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Chapter 21
The next morning Elizabeth arose determined to shrug off the disappointment that Fitzwilliam had not visited her chamber. True her mother had said it would most likely be a weekly occurrence, Elizabeth had assumed he might wish to spend some time with her away from the eyes of the footmen and maids...
Straightening and banishing any further rumination, she descended the main staircase towards the breakfast room when the sound of raised voices had her changing course toward the entrance hall. Crossing from the last step to the bannister overlooking the foyer on the first floor she was startled to see Mr Wickham and her husband, with only Giles the butler for company.
"You cannot be so cruel? Come now I did as you asked! I made myself scarce when you and your band of not so merry cousins came and accosted me in Meryton." Pleaded Wickham tugging at his necktie. His face appeared unshaved, his hair in disarray, and redcoat wrinkled as if it had been slept in.
Whereas her husband stood tall and immaculate as ever. His jacket perfectly tailored, his cravat brilliantly white and starched, his face and hair perfectly groomed. Mr Wickham when they first met had appeared much taller, but like most men her husband's intimidating height held a head taller.
"Wickham, I have said all there is to say on the matter. Please do not make this more difficult on yourself than it already is."
"Says the man with all this." He spat gesturing widely and stumbling a little. "Don't worry I shall give you a little longer to think on your decision!"
"Imagine my relief." Drawled her husband.
"Damn arrogant bastard! Do not make me desperate Darcy!" He said in a warning tone storming off knocking into Giles.
Wickham paused then to offer a terse apology for shouldering into the man and then continued out of the front door.
"Thank you, Giles." Her husband said his position and posture unchanged.
"Sir," said Giles with a respectful bow and walking away.
Only once his footsteps had faded from hearing did she see her husband's posture relax and he brought a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Releasing a heavy sigh, he straightened walking away in the opposite direction of Giles.
What on earth had that troubling scene been concerning? Elizabeth thought distractedly as she turned in to make her way to the breakfast room.
After taking one wrong turn she finally found the correct room, only to find Mr Darcy had beaten her there. He greeted her as she entered and the resumed his seat.
Helping herself to some porridge and berries, Elizabeth took her seat beside her husband and added a liberal drizzle of honey to her bowl. "Anything of import?" She asked with a nod to the paper he was reading.
Looking at her with a small smile and then at paper, he folded the newspaper and handed it to her.
"You are full of surprises husband! Most men of my acquaintance are quite territorial over the Times." She teased.
"Ah, but we are in the city. You will find I can become quite possessive of my morning paper when at home in Derbyshire."
Elizabeth chuckled as she opened the paper, her papa only ever let her look at his after he had memorised it and even then, it was not allowed to leave the safety of his study and always had pages missing - presumably because her father had seen them as unsuitable. It pleased her a great deal to see that her husband did not feel the need to check her reading.
"We have received an invitation to the opera this evening if you would like to go?" Interrupted Fitzwilliam.
"The opera?"
Nodding he said, "Lord Fenton, the gentleman we met in the park; he has invited us there this evening. Anthony and Cleopatra is being performed."
"That sounds wonderful! I have not seen an opera before... I have been to the theatre as treat whenever I have stayed with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, but we have never been to the Opera House." She chatted excitably.
"I shall be keen to see what you make of it. It is said you are either extremely fond of the opera, or you are the complete opposite and cannot abide it."
"Goodness not too much pressure then! And how do you find it?"
"When performed well... extremely moving." He smiled gently staring deep into her eyes as though enchanted by her.
"I shall have to refresh my memory of the story… do we have a copy here of Anthony and Cleopatra? But... are we sure it is correct for us to be out in public so soon after marrying?"
Oh dear now she was babbling!
"Unfortunately, due to the circumstances of our marriage it would be prudent to be seen attending the theatre and such to dispel any lingering whispers of a scandal..." he said offering an apologetic smile.
"Ah, yes. Well, I am no less happy to attend the opera!" she exclaimed happily.
