“She chucked her slippers at him?”
“And one hit its mark. Quite soundly, I must say.” Turning to slide the book into its place, he sighed. “Look, Miss Elizabeth. I can only say how sorry I am that you had to hear that. That you would know the depth of my shame… I speak to you openly, knowing you would do nothing to harm my sisters or I. Knowing you deserve the truth.”
“You do not have to,” she said softly. “As much as I would like to know all about you, it can wait, if you wish. I can wait.”
“I thank you, but it needs to be said.” Leaning heavily against the wall of books, he continued, “My father and grandfather acted much as the rumours say; each actively supported America. For my grandfather, this meant serving as a spy against this nation. For my father, with the war ended, his actions were far less extreme, merely serving that land by being a good steward of what he had. His love of my mother and of their time together here helped ease his leanings. Indeed, their happy days in London and Pemberley, which is the Darcy estate, left a kinder view of this nation; enough to send me to several schools here.” Meeting her eyes, his face softened. “I… as much as I did love America, this nation has been my home for more years than not; after my parents died, I brought my sisters here to enjoy this place and to be near our family. No one believes, or rather, few believe I might live here and be loyal to this nation, but I am. I see both sides of this war, like Lord Brayburn, if you can believe it–me, who has been at war with the Ton after being all but shunned in London, having the same views as an earl. Absurd. It must be.”
“Must it?” Elizabeth asked as she gazed up at him. “A title does not make a man; not where it matters. It is character. The same is true for those without. You are more than the Ton know. Do not let a few lords and ladies who are as immovable in their opinions as they are wrong, damage how you see yourself.”
“What of the legacy of my father and his father before him?” Mr. Darcy frowned, his head lowered. “My own actions I can shape as integrity and fairness demand; I cannot alter the past, nor the actions of those who have gone before me.”
Hands clenched at her sides before her heart took leave of her head, she laid a hand upon his arm, his face meeting hers as she answered, “Wrong or right, they have lived their lives. It is up to you to live yours. To determine the sort of man you wish to be. I cannot lie to you, there are those whose opinions of you and your family may never waver for good or ill… but I cannot believe that all will be so unchanging.” Huffing, Elizabeth allowed a sad chuckle, “This war cannot go on forever, and when it ends, no matter who wins or loses, in time people may forget. Some did before. And, as with Lord Brayburn, not all see this as we are right and they are wrong, with no room in between for folly on both sides. No one is perfect… a bit of folly is part and parcel for us all.”
“Surely not for you?” Mr. Darcy teased, his hand coming to rest on hers where she had allowed it to linger unrepentantly.
“A small bit of folly makes life interesting,” she smiled, her face warming as she held his gaze. “Without it, I could prove rather dull.”
“Never dull,” he argued, his tone deep as his lips curled. “Not to me. Though a bit of folly, as you say, can be compelling. That fact, given my own follies, is truly welcome.”
“And what follies are those?” Elizabeth laughed.
“Of falling for a woman too far above me,” he answered stoically, his eyes boring into hers.
Did he mean… her? She was no fool, she had noticed his interest; but love? So soon? For that must be what he meant. That he loved her. And she? Oh, what a question. Pathetic really, for the answer had been plain to see to her and her sisters. She loved him already. Not as deep or unending as she might expect as years came and went… but far deeper than she ought to.
Squeezing his arm tighter, she grinned up at him, preparing to bare all her feelings;well, most of them. Worries about deserting her sisters should he, in time, ask her to marry him… sadness at the breaking up of the tight-knit family she had known with them… concern over what Father’s opinion would be… Those concerns could wait.
“Mr. Darcy,” she began, eyes bright as she held his gaze, “I…”
“My, the library is cozy, is it not?” Mr. Thomson asked as he entered the room; Elizabeth’s hand still held between Mr. Darcy’s and his coat sleeve.
“Have you found that book you insist I must read?” Miss Edmund asked from somewhere down the hall. “I cannot endure this dullness a moment longer.”
“No, but I believe I have found something of great interest,” he called out as Mr. Darcy released Elizabeth’s hand. “An assignation between the daughter of the landed gentry and a traitorous snake!”
“Traitor? You lay such unfounded claims rather swiftly do you not?” Elizabeth fumed, her shoulders pulled back and head high as she turned to face him. “As to our being in the library, with the door open, well, if you call that an assignation, then you have a rather vivid imagination. There has been no wrong. He is a gentleman, I am a gentleman’s daughter, so far we are equal. If you find either of our presence offensive, you may feel free to leave. I am certain our hostess would not mind.”
“Offensive? No, I could never find your presence offensive, Miss Elizabeth,” he answered, leaning toward her as he glanced over her form before returning to her eyes.
Swallowing as she resisted the urge to back away, Elizabeth met the man’s slimy gaze.She would not be cowed.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy interjected as he moved between her and Mr. Thomson. “Would you care to find your sisters and determine if they might wish to join us on a walk? The freshness of the outdoors would be a welcome change; the air in here is rather foul.”
“Indeed,” she said as Miss Edmund at last entered the room, the woman’s expression wide with confusion as she observed them.
Taking Mr. Darcy’s proffered arm, Elizabeth sought to keep her head held high as they passed Mr. Thomson, the man’s leer causing a great pit in her stomach.That was one man she would never wish to be alone with.
“Are you alright?” Mr. Darcy whispered as they made their way toward the stairs. “I can always engage him in fisticuffs if you like? Believe me, such an activity would bring me a great deal of pleasure.”
A relieved chuckle escaping, she shook her head. “No. Not now in any case; though, I fear my opinion might change before this house party is over.”
“Given his character, I fear half the household wish to see him humbled. Staff included I should not wonder.” Frowning as they took the stairs, he added, “Though I doubt they wish it as greatly as I.”
“Or I, if truth be told,” she admitted. “That man is akin to a villain in those gothic novels my sister Lydia is always reading–hateful, vain, and overconfident. Though I admit it is unlikely he has committedall ofthe foul deeds of those wretched characters.”
“Though some he surely has,” Mr. Darcy said as they came to stand on the landing. “Moral crimes if no others.”
Eyes drifting in the direction of the library below, she frowned. “Unfortunately, you may be correct. One can only hope some hidden kindness resides in him; Jane would be disappointed otherwise, for she dearly loves to find goodness in all. Well, I suppose I ought to find my sisters and see if they are inclined for that walk you spoke of.”
