Falling for Mr. Darcy (34 page)

“Miss! Miss! Come, you must run now!” It was the maid from her uncle’s house. She had been frantically looking for her mistress since her sudden disappearance and found her standing over a man in an alleyway. The man was obviously in pain and the maid could see bruises forming on Elizabeth’s face.

Elizabeth took a few shaky steps backwards, never taking her eyes off Wickham. Then, she turned and quickly walked with the maid back to her uncle’s house.

Upon entering the house, the maid called for Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle and escorted her to the sofa in the sitting room. Elizabeth sat numbly, staring at nothing, until the frantic voices of her aunt and uncle reached her ears. She listened as the maid related what she had seen when she came upon Elizabeth in the alley. Her aunt watched in horror as Elizabeth mutely reached into her dress and pulled out the note Wickham had placed there.

“Elizabeth, what happened?” her uncle asked, worriedly.

Her aunt’s gentle touch caused her to look up. “Lizzy, tell us what happened. What is this note?” She took the paper from Elizabeth’s hand and read the address. “Mr. Darcy?”

“He told me to give it to Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth mumbled.

Her aunt looked towards her husband with shock. He said he would send an express to Mr. Darcy’s home immediately, requesting his presence as soon as possible.

“Who attacked you, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth moved her eyes slowly to the concerned face of her uncle. She swallowed and grimaced at the pain she felt from her bruised neck. She could barely whisper the name as bile began to rise in her throat at the recollection of his loathsome face. “Wickham.”

Her uncle left the room to write the express, and her aunt pulled her gently up off the sofa as she said, comfortingly, “Come, dear, you must rest.”

She nodded her head and walked slowly with her aunt up the stairs to her bedchamber. When she reached her bed, she climbed on top of it and lay on her side, staring blankly. She felt her aunt place a blanket over her shoulders and kiss her forehead before leaving.

When Elizabeth heard the click of her door, she took a deep breath and, pulling her knees up to her chest, allowed her tears to flow freely.

* * *

Richard was visiting with Darcy, discussing the surprising turn of events of the day before, when Mr. Carroll knocked and delivered an express.

Richard watched Darcy open and scan the letter and then stumble backwards into a chair as his face blanched.

“Darcy! What is wrong?” The colonel was alarmed as he watched his cousin mutely read through the missive again and then quickly open another that was enclosed.

Mr. Darcy stood abruptly, his face filled with anger as he called loudly for Mr. Carroll. When the man entered, Darcy nearly roared at him, “Saddle my horse!”

“Darcy! What is going on? Who is the letter from?” Richard was now shouting in his concern.

“He has gone too far this time, Richard. I swear I will kill the man with my bare hands.”

Richard took a step towards his cousin in shock. He had never before seen Darcy so upset, pulling his hands through his hair and pacing the floor. Richard grabbed his shoulders to stop his pacing.

“For God’s sake, Darcy, tell me what is going on!”

“Wickham!” Darcy spat the word and tossed the letters at his cousin.

Richard quickly read the first one:
“Mr. Darcy, I request your immediate presence at my house on Gracechurch St. A man named Wickham has attacked my niece Elizabeth. He gave her this note to give to you. –Edward Gardiner.”

Richard cursed under his breath and looked at his cousin. Upon seeing the pain in his eyes, he whispered, “Darcy.”

Darcy looked away and demanded, “Read the next one.” He strode to the study door and shouted towards the footman near the front door, “Where is my horse?!”

Richard pulled Darcy’s arm and led him to sit on a chair. “Darcy they are working as fast as they can. Yelling at your staff is not going to get the horse saddled faster.”

Too agitated to sit, Darcy stood again and paced the perimeter of the room as Richard read the second letter, this one from Wickham.