"I am glad to hear it. I shall leave you to the rest of your tour and look forward to our evening at the opera. Oh, and we do have a copy of the play in our library." He said giving her hand a gently squeeze before excusing himself.
That evening Elizabeth marvelled at the comfort of the Darcy carriage as she, Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, Sir Percy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam rocked gently with the motion of the horses, and not once feeling cramped in their confines. She now understood what 'perfectly sprung' truly meant. Looking across at her husband she smiled in anticipation of a thrilling evening ahead of them. If you had asked her a year ago, she would never have thought that her life would be thus. Elizabeth could not deny that she was very fortunate indeed and felt a slight embarrassment at her misjudgement of Mr Darcy. The fact that he was guilty of the very same thing helped to assuage her in time for when the carriage door was opened, and the steps released.
Jumping down first, Fitzwilliam assisted her out instead of allowing a footmen the job. It was a cool dark evening and Elizabeth could still make out his gaze as it travelled up and down her body. She tried and failed to hide the creep of her blush creeping up her neck and was thankful for the poor lighting when he placed a lingering kiss upon her wrist. Turning back, he moved to offer the same assistance for Georgiana who moved to grasp Elizabeth's arm.
"I am hurt! You do not care to assist your dear cousin down the carriage steps." Teased Percy pausing at the top step.
"Percy, will you move before I get a crick in my back." Came the curt reply of Colonel Fitzwilliam from within.
"My, my, what a grouch! Where are your manners?"
"Now!" Growled the colonel.
Laughing he jumped down the steps and turned to offer his hand to his brother, who ignored it entirely.
Looking around Elizabeth's gaze found the pleasing form and happy smile of Lord Felton.
"What fortuitous timing!" said Lord Fenton as he approached them with Viscount James and Francesca Fitzwilliam. They exchanged greetings and moved inside of the opera house to Lord Fenton's box.
Taking their seats, they all fell into conversation, but Elizabeth struggled to pay attention. She had never been in such a beautiful performance space. The atrium was coloured a deep red with gold wall sconces and gilding in excess, but it was perfectly suitable for its purpose. The ceiling was even more beautiful. A beautiful collection of angelic cherubs we're playing harps and sitting upon pillows of clouds, as birds fluttered next to them, and flowers blossomed.
"Darcy, when are you going to relinquish your box to me?" Lord Fenton demanded.
"When you make me an offer I cannot refuse!" Countered her husband.
"Is it not weird to come here and not sit in your own box, cousin?" asked Francesca.
Chuckling Darcy replied," I have never given it much thought."
"It is a little peculiar. Which one is yours?" Francesca asked looking around curiously.
"His is the only one more advantageously positioned than mine. Just there." Lord Fenton supplied pointing to the one next to them.
"But it is farther from the stage than this one. How is that better?" asked Georgiana looking to Lord Fenton.
Smiling he said, "It is because it is further back. Which creates less obtrusion from the edges of the stage. From here we can see when the actors and singers leave and enter the main stage. It is not unpleasant, but it breaks the illusion. Darcy's Box is the only one that is so perfectly situated on this side. Though I can see you have allowed others to pay for its use this evening."
Georgiana looked up at him, smiling broadly at the gentleman, her cheeks rosy as she hung onto his every word. Looking to her husband Elizabeth wondered if he was aware of his sister's admiration for his friend. At that moment he was not paying it any attention and was engrossed in a conversation with the Viscount.
Looking back, she saw that Lord Fenton had been supplanted by talk of ribbons, sleeve lengths, and the best colours to dye hat feathers with the two younger girls. Poor man!
Soon enough the lights were extinguished, and the performance began, instantly Elizabeth was gripped by the most vivid and breath-taking interpretation that set her skin to prickle like gooseflesh. Nothing else existed but the stage and she found she needed to remember to breath on the big crescendos. When it came time for the interval, the applause startled Elizabeth out of her engrossment.
Lord Fenton and Darcy went to collect refreshments and left them to their conversations, which soon turned to Georgiana and Francesca's upcoming debut's, and then to the many suitors they will certainly have.
