The Gypsy Blessing (15 page)

Forewarning of that event would have been useful!

His brilliant smile, displayed so often during this encounter, caused a great struggle within her—and what disobedient hands she owned! The only way she could be sure of keeping them from touching the unruly lock of hair that was always falling across his forehead had been to lock them behind her back.

Elizabeth
knew
she had not received a drawing of the scene that had just played out in this room, but the moment their fingers touched on the underside of the book, the effect was similar—time seemed to stand still. She wondered if he would have noticed had she given in and done something that would be improper whilst time played its trick. She must test the theory by doing something unusual for her during the next interruption of time to see if anyone commented on it.

When he had bowed and turned to leave, she had wished to tell him to stay with her all night so that they might continue their private conversation, but she knew saying so would be extremely improper.

Oh, whom am I trying to fool? Knowing that we would be happy together has influenced my reactions to Mr. Darcy, and
most
of my thoughts about him are improper! Would I have thought of him in such a way had I never received the gypsy’s blessing?

Trying to distract herself from these thoughts, she wondered if time had slowed at the moment their hands touched because one of the drawings would have occurred had she not acted to prevent it from happening. She had experienced a similar sensation at dawn the morning before, when she knew the duel would have taken place if circumstances had been different. She looked at the clock and shook her head. She could not imagine that any of the other drawings would have taken place in the middle of the night, as it was now.

She shook her head to rid herself of these musings and rose from the chair to return to her rooms.

~

His blood boiling, Darcy walked directly to his chamber and locked the door behind him. He threw himself into a chair by the fire.

Bittersweet
—yes, that was the word he had been looking for, which proved that his mind had begun to function once again after ceasing to serve him altogether when he had touched her skin and she had looked at him with those expressive, fine eyes, sparkling in that particular way that made his heart lurch.

Elizabeth has never even hinted towards an attraction to me before tonight, and yet right from the very beginning, she has tempted me beyond measure. I have resisted women with far more beauty, grace, and sophistication—some well skilled in the art of seduction—with less difficulty than I have in simply tearing my gaze away from this country miss. Yes, I have always been proud of behaving in a gentleman-like manner under any circumstance, yet when I am near her, I suddenly wish to behave like a rake! I must resist and rein in this insane attraction for my sister’s friend.

Elizabeth’s protection was entrusted to him, after all, which was the only thought that kept him from making advances just now. For Georgiana’s sake, for his own—for Elizabeth’s—he would stamp out the almost overwhelming longing to taste the lips that moved so enticingly when she spoke, when she smiled. He would steadily defy the demanding urge to sample the creamy softness of her skin and to trace the delicate arch of her neck—which had almost driven him mad this evening whilst she had leaned over the pianoforte, searching for a song to perform. Somehow, he would douse the persistent desire to gather her in his arms and press her against him, as he had experienced briefly at their first meeting.

Launching himself from the chair, he brought a candle close to a mirror. Whilst staring himself in the eyes, he vowed, “Elizabeth’s trust in me will not be in vain!”

Chapter 9

August 14, 1811

Mrs. Younge splashed her face with cool water, rinsing the tears from her cheeks. Looking up at her reflection, she could not help but notice her swollen eyes and raw nose, which were the result of her numerous fits of despair over the past few days.

Although she did not have the cold that she had used as an excuse for her absence from company, her deep melancholy had actually caused her to become ill. On the rare occasions that she had tried to venture out of her rooms, she could not maintain control over her emotions for any length of time and had to excuse herself. Consequently, she had spent much of her time in her room, mourning all that she had lost the moment that Wickham learned of the condition on Miss Darcy’s dowry.

Mrs. Younge tried to blink away the tears pricking at her eyelids as she thought back to the time when, several months ago, Wickham had come to her to share some interesting news: Mr. Darcy was looking for a companion for his young sister. He then laid out the general idea of his scheme—with her help, he would elope with Miss Darcy and gain control of the girl’s fortune of thirty thousand pounds.

Before agreeing to his plan, she had added her own conditions. After consummating the marriage, the heiress, at her insistence, would be his wife in name only. Mrs. Younge would be his lover and his friend.

She would not be the one to take his name, but their relationship would entail much more than his stopping by her house between other assignations. In return for her cooperation with the plan, Wickham had promised to remain with her and take care of her “in the style that she had always deserved.” And so, Mrs. Younge had hardened herself to the task so she could achieve her reward—what she looked forward to as being her own piece of heaven on earth.

Mrs. Younge had found no trouble in being chosen for the position after Wickham instructed her on exactly how to behave to gain favour in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. Things were going on splendidly; never had either of the Darcys suspected anything malevolent was afoot. In the end, despite all her hard work, deceits, and play-acting, everything had gone sour.

