Unforgiving Temper (46 page)

“Very clever of you to have figured out the
source of the rumors, I must say; but it makes no difference. It
comes down to this, sweet Elizabeth – ” His hand shot out, claiming
her arm in a bruising grip. The anguished gasp that filled the room
had no effect on him as he roughly drew her close. “Ah, do not
struggle so, my dear,” he whispered into her hair. “I can be
reasonable. You may have half the letters as soon as our engagement
is announced and – ”

“Half?!” she cried in angry surprise.

“Yes, of course,” he murmured softly, sending
a loose tendril of hair dancing around her ear. “Do you think I
would let you go back to Hertfordshire without sufficient
inducement for your swift return? The remaining letters will be my
wedding gift to you.”

“Never!” she breathed furiously, struggling
to break free of his powerful grasp. “Let go of me!”

“As you wish, my dear,” he replied lightly.
Calmly pulling the packet of letters from her fingers, he released
her. “You have only to ask.”

She glared at him, backing away and rubbing
gingerly at her arm. There was a throbbing rush of blood where his
fingers had gripped her.

“However, you may want to reconsider your
reluctance to wed,” he continued casually. “If a mere rumor has
produced so much trouble for your family, imagine what damage an
actual letter could do in the hands of a few neighbors.”

“No! You cannot!”

“I can and I will if you choose to fight me
on this. It is your choice, Elizabeth.”

Calmly and deliberately, Grissholm trailed
the packet of letters lightly down her arm and smiled at the
fiercely defiant lift of her chin. Returning the letters to the
drawer, he sat back into his chair with smug satisfaction. “Perhaps
you would like a few days to think on it.”

“Why?” Elizabeth demanded. “Why are you doing
this?”

“Because I wish it. I think you have lived in
my house long enough to know that I am a man accustomed to having
his wishes obeyed without the need of any explanation.”

“Surely you know this changes everything. You
cannot possibly want a wife who does not love you, who has not the
slightest affection for you.”

“Oh, but I am confident that you will – in
time. I have no doubt. You are too sensible a woman to live your
life in misery. Sooner or later, you will learn your duty and
fulfill it admirably.”

* * * *

Staring into the gathering gloom outside her
window, Elizabeth saw nothing, felt nothing but the shroud of
desolate anger that had settled over her since leaving
Lord Grissholm's study more than an hour before. The small,
painful throbbing in her arm, evidence of the viscount's brute
force, pushed its way into her mind, bringing back an unwelcome
reminder of the encounter.

Elizabeth had left with her head held high,
but her bravado only lasted as long as it took to get to her room
where her furious tears had flowed unchecked. The tears were now
spent, but the discovery of Lord Grissholm's treachery and the
horrifying incident that followed continued to play in her mind. He
had set every nerve in her body on edge and she could not calm
them. Gently rubbing at the soreness in her arm, Elizabeth paced
from the window to the bed and back again, trying to shake his
menacing memory.

She must leave! She had to get away as soon
as possible, but how? She was still penniless, she didn't know how
to find Mr. Darcy, and more importantly, she had to escape
without Lord Grissholm's knowledge. Troubling visions of the
young woman in Lord Grissholm's past haunted her. Had
Catherine Monroe refused him as well? Elizabeth anxiously
considered her own circumstance. If she provoked him, would she too
disappear without a trace, never to be heard of again?

Her tortured mind conjured every imaginable
misery that would befall her and her family if she refused
Lord Grissholm, yet what misery would be suffered should she
marry such a heartless, overbearing man? Pushing back the agony
that threatened to take her sanity, she forced herself to take
deep, even breaths. She just needed a little time to settle down
and then she could think clearly enough to consider her
options.

It was some time later, after she had finally
stopped pacing and took refuge in the chair near the fire, that
Molly came into the room. Elizabeth watched the girl working for a
few minutes before sitting up and stretching the stiffness from her
muscles.

“What time is it?”

“Lord, bless me! I didn't see you there,
Miss Bennet! Are you ill?”

“No, Molly, I was just resting and lost track
of the time. Is it very late?”

