Love Calls Again Page 22

  "Sir. You cannot be serious about your proposition. Have you not considered the consequences if you decide on divorce?"

  "Consequences for us?"

  "For everyone. Think of Lady Catherine. She could choose to spread malicious things against us."

  "I do not think Lady Catherine's accusations amount to anything more than vague charges."

  "It will make for some talk."

  "It's certain to be unpleasant, but nothing that cannot be borne."

  "Unpleasant! Divorce is more than unpleasant. Our families' reputations are at stake. Miss Darcy's and my sister Catherine's chances to marry well are too. Can you not just see?"

  "Naturally. But it cannot be helped. It will soon be forgotten."

  "Then I must appeal to your honour, sir, to forget all about this. Your respectability."

  "Elizabeth, none of these things mean anything to me, if I am to awake alone in my bed for the rest of my life. You said so yourself last night. Remember? We can no longer put this off. Elizabeth, I almost made you mine! You would be… bound to me had it not been for… my respect for… your honour." He stepped forward and embraced her tenderly, his arms encircled her possessively and resting his lips close to her ear he breathed: "Dearest Elizabeth, I need you by my side. I cannot breathe without you. Be my wife!"

  Elizabeth could barely resist his pleading, her eyes brimmed with tears and her whole body trembled with the emotion of hearing him pronounce those words. But she could not accept such proposition. She placed her hands on his chest and ever so slowly detached herself from his arms.

  "Mr Darcy, just think. Do you want to marry me with a scandalous divorce hanging over us? I shall never be happy this way."

  "It is vile of you to speak thus."

  She sat down again on the love seat and stared into the air in a pensive manner, Lady Catherine's words hammering her mind. "But if Lady Catherine chooses to speak, she can say things that might be even more disagreeable." Say them publicly, so that they could be damaging even if…"

  "If what?"

  "Even if they were unfounded, which we both know they are not."

  "What harm could accusations like that do to us if we are together? I have already endured the impossible."

  "Perhaps more harm than anything else. We will be censured, sentenced by society."

  "English legislation favours divorce."

  "But English society does not. Lady Catherine will destroy us." "Lady Catherine has already guessed the truth. There is another woman in my life, and I cannot deny it any more." He sat down beside her and took her hands, unclasping them. She got up and moved away from him.

  "Pray, do not make love to me now."

  "I cannot help it. You have nourished in me feelings I had not tasted until now."

  "Pray, Mr Darcy. Let us part on good terms. You know perfectly well there is no other way but to part."

  "Elizabeth. No. Nothing has been done that cannot be undone. I shall be free to marry you." He walked up to her and held her again. In a moment he was kissing her, and she kissed him back passionately. But then again, she broke away, and they stared at each other for the longest time. Then she shook her head. "You must go," she said in a very low voice.

  Suddenly he kneeled in front of her and seized her legs. "I beg you, Elizabeth, do not tear us apart."

  She bent over him, her eyes welling with tears. "Mr Darcy, we cannot be happy if it means being cruel to others. We are not alone in the world. We must think of our families, our sisters. Lady Catherine was right. If we act any other manner, I will be encouraging you to act against what I love in you most. Can you not see? I cannot love you unless I give you up."

  Darcy sprang to his feet. He got furious. "I am not resigned to give you up. Not this time. I shall give up my marriage. My wife refused to share my bed. That gives me the right…"

  "The right? Do you think we have any right?"

  "No, of course not! But if we do this now… afterwards, it will only be worse for everyone if we…"

  "No, Mr Darcy. It will not do. You must go back to your wife and forget about me. You shall be well. I shall be well." They looked at each other for a moment more, and then he lowered his gaze and said:

  "I do not think I have ever heard you be cruel before, not even in Hunsford."

  "Cruel?"

  "Even the devil does not think people are well in hell. You are the woman I would have married if it had been possible for me."

  "Possible? How can you say that when you are the one who has made it impossible!"

  "I have not done such thing."

  "Is it not you who gave us up? Did you not leave me at Longbourn and married your cousin? You were just afraid of my refusal. It was your pride that separated us."

  "My pride? 'Had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.' Those were your words! You know not, you can scarcely conceive, how those words have tortured me! It is your rejection, your pride that doomed us to this wretched situation!"

  "I was certainly very far from expecting my words to make so strong an impression! I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such a way!"

  "Could you expect me to have taken your words in any other way? After the humiliation your refusal subjected me to? You made it very clear, as you have stubbornly done again in your letter, that you wished not to see me again."

  "I did not mean to… I… I…"

  "Then you should be more careful with your words. Some people might take them seriously."

  Madeleine Gardiner, then, entered the room, and both of them stopped arguing at once, their flushed faces adding to the heat of the rather loud argument Mrs Gardiner had overheard from the library.

  Mr Darcy, rather nervously, thanked Mrs Gardiner her deference in having permitted him to converse with her niece privately, and without much ceremony bid both ladies goodbye.

  No sooner had Mr Darcy said goodbye than Elizabeth sank in wretched depression. Once he had exited the room, she ran to her bedroom and after locking herself in, cried bitterly on her own.