Darcy,

By now you will have learned that I have met your lovely Miss Bennet. She is a delightful little thing. How does it feel to know that I have compromised the two women you love most in this world? I know you would not want my almost elopement with Georgiana to become public, but what would you do to save your Miss Bennet’s reputation, I wonder? For the reasonable price of twenty thousand pounds, you have my word that I will tell nobody of either lady’s unfortunate circumstance. I will be waiting for you by the center statue in Hyde Park at 10 this evening. Bring a bank note and, Darcy, do come alone.

Sincerely yours, George Wickham

Richard let out a low whistle and a few decidedly improper oaths. He turned to his cousin, waving the letter in the air. “What are you going to do about this, Darcy?”

“Exactly what I have to do — pay the man!”

“You cannot be serious! When will it ever end? If you pay him now, he will just come back for more.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do then, Richard?! He has hurt Georgiana before, and I cannot let him do it again. And now . . . now . . . ” Darcy fell onto the couch and raked his hands through his hair as he rested his elbows on his knees. “Now he has hurt my Elizabeth. That man’s evil has permeated every part of my life.”

Richard sat in the chair next to Darcy. He spoke calmly and softly. “Darcy, you cannot keep paying him.” Richard sat quietly, thinking for a minute, before turning confidently to his cousin. “I know what we can do.”

Mr. Carroll knocked and announced Darcy’s horse was ready. Darcy shot off the couch.

“Darcy, I will meet you here at 7:00 tonight to discuss with you what we will do about Wickham.”

Darcy merely nodded as he left the room and put on his riding gloves and coat. Richard followed him to the grand hall and asked, “Where are you going now?”

Darcy looked at his cousin as if he had grown a third eye. “I am going to Elizabeth, of course.” Darcy turned to Mr. Carroll and ordered that nobody but his cousin be allowed entrance into the home and Georgiana was to stay inside until further notice. He shot Richard another quick look before taking the steps, two at a time, and mounting his horse. He kicked the animal into a full gallop as he turned towards the street.

* * *

When Darcy reached the Gardiners’ home, he was led into their sitting room, where he was asked to take a seat. After he was introduced to Mr. Gardiner, a formality that struck him as oddly out of place given the circumstances, he immediately asked the man to relate what happened.

“We do not know the full details, Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was too stunned when she arrived home to describe much of what had taken place. The maid who had accompanied her on her walk said that she lost sight of Elizabeth after turning a corner. She began scanning all directions looking for my niece and finally found Elizabeth standing, quite distraught, in an alleyway. She was staring at a man writhing at her feet, obviously in pain. I believe Elizabeth may have assaulted Mr. Wickham and incapacitated him temporarily, which allowed her escape.”

Darcy groaned and his head fell into his hands.

“Elizabeth did say that Mr. Wickham gave her the note I sent to you and asked her to deliver it. I do not know what other liberties he may have taken or words he used with her.”

“Is she . . . is she all right?” Darcy could barely manage the words.

“She is resting right now. Mr. Darcy, I have to ask you — who is this man and what does this have to do with my niece?” Mr. Gardiner spoke firmly but kindly.

“It is a long story, sir. Suffice it to say, he wants to hurt me and my family.”

“What does that have to do with Lizzy?”

“It is because I . . . ” Darcy’s voice faltered and he took in a deep breath. “Mr. Gardiner, may I see her? May I speak with Miss Elizabeth?” He looked up pleadingly at the man.

“I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but she is resting. She was quite upset after . . . ” He looked away to hide his own discomfort.

Neither man noticed that Elizabeth had entered the room. She stood, resting her back against the door. She watched Darcy rub his face and let out a shaky breath. He raked his hands through his thick curls and hung his head as he pulled at the hair on the back of his head.

Elizabeth’s soft voice broke the stillness in the air. “Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy immediately rose and rushed to Elizabeth’s side. His heart broke as he saw the discolored skin around her neck and jaw. Elizabeth had to turn away when she saw his anguished expression. Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to steady his emotions.

Mrs. Gardiner entered the room and, seeing the silent exchange between her niece and Mr. Darcy, spoke softly with her husband before they both exited the room to allow the couple a few moments to talk.

