Unforgiving Temper (40 page)

“Apparently Driscoll was right about the
rumors. Everyone seemed to be expecting her tonight; expecting her
to be with
him
! He was insufferable! But what does this all
mean, actually?”

The heaviness closed in once again and
contemplation creased Darcy's brow as Denham nimbly stripped the
remaining layers of clothing.

As Darcy's head came through the opening of
his nightshirt, he came to life with a sudden idea, nearly causing
the startled Denham to drop the silk damask dressing gown he held
in his hands.

“Denham, how well are you received below
stairs?”

Denham paused momentarily in his efforts to
retrieve the dressing gown and considered the question. “Well,
enough, I suppose – sir.”

“Do you think you could make some fairly
direct inquiries without inciting the servants to gossip?”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy, I believe so. I have
found Mrs. Vickery, Mr. Driscoll's housekeeper, to be a steady,
trustworthy sort of woman. I am confident she would be happy to
assist me in any way possible.” He showed no emotion as Darcy
turned an inquisitive eye on him, and the valet quickly moved away
before the color rising in his face could betray him. “What sort of
information are you seeking, sir?”

Choosing to ignore the implications of his
valet's reaction, Darcy pursued his newly-formed plan. “I should
like to know exactly how Miss Bennet is regarded at Everton
Manor. How she came to be in the neighborhood. How she is regarded
by Lord Grissholm and his ward; things of that sort. Do you
think you can manage it?”

“I believe so. I will ask Mrs. Vickery for
her assistance at the earliest opportunity.”

“I want to know the moment you have any
information – anything at all.”

“Yes, sir, the very moment.”

“Thank you, Denham,” Darcy said, feeling the
tension of the evening finally take its toll. “That will do for
tonight.”

“Very good,” the valet answered with a small
bow. He withdrew quietly, but kept a concerned eye upon his master
until the door to the dressing room closed between them.

Darcy stood unmoving in the empty room, the
disappointment and frustration of the evening running through his
head, especially his encounter with Grissholm; but in his exhausted
state, he could not grasp any thought long enough to examine it
with any success.

Acknowledging his need to lie down before he
collapsed, he moved wearily to the great four-poster bed that
dominated his room and stretched out on the crisp, white cotton
sheets. After several unsuccessful attempts to find a comfortable
position, Darcy finally gave up and lay flat on his back, staring
at nothing. His mind throbbed with an excess of fragmented details
as he waited for a merciful, mindless sleep to come – but it did
not.

* * * *

For Darcy, time crept forward at a snail's
pace as he waited on Denham's expertise to gather the needed
information from Driscoll’s housekeeper. Long morning rides and
shooting parties in the afternoons could not keep his mind
occupied. No matter how hard he tried, his tortured thoughts
conjured up visions of Elizabeth and Grissholm together as
Grissholm's taunting words came again and again.
…she chose me
over you!

The third afternoon following the dinner
party, Darcy entered Driscoll's library, searching for a
distraction. Though a good volume on philosophy normally served the
purpose, he could not find anything in the extensive collection to
hold his interest for more than five minutes.

Eventually giving up on the idea entirely, he
moved away from the bookshelves and wandered to the window
overlooking Driscoll's prized gardens. The view offered only the
dying remnants of what had once been lush and verdant summer
blossoms full of life and beauty.

Did Elizabeth really care for Grissholm? If
she was not seduced by Wickham, how did she come to be here? The
immensity of the implications was slowly pulling him down into a
deep despair that offered no hope of relief, no way to ease the
desperate anxiety he felt. A sudden noise at the far side of the
room caught his attention and he squared his shoulders, drawing in
a deep, fortifying breath. He then turned to see Denham entering
the library, obviously in search of his master. Darcy waited with
eager restraint as Denham swiftly navigated the several chairs and
tables that stood between them.

“Mr. Darcy, I have some news. Will you
hear it now?” he spoke softly.

“No! Not here,” Darcy answered, looking
warily back to the open door. “Go to my rooms and I shall be up
directly.”

