Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions Page 17

  Luckily, he needed to do very little, since they were both married to respectable men now.

  No, it wasn’t a lack of love that made him despair of his sister’s company, it was truly the fact that they talked too much. When it had only been Caroline at home, it had been a bit bearable, for Caroline had no one to converse with besides him, and he had chosen not to answer much of the time, which had meant that she would fall silent. But when they were both at home with him at the same time, they talked rather incessantly, and about all manner of things that were of no consequence, such as the color of bonnets or the thickness of the ribbon that trimmed a coat. They could converse on such a subject for hours. It was abominable.

  Now, they were both here to see him. And it wasn’t on a planned occasion, such as a dinner or a party. No, instead, they had just come to call upon him, both at once. A servant had come to tell him so, and now he stood frozen, reeling from the news. His sisters were both in his sitting room at that very moment.

  What was it that they could possibly want?

  It must be about Miss Bennet.

  He had sent word to them both, by letter, that he was going to marry. He expected neither of them would be pleased about it. After all, they had not liked Miss Bennet when he had first met her, deeming her connections too inferior for him. But he thought that his sisters were both largely motivated by attempting to raise themselves in society and thought that their brother’s diminishment might harm their station. But now, they were more well known by their connections to their husbands than their connections to him. He did not see it as an issue. Even if it was, it was his business, not theirs, and he would do as he pleased.

  Of course, he had sent them word before the news had broken all over London of Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lydia. Now, everyone knew of all the sordidness of the Bennet clan. Now, all was changed.

  That did not mean he wished to listen to his sisters babble about such things. But he could not very well cast them out into the streets. They were his relations, and he had no choice but to go and greet them.

  So, he did just that. On his way, he stopped in to ask the housekeeper to make sure that an abundance of cakes and biscuits might be brought up to the sitting room. If his sisters were chewing, they could not be talking, at least that was what he reckoned.

  When he entered the room, Louisa and Caroline both stood. They were both wearing white dresses trimmed with pale colored ribbons. They both had furrows in their brow as if something terrible had happened, like a death in the family. Caroline was actually wringing her hands.

  “Oh, dear, Charles,” said Louisa. “What a pickle you have gotten yourself into.”

  “You have to break the engagement,” said Caroline.

  He strode through the room and went to a chair and sat down.

  They both sat down on couches that flanked him, crossing their legs and leaning close to him.

  “You mustn’t worry that there will be any legal repercussions,” said Caroline. “You weren’t so foolish as to put it in writing, were you?”

  “Even if you were, it is not likely that the Bennet family would be able to bring suit,” said Louisa.

  “Well, they do seem to have all the money flowing in through Miss Swan,” said Caroline. “Have you seen the dresses she wears to the opera?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that a man must buy her jewelry just to have an audience with her,” said Louisa.

  “Why do men want women like her?” said Caroline. “I can’t understand it. She is used and damaged goods. It makes no sense to me why any man would pay to be with a courtesan when he has a good and proper wife at home who has kept herself virtuous for him.”

  “Yes, it is abominable,” said Louisa. “Men are so horrid.” She looked at her brother. “Except you, Charles. We all know that you would never be associated with such a practice.”

  “Which is why you will break the engagement,” said Caroline. “In all truth, you should never have asked for her hand in the first place. Lord, I cannot understand what it is that you see in that woman. She is the lowest of the low.”

  “Sweet, of course,” said Louisa. “A very sweet personality.”

  “Oh, to be sure,” said Caroline. “It is almost a pity she was saddled with such sisters.”

  “But it must be the fault of the parents, do you not think?” said Louisa. “Why that mother of hers, I heard that she racked up debt before keeling over, and she conducted herself in a most improper manner on every occasion that we met with her. Why, I think it positively miraculous that the eldest Miss Bennet ever could comport herself with any civility at all with such a guiding hand in her formative years.”

  “Oh, I wholeheartedly agree, sister.”

  “Of course you do. Anyone would.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Indeed.”

  They both turned to look at Bingley.

  He looked back and forth between them. “Are you quite done?”

  “Well, we haven’t had much to say,” said Caroline. “Only that you—”

  “Must break off the engagement with Miss Bennet,” said Bingley. “Yes, I have heard you. Is there anything else you wish to say?”

  “Are you going to break it off?” said Louisa. “I really think you must.”

  Bingley rubbed his chin. “Well, I hear what you are saying.”

  “And you offer no argument?” said Caroline.

  “I do not,” said Bingley.

  “Oh, dear, thank goodness,” said Louisa. “I thought we’d have to wrestle you kicking and screaming to our way of thinking.”

  A maid entered the room with a platter of cakes.

  Bingley gestured. “Perhaps you’d care for some refreshment?”

  * * *

  Elizabeth sent a letter back to Mr. Darcy telling him that she did not blame him for what Wickham had done. It was no one’s fault, truly, but she could not help but feel as though the punishments for her transgressions were being visited on her sisters, and she was sorry for it.

  She did inform her sisters about what had happened, and Lydia seemed aghast when she heard that Wickham had done it.

  “I shall skin him alive,” said Lydia. “No, I shall bar him from entering my house. That would show him. He cannot live without me.”

