The street crawled with humanity; beggars and sharpers crowded the entrance to the tall tenements. Used to the well-fed residents, the thin laborers reminded her of an army of gray ghosts. Thunder rumbled overhead as she trudged into the press of people, and a raindrop soon plopped down on her head, then another, and another, bringing with them the sweet scent of rain.

  A rough-looking fellow with gin on his breath grunted and pushed her aside. "Watch where yer goin', girl. Are ye blind?"

  Angry, she watched the man stride away. Then she told herself she had chosen to come to Cheapside, and in doing so had traded away all those fine good manners she had once scoffed at, but now took as a matter of course.

  The handle of the heavy satchel cutting into her hand, she walked ahead. In the low gray weather, the alley looked almost unbearably lonely.

  Rain peppered down faster and plastered her hair to her scalp as she neared Gardiner House. Half its slate roof gone, the building's roof soared toward the smooth gray sky. In the yard that had been packed hard by hundreds of shuffling feet, a few weeds bravely struggled upward. An old woman sat on the stoop looking like a heavy sack of flour with a string tied in the middle. Lost to the world, she brought a bottle of gin to her lips.

  Struggling with her cumbersome satchel, Elizabeth entered the building's dark stairwell, knowing that Aunt Gardiner wouldn't be home yet. She closed the door behind her, placed the satchel on the floor, and plopped down into a threadbare chair. Her heart still thudding from the long walk and the climb up the stairs, she sat there for a while, listening to rain pour down the loose guttering. When a drop splashed on her skirt, Elizabeth looked up at the patched ceiling. Rain and smoke from the defective chimney stained the peeling mass. Lord, she had hardly noticed it when last visited here with Jane, she thought with a sigh.

  Despair tugging at her heart, she laid back her head and felt a tear seep from the comer of her eye. Angrily nibbing it away, she told herself she couldn't be breaking down, for she had to put on a brave front for the Gardiners as well as herself. Trying to lift her spirits, she counted her assets: she was young and had her health, and as soon as she was rested and stronger she would consider what to do with the rest of her life. Right now, she just needed a chance to heal.

  Hearing brisk footsteps on the stairwell. Elizabeth raised her head and stood. She smoothed down her damp, wrinkled shirtwaist dress, realizing that her aunt had decided to come home after lunch. The door flew open and Mrs. Gardiner burst into the room. Seeing Elizabeth, she dropped the basket of fruit she held in her hand, sending apples and peaches rolling over the floor. "Lizzy," she murmured in a hushed tone. "Bless my liver! What in the name of God are you doing here?"

  Elizabeth moved toward her aunt. "I've left Mr. Darcy," she said in a quiet voice, "and I didn't know where to go. Can I stay here for a while?"

  Mrs. Gardiner stood frozen at the door for a moment, then, slamming it behind her, rushed to Elizabeth, and started wiping moisture from the younger woman's face and hair with the end of her long white apron. "My poor little bird," she muttered, leading her to the table and plopping her down on a rickety chair. "Here, you just sit down and tell me all bout it, love." Mrs. Gardiner ceased blotting Elizabeth's face for a moment, then, a look of relief flooded Mrs. Gardiner's plain face, then, brightening up, she hurried to the small blackened fireplace and stacked up a small pile of kindling. "Since it's turned autumn, it's gone chilly and wet on us, hasn't it? Why don't we just have a nice cup of tea and talk about what is troubling you?" she suggested as she found a match and lit the kindling, setting it ablaze.

  "I know you and Mr. Darcy were married," she went on. “Your mother wrote to me.”

  Elizabeth felt tears gather in the back of her throat and she held out her hand to Mrs. Gardiner.

  The older woman took it and sat down beside her. "Now what is this silliness about you leaving your husband?" She ran her eyes over Elizabeth. "I can't believe it. You can't leave him. You just can't."

  Elizabeth gazed at the wavering glow the fire cast over the wretched chamber. "It's over," she said dully, slipping away her hand.

  Mrs. Gardiner frowned and raised her chin. "'How do you know it's over? Has he told you so?"

  Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat. "No...but I know it is," she answered, her tremulous voice breaking with emotion.

  Mrs. Gardiner stood and began pacing about the table, her eyes flashing. "He loves you, Lizzy. A blind man could see it!"

  "Loved might be a better word," Elizabeth suggested, her tone hardening with frustration. "And I'm not sure if even that is right. There is a possibility that he loved me before the scandal," she said sadly, remembering their heartrending discussion last night.

