The next morning Elizabeth straightened the library’s chairs and smiled to herself as she hummed Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you. Yes, she was in love all right—with Fitzwilliam Darcy, of all people!
She picked up an old newspaper and tossed it onto a stack of rubbish on the library table.
Darcy strode in and pulled to a stop. “What are you doing?”
“Tidying the library.” She ignored his solemn tone and set two chess pieces on the board.
Darcy puffed an exasperated breath and moved beside her. “If we’re going to apply for your passport and then go shopping this afternoon, we must be going.”
“I only need a few more minutes. I can’t leave the monsieur’s library in such a state.” She stacked the gramophone records and turned to him. “I’m ashamed I’ve allowed it to remain like this for two days.”
“Elizab—”
She placed her hands on his chest and smiled up at him with her most convincing smile. “It will only take a few minutes.”
He relaxed with a chuckle. “Has anyone ever told you that you are obnoxiously stubborn?”
“Not to my face.” She stood inches from him.
“Well you are—sometimes.”
She arched a brow. “Perhaps it takes one to know one.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “All right. Let me help you. Ten minutes.”
He rolled up her pallet, then began straightening the bed sheets.
“My, my.” She giggled, gathering her knitting. “What would Mrs. Reynolds think of Master Darcy making a bed?”
“That I am a hard-working master who wisely hires house maids to—. What’s this?” He reached behind the bed. “It’s your medal.” He held up the bronze cross.
“Ha. It must have fallen off while I was changing the sheets.” She turned and reached for a book.
“Don’t you want it?”
“Not particularly.” She turned back, cradling the novel. “I told you I always felt guilty wearing it, and frankly I’d prefer to forget that day.”
“Do you mind?” He hovered the medallion over his pocket.
“Not at all. You deserved it more than I did anyway.” She slid the book onto the shelf. “Thank you for helping. The library looks presentable now.” She smiled at him. “Would you mind carting those things to the incinerator?”
“Only for you.” Darcy gathered the papers and moved towards the door. “You can leave your books on the desk,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll have them shipped home with my things later.”
Home. Elizabeth stilled her hands on the monsieur’s chair and watched Darcy disappear through the door. Would Pemberley be her home one day? She closed her eyes and pictured herself in Darcy’s arms at his beloved estate, the steady firmness of his chest beneath her head. Her heart swelled. It wasn’t just a dream. Darcy really cared for her. He’d asked to court her!
She smoothed the worn leather under her hands. Beaumanoir. She’d spent the last year here. A happy year. She blinked back tears. It would be hard to leave.
She gathered up her books and made for the annexe. She wouldn’t be melancholy. Yesterday with Fitzwilliam was the most glorious day of her life, and today held the same promise.
She stacked her books on the desk then set her carpetbag beside it. Pushing her hand to the bottom to hold it open, she flinched as something pricked her finger. She peered inside and spotted a small hole in the folds of the red lining. Probing further she sucked in a breath of excitement. “Ah! I can’t believe it!”
“What?” Darcy appeared at the door.
“I found it! The bracelet that matches my cross necklace.” She held up the string of red garnets. “The last time I wore this was at your Aunt Catherine’s at Easter. I thought I’d lost it in the grove at Rosings. It’s not the finest piece of jewellery, but it was a gift from my father, so it is valuable to me.”
“I’m glad you found it then. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” She clasped the bracelet around her wrist.
“I’ll fetch our lunch and meet you on the veranda.”
She shoved her meagre possessions into the carpetbag and arranged her hair before the mirror as best she could with her few hairpins. She blew a curl from her forehead and sighed. It probably didn’t matter. After an extended ride on the motorcycle to Boulogne, her hair would be a fright and her uniform wrinkled.
The veranda door banged shut, and Elizabeth raised her gaze out the bank of windows. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Her heart swelled. She’d spent many memorable hours in the library with the dear little Frenchman and his dog, but her future with the handsome man on the veranda held a promise of even better things to come.
Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm as they bustled among the wagons and khaki-clad soldiers crowding the streets of Boulogne. Fitzwilliam was acting overly protective and cautious, but after what had happened at the railway station during her last visit here, she wouldn’t complain.
He placed his hand over her fingers. “There’s a charming cafe down on the wharf. I thought we might have dinner there tonight.”
“That sounds lovely. I must admit that at the moment I’m rather anxious to complete this passport business and trade my uniform for civilian clothes. Are we almost there?”
He paused to check the address given to them at the hotel. Two Sisters in their scarlet capes passed and cast her a look of disgust. Darcy placed a sympathetic hand in the small of her back. She raised her chin and pushed on a hairpin in an attempt to secure her sagging hair. Everyone knew it was against the rules for VADs to be out with officers, but in this instance, it couldn’t be helped.
