Unforgiving Temper (45 page)

“I should be going. Miss Ballard will be
wanting my company.”

She turned and walked away, only looking back
after she had put a safe distance between herself and the source of
the unexpected sensations. She had left him standing near a large
elm, and he was there still, the sun casting a long shadow behind
him. She could feel more than see his eyes following her departure.
A few more steps and she was hidden from him by a high stone
wall.

Walking briskly now, she shivered at the
penetrating wind cutting through her pelisse. The quickened pace
brought her back to Peyton House just as the clock in the hallway
chimed three o'clock.

Raising gloved hands to warm her icy cheeks,
Elizabeth hurried to check on Rebecca and then went to her own
rooms. Within minutes Molly appeared and replaced the fashionable
but woefully thin coat with a thick woolen robe, clucking her
tongue and wondering at the wisdom of going out on such a cold day.
Without complaint, Elizabeth allowed herself to be guided to the
large, overstuffed chair that had been moved closer to the fire.
She settled into the comfortable cushions, accepting a cup of hot
tea as soon as it was brought up and savoring the warmth that
spread through her body with each sip. Meditating upon her
surprising conversation with Mr. Darcy, she did not stir until
Molly returned an hour later to help her dress for dinner.

Rebecca was still too ill to come down, which
left Elizabeth and Lord Grissholm to dine alone. All through
dinner and the hours after, Elizabeth watched the viscount with new
interest and weighed each word he spoke, trying to detect any of
the deception Darcy had pronounced against him.

Other than an occasional curious look from
him, she failed to see anything objectionable in his attentions,
but Mr. Darcy's words remained uppermost in her mind the
balance of the evening and into the next day as she prepared to
tell Lord Grissholm of the rumors circulating in
Hertfordshire. It was only a matter of time before they reached
London and it would be better that he heard them directly from
her.

Elizabeth only picked at the little bit of
breakfast on her plate, too preoccupied with what she would say to
Lord Grissholm to eat any of it. When breakfast was finally
cleared away and they were alone, she sipped her tea, waiting for
the viscount to come out from behind his morning paper.

After several minutes wherein he seemed
totally oblivious to her presence, she took another sip and
resolutely addressed the front page of his fortress.

“My lord, I have something to tell you that
will have direct bearing on your offer. I think you will want to
reconsider.”

Her quiet declaration found its mark. The
paper wall crumpled instantly, revealing a curious, unhappy
countenance.

“I doubt there is anything you could say that
would make me reconsider.”

Elizabeth slowly returned her cup to its
saucer, taking the time to gather her courage.

“Perhaps you will think differently when you
have heard me out. I have just learned that there are rumors
circulating in Hertfordshire regarding my character. They are of a
unbelievably dissolute nature.”

“Is that so?” he replied, showing a little
interest. “I have heard nothing.”

“Fortunately, the gossip has not yet reached
London, but shall very soon if I do not act quickly. I think I must
release you from any obligation.”

“Nonsense! Do you think me so changeable as
to retreat at the slightest difficulty? Exactly what are these
rumors?”

Elizabeth balked at revealing the humiliating
details.

“Come now, you must know that I only want to
help you and I cannot do that unless you tell me.”

“Well, it is thought that I am…that is,
I…that I left Hertfordshire to conceal the effects of an illicit
affair.”

Grissholm suppressed an amused smile. “And
you think that will alter my wishes?”

Elizabeth bristled at his patronizing
attitude. He was taking the news much too lightly. “Yes, sir, I
believe it must.”

“Not in the least!”

“Sir?”

“You are overreacting. It is ridiculous to
think that anyone would take seriously the idle gossip of some
bitter, disappointed woman. In any case, it makes little difference
to me.”

“But it does to me! It is
my
character,
my
reputation at stake. This must be resolved
before we can come to any understanding. I would do you no credit.
Even with your position in society, I highly doubt I would be
accepted by anyone.”

“I have no doubts whatsoever, my dear, and I
see no reason to change anything as far as our engagement is
concerned.”

