Mr. Darcy's Obsession (9 page)

Darcy tried to return to the newspaper he had been reading, but his heart was not in it. He could think of nothing but the news the boy had brought. He went to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy, but did not touch it. Why did Elizabeth cry? Did she dislike the man? He would not admit the satisfaction the idea gave him. Or did she merely miss her family? Or perhaps it was because she no longer dared to venture on her walks.

No, that was ridiculous. Elizabeth Bennet had never lacked for courage, and it would take more than a few misplaced words from him to cause her to change her habits. And if she disliked her suitor, she would find a way to laugh him off, even if her uncle favoured the match.

He froze, the glass halfway to his mouth. Elizabeth had not laughed off
his
suit. She had cried, made accusations, and slapped him. Of course, she had believed him to be making a different proposition entirely, but still, if he thought about some other man suggesting that Elizabeth should be his mistress, he would have expected her to make a joke of it and perhaps a cutting remark. She would not let such idiocy hurt her. Why had he provoked such a reaction in her? If her opinion of him was as low as her words indicated, surely it could not be worsened by thinking he would take a mistress.

He tossed back a sip of the brandy faster than the fine liquor deserved. As it warmed his throat, he remembered the look in her eyes just before he began his proposal, when he could think of nothing but kissing her and would have sworn she felt the same. Could it be possible that she had cared for him, had in fact wanted him to kiss her? Was that why his words had hurt her, if she had indeed misinterpreted them?

"Simms!" Darcy called before he could think better of it.

"Sir?"

"That boy. I will see him again before he leaves."

"As you wish, sir." Simms disappeared down the hallway.

Darcy wrapped his hands around his drink. A little hope was a dangerous thing.

Chapter 7

Even in his state of eager anticipation, Darcy paused before knocking at the door to Georgiana's rooms to enjoy the sound of his sister giggling. He had so rarely heard it since Ramsgate that it was still a pleasure, albeit one that was becoming more frequent as her spirits became lighter. At times he could picture the girl she used to be.

But time pressed, so he rapped on the door. Mary, the girl from Rosings, opened it. Although her curtsey was quite proper, the saucy manner in which she glanced over her shoulder at Georgiana was hardly deferent; it was clear she had been involved in whatever had amused his sister.

Georgiana's cheeks were rosy and her eyes had sparkle to them. Perhaps the past was finally starting to lose its grip on her. "Fitzwilliam, will you not join me?" She gestured to the chair.

"For a moment only. I came to ask the pleasure of your company on a walk."

"Now? I had not intended to go out today, but I could, if you wish it."

The girl was hovering almost protectively behind Georgiana. Darcy waved his hand in dismissal, and with another curtsey, she scurried from the room. He said, "I think it is too pleasant a day to spend indoors."

He could tell from her slightly puzzled look that she saw something unusual in his demeanour. "Very well. Should I ask Mrs. Annesley to join us?"

"Not today, I think." He looked around the room, noticing her companion's absence for the first time. "Where is Mrs. Annesley?"

"Mary and I were talking, so I told her she could have the afternoon to herself. I hope you do not object." The worried tone had returned to her voice.

"Of course not. She is your companion, and it is your choice. Though if she is unsatisfactory in any way, I hope you will inform me."

"Not at all! She is everything that is kind and proper. But sometimes I prefer to be with someone closer to my own age. I am so glad you decided to bring Mary here for me."

He blinked in surprise. "For you?"

"Is that not why you brought her here from Rosings, because you thought she would be good company for me?"

"It was not my intent, but if it pleases you, then I am happy."

"What was your intent, then?"

Not a question he wished to answer, but it was a good sign that she dared question him again. If it was the girl's influence, he could not complain. "Her situation at Rosings was difficult, and it seemed best to remove her from the environs."

"Because of her father, I suppose. Was it Sir Lewis, then? Mary says her mother never told her, apart from that he was a gentleman."

It was a measure of Darcy's distraction that it took him a moment to understand her meaning. Seeking to recover himself, he said, "I seriously doubt it was Sir Lewis. He was not one to notice a pretty face." He hoped she would not question his statement. He had tried since Ramsgate to acquaint Georgiana with some of the less innocent elements of life, since naivete had not served her well, but there were some things he was not prepared to explain to his younger sister. At least he had an excuse to break off the conversation. "Shall we walk out in a quarter hour, then?"

