A Touch of Night (10 page)

* * * *

Elizabeth had walked quite a while, not sure how or in what direction until, in a grove, she came across Colonel Quentin Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth curtseyed hastily and was about to turn around, when he advanced towards her.

"Please, Miss Bennet. I have been walking the grove for some time in the hope of meeting you."

Her heart sank on the words. First, she was proposed to by an orangutan. Then by a man drawn to rhubarb beds and the company of his university friends. And now, what was about to befall her? Would she be solicited by the lover of Anne de Bourgh? Could she not elicit any normal love from normal men?

"Do not be afraid, ma'am," the Colonel said. "I merely wish to speak to you."

Elizabeth hesitated. After all, Mr. Darcy had only wanted to speak.

"It is about my cousin, Darcy," the Colonel said. "And... and what you might have heard in the Rosings shrubbery last night."

"What I heard..." Elizabeth shook her head. "What I heard is none of my concern, Colonel. I beg you to believe that I have better judgment than to concern myself with--"

"But, Miss Bennet, you must see that I wish to talk. Anne and I realized... we heard a noise and looked out and we think you might be the solution to our problems."

"Colonel, I hardly think--"

"Please, let me talk. Please, walk with me a while and let me talk."

She really could not respond against such a vehement plea, except perhaps by running off in a most insane way, which she was not willing to do. Not yet. Though the time might come.

Dear mama
, she composed in her mind, as she walked beside the colonel.
Having rejected the proposal of our beloved cousin, were-orangutan the reverend Mr. Collins and withstood the need to accept a proposal from the scandalous Mr. Darcy, I was bound to succumb eventually. You will be glad to know I am ready to close with Colonel Quentin Fitzwilliam's offer. Myself, the Colonel and his paramour, Anne de Bourgh, shall move into a county estate on --

"You must see, Miss Bennet, that the only hope remaining to me and Miss de Bourgh is that Mr. Darcy will marry. And from what I've seen, you've quite captured his heart."

"Colonel, I--"

"Please, listen. I understand you might be a little hesitant, but I am bound to believe you have some tender feelings for him. After all, having seen him change back from a dragon, you did not then and there denounce him to the Royal
Were
-Hunters."

"Colonel, I didn't -- change back from a dragon?" Elizabeth's mind caught up with her mouth on a slow arc. The dragon, flying outside her window at Longbourn came to her mind. The dragon. Those eyes. Those amazing green eyes. Mr. Darcy.

"Oh, you don't have to dissemble with me, Miss Bennet. I was there the first time Darcy changed, and my uncle, George Darcy, swore me to secrecy and also to protect my cousin. I will have you know I am very devoted to Darcy. And as such I thought it incumbent upon me to tell you... I know you might have hesitated otherwise, but I should let you know -- Darcy is as gentle and... well, honorable, in his dragon form as in his human form. I have spent time around both, and let me assure you that..."

In Elizabeth's mind the picture assembled of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. Naked in the rhubarb. Jane, naked under her window at Longbourn. The moon in the sky the night of the Netherfield ball. Mr. Bingley's urges. Oh, I've been fantastical. I've been blind. I determined to dislike Mr. Darcy from the beginning and I put the worst of all constructions on his actions.

"Mr. Bingley is a
were
..." Elizabeth prompted in what seemed to be a lull in the Colonel's speech.

"Oh, you didn't catch him in his other shape? He's a
were-dog
. In the dark, in certain lights, people might think him a wolf, but he's a
were-dog
, really. A beautiful hunting dog."

There's another like me I've been running with at night,
Jane's voice sounded in Elizabeth's mind.
He watched over me when I was recovering
.

"Oh, Jane, Jane."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, Colonel, nothing. Only... my sister likes hunting dogs." She caught the strange look the Colonel gave her and sighed. "I'm sorry. This is all too much to take in. Was it why, then, Mr. Darcy was so broken up over Lord Sevrin?"

"Well, that and they met at university. Bound to.
Weres
find each other, you know. Icarus Sevrin was... One of the best men I have ever met. It's still hard to believe him dead. It took Georgiana most horribly, you know? She was very attached to him. Partly, I think, hero worship. But Darcy had said if feelings subsisted and if Sevrin still found her the paragon of all virtues when Georgiana turned twenty, they could marry and have his blessing. And Sevrin and Georgiana suited. They are-- were both very shy. We still think Wickham turned him in. For the reward money."

"Mr. Darcy was willing to let his sister marry a
were
?"

"Why not? The trait is not inherited that simply. We don't know where it comes from in the Darcy family, but it must be an ancestor lost in the mists of time."

My parents were normal. . . .

I beg you to believe I have some reason to be aware of the phases of the moon.

"Are you well, Miss Bennet? You've gone most awfully pale."

"I am well. Just a sudden headache. Perhaps I've walked too far today."

"Then allow me to walk you back to the parsonage."

I've wounded a kind man already suffering under a severe blow of fate. I've wounded someone who hoped only for acceptance from me. I've treated his hopes for the future with scorn
.

In her mind, Elizabeth saw the dragon flying free. And those huge, sad eyes. Was she in love with him? She didn't think so.

