The Last Waltz: . . . another pride and prejudice journey of love (31 page)

But he feared his redemption was too little, too late. He had no one to blame but himself for his unsuitability. He knew, just as Darcy did, that he did not deserve someone as pure and as lovely as Georgiana. But that did not stop him from loving her.

Richard released a heavy sigh. The last thing he wanted was to speak with Georgiana regarding her affections for another man. But he could think of no viable excuse to offer Darcy. “If you insist, I shall speak to her today.”

“Good. Then it is settled,” said Darcy with relief in his voice. Just at that moment, Georgiana entered the breakfast room. “Perhaps you should seize the moment,” Darcy quietly suggested as he nodded in Georgiana’s direction.

“Good morning, Fitzwilliam,” said Georgiana as she stifled a yawn. Then her eyes alit upon the colonel, and the rush of pleasure at seeing him was immediately revealed by her warm smile. “Richard! How wonderful it is to see you. I was so disappointed that you did not arrive in time to attend the ball, but you are here now, and I am so glad for it.”

“Good morning, Georgie,” he said, a trace of sadness in his voice.

“I had better go and make sure Bingley will be ready on time,” said Darcy as he excused himself from their company, giving Richard the privacy required for his talk with Georgiana.

“So, did you enjoy the ball, despite my absence?” Richard asked when they were alone.

“Oh yes, it was most excellent. But your attendance would have made it even more so.”

“Did not your brother dance with you?”

“Yes, of course, as did several other very nice young gentlemen, but I should have liked to have danced with you, Richard.”

She was not usually shy in Richard’s company, but she could feel her entire body blush.

“I would have enjoyed that too, Georgie,” replied Richard, his voice rough with emotion.

He cleared his throat, knowing he must somehow broach the uncomfortable subject that Darcy had coerced him into discussing.

“Your brother is under the impression that you have taken a fancy to someone. Is he mistaken, or have you met someone whom you care for?”

She inhaled a sharp breath and quickly looked down at her hands, unable to meet his eyes.

“Tell me, Georgie.
Is
there someone for whom you have feelings?”

“Please, Richard, I do not wish to discuss it, least of all with you!”

“Why not? It is a subject that clearly has you distressed, and you and I have always been able to discuss things openly.”

“I know, but this is just too . . . too . . .
embarrassing
.”

“It cannot be as bad as all that. After all, whoever it is, he must be a man of
noble
character to have captured your heart. I am sure he is someone wholly worthy of your affections.”

“Yes. Yes, he is,” she replied as she looked steadfastly into his eyes.

“Then tell me, Georgie,” he softly encouraged as he took her hand. “Your brother is worried about you . . . as am I. You know we both adore you and want only your happiness.”

Tears suddenly filled her eyes. “Oh, Richard, how can you not see? It is you! It is you that I care for. It is you that I love.”

Richard was stunned by her surprise. But as soon as he recovered from his initial shock, despite all of his self-professed objections to his suitability, all he wanted to do was kiss the sweet lips that had just admitted she loved him.

CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE

“I have heard that rain on your wedding day is a sign of good luck and a happy marriage,” said Elizabeth as she stood with Jane and their father in the vestibule of Meryton Church. All three turned in unison and looked out at the rain that had been falling for the past several hours.

“Well, if that is true, I shall have the happiest marriage in all of England,” replied Jane, as she gave her sister a weak smile.

“I did not need the rain to convince me of that, Jane. I could think of no two people who are more in love or better suited than you and Mr. Bingley.”

Jane gave Elizabeth another smile, but this time it reached all the way to her eyes. When they heard the music of a harpsichord begin to play, Mr. Bennet stepped forward, and Jane took his arm. Elizabeth preceded them as they began their procession down the aisle.

Despite the gloomy day, the church presented a bright and cheerful appearance. The fragrance of all the colourful floral arrangements that adorned the altar made one forget the stormy weather that prevailed outside.

As they approached the altar, Elizabeth’s eyes immediately focused upon Mr. Darcy. He stood beside Mr. Bingley, and his stare upon her was intense. The secret smile he gave her, however, told her it was not to find fault. He loved her, and Elizabeth no longer had any doubts as she shyly returned his smile.

When the ceremony had almost reached its conclusion, the bride and groom turned to each other and sealed their vows with a kiss. Darcy’s and Elizabeth’s eyes met, and they knew they were both thinking of the kisses they themselves had shared on the prior evening.

As the wedding party stood in the vestibule awaiting their carriages and looking out at the now tapering rain, Darcy furtively took hold of Elizabeth’s hand. “May I escort you to your carriage, Miss Bennet?” he said purely for the sake of propriety.

