Georgiana was delighted to see them on their arrival in Brook Street; she had missed her new sister dearly, and was anxious to tell them both of her activities in town since they had left. Colonel Fitzwilliam was unexpectedly off to Newcastle again—“the better to keep an eye on Wickham when he arrives there,” said Darcy darkly. Lydia’s wedding was scheduled for the following day, and a note from Mr. Gardiner awaited them with the details of the arrangements.
Elizabeth could practically see Darcy’s mood deteriorating in front of her as the evening progressed, and was concerned as to the cause of it. Not wishing to raise the question in front of Georgiana, she bided her time until they retired for the night. When they finally went upstairs, Darcy stopped her before she entered her room. “Elizabeth,” he said in a serious manner, “my disposition tonight is not pleasant. You might prefer your own company to mine.”
She looked at him gravely, troubled by his implication that he should perhaps keep his troubles to himself. Perhaps, she thought, he wishes some time to himself, and is seeking a courteous way to say that. She suspected, however, that it was his tendency to withdraw when he was troubled, and she certainly did not wish to set a precedent in that regard. “I think that I should prefer your company, regardless of your disposition, and would hope that my company might ease your spirits. You need not pretend to a cheer that you lack.”
She thought that he looked relieved, and he kissed her forehead before going to his room. “I shall join you shortly, then, my love,” he said. She smiled slightly, pleased that she seemed to have made the correct decision.
After Lucy had assisted her into her nightclothes, Elizabeth sat brushing out her hair as she wondered what might be troubling Darcy. It seemed an encouraging step that he did not attempt to hide his feelings from her. She could not expect their marriage to be always without difficulties, but it was important that they face them in concert. His knock came at the adjoining door, and she bade him enter.
His expression was warm as she set down the brush and walked into his arms. He held her close to him, burying his face in her hair, letting the softness and the sweet scent of it soothe him.
As she felt him relax in her embrace, she tilted her head back to look up at him. “Can you tell me what is distressing you, my dearest?” she asked softly.
He could see her concern, and felt warmed by it; warmed, and also pleased in other ways as well. He lowered his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. “Let me lose myself in you first, my beloved, and then, if you wish, we can speak further,” he said.
There are many forms of comfort, thought Elizabeth, and she was more than happy to provide relief in that form, responding as ever to the feeling of his body against hers and the pleasures of his kisses. She arched herself against him seductively, and was rewarded by an immediate response.
Their lovemaking was sweet and tender, and when Elizabeth lay in his arms afterwards, she could sense that it had lightened his humor somewhat. She stroked his cheek affectionately, and he turned his face to her. “You do not intend to forget anything for a minute, do you, my love?” he asked lightly.
“I do not wish to forget anything that relates to you. You have made it clear that when I am in distress, you wish to know about it; likewise, I would like to share in any troubles you face.”
“Trapped in my own net,” he said affectionately. “Very well, my love, you may do your worst, though this is not as large a matter as you seem to believe, just that the prospect of seeing George Wickham tomorrow is an unpleasant one for me.”
“I can hardly fault you for that, William. It is distressing to think that anyone can care so little for the harm he does to others, and be so impudent as to suppose that he shall always escape unscathed.”
Darcy sighed deeply. “It is the more distressing when he is someone you have counted as a friend.”
She considered his words. Certainly, she had experienced a sense of betrayal when she realized Wickham’s true character after reading Darcy’s letter, and a sense of self-disgust that she had allowed herself to admire and be attracted by such a man. Her acquaintance with him, though, had been but a few short months; Darcy had known him his entire life, and by his own report they had been companions in their youth. How much greater must be the pain of his treachery under those circumstances! Having some sense as to the depth of her husband’s personal loyalties, she could only imagine what it must have cost him to dissolve a friendship that had begun so early, and with someone with such strong ties to his family. “That must be very difficult indeed,” she said.
“He knows my vulnerabilities so well. If it were only money, or even dishonor, that he sought, it would be less painful. But no, he understands how much more pain he can cause me by injuring those I love. I will not be able to look at him without seeing the hurt that he has dealt first to Georgiana, now to you. It is well-nigh unbearable.”
Elizabeth knew that she would have to word her next question carefully. “I have never understood why he wishes to injure you in the first place.”
Darcy grimaced. “It is not as if he spends his time searching for ways to get his revenge on me; it is more that he cannot resist an opportunity when he sees one, and he can see opportunities where no one else can. As to why… I have always assumed that he never surmounted his jealousy about the differences in our prospects. When we were young it meant nothing, but as we grew older, he resented it more. I believe it gives him some sense of power to get the better of me in one way or another, so he continues his tricks to this day.”
She nestled close to him. “I am so sorry. I do not believe that I can imagine what it would feel like to have a friend turn on you in that way. And, William…” she trailed off.
“Yes, my love?” He tangled his fingers in her long curls.
“Thank you for undertaking the mortification of dealing with him, for Lydia’s sake.”
“Sweet Elizabeth, you hardly need thank me for remedying a situation that would not have existed but for me.”
“No,” she said determinedly, “it exists because of Wickham’s amorality, and if you play any role in it at all, it is because he knows that in a cause of compassion and honor, you will be able to get the better of yourself and work for a solution with a man you despise. I am proud of you.”
He gathered her even closer to him. “My dearest love, you are very good to me, and I do not deserve such praise.”
She sat up abruptly and fixed a look of mock disapproval on her face. “Are you arguing with me, Mr. Darcy?” she said, in tones that would not have been out of place for Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
She was pleased to see him laugh. “I would never dream of it, madam.”
“I am glad to hear it,” she replied briskly. “Otherwise I should have to punish you.”
“And how, pray tell, would you accomplish that, Mrs. Darcy?” he inquired.
She took advantage of her position over him to give him a very good sense of how she intended to punish him, running her hands lightly along the lines of his body. With a wicked smile, she began to stroke and caress him in the ways she knew he found most arousing.
He reached up and drew her down on top of him. “In that case, madam,” he said, between kisses, “I feel it only appropriate to warn you that I am feeling quite argumentative tonight.”
Fourteen
Elizabeth was pleased to discover Darcy’s frame of mind substantially improved by the next morning. If not in particularly good spirits, he no longer appeared actively distressed, even when it came time to depart for St. Clements. They arrived there just before the hour to find Lydia fidgeting in her impatience for matters to proceed, and full of complaints about her stay in London. Mrs. Gardiner was clearly tempted to put in a few words of her own, but managed to restrain herself to sharing with Elizabeth some of the frustrations of the past two weeks.