Page 40 of Her Affections and Wishes

He was not to linger. He bowed to Elizabeth and expressed his congratulations that she was well, and went into the passage with Lady Metcalfe and Julia. Before they reached the stairs, Lady Metcalfe said, “I have forgotten something. I will meet you downstairs.”

She abruptly turned and went the other way, leaving him with Julia. Apparently, single ladies ought not to be left alone with him unless they were her daughter. Whether Julia was in on the scheme, he could not say, but she took advantage of her moment.

“You are welcome to barge into my room with that dark-eyed look,” she said in a sultry voice.

“I went to see Miss Bennet because she is a family friend and to see if I was needed. For all I knew, I was to go instantly to her family and bring them.”

She stopped him with a hand to his chest, and he promptly took half a step back. Julia smiled and said, “I only wanted to ask, what do you think of my hair?” She touched one of the loose flaxen curls by her face, and then let go to drag her fingertips across the edge of her gown, drawing attention to the slope of her breasts. “Does the style suit you?”

“I prefer dark locks.”

“Like Miss Bennet’s?” she retorted. “Why are you fixed on her? She hardly has a good feature on her face. She looked quite ill even before she took a fall.”

“I disagree,” he said. He would have left it at that but she continued to stare, so he had to say something. “I think Miss Bennet is a pretty woman.”

“She is neither accomplished nor rich.”

Neither was Julia, unless you counted scheming as a feminine accomplishment. “She is a family friend, and I enjoy her company,” he said, struggling to keep his forbearance.

“But she is not here,” she said, her voice returning to its dulcet tones. “Nor could she offer you what I can.”

“I am trying to repress the arrogance that seeks to undervalue others, but you are making that exceedingly difficult.”

“And I am trying to convince you that an evening with me will drive away all thought of Miss Bennet, Miss de Bourgh, or anyone else.”

Julia was a beautiful woman, a Venus in miniature, but all her beauty could not overcome her cold-heartedness. Even if he was not in love with another woman, Julia could never tempt him. She wanted him because he was present and had a fortune, nothing more. Her wish to have him had nothing to do with affection.

“I believe I told you,” he said, with weakening patience, “that I am not interested in whatever you could offer for an evening.”

“It will be so enjoyable you will want to secure such a lasting convenience for yourself and make it a permanent arrangement. I am open to possibilities.”

Darcy scoffed. “A man who takes a virgin under the pretence of marriage is a fraud and a knave. And you are aiming for a proposal, are you not?” He saw the truth in her face. “Let me be clear, Miss Metcalfe. I will not propose to you. Even if you were found naked in my bed, I still would not marry you. I would endure a complete scandal and absolute loss of my family’s reputation before I married you.”

He went down the stairs to join the others, hearing her muttered sound of outrage and then her footsteps followed behind him. She was not the first to hint to him at seeing what an evening’s companionship might bring, but Julia was by far the most persistent. What could drive a woman to abandon her self-respect and risk repeated rejection, and to forsake every value of chastity for a man who unmistakably did not want her?

He found the party gathered in the hall, even Lady Metcalfe, who must have come down another stair. All remnants of the broken vase from the night before had been swept away. Elizabeth was almost crushed, and today had fallen from a great height. At the prospect of another meeting amongst strangers, with tedious music and conversation, whilst avoiding heartless Julia’s flirtations, Darcy felt weary. Elizabeth, although not seriously injured, had been hurt, and here he was about to go to an evening party.

All he wanted to do was hold his future wife’s hand.

“Mrs Tessier?” Darcy interrupted her mid-sentence. “I am afraid I have lost my appetite.” He could not help giving a sharp stare to Julia. “I will be dull company, so I must beg off. I promise tomorrow evening I will be at your disposal.”

He graciously listened to her excessive concern and her ultimate acceptance of his apology until Henry finally led her away, saying the carriages were waiting. As the others filed from the hall, Julia said to him, “The evening will prove so insipid, so unbelievably humdrum if you stay away.”

“Too much honey becomes gall,” he muttered before going back up the stairs.

He changed out of his evening clothes and asked for a tray of whatever could be had to be sent to his room. The expectation of a quiet evening on his own, with a book and a glass of port, would typically soothe him, especially after the whirl of activity this week. But whilst he tried to occupy himself throughout the evening, his mind kept returning to Elizabeth.

He ought not to risk seeing her again. It was selfish to need her comfort because he was worried over her injury. But what reasonable man would leave his betrothed all alone after such a thing? It bethought him there were two doors to her apartment, and that the other door led into a dressing closet she was not using. She had no maid with her, no sister, and Woodcote was large enough to have enough bed chambers for more guests without the need to put one in a dressing room.

That door might not be locked.

Darcy went down and then ascended the back stairs and, as he expected, found the dressing room door unlocked and unlit. The door leading to Elizabeth’s chamber was locked, but he knocked. As he questioned the wisdom of forcing her to get up if she was injured, or asleep, he considered leaving when she opened the door.

“Darcy,” she cried, surprised, but putting her arms around him. Her embrace startled him, but he grinned. Coming to see her was the right choice.

“You can give me my name when we are alone, since you are that pleased to see me,” he said, hugging her back gently, fearing she was sore from her fall.

She took his hand and led him in. He observed the candles were still burning on the table. Although she had taken her hair down, she was not going to sleep. “I will be glad to call you Fitzwilliam, and I will do my best not to do so in front of Julia Metcalfe.”