She turned her face to gaze at him, her eyes suspiciously shiny. “Do you not understand?” she asked, despair in her voice. “We had him in the same room as Georgiana. To you, he is a friend, but to me he is a powerful and dangerous Frenchman who could crown his career by discovering Georgiana is—”
Darcy laid his fingers over her mouth before she could say more – her warm, soft, tempting lips. “I know. That is likely why my aunt set out to draw his attention, but he would never have suspected anything. If I said she was my sister, why would he doubt it?” He lowered his hand before his fingertips could begin exploring her face of their own volition.
“It may seem natural to you, but it is all wrong for me! My father is a gentleman of no particular substance. I never laid eyes on a member of the nobility before I met your aunt. Meeting the French commander while walking in the park and being invited to dinner – this sort of thing does not happen to me. Georgiana is completely out of my sphere, and to cap it all off I was in the room with all of you while your aunt spoke treason! It is too much. And your aunt thinks she can fix it all by giving me a cup of tea.” Her voice broke.
“You have done remarkably well.” Sometimes praise helped when Georgiana was upset. “No one would know that you feel out of place. I did not even know it.”
Apparently that must have been the wrong thing to say, for she bowed her head and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.
Desperately he sought for something to comfort her. What could console her when she felt the world had gone mad? Perhaps the truth was best. “It must seem very strange. We all feel out of place at one time or another. Do you remember the first time we met, when you were proud Titania surrounded by your court of puppies and I was mere Theophilus Thistle trespassing upon your bower in the bluebells? You are still Queen Titania to me, and you always will be. We were apart from the entire world that day, and that magic was more true than any inherited rank.” Carefully he laid his hands on her upper arms. “All will be well again, Elizabeth. All will be well.” His voice fell to a whisper.
She made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “That is what I told Georgiana the day you were arrested in almost the same words. But I only said it to calm her, knowing it was not true. And it is still not true.”
“Not yet, perhaps, but what feels impossible today will become easier with time, and I will do whatever is in my power to make you happy again. Are not some things better already? Your sister is able to live her life in the open and is married to the man she loves. Would you go back to the time when she lived in the stables and saw only you and Miss Lucas?”
She shook her head. “Of course I am glad Jane is happy. You should not pay any attention to me. I am simply overwrought.”
It was even harder to see her pretend to be calm than to watch her tears. He tried another tack. “Elizabeth, when I arrived at Netherfield, I was at the lowest point I have ever known. I had not seen any of my family in years – not Kit, not my aunt, not Richard who had been my closest friend – and I saw little chance of that changing. Six long years of being alone with no one but Georgiana, of trusting no one, and we were even farther from gaining our freedom than when we had started. Everyone saw me as a traitor, just as you did. But now I have my family again. I am no longer alone with my secret, and I can hope that someday England will be ours again. But at the same time, all this has been purchased by taking you away from the family you love, and that should never have happened. But I promise you, what you are feeling now will end, just as it did for me.”
It was not the whole truth, but he could not tell her that the moment which had changed everything for him had been meeting her in the bluebell wood. He did not have the right to tell her that, not yet. And he most especially did not have the right to brush her rosy lips with his own. But, like Theophilus Thistle helpless under the spell of the fairy queen, he did it anyway. For a brief moment he thought he could smell bluebells.
She stiffened – of course she did! What else could he expect? But as he tried to collect his wits enough to step away and apologize, the muscles of her arms relaxed under his hand, and she swayed towards him. Only a little, perhaps no more than an inch. Still, it was enough to make him lose his head, as surely as if the queen of the fairies truly held him in her thrall.
He had been starving for this, for her touch, for a kiss, and even more so for her tenderness. That need was all that allowed him to hold back the storm of passionate desire he had been denying since they met. For now it was enough to taste her sweetness. For now.
Except that someone was laughing.
Furious, Darcy whirled around to face the intruder, instinctively shielding Elizabeth with his body.
