Unforgiving Temper (30 page)

Georgiana stopped once again, this time
turning to face her brother.

“There is no Lieutenant…and no picnic.”

“But I distinctly heard – ” Darcy stammered,
suddenly confused.

“What you heard was my attempt to get you to
talk to me. Remind me to thank Denham for his help,” the corners of
her mouth turned up in a wry smile, but her eyes held a deep
sadness.

Darcy blinked with sudden understanding.

“I am sorry to have exposed you to such
misery, Georgiana. It has just been so unexpected and so very
difficult,” he explained as he sat down next to her, taking her
hands in his. “Please try to be patient with me. There are
circumstances, which I cannot reveal, that make this all so
unbelievably complicated.”

“It is not your fault, you know. You cannot
continue to blame yourself.”

“It is my fault! You do not understand. I
failed Bingley, Miss Bennet – everyone,” Darcy muttered as he
turned from her. “She did not comprehend how perilous the situation
was. I should have acted sooner. I could have prevented it!”

“How could you? You and Mr. Bingley
offered to assist as soon as Miss Bennet asked.” When he
hesitated in his answer, she watched him closely for verification
of what she already knew. “It is not Miss Bennet, is it?”

“Of course it is Miss Bennet…and her
family.”

“Admit it, Fitzwilliam.”

“Admit what?” Darcy felt himself growing
uncomfortable. “There is nothing to admit.”

“There is!” Georgiana declared with
assurance. “For as long as I have been old enough to pay attention
to such things, I have never known you to show more than a passing
interest for any woman, let alone be so passionate as when you
offered your assistance to Miss Bennet.”

“If you think that I have any attraction for
Miss Bennet, you are very much mistaken, dear sister. I am not
in the habit of interfering in my friends' interests.”

“You know full well I am not talking about
Miss Bennet. I am talking about her sister.”

Darcy escaped to the window, looking outward
but not seeing anything beyond the smooth surface of the polished
glass. This was beyond belief. Why did Georgiana choose now to be
so perceptive – now when he was most vulnerable? The past three
days of punishing physical exercise and sleepless nights had left
his wounded heart raw and bleeding. To speak of Elizabeth now could
very well sever his precarious hold on sanity.

“Georgiana – ”

“I am not a child any longer,” she spoke
softly, coming to stand beside him. “Last summer was…was difficult;
but I believe I learned something very important. Matters of the
heart cannot be taken lightly.”

“Indeed they cannot.” He straightened and
turned to face her with hooded eyes, masking the pain that was his
constant companion. “And that is why I will tell you that even if I
had any interest in E…Miss Bennet's sister, it would not
matter. Not now.”

“Not now? And what if there were no rumors,
no gossip connected to Miss Elizabeth Bennet? What then?”

“Scandal or no, our circumstances were
already separated by an impossibly wide gulf. Even before this
business, her situation in life was wholly unsuited for any
possible alliance with Pemberley.”

Georgiana looked at him with a gentle frown.
“You cannot be serious! What is so very different that would
prevent you from pursuing a woman of your liking? She is a
gentleman's daughter and you are a gentleman. As far as I can tell,
you are equals. You have not the restraints of most men in search
of a wife. You are your own man, Fitzwilliam, independent in family
and fortune, and you need not answer to anyone.”

“It is all quite meaningless now, my dear,”
Darcy sighed. “Present circumstances will not permit me to even
entertain such an alliance.”

Taking one large hand in both of hers she
gently pulled him to the sofa, her heart pounding with the effort
it took to be so bold. Knowing his feelings ran much deeper than
she had suspected, she sat close and spoke quietly, “Your happiness
is the most important thing to me. Surely there is a way for you to
attain it.”

“No, there is not. I do not expect you to
understand, but as master of Pemberley, I have certain
responsibilities that must be considered. My own desires cannot
overshadow my obligations to Pemberley – to you.” A tinge of regret
crept into his voice as he raised his free hand and touched her
cheek. “Even if there were the slightest possibility, and the
family's poor situation could be overcome, this new matter makes it
impossible for me to marry her. I could not expose you to
that.”