“You are too kind, sir. How very obliging of you,” she answered with the same decorum.

Darcy produced a Hanway, the wooden and canvas umbrella he had recently purchased in London, and positioned it over their heads as he escorted Elizabeth from the church.

When they reached the carriage, he looked down at her with love in his eyes, and impulsively he took her into his arms. He planted a soft kiss on her lips using the umbrella to conceal his impetuousness.

“You look lovely this morning, Elizabeth,” he murmured.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

“I should love to hear you say my name, Elizabeth.”

She shyly looked up at him. Then glancing around them, and seeing that they were hidden from the view of the others, she stood on tiptoes and whispered “Fitzwilliam” in his ear before daringly returning his kiss.

Darcy’s arm automatically tightened around her waist, drawing her closer as he eagerly responded. However, remembering the precariousness of their situation, with a reluctant sigh, he released her. Bingley’s recent advice was suddenly prominent in his thoughts. “Once we have your father’s blessing, I hope to plan our wedding soon, Elizabeth.”

She smiled up at him, and the warmth of her gaze conveyed that they were of like minds. “Tomorrow, at Longbourn,” Darcy said softly as the rest of the family approached the carriage. “Meet me in the morning on our usual path.”

********

Alyssa Marston entered the dimly lit shop, her aunt’s emerald necklace clutched tightly in her hand. It was the last item of any value that remained in her aunt’s jewel case. They had nothing left to sell, apart from the exquisite set of ivory and jade cameo broaches. But she had promised herself that no matter how desperate their financial situation became, she would never sell them. They were the only things she had left that had once belonged to her late mother.

Her aunt now resided with her and her ailing father as the London townhouse she had once owned had been sold months ago to pay back taxes. And now if her father could not hold off on the bank’s foreclosure of their estate that would be sold out from under them as well. Until she was safely wed, she must keep up the pretense of affluence that Mr. Clavering and his family believed them to possess. She feared if they knew of her family’s dire financial situation, they would never allow the wedding to proceed.

She could not let another chance to save her family from ruin slip through her fingers. She had cursed herself over and over again to have squandered the chance to marry Fitzwilliam Darcy. But the whirlwind of London society had taken her by storm and her conceit had been her undoing. How she wished she had it to do all over again. She would give anything to be back in Mr. Darcy’s good graces. She would gladly give up the title of Lady Clavering to have his forgiveness and once again be held in his high esteem.

It was more than just his handsome looks or his wealth that had made him so appealing. He was truly a gentleman of the very highest caliber, a man to be respected and admired. Oh, why had she acted so foolishly?

But she had always sensed the indifference on his part. Perhaps that was why she had behaved so imprudently. But to think that she had wasted such an opportunity on the likes of George Wickham only made her fall from grace that much more painful to bear. And now Mr. Wickham was back in her life and about to cause her havoc once again.

She handed the article of jewelry over to Mr. Morgan, who was well aware of her family’s penurious circumstances. He seemed to have no scruples about taking advantage of the situation, knowing she was desperate enough to accept almost any amount of money he offered for her aunt’s last remaining trinkets.

With his usual thoroughness, he examined the necklace for several minutes before pronouncing his verdict. “Fifteen hundred pounds, not a farthing more,” he proclaimed.

“What? Mr. Morgan, I know it is worth much more than
that
. Certainly it is worth at least two thousand pounds.”

“Fifteen hundred. Take it or leave it.”

Alyssa worried her lower lip. She needed two thousand pounds, and she needed it by six o’clock, or all would be lost.

She tried another approach. “Mr. Morgan, you know that I am betrothed to Mr. Clavering. We shall be married in little more than a sennight. What if I promise to buy back the necklace once we are wed, for let us say, three thousand pounds? Would you then be willing to pay me two thousand for it now?”

Mr. Morgan thought over this proposition very carefully. A one thousand pound profit in little more than a sennight was very tempting indeed; a two thousand pound profit would be even more so.

“I will pay you the two thousand pounds on the condition that you buy the necklace back for
four
thousand. That is, of course, unless someone offers me even more for it in the meantime. That is my best and final offer. And I will need you to sign an agreement stating so.”

With no other choice, she agreed to Mr. Morgan’s terms. She placed the pounds in her reticle and hurried from the shop to keep her six o’clock appointment.

It was still light when she arrived at the park, but the sun was quickly setting behind the trees. It soon would be dusk. He startled her as she rushed past the small monument of St. George.

“You are late,” he growled. Alyssa came to an abrupt halt at the sound of his voice. “I said six o’clock, and it is now quarter past,” he said as pulled out his pocket watch and waved it before her eyes to prove his point. “You are lucky I am in a patient mood this evening.”

