Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (43 page)

“What a picture!”

“Perhaps I think of the ones who reject me for having nothing in my pockets to pick?”  He chuckled and thought of his father’s pushing him to Georgiana.  He hesitated, and decided not to tell Darcy about it.  “Well, in any case, the ladies will be examining your wife closely.” 

“Do you think that I led anyone on this summer?”

“Gave hopes?”  Richard considered him.  “With your dancing and dipping your toe in to test the waters?”

“I hardly knew what I was doing.  I did not mean to encourage . . .”

“Darcy, I think you will find that as a very rich young man, you would have given encouragement to any lady you graced with a modicum of attention.  If you were more comfortable with ones you knew better than others and it showed, certainly it gave greater hope, but honestly, your behaviour was impeccable.  You led no woman or parents on.  If they had hopes they were on their own.”

“Thank you.”  His eyes closed.  “It sounds foolish, but I think that being an orphan at my age is just as difficult as if I were a babe.”

“But you seem to have found the best possible choice despite your innocence and caution.”  Richard’s brows rose and he nodded at him.  “Yes, innocence, Cousin.”

“I had better things to occupy my time.”  Darcy murmured and smiled at Richard’s incredulous stare.  He thought of Elizabeth and considered her innocence, and the smile reached his eyes. 

Richard’s head tilted.  “What are you thinking?”

He laughed softly, “I just realized that in some ways, Elizabeth and I are equals in our social ingenuousness.” 

“Hardly equals, you grew up in it, it is not unfamiliar.  Elizabeth is truly a babe in the woods.” 

“But your mother will be here to guide her.”  Darcy smiled at his rolling eyes.  “I cannot wait for Christmas.”

“Oh . . . yes.”  Richard snorted.  “A laugh-filled festival of joy!  Father is still in Town, shall I tell him of your expectations?”

“No.  With my wife at Pemberley, I am sure this Christmas will be like no other.  I look forward to Georgiana and Elizabeth meeting, they will love each other!”  Darcy sat back in his chair, feeling at ease.  “Yes, everything is looking so much brighter now.  Excellent!”

“I cannot recognize you.  I am glad of it; you are livelier even than the untroubled man of last June, before everything went to pieces.” 

“It seems so long ago.”  Darcy’s smile faded.  “The things I was considering then . . .” He looked up to Richard and confessed, “I thought of a match between Georgiana and Bingley.”  Seeing his cousin’s eyes widen, he held up his hand.  “I know, I know, but I thought in three or four years they would both be ready.  I did not suggest anything to either of them, I just thought . . . well, of the friends I have, I could trust him, and I could invite him to Pemberley frequently, so she might have . . .”

“Become comfortable with him.”  Richard rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “Well he is undoubtedly a gentle man, but I think that possibility has been effectively quashed.”

“Oh, absolutely.  I would not think of such a match for him now, only for love would I permit the two of them to marry, and I know that does not exist.  Bingley deserves to have a whole wife.” 

“Funny you mentioning him, I saw Hurst and his wife on Bond Street this morning.”

Darcy started.  “What are they doing in Town?” 

“No idea, maybe they missed Bingley?”  He started laughing, “Maybe they could not bear to listen to Mrs. Bennet lamenting his absence?  I imagine her voice carries quite a distance!”

“You are speaking of my wife’s family, Richard.” 

“Yes, have you met the rest of them yet?  The ones who did not appear at the wedding?”

“Mrs. Bennet’s brother . . . no.” 

“Nor do you want to.”  He chuckled.  “Are you a Whig or a Tory, Darcy?”

“Where are we sitting?” Darcy glanced around the walls of White’s. 

“Hmm, this is your father’s club.  Where do you belong?”  Richard sipped his drink and gestured with the glass.  “This friendship with Bingley, even to the point of considering him for your sister, marrying Elizabeth with her connections . . .  We certainly know your uncle’s opinion, and my father’s, and our aunt’s.”

“Enough, Richard.”  Darcy stood.  “I will not let down the family, I never have, I never will.” 

Richard stood.  “I did not mean to anger you; I was just poking some fun.”

“It is not welcome.”   Letting down his affront, he closed his eyes.  “I am going home to my wife.”

“I hope that she has some lovely new things to model for you.”  Richard smiled and held out his hand.  “I would share a cab, but we are going in opposite directions.” 