General Desmarais stood in the doorway, his thumb hooked in his sash. “Ah, Darcy, I cannot turn my back on you for a moment! I was just down the street when I recalled I had not asked your aunt’s permission to invite Miss Gardiner to dinner. Now I see you may have something more important to discuss with your aunt than my so inconsequential dinner. Ha! I knew as soon as I saw you with her in the park that this one was special to you.”
Mortified, Darcy said, “This is a private matter. I will be happy to ask my aunt your question.”
His aunt's voice came from behind Desmarais. “What question is that?”
The general stepped back and bowed. “I wished to ask your permission to invite Miss Gardiner to join Darcy at my house for dinner.” He chuckled. “Darcy will have a more serious question for you.”
“Miss Gardiner may do as she pleases,” said Lady Matlock icily. “Elizabeth, why are you hiding behind Darcy?”
Elizabeth stepped away from him. If her lips were rosier than usual, her expression was unruffled. “It is nothing, madam. General Desmarais misunderstood the scene he came upon and is hinting that Mr. Darcy owes me an offer of marriage. He does not, and even if either of us wished for such a thing, it would not matter. I am an orphan, and I will not be of age for almost a year. Under the Civil Code which your Emperor was kind enough to impose upon us, I cannot marry until I am of age.”
“But no!” cried the general. “That is not true. Your guardian may consent for you, or a council of your other relatives.”
Elizabeth's smile did not falter. “Alas, I have no surviving relatives, and Lady Matlock's guardianship of me is based on an informal verbal agreement and therefore it is not valid for the purposes of the code. I have looked into it. Besides, this was nothing but a foolish moment of comfort gone astray. Should you consider a mere kiss to require marriage as a remedy, I must warn you every single French soldier in England owes a proposal to at least half a dozen village girls.”
“I would not be so impolite as to argue with a lady, Miss Gardiner, but dare I hope you will consent to accompany Darcy to dinner tomorrow? I think my wife would like you. She argues with me, too.” His eyes twinkled.
“I will look forward to meeting her,” said Elizabeth with a curtsey.
The general said, “Excellent! I will bid you adieu until tomorrow evening, then.” He bowed and left the room, but his departing chuckle was distinctly audible.
Lady Matlock wore a calculating look. “Will he return to this subject at some point, Darcy?”
Darcy did not meet her eyes. “It does not matter.” Desmarais loved to meddle and was almost certain to badger Darcy about Elizabeth, but he did not wish to give Elizabeth anything more to worry about. He had already done enough. It had been a wrench to hear her dismiss their kiss so lightly.
“It might be—”
She was interrupted by a loud crash from the direction of the kitchen, followed by a woman’s voice shrieking, running footsteps, and barking.
Darcy shot to his feet. “Good Lord, I completely forgot!” He dashed for the door, but it was too late.
Resignedly he held the door open and allowed the puppy to charge past him. “My apologies. I had meant to surprise you when we returned from our walk, but then we were distracted. He must have hea
rd your voice.”
Puck was now gangly and close to his full size, but that did not stop him from jumping into Elizabeth’s lap and enthusiastically licking her face. Elizabeth almost disappeared behind his bulk.
“Down, sir!” Darcy commanded.
Puck ignored him completely. Of course, that might have been because Elizabeth’s arms were wrapped tightly around him.
“Oh, Puck!” Elizabeth’s voice was unsteady. “What are you doing here?”
Darcy said, “Since you were missing your home, I thought you might like to have him here. I went to Meryton last night and asked your father if I could buy him. I said I had taken a fancy to him while I was at Netherfield.” He held his breath waiting for her response. Would she be pleased?
Elizabeth buried her face in Puck’s fur. The dog gazed up at Darcy, panting happily.
Darcy squatted down beside them. “Good?” he asked huskily.
She turned her head to face him. “Oh, yes.” Puck rewarded her with another face lick. “Puck, when did you grow so big? But will he not be too much trouble here? You have so many lovely things that he could damage.”