“It is not an engagement yet – and
I
do! If you are not troubled by this, my family is! They have
suffered enough these past months and I cannot add to their misery
by allowing the rumors to stand. I must return home as soon as
possible and set things right. Have you no more news from
Mr. Wickham?”

“No, I have not received anything from him
for some time. I will see what can be done,” he replied smoothly,
giving her a sympathetic smile. Obviously wishing to change the
subject, his eyes traced the lines of her figure and lingered
mischievously at her lips. “You look lovely this morning,
Elizabeth. I particularly like that shade of green on you.”

Elizabeth quickly took another sip of tea
from her cup, hiding a frown behind the rim. His look and words
were nothing he had not said or done before, but this morning,
instead of provoking quiet feelings of delight, they only added to
her irritation.

Why was he not concerned for her reputation?
Everyone else certainly would be if an engagement was announced. He
may not believe the lies, but there were plenty of others more than
willing to do so, thanks to Ann Younge.

Elizabeth remembered the woman's parting
words at Everton Manor and the motivation that lay behind this
vicious retaliation. Lord Grissholm could not have made a more
accurate assessment of the woman's temperament. It was almost as if
he knew her.

In the next breath, Elizabeth stifled a gasp,
nearly dropping the pale porcelain cup and spilling the few
remaining drops of liquid onto her lap.

“Elizabeth, is something wrong?” Grissholm
frowned in concern.

“No, I am…quite well,” she stammered in
reply, nearly undone by the sudden, startling thought. Avoiding the
intent gaze coming from across the table, she concentrated on
wiping the errant drops from her lap as the alarming suspicion that
had flashed through her mind now blossomed into a glaring
certainty. She had not mentioned how the rumor started. She was
sure of it. Yet he had already known that the source of the rumors
was a “bitter, disappointed woman”, almost as if he had personal
knowledge of Ann Younge. Mr. Darcy's warning made the
connection all the more credible. Of course Lord Grissholm was
not concerned with the rumors – he already knew about them; perhaps
more than she knew herself! Indignation swept through her, burning
away any remaining doubts.

Feeling Grissholm's eyes on her, Elizabeth
forced a reassuring smile to her lips before she looked up to see
that he was, indeed, still watching her. She revealed nothing of
the turmoil that was raging inside of her. If he already had
knowledge of the rumor, what else did he already have? She would
have liked to demand immediate answers, but she was certain a
direct confrontation would not produce anything sufficient to
relieve her growing dread. Mr. Darcy's words of warning
sounded in her head, and she hit upon another way of finding the
answers she needed.

“I wonder, sir, if I might trouble you for
the use of your carriage this morning. I thought I would see if the
music I ordered for Rebecca has come in. She will want to try it
out as soon as she is feeling better.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have
some business with my attorney and will have need of it this
morning.”

“I understand. Perhaps this afternoon
then?”

“Again, I am afraid I must refuse you. I am
meeting with some friends at Boodles. If it can wait until
tomorrow, I shall make time to personally escort you wherever you
wish to go. Will that do?”

“Yes, my lord, that will do nicely.”
Quite
nicely,
she thought with grim satisfaction. It was true that
she wanted to procure the sheets of music, but they were not at the
heart of her request. She had actually wanted to discover his
lordship's plans for the day. Now that he had obligingly provided
them, she had plans of her own, ones that did not include him.

Elizabeth looked down the empty corridor in
both directions, assuring herself she was alone, before quietly
lifting the latch to Lord Grissholm's study and slipping
inside. She closed the door to its frame, leaving it unlatched so
that she might hear any approaching footsteps.

The afternoon sun angled in through the long,
narrow windows, casting a surreal light on everything it touched.
Pausing only a moment, she made her way across the room to the
imposing desk that had been the scene of Lord Grissholm's
proposal only two days before.

Pushing the distracting thoughts of that
encounter out of her mind, she moved to the viscount's chair and
began her search. If Mr. Darcy was right and
Lord Grissholm did indeed possess all Lydia's letters, then it
was reasonable to assume they would be here among his papers.

