A Virtue of Marriage Page 5

  “Lizzie!” Charlotte picked up a pillow from her friend's bed and slammed it down in annoyance.

  “What? You insinuated . . .”

  “I certainly did not!”

  The two girls collapsed onto the bed and like times where they had lounged in one another's parlors or bedrooms as children reading, their heads touched, but no other part. Both looking up at the ceiling, the weight of their situations pressed all around them.

  “I am not so very unhappy . . .”

  “Don't. You owe me no explanation. And while I can do nothing about that weasel at the moment, I shall at least find a way to help you with the chickens to catch the thief.”

  “The masterful egg thief,” Charlotte corrected.

  “Yes, we shall catch the entire gang of egg thieves.”

  Chapter Ten

  Elizabeth Bennet strolled confidently down the manicured garden rows on the south side of the Rosings estate. The morning sun lifted her spirits and she giggled, wondering how long it would take Mr. Darcy to find her in their impromptu game of hide-go-seek. Feeling perfectly private and alone, Elizabeth untied her bonnet and skipped merrily down the pristine lawn to the end of the hedge.

  A tall man stepped out from the shadow cast by the low angle of the new sun. Elizabeth rushed forward to crash into his torso. But Mr. Darcy held his arms out to stop her, making Elizabeth frown.

  "Not here, not yet. The southern side of the gardens is easily spotted from the main house. But come and I shall show you my favorite glen from when I was a boy and hiding from my aunt and parents." Darcy reached out to clasp her hand and began walking her further and further away from the estate house.

  "Do you mean to say, sir, you were not always so fastidious in your responsibilities?"

  Mr. Darcy looked over his shoulder with an expression echoing the mischievous boy he had once been. "Miss Bennet, you have no inkling of how mischievous the Fitzwilliam boys can be."

  “But you are a Darcy. I am confident I should have no fears.” Her voice wavered as the surroundings became more dense forest and rustic. In the back of her mind, years of being raised to play the perfect young lady with manners above reproach screamed at the danger she was placing herself in.

  Reaching a copse of trees where the grass seemed perfectly encircled Darcy walked her towards a large tree and pressed himself against her as he claimed her lips. Elizabeth dropped her bonnet and tangled her hands in the man's luscious locks, eager to claim more and more of him, yet uncertain as to how. Swooning under his kiss, she heard and felt him give a guttural growl, a primal sound that increased the tension in her lower belly.

  “Mr. Darcy . . .” she said breathlessly as his kisses traveled her jawline, her neck, and to the small shallow of her collarbone.

  “Elizabeth, you drive me mad.” He managed to say between his attentions to her delicate ivory skin.

  “Please, I need . . .” Elizabeth's mind struggled to voice what she desired. All of those weeks being separated, all of those months of pining for Mr. Darcy's touch and company. Now she had the man, in as private a location as they could manage, and she had no idea what was possible.

  Fitzwilliam's hand slid from her lower back around to the front, resting for a moment against her abdomen. Gingerly, his hand slid higher and higher up her form. When his large hand finally cupped her breast, Elizabeth gasped and he immediately dropped his hand and walked away a few steps.

  “Forgive me. I am a beast . . .”

  “No, Fitzwilliam.” She took a few steadying breaths then stepped towards him. As she touched her hand to his shoulder, he rebuffed her efforts by shaking his upper body away. The coldness made her shiver.

  “I cannot, that is, I was wanton and I do not blame you for wishing to abandon me.”

  “Abandon you?” He turned around and searched her face with his own crumpled in fear. “I needed a moment to calm myself.” Darcy reached forward to clasp her hand and kissed the bare skin. Elizabeth had not bothered to don gloves when the weather was so warm. “I despise this playacting we must employ, but in speaking with Richard last night, we cannot execute our plan until next week when the Archbishop of Canterbury arrives on his tour of the country.”

  “The Arch . . . Archbishop?” Elizabeth knees weakened a moment at mention of the man. How did Fitzwilliam expect to convince the highest man in the Church of England to marry his cousins?

