Lady Harriette, page 11
Elizabeth looked pointedly at Darcy. “She is with child.”
Darcy ventured into her apartment and observed Elizabeth standing there. She likely had not even heard him cross the room, for she startled a bit when he reached out to her. Determined to protect her from undue vexation, he had decided he would meet this problem head on. The mere thought of her suffering in silence was untenable. His wife—his gentle flower that bloomed regardless of the season—meant the world to him.
Darcy walked behind Elizabeth and placed both hands on her sides. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, allowing his breath to caress her neck. She trembled and he surely did too. Nervous anticipation filled the air.
“Are you alright, my love?”
Elizabeth did not pull away. A very good sign.
“I am,” she said, her voice indicating a measure of reservation he wished he only imagined.
“We have been here before, you and I.”
“Yes, but it is different now.”
“Indeed. I have changed. We have changed. We have grown as a couple.” Darcy pulled her a bit closer.
She turned her head and studied his face. Teardrops pooled in her eyes. “Yes, we have come a long way.”
“Where do we go from here? How does all this affect us?”
“I suppose we shall make the best of things throughout the coming months. In time, these memories associated with that painful period will fade, and our normal routine will ensue.”
No—not months. He did not want to waste another minute suffering silent recrimination. It would not do.
“Pray tell me you suffer no doubt whatsoever of where my affections lie. My feelings for you have never wavered. I have always wanted you—”
Darcy trailed kisses along her neckline. Elizabeth leaned into his embrace. “I have always needed you.”
She turned around to face him. He traced his finger along her jawline and kissed her on her cheek. “Only you.” He felt her heartbeat through her muslin gown. He kissed her and kissed her again. The salty taste of tears on his lips led him to cease his tender ministrations. He wiped away a tear trailing down her face. This misfortune had caused her far more grief than she had willingly conceded.
He brushed his lips against hers—so soft and sweet; he gently plied them apart. “Only you,” he said once more. His tongue caressed, and then danced with hers.
The awkwardness of coming face to face with her husband’s past disquieted her. His intoxicating kisses carried her to a place she did not intend to go—raised questions she cared not to have answered. Did that other woman know the touch of his lips against hers as well? Elizabeth eased away from his kiss. “I want to go home.”
“To Pemberley? It is late, Elizabeth, and this is not a night for travel.”
“Then what say you we leave as soon as can be?”
“Of course. We shall return to Pemberley as soon as we can.” He attempted to kiss her again, but she turned away and headed to the vanity and sat. Darcy clutched his hands behind his back. “Shall we dress for dinner with Richard and Harriette, or would you rather have your meal in your apartment?”
Elizabeth wiped her eyes. “No—we shall dine with Richard and Harriette—the same as always.”
Darcy approached her from behind and placed his hands on her bare shoulders. Gazing in her eyes through the mirror’s reflection, he said, “Thank you, Elizabeth.”
She arched her brow quizzically. “Why are you thanking me?”
He combed his fingers through her loosened hair. “This situation is wrought with discomfort. I suppose I was not certain how you would regard Richard and his wife.”
“Of course I do not blame them for this difficult turn of events. However, now that we know what the next months hold, I am rather certain they will understand that while I cannot speak for you, I shall not spend very much time here in the discernible future.”
“You will understand I cannot make such a promise. If and when Richard needs me, I will return.”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip; thus avoided saying what was on her mind. She pretended more acceptance of the situation than she truly felt.
He sat beside her. Darcy ran his fingers along the length of her neckline and rested them under her chin. He raised her head and their eyes met. “Elizabeth, please tell me you understand.”
Elizabeth abruptly stood and paced to the other side of the room. “I suppose I have no voice in the matter. Thus I am bound to show understanding.”
“You might express your reservations as long as you understand this has to do with Richard. I can do no less than honour our friendship regardless of the adversity.”
He followed her. Darcy drew his wife into his embrace and lowered her head against his chest. “As long as my friendship with Richard does not impede my putting you and our son first in my life, I shall always be there for him whenever he needs me.”
She knew better than to argue with him when it came to his unbreakable ties with his cousin. But if he supposed this matter was settled, he had better think again. “I would never presume otherwise.” Elizabeth broke free of his arms, headed for the door, and opened it—her way of inviting him to leave. “I shall meet you downstairs at dinner, Mr. Darcy.”
Chapter 15 ~ Of Sound and Fury
Richard pored over the correspondence once again. This was just the break he had been hoping for. Bolton had turned up in London. Richard was determined to travel there and seek retribution. As a former army colonel who had seen his share of mayhem and destruction. He dared not vouch for how he might handle the thief once he got his hands on him.
It was some weeks since he had last spoken to his cousin. It was just as well, for Richard knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Darcy would want to play this to the letter of the law. Richard was in no mood for such formalities. No—in this instance, he would handle things his way.
Richard pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved one of two pistols. He was holding it in his hand when the door of his study swung open, and in walked his cousin.
Darcy’s eyes went from the pistol in his cousin’s hands to his cousin’s eyes and back to the gun. “My God, man! Has it come to this?”