  Elizabeth knew that Lydia cared about the plight of her sisters, but in all truth, Lydia was the least affected by the news. She had already been Miss Lydia Swan, the famous courtesan. Nothing had been done to change her reputation. Elizabeth would have liked to think that Lydia would punish Wickham, but she didn’t really expect her to. Lydia and Wickham had that strange bond that Elizabeth couldn’t understand.

  She couldn’t term it love, though they had been connected for many years now, because they both seemed so willing to share the other with a multitude of others. That couldn’t be love, or if it was, it was a love that Elizabeth didn’t understand.

  And for all that, Wickham was a horrible person.

  But when Jane said something similar, calling Wickham names, Lydia agreed. And then took it back.

  “He is awful,” Lydia sighed. “But he simply doesn’t think things through. He has no conception of consequences. He lives entirely in the present moment, and he… well, he can be a great deal of fun sometimes.” Lydia sighed wistfully.

  “Fun?” said Jane, aghast.

  “Jane,” admonished Elizabeth. “Let it be.” There was nothing that could be said that would sever things between Wickham and Lydia. Elizabeth knew this to be true.

  Jane was trying desperately to concentrate on some embroidery, but she should not as she kept having to rip up her stitches and start over because she was making horrendous mistakes. “I don’t know what to do. Should I attempt to contact Mr. Bingley? Should I force his hand? If he has truly jilted me, I should like to know. I deserve to know.”

  “Well, he has jilted you,” said Lydia.

  “Shut up, Lydia,” said Kitty.

  “Perhaps if I send him a letter, however,” s
aid Jane, “it will only unsettle him worse and make him more inclined to wish to be rid of me.”

  “No one could wish to be rid of you,” said Elizabeth.

  “Except Mr. Bingley,” muttered Jane. “No, if it is like last time, I do not think I can bear it. To see him nearly every day, and then for him to simply be gone and never to hear from him again… I will break if it happens again. I will fall apart.”

  “You will not break,” said Elizabeth. “You are strong. And if that is what Mr. Bingley does, you are well shut of him. If he breaks off your engagement, he is a weak-willed, lily-livered sort of man who doesn’t deserve you. He did not fight for you before. He allowed Mr. Darcy to talk him out of marrying you and was too schooled by the words of his sisters. Now, if he does the same thing, you will have lost nothing, because there is no use for a man like that in your life, Jane. You will be better off without him.”

  Elizabeth meant her words to bolster Jane and lift her spirits, but Jane burst into tears and fled from the room.

  “Oh, nicely done, Lizzy,” said Mary dryly.

  Elizabeth buried her face in her hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Mr. Darcy rapped on the door of Mr. Bingley’s home. He had not called here in quite some time. He and Bingley used to be much closer, but they had drifted apart in the ensuing years. He still considered him a good friend, but he had not been to see him in what seemed like a very, very long time.

  The butler opened the door and informed him that Mr. Bingley was not at home.

  Except that Mr. Darcy could hear Mr. Bingley speaking from within the house. He was giving instructions to someone about what to do with a large amount of leftover biscuits.

  Well, so it was that way, then. Darcy knew that Bingley had not approved of his arrangement with Elizabeth, but he did not expect his friend to cut him out so insistently. But it was obvious that Bingley did not want to see him. Darcy gave the butler a sharp nod and then turned to go down the steps.

  That was when he noticed that Bingley’s carriage was waiting on the street.

  Just at that moment, the door opened, and Bingley came out, holding his hat. “Oh,” he said. “Darcy!”

  “Bingley,” said Darcy, nodding back. “I know that you do not wish to speak to me. I shall honor that. I was just on my way—”

  “I did not know it was you at the door,” said Bingley. “I am on my way out, as you can see. If you have something you wish to say to me briefly, then out with it.”

  “Oh,” said Darcy, who was now understanding the way it must have gone. Since Bingley was preparing to leave, he had instructed the servants to turn away any callers. It had not been personal after all. “Well…” He smiled. “Well, good, then. I am glad to hear it.”

  “To hear what?” Bingley was confused. “I say, Darcy, I am in a bit of a hurry, so if you don’t mind—”

  “I’ll be brief, then,” said Darcy. “I am here to plead on the behalf of Miss Bennet.”

  “Miss Elizabeth?” said Bingley.

  “No, the eldest Miss Bennet. Your intended, as I understand.”

  “And you are here on her behalf? You, who discouraged me from forming an alliance with her in the first place?”

  “Well, yes, that was… I am sorry for that. I feel as though I have already apologized when we spoke of this before.”

  “Perhaps you did. I have to admit I am confused. You obviously do not feel the family is of the proper standards to make an alliance with one of the women in it. You have reduced all of them by the way you have treated Miss Elizabeth.”

  Darcy looked away, feeling ashamed. “Yes, I will not deny it.” True, he had asked Elizabeth to marry him, but it had been too late. He had done it after he had wrecked her reputation and compromised her in all the ways that mattered. And now he had taken her completely and thoroughly. It was done, and he was whatever Bingley thought of him. He would take responsibility for himself. He would not make petty excuses.

  “It is shameful,” said Bingley.