“The building should be just down the street.” He urged her on, but stopped short.
“Well if it isn’t Eliza Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
Elizabeth stiffened. Charles’ sister Caroline stood with her hand on Darcy’s free arm.
“Hello, Miss Bingley.” Darcy tipped his hat and stepped forward to move on, but the chit held fast to his forearm.
“What brings you two to Boulogne?” Caroline’s eyes roved over Elizabeth.
“Fitzwilliam and I came from The Ritz this morning.” She leaned closer to Darcy. “I leave for Pemberley tomorrow.”
“You came together this morning? I thought the Ritz evacuated two days—? Oh, how silly of me.” She puffed a laugh and tsked her tongue. “My, my. What would Georgiana say knowing her brother spent the night alone at a chateau with a lady?”
Elizabeth raised to her full height. “She would think he was doing something kind for a woman who fell down the side of a bluff, were she to know the truth.”
“I’m not so sure London society would see it—”
“I don’t see why London society should ever hear of it.” Darcy bored into her with his gaze.
She released Darcy’s arm and shifted her focus to Elizabeth. “Well, at least take more care with your appearance, Eliza. I wouldn’t want you to be reported.” Pressing a smug smile, Caroline flounced away.
“What nerve!” Elizabeth seethed. “I could kick myself for being so careless in my speech—with her of all people.”
“Let’s not allow her to taint our time together.” He urged her on. “She’s only trying to gain the upper hand by making trouble.”
A moment later Darcy ushered her through the crowded hallway of the government building. Her eyes scanned the corridor. Did Lieutenant Wickham work in one of these offices? With what she now knew of him, she preferred he remained behind closed doors.
Darcy turned a doorknob, and they stepped into a large room with a little man sitting behind a high counter. Several people queued in line waiting their turn. She leaned over to Darcy. “It looks like this will take a few minutes. Did you want to send that telegram to Mrs. Reynolds?”
Darcy hesitated and glanced around. “Stay here until I return.”
“All right.” She leaned closer and teased, “As long as I get hairpins in the end.”
Fitzwilliam strode out the door. Why was he so tense?
She completed the forms, then took her place in the queue. She smoothed her wrinkled uniform and sighed, eager for new clothes. Would shopping with Fitzwilliam be awkward? His wealth afforded him the finest of everything. She hadn’t been paid for the last month, and most of her previous wages had gone for the care of her mother. Her few remaining francs wouldn’t afford much of a wardrobe, but she would be at Pemberley! And in two months Fitzwilliam would join her.
What would it be like to have days on end with him? —and his sister, of course. But what a joy it would be to see him as master of Pemberley on the land he so dearly loved. Would he propose? Her heart leapt at the thought. But two months stretched before them first.
With the CCS now at the convent, would he be sent back into the trenches or serve far behind the lines of danger? Now that she loved him, she couldn’t bear to lose him.
She closed her eyes. She would only focus on the present. One step at a time. Two months and then ten glorious days with him.
Finally she stepped up to the tall counter.
“Hello, I’m Elizabeth Bennet. I’d like to apply for a passport.”
“Oh, yes, Miss Bennett. On your way to Liverpool. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.” He reached for her forms.
Expecting her tomorrow, and going to Liverpool? What did he mean by that? She glanced over her shoulder at the queue behind her. She wouldn’t prolong the encounter and ask.
He looked over the papers, then rubber-stamped them with a thud. “We’ll have your passport ready by three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
Darcy pulled his money clip from his pocket and counted out a stack of francs to the boutique’s young clerk. It was not a trifling sum, but neither did it approach what he wished to lavish on her. “You will send the trunk to the hotel?”
“Oui, Monsieur. Hotel du Louvre.”
“Merci.” He dropped the change into his pocket, then turned to Elizabeth and smiled. “You look beautiful.”
Elizabeth struck an exaggerated pose in the stylish pink gabardine suit with straight skirt and thigh length jacket. “I hardly know myself in the mirror. I haven’t worn anything except a blue VAD uniform and apron in over a year. And I love the hat.” She touched the brimless white accessory studded with tiny pearls.
The shop’s bell tinkled as Darcy opened the door and followed Elizabeth into the afternoon sun.
She turned to him. “I can’t thank you enough for all the lovely things.”
“I’d have bought you a dozen more dresses if you’d have allowed it.” He fell in step beside her on the cobbled street.
“As it is you had to purchase a trunk to ship it all in. I had no intention of buying a winter coat and boots.”
“It will soon be cold, and you will need them. What good is wealth if I cannot enjoy it?”
