Page 46 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

The quill stopped, but as her face was lowered toward her letter, he could not discern her expression. When she did look at him, her countenance was impassive. “And why such a desire to know?”

He met her gaze for but a moment before looking away, but she saw it all despite his not having said a word.

“You fancy her!”

Damnation. How was it she possessed such perception? He recalled a time, albeit of short duration, when he fancied he had been a little in love with Abigail because of her cleverness.

Putting down her pen, she scrutinized him with the purpose of appraising the depths of his affection. “Indeed. I have never seen you this shaken. Are you in love with this Elizabeth Bennet?”

“Do you deny you know her?” he asked, almost hopeful.

“I know of her. She is one of two guests staying with Mr. Collins. But as to the name of your pupil, I will, of course, deny everything.”

He tempered his aggravation. He abhorred deceit, but he understood she acted out of discretion and respect for the lives and reputations of her students and teachers.

“But I have every wish to ease your distress,” she continued, rising to her feet and approaching him. “If this young woman reminds you of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and you are not up to task, I can appoint another to continue her lessons.”

“No! I meant…”

Darcy knew not which was worse—the knowledge that he had possibly debauched Miss Elizabeth or the thought of another man touching her.

“You are looking worse, Fitzwilliam.” She went to the sideboard and poured him a glass of Madeira. “The pupil you met with the other night wishes to pursue another lesson, and I need to know if you are prepared to give it.”

He put a hand to his brow.

“But perhaps it is wisest to relieve you of your position regardless,” she contemplated aloud as she handed him the drink.

He surprised her by downing it in one gulp. He took a deep but harried breath. “I am up to the task.”

The thought of another man taking his place would drive him mad if the young woman was indeed Miss Elizabeth.

Abby appeared unconvinced. “You must put it out of your head that your pupil reminds you of Miss Elizabeth. I am putting a great deal of faith and trust in you if I allow you to continue.”

He nodded. “I have no wish to disappoint you.”

She sat down beside him. For several minutes they sat in silence, each in their own thoughts.

“It has been many years since a woman has caught your eye,” she commented. “Miss Elizabeth must be an exceptional young lady.”

“Love looks not kindly upon me. Twice I have been afflicted and twice with women wholly unsuitable for me.”

“The blush of first love is often reckless. You were young when you took a fancy to Delana. I no longer call her a friend after her treatment of you.”

“I harbor no resentment toward her. What woman of sophistication and breeding would entertain with seriousness the affections of a callow suitor?”

“I prefer to talk of this Miss Elizabeth.”

“And I would not,” he replied as he stood.

“You will not satisfy my curiosity?”

He was tempted, for he had confided his feelings for Miss Elizabeth to no one. “Perhaps another time. I am reminded of my duty and will endeavour my best.”

“I am confident in your abilities, but I warn all my students—and instructors bear reminding as well—to guard against affection.”

The concern in her eyes was evident, and he admitted his own confidence to waver, but prolonging his stay would not produce the results he sought. Preparing to take his leave, he bowed. Though his agitation had not dissipated, he found some calm in the clarity of his newfound goal: to determine for himself if the young woman of the Red Chamber was Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

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