Darcy lowered his voice. “One of the grooms will take charge of training him and will have responsibility for his immediate care. He can be in the stables some of the time. As long as we do not try to keep him inside for extended periods, I think we can manage it.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. And there was happiness in them.
Chapter 14
The following afternoon Elizabeth paused at the top of the stairs to smooth her skirts one last time. After a deep breath, she started downstairs and halted just inside the sitting room door.
Georgiana gasped at the sight of her. “You look so beautiful!”
Darcy said nothing, but his eyes grew even darker as he stared at her. Something about his look made liquid heat pool in her stomach.
“You are very kind,” said Elizabeth. “I never imagined I would wear a dress this lovely, but I fear I will be quite overshadowed at Carlton House.”
“It is impossible not to be overshadowed at Carlton House,” said Lady Matlock. “The house itself is so overdressed that no one short of royalty can compare. But I was right to order evening gowns for you.”
Darcy took her hand and raised it, his eyes meeting hers as he brushed his lips against the back of her fingers. Even through a silk glove, the sensation sent prickles of excitement down her arm. “You will be the most beautiful woman there,” he said huskily.
The carriage was already at the door. Lady Matlock said, “One of the maids will be chaperoning you on the journey, but Darcy tells me that a chaperone would not be welcome at the dinner. I have no worries, of course, since you will have Darcy by your side.”
Elizabeth wanted to laugh. How could Darcy chaperone her when he was the man most likely to compromise her? But she did not care. She had been unchaperoned so many times since that fateful trip to Netherfield that one more hardly mattered.
The driver set them down in front of an impressive portico of Corinthian columns. Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm and tried not to gawk as they entered the palatial residence of the late Prince Regent. The majestic ceiling of the cavernous entrance hall soared high above the expanse of marble floor.
One magnificent room followed another. The numerous swags of crimson velvet surrounding the showy gold plasterwork in the drawing room made Elizabeth dizzy, and she was grateful when they passed through it to a relatively subdued anteroom. “Your aunt was correct,” she whispered to Darcy. “Even the most beautiful gown would be overshadowed.” It was by far the grandest and most ostentatious building she had ever seen. How ironic it was – the Prince Regent had spared no expense when it came to building his personal residence, and now it served as General Desmarais's home.
“We usually meet in the anteroom because Desmarais and his wife dislike the overdecorated state rooms,” said Darcy. “The emperor insisted upon having his commander take over the Prince Regent’s house, but it is not at all to Desmarais’s taste.”
“I can understand that!” Elizabeth said. At least there was one thing she and the general could agree on.
The other dinner guests also showed restraint in their appearance. There were no French uniforms; even the general wore evening clothes. It was not a large gathering: two other couples, one French, one English, and the general and his wife.
Elizabeth could not decide which guests held less appeal for her – the French for being French, or the English for being traitors. Of course, they likely thought she was one, too. But Darcy made no pretense of sympathy to the French cause and no one commented on it. Perhaps they were accustomed to it.
General Desmarais introduced a warm, motherly woman as his wife. “This is Darcy's little friend, the one I told you about. I think his days as a single man are numbered.”
“Do not tease poor Darcy,” admonished Mme. Desmarais. “And Miss Gardiner is not yet used to your ways. He only means to help, you see. Darcy is so serious, n’est-ce pas? My husband wishes to see him laugh more.”
The disarming affection between the general and his wife made Elizabeth lower her guard. Looking up at Darcy with an arch smile, she said, “I begin to wonder about your friendships, Mr. Darcy. The general seems to enjoy your company because you are prickly, resentful, argumentative, and occasionally insulting. Now his wife tells me you are too serious. Do all your friends hold you in such high esteem?”
The general roared with laughter. “She has you there, my friend! Ma chérie, do you see why I think she will be a good wife for him?”
