Fitzwilliam Darcy Read online

  But that line of thinking was dangerous – Darcy could not afford to be distracted by such flights of fancy. Had not that been the purpose of the ruse in the first place? To keep him free to attend to the business at hand.

  He certainly had enough business to keep him busy. Weatherby had returned twice for more signatures. Georgiana had written, and though she could not attend the ball at Netherfield this week, she was keen to meet the woman who’d agreed to help him with so delicate a problem.

  They would get along famously, Elizabeth and his sister.

  Darcy forced his mind back to his letter writing, banishing the woman from his thoughts for approximately the hundredth time that afternoon.

  * * *

  “You look beautiful.”

  Elizabeth turned to see Jane standing in the doorway.

  “Thank you, but I think you’re blinded by the prospect of a potential countess. This is my old green silk.” Elizabeth looked down at herself and back to the mirror atop the vanity in her room.

  “The maid’s excellent needlepoint notwithstanding, you look lovely,” said Jane, coming to stand beside her sister. “I came to see if you need any help.”

  “You’re a gem,” said Elizabeth, giving her sisters hand a squeeze. “I think I’m nearly there. But thank you.”

  “If you’re set, then I’d best go see to Kitty. She was already weeping over something snide Lydia said about her gown,” said Jane. She handed Elizabeth a folded piece of paper. “Oh, and one of the servants found this in the hall. They’re not sure when it arrived. I thought you might want to see it straight away.”

  “Hm,” said Elizabeth.

  “A love letter from the earl, perhaps?” said Jane with a smile.

  “Hardly,” said Elizabeth drily, even as a blush started on her cheeks. “I’m not sure what it could be.” She unfolded the single page but did not recognize the writing.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” said Jane. They could hear Kitty’s wailing from down the hall.

  Alone once more, Elizabeth turned her eyes back to the note. There was no address, no greeting.

  * * *

  He deserves better than a crass, poor upstart like you. Call it off now before somebody has to put you in your place.

  * * *

  Elizabeth stared, fighting down the threatening nausea. She sat, motionless, absorbing the words until they were engraved upon her mind.

  Sarah was nearest by. Elizabeth called to her from the door and the girl appeared a moment later.

  “Yes, miss?”

  “Did you see who left this note in the downstairs hall?” Though she’d been loath to touch it again, Elizabeth had refolded the letter to its original shape to conceal the contents. She held it up for Sarah to see.

  “No, miss. Though I did hear Hill tell cook that one of the hands found it out near the stables.”

  “I see,” said Elizabeth. The stables were situated close to the road, but concealed by a tall, thick hedge. Anyone could have dropped that letter on the dirt footpath and would have been hidden again in the space of a breath. “Thank you, Sarah.”

  The servant left and Elizabeth turned back to stare at herself in the mirror. The letter did not specify her fate; perhaps it was merely the work of some heartbroken young miss who thought she’d lost her chance at landing an earl. It was disgusting and small of someone, but the note wasn’t overtly threatening.

  Still, it made Elizabeth uneasy.

  But the family were to leave for the ball in very short order, and as a person of particular interest to the guest of honor, Elizabeth could not be late. She’d put the letter out of her mind for now; perhaps she’d find a private moment to mention it to Darcy. He might have some insight as to its author.

  * * *

  Darcy knew he spoke with a great many people throughout the night. The crush was such that he suspected there were several guests present who hadn’t actually received an invitation. Bingley was a charming host, but Darcy’s status as guest of honor had made the rounds of conversation ever since his new title became public. The locals were especially keen for Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a favorite in general in Hertfordshire, and Darcy’s notice of her had brought him up still further in their estimation. He’d been introduced to more people this evening than he could remember at any one time in his life.

  And for all his upbringing and generally refined manners, he couldn’t recall a single one of their names. All he could recall from the past several hours was the exact shade of green glimmering off Elizabeth’s gown as she passed beneath the candlelight. It perfectly complemented her dark hair and the color in her cheeks, which was heightened by the heat of the room. It somehow elevated her pretty eyes to extraordinary. Darcy caught himself staring yet again and retrained his gaze on the crowd of dancers instead.

  Darcy did not much care for dancing as a rule; too much intimacy in too public a venue for his taste. Society deemed it acceptable, of course, but it carried a whiff of impropriety to it that he didn’t like and thus, he rarely partook in the activity.

  But tonight he was courting. Surely he was entitled to dance with a woman he was publicly pursuing. It was likely even expected of him; he’d never courted a woman before, but the expectation seemed logical.

  Darcy excused himself without ceremony from the group around him. That shimmering green vision moved in his peripheral sight. A moment later he found her.

  Elizabeth was talking to one of the women from Meryton; Lucas, was her name. They were laughing when he approached.

  Elizabeth laughed often. Spending any amount of time with her would confirm it.

  Darcy rather thought he could use more laughter in his life.

  “Miss Lucas,” he said. “Would you object to my stealing away your companion?”

  “Not at all, my lord,” she answered, smiling at him. “And might I compliment you on your very good taste in choosing your company?”

  Darcy returned her smile. “I could as easily compliment your choice in friends,” he said. Darcy turned and bowed before Miss Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, might I have the next two dances?”