"Certainly."

He had escaped unscathed there. Perhaps that was a good omen for the rest of the day.

***

Young Matthew Gardiner leaned out over the water of the Serpentine. He pointed excitedly, almost overbalancing in his enthusiasm. "Look, a giant fish! Right there!"

"That is indeed a big fish," said Elizabeth gravely, holding tight to the hand of his younger brother, Andrew.

Margaret huffed. "That is nothing compared to the fish Father caught when we visited Longbourn. It's just a baby."

"No, it isn't," Matthew cried.

An argument of this sort could go on for hours if there were no distraction. "Shall we look for the swans?" Elizabeth asked.

Matthew pouted. "I want to try to catch the fish, just like Father."

"You would need a rod and tackle for that, I fear." Elizabeth tugged gently at his hand, and he followed grudgingly.

Margaret stood on her tiptoes. "I think the swans are down there."

Elizabeth shaded her eyes as she looked down the length of the Serpentine. She could not see swans, but Margaret's eyes were sharper than hers. She stiffened as a movement on the path along the lake caught her eye. Surely it could not be! It must be some other gentleman of the same height, the same proud stature, the same long stride.

But it
was
him, with a fashionably dressed young woman on his arm. Something twisted in Elizabeth's chest. His love had not lasted long; he had already replaced her in his heart, and with a lady for whom he did not have to skulk in Moorsfield.

She could not bear to meet him. "Come, children. We must go now."

"But we haven't seen the swans yet," Margaret protested.

Elizabeth busied herself retying Margaret's bonnet strings, giving her an excuse not to look up. "Let us walk through the gardens, then, and see the swans afterwards."

"Please, Lizzy, can't we see them now instead?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the couple approaching. It was too late to flee. Instead she put her back to the path, gazing steadfastly into the water. "Where did your fish go, Matthew? I cannot see it."

Matthew and his brother needed no further excuse to go back to the reeds by the water. Elizabeth closed her eyes with relief. Mr. Darcy might still see her, but he would not have to acknowledge her. She strained her ears for his familiar tones, but heard only a light feminine laughter and footsteps on the gravel path.

The footsteps paused. Mr. Darcy's voice floated past her, sending a shiver down her arms. "Just a moment, my dear," he said softly and then called out, "Miss Bennet!"

There was no avoiding it. Elizabeth turned slowly and curtsied. "Mr. Darcy." She fixed her eyes on his cravat. It was safer than looking at his face.

The couple approached closer. "Miss Bennet, may I have the honour of introducing you to my sister?" he asked.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. His sister, not his betrothed or his wife. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Darcy."

"Not Miss Bennet of Hertfordshire? My brother has told me so much about you."

He had told his sister about her? Elizabeth's mouth opened, but it was a moment before she could force any words out. "I am all astonishment."

"Indeed. He told me of your musical talent and how much pleasure he found in listening to you perform."

"He is far too kind," Elizabeth said.

Darcy finally allowed himself to breathe more easily. He had found her. Poor Georgiana had been sweet about being dragged all over Hyde Park without an explanation, since young Charlie could not provide any information as to where in the park his quarry might be. Darcy wondered what his sister might be thinking, faced with the blushing Miss Bennet who would not look him in the eyes.

Naturally it must be difficult for her. He was at least prepared for the moment. But how was he to determine her feelings if she hid her face from him? He could see little of her but the rim of her bonnet.

He had to say something. "It is a fine day for a walk in the park." Hardly original, but unexceptionable.

She still did not raise her eyes, though she seemed comfortable enough looking at Georgiana. When she spoke, it was in a strained voice. "We are fortunate to have such a warm day so early in the spring. But you must excuse us; I promised to take the children to see the swans."

"Perhaps we could accompany you," he said. Was she trying to avoid him or merely looking for a graceful escape from an embarrassing situation?

"Oh, yes!" said Georgiana stoutly, much to his surprise. "I have not seen the swans since last summer." It was so unlike her to speak up in company that he knew she must be doing it for his sake.

Finally, finally she looked at him, with the barest trace of her teasing look. "We would be honoured, of course, but you must understand the children are not always the easiest of company."

