A Lady’s Choice Read online

  To her dismay, Mr. Darcy agreed readily and then bid them good day and Elizabeth was left with her worry as she and Mr. Gardiner continued down the street. Thankfully, Mr. Gardiner did not mention anything else about Mr. Darcy, or the oddness of his appearance in town. If he were truly here on business, why would he have been so eager to accept Mr. Gardiner’s supper invitation?

  Elizabeth was distracted throughout the remainder of the afternoon, and she did not contribute anything to Mr. Gardiner’s meeting with Mr. McGregor. A regimental man through and through, Mr. McGregor served as Colonel Forster’s connection to the Scottish garrisons and should have been Mr. Wickham’s first point of contact when entering Gretna Green, but that was assuming that he wanted to continue his connection to the regiment. As Elizabeth had suspected, the man was of no help, he had not heard anything from Mr. Wickham, although he did know of Mr. Wickham by reputation, which did not reassure Elizabeth one bit.

  She walked with her uncle back to the inn with a heavy heart. Mr. Gardiner was in similar spirits, and by his downcast expression, Elizabeth knew that he would be writing a difficult letter to his brother-in-law. Elizabeth retired to her room to write her own difficult letter to Jane. She poured all of her disappointment and worry into the pages before her, and though she wished she could have Jane’s kind advice and support, writing the letter did make her feel a little better about everything. As Mr. Gardiner’s initial plan had failed, she would be implementing her own search for Lydia tomorrow, with, or without, his assistance.

  * * *

  When Mr. Gardiner knocked on her door, Elizabeth was dressed and ready for supper, although her mood had not improved much since their meeting with the utterly unhelpful Mr. McGregor. The knowledge that Mr. Darcy would be joining them this evening was almost too much to bear, but Elizabeth trusted that her uncle would know not to say too much about their reasons for being in Gretna Green.

  Mr. Darcy was waiting for them downstairs, and Elizabeth was taken aback by the rush of emotion she felt upon seeing him again. She had been too shocked to register anything more than surprise when they had happened upon him in the street earlier in the day, but to see him now in candlelight, her breath was taken away. He was finely dressed, as always, but his manner of dress was not flashy or ostentatious, although the tailoring of his jacket and the fine material of his shirt and vest betrayed the value of the garments. He bowed gracefully to them, and greeted Mr. Gardiner warmly, and Elizabeth was grateful for the low light that disguised the flush upon her cheek.

  Their meal was simple, but delicious, and Elizabeth tasted her first haggis, though she was not sure how to feel about it, the food was warm and solid in her stomach, and the wine served with the meal was making her feel a little more comfortable. Mr. Darcy was engaging and congenial, and he and Mr. Gardiner talked at length about Pemberley and his fishing stocks, and though her mind was on Lydia, Elizabeth was relieved to listen to conversation that did not revolve around her selfish younger sister and her grave mistake.

  The time passed quickly, and Elizabeth did not notice how many glasses of wine she had drunk, but by the time the remnants of their meal had been cleared away, she was feeling lightheaded and was laughing easily at the turns of conversation and at Mr. Darcy’s surprisingly charming wit. If he had shown this side of himself in the past, perhaps she would have been more predisposed to find him an agreeable companion. This was a changed man seated before her, and Elizabeth watched him with interest as he talked with her uncle about his beloved estate.

  “Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, you must excuse me. The excitement of the day, and the travel has exhausted me. If you will pardon me, I believe I will go up.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise as Mr. Darcy rose and bid her uncle goodnight. She expected Mr. Darcy to excuse himself and bid her goodnight as well, but to her horror, as Mr. Gardiner left them to go up to his room and they were alone in the inn’s dining room.

  “Miss Bennet, I hope I am not overstaying my welcome.” Elizabeth shook her head and took another sip of wine to hide her nervousness.

  “No, indeed, Mr. Darcy. I am glad of your company. These past days have been...” Her voice trailed away and she took a breath to change the subject, but Mr. Darcy’s face, far from being aloof and disinterested, as she had expected, was full of concern. Elizabeth sighed heavily and her head dropped against her hand.

