Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (51 page)

“Certainly, madam.”  Parker bowed and looking to Darcy saw his resigned nod.  “I will call for it right away.” 

Elizabeth peeled away the coat and did not see Darcy wince as she hung it over a chair.  Smiling, she returned and began untying his cravat.  “Perhaps we can share your bath.” 

“We have not done that in a very long time.”  He whispered.

“We have not done a great many things in a very long time.  I mean to correct that.  It is my intention to know both my husband, and his estate, very, very, thoroughly.”  Elizabeth held his eyes, and standing on her toes kissed him while her busy hands went to work on his waistcoat and pushed it from his shoulders.  It fell with a thump to the floor.  “I was so afraid, Will.”  She whispered against his mouth.

“I am sorry . . .” Darcy kissed her gently while her hands pulled his shirt from his breeches then passed over the fall, fondling him.  He sighed and opened his eyes to see desire in hers.  “Dearest . . .”

Elizabeth slid her hands beneath his shirt to stroke his chest, then lifting the fabric; she kissed his warm skin and tenderly suckled his nipples.  Darcy held her shoulders and rested his head against her hair; it was a curious fight between pain, pleasure, and anticipation.  The shirt was lifted off.  Elizabeth smiled up at him. 

Darcy caressed his hand through her hair.  “So lovely.” 

“I am seducing you, sir.”  She took his hand and kissed his knuckles, then began to kiss his ring and stopped.  “Will?”

“Yes, dear?”   

“Did you fall?”

“Fall?”

“Your hands are bruised.”  She took them both and examined them.  “They are swollen.”  Looking up at him, her brow creased.  “Did you fall from Bruin and not catch yourself properly?” 

“No.”  He shook his head as she stepped away and looked him over.  Her hands went to her mouth when she saw the ugly bruise darkening on his side. 

“Will!”  She touched it and he winced.  “Oh Will!  I knew it!  I knew it!”  Angry tears filled her eyes and she walked around him, rubbing her hand over the purple bruise on his back where Wickham had punched his kidneys.  “Oh, dear heaven.” 

“You should see Wickham.”  He tried to coax a smile, but she was not having any of it.  “I am fine, Lizzy, I am.”

“Are you?”  She glared and stood before him with her arms crossed.  “Take a full breath.” 

“I would rather not.”

“Wonderful.”  Unhappily she passed her palm over his ribs.  “Are they broken?”

“I thought that I heard a crack . . .” Darcy met the flash in her eyes.  “But it does not hurt like it should.”

“I cannot imagine a response to that statement.”  She muttered, examining him closely.  “This is odd.”

“What is?”  Darcy tried to see where she touched him, none too gently. 

“There is a perfect circle here of unbruised skin.” 

“He was not wearing anything on his hands.  How big is it?”  Darcy moved stiffly away to a mirror and looked.  “What is that?”  Turning, he found her bent, going through the waistcoat pockets.  “Lizzy?” 

She stood and in her hand was his pocket watch.  The case was dented and inside, the crystal was cracked.  “This is what broke.” 

“My watch?”  Elizabeth held it up to the mark on his skin, it fit perfectly.  They looked at each other.  “It saved me!  I remember he hit me there and after that his punch was only glancing, if that . . .”

“That is twice this timepiece has saved you from that man’s actions.”  Elizabeth’s hand closed around it and she broke into tears. 

“Oh, Lizzy,” Darcy immediately wrapped his arms around her.   “Sweetheart, please, do not cry.  Everything is well; I am fine, just very sore.  I confronted him with everything, everything that I have wanted to say to him for so long.  I let it out of me.  I believe with all of my heart that if I had not this opportunity, I never would have been free to move on.”  Elizabeth held him as tightly as she could and he reciprocated, ignoring the ache in his side.  “I am grateful that I saw him.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, love.” 

“Is he wounded?”

“Not mortally.”  Darcy kissed her temple and she looked up at him. 

“Why not?”  Elizabeth muttered.

“Elizabeth Darcy!” 

“If that man dares ever touch you again . . .” 

“Good Lord.”  A growing smile spread across his face.  “You are serious!  You would . . . what would you do?”

“I would make sure that his manhood was damaged irreparably!  And I would not be striking with a pillow!” 

Darcy started laughing and crushed her tightly to his chest.  “Oh, you
are
a Darcy!  My dear wife goes for the jugular as every man of Darcy blood did!”

“The jugular is in the throat . . .” She said as she embraced him and listened anxiously to his heart.

