“Kissing!” he completed the sentence that she could not.
She turned her eyes upon him in confusion, a blush rising in her cheeks. Only minutes before she had yielded to his boldest touch, yet her purity remained unshaken. He, meanwhile, wasconscious that in proposing to her in such a fashion, he had robbed them of those earlier tokens—glances, stolen touches, and tender phrases—which new lovers often cherish before an engagement. Yet he was not repentant; his only wish was to make her his wife and take her to Pemberley without delay.
∞∞∞
They found Mary in the library, almost hidden behind a small fortress of volumes, which she would open with enthusiasm only to set aside after a few pages, reaching for another in a sort of blissful intoxication.
She blushed to see them together; she had read many times about love, but it was the first time she had perceived the reality of that emotion. It was a discovery, like a new road that had opened in front of her.
“Where is Lady Matlock?” Elizabeth asked.
“Gone to see a friend. She apologised for not taking me, but she was like a crusader before a fight.”
Elizabeth smiled at that image—the fragile yet determined lady ready to engage in any war for her son.
Darcy, however, understood more fully. “My aunt commands an army of friends who can be merciless towards those they dislike. They destroy reputations with a few words murmured in the right ear. Yet, if one of their circle is threatened, they unite as an impenetrable wall against the common foe.”
“Is she going to tell them of our discoveries?” Elizabeth asked, somewhat concerned, as she took a seat upon a nearby couch.
“No, certainly not. She will wish only to learn whether her friends know something about Miss Henry that a prospective mother-in-law ought to know.”
“Goodness, I do not know if that is wise. What if the colonel has already married her?”
Darcy sank into a chair, and once more his countenance betrayed both anxiety and fatigue. Elizabeth saw the deep lines of weariness about his eyes; doubtless, he had slept little of late.
“You should rest,” she said.
“I shall rest when the matter is resolved. I trust my aunt knows what she is about, for our aim is to rescue Richard from a perilous situation, not to endanger his standing in society. Were he married, it would be disastrous for her to unleash damaging tales of his wife.”
“Unleash?” Elizabeth echoed, startled by the force of the word.
“Yes. In London, such rumours do not circulate unless released by someone of influence.
“It is so strange and different. In our world, if someone makes a mistake, gossip spreads, and no one can stop it. When my grandmother told her daughters that Sophia wasincreasing, nobody cared about Sophia’s reputation or that of her family. In Meryton, the gossip is ruthless, and no one can survive such a story. In London, it seems someone has to ‘unleash’ the news before the party destroys someone’s life.”
“I cannot say which method is worse,” Darcy replied. “I never thought about gossip’s appearance and spread. While Lady Matlock’s society would not harm Richard because of an affair of the heart, they would be ruthless for a story of treason. If he married her, I do not think it would be possible for them to live near his parents. So, at this point, I would have preferred my aunt to stay home.”
“Perhaps Miss Henry is not guilty at all—merely an instrument,” Mary ventured, feeling for the first time as though she were living inside the very pages of a novel.
“I doubt it. No innocent woman would deliberately seek an officer in Brighton for the sake of matrimony.”
My sister Lydia would, thought Elizabeth, but she refused to tell him of such thoughts.He must like my family…as much as possible.
“Remember,” Darcy continued, “my aunt once praised Miss Henry for influencing Richard to take up a post in London. I believe her aim was less to protect him from the dangers of the war than to have him working in the War Office. She is clever—that much is certain.”
“Still, she might be innocent,” Elizabeth made a last attempt, but Darcy shook his head vigorously.
“If your French father urged you to marry an officer employed in the War Office, what would you conclude?” he asked them both. Mary blushed, flattered by his including her in so direct a question.
“You are right, sir,” Mary answered. “Even without full disclosure, I should suspect something odd.”
“At least odd,” Elizabeth agreed.
“Unless we act with the greatest caution, my cousin may face very grave consequences.”
He was desperate, and Elizabeth could do nothing. She wanted him to join her on the couch and take him into her arms, yet it was impossible.
“I have to go home,” he whispered.