“Will you join us at the theatre?”

“No.”  He smiled as they shook.  “I think you two should enjoy your time alone in your box.  I will see you at the judge’s home for dinner before you depart.”

“If you hear anything . . .”

“I will send someone to you day or night.”  Richard watched him leave and went to the windows, glass in hand, and saw Darcy climb into a cab hailed by the doorman, then thoughtfully, walked away.

“NOT THE FACE.”  The tall man directed.

“Yes, sir.”  His burly assistant lifted Wickham by the neck cloth and ploughed his fist into his stomach. 

“Ooooomph!”  He gasped and began to retch.

“Oh, and let us be sure he does not enjoy the ladies for some time.”  The toe of a boot repeatedly found its way between Wickham’s legs, and he screamed in pain, falling down to the ground and sobbing.

“No more, please, I beg of you . . .”  Coughing, he curled into a ball and received another merciless kick, this time to his kidneys.

“That will do.”  A small bag was offered to the enforcer.  “Resume your post.  Oh, any sign of Darcy’s men?”

“No sir, I sent them off to White Chapel.”

“Excellent, keep giving them red herrings, we cannot have them finding the prize, can we?”  He smiled coldly and watching the door close, returned his attention to the writhing man.  “What a weakling you are.  Have you no other strength than gambling and pursuing little girls?”  Wickham groaned and the man crouched down beside him.  “What was she, your fourth?  Is it because they are virgins and do not know what a man should have?  Or do you just like breaking them?  Power over the weak?”  His voice lowered to a dangerous hiss.  “Well, you crossed me, and I am in power over you.  And seeing how you have soiled yourself, I would say that you are the weak one.”  Rising, he stood over him.  “You just could not resist.  I bet that you even enjoyed it for a time before you tired of her.  Why did you not marry my niece?  Were you afraid of me?  That dowry could have taken you far away; you could have left her behind and disappeared.  Or was it more appealing to ruin her and hurt Darcy?  Are you afraid of him?  No . . . jealous.  All of that money, and none of it yours.”  Drawing a dagger from his coat, he turned Wickham over and raised it high.

“No!”  He cried and shielded his face.

The blade flashed and drove down into Wickham’s arm.  He screamed and it was pulled out.  “There, now we are twins, blood brothers.”  He wiped the blade on Wickham’s breeches and put it away.  “I will leave you in the care of my man and will return in a few days.”  Wickham clasped his hand over the bleeding wound.  “I will have a proposition for you then.  Take it and perform successfully, and I will forgive your sins.  Reject it, and . . . well, Darcy does have his men looking for you; perhaps he would not hurt you too badly.  Perhaps you might even survive to face trial.”  He laughed and turned to the door.  “Do not think of escape.”  He glanced around the walls.  “Nobody can hear you.” 

As soon as he was alone, Wickham scrambled back into a corner and lifted his hand to look at the gaping hole in his coat and the blood seeping out.  He swore and looked around the dark cold walls hopelessly, then grimaced.  “I made a bargain with the devil himself.” 

UPON RETURNING HOME Darcy was informed that Elizabeth remained occupied by the modiste and her assistants.  Disappointed, he prowled the study, unable to light on anything to do without her near.  “Married a week and I have changed so much already?”  He stopped his perusal of the shelves and slipped the book he had in hand back in place.  “No, I just prefer to be with her.” 

He thought of his cousin the viscount, and wondered what would have happened if his father’s death had not forced him to take the reins of Pemberley.  “Would I have become another member of the idle and bored rich?  Like those fools at the club?”  The thought disgusted him.  He hated being unoccupied, and did not hide his aversion to those who took to it easily, or to idiotic rules of society that forced him to remain still, standing around a room, screaming desperately in his mind for some signs of intelligence from his companions. 
Especially on a Sunday.
  He remembered Bingley’s innocent but striking insult one day at Netherfield . . . and how Elizabeth noticed his embarrassment and did not join in.  He leaned against the window, looking out at the stray snowflakes drifting by, and smiled to himself.  “My Lizzy cared for me then, and did not realize it.  She was protecting me.  How many times have you protected me before you knew your heart, love?  You protected me from friends and family alike.  I will do the same for you.”  