  “Miss Bennet, I hope you will... I hope you will be honest with me. Please.” The gentleness of his voice warmed her just a little, but it might have been the wine. She shook her head and Mr. Darcy picked up his own wine glass, his fingers tracing the smooth, fluted curve of the goblet gracefully.

  “Perhaps if I am honest with you first, Miss Bennet, you will take heart and tell me what troubles you. Mr. Gardiner did not say as much, but I know that you are here in Gretna Green for a very troubling reason.” Elizabeth looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth dropping open to protest, but he held up his hand to silence her.

  “I fear that I am to blame for all of your woe, Miss Bennet, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Mr. Wickham...”

  “Mr. Wickham!” The man’s name exploded from her lips and she covered her mouth with her hand at the unexpected outburst before murmuring her apology. Mr. Darcy nodded, but his expression was a mixture of sadness and frustration.

  “Yes. I have known Mr. Wickham for years. Since we were young. And he has many black marks against his name. So many in fact that I should have known that he could not be trusted in the company of anyone that I cared for.” Elizabeth felt a blush rising to her cheeks, and the sudden urge to jump up from the table and rush upstairs to her room. She gripped the edge of the table and willed him to continue. The wine glass in front of her was empty, and Mr. Darcy refilled it. She thanked him quietly and took a sip, but her head was swimming with wanting to tell him everything.

  “You see, Miss Bennet, I cannot say more, but Mr. Wickham cannot be trusted in the company of impressionable young ladies, or I fear that he may...”

  “Mr. Darcy, I cannot keep this secret any longer!” Elizabeth whispered the words loudly, and Mr. Darcy’s mouth turned down in a frown of regret. Elizabeth continued, feeling nothing but relief at revealing the truth. “Mr. Wickham has indeed done something most villainous. Lydia, my youngest sister, he has taken her from Brighton, and we believe that they are here! Oh, Mr. Darcy, I am sick with worry and... Anger.” Darcy’s hand closed into a fist on the tabletop, his anger clear in the set of his jaw.

  “Mr. Wickham will pay for this scandal, I will see to it. I had a letter from a friend in Brighton, he informed me of Mr. Wickham’s disappearance, and that he was in the company with a young lady. A young lady who could only be your sister. I knew that I had to leave Pemberley at once. Gretna Green was the only place they could have gone. A close friend of mine works here as a solicitor. He has confirmed that Mr. Wickham is here in town.” Elizabeth felt her eyes fill with tears and a sob caught at the edge of her lips.

  They were here.

  “Do you know...”

  “No, I am sorry, Miss Bennet, I do not yet know where they are. But tomorrow I plan on searching every lodging house and inn in the city, and we will find them.” Elizabeth shook her head, filled with relief and worry and... Something else. That Mr. Darcy would sacrifice his good name to help them, to help Lydia... to help her.

  “Mr. Darcy, I cannot find the words to thank you for your assistance... I am truly overwhelmed.”

  “No, Miss Bennet, you must accept my apology. If I had warned you of Mr. Wickham’s treachery sooner, if I had told you of the shame that almost befell my own sister...” Impulsively, Elizabeth reached out and laid her hand over Mr. Darcy’s. His flesh was cold, but her palm burned and she pulled her hand back quickly, her face heating at her own boldness.

  She gasped as Mr. Darcy caught her fingers in his own. She stared at their hands momentarily before looking up at him and meeting the intensity of his gaze and he released her hand, but did not pull away
.

  “Mr. Darcy... We should not... I should not...” She stood up from the table, her legs unsteady from the wine and the intensity of his gaze, and perhaps the intensity of the feelings that surged within her. She was truly overwhelmed, and her hips glanced off the table as she tried to get away. Mr. Darcy stood and reached out to steady her, his hand gripping her elbow firmly as he steered her towards the stairs.

  “I should not...”

  “You have had a long, and trying day, Miss Bennet. I am sure that your heart is heavy with all of the news you have had. But you must believe that I am here to help you.” Elizabeth stumbled just a little, leaning against the man at her side just a little. He bore her weight easily, and she felt his other hand slide over her waist as he assisted her up the stairs. Her heart thundered in her chest as they climbed each step together. The inn was quiet, and Elizabeth had not realized how much time had passed since Mr. Gardiner had gone up.