  “He is my godfather. Richard spoke to his office in London and as his family has aligned with mine since ancient times, he is in favor of our scheme. Especially since Richard produced letters from Anne expressing her intentions.”

  “But will he truly agree to marry them? I worry he will side with Lady Catherine and all will be lost.”

  Darcy laughed and offered his arm to his Elizabeth. “His Grace eloped with his own wife decades ago. My father may or may not have assisted his old schoolmate from Cambridge.”

  Elizabeth shook her head, highly amused by the improper behavior of the higher classes. If her father were here he would be most thoroughly diverted by such tales, she thought wistfully, before a wave of melancholy washed over her heart.

  “Fitzwilliam, about my behavior before, I must insist you allow my apologies.”

  “Elizabeth Bennet, my darling and my life, from this moment forward, please set aside the strictures of society. Any affections or liberties you allow are a balm to my injured heart.”

  “Truly?” She stopped their progress and turned to look at him. Sadly they were now within the view of the main house, and Darcy could not kiss his intended.

  He nodded and gulped as his mouth positively salivated over the woman before him. It was his deepest desire to carry her off to his carriage and not stop until they reached Gretna Green. “One week. It is unbearable to be sure, but then we shall return to Hertfordshire and seek your father's blessing.”

  Elizabeth leaned slightly into his arm as they continued to walk, but when reaching the split between the main path towards Rosings and the small footbridge to the parsonage, Elizabeth released her hold on him.

  “Shall I not walk you to the parsonage?”

  “No.” Elizabeth frowned as her answer vexed even her, but she turned towards Fitzwilliam to explain. “My cousin is suspicious and I fear he shall run to tell Lady Catherine both what is true and fabricated in his mind. Perhaps we ought to limit our walks together in the future as well.” Elizabeth said, tasting a bitter bile rise up in her mouth. Her heart ached when she was separated from Fitzwilliam, but they were so close to their aims, so close to freeing him from his family's clutches.

  Tears pricking her eyes, she spun away from Fitzwilliam. “We mustn't do anything to jeopardize your scheme. I could not bear to lose you now, and I do not trust myself alone in your company.”

  The confession of her desire for him seized Darcy's lungs. The overwhelming need to capture this beguiling woman again flooded his senses, but as he pinched his eyes closed, a voice of reason stalled his impulsivity. Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and misread his expression.

  “I have spoken out of turn, offended you.”

  “No, no, would you please stop thinking the worst? Your honesty pains me, but not in the way you believe, madam. It pains me that I am not free in my abilities to provide for and protect you. And most of all, to love you.”

  The last words between the couple hung in the air as the only comfort they could give before finally walking away from the path. Elizabeth carefully retied her bonnet and used a furtive look over her shoulder to glance at the handsome form her Mr. Darcy cut as he walked away. Relishing such a blissful yet bittersweet morning amble, she momentarily forgot the nightmare of her accommodations as she entered the parsonage.

  Chapter Eleven

  Finding Charlotte in the kitchen with the cook, Elizabeth helped herself to an apple from the bowl on the table.

  “Lizzie. You should hurry upstairs, Mr. Collins will return in a moment from his meeting with Mr. Hobbs.”

  Elizabe
th shrugged, and continued to chew her apple, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Charlotte.

  “He is always unhappy when he returns from his meeting with Mr. Hobbs. They are touring the glebe lands today. And he left without breaking his fast, so cook and I are preparing a glorious meal.” Charlotte's face glowed with the achievement of her dearest dream, to run a household all her own with everything properly in order.

  “If you ask me, Mr. Collins is always unhappy regardless of the situation,” Elizabeth said, noticing the cook paused in her stirring and her shoulders shook in silent laughter.

  “Please. He is not all bad, no one is. We are newly married and there is an adjustment period.”

  Elizabeth finished her apple and opened the back door to toss the waste on the composting pile in the corner of the garden.

  “I will repair my appearance if it shall make you happy, but not for him.”