“Is this how you enjoy it?” she teased.
“Elizabeth, seeing you happy is immensely gratifying.” Darcy offered her his arm. “Let’s see if the mackerel at the wharf is as good as I recall.”
“And then a stroll along the waterfront?”
“Of course.” Nothing would please him more. Well, nothing that was permissible at present.
“...then that night, we were out in No-Man’s land repairing telephone lines.” Darcy chuckled as they neared the Hotel du Louvre. “Fritz sent over a few whizzbangs, and we started off running in the dark. I—,” he laughed harder, “I tripped and fell,” he paused to catch his breath, “over a dead...COW!” he choked out. “Right into the mud.”
Elizabeth’s vivacious laughter joined his, ringing into the night as they approached the hotel arm in arm. He wiped his eyes as a stern nurse Matron exiting the building shot them a chastising glance. Elizabeth nudged him in the ribs, reducing their guffaws to choking sniggers.
They stepped into the lobby, masquerading behind dignified faces, then wound up the hotel’s grand staircase with their shared mirth a secret between them. What a joy she would be at Pemberley! There they could laugh all they liked as if they were the only two people in the world.
At Elizabeth’s door, he released a relaxed breath and smiled at her. “It’s been a lovely evening.”
She laid a hand on his chest and looked at him, her fine eyes sparkling with affection. “And a wonderful day. Thank you. I’ll treasure the memory for a long time.”
He moved to enfold her in his arms, but two passing officers cast him a knowing glance and smirked.
He sighed. “I’d better say goodnight.” He grasped her shoulder and kissed her cheek.
“Goodnight, Fitzwilliam.”
Minutes later Darcy dropped into the chair in his room and smiled. He and Richard may not have fully solved the conspiracy plot, but through all the chaos, he'd won Elizabeth's heart. He shook his head in wonder. What he would do to be in his study at Pemberley with a snifter of brandy to mull over the events of the past few days.
Without a second thought, he pushed from the chair and headed out of the door.
He approached the hotel’s bar and ordered the drink, basking in the glow of the day.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Pemberley’s master, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
Darcy’s euphoria vanished and the hair on his neck prickled at the familiar voice. He turned to his nemesis standing glassy-eyed with three others a few feet away.
George Wickham stepped closer. “I hear you managed to win the affections of Hertfordshire’s jewel after all—even without the aid of a certain letter.” He patted his breast pocket. “Oh, and I’m so sorry to hear of her misfortune.” He released a vicious laugh. “I couldn’t have orchestrated your demise any better had I planned it myself.”
“You bastard!” Darcy lunged at him but was pulled back by Wickham’s cohorts.
“I see you are as charming and personable as ever.” He wagged a lazy finger in Darcy’s direction. “You never know what can happen at the Front.”
Rage surged through Darcy and he launched his fist, but the henchmen gripped his arms, keeping him at bay.
Wickham fixed an evil grin. “Go ahead. Strike me. In a few weeks my revenge will be complete when your dear countrymen turn on you like a pack of rabid dogs.”
One of the thugs whispered something in Wickham’s ear and led him away.
As his foe shuffled out of the door between his cronies, Darcy clenched his teeth, seething. So, it was Wickham who’d intercepted the letter he’d sent to Elizabeth after his disastrous proposal at Hunsford. What was that snake up to now? And what misfortune of Elizabeth’s was he referring to? Wickham implied her misfortune had something to do with Darcy’s demise. It didn’t make sense.
Darcy dropped three coins onto the bar and took a swig of brandy, welcoming the burn as it slid down his throat. ...never know what can happen at the Front. Was that a threat? Obviously the miscreant had no idea that Richard needed only a few more pieces of the puzzle to bring down the blackguard and his lowlife ring of traitors.
Darcy swirled the amber liquid in the glass. Wickham was out for blood, but Darcy would be prepared. He stared ahead, his full attention engaged in planning. Extra security for Elizabeth and Georgiana was at the top of his list. How could he warn Elizabeth without betraying Richard’s order? If only he could travel with her! Two months! Just two months and then he would join her for ten glorious days. Hopefully by then Wickham would have met his due. Darcy tossed off the drink, then strode towards the stairs.
Several hours later Darcy sat back with a relieved sigh and eyed the three addressed envelopes on his desk. The hours of focused attention that produced letters to his steward, solicitor, and Elizabeth were essential to protect the women he loved.
He flexed his cramped fingers. I’m so sorry to hear of her misfortune.... I couldn’t have orchestrated your demise any better had I planned it myself.... Never know what can happen at the Front. Darcy narrowed his gaze. What did the scoundrel’s words mean?