  “Indeed,” Darcy allowed, glancing up at Bingley. “Even so, if there is any way that I could prevail upon you to honor your engagement to Miss Bennet, I would entreat you to do so. If you would but marry her, the effect on both of the younger Bennet sisters would be such that—”

  “Oh, this is why you have come?” said Bingley.

  “I said I’d come on her behalf.”

  “Yes, now I see what you mean,” said Bingley. “Well, you might have saved yourself a trip, truly. There is nothing I need to hear on that subject. I have quite made up my mind.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth flung the door open to see that both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were outside of their house.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Bingley.

  Darcy looked her over and there was heat in his expression. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said, but the tone of his voice sent shivers through her.

  She pressed her lips together, trying to keep her composure, and let them both into the house.

  Bingley did not wait for an invitation, but went directly into the sitting room.

  “You look well,” said Mr. Darcy. He had not taken his eyes off of her.

  She looked up at him, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin. “As do you,” she murmured. She wanted to touch him. Lord, she wanted to touch him. Could it have only been last night that they had been entangled in her bed, nothing between them except the thin French letter?

  Bingley stalked back out. “Where is Jane?”

  Elizabeth did not think she had ever heard her sister’s first name come out of his lips. He looked out of sorts, however. Perhaps he was breaking down, unable to keep himself at his normal level of decorum.

  But before Elizabeth could answer, Jane came running out from her bedroom, her face still wet with tears. “Mr. Bingley?” she breathed. “You are… are here?”

  “Why, of course,” he said. “I would have come earlier, but I was pestered with a steady stream of visitors. First my sisters and then Mr. Darcy. I have been quite occupied and not the least bit pleased about it.”

  “Oh,” said Jane. “I see. Then you are not…? That is, you have not come in person to… to…”

  “How are you, my dearest?” Bingley went to her, gathering her into his arms. “I am so sorry you have been left here to deal with this disastrous news alone. I should have been by your side all along.”

  “You should have?” Jane smiled at him. “Truly? Then you are not going to jilt me?”

  “Jilt you?” said Bingley. “Never.”

  “But this changes things now. You will be ignored. Even your own sisters may refuse to associate with you,” said Jane.

  “We shall form our own society,” said Bingley, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You are the only one I care to be near, anyway.”

  Elizabeth was smiling too. She could see the look in her sister’s eyes, and the way that Bingley was staring back, and she took Mr. Darcy’s hand and pulled him out of the hallway and into the parlor so that Bingley and Jane might have a moment together alone. She was rather sure that Mr. Bingley was about to kiss her sister.

  “What is going on?” said Lydia when they entered the room.

  “It’s Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth. “He is not going to break the engagement.”

  “I knew he wouldn’t,” said Kitty, sighing happily.

  Lydia looked stunned. “Well, I… am surprised. Who would have thought it of Bingley?” Then she noticed Mr. Darcy. “Oh, hello.”

  Darcy inclined his head. “Miss Lydia. I hope you are well.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Lydia. “And you as well.”

  Mary got up to stare daggers at Mr. Darcy. “Well, it is a good thing that there is one man with honor in our house.”

  “Mary!” said Elizabeth. “How dare you?”

  “No, it is all understandable,” said Mr. Darcy. He cleared his throat. “I shall take my leave, since all is well, or at least better than it has been.”

 
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “I suppose that would be best. But perhaps we can now renew our plans for the night.”

  “Oh, certainly. That would be most agreeable,” said Mr. Darcy. He winked at her.

  She blushed. She seemed to feel it all over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Elizabeth let out a satisfied sigh. She felt like a preening cat, groomed and happy. She stretched her neck and flung her arms out on the bed.

  Mr. Darcy was still inside her. His forehead was buried next to hers in the pillow, and he was panting.

  “That felt… different,” Elizabeth murmured. “I don’t know. It was as though I could feel you better there at the end. I don’t know what I mean by that. It’s a strange thing to say.”

  “No, I agree.” He lifted his head to gaze down at her. “It was… somehow different. Better. More…” He kissed her.

  She opened her mouth to him and the kiss was deep and thorough and lovely.

  He sighed too, and then rolled away from her, lying on his back next to her. “I don’t know why I put up such a fight about this. It has all been—” He made a funny, half-strangled sound.

  “What?” she said, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

  Mr. Darcy pointed at himself, at his male organ, which was soft now, but still intriguing. She was unsure about touching it still, but she thought that she would have the courage to do it soon. She mused on that for a moment, but then forced herself back to the present. “I still don’t understand,” she said.

  “The French letter,” said Darcy, turning to look at her. “It’s not there.”

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth, now very worried. “Well, where is it?” She thrust a hand between her own thighs and found it. Except it was torn, useless. It had not done its job.

  Darcy snatched it from her, emitting a low moan. “Bloody hell.”

  “Mr. Darcy, the swearing,” said Elizabeth, sitting up. “Well… what does that mean?”

  “It means,” said Darcy, his voice harsh, “that I’ve quite likely gotten you with child, and that now you will have to bring it into the world and probably die in the attempt, and when I lose you, I shall kill myself, because I don’t want to live without you.”