Beth was mortified to learn that she had been wrong, so very wrong, about his constant staring. His look was the same one she had seen in one of her dreams, as a wet Will Darcy emerged from the river, his shirt plastered to his skin, his hand outreached for her… No!! Stop it! Stop thinking of him!!
Her frustration grew as her overactive imagination betrayed her again. She needed a distraction. Beth looked about the room, searching for something to read, but there was nothing. The place was as impersonal as a museum. Besides her few personal items on the dressing table, the only other thing in the place that took away from the stark perfection of the expensive décor was the blue dress, carefully draped on a chair.
Beth sat in bed, contemplating the dress. It was the prettiest thing she had ever worn, and Darcy had ruined it for her. As much as she would have liked to believe otherwise, she knew his claim of choosing it for her was not an idle boast. Darcy would not dare lie, knowing how friendly Beth was with Anne, who would know the truth. She could never think of the dress or the way she looked in it without recalling his soft words, and that would never do. And the remark he made suggesting that Anne dress her in that color— it was as if he already owned her and could dress her as he liked.
Beth stood and put on a dressing gown over her cotton nightdress. Without a clock, she had no idea of the time, but the silence of the house told her that everyone must be abed. She could chance going down to the library for a book. Reading always helped her sleep.
In a matter of minutes, Beth was proven correct; the house was as still as a tomb. She made her way down the stairs without incident, pausing only when she saw light streaming from the library. Courage almost failing her, she nearly turned back in defeat before her need overcame her caution, and she forced herself to pause at the threshold, listening for noises within. Hearing nothing, she crept inside.
A candle burned on the mantle, her view of the fireplace blocked by a sofa before it. Soundlessly, Beth moved between the shelves of books at the other end of the room. She had put down her candle and picked up a random volume to peruse, when she was startled by a sound of a hiccup.
All senses on full alert, Beth quickly replaced the book and scanned the room. Nothing. Just as she told herself that she had been hearing things, a low sound nearly made her shriek.
Moaning? Heavens! Someone’s in here—on the sofa! I have to get out of here!
Beth removed the fist she had jammed into her mouth and took two steps towards the door before pausing, trying to decide if she needed her candle. It was her undoing, for the library door flew open, and Anne entered with a determined stride, carrying something in her hands.
“Here is a mug of hot coffee, Cousin,” she said, her eyes moving between the cup and the sofa. “Perhaps after you sober up a little, you can explain what you did to upset Beth so much.”
“Upset Beth?” came an unsteady, yet familiar deep voice. “Whaddabout me?”
Darcy! Beth’s mind screamed.
“What about you?” Anne scolded him as she held out the mug. Slowly, the back of Darcy’s head emerged from the couch as he took the coffee.
“In case you didn’t notice, you eavesdroppin’ li’l busybody, I’m the one rejected ’round here, not her.”
“Drink up,” she demanded. “I refuse to reason with an intoxicated man…” Anne’s voice trailed off as she realized they weren’t alone in the room. Her eyes flared as Beth began to creep out, one finger on her lips.
Darcy stood abruptly. “I ain’t intoxicated—I’m drunk!” To Beth’s horror, he turned his face enough to catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. He swung his arm up, pointing in her direction, and bellowed, “An’ she’s the reason why!”
Darcy’s accusation raised Beth’s ire, overcoming her embarrassment. “I’m the reason? How do you figure that? You’re the one surprising innocent ladies with unwelcomed proposals!”
“Will you two lower your voices?” Anne begged in a whisper. “You’ll wake the whole house.”
“Right,” Darcy said as he staggered around the sofa, “can’t interrupt Cate’s beauty sleep.” There was the clink of boot against glass, and an empty whiskey bottle rolled across the carpet.
“I see you’re a drunkard on top of everything else, Mr. Darcy,” Beth declared icily.
“You see nothin’,” Darcy shot back. “I’ve never been drunk afore in my whole life. But if there’s a woman alive that’ll drive a man to drink, you’re it.”
Beth drew back, affronted. With as much dignity as she could muster in a nightgown, she straightened her shoulders and threw her head back. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this. Good night, sir!” She turned, but her progress was halted by his voice.
“Yeah, run. Run like th’ coward you are. Run away from th’ truth.”
She turned to look over her shoulder. “How dare you!”
“‘How dare you!’” he mimicked with a crooked grin. “Whassamatta, scared o’ me? You sure weren’t scared earlier.” He turned to a mortified Anne. “’Sides, we got Annie here to chaperone. I think your virtue’s safe.” His expression darkened. “But it won’t be if you keep hangin’ ’round Whitehead, let me tell you that.”
“Will! Your language!” Anne implored.
“No, Annie. She’s gonna hear me out.” He turned to Beth. “I let you have your say earlier. You gonna be a man about it an’ let me have mine? Uhh, I mean woman… uhh. Oh, hell—you gonna hear me out?”
Anger and curiosity battled within Beth. Curiosity won. “Very well, as long as you refrain from using crude language.”
“There ain’t no other kind to describe Whitehead, but all right.” He gestured for her to be seated. Beth chose the sofa, and Anne joined her. Will ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and peered blearily at the two of them. “Y’all want a drink?”
Beth raised her eyebrows. “No, thank you.” Anne simply shook her head.
“Well, I’m gettin’ one.” Darcy walked over to the sideboard.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Beth’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Darcy snorted as he poured a brandy. “Nope—not if I gotta talk about that lyin’, no-good son of a… snake-in-th’-grass.” He returned to stand between the couch and the fireplace. “Now, let me remember what it was you said.” He scratched his head, a gesture that seemed very out of place in Beth’s perception of the man. It looked… endearing.
“First, about that there dress. Why did you get so upset about it?”
Beth gasped. “Because you bought it for me! You had no right to do that.”
“Beth, he didn’t,” Anne said quietly.
Darcy frowned. “Annie’s right—I didn’t buy that for you; I bought it for her over a year ago. Remember, Annie? My last trip to Fort Worth?” Darcy grinned. “Huh! Good thing Cate never found out, ’cause otherwise I’d never hear the end of it. Anyhow, I just told Annie I figured that dress would be real pretty on you, is all.”
Beth felt both relieved and disappointed, but she chose to put those thoughts aside. “Don’t you see? It implied that you had a claim on me. I was mortified!”
“Didn’t mean no harm by it.”
“You still shouldn’t have done it.”
Darcy waved off her objection. “I was just tryin’ to do somethin’ nice for you. Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry I did, an’ that’s all I’m gonna say ’bout that.
“Next thing. You said you heard me talk poorly o’ Charles an’ Jane. Somethin’ ’bout that he could have done better if he didn’t move here.”
“That’s right. I overheard your conversation with Caroline Bingley.”
He frowned. “What is it with the women ’round here, sneakin’ about, eavesdroppin’ on private conversations?” Both Beth and Anne blushed at that. “Annie here is always over-hearin’ things. Quiet as an Injun, she is. Huh—an’ they call me a half-breed.” Beth was amazed at his statement—she never dreamed he could make light of his heritage.