  “I thought you didn’t dance,” she said. He’d managed to surprise her, he observed; his precipitous proposal aside, he’d never managed to surprise her before.

  “I don’t,” he conceded. “But I have it on good authority that society will cast me out if I do not at least attempt the act this evening.”

  “As the ball is given in your name, we cannot have that,” she said dryly.

  “Indeed.”

  Miss Elizabeth said goodbye to her friend as Darcy escorted her to the line. The music began and they moved into the dance.

  “For a man who does not care for dancing, you dance rather well, my lord,” Miss Elizabeth said a few moments later.

  “I think the skill of my partner renders me thus,” he said, baldly and without flattery. It was true; Miss Elizabeth was an excellent dancer. She made him better. Still, the compliment made her blush.

  “You needn’t flatter me, Darcy,” she said on the next turn. “We understand each other, you and I.”

  Here the music separated them once more. Darcy was grateful; the respite prevented him from revealing his thoughts, which had grown more sentimental and sweet every minute that passed.

  * * *

  When the second dance had finished, Elizabeth found a seat by her sister Mary.

  “I cannot think of a less interesting way to pass an evening,” said Mary. “I should much rather be reading.”

  “I am rather surprised you didn’t bring your book with you,” said Elizabeth, only barely attending the conversation.

  “I tried,” said Mary, her frown growing. “Mother took it away when we arrived.”

  Elizabeth smiled but her mind was occupied. She really ought to have told Darcy about the unsigned note she’d received before the ball. They’d had a half hour dancing together, almost uninterrupted; she could have mentioned it at any time. But the dance had slipped by
almost on the instant. Eerie note aside, Elizabeth could not remember having a finer night.

  She imagined anyone looking on would think them quite besotted with each other.

  That queer reflection was interrupted by a servant speaking her name nearby.

  “Yes, I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” she said, standing. The servant presented her a folded piece of paper.

  Another one.

  The script was unfamiliar, not remotely like the writing on the note she’d received earlier; yet without reading a word, Elizabeth suspected she knew the contents at once.

  Chapter 12

  It was nearly dawn when the Bennets returned home from the ball, yet Elizabeth found she was not tired. Buoyed by the unusual energy brought by the end of a thrilling night, she passed her own door and scratched gently at the door of Jane’s room.

  “Come in, Lizzy,” said Jane quietly. “I knew you would not be sleeping yet.”

  “I’m surprised you’re still awake,” said Elizabeth, closing the door quietly behind her. “If Mr. Bingley had tried to dance with you anymore you’d have been married by now.”

  Jane blushed. “He was not inappropriate.”

  “Of course not,” said Elizabeth. “I’m only teasing. But you must admit, the man could barely stand to speak to anyone but you. I can hardly criticize him for it; you were quite my favorite person in the room, too.”

  “Excepting your earl, you mean,” said Jane with a small smile. “I saw you dancing with him.”

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth. Her voice failed her a moment.

  “He must like you very much,” said Jane. Her sweet sister would never pry, would never ask an untoward question; it was that fact which compelled Elizabeth to confide in her sister at long last.

  “Jane, I must tell you something,” she said. “About me and Darcy.”

  “Oh, no, Lizzy,” said Jane, alarmed. “What has happened? Has he broken with you?”

  “No, it’s not that,” said Elizabeth. “It’s only…”

  She hardly knew where to begin.

  “Our courtship is not the customary sort.”

  Jane’s answer was tentative. “You do seem especially well matched, if that’s what you mean.”

  “No,” said Elizabeth. The words caused a sharp pang in the vicinity of her chest; what that pain could mean, she knew not. “Jane, our courtship is a farce.”

  “What on earth can you mean, Lizzy? It’s public knowledge.”

  “And too well do I know it,” said Elizabeth. She came to sit beside her sister on the bed. “Darcy – when he first found out about the late Earl's passing – asked me to pose as his fiancée for a short time.”

  “Why would he do that?” cried Jane. “Do not tell me you agreed. What could possibly entice you to go along with such a scheme?”

  “Jane, do you remember the morning we left Netherfield?”

  “There was a pack of carriages in the lane,” said her sister. “I remember that.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Such a crowd that we could not get home in time for breakfast that day, remember? It was ages before the road was clear enough for us to pass.”

  “I do remember that. The new coachman was quite beside himself.”

  “He was. Jane, that crush was the first wave of visitors at Netherfield who came to visit the new, unmarried earl of Matlock,” said Elizabeth. “Our own mother and sisters went to see him that day.”

  “I’d forgotten that part,” said Jane. “The news of his peerage was in the paper that morning; Lydia was beside herself that we’d heard about the news first before it even went to print.”

  Elizabeth nodded again.

  “His aunt issued the announcement to encourage him to find a wife quickly. Darcy complied, but only inasmuch as he had to.”

  “And so rather than agree to pose as his fiancée, you permit him to court you instead,” said Jane. “To satisfy his social commitments.”

  “Primarily that,” said Elizabeth. “It also buys him time to find himself a proper wife without being inundated by every marriage-mart-miss in the country.”

