She looked at the door worriedly.

“No.”  Elizabeth sighed.  “No, I will not have you upsetting him further.  You truly need to think about what you need to say to him.  We cannot go on this way, Georgiana.  I have no desire to live in a house full of tension, and I did
not
like seeing Fitzwilliam rubbing his chest as if he was in pain,”  Georgiana’s eyes widened.  “If you want a friend to help you through what has to be a terrifying time for you, I will be glad to be that person, but if you do not treat my husband with the respect and care that he deserves, I will wash my hands of you.  You need to remember how fortunate you are to have a brother who loves you.”

“SHALL I TAKE YOU UP to Pemberley, Mother?  You have not visited in over a week.  I am sure that Georgiana is missing you.  And Elizabeth, too.”  Samuel smiled, “She is probably exasperated with her husband always at her side.” 

“I think that Elizabeth is quite capable of shooing him away for a minute of respite.  But you could go up and distract him for her.”  She smiled when he laughed.  “I think that I belong here.”  Susan nodded to the empty chair at the table where she was working.  As Samuel sat down, she chose a stem of pink straw flowers and added it to the arrangement she was making.  “Georgiana must come to terms with Elizabeth being her brother’s wife, and that will never happen if I am always there to be the buffer between them.”  He picked up a dried stem of wild carrot and twirled the delicate flower in his fingers.  “Samuel.” 

Starting, he handed it to her.  “Forgive me.” 

“No damage was done.”  She tilted her head and watched him pick up another and twirl it again.  “What is on your mind?”

“Georgiana.”  He admitted.  “I cannot do it, Mother.  I cannot marry her.  I cannot accept her baby.  I . . .  I hate to disappoint Father.  I know that this was a dream of his . . . I came home with the intention of looking at her with an open mind, but . . .”

Susan touched his arm.  “I understand, but this is your life, not his.  What made you so certain of your decision?”

He stood and placing his hands behind his back, he paced the room, finally coming to rest by the window to stare out at the brown and muddy landscape.  “Richard pointed things out about her that I hated hearing, but were sadly correct.  She may have been the victim of a scoundrel, but she willingly gave up her status when she consciously chose never to contact William during the entirety of the affair, from the first moment of Wickham’s acquaintance to the day that William found her.”  He turned to his mother and their eyes met.  “And frankly, I want to marry a woman.   I never would have considered a wife of Georgiana’s age if it was not for this tragedy, even with the substantial dowry.  Perhaps if this had not happened and it was four or five years from now . . . I like her, she is very sweet, but . . . ”

“I think that you have been influenced by your new cousin.”  She smiled to see his cheeks pink.

“How could I not be?  I am struck by the power of a love match.  But I would have thought the same even if Darcy had not found Elizabeth.”  He rested his hand on the back of the chair.  “Georgiana’s situation is sad, and her brother is doing the absolute best he can for her, but she remains unwelcoming of Elizabeth, a woman who willingly married William with the knowledge of his original intentions.  She has sacrificed a great deal to become mistress.”

“And will continue to do so when this child is born.”

Samuel’s brow creased.  “It will not be theirs.  They will go on to have their own children.” 

“Do you see Elizabeth abdicating responsibility of that child to a nurse?”  Susan smiled sadly.  “No, that woman is deeply compassionate; she will care for the child as her own.  She stated that to Georgiana when Fitzwilliam told her their plans.  That worries me.”

“Why?”  Taking his seat, Samuel studied his mother intently. 

“Fitzwilliam, I fear, will have a very hard time accepting the baby.  It will be for him the same constant reminder of Georgiana’s downfall that it will be to her.”

“William is deeply committed to family; I do not see him rejecting it.  After all, his desire to save the child was the impetus behind his sudden proposal to Elizabeth.”

She sighed.  “I put it badly.   Elizabeth’s love will be for her husband first, but her compassion for this innocent child may bring out jealousy in Fitzwilliam, and even anger.  He might see the baby as coming between them.  That is something he might easily tolerate if it were his own son or daughter, but this child is not.  Fitzwilliam is hopelessly in love with Elizabeth, and he needs her more than he realizes to survive this situation.  I must speak to her about this.  She must not make the same mistakes I did.”

“Mistakes?”  Samuel asked.  “If it is a matter of love, Mother, I would say that Elizabeth is as hopelessly in love as William is.  What mistakes did you make?”

Susan spoke softly, “When your brothers and sisters were lost, I did not turn to your father.  I did not want to add to his grief by sharing mine.  So I kept it inside and pretended to be strong.  I put all of my focus on you.  By doing that, I am afraid that he felt unneeded.  Instead of the two of us concentrating on loving each other through our pain I took care of my remaining child, and he . . . he was left to brood.”  Wiping her eyes, she picked up another stem.  “There is nothing quite as absolute as a man of Darcy blood when he broods.  It was terrible, years of the two of us feeling so very little, we were numb, I think.  I forgot how it felt to be happy.  Your father . . . he buried himself in his work.”