"How shall you both cope being responsible for breaking so many hearts across the country!" exclaimed Percy.
"I doubt I shall get any gentleman brave enough to court me with my brother glowering as he does over my shoulder." Georgiana grumbled with a faraway look.
"He cannot be so bad," laughed Elizabeth.
"Who cannot be so bad?" Asked Fitzwilliam returning with a footman carrying their refreshments.
"We were discussing the men that will be courting Georgiana and - " began Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"A man is courting you?" Fitzwilliam cut in raising his brows. "Do you know who it is?" he asked leaning into Percy and Richard. They both merely shrugged.
"Elizabeth? Husband and wife should not keep secrets from one another." He said turning his gaze on her.
"I know no secrets, Sir." She chuckled sympathetically.
"I bet it's that fop, Lord Weston." said Sir Percy.
"The Marquess?" asked Francesca.
"Ah, so you know him?" Percy countered.
"I know of him. There is a substantial difference brother."
"Is he here tonight?" asked Darcy leaning to peer out of the box.
"Who?" asked James joining the conversation.
"Weston? Blame Percy." Laughed Richard.
"Percy." Warned James with stern look.
"Just look for the idiot looking like he's wearing a peacock." Said Richard.
"No, no, that's not Weston. That's Milton!" Percy said with a widening of his eyes. "Good Lord! He is wearing a peacock in his hair!"
"Well then, who the Raspberry is Weston?" James Demanded.
Georgiana's brow wrinkled. "Raspberry?"
"Millicent will not allow me to curse in case it becomes the babes first word. It's quite magnificent how you can substitute the real curse for any word, if you use the correct intonation." Supplied Viscount James.
"What nonsense!" cried Richard.
"Oh, paw off Richard! Ratafia, he's not wrong!" Said Percy comically.
"Wait, there he is. That is Lord Weston." Richard pointed across the atrium.
"He cheats at cards you know." Came Lord Fenton entering the box. "He is here with Lady Weston and her ever vacant sister Miss Tabitha Coltram."
"Vacant?" Elizabeth's eyebrows drew together.
"The girl can't hold two thoughts in her head at once." Colonel Fitzwilliam supplied.
"Can you?" countered Francesca before the lights were dimmed signaling the next act.
At the second interval Elizabeth excused herself in search of the retirement room and was pleased that Fitzwilliam escorted her and waited a little down the hall. When she exited, she could not see him where she had parted from him. Mayhap, he was waiting a little further away… she wondered a little further but could not find him. How peculiar? Turning to retrace her steps to the retirement room she stopped short. There in a small alcove in the other direction was Mr Wickham in a heated conversation with her husband. At least this time he looked better kept.
Turning at her approach both men paused smoothing out their features from hostile to pleasant in an instant.
"We are done here." Dismissed Fitzwilliam. "Elizabeth, I was just about to return to you."
"Mrs Darcy," Came Mr Wickham striding over to her and bowing over one of her hands. "What a pleasure it is to see you so well. I fear you might be upset at finding us, but fear not, all is well. Let us not ruin this night, it has been a wonderful performance."
"It is a happy coincidence to see you here, Mr Wickham. Tell me, how is all in Hertfordshire?" she asked conversationally.
"Hertfordshire and Meryton is as idyllic as you left it, I assure you. I am taking advantage of some leave before the militia are off to Brighton." Mr Wickham pulled at his cravat and itched at his neck during their conversation and Elizabeth thought him under the weather when she notices the beads of perspiration running down the sides of his face and a grey tinge to his skin.
"If you will excuse us, we must go back to our party." Said her husband in a commanding voice and Elizabeth's eyes widened at his abruptness.
Mr Wickham gave her a respectful bow and turned to bestow her husband with a peculiar look. It held a deep meaning she could not quite decipher. There was desperation, pleading and something else altogether…
The rest of the performance could not hold Elizabeth's attention. She found all her senses were trained to the confounding man beside her. Why had he not invited Mr Wickham to join them? Why was he so cold towards his old childhood friend? If Mr Wickham was in need of funds, they had plenty! What would be the harm in giving him a helping hand?
