Darcy and Deception

Leaning toward her, he clasped one of her hands in both of his. When had he come so near her on the bed? “‘Concerned’ does not adequately describe my disposition. I have been frantic with anxiety.”

She could not help being touched by his devotion. “I did declare that I have no intention of eloping to Gretna Green with the scoundrel.”

His warm hands squeezed her fingers. “If only that were my sole concern! But, Elizabeth, a man has been killed—perhaps by Wickham himself. And today Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived; the Home Office believes a French spy by the name of Archibald Harrison will contact Wickham about passage across the Channel. This is a very dangerous situation.”

Elizabeth sobered. Here was grave news indeed, but it only reinforced the importance of her efforts. “I assure you that I will assume no untoward risks, and I am under Colonel Forster’s protection.”

Mr. Darcy scoffed. “He cannot watch over you every hour of the day.”

“I assu

re you that I am exerting every possible caution.”

“It is not sufficient! I have a carriage in Brighton. I beg you, allow me to send you home to Longbourn.”

She withdrew her hand from his grasp. “No.”

“I could not bear to lose you.” His voice was rough with emotion.

The anguish in his voice gave her pause, but Elizabeth reminded herself that many in the war took far greater risks than she did. “No doubt many a soldier’s wife has expressed such sentiments.”

He frowned. “How is that relevant?”

Elizabeth pushed strands of hair from her eyes and continued in a softer voice. “I-I cannot fight as a soldier; this is the only way I may oppose the threat Napoleon represents to my country.”

“B-But women do not fight in wars!” Her eyes must have been blazing, for Mr. Darcy immediately averted his gaze. After a long pause, he swallowed. “But I can see that such an argument will not dissuade you.”

“Wise man.” Her words were clipped with anger.

He said nothing for a full minute. “You believe in your purpose very strongly.”

“I do.”

Finally, his posture collapsed. “I am not pleased that you are stationed at the front lines, but I suppose that is not my decision to make.”

“No.” She softened her tone. “You are not responsible for me. If I am hurt, the fault is not yours.”

He shook his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I do not feel responsible.”

“No?” Elizabeth took a minute to consider. His repeated intrusions had provoked such irritation that she had not devoted much thought to his motivations.

“No.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “My feelings toward you are unchanged. I still love and admire you. Were something to happen to you, I would be…quite…bereft.”

Elizabeth could not breathe. Somewhere in the back of her mind she must have guessed he was still in love with her, but her devotion to her mission made it easy to ignore. Or perhaps she had deliberately avoided any thoughts on the subject.

Her countenance must have registered her shock. Mr. Darcy edged closer to her on the bed. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to learn you are not enthralled with Wickham.” His voice was low and soft.

She gave him a shaky smile. “You must have thought me the worst sort of simpleton to befriend the man after reading your letter.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Worse. I thought I had lost any chance with you.”

Again, the breath caught in her throat. “You wanted another chance with me?”

He chuckled softly. “I traveled to Longbourn for the purpose of offering an apology and requesting a chance to court you properly.”

And instead he had learned I was intimately connected with Mr. Wickham. Oh. Her heart ached to think of the pain she had caused him.

“Is it too late for another chance?” Somehow he was now so close that his face was mere inches from hers.