There was a rustling and a thud. Lizzie looked around, distracted, and bit her lip at the sight of the pile of papers falling to the floor.
“What were you doing?” she asked. Darcy looked down at the scattered papers with distaste.
“Accounts, surveys… everything I own, written down and tallied up. But this was my chief concern.”
He opened the desk drawer and took out a small envelope. The edges were soft and aged. An ornate wax seal had once bound it shut but now crumbled against his fingertips.
“What is it?”
“An agreement between my mother and my aunt, saying that I would marry my cousin Anne. I had thought to return it. Take off your dress, angel.”
Elizabeth shivered at the sudden change in his tone. It was possessive, commanding, as if the thought of his arranged marriage had brought his love for her into shining clarity. Her hands obeyed with difficulty, for they were starting to tremble. Her heart thudded and her voice sounded lost, “I do not understand. Why give it back?”
“The last time I saw my aunt, she thought me her property.” Darcy ran his thumb along Elizabeth’s lower lip, his eyes black and hungry, “I do not belong to anyone but you, my angel. You own me, body and soul. And you are mine. Say it, Elizabeth.”
“Yes, yes.” she whimpered, pulling him closer, reaching for a kiss that could not come soon enough. “I am yours.”
The desk, despite being sturdily made, creaked alarmingly throughout their vigorous lovemaking. Because of that, and the mindless haze of their shared passion, they did not hear the carriage arriving until it was almost at the door. The clatter of gravel and the raised voices of the servants brought them back to their senses. It was like being doused in ice water. Elizabeth sat bolt upright and nervously looked around for her dress.
“My aunt is too well-bred to look through windows.” Darcy laughed, trying to catch his breath. “But you are right. We cannot receive her like this.”
Elizabeth groaned and pushed him away. Her dress was on the ground beside his feet; she slid off the desk to pick it up. Her fingers trembled with delicious lassitude and anxious haste. Darcy caught her just before she slipped it over her head and kissed her. It was a fierce, passionate kiss, and then he released her without another word. It only took the man a moment to shrug on both his shirt and an easy air of complete indifference. When he looked out of the window his eyes were completely flat.
Elizabeth watched the man she loved turning into another woman’s foe.
A strange thought struck her, as she tidied her hair. She had not just watched Darcy make himself aloof, she had watched him prepare himself for battle. It was a pernicious notion, for she knew that under other circumstances, a gentleman would reach for a fortifying shot of port or whisky.
Elizabeth slowly started to brush creases from her skirt. It was an unfair thought, but she could not help feeling as if Darcy hadusedher.
Stop pretending you are too innocent to understand what I want.
She thought that she had helped Darcy to banish his demon. Now, she started to wonder if she hadreplacedit.
She rubbed her hands together nervously and looked up. He looked back at her. The transformation was immediate. His eyes warmed, his shoulders relaxed. Darcy glowed with such love for her that Elizabeth could not bear it. She crossed the room at once and hugged him - not passionately, but with her own endless love. He had not used her any more than she would use him. They were not two individuals, struggling with two wretched foes. They were allies, two halves of the same soul, and if he needed her help then she would give it with all of her heart.
Chapter 76
Lady Catherine de Bourgh was accustomed to getting her own way. Upon her arrival at Pemberley, she quickly learned that things were going to bedifferenthere.
She was not greeted by any of the family. This would have been a shocking oversight, had she not arrived much earlier than they were expecting. She could hardly expect them to spend their afternoon staring through the windows, trying to spot her like a monkey in a menagerie. It was irritating to be received by the servants, but it was notoffensive.Upon reflection, the lady decided that she preferred it this way. She was a little rumpled from the journey and wished to begin her business here looking every bit as confident outside as she felt within.
Then there was a second irritation. The housekeeper directed her to the wrong room! When Lady Catherine pointed out this error, the servant had the gall to disagree!
Yes,technically,the comfort of the mistress’s sister might be thought of before the preference of the master’s aunt. But Lady Catherine allowed herself to seethe at being usurped by a fifteen-year-old country miss.
The Ivory Room was identical to the Amber Room in all the vital ways. They were the same size, decorated in the same manner,and even looked out upon the same part of the garden. There was nothing that Catherine could find to criticise in her new room that would not also apply to the other.
So, the long-suffering Lady allowed her maid to unpack.
She did not rush her toilette. Every time Abbott went downstairs to bring up water or refreshments, she also returned with information. Lady Catherine did not think of this as underhanded. She was a guest at Pemberley, not to mention part of the family, and should thus be privy to all of its intrigue.
Over the next hour, as she recovered from the arduous carriage journey, Lady Catherine discovered details of all of the current guests. The majority of them, it seemed, were a tribe of sisters that belonged to the new Mrs. Darcy.
Four sisters! No brothers, as far as she knew. That explained why one of them had been willing to throw good sense aside and marry a drunk. Lady Catherine knew that her class had the privilege of choice and could refuse such unpleasantness. She was not ignorant to the desperation of the less fortunate, nor unaware of the sacrifices a woman might be willing to make for a fortune. Still, a drunk was just as likely to destroy his fortune and property as he was to rot his liver.
Miss Bennet, Lady Catherine decided, was either very brave or very foolish. The older woman was leaning towards ‘brave’, for she credited the young lady with Darcy’s surprising redemption. Due to alarming stories she had been told about the lady, however, her final opinion had yet to be formed; she would reserve judgement for when she met Mrs. Darcy in person.
What an exhausting meeting that would be. Lady Catherine knew that she would have to advise the poor woman. She was so out of her depth in so many ways. She had proven that shehad a remarkable talent for controlling the excesses of a drunken husband, but that did not mean she could manage a grand house like Pemberley.