When Mr. Darcy had appeared in Ramsgate, it had crushed any hope to which Mrs. Younge so desperately clung. Thinking she would escape from Ramsgate with Wickham during the night, she had excused herself from company, packed a small bag, and slipped out of the house. But when she had arrived at the inn where Wickham had been staying, she found he had already abandoned her. This behaviour was so unlike what he had done in the past that she felt no hope of ever seeing her lover again.

With nowhere else to go, she had returned to the Darcys’ house.

Her throat tightened with sorrow, returning her awareness to the present. After several moments of staring at her red-rimmed eyes in the mirror, a spark of hope lit within. She still had her position—at least that was something. She should be relieved that nobody suspected the part she had played in Wickham’s scheme.

Mr. Darcy was an honourable man—the only guardian of any of her charges who had not made advances, expecting more from her than she was willing to give. The position paid well, and she was given time to herself whenever Miss Darcy was otherwise occupied with her brother. When Miss Darcy visited with her aunt, Mrs. Younge was permitted several days on her own.

Truly, she could not find a better position. Her life would be better if she did not seek new employment upon arriving at London.

“This is the only option; I must move on and survive without Wickham!”

~%~

August 16, 1811

“Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?”

Darcy’s gaze darted from the volume of
Hero and Leander
on his lap to the lady sitting across from him. With Elizabeth absorbed in her book and Georgiana sleeping, he deemed discovery of his inspection unlikely and took full advantage.

Elizabeth held her book angled to catch the light from the window of his coach, and her head was tilted in a way that displayed a good portion of her elegant neck most invitingly. His pulse increased its pace.

Since Elizabeth had been staying with them at Ramsgate, he had truly enjoyed spending time with her, conversing and learning her ways, but observing her as she perused a book gave him the most pleasure. Unlike her time spent in any form of society where she was careful to mask her innermost feelings, as she read a book, Elizabeth unwittingly permitted her countenance to register every emotion she felt.

Just now, her expression was at first serious, but then one eyebrow daintily arched before the skin around her eyes and mouth crinkled with mirth, and her shoulders shook slightly with a silent chuckle as she turned the page. Although he had no inkling as to the cause of her delight, warmth spread through him. He smiled with her. His smile widened when he realized that among all the other scents he could detect in the carriage, he could discriminate Elizabeth’s fragrance among them. Closing his eyes, he thought back over the past week.

After some slight discomfort the morning following their meeting in the study, the remainder of their stay at Ramsgate had been practically flawless. Elizabeth had been the perfect companion for Georgiana—any time his sister had begun to fall into melancholy thinking of Wickham, Elizabeth had teased her out of it. As Elizabeth had been in residence at Ramsgate for several weeks, she was able to suggest a number of places to visit that Darcy would never have taken his sister without Elizabeth’s guidance. Not surprising to him, these outings proved her tastes ran similar to his own.

The first stage of their trip to London had amazed Georgiana even more than himself. Having Elizabeth along had even lessened his aversion to travelling—at least for this journey.

Elizabeth was good for both of them. It was delightful to spend some time thinking of things other than business and worries. Neither he nor Georgiana had smiled, let alone laughed, so much for years. In fact, portions of his being that had felt empty since the loss of his mother finally came alive again. Forgotten segments of his nature, drowned by the sudden onslaught of crushing responsibilities beginning the day his father had died, returned to the foreground. He felt almost complete... almost. Every time Elizabeth’s eyes flashed in his direction, his need to have her nearby grew, as did his conviction to conceal his feelings for her.

Much like Hero’s duty to make every sacrifice for Venus in Christopher Marlowe’s interpretation of the Greek myth he had been reading, Darcy had an obligation to sacrifice his happiness in order to add to his family’s wealth and consequence with any match he made. His parents had been fortunate in their choice, learning to care for each other deeply over time, but after years of searching the
ton
, he had already resigned his expectations of the same for himself. Rarely had he met a woman among them with whom he could willingly spend any amount of time, let alone one that he longed to be near.

Although Elizabeth met all of his own requirements for his wife, she met none of society’s expectations. Over the past week, he would not listen to his logical mind, pressuring him to stay away from her, for he knew that once they returned to London, he would have to avoid her and attempt never to see her again. To shun her presence even for one moment in Ramsgate would have robbed his heart of memories he was sure to cherish forever.

Darcy heard a noise and opened his eyes, feasting on the sight of Elizabeth laughing quietly.

Even
I
fell in love at first sight.

~%~

August 19, 1811

The sound of the door opening caused Darcy to look up from his newspaper. The wave of disappointment that came over him at seeing his sister enter the room without her friend startled him with its strength. He folded his newspaper and stood in greeting. “Good morning, Georgie.”