“Wickham’s is in his breeches.”  Darcy rested his hands on her shoulders and smiled down at her while his thumbs caressed her face.  “And his purse, and his . . . idiotic, avaricious, lazy, childish heart.  But in the end . . . he did come here to see that Georgiana was well.  I pray that was all he intended.”

“I believe that a month of prayers from the Master and Mistress of Longbourn would not be enough to change him.”

Chuckling, Darcy nodded.  “That may very well be true.”  Taking a breath, he saw her worried eyes as he winced.  “Laughing is intensely painful, Lizzy, but I am grateful to laugh with you now.”

“I want to strangle you, but . . . I am grateful, too.” 

“Do you know what was truly wonderful?”

“I cannot imagine.”  She reached up to caress his hair. 

“Not once did my chest hurt when I confronted him.  I felt . . . completely in control and confident.  It was
my
punishment to deliver, and
my
mercy to grant.”  He shook his head.  “Finally . . . I felt . . . I felt that nobody was controlling our destiny anymore.  It is in our hands.”

“It is in your hands, Will.  I am just the fortunate woman to be your wife.” 

“You are not a possession, love.”  Darcy’s gaze roamed over her as his hands did the same.  “But I would love to possess you right now.” 

“Will . . .” 

The sound of water splashing into the copper tub reached them.  Darcy glanced to the open door and back to her.  “Will you bathe with me?”

“I will wash you.”  She smiled at his slowly shaking head.  “When we reach Pemberley . . .”

“No, no, no.”

“You are injured, and I want to you to be healed.  When we reach home, I intend to . . . possess you.” 

“I will wholeheartedly submit!  But . . . maybe a little bit, now?”   Darcy touched his forehead to hers. “He is gone, as gone as he can ever be without meeting his end.  I am very sorry to have frightened you.”

“I never worried for your actions; I just had no idea what his would be.  He was cornered, anything might have happened.”

“Do you wish for me to tell you what happened?”  His hand returned to caressing her throat.  “Or shall we let it be?”

“Let it be.” 

“Very well.” 

“What shall we tell Georgiana?” 

“The truth.  I spoke to Wickham, and . . . he agreed to leave us alone.”

“After a fashion.”

“Well, she does not need to hear the details, does she?”  Darcy smiled.  “I love you.” 

“I love you.”  Elizabeth slipped out of his grip.  “Now go bathe.  You sir, reek.”   Darcy did not move.  “YES, I will come and wash you!”  Smiling triumphantly, he slowly made his way to the bath.  Elizabeth looked down at the broken watch she still had clutched in her hand.  “Fool.” 

“YOU LET HIM GO!”  Richard paced the room rapidly.  “How
could
you?”

“You did.  Twice.”  Darcy leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers.  Richard stopped and glared at him.  “I am not the least impressed with your stare.”

Richard blinked and then raised his hand.  “At least you pummelled him.” 

“Not like I wanted to.  Frankly Richard, the threat of you coming after him was enough to frighten him into behaving, I think.”

“I made him soil his breeches before and yet he came here!  He does not fear me.” 

“He fears Uncle.”  Darcy said softly.

Richard gripped the back of a chair.  “What do you mean?”   

“I do not know, something was there, something different from his reaction to me . . .” Darcy sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  “It is over, please may we drop it?  If you trip over him one day, then by all means take out your anger, but for me, I am finished.  Georgiana lives, it appears that our plan will at last work . . . and my wife has made it abundantly clear that she wants to go home.  I am in absolute agreement.  Let it be.” 

“Surrender.”  Richard said bitterly.  “To a weasel puffed with his self-importance.”

“That sounds like Napoleon.”  Darcy smiled.

“Wickham has the hairstyle if not the stature.”

“That is all?”  Samuel stood up from the chair he had taken.  “That is the end of it?  What about Georgiana’s honour?  Is that not worth his life?” 

“I do not want blood on your hands any more than on mine.  I will not kill and be hung for George Wickham.  I have too much to anticipate for my future.”  Darcy pointed at his cousin.  “As do you.”

“You resemble your father with this hot-headed talk.”  Richard regarded him.

“Is that so wrong?” 

“Well, take a look at how unhappy he has been for so long and maybe rethink your attitude.  Or have a talk with the man himself?”  They watched Samuel spin and leave the room.  “What has got into him?  You know, he acts as if Georgiana is more than a ruined cousin.  Do you think that he has feelings for her now?” 

Darcy rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “I think that witnessing her giving birth was a very frightening experience for him and he is in awe of her.  Perhaps she is not such a little girl to him anymore.” 