“I had some difficulty raising the money. But I finally managed to get it all,” she replied as she eyed the watch with interest.

“I had no doubt that you would, Miss Marston.” As he was about to return the watch to his coat pocket, Alyssa restrained his hand.

“Wherever did you get such a fine looking watch, Mr. Wickham? Gold, is it not? I am sure it was quite expensive.”

“A token of gratitude from a past admirer,” he simpered. “Look,” he said as he turned the watch over in his hand, “it is even inscribed with my name,” he gloated, relishing in his own fictitious tale.

Alyssa read the familiar inscription, confirming her suspicions, and then looked up to meet his cold, hard eyes. “I cannot help but wonder just what you did to deserve such a handsome gift.”

A pompous smile was his only reply.

Alyssa then reached into her reticule and pulled out the two thousand pounds, handing it over to Wickham, who lost no time in counting it.

“I believe that concludes our association, Mr. Wickham.”

“I’m afraid not, Alyssa. Oh, this will do for your first installment, but I think my silence is worth a vast more than this trifling amount.”

“What do you mean? We had an agreement. You promised you would be out of my life forever if I paid you the two thousand pounds!”

“Ah, but that was before I learnt that you are betrothed to one of the richest men in England. Even Darcy’s fortune could not compare to Mr. Clavering’s.”

“I implore you, Mr. Wickham, to do as you promised. Go to Scotland and leave me in peace. Just take your money and go! What more do you want from me?”

“I think another two thousand pounds should secure my discretion, at least until you are married. After that, we will have to wait and see just how generous your new husband is with his fortune. But I am sure Mr. Clavering will find your charms as equally engaging as I did.”

“Mr. Wickham, it is impossible for me to raise another two thousand pounds.”

“Come, now Alyssa; you are a clever girl. I am sure you will think of some way to get it. I will give you another two days. We will meet here at the same time.”

“No, that will not do. Mr. Clavering and his mother are dining with my father and me that evening. Perhaps I can meet you later, after they have gone. I will meet you here at ten o’clock.”

“As you wish. And Alyssa, make sure that you are not again late. I may not be as patient next time as I was tonight.”

********

Charles Bingley led his new bride up the winding staircase at Netherfield. They had just left the parlour where their remaining guests had gathered after dinner to enjoy some coffee and lemon tarts. Caroline and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had left for London immediately following the ceremony, taking advantage of the brief lull in the stormy weather. Georgiana had retired for the evening an hour earlier, claiming a headache. Only Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam still occupied the room.

As Bingley took Jane’s hand, assisting her up the steps, he silently cursed the blasted weather for their situation. By now they should have been secluded at the quaint country inn where they had planned to spend their first night as man and wife, but the rains had returned with a fury and road conditions forced them to delay their departure until morning.

It was his hope that Jane had not witnessed the devilish grin on Colonel Fitzwilliam’s face as he recommended that the newlyweds retire early in preparation for their long journey in the morning. Bingley was sure that his demure wife would have turned red with embarrassment if she had. Thankfully, she seemed unaware of the colonel’s inappropriate behaviour.

And was it just his imagination, or had Darcy smiled just a bit too broadly when he had wished them both a most pleasant evening as they had left the parlour? He could only imagine his sweet Jane’s discomfiture at such a display.

And what about the morning? Bingley literally startled at the thought. Would his innocent bride be mortified knowing that Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam knew of their nighttime activities? Oh why did the weather have to spoil their plans? This would not do. No, this would not do at all.

He stole a glance at his lovely wife as she quietly took the steps beside him. She seemed her usual serene self, but he was sure her calm demeanour was only a façade. Perhaps they should postpone their wedding night until they were far away from Netherfield and his so called friends. Surely Jane must be feeling uneasy regarding the entire situation. Yes, that would be the wise thing to do. He was sure his new bride would be grateful to him for saving her from any humiliation.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Bingley led her to the door of her bedchamber. With herculean restraint, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “I shall see you in the morning, dear Jane,” he said as he leaned forward and chastely kissed her on the cheek. “I wish you a good night and sweet dreams.”

Jane looked up in bewilderment at her new husband. “Whatever do you mean, Charles? We are now husband and wife. Are you not joining me in my bedchamber?”

Bingley looked stunned by her exceedingly bold question. “I . . . I just assumed due to our current circumstances that you would prefer to wait . . .”

Jane’s arms instinctively wrapped around her husband’s neck and the next moment her lips were upon his, truncating his reply. “I
have
been waiting, Charles, for eight months,” she murmured as she again brought her lips to his.

It was at the very moment that Jane opened the door to her bedchamber and led him inside that Bingley comprehended that he did not know a thing about women at all.