  Elizabeth left the kitchens just as a dark parson's hat walked past the front windows. Cringing, she tried to quicken her steps to reach the stairs, but only managed to the landing before the front door opened.

  Placing his hat on the hook in the hall, Collins immediately called out to his cousin.

  “You look afright this morning, Cousin Elizabeth, and are those grass stains on your hem and boots?”

  “Yes, I was outside just now to discard an apple core, if you must know. I am returning above stairs to restore my appearance for the morning meal.” Elizabeth curtseyed and again tried to leave his presence.

  “Fine. Fine. I will have you understand while you are under my roof, there is to be none of that walking on a whim you are so fond of. This is not your father's land, and even there, I questioned the wisdom of such freedoms given to young ladies of weaker mind. No, I wish to make it perfectly clear that while you are present, you shall comport yourself with the utmost decency and decorum as Lady Catherine has come to expect of my humble family. Am I understood?”

  “Perfectly, sir.” Elizabeth pursed her lips, defying his very edict with her delightful memories of this morning's ramble with her Mr. Darcy. Oh, if Collins knew the liberties she had allowed, he would likely throw her out of the house this instant!

  “Good. Now, see about your hair as well, Cousin. I will not have any of those sloppy London fashions in this household. Lady Catherine might visit at any moment should we be so lucky to receive her benevolence.”

  Elizabeth said nothing and walked up the stairs. Once in her room, she cradled her stomach and breathed in deeply. So many thoughts rushed through her mind as she wondered what on earth had possessed her to behave so abominably this morning? Yes, Fitzwilliam said he enjoyed her attentions, but her uncle's warning about extending her reputation to bounds of propriety rang in her ears.

  Spying her haphazard appearance in the looking glass, she resolved to check her desires and behave properly no matter what circumstances befell her. Only one week and she and Fitzwilliam could run away to Hertfordshire and she would finally be one step closer to reclaiming her old life.

  Chapter Twelve

  Netherfield Park bustled with activity as the master and his new mistress were finally home as far as the staff was concerned. Jane Bingley steadied her breath, gazing out over the grand entryway, remembering the home alight with glorious candlelight the evening of her engagement ball. She nodded at a number of maids and footmen she had long since known growing up in the village together. Elegantly descending the stairs, she had an appointment with Mrs. Cunningham in the dining room to inspect the silver.

  A few new faces made her uneasy, but for the most part she felt confident in her role as Mistress of Netherfield Park. The only hitch in her peaceful existence was educating Miss Caroline Bingley as to the changes in the household she wished to affect. One week home in Hertfordshire and she sorely regretted offering Charles' unmarried sister a visit to the estate. It made no sense that the young woman was heart-set on returning to the country just at the height of the Season in London. But Jane was unprepared to parry her sister-in-law's manipulations when they rested for a day at the Hurst town home on their trek home from Bath.

  After inspecting the silver service, Jane set the perfectly polished spoon down upon the table and nodded to Mrs. Cunningham. "Please tell the maids I am most pleased with their efforts. Their work has not gone unnoticed in supporting my first dinner party as Mr. Bingley's wife."

  "Yes ma'am. The girls will be happy to hear they pleased you."

  "Has the meat arrived from Mr. Alberts?"

  "Aye ma'am, Cook has the supplies downstairs as we speak."

  Jane stared out the dining room window at the expansive grounds beyond bursting with spring bounty. It was the first morning since their return that her husband had dressed and sought a morning ride. He promised Jane to seek a mount for her use so that she might join him in enjoying her home countryside. One of the few Bennet girls who dearly loved to ride, her family's horses had often been needed in the fields. Jane turned her attentions back to the housekeeper.

  "Shall we go to the kitchens then?" Jane held up her hand as the housekeeper began to politely protest. "Fear not, Mrs. Cunningham, this is not to find fault. I merely wish to see that all is well and there is no detail I cannot see to." Jane Bingley offered her housekeeper a shy smile, a rare occurrence in all of Mrs. Cunningham's years. She had heard the Bennet girls were raised in a household where the servants were considered family, but in all her years of serving London's elite, she had never seen such manners.