And yet...

I can't stand the idea of his flying in the world and thinking ill of me
.

Chapter Nine

The day went by in a blur. If anyone had asked Elizabeth where she was or what she'd been doing, she could not have answered. It was with some sense of relief that she found they were not expected at Rosings for dinner or even for after dinner entertainment. After dinner at the parsonage, she could go upstairs to the bed and sink into it with a sense of well merited repose.

And yet, sleep did not come. She lay in her bed, looking at the closet door but not thinking at all of the convenient shelves within. Instead, all the images in her mind were of Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, his face open and sincere, kneeling at her feet asking her to be his wife. Mr. Darcy struggling to discuss his affliction with oblique references. Mr. Darcy laughing at her assumption that he and Bingley were lovers. Mr. Darcy, his face frozen at the sound of Wickham's name. The pain in his eyes at her rejection. His bitter goodbye.

Vivid images ran through her mind of his lean, naked body gilded by the moon, in that rhubarb patch the night of the Netherfield ball. Then there were memories of the dragon -- powerful, sensuous, brilliant in the dark sky - his eyes filled with longing and loss.

Most of all, through the night, Elizabeth's mind gave her a dispiriting picture of her own shortcomings. How could she have misjudged Mr. Darcy so? How could she, with all her experience sheltering dear Jane, have not connected all the clues she had been given to the obvious conclusion- that Darcy and Bingley were
weres
? Instead she had jumped to instant dislike of him because she had chosen to take offense at his comments at the assembly - comments of a private nature that she'd had no right to listen to at all. It was too easy to misconstrue clandestine information, especially if one's vanity was hurt by it. She admonished herself again and again for being so insupportably shallow.

Still, she realized through the long night, that she had no idea what her true feelings for Mr. Darcy were, or his for her. Oh, she had no doubt he hated the sight of her now, but why had he even wished to marry her? He had said that his feelings for her were violent, enough to disrupt his control over shifting. The only other time he had mentioned his feelings was to say that he need only be ashamed of what they had been. But, in truth, what had they been? His cousin the colonel had said that she had captured Darcy's heart, but Mr. Darcy had made no mention of that. The word love had not passed his lips.

So, why had he wished to marry her, despite the fact that with his affliction marriage could, potentially, put his life in danger? She thought back upon all that he had said. Things that made no sense at the time now struck her strongly. ". . . you penetrated my secret and did not in any way . . . And did not denounce me . . . I can rely upon your kindness and goodness . . . a wife who understands me and who is willing to overlook my... eccentricity."

Somehow, he had come to believe that she could be trusted to be a supporting wife, honoring his secret and protecting him from discovery. This due, no doubt, to the fact that she had not reported him and Bingley immediately upon finding them naked in the rhubarb - something that he had believed could only be interpreted in one way. And also the compassion she had shown in all the discussions of Lord Sevrin's sad fate.

Was that all? Was Mr. Darcy's life so bereft of understanding and compassion that these inspired him to propose marriage?

No - he had spoken of violent feelings which disrupted his equilibrium. Had he meant love, then? Elizabeth chided herself for being naive to even suppose so. Her readings had taught her that there were other powerful feelings raised by women in a man's breast that little involved love. And, thinking back upon the scene in the rhubarb, she was afraid she understood them all too well.

Were mutual respect and physical attraction enough reason to propose marriage? It appeared Mr. Dacy thought so. She did not think the worse for him because of that. From what he had said it was very apparent that he desired an heir. It was most natural for him to strive for normalcy when he was condemned to live such an unnatural life.

But now, of course, all that was finished. She did not need to worry about him renewing his offers, which, though her feelings towards him had done a complete about face, were still unwanted. Only the deepest love would tempt her into matrimony.

But she did want to redeem herself in his eyes. She did want to show him that she did not hold him in distaste because he shifted form. That his secret was safe with her. And she desperately wanted him to know that her dislike of him had not been immoveable.

Finally, as dawn was breaking in the east, she fell into a light, restless sleep. Her dreams did her no more good that her nighttime deliberations had, and she awoke with a throbbing head and dark circles under her eyes. She dressed quickly, ate a light breakfast with Charlotte and Maria, and then excused herself to go for a walk in the park. The day was already becoming warm, but she knew where to find cool, shady groves that she hoped would soon help her clear her head.

* * * *

Darcy had fared no better than Elizabeth that night. He had barely kept himself in check, the urge to fly past her bedroom window had been so strong. But his hopes in her had been shattered by her adamant refusal. In all the times he had thought of her, conflicting emotions warring in his breast, he had never considered what her feelings for him might be. He had supposed she would be anticipating his proposal. What vanity!

After breakfast he had only two thoughts - to get out of the house and away from his aunt's penetrating eye, and to find Elizabeth and apprize her of Wickham's true character. Improving her opinion of his own character was a desired outcome as well, especially when it came to his amorous predilections, but this was not his admitted objective.

He walked towards the parsonage through the park, annoyed that his emotions were still in such turmoil. His determination to talk to Elizabeth was becoming undermined by his bitterness at her rejection of him and his despair in losing her. His love mingled with hurt and anger. And though it was not night and there was no moon to affect him, a familiar fire coursed through his body, singeing all his defenses and causing little plumes of smoke to furl every now and then from his flared nostrils.