Fitzwilliam spent the rest of the opera in full attendance of her and ever solicitously explaining the parts in Latin she could not translate, his presence getting dizzyingly close to her at times. There was a moment she knew she would cherish, as foolish as that may be, when he captured her hand in his and did not release it until the end of the play. It had a startling effect on her, and Elizabeth liked how openly it felt like he was claiming her, but the sobering aspect was that it was most certainly for show to dispel those stubborn rumours.
In their carriage on the way home it was just Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, Sir Percy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Thankfully Richard and Percy hopped out in search of entertainment at their club just a few streets from the Royal Opera House. Elizabeth fought hard to hold her tongue, sensing her Fitzwilliam's mood, but before she had realized she had spoken her thoughts aloud, she heard herself asking.
"Are you a good man Fitzwilliam?"
"That is quite the question... I should like to think that I am. At least I can take comfort that I always try to act with good and honourable intentions. Does that answer your question?" He puzzled.
"What of Mr Wickham?" She enquirer boldly.
Breathing in through his nose he looked to her. "He was my father's steward."
"I meant Mr Wickham Junior, as I am sure you are aware. You could not think I would not have questions after seeing you both quarrelling both at the house and in public."
He looked to her in astonishment.
"He was after your help or money, was he not? Would it be because you caused irreparable harm to Mr Wickham by refusing to fulfil your father's bequest of a church living. Do you deny it?"
Silence.
"I know you better than when I first met Mr Wickham. and I believe you are a good man. Therefore, in my heart, I know you must have your reasons... but your silences are planting seeds of doubt which begs me to ask... Do you feel no remorse at the effect of such a decision on your childhood friend? To have reduced him to poverty?"
He remained quiet a moment before looking out of the window at the sleepy streets of London. He was quiet for so long she thought he would ignore her and not answer her.
"My father left one thousand pounds and the living of taking orders for the church for Wickham in his Will." Came his voice breaking through the quiet of their carriage. "And yes, I did deny him the living, until a time when I deemed, he would be fit to take up such an honourable ordainment."
"But why?" she gasped.
He raised his hand placatingly and she forced herself to remain quite.
"Mr Wickham had become a little reckless around the time of my fathers death. We had many disagreements between us and I truly did not do it to harm Him. I did not want him to disgrace himself or the generosity of my father. Wickham said that he would not be controlled in such a manner and asked for the monetary value of the living instead. He went on to say a great many upsetting things directed at my father, myself and even took aim at my dear mother. In my anger I granted him this and told him that should he take the money, he would be cutting ties with my family completely. But that was before I was aware… before I knew why he was so desperate for a large inheritance."
"I feel bad that he was brought into a world and given everything at his disposal without any of the work or responsibility. So desperate to prove himself and how could he not be? Always trying to be the last man standing. Women of the ton can be cruel, but it is a difficult thing as a man to have your worthiness and masculinity called into question by your peers. My father had thought he was leaving a generous living, but to someone who was used to living so largely, it must've felt like a considerable blow. Wickham then tried to exact his revenge by using - well it is all such a messy business... though, now I understand some of what he is dealing with. I have seen other men of my acquaintance, good men, strong and powerful succumb to such an addiction. It possesses the soul, consumes the individual and spits out the worst in them until they burn all bridges and then leaves them for death. I would not wish such an end for George. He was a sweet boy and a good friend to me."
"I do not understand."
Looking at her, his expression grave. "Opium. He is an addict, Elizabeth." Raking his hands through his hair he let out a weary sigh. "I still care for him. I have tried many things to help rid himself of the habit. Giving him an allowance and a roof over his head, moving him out into the country... but none hold any value other than leverage for his next fix. He needs funds – more than I will give him in one go. If I do... it is a death sentence for him."
"That is terrible. What sad and sorry tale."
"Do not pity him blindly. He is not so sad and sorry not to pose a threat."
"What do you mean by a threat?"