  “Oh,” said Jane, cringing. “I suppose I can see why he would feel compelled to entertain such subterfuge.”

  “Can you?” said Elizabeth, with a smile. “Then you are a better woman than I. I confess, I denied his request for help until he offered me payment.”

  “Lizzy!”

  “You would not expect me to perform for nothing, surely,” said Elizabeth. The look, the outright disbelief on her sister’s face made her laugh aloud. “He is not giving me money.”

  Jane’s expression gave way to horror.

  “Jane!” cried Elizabeth, laughing in earnest now. “Jane! What do you think me capable of?”

  “Stop your laughing,” said Jane. “You’ll wake the others! Now tell me at once, what on earth are you talking about? If he is not giving you money, what compensation will you receive?”

  Elizabeth’s laughter died, for these facts were not a laughing matter.

  “I tell you all of this because you are my dearest friend and sister, and my only true confidant,” said Elizabeth. “Please, do not speak a word of any of it. In exchange for my small service, Darcy has offered to establish dowries for you all.”

  Jane was rendered speechless.

  “I tell you all this now, because something else has happened and I need your advice,” Elizabeth continued. She withdrew the two notes from the book in her hand and handed them to her sister.

  Jane unfolded them and read, her face flushing at the first then going white at the second as she read it aloud.

  “Slattern. Go back to your farm and leave the gentleman alone. He deserves better. You’ll get what you deserve soon enough.” Jane set the pages down with a shaking hand. “Good God, Lizzy.”

  “Yes,” replied Elizabeth quietly. “I do not think the author poses any real threat, but I find I am unsure of my own judgement in this case.”

  “You are brave, braver than I should be in your situation. But why should you doubt yourself in this?” asked Jane. “Unless…”

  “Unless,” continued Elizabeth. “Unless I have been foolish enough to think that my understanding with the gentleman is real.” She stood, walking over to the window. “I have been a fool before, Jane. I am not so great a fool as that.”

  Jane did not immediately answer. The quality of her silence gave Elizabeth the distinct impression that Jane was steeling herself against the unpleasantness of the situation.

  “Lizzy, you know I respect your judgement more than anyone’s, better than even my own,” said Jane quietly. “But no dowry, no one’s dowry, is worth risking your life. I would not have you risk yourself for something of so little consequence.”

  “It is not of little consequence,” said Elizabeth. “You know as well as I, our chances of making a satisfactory match are slim at best. To make an advantageous match is certainly out of the question, save in your case. I’ve not seen the equal to your beauty, and I believe it will serve you well when it comes to marriage.”

  Elizabeth did not mention Mr. Bingley.

  “But for the rest of us,” she continued. “We have little between us to recommend ourselves. Four dowries between five sisters would buy our father and mother more than a little peace of mind.”

  “Only four dowries?” asked Jane, confused.

  “It was my express wish to be excluded from the agreement,” admitted Elizabeth.

  “I am surprised Mr. Darcy –that is, his lordship– agreed to it.”

  “I believe the man would have agreed to nearly anything I asked,” said Elizabeth, smiling a little at the memory. “He was terrified of all those mamas and their unmarried daughters, I am absolutely certain.”

  “I see that you intend to continue helping him,” said Jane, more serious than before. “But I cannot think of the matter with any measure of peace; not while you’re in danger.”

  “I am not at all convinced I’m in danger,” replied Elizabeth. She h
eld up her hand before Jane could speak again. “But that is why I came to you, do you see? I do wish to help him, and I am afraid there might be dangers I have not yet perceived. You say you trust my good judgement, Jane; I trust yours as well,” she said. “Well, inasmuch as I can, considering you think too well of everybody on earth in general.”

  “You are teasing again, I think,” said Jane.

  “I am,” said Elizabeth with a smile; it faded rapidly. “If even you would take issue with the tone of these letters, Jane, then I had best back out of the arrangement.”

  “I think that is prudent,” said Jane softly. “Though I am sorry to cause pain to his lordship.”

  “I very much doubt his lordship will feel pain over this,” said Elizabeth wryly. “Except perhaps the inconvenience of having to deal with all those women.”

  Elizabeth hugged her sister and bade her good night. She did not care for the feeling of loss that followed her into sleep, nor did she endeavor to understand it.

  * * *

  Breakfast that morning was late indeed, as breakfast after a ball always was. Elizabeth was first to attend it; sleep had been ill-gotten after her consultation with Jane. She had joked about causing Darcy no pain, but she dreaded the action before her nonetheless. She would have to seek him out at the first opportunity, before any more ill will could be cast in her family’s direction.

  Better to keep herself safe, and them as well. If the author of those notes had any tangible intent to do harm, Elizabeth could not bring it any nearer to her family.

  She briefly considered just sending him the notes and an explanation of her withdrawal; it would be easier to avoid witnessing his disappointment. But while she might endeavor to put distance between herself and danger for her family’s sake, Elizabeth found she could not stomach the cowardice of avoiding Darcy now.

  She heard stirring in the house; at least two of her sisters had risen. If the tone of the argument was any indication, the two were Lydia and Kitty. Resolved to act as soon as possible, Elizabeth rose from her seat.