  Mr Darcy arrived back to his town house and stormed into his study. He poured himself a glassful of brandy, sipped a bit and then stared at the glass. In an impulse of rage, he threw the glass furiously against the opposite wall and then cursed bitterly.

  His whole life had gone to pieces again.

  Eighteen

  —

  Mr Darcy's Mistress

  Three years later…

  In the town house in London, Anne and Darcy arrived home, and the servants took their coats. They climbed the staircase to the second floor of their house, and Darcy went into his study. Anne remained standing at the doorway, looking intently into Darcy's face, as if waiting for him to let her in. The lamp that Darcy was holding threw deep, long shadows on the wall.

  Darcy placed the burning lamp on his desk, and sat at it, absent-mindedly scanning some papers that had been piling up on the desk during his absence. He moved the lamp to his right, and the light projected a shadow on the wall. It was then that he realised Anne was still there. Raising an inquiring brow, he looked up at her.

  Anne said in disgust, "That lamp is smoking. Are you trying to suffocate me? Why do you not ask the servants to see to it?"

  "I am sorry," said he apologetically. "I completely forgot you were there. Yes, the lamp is not working properly, but it never bothered me." She remained in her position staring at him. In seeing that she meant to stay there, he asked rather impatiently, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, you could keep me company, could you not?"

  "Not now, Anne. We have just arrived and there is this…"

  "I have assumed you would take care of these details during my residence in London. You know I am all alone half the time and the rest I spend with Mama. Now she is too ill to be my companion. I cannot depend all my life on paid companionship."

  "Anne, I am not saying I will leave you all alone. I am sorry. Georgiana will be here in two days
, she is…"

  "I do not want Georgiana! I am married to you!"

  He clenched his jaws to refrain from answering back in his fury. He did not want to be rude to her.

  "If you are not more obliging," she continued, "I shall be obligated to return to Rosings."

  "As far as I am concerned you can come and go as it pleases you," he snapped.

  "I could not possibly remain at Rosings with Mama suffering from a severe cough. Pemberley in winter would have been equally unhealthy, you know."

  "I may have to go to Pemberley for a few days."

  "When?"

  "Tomorrow. I am sorry, I should have said something before."

  "On business?" She stepped into the study without invitation, walked up to his desk and sat in front of him. She dreaded being left alone again. Darcy looked at her in discomfort. Is she meaning to keep him company the whole night long?

  "On business, of course. There is a tenant coming up before the Crown Court. A serious matter. I just got the papers from my lawyer. It seems…"

  "Never mind. I am sure it is too complicated. I have enough trouble listening to the problems at Rosings." Suddenly, she changed her expression. Almost in a tender tone she added, "But the change will do you good. And you must be sure to go and see your friends. I could go with you after all." Darcy looked at his wife a bit mystified. Despite her tempestuous character he reckoned she had endeavoured to remain civil to him of late, even kind. But he would not fall for that. He knew perfectly well that behind Anne's kind demeanour there was always a selfish motive.

  Darcy could not bare her company a minute longer. Just when he was about to dismiss her, the maid brought a note from Rosings.

  Mr Darcy, indicating the lamp, talked to the maid. "Do something about this, Peggy."

  The maid took the still smoking lamp, and gave him hers. Anne looked up from the note, her face in wild alarm.

  "Mama has had an attack of apoplexy!" she cried out while rising. "I must go to Rosings directly."

  "Are you sure? Let me see." He read the note quickly and then looked at her apprehensively. "It is true. She is delicate."

  "I must dash. Mama needs me."

  "There is no way we can leave tonight. Tomorrow morning we shall leave for Rosings at the earliest hour."

  Early the next morning, Mr and Mrs Darcy were departing in their carriage. The journey on the road was peacefully done as regards travel inconveniences. In spite of being winter it had not rained or snowed and the roads were in impeccable condition, which was providential.

  Most of the journey Mr and Mrs Darcy were silent. Anne had been crying the whole night through and Darcy, not insensible to her sorrow, and although sleeping in separate chambers, had found it very difficult to sleep. Still in his mind was the sad time when he had lost both his own parents. Anne was such a weak woman. Ever since his aunt's health had decayed, hers had become even more fragile, and she had grown more and more dependent on her husband. A year before, out of compassion, Darcy had made up his mind and taken residence at Rosings Park to see to both his aunt's and wife's recovery. But after Lady Catherine had fallen ill with such sever cold, Darcy removed his wife from Rosings Park to protect her from catching her mother's malady.

  Noticing tears trickling down Anne's cheeks, Darcy held her gloved hands, and caressed them. She looked up at him and smiled gratefully. Unfamiliar as she was with a man's touch, her feminine sensibilities blossomed and she, inexplicably, burst out in racked sobbing. Darcy was compelled to sit by her side and hold her in his arms, which proved to have just the opposite effect he had expected. Her sobbing became hysterical crying, thus leaving his coat soaked and wet from the tears she shed. Moved by her distress, Darcy patted her hair and kissed her tenderly on her forehead, a gesture he would soon regret. Little by little, in the warmth of his arms, she began to feel more secure and her sorrow eventually subdued.