"The sort of threat that any man might impose upon a woman. He is not the person I knew in my youth. He is a skilled manipulator, and though I believe he would never intentionally hurt someone, when he is desperate for more, he would give his right arm for the smallest sliver."
They travelled the rest of the journey in silence. Elizabeth's mind preoccupied as she had never heard of something so terrifying.
Upon entering the house, they were greeted by Giles.
"How was the opera this evening?" he asked kindly assisting them from their outer garments.
"It was wonderful. Mr Darcy may regret introducing me to the world of Opera. I most definitely will be happy to go often!" she teased.
Fitzwilliam smiled gently and moved to offer her his arm when Giles cleared his throat.
"Forgive me, but you have a visitor Mr Darcy."
Fitzwilliam frowned glancing to the grandfather clock near the wall. "At this hour?"
"Mr Bingley came by a short while ago and is awaiting you in the billiards room."
"Very well, I will go to him now. Thank you, Giles."
"Very good, Sir."
Turning back to Elizabeth he took her hands in his and kissed her cheek softly.
"I will stop by your rooms before I retire if Bingley does not keep me too late." He said in a clear dismissal, the sting of it choking her.
Nodding a little awkwardly, she bid him goodnight and walked away without looking back to him. Why was Mr Bingley here? If there was trouble in Hertfordshire would Fitzwilliam tell her? These thoughts continued to plague her deep into the night as sat patiently in her room watching for sound or movement on the other side of the adjoining door. The book she had attempted to read was now discarded beside her, the tea in the pot stewed and cold. Looking to the clock on her mantle the hour stood and half past two.
"This is silly!" throwing her coverlet back she placed her feet onto the plush carpet and moved to listen at the door leading to her husband's room. Silence greeted her.
Pulling her braid over her shoulder she played with the ribbon that secured it as she worried at her lower lip. Mr Bingley must have left by now… If not, this was her home and if she wanted to seek her husband, then that is what she'll do! Putting on her slippers and her robe she checked her, Elizabeth left her chambers before she could change her mind and left in what she hoped was the correct direction towards the billiards room.
Turning down one deserted corridor after the next, Elizabeth suddenly felt a little uneasy. She had not seen the house without the staff lining the walls or going about their duties and she would hate to wake them if she found herself unable to find her bearings. The sound of a faint clattering of billiard balls colliding reached her ears dispelling her foolish uncertainties. Laughing a little at herself she moved more confidently towards the sounds coming from the end of the hallway.
Pausing outside the door she could hear no voices within. Pressing her hand to move the door wider, she stood on the threshold watching her husband bending over the table, focusing on his next aim. His movements confident and purposeful, as they always were in everything he did. He's shed his jacked and his shirtsleeves had been rolled up to reveal prominent veins on his hands and muscular forearms. Elizabeth found she liked the appearance of dishevelment on him.
He pulled back his arm and struck the white ball, causing a whir of activity as he netted more than one ball. Then he straightened his dark eyes alighting on her, his features relaxing to show his happiness at seeing her.
"Hello."
"Hello, Mrs Darcy. I would have thought you would be fast asleep." He said resting his cue and coming around the table towards.
"Please do not stop on my account." He just shrugged gently. "All is well with Mr Bingley?" she asked.
"Yes, he needed to speak with me on a family matter. Is this what kept you awake?"
"I confess, I worried whether something from home might be the cause for his appearance."
Elizabeth saw something flicker in his gaze before he looked away and taking another step closer. He was now standing within inches of her. The masculine scent surrounding her as well as his powerful form.
"You would tell me if there were anything of concern back home?" Elizabeth dared.
"I would. As it is, I am certain Miss Bennet would keep you abreast of any changes in Hertfordshire."
"She would. But husband, if I am to be honest, your words are not subduing my worry." She said craning her neck to look up at him as he moved another step closer.