  The door to her room was on the left and she reached for it with a shaking hand. Mr. Darcy’s hand followed hers, his fingers wrapping around the knob and turning it slowly to avoid making any sound. Elizabeth turned to look into Mr. Darcy’s face, her mouth opening to bid him goodnight, to say anything to escape the heat and confusion of his touch. To escape how much she wanted him to hold her closer and to caress every part of her body.

  The polite words died on her lips as Mr. Darcy’s mouth met hers, his lips pressing gently but firmly against hers. The hand on her hip gripped her firmly and his chest pressed lightly against hers, daring her to move closer. Elizabeth froze, all of her focus on the feel of Mr. Darcy’s kiss. Her polite words became a soft moan, and it was the only encouragement that he needed to step closer and press her into the wooden doorframe. Her shoulders met the wood and her hands found his chest, not to push him away, but to run her hands over the fine material of his jacket and tangle in his darkly curling hair.

  He groaned against her lips and his hand traced along the neckline of her gown, passing gently over the swell of her heaving breasts, his thumbs rubbing across her painfully hardened nipples, and down the smooth taper of her waist. Elizabeth felt heat growing in her most secret places and her heart leapt as Mr. Darcy’s touch dipped lower and lower and his kiss grew more and more insistent and hungry.

  All at once, Elizabeth could take no more, and she pulled away, her face hot with shame at what had just happened. She was here in Gretna Green to find her wayward sister who had done scandalous things with an unmarried man... and now.

  With a gasping sob, Elizabeth turned from Mr. Darcy’s embrace and pushed open the door to her room. His eyes burned with an emotion she could not define, and she felt something similar burning within her own chest as she murmured “goodnight” and closed the door.

  With her heart pounding in her chest and her breath coming fast, Elizabeth leaned against the door in the darkened room and tried to process what had just happened. Conflicting emotions crashed in her mind, and as her breath began to slow, she resolved that no one could ever know what had happened tonight. It had been a mistake to tell Mr. Darcy why they were here, the wine had clouded her judgment.

  She rubbed the back of her hand over her lips, trying to forget the thrill that had thrummed through her body as Mr. Darcy’s lips had possessed hers. It was impossible... improbable. Surely a scandal. She leaned her head back against the door and listened as Mr. Darcy’s footsteps as they descended the stairs.

  Elizabeth pulled herself away from the door, letting out a breath she did not know that she was holding. He had been waiting for her to open the door again, to invite him in.

  Elizabeth lit her lamp with a shaking hand. But this time the emotion that shook her was something closer to betrayal.

  It was as Elizabeth had feared. Lydia’s shame and selfishness had now tainted her sisters. Mr. Darcy knew why they were in Gretna Green; perhaps he thought that if Lydia was inclined to indulge her baser needs that Elizabeth would be made of similarly weak mettle.

  “You will be disappointed, sir.” Elizabeth muttered furiously as she tugged at the ribbons holding her dress closed at the shoulder. She pulled her nightgown over her head and climbed under the coverlet with a head clouded with conflicting emotions. She stared at the flickering candle flame, her eyelids as heavy as her heart, but the wine she had drunk brought sleep on faster than she had expected and she felt the misery of the day slip away with each breath she took. But with each little hurt that fell from her heart, a new feeling took its place, and each of those feelings had something to do with Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth’s Folly

  Chapter 3

  Elizabeth awoke the next morning with a throbbing in her temples, but a very clear memory of everything that had happened outside of her door the night before. She dressed carefully, choosing a modest gown and bonnet that would help her blend into the busy streets of Gretna Green. Mr. Gardiner’s plan was similar to what Mr. Darcy had told her over too many regretful glasses of wine. She intended to let the gentlemen conduct their own search of the town, while she explored another, more specific avenue.

  Mr. Gardiner was already downstairs, and Elizabeth waved away his offer of breakfast, but gratefully accepted a cup of tea. As she was taking her first sip of the warming liquid, Mr. Darcy appeared in the door and Elizabeth nearly dropped her cup as he greeted Mr. Gardiner and bowed to her.

  “Mr. Darcy, I am surprised to see you here this morning!” It was clear that Mr. Darcy had not mentioned anything to her uncle about his true business here in Gretna Green, and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and sat back in her chair. She was curious as to whether Mr. Darcy would reveal his own plans to Mr. Gardiner, if not, she might tell her uncle herself.