Richard shook his head. He furrowed his brow. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Darcy strode to the desk and shepherded over his cousin. “I leave you to your own devices for a mere two weeks, and I return in time to find you contemplating your own demise.”
Richard waved the gun. “This? Is that what you think? Do not be ridiculous!”
Darcy edged back. “What am I to think? I walk in and find you studying your pistol intently—looking as if the whole world is against you. What is happening with you, Richard?”
Richard laid the gun on his desk. Having sat in the same attitude for a while, he stood and stretched his long legs. He walked to his liquor cabinet. “Will you join me for a drink?”
“Not until you tell me what you are about,” Darcy said, pulling up a comfortable chair.
Richard said nothing whilst he poured his drink, one of his finest liquors. He took a long swig and enjoyed the warmth of the beverage as it slid down his throat. He immediately poured another. Turning to his cousin, he said, “Actually, I was contemplating my options as regards Bolton. I have a promising lead on his whereabouts—one I intend to pursue.”
“And you suppose a violent confrontation might ensue? I was of the opinion Bolton was greedy not malicious.”
Richard headed back to his desk and threw himself down in his chair. “There is no telling what the prospect of being cornered might do to a man. I mean to put all options on the table. I will allow for any outcome. Were you in my predicament, I am rather certain you would do the same.”
“This is a precarious situation—no doubt. What have you learnt?”
Richard had questions of his own. “Pray, Darcy, why are you here?”
“I was under no impression I needed justification for calling on Beaconwood at leisure.”
“Yes, well, considering the circumstances hereabouts with Annabelle, supposing that is her true name, I was under the impression Beaconwood is the last place in the world you would want to be. Unless—”
Darcy held up his hand. “Do not start that nonsense again. This is a very serious matter, and you know it.”
“Yes—of course. Did Elizabeth travel here with you?”
Darcy shook his head. “Elizabeth remains at Pemberley.”
Richard’s eyes opened wide. “Does she even know you are here?”
Darcy crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you suppose I would travel all this way and not tell my wife of my plans?” Darcy stood and walked to the liquor cabinet. After pouring himself a drink, he faced his cousin. “Look, Richard. I know exactly where you are going with this. This is a terrible situation. There is no denying it, but we must carry on with our lives.”
“Indeed. It might help to know that Annabelle, despite her condition, does not seem to cause disruptions below stairs. I have no reason to believe she has been indiscrete. Mrs. Donaldson has been a stalwart in preventing the truth of Annabelle’s past from coming to light amongst the staff. The woman remains below stairs and is seldom seen.”
Darcy sipped his drink. His eyes fixed out the window, he muttered, “Interesting.” After a moment, he returned to his seat. “Perhaps, we might get back to the matter at hand—Bolton.”
“Yes—well, I plan to travel to London as soon as I can.”
“Does Harriette know? Are you taking her with you?”
“I had not planned to.”
“Then unless you object, I will join you on this sojourn.”
“It is not that I object, but how will you explain your decision to journey to London to your lovely wife?”
“I imagine my lovely wife will be as amenable to whatever reason I provide as your lovely wife will be. Have you informed her?”
“No, not in so many words. I suspect she will want to join me rather than remain here at Beaconwood.”
“You might recommend she visit Elizabeth at Pemberley whilst you and I are in town.”
“On the other hand, we might just invite our wives to come with us. We shall make it a holiday.” Richard congratulated himself on his bout of acuity. “In this way there would be no need for subterfuge. The ladies will no doubt enjoy time in London where they will have ample opportunity to shop and attend teas, or whatever ladies do when in London. What say you, Darcy?”
“I suppose it is an agreeable scheme. I do not imagine Elizabeth would forego any opportunity to visit the Gardiners. Shall we plan to head for London by the end of the week?”
“Indeed.”
“Excellent! I shall have my steward make the necessary travel arrangements upon my return to Pemberley.”
Harriette’s suspicion had unfettered reign to rear its worrisome head of late. Richard was being far too secretive. What was he about? Harriette did not quite accept the notion that only Darcy bore fault in the Annabelle scandal. She knew her husband and Darcy were too close for Richard to be completely beyond reproach. Too many questions went unanswered. Richard spent too much time in silent reflection. Clearly, something was bothering him, but he was not at all forthcoming as to the root of his discontent.
Richard, Darcy, and even Elizabeth, Harriette suspected, were conspiring to keep her uninformed regarding the truth—the entire story about Annabelle. She would have accused her husband, but what was she to accuse him of in light of the wall of silence the three of them had erected?
Who is Annabelle—really? Darcy owned a portion of his past with the woman, but for goodness sake, she was a courtesan. For years she resided in a brothel. Harriette ventured as far as asking her maid if she had ever heard of such a place. Madame Adele’s. She imagined what it must be like in such an establishment. Oh, to become the proverbial fly on the wall—privy to the otherwise respectable gentlemen of the ton and their not so respectable proclivities.
Courtesans were at liberty to frolic with as many gentlemen callers as they wished. If Darcy frequented the brothel house, she knew her husband well enough to know he surely did too. If one associated with that woman, why would the other not?