Frowning, he watched a carriage arrive and a servant step down.  There was a knock; and looking out to the hallway, he heard the man being told that Mrs. Darcy was unavailable for visitors.  Returning to the window, he watched the servant report to the woman in the coach, climb back on and move away, only to see it stop a few doors down the street.  This time the well-dressed woman successfully entered the Dryden’s home, where undoubtedly gossip about Elizabeth would be the entertainment.   

Richard’s voice speaking of family returned to him.  “What were you implying there?  That I am lowering my family by befriending Bingley?  Considering him for Georgiana?  Marrying Elizabeth with her poor connections?”  His arms came down and he began to pace.  “I have not thrown away the principles that I have been taught!  Elizabeth is ideal for me! 
You
are jealous.”  Unhappily he sat down on the edge of his desk and folded his arms, glaring at the empty hallway and willing her to come downstairs.  “Where
are
you?” 

At the sound of women’s voices on the stairs, he scrambled up and around his desk, and took a seat, snatching up a letter that had been left on the blotter.  He broke open the seal and listened, hearing Elizabeth farewelling the modiste and her assistants. Biting his lip, he glanced down at the note, realized it was upside down and turning it, began to studiously read as she asked the footman if he had arrived home.  He glanced over his neck cloth and quickly smoothed his hair, then focussed determinedly on the letter.  Hearing footsteps he shot a look at the door.  When nobody entered, he pursed back the smile on his lips.

“Come in, dear.”  Darcy said to the shadow.  “I see you there.” 

Elizabeth peeked inside; she was clutching a letter and biting her lip.  “I do not want to bother you . . .”

“Yes, you do.”  He smiled and sat back in his chair, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as he watched her wander the room, picking indiscriminately at books and decorations.  “I assume that an order has been given to stop answering the door?”

“And to bar it from any more invaders!  Why do they wish to meet me?”  Darcy chuckled when her hands landed on her hips. “I cannot possibly imagine another person who wants that dubious honour!  Have you seen the bowl of calling cards in the foyer?”  She gestured to the door.  “I had no idea what was happening down here until I walked Madame Laurent downstairs.”

“Are your fittings completed?  That gown is just lovely, dear.”

“Thank you, I know it is not really suitable for this time of day, but I could not bear to take it off yet.”  She blushed to see his admiration, then laughed and struck a pose while he chuckled.  “Am I suitable for the pages of a magazine?  I have an admirable assortment of absolutely stunning gowns for every possible occasion, except for our appointment at the theatre.  That one has a few more adjustments to complete.  When I expressed my wonder at this exceptional production, Madame assured me that if it were this time next month she could not possibly have accommodated me.  Of course, I was suitably appreciative.”  Elizabeth laughed at the frown that appeared.  “Oh, do not think I was insulted.  I feel that I am a member of the club now; I have been treated no worse than any other lady.  Although, practicing my French probably did not help.” 

“I think that any native speaker will have a difficult time being truly impartial to someone attempting their language.  They will always hear the errors.”  Tilting his head, he watched her enthusiasm wane as she returned to examining the bookshelves.  Darcy felt the tension growing in the room and he willed her to move closer.  “What is next?  You had an ambitious plan to interrogate Mrs. Gaston, I believe?”

“She informed me quietly that I am honeymooning and that she refuses to take any time away from my primary duty.”  Darcy’s brow rose and Elizabeth sighed.  “You.”

“Oh.”  He smiled down to his hands.  “She does not know that we have chosen to separate purposely today.”

“I think that she does, and she does not like it.”  Elizabeth turned to face him and leaned on a bookshelf.  “Of course she does not know the reason we have separated, but I heard her asking Judy why I have reverted to wearing Georgiana’s nightdresses.”

“Because you are torturing me.  I sincerely hope that you ordered something more suitable from Madame.”

“Georgiana’s are not modest enough?”  She smiled.

“They resemble flour sacks.”

“I think that is done with purpose, Fitzwilliam.”  Darcy’s lips twitched as she moved a little, and waiting, he laughed when the shelf suddenly gave way behind her. 

“Oh!”  Elizabeth stumbled and fell backwards onto her bottom. 

“Dearest!”  Darcy was up and around his desk, and kneeling beside her before she knew what had happened.  “I am sorry, I did not think you would fall or I would have warned you!”

“What on earth . . .?”  She looked up to his face and behind her.  “Good heavens!  A secret passage?”