Georgiana raised herself to look squarely
into her brother's eyes. “Fitzwilliam, you once saved
me
from a scandal and your love has not diminished, much as I do not
deserve it. Surely you can do the same for the woman I believe you
love.”

Darcy studied his sister with new eyes. When
had she come to be so grown up? He shuddered at the thought of last
summer's near-tragedy. Wickham's callous manipulation of her heart
could have haunted them both for the rest of her life; but no, she
had weathered the storm and somehow emerged stronger for it. Strong
enough to challenge his own heart.

“If you cannot forgive her and help her, then
I wonder what would have happened had George Wickham succeeded with
me. Would you have cast me off? Would I have never seen you again?
Is your love truly love or merely a conditional sentiment?”

Georgiana rose, giving a kiss to the hand she
still held before releasing it.

“My love for you is unconditional,
Fitzwilliam. Whatever happens, I will always love you and stand by
you; but you must make your own decision. Only you can say how much
you truly love Elizabeth Bennet.”

* * * *

With a low moan, Darcy rolled onto his back,
wincing at the pain in his leg. He was obviously injured, but he
could not think clearly enough to determine the extent of the harm
done. His head was spinning and he had the sensation of a great
weight sitting on his chest which prevented him from drawing a full
breath. Absently, he noted that the ground beneath him felt soft
and cool. He raised a hand from that coolness to clumsily brush
away the dirt and leaves clinging to his cheek and brow.

After some minutes, the spinning began to
recede and he opened his eyes, slitting them against the sunlight
that filtered through the branches he lay beneath. He tried to
recall what had happened, but his mind was still too addled to make
much sense. He settled for lying still and concentrating on his
breathing.

There was an odd silence, as if every
creature ceased their movement at the same instant. He thought
perhaps he had lost his hearing until a faint sound reached his
ears. It was the sound of voices, steadily growing louder –
high-pitched, female voices whose tenor rose and fell with excited
chatter. As they neared where he lay, he discerned two women of a
mature age, evidently on their way back from the village.

Still dazed, Darcy wondered if he should call
out for help, or if he was even capable of making a sound loud
enough to be heard as the ladies passed within ten feet of his
resting place among the undergrowth.

“…she hadn't any notion such a place existed
until she read about it. Can you imagine? And to think Elizabeth
Bennet would end up among the fallen angels,” the first woman
clucked. Her voice had a sharp, penetrating quality and Darcy's
mind conjured up a thin, pinched face to accompany it.

“Such a shame,” a much gentler voice replied.
“She was a lovely girl, she was; always kind to my David. She never
made him feel bad about his being so shy and all.”

“Well, maybe so,” came the first voice again,
“but she was more free-spirited than a girl ought to be, in my
opinion. Walking about the countryside by herself all the time. I
always knew it would come to no good.”

“Oh, yes, you may be right there. A girl
can't be going about so unguarded, she could put herself in the way
of danger quick enough.”

“I am not one to be making judgments, mind
you, but who is to say she did not go looking for it?”

“Oh, no, Mattie! I can't believe that of
Miss Elizabeth. Not in a thousand years!”

“Well, you can think what you want, Annie
Price, but you know what they say – the apple doesn't fall far from
the tree.”

“Er, yes, I suppose; but…um, what does an
apple have to do with Miss Elizabeth?”

“What I mean, dear friend, is that there may
be more than one Bennet who has been stepping out, so to speak. I
happen to know that my sister has been getting letters addressed to
Mr. William Bennet at Granley Cottage – in a lady's hand, no less!
I don't think the Mrs. would be sending letters to him there. They
been coming steady for weeks now. I'll wager he's got himself a
lady on the side. And if the father is a wanderin', then the
daughter might not be so very different.”

“Letters, you say!? My goodness, who would
have thought…”

The voices faded as the women turned a bend
in the lane and moved beyond Darcy's hearing.