“Mme. Desmarais, now your husband is teasing me,” said Elizabeth. “I have already explained to him that I cannot marry until I am of age.”
“Ah, did not Mrs. Fitzwilliam tell you? She should have received a document this morning naming her as your legal guardian.” His eyes twinkled at her.
“General, you are full of surprises! Mr. Darcy, is he always such a busybody?” The words were escaped from her mouth before she realized what she had said. Had she truly just criticized the French commander to his face? She had to learn to think before she spoke.
“Incurably so,” said Darcy, who did not seem disturbed by this new information.
Heat rising in her cheeks, Elizabeth turned back to Mme. Desmarais. “I grow ever more mystified as to why these gentlemen seek out each other's company.”
“But they also have many things in common, my dear. They sit up talking until all hours, the two of them, whenever Darcy is in town.”
They did? Elizabeth had assumed Darcy was only part of a larger circle of acquaintances. Was it possible he was the general's particular friend? A shiver went down her back.
The General clapped his hand to his chest in a dramatic manner. “Ah, chérie, you are not going to reveal our secret vice, are you? It will ruin our reputations. Poor Darcy will never be able to hold up his head in public if word gets out. It is a terrible, terrible thing that we discuss during those late nights.”
Darcy leaned down and spoke in her ear. “We argue about Latin poetry.”
Elizabeth's jaw dropped. Could he possibly be serious?
“Ah, Miss Gardiner, now you know our dreadful secret. I hope you will not hold it against Darcy.”
She struggled to find her scattered composure. “I see you both have hidden depths!”
“Oh, you,” said Mme. Desmarais to her husband. “You should greet your other guests and leave poor Miss Gardiner to me.”
The general made a precise military bow to his wife. “As always, I can deny you nothing, ma chérie.”
Taking Elizabeth’s arm, Mme. Desmarais led her to a sofa and sat beside her. “You must not take my husband too seriously. He once dreamed of teaching classics at the Sorbonne, but the Emperor had other plans. I am not complaining; the Emperor has been very good to him. But sometimes I think my husband views Darcy as the student he was never able to have.”
Elizabeth blinked. The sup
reme commander of the French troops in England dreamed of teaching Latin poetry? “He was not always a soldier, then?”
“Not at all! We French were not born with the ambition of conquering other countries, but when the coalition attacked us, we had to fight back. Now we follow our Emperor, and sometimes it leads us to surprising places. Who would have thought my Latin scholar husband would have a talent for military command?”
A new guest arrived, a young Frenchman. “I beg pardon for my tardiness. Monsieur Lamarque was beside himself today. He thought he was close to identifying the publisher of The Loyalist, but it proved to be a false trail. He is obsessed with finding him.”
General Desmarais frowned. “A pity the man slipped through his fingers. The lies The Loyalist has been spreading about Princess Charlotte coming to England have been agitating the populace.”
One of the other guests asked, “Are they lies, then, sir?”
“Yes, there is no doubt. Princess Charlotte is still in Canada. I have spies there who would inform me if she had left. This is just a ploy to give false hope to foolish people, and they will be the ones who will suffer when we have to repress their rebellions.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard. She dared not look at Darcy. Had he known Desmarais had spies watching the real Georgiana Darcy?
“Enough politics!” Mme. Desmarais declared. “Dinner is ready, and I will not have you spoil your digestion with such unpleasant subjects.”
Elizabeth kept her eyes down as Darcy led her into the dining room. It had been a sobering reminder that the amusing, affable lover of Latin poetry also wished to arrest, and no doubt hang, Frederica's charming friend Andrew, and he would not hesitate to kill Englishmen for their loyalty to their country. Vague nausea wound through her. How could she have forgotten even for a moment that Desmarais's hands were stained with English blood?
***
To Darcy’s surprise, Elizabeth instructed the maid to ride outside with the coachman. Why did she wish to have no chaperone? He could see lines of strain around her fine eyes, so it was unlikely to be for any romantic reason.