Page 31 of Midnight at Pemberley

Mr. Denny concurred, “I would expect nothing less from a man of Mr. Darcy’s lineage.”

“Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley found me when I was most distraught. They both protected me. Mr. Darcy was the first to reach me, so he became my comfort. I admit I clung to him unreasonably. I acted foolishly. Yet, he permitted me time to recuperate.”

Jane took Elizabeth’s hand in hers. “Lizzy, you were so overwrought; it was natural, and Mr. Darcy is a responsible young man.”

Elizabeth noted how Wickham’s eyes searched for the truth in their expressions. With distaste for her task, Elizabeth spoke again, providing Wickham the opinion he sought. “I am thankful for both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy; and although my gratitude to both is of the highest order, I openly admit I would prefer not to be indebted to Mr. Darcy.”

“Elizabeth!” Jane protested.

“You did not see him while you were recuperating at Netherfield, Jane,” Elizabeth declared. Having watched Wickham take the bait, she continued, “The man leaves Hertfordshire soon, and I will celebrate his departure. He has repeatedly shown himself as superior, and I shall be happy to see him go.”

“You know how I feel about Mr. Darcy,” Wickham interjected. “He does not belong in civilized company.”

Jane thought to object, but Elizabeth cut off her sister’s words by ordering tea for the group. When it arrived, she changed the subject to their aunt’s social the previous evening. Darcy warned her of “protesting too much.”

“Do not harp on my faults,” he had warned.

The visit lasted less than a half hour, but it felt like a lifetime. When the gentlemen stood to leave, relief arrived. “The colonel asked me to deliver the paperwork for the unit to London. I absent myself with regret, Miss Elizabeth,” said Wickham.

“Will you not be at Mr. Bingley’s ball?” Jane inquired with interest, thinking Elizabeth might find Mr. Wickham appealing.

“I cannot say, Miss Bennet. The colonel knows I am well familiar with London. He has several tasks for me to complete.”

Elizabeth could not make herself say the words she knew she should offer him. All she could manage was, “Your absence will be felt, Mr. Wickham.” It was the truth, and such was better than a lie. Wickham’s absence meant she might spend a few minutes with Darcy before he departed Hertfordshire and her forever.

As he promised, Darcy refused to call on Elizabeth, even when Bingley encouraged him to do otherwise. “I will not see Miss Elizabeth. It would appear as if I courted the woman.” He made certain the garlands arrived in the afternoon. Darcy knew Elizabeth would eagerly open the packages, and she would know disappointment when she found no necklace. He promised to send it, but when the time came, he withdrew. He feared another might see it. He could not put Elizabeth in such a position.

Instead, he delivered it. Darcy sent the same trusted footman to the nearest township to find a competent jeweler and mercantile. He removed the crucifix he wore and gave it to the man with orders for the jeweler to duplicate it, creating a new one for Darcy. He would risk being without one for a few hours to protect Elizabeth. Then he ordered an array of loose diamonds and emeralds set into the metal. The footman paid the merchant well to complete the work in a few precious hours. In addition, Darcy’s orders included a new fur-lined hooded cloak.

In the middle of the night, he paid her a visit. This time, he did not wake Elizabeth. He stood in the center of the room, staring down at her. When she rolled over and snuggled into a pillow, he smiled with remembrance of her clinging to him. “You are beautiful, Vixen,” he murmured. “Now, permit me to practice my skills.” He set the package holding the cloak and the necklace on the end of her bed, and then Darcy turned slowly in place three times, extending his arms level to his shoulders.

“Forget … remember … forget … remember … forget … remember,” he chanted as an aura of blue light spread like fingers caressing every corner. “Forget the old.” The light continued to surge through the walls, filling each of the rooms in succession. “Remember the new.” The light turned in on itself and rolled towards him, having touched all in the sleeping Bennet household. “Forget the old. Remember the new,” he repeated once more, turning counterclockwise to pull in his power. As if the swooshing crack of a whip, the energy balled into the pit of his stomach and disappeared. He sank to his knees in exhaustion.

He remained slumped over for several minutes. At length, he stood to study Elizabeth before he departed. She had captured his eye from the beginning. Despite her tenacious spirit, her innocence moved him. Oh, to be the man who won her heart! Under other circumstances, she would be his destiny: his wife. “Wear the gifts in pleasure, Vixen,” he murmured, and then he left her to the end of a dream.

Returning to Netherfield, he sat in his room for hours, staring into the fire, finishing off more than one glass of brandy. In his time with Elizabeth, he had insinuated himself into her life and had tempted her modesty. They had slept in the same bed. They had shared intimate kisses. They had shamelessly flirted with each other. And he had used his powers to protect her. In truth, his powers surprised even him. Wickham used such powers against Georgiana, making his sister know nothing but what the cad desired. Until recently, Darcy considered his powers part of the internal evil he fought. The truth was he used the same type of powers as did Wickham.

Elizabeth woke to find the brown-paper wrapped package at the end of her bed. He was here! In her sleep, she felt Darcy in the room, watching over her. Fascinated, she took the gift upon her lap. She let her fingers caress the string, imagining he touched it. She brought her fingertips to her lips and sensed his kiss lightly on her mouth.

Then, very slowly, savoring each moment, she untied the knot and peeled the string from the package. Unfolding the paper, the sight of the cloak brought a gasp to her lips. It was a deep forest green. She had never seen anything so fine. She stood on the mattress, bouncing in happiness as she swept it from the wrapping and draped it around her. For warmth, white rabbit fur trimmed the hood and cuffs. Elizabeth ran her fingers over it, enjoying the softness. Still wrapped in the cloak’s warmth, she dropped to her knees on the bed. She fished into the bottom of the layers of paper and found a jeweler’s box, along with a note. She unwrapped the small box slowly. She knew what it contained. The jeweler’s box squeaked as she lifted the lid. She sighed heavily when she saw the jeweled crucifix, covered in perfectly matched diamonds and emeralds.

She undid the chain and hooked it around her neck. The cool metal burned her skin. She kissed the back of it and then let it nestle between the rise of her breasts. The jewels disguised the base iron of the design, but Elizabeth knew Darcy had sent it as protection from Wickham. The night Darcy and she discussed the curse, he told her the legend behind the baobhan síth—how they killed a group of men, but one man escaped because he hid between the horses—the iron horseshoes protected him from their vampiric attack. Elizabeth felt safer with the necklace serving as an amulet to protect her. At length, she unfolded the note. Her fingertips followed along as if the letters rose up and touched her.

Vixen,

You would tempt a sane man with your beauty, and considering what I am doing is far from sane, I admit to being enthralled by the mere thought of you. If you knew what great joy I find in being with you, you would blush. I used a special spell to protect you from censure upon accepting these gifts. No one will remember what you owned previously. You may wear the cloak and the necklace without fear. Your family will think the items were in your possession for years. The riding habit will be seen in the same manner.

How I wish I could view your face at this moment. I would enjoy looking upon your luminous features. How I wish I could kiss your lips and give myself up to the world we create when we are together!

The memory of you will stay with me forever.

D

Elizabeth folded the note. Without thinking, she brought it to her face and inhaled. It smelled of him—of sandalwood and maleness. Clutching the necklace in the palm of her hand, she swept the cloak from around her and draped it over her body as she slipped further into the bed linens to sleep again and to dream of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Chapter Eight

“LIZZY, I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE BALL THIS EVENING. JUST THREE SHORT hours, sister! It will be glorious to dance at Netherfield. Do you not think so?” Lydia twirled around the room, holding her dress close.