“Yes, Miss. It's nearly time to dress for
dinner.”

“I will not be going down for dinner tonight.
I am not the least bit hungry,” she answered flatly. “Will you
please give Lord Grissholm my regrets.”

Molly cleared her throat nervously, carefully
avoiding Elizabeth's eyes. “His lordship gave me particular
instructions that you were to join him for dinner, Miss. He said if
you were wanting to stay in your room, I was to tell you he won't
allow it. If you don't go down, he will come for you himself.”

Elizabeth's jaw tightened with a new wave of
frustration. “Very well then, I suppose I shall be dressing after
all.”

Rising from the chair, she stepped
reluctantly to the dressing table and turned for Molly to help her
out of her wrinkled frock. The last thing Elizabeth wanted was to
give Lord Grissholm another reason to forcibly impose his
will.

It was a moment before she realized Molly was
staring at her, eyes wide with alarm.

“What is it?” Elizabeth asked, following the
girl's gaze to her arm. There were five oblong, purple-red bruises
rising on her arm where the viscount had held her. Looking back at
Molly's distressed face, she gave a determined smile. “I am fine –
really. Help me with the dress, now. You know how particular his
lordship is about punctuality.”

The girl hurried over and began removing the
dress. Elizabeth submitted absentmindedly, her mind turned to the
challenge of escaping Peyton House.

“Molly, how did you receive the message you
delivered from Mr. Darcy?”

“His valet, Mr. Denham, told it to me. I
visit my sister in Newberry Street every Sunday and I was on my way
there when he approached me.”

“Did he?” Elizabeth murmured, thinking once
more of what trouble Mr. Darcy had gone to on her behalf.

“He did. At first, I thought the man was bold
as brass; but he put my mind at ease straight away when he said it
was Mr. Darcy that sent him.”

Suddenly Elizabeth frowned, her mind diverted
from the subject when Molly held out a striking, emerald green
evening gown for her to put on.

“Molly, did I not ask you to lay out my blue
silk round for tonight?”

“Yes…well, Lord Grissholm…he…”

“You do not have to say any more. He gave
particular instructions
?”

“Yes, he did. I'm sorry.”

“That is quite all right, Molly. You are only
fulfilling your duty.”
Just as he thinks I will, no doubt; but
he is in for a rude awakening if he thinks he can command me as he
does his servants!
she silently retorted.

“It's a very good thing your gown has long
sleeves, Miss.”

“Yes, it is. His lordship thinks of
everything,” Elizabeth agreed curtly, then curbed her annoyance so
that she could return to the more pressing subject on her mind.
“Molly, do you have a way of finding him again? Mr. Denham, I
mean.”

“Well, he did say that if you were ever in
need of Mr. Darcy, I should leave word at Mr. Thomason's shop
and he would get it.”

“Excellent! Do you think you could do that
without drawing attention?”

Molly hesitated, and then dropped her eyes
apologetically. “The master wouldn't like it. If he found out, it
would cost me my place here for sure. I would be turned out on the
street in the blink of an eye. With no recommendation, I would
never get another position.”

“I understand,” Elizabeth replied kindly,
touching her arm, “and I would not wish to cause trouble for you.
Is there anyone in the house whom I could trust to carry such a
message?”

Molly had been surprised at Lizzy's gentle
reply, and her cheeks flushed with shame. She glanced at
Elizabeth's arm where the sleeve of dark green satin now covered
the vivid bruises. “None that you can trust to go against the
master's wishes,” she whispered and then drew a ragged breath.
“I'll carry the message for you.”

“No, I cannot ask you to risk your livelihood
for me, Molly. I will find another way.”

“There is no other way,” the girl argued.
“The staff has been put on notice and his lordship will know at
once if you try to leave the house. You won't find another servant
willing to go against the master's wishes after what he said. But
I'll do it. Give me the message tonight, and I'll carry it first
thing in the morning.”