  "As you wish, Madam." Mrs. Cunningham motioned for the footman to open the door to admit Mrs. Bingley down towards the servant areas in the kitchens below.

  To most it would appear as only perfect cracks in the wall, but then again, Jane was learning Netherfield Park had numerous improvements her family home of Longbourn could neither afford nor institute with it’s Tudor-styled layout. Not a day went by that Charles did not speak of the dreams he held in building their own home. But Jane was not so sure all of their leased estate's features would make her list of necessary amenities. She did not like secret doors and hidden halls.

  With Mrs. Bingley on her way to the kitchen, Mrs. Cunningham instructed the footman to carefully restore the silver to its proper storage when Miss Bingley strolled into the dining room. Shoulders back, nose in the air, Caroline did not so much as deign to acknowledge the servants of the room before hastily snatching a fork off the table and holding it up to the light of the window. With an exaggerated huff, she finally looked to the housekeeper.

  "Do not tell me this service is what you intend to show Mrs. Bingley as passing muster for her first dinner party! Why this fork is positively filthy." Caroline released the fork from her hand so it tumbled to the table.

  In months past, Mrs. Cunningham feared angering the sister of Mr. Bingley. The entire staff walked on eggshells to avoid being fired on the spot, many times without notice. Netherfield's staffing situation had become so alarming that it impaired Mrs. Cunningham's ability to attract proper candidates when posts were emptied.

  “Mrs. Bingley herself just approved the service, Miss Bingley. Perhaps if you would like to make your opinions known to her, I should be happy to instruct the maids to polish once more if my mistress requests." Mrs. Cunningham smiled sweetly at Caroline.

  "You're telling me a falsehood. No mistress of the house would approve such shoddy work. I'm off to find my sister-in-law at this moment to disprove your lies."

  The housekeeper nodded towards the footman who again opened the secret door to the kitchens. Caroline cocked her head to one side and folded her arms in front of her chest, clearly confused at the movement.

  "Mrs. Bingley went to see to the kitchens not a moment ago. I'm certain you might catch her if you'd like." Mrs. Cunningham extended her arm with an open hand to invite Miss Bingley down to the kitchens, a place she knew the young woman only went when absolutely forced to go.

  "That's quite all right, I shall wait for her in the sitting room. Or perhaps I shall go insp
ect the suites above stairs. With this weather, one can never be sure if guests will be remaining with our family overnight." Caroline said through clenched teeth and stormed out of the dining room. She did not add she would bet that Mrs. Bennet would find some trifling reason to extend their stay, and that she'd risk money on that eventuality if she only had anyone with which to make such a wager. As Caroline Bingley stormed the stairs, she felt the closest emotion to missing her own sister, Louisa, as she could.

  The former mistress of Netherfield Park had left the dining room for not a moment before the poor young footman began to snicker. Mrs. Cunningham gave him a sharp look, then found herself highly amused as well. The new Mrs. Bingley might be sweet and serene as could be, but in a test of wills, Cunningham's loyalties lay firmly in belief the Bennet girl could soundly trounce the Bingley one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The knocker at Number Twelve Grosvenor Square stood restored post haste of the Wickhams' first outing to the theater. Georgiana Wickham admitted the most exalted ladies of the Ton, thinking herself the most proper social hostess in London. It was only on the third of such days that she suspected she was quickly becoming London's biggest laugh behind ornate fans in every ballroom.

  “Mrs. Wickham, I do beg your pardon.” Miss Sarah Milbanke, the niece of the formidable Lady Cowper, intently gazed at the young woman in front of her.

  Georgiana looked up from staring at the tiny teaspoon stirring her tea. The silver Darcy crest on the end had captured her imagination. She had wondered at the level of the craftsman who fashioned such a true likeness to the three cinquefoils clearly distinguished in the field of crosses.

  “Forgive me, you were speaking of my husband?”