“Elizabeth . . . ” Mr. Darcy’s voice was unsteady as he reached out gently to examine her bruised face. He stood there silently for several minutes, carefully turning her head.

Elizabeth naturally flinched as his hand approached her face in anticipation of the tenderness of her injury. She was then surprised by Mr. Darcy’s gentle touch. He held her face so carefully that she could feel no pressure from his fingers as he turned her face towards him.

She looked up into his eyes and saw them brimming with emotion. Her own eyes began to fill with tears. She had determined to come downstairs when she learned of his arrival. When left to her own thoughts, she had been tortured by the continued replay of the assault. All she wanted was to see Mr. Darcy and feel his arms around her again as they had once been in the grove. She needed to hear his tender voice and feel his warmth chase away the nightmare. Standing in front of him now, looking into his eyes so filled with a similar pain to hers, she could not utter the words she wished to say.

She was mortified and humiliated at the thought of what he must now think of her, but the tenderness of his touch and the concern in his face testified that her worries were unwarranted.

Darcy forced himself to see all her bruises. He felt personally responsible for each injury and for the anguish he saw in her eyes. Her perfect little face was discolored because of him. He blamed himself for Wickham’s actions; he was the one who caused Wickham to notice Elizabeth and target her. It was Wickham’s hate for him and wish to seek revenge that caused Elizabeth harm.
You did not deserve this. I do not deserve you, Elizabeth,
he thought with anguish as he once again settled his eyes on hers. At that moment, all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and hold her — to comfort her, tell her everything would be all right and that he would protect her. But he could not. She would not want him to.
How she must despise me!

Darcy wiped away the single tear that fell from Elizabeth’s eye. Reverently, he said, “Oh, Elizabeth, I am so sorry.”

His wretched voice broke through her barriers, and she stepped forward to grasp onto the lapels of his jacket, burying her face in his chest. He slowly, gently wrapped his arms around her small frame. He bit his cheek as he heard her quiet sobs and rested his head on hers, trying to breathe deeply. He never hated himself more than he did at that moment. After a few minutes, he led her to the sofa and sat down with her, never releasing her from his embrace.

“Elizabeth, I am so sorry,” he said again. “You are safe now; he cannot hurt you anymore. I will not allow it.” His voice gained a raw conviction in the end.

He barely heard her muffled voice through her tears and his embrace. “Why did he come for me? What did I do?”

Mr. Darcy gently brushed back the matted hair at her temples. He closed his eyes to block the view of her tear-stained face, and her eyes squeezed shut. He could feel her hands gripping his coat tighter, and his heart broke yet again.

“You did nothing, my dear. Wickham wants only to hurt me, and he knows the best way to hurt me is to hurt those who are important to me.”

Elizabeth’s mind barely registered his words, and she froze for a moment to comprehend them. His endearment and subsequent declaration echoed through her mind. ‘
The best way to hurt me is to hurt those who are important to me.
’ She could not fully grasp what he was saying, but her heart slowly began to feel lighter.

Mr. Darcy had not realized the confession he had made nor its importance to Elizabeth; he simply spoke from his heart. He noticed when her body stiffened and wondered whether she wished for him to release her from his embrace. Reluctantly, he loosened his arms from around her, and she leaned back far enough to look at his face. She closed her eyes when she felt his gentle hand cup her cheek.

Darcy smiled slightly as she leaned her head into his hand, and he spoke softly to her. “Elizabeth, will you tell me what he did? I know it may be painful to speak of, but I must know. I must . . . ” His voice trembled.

She opened vacant eyes and turned her face from him. The words came in a detached manner. “He held me against a wall and tried to kiss me. He was quite angry when I turned my face. I think he was getting ready to strike me when I brought my knee up and . . . well, then he fell to the ground, and I was free. Only I was so scared, I could not move for a moment. The next thing I knew, the maid was pulling me away, and we were walking home.” An involuntary shiver ran down her spine.