He turned off the path into a stand of elms, intent on holding his feelings in check before having to face Elizabeth in the parsonage parlor again. He was brought to a standstill at the sight of Elizabeth standing in the half shadow of the feathered branches, leaves just beginning to unfurl on their tips. If she had not seen him he would have backed away immediately, but she was looking right at him, her eyes unreadable dark circles in a pale face.

"Excuse me, Miss Bennet. I had not supposed you to be . . . I do not mean to intrude. I shall leave directly."

"No, Mr. Darcy. Indeed, it is I who am in your way. This is your aunt's park, after all."

"And you are welcome to walk in it wherever you choose."

"Thank you," said Elizabeth softly. And then she raised her eyes, which she had lowered in the first few flustered moments, to his. "I am sure the park is big enough that we can both walk together for a few minutes."

This generous offer gave Darcy a moment of hope. He had expected to be the last person she would be willing to spend time with, considering her dislike of him and the embarrassing circumstances of their prior meeting.

"In truth, I came out in the hopes of speaking to you," he said.

She blushed slightly and he inwardly cursed himself for being a fool.

"Do not be afraid that I wish to repeat any of those sentiments that were so disgusting to you yesterday."

She nodded her head and stood, waiting for him to continue but giving him no encouragement at all. There was nothing for it but to blunder on.

"I wanted to assure you of my friendship with Mr. Bingley. That it is nothing more than just that. Friendship."

"I understand completely, Mr. Darcy."

"There are other . . . legitimate reasons for our . . . state of undress, which . . ."

"That is quite all right."

"In Bingley's case it is not my . . . secret to tell. But believe me when I say that it was a perfectly natural and harmless incident."

"I do know what a trial such . . . things can be, and how situations of . . . nudity can happen . . . unawares. I am sorry that I intruded upon your privacy."

"There is no need to apologize, Miss Bennet. It is I who must apologize for the state of undress . . . it was a great shock to you and there is no forgiving it."

"I forgive you, Mr. Darcy. I know it was beyond your control."

Darcy stared at Elizabeth. He had hardly expected more than forbearance on her part, but this . . . this was further proof of her kind and just nature. Her color heightened under his intense gaze and he was brought back to the present by the realization that he was discomposing her. Staring in such a manner right after referring to her seeing him naked. He could kick himself for behaving like such an insensitive buffoon! He decided it would be best not to refer to the incident again.

"Thank you. But this was not the topic I had wished to discuss with you. There is something of a much more imperative nature."

Was he wrong or did he notice tensing in her shoulders? A drawing back of warmth?

"It concerns Mr. Wickham."

"Mr. Wickham!"

"Yes. I know you take an . . . interest in the . . . gentleman. I have no wish to offend you, but -"

"I am not offended."

"He is not the man you think him to be."

"I think I now have a good idea of who he is."

He was surprised that her tone was apologetic rather than antagonistic. He had expected her to jump in defense of her favorite. Maybe he was not too late. Maybe Wickham had not yet captured her heart.

"The two of us have quite a past."

"I have been informed as such," she said, gently.

"Yes," he said, hoping that she would still listen with such complaisance once he got going, "but I have always thought it beneath my dignity to reveal to anyone just what sort of a man he is. I cannot have him deceive you any longer. I know I can never aspire to . . . but I will make no mention of my feelings in this case . . . Mr. Wickham is not to be trusted."

"I have had information from someone other than him."

Darcy continued on, disregarding her words in his haste to finally get out what had been bottled inside him for so long. "He plays fast and loose with ladies' hearts. He is involved in all manner of vice. I saw all this while we were in Cambridge together and I . . . I could not bear to have you taken in by him. There is more that I cannot bring myself to reveal. Suffice to say that he treated those nearest and dearest to me with the vilest form of treachery."

"Treachery!"

Darcy was again afraid she would come to Wickham's defense, but if he mentioned the part he knew Wickham to have played in Sevrin's capture, he might be driven to reveal all about Wickham. No matter that Wickham was a coward and a traitor and that he would stab Darcy in the back the first chance he got, they had made a pact. And as a man pf honor he could not break the pact. Wickham's secret was safe with him.

"Indeed. I hope you will give my words some credence."

"Have you no faith in my judgment?"

"I know you to have been severely imposed upon."

"Mr. Darcy, please. Since yesterday my thoughts . . . my thoughts -"

Darcy could well imagine what her thoughts had been. And here he was callously bringing up the previous day and reminding her of his most unacceptable offer and the ungracious way he had comported himself. He needed to show to her that he knew how to behave in a gentlemanlike manner. And the best way to do that now would be to depart and leave her alone to assimilate all that he had said. And hopefully then she would see his character in a better light, and Wickham's in the darkness it deserved.

"I am sorry to have imposed on you for so long. I will go now and give you the solitude you must be desiring." The look of confusion and regret evident upon her face touched him deeply, and in a soft adieu he said, "God bless you," then made his way out of the copse without a backward glance.