“However, I sense dissimulation on your part. These are sad eyes, not happy eyes.”
Lizzy dropped her gaze, the intensity of his stare unnerving her. “It is nothing, William. Better if we do not speak of it.”
He frowned, transferring his hands to clasp both of hers, silence falling for a brief time. “Elizabeth, I appreciate that I have no right to insist you divulge all information to me. Secrets are a natural human necessity, I suppose. However, I would hate to think you felt you
Lizzy shook her head, actually chuckling slightly as she returned her gaze to his serious face. “William, you truly are too amazing. I could almost become annoyed at that fact alone if it was not so wonderful.” She sighed, patting his puzzled face. “I only wish to spare you pain, my love. I… It is a letter from Lydia, is all. She is well,” she hastily added, Darcy's countenance instantaneously darkening with sorrow. “Too well, in fact. Giddy with the joy of balls and friends and her dear Wickham.” She shrugged, staring into the pond. “I likely read too much in between the lines as she never relates anything but her bounding happiness. I am not sure if I am sad or thankful for her perpetual immaturity and gullibility.”
She leaned against Darcy's side, his arm surrounding her with a gentle squeeze. Silence fell again, the soft chirping of birds and steady trickle of water over rocks serenely persisting despite the mild tension in the air. When he broke the calm, his voice was quite low and hesitant. “Does he… harm her in any way, do you think?”
“No. I am certain even foolish Lydia would recognize and not tolerate physical violence. As I said, she seems happy. She says he works until morning and that they have little money and that he gambles, only to make money of course. I suppose it is uncharitable of me to immediately leap to negative conclusions, but I rather doubt he is working, nor that he gambles out of duty!”
Darcy released a guttural sound that clearly relayed his views on Wickham's behavior. “It is as I imagined it would be for them. I did harbor some hope that matrimony and the responsibility incurred would breed a sense of honor in Wickham, and perhaps it may yet to some degree. At least he has not abandoned her and is maintaining his post.” He paused, shifting on the hard rock and pulling her tighter into his side. “Elizabeth, I have a confession. You know I do not enjoy speaking of… him, and the guilt that abides in my heart has caused you to not broach the subject. In truth I am relieved and I do appreciate your compassion. Nonetheless, I do not wish for secrets between us if at all possible to avoid.”
She glanced up quickly, tears springing to her eyes. “Forgive me, William! I did not mean…”
He halted her with a kiss, smiling as he resumed, “Allow me to finish. The secret I refer to is my own. I have vast connections, as you know, and have utilized my contacts to keep abreast of Wickham's activities both personal and professional. I receive regular dispatches, in fact. So I am asking you to forgive me for not sharing what I know.”
Lizzy's mouth had fallen open and her eyes were wide. Darcy kissed her cheek, holding her gaze as he continued, “It is as you have deduced. Wickham is not faithful to your sister, although I am assured that he is discreet, which is a surprising improvement. He gambles too much and drinks, but he does pay his bills, adequately fulfills his duties, has been in no serious offenses, and by all outward appearances cares for Lydia's needs. As you say she claims, my sources assure me that she is content. How much she is aware of Wickham's activities, I do not know. Many women in her place simply deny the truth, living in a state of willing blindness. I would have wished more for her in life, as I know you would as well, my love, but it is not as horrible as I envisioned.” He smiled wryly. “I guess that is enough to be thankful for.”
Lizzy was dumbfounded. “Why would you do this, William? Lydia freely placed herself in this situation. It is not your fault! You have no reason to exert such efforts or worry so.”
“Logically I comprehend the truth of your assertions, Elizabeth. Lydia is a foolish girl to be sure; however, you know she would not be in this particular situation if not for me. My damnable pride and sense of politesse, not wanting to cause scandal to my family. It allowed a villain to roam free. To charm, flatter, and destroy young girls at will. And I was forced to see them married!” He shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. “Nonetheless, I watch over Lydia not out of guilt… well, not completely anyway, but because it is ethical and obligatory. She is your sister, and thus my family. I will not allow overt harm to come to her. If Wickham's behavior becomes unmanageable or hurtful, I have people in place who will remove her, forcefully if necessary.”
He paused, a cloud crossing his features and tight clenching of his jaw apparent. Not for the first time Lizzy sensed there was more to his personal story of Wickham. The bits she knew from his letter and a few vague comments or short conversations like now did not fully compute. She remembered the rage on his face as far back as their days in Hertfordshire. If she hadn't been so angry with him at his insulting proposal she would have shrunk in fear from the fury evident when she threw Wickham's name into his face. And there were other unguarded moments when she had noticed expressions of profound disgust or anger when Wickham's name was mentioned. Curiosity to know more of their youth burned within, but some instinct warned her that it was likely worse than she imagined and perhaps more than she was prepared to handle. So she never asked.
He sighed faintly and shrugged imperceptibly, his face clearing as he turned toward her.
Darcy cupped her cheek, smiling in peace. “Let us make a new vow. I shall put the past affairs with Wickham behind me as best as I can, and we shall share our future knowledge freely. I cannot promise to embrace lengthy conversations on the subject, but I will not avoid them or wince overly. Deal?”
Laughing lightly, Lizzy kissed him in joy. “Have I told you lately, beloved, that you are the best man in the world?”
“Yes, but you may say it again if you wish,” he offered with a grin.
She encircled his neck, drawing his forehead to hers. “You are the best man in the world, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I love you.”
Chapter Two
Samuel Oliver and Marguerite Charbonneau were joined in Holy Matrimony on September the third in the intimate Pemberley Chapel. The groom wore a fine suit of black, dashing and elegant despite the blush upon his cheeks and trembling hands. He was attended by a livery-garbed, wigged, and smiling Phillips, yet leaning on a crutch and pale. The bride was resplendent in a white taffeta gown, her golden hair for once not in a severe knot but stunningly curled and piled atop her delicate head. She was attended by her sister Dominique, a lady's maid at the inn in Matlock where Marguerite had once been employed, wearing a lacy gown of rose organdy. Aside from a few bouquets of late summer flowers and ribbons upon the pews, the chapel was left unadorned, its natural beauty and reverent essence shining brighter than any decoration would have.
Reverend Bertram, dressed in his finest vestments, performed the traditional ceremony. Marguerite was baptized a Catholic, as were most French, but religion had not played a large part in her life. Therefore, she had readily embraced the Anglican views and had met with Reverend Bertram several times to familiarize herself with Samuel's chosen faith. Essentially it was the blessing of God that was of vital importance to both of them. The entire household staff, a handful of outside staff, a few other friends from the community, and Samuel's father, a butler at Yeldersley Hall near Ashbourne, were present to witness the union. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy sat in the front pew, adding their blessings to the solemn event.
All plans had proceeded as initially outlined a month ago. Darcy arranged for a coach to transport the newlyweds to Windermere, where they would holiday for two weeks. Samuel was consulted on all arrangements but offered little in the way of feedback, generally far too uncomfortable merely by being in his Master's study to even consider carrying on a collaborative conversation. Lizzy had better luck with Marguerite, although her involvement was minimal, primarily allowing her maid to do whatever she wished in regards to the wedding. Therefore, like most women throughout the ages, Marguerite and her bridesmaid organized the bulk of the ceremony's provisions, Samuel essentially required to simply show up at the appointed time.
Mrs. Langton and Mrs. Reynolds hosted a reception in the staff quarters with feasting and merriment. The Master and Mistress extended their heartfelt congratulations to the blushing groom and radiant bride, departing to the Manor and allowing the couple to celebrate at leisure with their friends. The Olivers would spend their wedding