  “Mr. Gardiner, I must confess something to you with the utmost urgency.” Mr. Gardiner glanced uncomfortably at Elizabeth, but Mr. Darcy continued.

  “Sir, what I have to say is for Miss Bennet’s ears as well. I count myself the most unfortunate of men to have been in the close acquaintance of Mr. Wickham, who is even now bent on a familiar course of action. Regrettably, I know that he has absconded with your niece, Mr. Gardiner, and I have reason to believe, as I am sure you do as well, that they are here in Gretna Green. My deepest wish is that you will allow me to assist you in your search of the town so that we may see this wrong put right once more.” Mr. Gardiner looked stricken, and Elizabeth could not hide her surprise at Mr. Darcy’s earnest candor.

  “Why, Mr. Darcy I do not know what to say except to thank you for your assistance most heartily.” Mr. Gardiner shook the other man’s hand enthusiastically, and against her better judgment, Elizabeth felt a small smile creep across her lips. She lifted her teacup hurriedly, hoping that Mr. Darcy had not noticed, but something in his eyes told her that he did.

  “I am grateful that you have Mr. Darcy’s company, uncle. For I mean to conduct my own investigation of the town while you gentlemen are otherwise occupied.”

  “Why, Lizzy, whatever can you mean? Surely Mr. Darcy and I can make an effective search of the inns and boarding houses...”

  “I am confident that you shall make fine progress, uncle. However, I am looking for Lydia... not Mr. Wickham. There are a fair few ladies’ shops nearby that carry fine dresses and hats from London, and I have a feeling that many of them will be to Lydia’s taste.” Elizabeth watched realization dawn on Mr. Darcy before her uncle made the same conclusion, and she congratulated herself on the surprised expression that both men wore.

  “Quite right, Lizzy. You must watch for Lydia, Mr. Darcy and I will ensnare that rogue, Mr. Wickham. We shall catch him at his own game before they can slip away once more. They will know that Colonel Forster is on their trail, so we cannot assume that he will be consorting with other militia members. Our contact, Mr. McGregor will be of no help, I am afraid.” Mr. Gardiner seemed as pleased as he could be with the change in their situation, and he seemed as eager to begin his search as Elizabeth was.

  Elizabeth could feel Mr. Darcy’s eyes upon her
as her uncle spoke of their plans, but she did not return his bold stare, nor grant him any more notice than was necessary. She murmured her thanks when he held the door of the inn open for her, and curtseyed vaguely as he bowed and led Mr. Gardiner towards the inns at the far side of town. Her cheeks burned as she felt his eyes linger on her face while she spoke, her hands as she tightened the ribbon on her bonnet, and her neckline as she pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders.

  No, sir, you will not make a fool of me. I am no Lydia.

  The words repeated in Elizabeth’s head, but it was the conviction of those words that terrified her, or perhaps, the lack of conviction.

  The first shop she chose had a display of finely feathered hats and delicately embroidered gloves in the window, and Elizabeth was sure that the bright display would catch Lydia’s eye immediately. She wasted no time enquiring after a “certain young woman, newly arrived from London,” someone she had met in passing, “a Mrs. Wickham, perhaps?” And while the young women in the shop were very helpful, no one remembered Lydia specifically. Determined to continue her search, Elizabeth thanked them all for their kindness and moved on to the next shop on her mental list - a dress shop that boasted fabrics and designs newly arrived from Paris. With Napoleon on the move in France, items of French origin had become scandalously fashionable and Elizabeth suspected that Lydia’s vanity would not be satisfied until she owned something uniquely French.

  This time, her description of her sister yielded better results. “I’ve not heard of a Mrs. Wickham, but a Mrs. Robin, or Robins, surely... she was very loud and charming,” and had come into the shop only the day before, enquiring after a reticule made of embroidered French leather. The shop carried no such item, but Elizabeth was certain that Lydia had no intention of buying anything so extravagant. She probably thought it a grand joke to have the shop ladies searching frantically for one that matched her request. She left the shop in higher spirits, and made her way down the main street enquiring as she went in shops that caught her eye.