She felt her unease at her Fitzwilliam's evasiveness and yet as she looked up at the hard set to his jaw and the small frown to his lips, she found an overwhelming desire to kiss him start to kindle in her breast. When he did nothing but watch her for several long minutes, she began to worry at her bottom lip, twisting the end of braid between her fingers. His eyes immediately darkened and dropped to her mouth. Elizabeth felt her pulse quicken and her breathing grow heavier.
"No? Then what might I do to convince you, Elizabeth?" he whispered dipping his head closer as if he might kiss her.
Elizabeth had been planning a clever riposte when he pressed his nose gently to her temple before moving to breathe in the scent of her hair.
"Will you take your hair down for me?" he asked his voice silken and gravelly at the same time.
She simply stared at him, eyes wide. Before she could move Elizabeth felt his fingers brush against hers and move to loosen the ribbon. Then gently threading his fingers through her hair until it was freed completely tumbling over her shoulders.
"Beautiful," he murmured softly, his breath warm against her cheek. Elizabeth watched him, a blush staining her cheeks.
Gently, tenderly his lips brushed against her jaw and then his hands moved to tighten in her hair, tilting her head back. Fitzwilliam's gaze locked with hers as he brushed his lips over hers. Elizabeth's eyes fluttered closed as he repeated the action and soon, he was kissing her, urging her lips apart so that he could taste and devour her. She could feel his fingers tightening a fraction, the feeling delicious, as her hunger for him grew.
"Elizabeth." He breathed pulling back and searching her face intently.
"Yes?" she whispered back in question.
He kissed her again. Pulling her body flush against his as he kissed her again and again. Driving his tongue deeper into her mouth. Not dissimilar from how his body had become one with hers on their wedding night. Of their own accord her hands moved to his shoulders, as she pressed herself into him, feeling the firm press of his member against her stomach.
She tasted like lust and luxury and sin laced with a tang of the lemon she has in her tea. Everything he wanted more of. Her full breasts crushed to his chest, as she kissed him back. The sweetest sound of surrender fled her throat as his hands roamed down her back to grasp and squeeze her pert bottom lifting and pressing her impossibly closer.
His hands moved impatiently to sink his fingers into her hair, angling her face to deepen the kiss. There was nothing to stop him from lifting her onto the billiard table, raising her skirts, and burying himself in her welcoming wetness. Nothing except the sudden entrance of one of the night footmen which finally pierced the haze of need surrounding him.
Elizabeth froze her humiliation roaring in her ears- She was a lady. This act was only supposed to be tolerated by her for the sake of procreation. It was wanton and sinful to behave the way she did. They were not even in the privacy of their bedchambers and now they had been caught by a footman. A footman who would undoubtedly spread this about below stairs and before she knew it the ton would gossip about it over breakfast and taking tea in their parlours!
"S-Sir?" quaked the footman, the fabric of his necktie fluttering with stammer of his throat working.
Her husband bit out a curse and dragged a hand through his hair to distract himself. "What is it?" Snapped Fitzwilliam.
"F-Forgive me. I thought the room unoccupied and thought to douse the fire."
"Well, as you can see it is occupied." Came the cutting response.
The footman fled. On a groan, Fitzwilliam finally stepped away. Turning to collect himself, he waited until the sounds of the man's footfalls could no longer be heard.
"Are you well?" He asked gruffly.
"I... yes. Goodnight."
"Elizabeth."
"Yes," She tried, the swelling tide of shame threatening to choke her as she turned to face him. When he failed to speak, Elizabeth summoned a bright smile. "I shall see you in the morning. Goodnight, husband."
Watching her skirts disappear Darcy felt his frustration intensify. He had worked so hard to keep his desires under tight control and in one fell swoop he had pushed her too far soon. If only they had not been interrupted! It was not that he did not desire her—quite the contrary—and found that she grew increasingly appealing with each day that passed. But she was an enigma to him, and he was in no hurry to make love to her and find her barely tolerating his passions. He had decided it could not hurt to take some time and get to know her outside the bedroom. It had been working, or at least he had thought so, but when she appeared in the billiard room, he gave into his baser needs.
Turning he picked up his cue and hit a ball at random with a resounding whack, sending balls flying in all directions.