Very good, sir,” murmured Denham quietly,
then left.

Waiting only a brief moment, Darcy left the
library as well. Reining in his eagerness, he ascended the stairs
calmly, nodding a greeting to Driscoll as they passed on the
landing; but upon reaching his rooms, Darcy quickly stepped inside
and shut the door solidly behind him.

He had wrestled with disappointment and
frustration for weeks before finally finding Elizabeth, only to
have their one brief encounter cut short by Grissholm's
interference. The past three days waiting for news that would give
him some means of seeing her again had been agonizing. His patience
had been stretched to the limit, and now that the opportunity was
finally within reach, his questions came more harshly than he
intended.

“Tell me, what news? What has Mrs. Vickery
discovered?”

Denham showed no offense at the tone. “I
fear, sir, that it will not be welcome news. The only kindness I
can offer is to tell it quickly. In short, Miss Bennet has
quit Everton.”

Darcy stared at Denham, refusing to accept
the news. When he finally did acknowledge the truth of Denham's
report, it was more than his already-frayed emotions could bear. He
lashed out, discharging the full force of his disappointment upon
the unfortunate messenger.

“Gone?! Are you certain, absolutely certain?
When?!” Darcy's mind raced to put the pieces together. He recalled
the smug look that had played on Grissholm's face the entire
evening of Driscoll's dinner party. Of course she did not attend,
she was already gone!

A fresh wave of fury welled up at the
realization of Grissholm's manipulations. He had been duped
soundly.

“Good heavens, man! It took three days…three
wasted days…to discover her gone? This is not to be endured!” He
retreated to the mantel, gripping its edges in brute strength, his
breath coming fast and hard in his struggle to contain the anger
and frustration raging within him.

After a time, Darcy's breathing returned to
normal, leaving the ticking of a clock on the polished mantel to
mark the seconds in the silent room. Cautiously, a pale and shaken
Denham softly cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, sir. I
realize the information was of utmost importance to you, but I
assure you the inquiries were made with all haste, giving due
consideration to the delicacy of the matter.”

Darcy head snapped up. The valet's defensive
undertone made him realize how desperate he had become. Had the
immense strain of the past several weeks been so great as to rob
him of the most common of courtesies to his faithful servant? He
was instantly apologetic. “I am sorry, Denham. It was wrong of me
to lay any blame when you were only acting on my instructions. You
have always given me the best of service, and I ask that you accept
my apology.”

Denham's astonished, then embarrassed
expression told Darcy he was forgiven. “It is quite all right, sir.
I understand completely and am happy to do whatever I can. Mrs.
Vickery reports that the two young ladies left Everton Manor the
morning after Sir Henry's ball. They are not expected to return any
time soon.”

“Well, that gives new meaning to a lot of
things now,” Darcy breathed bitterly. “It is clear that Grissholm
was deliberately keeping Miss Bennet and her whereabouts a
mystery. The question is why…and where did she go?”

“Shall I see if Mrs. Vickery can find out any
more, sir?”

“No, I think not. We shall have to move
carefully now that Grissholm has shown his hand. It was some years
ago, but I have seen what he is capable of when hard-pressed and I
cannot risk Miss Bennet's safety.” Darcy pushed back from the
mantel and paced the length of the room before continuing, “I shall
make some inquiries of my own. There are not many places he could
have sent her.”

Darcy covered the distance to his writing
desk in three strides and quickly settled into the chair. With
little pause, he reached for paper and pen and began a letter to
the one person he knew to have the most complete knowledge of the
families in London and the only person he could depend upon to
maintain his privacy: his cousin, Richard. Although they had not
parted on good terms, Darcy was confident the news that Elizabeth
was not with child, nor secluded in a distant farmhouse, would
lessen his cousin's objections substantially. He was also certain
that the re-appearance of Robert Grissholm in their lives would be
an added inducement for Richard to lend his assistance after
all.