"I love children," Georgiana announced. Darcy gave her a sideways glance. She was going to expect some serious explanations from him later.

Elizabeth said, "Very well, but you have been warned! Come then, Margaret, and you boys as well. No, leave the stick there, if you please, Matthew."

Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, waiting an anxious moment until she took it. Georgiana, bless her heart, was engaging the young girl in conversation, but he was starting to take a serious dislike to Elizabeth's bonnet, because again it hid her face.

They walked in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, broken only when Elizabeth stopped to point out to the children two deer among the trees. The boys immediately raced towards them, but the deer fled at the sight.

"Your cousins have a great deal of energy," Darcy said.

"Yes, they do." She kept her eyes on the ground.

Did she ever look up anymore? This would not do. He would have to say something, or he would never know what she was thinking. "I hope my presence does not make you uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable is perhaps the wrong word, sir. It would be more accurate to say..." She trailed off into silence.

"To say what?"

A small smile played over her lips, but she still did not look at him. "Perhaps mortified. Or embarrassed. Chagrined. Abashed. You may take your pick. They are all true."

"If the choice were mine, it would be none of these."

"What would you have me say, then?" She absently stroked the dangling ribbon of her bonnet with one fingertip.

Entranced, he followed the movement of her hand with his eyes. "Whatever the truth might be, even if it is that you would wish me elsewhere."

She seemed fascinated with the gravel pathway. Did her silence mean it was true? Was he nothing but a painful reminder of an embarrassing episode? Finally, just as he was about to give up, she said softly, "I have missed our conversations, Mr. Darcy."

"As have I." It was something, at least, and it made his heart leap. "You were very patient in listening to me."

"You ascribe to me more virtues than I possess." She glanced over her shoulder towards the boys, as if to ensure they had followed.

"I have no doubt about your virtues." From the crimsoning of her cheeks, he suspected she understood that he spoke of more than just the virtue of patience, but his patience was less than hers, for he could not stand to be in doubt any longer. "You used to look at me on occasion as we talked. Perhaps I have grown a hump or a wart upon my chin."

She turned her head towards him with just a trace of her old arch look. "No, you look quite unchanged."

"My valet will be devastated. He spent weeks persuading me to change the knot of my cravat."

This time she did laugh. "You seek to trap me, sir!"

"Not to trap you, no. But in some ways I
am
quite unchanged." His eyes held hers, and his heart began to pound because of what he saw there. Caution, but also awareness, and perhaps a hint of sadness. Now he knew she had not forgotten his declaration of ardent love.

She was the first to look away, seeming to seize the excuse of a cry from the youngest Gardiner boy. She hurried to the child's side. He held his hand out to her, displaying a scrape on the palm. Elizabeth took the boy's hand and examined it with great seriousness before pronouncing that she thought it would heal with time.

Darcy looked on. It was foolish to be jealous of a child no more than six years of age simply because Elizabeth held his hand and focused her attention on him. He forced his feet to take him down the path to Georgiana, who was looking at him inquisitively.

"Miss Gardiner and I have been discussing her history studies," Georgiana said. "She has a great enthusiasm for the subject."

Darcy appreciated Georgiana's choice of subject. He had little experience dealing with children, but even he could manage to ask about schooling. "Do you have a favourite period in history?"

"Oh, yes, sir. The Romans." The girl launched into the topic with fervour.

Even without looking, Darcy could tell Elizabeth was approaching them. She stopped beside her young cousin. "Margaret, I imagine Miss Darcy and Mr. Darcy have more to do today than to listen to ancient history."

Darcy said, "On the contrary, Miss Bennet. Your cousin is a delightful conversationalist."

"You have chosen her favourite subject, sir, and I doubt you have had the chance to say more than a word."

"It is a favourite of mine as well." He hoped she realized he was not speaking solely of history.

Margaret's face lit up, and she pointed towards the water. "Look, there are the swans! Are they not beautiful?"

"Very beautiful," Darcy agreed, looking only at Elizabeth. Her presence and the sense of hope it gave him were intoxicating.

The boys raced to the bank of the river, each vying to get closest to a swan. The elder one triumphantly picked up a white feather from the rocks at the edge, holding it just out of his brother's reach. The younger one, with a determined look, made a leap for it.