“Indeed he is!” He brushed his hands angrily through his hair, pivoting on his heels to resume pacing. “I do not trust this disappearance or this past year of quiescence. Elizabeth, he may have been ignorant of my feelings toward you before, but no longer. Furthermore, he knows I have a son.”
He stopped abruptly, face thunderous, but eyes inundated with dread. “I will not be a fool who wears blinders and gullibly believes all is well while the fox is loose in the henhouse! He is a blackguard and nothing that has been reported to me this past year has altered my opinion of him. So, yes, I do wish to know what he is up to, not only for Lydia’s sake!”
“And if your hands accidentally find themselves around his throat, then so be it? Or if harm befalls you in the search or at his hands, what then? Will it have been worth it?”
They both paused, respirations heavy and audible as they stared at each other from opposite sides of Darcy’s large desk.
Lizzy broke the silent tableau first, her voice soft. “I still maintain that vengeance is not a trait near your heart, my dearest. Caution, vigilance, protectiveness, wisdom, and temperance, among a legion of other fine attributes, are the earmark of the man I married. I concur that we should be wary, Wickham not a man to be taken lightly. But I refuse to allow his existence to impinge upon our life and disrupt our happiness. Think how that would please him!”
She smiled, lips lifted in the teasing manner he found utterly delightful.
“And Lydia?” He asked quietly.
Lizzy shook her head, slowly stepping around the desk. “It grieves me, but she is not our primary concern. Besides, all your reports have shown that for all his faults, Wickham seems oddly to care for my sister. And they must be together, or I am sure she would be running back to Longbourn.” She was before him now, palms reaching to encompass his face. “I think we need to make a new vow, beloved. You will relinquish your misplaced guilt, but we will not wholly forget the past affairs with Wickham. Heedful, yes, but not aggressively seeking problems where none exist.”
“Is this more of the superior wisdom of my wife?”
Lizzy laughed. “If you wish to proclaim it so, then yes.”
They were long since returned to Pemberley and enmeshed in the delights of a fine summer before a new communication from Lydia was conveyed to the Bennets. The Wickhams had settled in Exeter of all places, supposedly running an inn. The details were vague, but her tone was cheery and positive. Letters from Lydia to Elizabeth were nonexistent and eventually Lizzy gave up all attempts to communicate directly with her sister. What news she received was via her parents, and that was sporadic as Lydia wrote rarely. Children were never mentioned and this was taken as a merciful development as Darcy shuddered to imagine Wickham as a father. “Perhaps he cannot sire children,” Darcy said once to Lizzy. “It would explain how he managed not to compromise any of his numerous bed partners over the years.”
As time passed, they found less and less reasons to mention the Wickham name. Darcy harkened to the advice of his wife and let the matter go. Gradually, his guilt faded, but he never surrendered his distrust or wariness.
Chapter Fifteen
The Heartbreak of Miss Bennet
The two mounted men galloped to the small rise, reining in their heaving horses as they surveyed the rolling Hertfordshire fields below. The darker of the two gazed without really registering the vista, caught up with internal musings. The other young man turned to his silent companion with a sunny smile.
“Once again I have bested you! Really, Falke, you must try harder.” The jest was lost, however, as Falke remained silent. “Very well, then. Tell me what the tyrannical old codger said.”
“You know that my father is neither tyrannical nor old, but I thank you for the attempt to lighten my mood.” Falke sighed heavily, only then turning to his friend. “He was unmoved by the declarations of my affection. Offered all the rationales that I anticipated, and although I tried to contradict, I really could not do so with great vigor.”
“Her connection with the Darcys did not sway his opinion?”
“No. He said that Mr. Darcy, for all his wealth and station, is not a peer of the realm so the strict rules do not apply as forcefully. ‘The son of Viscount who will someday inherit the title,’ he stated flatly, ‘must rise above the petty whims of desire. Honor and duty must prevail.’ I hoped that the bewitching Mrs. Darcy, accepted and venerated by all, would soften his attitude. Alas, no.”
“I am sorry, my friend. Would that I could help, but you know I am in the same predicament. Luckily, I am not of a romantic nature.”
“I never particularly thought myself so either, but a sparkling pair of eyes and dainty dimples changed all that.”
“Not to mention a lush figure.”
“Don’t be vulgar, Nash. Miss Bennet’s figure, although enticing, was not the draw and you know it!”
“Of course not. It was her multitudinous accomplishments, keen intelligence, and stellar connections.”
Falke glared. “Are you trying to make me angry?”
“Only reminding you of what you already know. You said yourself that you could not argue his reasons. Miss Bennet is a delight, we all agree on that Falke, but for marriage? It was never going to happen, and I think you have always known that.”
“I prayed her charms would overrule the deficits. None of those matters bother me, and I would be the one married to her, so why should it disturb my father?”
“Again, you already know the answer to your question. And do not be so sure her ‘deficits’ would not come to annoy. Can you seriously imagine marriage to a woman of little intelligence and fewer accomplishments? A country girl with no knowledge of what would be required as Lady Gresham? I think you would be bored and disappointed within a year.”
“Do you think me so shallow, Nash?”
“Not shallow, but the fact that you are not ranting and raging against your father, or mutinously scurrying off to Gretna Green, means you are unsure of your own heart. I know you well, my friend. You are a stubborn man who does not normally buckle easily.”
Falke resumed his gaze of the landscape. In all honesty he knew that the words of both his father and Thomas Nash were right. His affection for Kitty Bennet, although real, was evidently not so intense as to defy his entire family. He envied Darcy who had been master of his own life and able to act on his wishes.
He sighed sadly, eyes closing in true regret, voice mumbled when he spoke. “How shall I ever face her disappointment?”
Nash was surprised. “Have you extended any promises? Surely you were not so foolish!”
“No, no. But she knows of my regard and is not an idiot. She even allowed…” He glanced sheepishly at the other man, swallowing audibly before continuing, “We kissed, in the garden, several times. Nothing else happened!” He added vehemently at the sudden leer on Nash’s face. “Miss Bennet is a lady! Halt your insidious thoughts!”
And as he spoke the protective phrases, the memory of how vigorously Miss Bennet had instigated the kisses flashed through his mind and was guiltily squelched. His initial shock at her coquettishness and brazen advance had been rapidly replaced by pleasure in her kisses. Never would he betray her trust in him or harm her reputation, no matter how inappropriate her actions may be in the eyes of some. Falke had only looked upon her zeal as a testament to her attraction to him, a thought that was more than a little satisfying to his ego!