  But, unexpectedly, she did not remove herself from his arms.

  Nay, it felt nice there.

  Anne knew her husband was a very handsome man, and in this position she could feel the strength of his muscles and smell the manly scent emanating from his neck. God! How good it felt! Darcy noticed that she sighed contentedly, gently trembling while she rested her head on his shoulder. It was the first time he had held her so.

  An enticing thought began to form in her head. What if she asked him to… would he… Nay, she could not possibly ask him to consummate their marriage under the present circumstances, not after all those years in which she had locked him out of her bedroom. She had always been so fearful of pregnancy. And surely a breach in her maidenhood would certainly lead to a child up her belly. But then, again, it felt so comfortable in his arms. What would it be like to lie with him in his… bed? Or hers, who cared? To feel the force of his angry flesh in her. All this thinking was leaving her dizzy and breathless.

  Eventually she gathered courage and thus spoke. "Fitzwilliam, we cannot stay like this any longer," she said without moving from the comfort of his embrace.

  "Beg your pardon?" he asked completely unaware of her musings and rather unsure of the turn the conversation had abruptly taken.

  "Our being together and not being together. It is impossible." In spite of being much warmed in his arms, she shivered.

  Darcy thought she was still cold, so he took out a blanket and, without uttering a word, covered her trembling body with it. Then he sat up erect beside her again. Was she talking of connubial practices?

  "You shouldn't have come with me," he merely said, hoping she would abandon the conversation if he did it first.

  Suddenly, she turned and flung her arms around him, pressing him close, kissing him passionately. He did not react but merely permitted her to kiss him.

  Anne immediately caught his meaning. If he were desirous of her attentions, Darcy would not have been so passive. She soon realised her kiss was not being returned, and vexation took control of her mind. Abruptly she drew away, and retreated silent and motionless to the corner of the carriage.

  Darcy's face turned pale and his countenance betrayed his obvious disgust at her display of affection. But he said nothing, nor did he move one single bit from his place.

  "Do not be afraid," she said ironically. "Look, I am not even trying to touch your sleeve."

  He chuckled. "I am not afraid of you, Anne."

  "Are you not?"

  "What is it, Anne? What do you want?" Truth be told, what she wanted was obvious even for a blind man to see. Yet, Darcy could not consent to it, at least not without a fight.

  "I know not what I want. Yet I can tell you what I do not want. Being like this is not what I want. Mama is going to die. I need you with me."

  "Is that it? You kissed me because you are feeling lonely?"

  "I just want us to be together."

  "Anne, I am not going anywhere. There is no need to display feelings that you do not harbour. I have always been with you when you needed me, and this time is no different."

  "I know."

  "But…?"

  "I have been thinking. I am much better now. Perchance I should… we should…"

  "Have children?" he said hopefully.

  "No, of course not. You know that is not possible… I merely want to be… your wife."

  Anne was mad if she thought Darcy would be willing to such sacrifice for nothing. The only thing that might have compelled him to agree to share his bed with her was the prospect of an heir. "I think we should look at reality, not dreams."

  "I understand. I am not… like her."

  "Her?"

  "Miss Bennet. I know she and you…"

  "Miss Bennet is not my mistress, Anne. I have not known of her for three years."

  "Who is your mistress, then?"

  "Is it your idea I should have a mistress?"

  "I know facts of life, Fitzwilliam. You are a man."

  "I am not sure of that anymore," he said bitterly.

  "Well, then? What say you? About us, I me
an."

  He looked at her in apprehension. Did she really mean this? "Is it not a bit late for that? Our being together might carry its consequences, Anne. Do you really want to risk your health bearing my child? Anne, you are already five and thirty," he reminded her. It was a low blow, but she was not giving him any other chance.

  "True. But perchance you and I could… I want… somehow I want to be with you. Surely you must know… there are ways…"

  Goodness, this could not be happening. No, no, no, this conversation was not actually taking place. Anne was not fumbling with connubial union. It was a nightmare. Soon he would wake up.

  And yet, it was no nightmare, no awful dream from which he would wake up rather sweaty. No. Anne was definitely there, and she was definitely deciding to take their wedding vows to their fulfilment.

  "You have become very dear to me, Darcy," she continued, "Once I thought you were leaving me. I thought you were going to her. Mama said…"

  "Anne… Miss Bennet is not…"

  She interrupted him. There was no way Darcy could persuade her that Elizabeth Bennet was not his mistress. She and her mother were already sure he was her lover, and there was no arguing with them. "I wish I could give you what she gives you… what you want from a wife. Find a world where reality will not exist, where you and I could be happy."

  Darcy felt his heart lurch. Poor Anne, poor old Anne. "My dear cousin… where is that place? Is there anywhere any of us can be happy?"

  "Have you not been happy behind the backs of the people who trust you?" She looked out of the window, contempt drawn on her face.

  "Anne. It has been a long time since I have been happy, and it lasted a few minutes."

  "Then you are at an advantage. I have never been happy. I know what it is like, for I have witnessed other people's happiness." She took a deep breath, tilted her head and said in a very low voice, "I think I… love you."