Georgiana crossed the room to her usual seat at his right as she answered, “Good morning, Fitzwilliam.”

Once the footman had helped her with her chair, Darcy waved him off, settling into his own chair and waiting until they were alone to speak again. “Did you sleep well, Poppet?”

She replied as she reached for a slice of toast, “It is always nice to return to one’s own bed.” She looked up from spreading marmalade. “Do you think it is silly to miss Lizzy already?”

Darcy’s breath caught, but he did not look up from his plate.
Is it that obvious?
Several moments passed while he took a sip of coffee to cover his discomposure before he dared to glance at Georgiana. When he did, he realized with relief that she had spoken of her own discomfort, not his. “It cannot be silly to desire the company of a friend.”

“May I ask Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, and Lizzy for tea today, Brother?”

“Are you quite sure you are well enough after travelling for two days?”

“I believe so,” Georgiana replied enthusiastically, but at seeing her brother raise his eyebrows, she continued in a more subdued manner, “but perhaps it would be more polite to send an invitation for tomorrow, instead.”

Darcy nodded
. Although I have too many business letters requiring a response to leave home today, tomorrow I will make certain to be at my club until well past tea time. I must distance myself from Elizabeth.

The butler entered the breakfast room with a silver tray holding a letter. Recognizing the handwriting, Darcy thought aloud, “James certainly made good time from Matlock!”

Cassidy replied, “James has not yet returned, sir. The letter came by a servant from Matlock House in London.”

“London?” Darcy broke the seal and scanned the missive as Cassidy bowed and retreated from the room. He read it aloud to his sister:

Dearest Nephew,

My informants tell me that yesterday you were seen at church in Town. Although I am quite surprised at hearing of Georgiana’s accompanying you, I am pleased, as well.

I write now to invite you both to dine with us this evening at Matlock House, at which time you may inform us of your reasons for revisiting London so soon.

Yours etc.

Aunt Adelaide

Georgiana’s sudden pallor betrayed her thoughts. She was not up to company just yet.

“Georgiana, you know I must explain the reason for our early return to Aunt Adelaide. Although she will not judge you harshly, for your sake, I will go alone this evening. You may pay a call on her tomorrow.”

~%~

August 19, 1811

Expecting a family dinner, Darcy groaned when his coach experienced a delay in approaching Matlock House while another party stepped down from their carriage. At least he had a bit of warning to steel himself against the onslaught of single ladies his aunt had surely schemed to throw at him.

After greeting his aunt, uncle, and several others, Darcy stopped to address a friend from university who was standing among a group of gentlemen, one of whom asked, “What is
your
opinion of the latest news, Darcy?”

“I am sorry, Lord Allington; I have been out of town. Has there been a new development on the continent, perhaps?”

“No, no, I speak not of France, but closer to home,” Lord Allington replied. “Here in London there has been quite the scandal! I believe you are acquainted with Jules Alcock, are you not?”

“Yes, I do have that pleasure.” Darcy was confused when his comment amused the gentlemen.

“Alcock has attached himself to Miss Ramsey!”

Darcy searched his memory. “Do you mean Miss Muriel Ramsey of Toldsford Hall?”

“Aye, but apparently you are uninformed—she was left penniless when her father died, and she subsequently took up a position as a companion to Alcock’s daughter.” Lord Allington wiggled his eyebrows. “Apparently, she was companion to Alcock, as well.”

His spine stiffening, Darcy’s countenance displayed his outrage at the statement. “Excuse me.” Darcy bowed slightly and walked away, overhearing snippets of similar conversations from almost every grouping he passed. The ladies were even less forgiving than the gentlemen.

As he reached the window looking out over the Matlocks’ garden, Darcy wondered why their gossip bothered him more this evening than at any time in the past. His thoughts answered,
If I should marry Elizabeth,
this
is how they would speak of her—assuming she had married only to increase her social standing and wealth.
It had always struck him as amusing as they all did the same, while criticizing anyone who was not high-born.

Seeing his own pained expression in the reflection of the window, he was relieved to be facing away from the crowded room. A shudder ran up his spine.

Up until now, he had considered all ladies only in reference to how their connexions could improve his own or to what extent their dowries could add to his wealth. At each social engagement, he had paid close attention to each unmarried lady’s manners and accomplishments and had admired several for their beauty, exactly as he had been taught to do, but never could he imagine any of them at Darcy House or Pemberley as his wife. Since meeting Elizabeth, he often envisioned her by his side.
Socially, she is too far below me.

He felt a presence behind him and turned. “Aunt Adelaide—I apologize. I am...
distracted...
this evening.”