When the letter was finished, Darcy penned
another short note to Bingley, asking that they meet in London as
soon as possible. He then raked his hands slowly through his hair,
reviewing the unexpected events that had transpired since his
arrival in Cumberland.
Grissholm is up to something. I can feel
it and I intend to find out what it is. I only hope I can do so
before Elizabeth does something she will regret.

John “Elizabeth, do sit down. If you stare
out that window much longer, I shall feel obliged to join you in
your vigil.”

“Vigil? I am only trying to judge the
weather. It looks to be a fine day and I thought we might take a
turn in the park later on.”

“It is a fine day,” came Rebecca's soft
reply, “but I had thought we might take the carriage to Bond Street
this afternoon instead of going to the park. His Lordship said I
could buy one of those beautiful Indian shawls we saw at Madam
Devereaux's last week. He said that you should have one as well,”
she added hopefully.

“He did, did he?” Elizabeth murmured
absently, giving the street below one last look before turning
away. “I cannot imagine why. I only mentioned how lovely
you
looked in that shade of blue; and I certainly have no interest in
another addition to
my
wardrobe.”

“Well, he thinks you should have it. He
thinks a lot about you, you know.”

“Hmm,” was Elizabeth's only response. Feeling
Rebecca's eyes on her, Elizabeth pulled her thoughts away from the
street. She would not bring Lord Grissholm back from his
meeting with Wickham any sooner by fretting over it.

“Can you not see it?” Rebecca teased with a
little smile.

“What?”

“How solicitous his lordship is. The way he
speaks to you. The way he makes a point of spending time with you.
You must see it!”

Embarrassed, Elizabeth turned back to the
window. “How could I not?”

“And?”

“And I am at a loss as to what to think.”

“Forgive me if I am being too forward; but
are you pleased with his attentions?”

Elizabeth began to pace the room, her arms
wrapping tightly around the strange excitement that always
fluttered in her stomach when she considered Lord Grissholm's
solicitude.

“Well – I must admit it is flattering. What
girl would not be pleased?”

“You are not entirely pleased, though; are
you?”

Elizabeth sat down on the satin covered divan
next to Rebecca. “I cannot believe his lordship is serious. How can
he be? I have nothing of any consequence to offer.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, you do not see yourself as
others do. You are charming and beautiful and intelligent and
engaging and…and I have never seen Lord Grissholm so much as
give a second look to any woman in all the years I have been with
him.” Rebecca leaned forward with the eagerness of her youth. “Of
course I am not an expert in these matters; but I would not be
surprised at all if he were to make an offer to you very soon!”

“Rebecca! You are being ridiculous and I will
not hear it!”

“You know it is true!” Rebecca's voice
lowered conspiratorially. “What will you do if he does?”

“It is too absurd to even consider!”

“But if he does? Will you accept?”

Elizabeth busied herself once again with her
sewing, allowing some time to consider the girl's question.

“One thing I have learned, at a great cost,
is not to rush to judgment in any situation, particularly when it
comes to a gentleman's feelings. Lord Grissholm has been very
kind and attentive, but I shall not consider it any more than
that.” Elizabeth's firm tone put an end to the subject. “Do not
look so disappointed, my dear. I promise that if such a remarkable
event should ever occur, you shall be the first to know!”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much!”
Rebecca grinned impishly. “Deny it all you want, but I have no
doubt he is –” the rest of her words stuck in her throat as
Lord Grissholm suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Entering the room with a flourish of good
will, he did not notice the two women quickly bend over their
sewing a little too diligently. Elizabeth was especially
industrious as she struggled to check the wash of pink that had
flooded her cheeks.

“Well – I see that you ladies are happily
occupied. I trust you have had a good morning?”

“Yes, my lord, we have had a very pleasant
morning, haven't we, Rebecca?” Elizabeth answered brightly,
creating a sharp contrast to Rebecca's pale silence.

“Y-yes, w-we have. We were just – ,” her
voice faded under his direct gaze. Even though she was now able to
maintain her composure during most of the increasing social
obligations required of her, she continued to be helplessly
intimidated whenever Lord Grissholm addressed her.