Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation (25 page)

Darcy still could not quite credit that
they were married. Only the sight of the ring on Elizabeth’s finger offered him
proof it was real. But the ring could not sparkle nearly as much as Elizabeth’s
fine eyes in the bright sunshine as they walked the short distance from the
church to the inn. So bedazzled was he by his new wife that he nearly collided
with a plump woman standing in his path in front of the inn.

Darcy barely gave her a glance as he
touched his hat. “Pardon me, madam.”

“Mr. Darcy,” she said crisply, “May I have
a few moments of your time?”

Not someone begging a favor, not now!
Brusquely he said, “This is a most inopportune moment.”

“I am sorry for that, but I have come a
long distance for the chance to speak to you. Do you not remember me?”

Annoyed, he turned his attention to her.
At first she seemed a complete stranger, and then he saw through the years
which had softened her face and added crow’s feet by her eyes. He took an involuntary
step backwards as he recognized the face that had haunted him for years.

“I see you do. I pray you, if you will
only hear what I have to say, I will leave you in peace.”

Everything in him wanted to refuse, but
Georgiana, Richard and Mrs. Collins were only a short distance behind them, and
above all he needed to prevent her presence from becoming known to Georgiana.
“Very well, but only a few minutes. There is a private parlor in the inn.”

“I thank you.”

Darcy had forgotten Elizabeth’s presence
until her hand tightened on his arm. She gave him a questioning look.

He took a deep breath. “Elizabeth, may I
present Mrs. Dawley. She is the last person before you to bear the title of
Mrs. Darcy.”

“Your wife? I had not heard you were
married.”

Elizabeth curtsied. “It was quite recent.”

“Pray accept my felicitations, in that
case.”

Darcy glanced back over his shoulder.
Georgiana and the others were already in sight. “Come, let us go in.” He held
the inn door open for them.

To his relief, Elizabeth took charge of
arranging for immediate use of the private parlor and requesting tea, thus
giving him a few much needed moments to remind himself he was the Master of
Pemberley. Under her breath, Elizabeth asked, “Do you wish for me to accompany
you?”

It had not occurred to him she might not.
“Please.”

Once they were settled and the door to the
private parlor firmly closed, he said in his most authoritative manner, “So,
you have gone to a great deal of trouble to find me.”

Mrs. Dawley bit her lip. “Yes. When they
told me you were not in London, I inquired as to your whereabouts. I thought it
might be easier to reach you here. I wish to see Georgiana and to reassure
myself of her well-being.”

“Georgiana is perfectly well, and I wonder
at this sudden interest of yours in a child you left behind long ago.”

“If you think I have forgotten her simply
because your father refused to allow me to take her, you do not understand how
a mother’s heart works. I have thought of her and missed her every day. When
she reached the age I was when I met your father – and you – I
began to think more about that terrible time, and to fear Georgiana might
herself be placed in a similar situation. Finally I became so distraught over
it that my friends suggested I try contacting you.”

He would not allow her to manipulate him
again. “I fail to see what was so terrible about it. Was it marrying a wealthy
man or having to live at one of the most beautiful estates in Britain?”

Her brows tightened. “It was terrible for
me
,”
she said softly. “I married a man old enough to be my father, thinking he was
enamored of me, and discovered he did not want a wife but an unpaid governess
for his son. He sent me away from all my friends and family to a place where I
knew no one except an eight year old boy. For years I had been waiting for my
Season, looking forward to all the balls and soirees, laughing with all my
friends – and instead I was whisked off to the middle of nowhere while my
husband
remained in London.”

Darcy shook his head. “That is ridiculous.
He had no need to marry to provide me with a governess.”

“No, he could have hired someone, but you
had taken a liking to
me
at a time when you were badly out of spirits. I
was too well-born to be offered employment, so he married me instead to secure
my services. You had been so withdrawn since your mother’s death, and he had
been at his wit’s end to bring you out of it when he discovered you were happy
in my company. My father was delighted at what he saw as a brilliant match. But
no one asked
me
if I wished to be purchased as a playmate for a little
boy.”

His stomach clenched. “I had been under
the foolish impression you liked me, but all you wanted was Pemberley.”

“I
did
like you, but a young boy
could not take the place of everyone else in my life. I missed my friends and
my brothers. I hated Pemberley. It was my gaol, not my home. No one there
wanted a seventeen year old mistress. They whispered behind their hands all the
time.” She shivered.

“If you hated Pemberley so, why did you
attempt to kill me, if not so
your
child would inherit?”

She stiffened and drew back. “Attempt to
kill
you? That is utter nonsense!”

“True; you did not try to poison me, just
to put me in dangerous positions where I might be killed. Shall I list them all
off for you? The unbroken horse, the cliffs, the trees?”

Turning white, she grabbed at the edge of
the table. “
That
is what you thought I was doing? I thought if I showed
everyone that you were not safe with me, your father would bring me back to
London and my friends. Why else do you suppose I had you do all those things in
front of the steward or your tutor? They were supposed to write to your father
and tell him you should not be in my care! I never wanted to hurt you. Had I
realized all it would do was make you be taken away and I would remain trapped
at Pemberley, I should never have attempted it. You were the only pleasant
thing about Pemberley for me.”

His throat ached. Could it be true? He
reviewed his memories. Had there always been someone watching his dangerous
exploits? He could not remember one where he had been alone with her. But his
tutor and his uncle had been so certain of her motives. “You left me alone
without food or drink when I was ill.”