Such were the questions that filled Harriette’s head each day even as she tried pretending they did not. Oh, how she hated being kept uninformed. She must find the answers on her own. It might take a bit of time, but she would discover what her husband was about.
Chapter 16 ~ Trust a Few
All the way home in the carriage to Stafford House, few words were spoken between the Fitzwilliams. The only reason Richard had even agreed to stay at her parents’ London home was because her parents were not in town. Otherwise, he would have insisted upon staying at Darcy House. He had been terribly distracted during the course of dinner with the Darcys, where once again they were treated to the Gardiners’ company.
Harriette said, “I did not say anything earlier, but I cannot help noticing you have been exceedingly quiet this evening.”
Tearing his eyes away from the carriage window, Richard looked at his wife. “Pardon me, my lady. It is true. I have a great deal on my mind this evening.”
She leaned forward and placed her gloved hand upon his knee. “Oh? Would you care to discuss the matter which has you so distracted, with your wife?”
He covered her hand with his. “It is nothing you need be concerned with.”
Harriette moved to sit beside her husband. “What concerns you—concerns me. Surely you must know that. I should not have to tell you.”
Richard lifted his arm and folded his wife into his embrace. He brushed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Truly, you need not worry yourself.”
Harriette pulled away from his affectionate embrace. “Please, do not patronise me, dear husband.” She peered at him. “Is it not my duty to be a good and supportive wife? How can I possibly help if you will not discuss what is bothering you? Or shall I speak with Darcy? No doubt he is fully versed in all aspects of your day-to-day existence. Do not think it went unobserved that he was the only person you gave any notice to this evening.”
Richard said nothing. He fixed his gaze back out the window.
Oh, how she hated feeling shut out like this! “Richard Fitzwilliam!”
Again, he turned to look at her with a look suggesting he had not the slightest indication what she was talking about. Exceedingly vexed, Harriette was about to remove herself to the seat opposite him as she had been just moments before. As she rose, he reached out and pulled her back towards him.
“No—stay. I confess I am rather preoccupied this evening. It has to do with a disagreement Darcy and I are having. As it has to do more with him than with me, I am not at liberty to discuss it is all.”
Harriette did not accept his feeble attempt at appeasement one bit. “Funny how Darcy seems nowhere near as troubled by your disagreement as you are.”
Richard cleared his throat. “I am sure he does a better job hiding his true feelings from the world.”
Harriette wagered there was a bit of merit in her husband’s assertion. How many times had her dear friend Elizabeth opined about the infamous Darcy mask of indifference? Indeed, if there were a significant difference between the two men—it would be that. Where Darcy came off as haughty and aloof to all those who did not know his true character, her husband Richard was amiable and agreeable to close acquaintances and strangers alike. That was even more reason for her to be perplexed, even a bit worried by his attitude of late. Something was troubling him. Whatever it was, he did not intend for her to know.
The hum of the carriage rolling down the street gave way to silent musings on Harriette’s part. Of course, her threat of asking Darcy did not even warrant a raised eyebrow from her husband. He had to know there was as much chance of Darcy breaking one of their confidences as there was a chance of the sun rising in the west.
Shared confidences—that immediately set Harriette’s mind off on the secret that was shared between her husband, Darcy, and Elizabeth as regarded Annabelle. Elizabeth remained close-mouthed as she did not wish to betray her own husband’s confidence. What if Darcy’s secret is really my husband’s? Perchance Darcy’s confidence directly tied into the particulars Richard wished to shield from her—information about his own rakish past. Richard was not forthcoming at all as regards the women of his past. When asked, he adamantly affirmed there had been no involvement with Annabelle. To her question on whether he had been tempted, even once by the young courtesan, he would only say he did not have carnal knowledge of that woman. Such an evasive response raised additional questions—all of which he gave no answer.
When the carriage arrived in front of Stafford House, Richard appeared most eager to open the door and jump out. He turned to offer his wife a hand. Walking arm and arm with him up the stair steps to the grand exterior door, she felt his tense muscles. The instant they were inside the house, he kissed her gloved hand. “Good night, my love.”
Harriette tried to hide her amazement. “Is this the last I am to see of you this evening? Do you not intend to join me?”
Richard stood straight and clutched his hands behind his back. “Actually, no—not tonight. I believe I shall have a drink or two in your father’s study before retiring. I shall see you in the morning.”
The two were at a stand-off as neither moved an inch. She was shocked. His stance smacked of determination. Harriette placed her hands on her waist and huffed. “Very well then, dear husband. I shall see you in the morning.”
With that, she turned swiftly and headed up the stairs. Arriving in her room, she threw her things down and sulked. How dare he? Moments later, Becky arrived to attend her.
Harriette awakened less than an hour after she had drifted asleep with a pang of guilt. She had fallen asleep thinking unseemly things about her husband when, in fact, he deserved none of it. Surely he is entitled to be in low spirits upon occasion. She creased her brow. She missed falling asleep in his arms. Even when they argued, being close to him had always brought her such comfort.