Darcy had tried to rise at the sound of
Elizabeth's name, but the tilting of the landscape had kept him
where he was. With the ladies' departure, he let his head fall back
to the sodden ground with anguish as his memory of the day came
into focus.

It had begun with Georgiana's clever ploy to
draw him out of his room and confront him. She had forced him to
face the reality he had tried so hard to avoid since his return
from Brighton. It was too painful and he had sought escape once
again in a mind-numbing ride through Hertfordshire.

Emerging from a stand of hemlocks at
breakneck speed, he had urged his horse into the open field beyond.
It was a heady, reckless feeling. For a few moments, horse and
rider became one with no other thought than that of the ground
falling away beneath them. They crossed the field and charged into
the next stand of woods without slowing. But the pounding hooves
could not drown out the pounding thoughts that had invaded Darcy's
head nor the visions of Bingley and Georgiana. The more he had
tried to push them aside, the more they had multiplied into a
throbbing, excruciating tangle of guilt.

Still lying in the shrubbery, Darcy held his
unsteady head with both hands as the horrible thoughts came once
again. He could not escape Bingley's angry words nor his sister's
searching questions.

'I shall do all I can to find her, with or
without your help'… 'That night on the terrace has to mean
something'… 'Would you have cast me off?' …'Is your love truly love
or merely a conditional sentiment?'
He grimaced at the memory
of the unrelenting words.
'She still needs our help. If nothing
else, to ensure she is cared for properly'… 'Only you can say how
much you love Elizabeth Bennet'.

And then he remembered how he came to be
lying in the woods, injured and alone. Unbearable pain tearing at
his heart and mind, he had ridden on in a blind stupor, not really
seeing where he was going, nor even caring. He had not seen the
lane cutting across his path nor the hedge bordering it until it
was too late. The horse, having insufficient footing for the jump,
had balked at the hedge, skittering sideways and unseating its
rider. The forward momentum launched Darcy over the hedge, landing
him unceremoniously amid the shrubbery beyond.

Idiotic!
Darcy's anger at his own
reckless behavior cleared the remaining fog from his head and he
slowly rose to a sitting position, taking inventory of his
injuries. Except for a dull ache at the back of his head, he seemed
to be in full possession of his senses. Cautiously, he stretched
his shoulders up and back, one at a time, and found no serious
injury there. When his movements caused a fresh throbbing in his
ankle, he carefully examined the painful limb. It was not broken,
only sprained; but still unable to bear any weight.

With a snort of exasperation, he looked
around for his horse, hoping it was standing nearby. It was nowhere
to be found. Muttering angry words at his own careless stupidity,
he searched about for something substantial enough to support him.
At last he found a suitable piece of wood and raised himself off
the ground. With halting steps, he made his way to the lane and
began the long journey back to Netherfield.

Having nothing but the efforts of his steps
to occupy his mind, thoughts of Elizabeth returned. He recalled the
words of the two women and how quick they were to believe the
worst. His anger flared at the injustice of it. If they knew her,
and it seemed they did, how could they judge her so cruelly? To
think she would seek out disgrace was outrageous; and as for her
leaving herself unprotected, many a young woman could easily be
flattered by a man's handsome face and charming manners and be
misled into trusting him.

His thoughts went to his own sister and her
candid words earlier that day. Had Wickham succeeded last summer,
would he have turned away from her? Would he have stopped loving
her? The thought was too painful. No, he would not. He would always
love Georgiana, no matter what. He would do anything for her, even
if it meant accepting George Wickham into his life.

The realization of what Georgiana had been
trying to tell him struck Darcy with a sudden, violent force,
stopping him dead in the middle of the lane. Did he truly love
Elizabeth? He caught his breath at the thought of her. Her
captivating smile, her deep brown eyes that brightened with the
exercise she was so fond of or equally so when she was provoked,
the softness that transformed her face when she spoke of her
sister, her discerning measure of his character and teasing manner
that urged him to be a better man – all this and more cried out to
be loved. Yes, he acknowledged that he loved her even as he saw
with vivid clarity what a proud, arrogant fool he had been!