She clenched her fists. “
That
was
that horrible Reed woman, the housekeeper. I said the servants were not to
tend
you, not that they were not to
feed
you. If
I
had given such a
ridiculous order, which I did
not
, the housekeeper should have ignored
it. I told your uncle all this at the time.
And
I dismissed the
housekeeper, something she thought I would never dare to do. And, as usual,
your father paid no attention to anyone’s reports.”

“That seems a ridiculously farfetched
explanation for your behavior. Surely there were more sensible methods to use
to convince my father.”

 “It was foolish, I admit, but I was
desperate – and practically still a child myself. I had pleaded again and
again, both to your father and my own, to no avail. Your father cared a great
deal for your happiness and very little for mine. He felt I was more than adequately
recompensed as his wife. As if an estate alone could make me happy! That is all
men care about, estates and money, but they meant nothing to me.”

“Many women would tolerate much more than
you did to be Mistress of Pemberley.”

“Perhaps so, but I am not one of them. If
I wanted Pemberley so badly, why did I ask to return to my home? Where, I might
add, I was much happier, but I do not know why I am bothering to tell you this.
It is clear you have made up your mind I am an evil, murderous villain.” She
pulled on her gloves with sharp, abrupt movements.

“Wait.” Elizabeth placed her hand on Mrs.
Dawley’s arm. “You are asking him to change a belief he has held for years. I
pray you, give him a little time.”

Mrs. Dawley glared at her for a moment,
then nodded slightly. “Very well. He looks a great deal like his father, and it
brings back painful memories.” Her voice quivered.

Conscious of Elizabeth’s gaze on him,
Darcy said carefully, “I was under the impression my father decided to send you
away.” But he could not recall his father saying anything about it. Had it just
been his own assumptions?

“No, of course not! Why would he send me
away? It was not as if he ever bothered to see me as it was, apart from those
occasional visits to Pemberley he could not avoid. Once I realized he intended
to keep me in the wilds of Derbyshire forever and would never permit me to live
with him in London, I knew my only chance of happiness was to leave.”

“I fail to see why he would not allow you
to live in London.”

She hesitated, then looked away. “You do
not know?”

“Apparently not.”

“He had ensconced his long-time mistress
in Darcy House, and did not wish to move her out on my account. I can see you
do not believe me. Ask any of the servants who were there at the time; they can
tell you.”

It felt as if she were taking his world
apart, one piece at a time, and there was no solid ground on which to stand.
Then he felt Elizabeth’s hand grip his, and he looked into her eyes.
She
was his anchor.

He turned back to the other woman. “Mrs.
Dawley, would you be so kind as to excuse me briefly? There is a matter I must
attend to.”

“Of course,” she said, and Elizabeth gave
him an encouraging nod. She must have guessed what he planned to do.

He had to stop half way up the staircase
to regain his equanimity. Then he found Crewe in his room, laying out a fresh
set of clothes.

“Crewe, I wish to ask you some questions
about my father.” His voice felt rusty.

Crewe straightened. “Of course, sir.”

“After my mother’s death, did my father
keep a mistress at Darcy House?”

Crewe did not meet his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Even during his second marriage?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did he send his second wife away from
Pemberley?” He watched Crewe’s expression closely. 

Crewe hesitated. “I cannot say for
certain, but I believe it was at her request. She came to London to speak to
him. He was agreeable to it, but she became quite distraught, presumably when
he told her he would not permit her to take Miss Georgiana with her. But this
is solely my conjecture; he never said as much to me.”

“Lord Matlock believed she was trying to
harm me.”

“Yes. Your father did not believe a word
of it, but felt if you were happy at your uncle’s house, there was no point in
quarreling over it.”

Darcy sank down in the chair by the fire
and lowered his head into his hands.

“Sir?” asked Crewe tentatively.

“What?”

“Is all well with Mrs. Darcy?”

For a moment Darcy thought Crewe was
referring to his stepmother, then remembered there was a new Mrs. Darcy. A
smile grew across his face. “She is quite well, and I must return to her.”

With a lighter step, he returned
downstairs. When he opened the door to the parlor, he heard Mrs. Dawley say, “I
hope I have not given you a poor impression of your future home. Pemberley is
very beautiful, a home anyone would be proud of. It was simply not a good place
for a lonely girl who longed for the Devon coast.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly. “I am very much
looking forward to seeing Pemberley after all I have heard about it.”

“Do you have no happy memories of
Pemberley?” Darcy asked abruptly.

“Of course I have a few. Although one
stately home is much like another to me, I loved the grounds at Pemberley.” She
paused, a misty smile lighting her face. “And our hiding place. I have very
fond memories of that.”

“What hiding place?” Darcy could not
recall anything of the sort.

“Our cave, where we built the fire pit
ring from river stones and lit fires to stay warm.”

Darcy shook his head. “No, it was Richard
who lit fires in a cave with me.”

She looked taken aback. “I suppose you may
have done it with him as well. But do you not remember? It was under Curbar
Edge, not a true cave, just a hollowed out overhang. We even wove a little
awning from willow branches to keep us dry in the rain. It was very ill-made,
as I recall, but it served its purpose.”

Weaving willow branches – yes, he
could remember that. He stretched his fingers. It had been much harder than it
looked, forcing the flexible branches into ever smaller openings, but he had
done it until his fingers ached, and been ridiculously proud of himself for
building something with his own hands. “I do recall,” he said haltingly. “You
made up stories for us to act out. Sometimes we were cavaliers hiding from the
Roundheads, or wild Indians in America preparing to attack the British settlers.”