“WHAT IS HAPPENING?”  Georgiana woke from her nap to the sound of men’s voices raised in anger filtering through the floor.

“I do not know, Miss.”  Jennifer opened the door and looked.  Parker was passing in a hurry and she stopped him. 

Georgiana sat up.  “What is it?”

“Your brother had a little injury when he was out, but Parker assures me that it was nothing threatening.  He is assuming that the arguing has something to do with it.”

“An injury!  What happened?”  She cried and looked at the door when she heard Samuel coming up the stairs.  “Samuel!”

“Georgiana.”  He smiled and came in.  “You look very well today!”

“I do?”  She stared and then shook her head.  “What happened to Fitzwilliam?”

“He ran across a . . . person on the estate and threw him off.”  He shrugged.  “Nothing to worry over.”

“A poacher?”

“I could not say.”

“Was it Mr. Wickham?”  She asked quietly.  “Did he hurt Fitzwilliam?”

Samuel’s mouth opened and closed, and then he sat down beside her on the bed and took her hands.  “Yes, it was he.  William was hurt, but I know that Wickham was as well.  They . . . William spoke with him and asked that he leave and never . . . never bother you or the family again.  Wickham agreed.” Georgiana nodded and said nothing.  “I pray that you are not upset with your brother?”

“No.”  She whispered. 

“I pray that you are not . . .” He shook his head and held his tongue. 

“I do not love him, Samuel.  But he is Hope’s father.”  She looked to where the baby had been sleeping and started.  “Where is Hope?” 

“Georgiana . . .”

“Where is she?”  Georgiana turned to him.  “Did someone take her?” 

“Well, yes.”  Samuel smiled gently.  “Yes, the wet nurse, Debbie, I think her name is, arrived a few hours ago.  Hope needed to be fed . . .”  He squeezed her hand when she stared.  “She will be sleeping with Mother now, just as was planned.  I imagine that is why you slept so long today.  Nobody had to bother you.” 

“Oh.”  Georgiana looked lost. 

“Are you well?” 

“I . . . I do not know.”  Tears began to track down her cheeks and Samuel opened his arms to hold her.  “This is what we all planned for, is it not?” 

“Yes.”  He rubbed her back and closed his eyes.  “You are going to go to London and become the wonderful woman your parents dreamed you would be.”

“My mother never knew me.”

“I know.”  He tried to think of something to say.  “But you will know Hope.” 

“I wish that you were still working in London, then I would not be so alone.”  She whispered and rested her head on his shoulder.

“You will be so busy with Mrs. Annesley that you will not have a moment to think of your overworked cousin with ink-stained hands.”  He pulled back and smiled.  “And William and Elizabeth will be there before you know it.” 

“In London?”  Elizabeth entered with a bouquet of wildflowers.  “Oh yes, we will be along.  I think that we will spend Christmas there.”

“Not Pemberley?”

“Would you prefer to come home for Christmas?  It was rather fun decorating.”

“I hardly helped you.  I was horrible.”  Georgiana watched her set down the flowers.  “I would like to make that up to you.”

“Well, we will discuss Christmas when it is not the height of summer.”  Elizabeth plumped up the arrangement. 

“Those are lovely.”

“Mr. Ferguson gathered them for you.”

“Ferguson.”  Samuel stiffened. 

“He is a good man.  He is downstairs with Fitzwilliam now.”  She smiled at Samuel.  “He asks you to join them.”

“Does he?”  Standing up, he leaned down to kiss Georgiana’s cheek.  “I will be back to visit again later.  Take your rest.”

“Thank you for the hugs.”  She smiled shyly.

“I am glad to give them.”  He smiled and seeing Elizabeth’s tilted head, quickly turned and left. 

“This house if chock full of fools today.”  She murmured. 

“How is Fitzwilliam?  Did George beat him badly?”

“Ah, so you heard; no doubt from your angry cousin.”  Elizabeth sat down.  “Your brother reinjured his ribs slightly.  I insisted that the physician see him, so your uncle went to Castle Douglas to fetch him here.  He tapped and prodded and proclaimed Fitzwilliam sound and was on his way.”

“And George?”

“Mr. Ferguson was given the assignment from your brother to locate him on the estate and escort him to the inn where he had left his belongings, and saw him boarded upon the first post carriage to Gretna Green.”  Georgiana’s cheeks coloured and Elizabeth nodded.  “Yes, we cannot seem to avoid that town.  Where he goes from there is his business, and hopefully he will be grateful for your brother’s generosity and will leave us to ours.”