Starting with the neatly arranged stacks
lying on the desktop, Elizabeth sifted through a variety of
contracts, bills, and social invitations, careful to leave
everything exactly as she had found it. As expected, they were not
there. It was not likely he would leave them out in plain sight,
but she was not leaving anything to chance. Moving to the drawers
next, she began a methodical search, exploring each one thoroughly.
It was not until the third drawer that she found what she was
looking for. Lifting a tightly-wrapped bundle which bore the single
inscription of “Lord Robert Grissholm” in the familiar scrawl of
Wickham's hand, she knew it had to be the letters.

She quickly set the package on the desktop,
anxiously working at the knot in the string until it loosened and
fell away. Swallowing hard, she hesitated only a moment before
slowly peeling back the outer cover. A stunned gasp of amazement
flew from her lips as she stared at the dozen or more missives –
all addressed to George Wickham in Lydia's familiar, hand – lying
in front of her.

So, it was true! Lord Grissholm had
recovered them all! Elizabeth could only stare in awe at the sheer
number of her sister's ruinous letters. Mr. Darcy's words
sprang to her mind.
'…he has never been inclined to further
anything but his own interests.'
Lord Grissholm's
interests were clearly not the same as hers; not when he allowed
scandalous rumors to go unanswered and deliberately delayed her
return home.

All at once, her eyes widened in a flash of
revelation, the shock of it striking her mind with a sudden,
horrifying comprehension. If the viscount had lied about the rumors
and the letters – what else was he lying about? Was anything
true?

She glared at the letters, anger and
mortification welling up within her.
“This is impossible!
Lord Grissholm is expecting a favorable outcome to his
proposal, and he is now proving to be worse than Mr. Wickham
ever was! The only one who has shown himself to be an honorable
gentleman is Mr. Darcy. So honorable that he would go to such
trouble and expense for the sake of salvaging my family's
reputation, righting the wrong he has done in separating his friend
from dear Jane! Oh, this is wretched! Can I ever trust my own
judgment again?”

Elizabeth shook herself from her unhappy
reverie and straightened with renewed determination. She didn't
know how she had allowed herself to become so blinded, but it was
all very clear now and she would not suffer another day in this
house! She had the letters now. All she needed to do was burn them
so that they would never be a threat to anyone again. Then she
would return to Hertfordshire and contradict Mrs. Younge's
spiteful rumor. She had no means to travel, but she had a friend in
Mr. Darcy and he would see her safely home.

Quickly gathering the letters together, she
re-wrapped the package, holding it tightly to her chest as she
double-checked the desktop for any tell-tale signs of her search.
Satisfied all was in order, she turned to put her plan into action.
Her footsteps and her heart stopped suddenly at the sight of
Lord Grissholm leaning comfortably against the door-case.

“My lord, I did not see you there!”

“I think that is rather obvious, my dear. It
seems you have been busy in my absence.” He came forward, slowly
shutting the door behind him. Without speaking, he measured her
with a shrewd, calculating gaze.

Elizabeth stiffened defiantly at his
intimidating manner. “It seems you have been busy yourself, my
lord. I see that
all
of my sister's letters have been
recovered. How long have you had them?”

“A while, I must admit,” he remarked with a
maddening complacency.

“And just how long were you going to wait
before you told me of them?”

“As long as it took.”

“Took for what?”

“For you to accept my proposal – formally,
that is. Am I to gather you are ready to do that?”

Elizabeth stared in disbelief. “You cannot be
serious!”

“Quite serious, my dear.”

“Then you are a madman!”

“Oh, but I shall be a very happy madman, I am
certain.”

He came nearer, his menacing smile forcing
Elizabeth to draw from a deeper reserve of courage.

“I will never enter a marriage based on lies,
deceit, and blackmail! These letters change everything – these and
the fact that you knew all about Ann Younge's malicious rumors!”
She held the letters out accusingly and edged away as he stepped
closer. “There is no engagement and there certainly shall be no
marriage!”