The sound of the dinner bell in the main hall
checked any further discussion and Molly hurried Elizabeth towards
the door. Elizabeth paused a moment to ensure she was in command of
the anxiety churning in her stomach, then made her way down the
stairs to face Lord Grissholm. She hoped she would be able to
get through the evening without giving herself away. As with his
instructions to the staff, the viscount had made clear to her his
feelings about Mr. Darcy, and if he were to discover any hint
of what she was asking Molly to do, she was certain his displeasure
would be extreme. After her experience earlier this afternoon, she
was afraid to even guess how extreme it would be.

As she entered the dining room, Elizabeth was
more than a little annoyed to find Lord Grissholm's greeting
extremely pleasant and attentive. She was further infuriated to
find him acting as if the encounter in his study had never
happened. Thus, the ordeal of his company the remainder of the
evening had been an arduous exercise in restraint and affected
pleasantries, made worse when he refused to let her retire after
dinner, insisting she play for him until late into the evening.

The following day, she fared no better. As
promised, he had accompanied her to check on Rebecca's music, and
then insisted they visit several other shops before returning to
Peyton House. All through the day, he had found reasons to stay
near her side, and she had the uneasy feeling his attentions were
more to keep an eye on her rather than any real desire for her
company.

* * * *

Now anxiously pacing her room, Elizabeth
waited for the sounds of the retiring household to die away. Soon
she would be gone from this place, never to return.
It cannot be
soon enough for me!
she thought irritably. The difficulties of
the day passed through her mind and she shuddered.

Being careful to avoid any suspicion of her
anticipated flight, Elizabeth had spent the day acting the part of
an obliging companion, stoically enduring the curls of nausea that
swirled in her stomach each time Lord Grissholm looked at her.
It had taken a special effort to keep the smile on her face and not
snatch her hand away when he bid her goodnight; bending over her
hand, the soft, warm touch of his lips lingering on her skin much
longer than she wanted. When he straightened, his look had been
arrogantly confident. How could such a pleasing countenance hide
such a cruel character?

Pushing the unpleasant thoughts aside, she
re-checked the small portmanteau at her feet. It contained only
what was absolutely necessary. She wore the same pale yellow day
dress that she had worn on her arrival at Everton Manor. The rest
of what had been given her by Lord Grissholm was left behind.
She wanted no reminders of her time with him.

Nearly an hour after the house had finally
fallen silent, the door to Elizabeth's dressing room swung
noiselessly open. As soon as Molly appeared, Elizabeth donned her
warmest pelisse and picked up the small leather bag.

“Are you ready, Miss?” Molly's whisper seemed
loud in the stillness.

“Yes. I have left a letter for Miss Ballard
on my dressing table. Will you see that she gets it after I am
gone?”

“I promise I'll give it to her as soon as I
am able. We'd best hurry now. I've come later than I thought to.
That new footman took forever to finish his rounds.”

“Very well then, shall we go?” With a nervous
breath, Elizabeth looked around the room one last time. Her only
regret was leaving Rebecca, but there was nothing she could do for
the girl now. She could only hope that there would be someone
kinder than Lord Grissholm when it came time for her to
marry.

Trying to calm the butterflies in her
stomach, she quietly followed Molly though the dressing room and
down the maze of servants' stairs used to access the rooms of the
house. Their descent ended at the head of a wide hallway near the
kitchens.

“Wait here. I shall be right back,” Elizabeth
instructed, her voice barely audible.

Molly only nodded, her wide eyes looking
around with apprehension as Elizabeth disappeared down the long
hall that led to the front of the house.

It did not take long for Elizabeth to find
her way to Lord Grissholm's study. She entered noiselessly,
closing the door quickly behind her and paused to get her bearings.
It was darker than she had thought it would be. A moonless night
gaped blackly at the windows, the darkness broken only by a
smoldering glow coming from a pile of dying embers in the
hearth.

Moving as swiftly as she could in the
darkness, she crossed the room to the massive desk and felt her way
down to the third drawer. She tugged gently once, then again with a
little more force, but the drawer did not move. Locked! She scowled
in the darkness.
Of course Lord Grissholm would not be
foolish enough to leave the letters so accessible a second time.
Now what? I cannot leave without them!