  Mrs. Gardiner shot her an incredulous look. "Scandal? What are you talking about?"

  Elizabeth stared at the woman's confused face, then pulled a copy of the gossip magazine from her satchel. "Caroline Bingley gave this to me at the opera yesterday evening...and Darcy has seen it, too. I'm sure all of London is laughing about the cartoon," she explained, opening the magazine.

  Her eyes glittering, Mrs. Gardiner took the magazine herself and read the caption under the cartoon, her lips moving silently. With a burst of anger, she threw it on the floor. "There ought to be a law against printing such trash!" she ground out. Her face softened and she took her friend's hand again. "Don't worry, Lizzy. We stand by you."

  Elizabeth's shoulders slumped and she pressed her lips together. "I'm not sure if he will or not, and I don't want to hold my breath every day, wondering if I'll humiliate him." She drew in a long ragged breath. "I just can't stand the tension of facing society anymore. I'd be afraid that every time Darcy looked at me, he'd see the woman who made him an outcast."

  The kettle hissed and spouted white steam, prompting Mrs. Gardiner to pour tea for them. After placing a pot, two cups, sugar, and silverware on a battered tray, she brought it to the table and sat down again, waiting a moment for the brew to steep. Her eyes moist with emotion, she put out her hand and caressed Elizabeth's arm. "I think you've made a great mistake, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy is mad in love with you."

  Elizabeth wanted to accept Mrs. Gardiner's judgment, but just couldn't. "I made a mistake when I married him," she said, shaking her head, “I was so blinded by my feelings for him that I let him talk me into the marriage, but I shouldn't have. Even then I knew it was wrong."

  "Wrong? How could it be wrong when he loved you and asked you to marry him?"

  "The marriage was inappropriate, as he would say. There's just too much difference between us."

  Mrs. Gardiner poured the tea, spooned some sugar into her cup, and stirred it. "'He took a great risk in marrying you, all right...but he did. That just proves that he loves you!"

  Tears welled in Elizabeth's eyes. "That's just it, Aunt. You don't really know Mr. Darcy. He always does his duty...it's like a religion to him." She swallowed back her emotions, wondering if she should continue. "You see," she said, looking down in embarrassment, "he took my virginity, so he felt he had to offer me marriage." She looked at her aunt, blinking back her tears. "A few days ago, I found a pile of old bills, and discovered that his father left him nearly bankrupt. Now I think he may regret our marriage."

  Surprise flashed on Mrs. Gardiner's face and for a moment she sat quietly, looking as if she were searching for comforting words. "I says you're wrong on both counts," she said lightly. "I says he married you because he loves you. And he'll come after you, too. I'm sure of it!"

  Elizabeth finished her tea, then rose and walked to the rain-splattered window. Outside the sky had clouded to a dark gray, and cool air flowed through a crack where the pane was broken, washing over her. "I'm not sure he will," she finally said, her voice tight with defeat. She looked back over her shoulder. "Because of me and the scandal I've created, Darcy stands in jeopardy of losing his reputation too. He'd be better off without me."

  "Gaa, if you leave Mr. Darcy, what will you do with the rest of your life?" Mrs. Gardiner blurted out.

  Elizabeth's eyelids fluttered and she rubbed her temples. "I really don't know right now. After I rest a bit, I'll think of something." She opened her eyes and looked at her aunt with conviction. "I do know I want to be more than a socialite. I'd like to make my life count for something.”

  Would Darcy come for her as Mrs. Gardiner had suggested? Could he possibly love her? If he did, how could they overcome the seemingly impossible barrier between them? The tears that she had been holding back for so long stung her eyes. Standing at the window, Elizabeth stared at the misty street, fighting back her turbulent emotions.

  Sadder—but much wiser—Elizabeth was going home.

  The next morning Elizabeth placed a jack of spades on the table, then, after studying the rows of cards, heaved a sigh and threw down the rest of the deck. She had been playing solitaire by herself since Mrs. Gardiner left several hours ago and she was thoroughly tired of it. Feeling low and dispirited, she rose and walked to the window, staring at Gracechurch Street.

  Morning light washed over the dingy thoroughfare, which was filled with laborers dressed in shabby clothes and frayed caps. Most of them belonged to the working class and were employed to clean carriages, carry advertising signs, or do other menial tasks. Women in dark gowns and tattered aprons leaned against doorways; tots clung to their skirts, sucking their fingers.

  Deep in her heart, she knew she couldn't continue to live here, for she no longer belonged. She was an outsider now. As for Darcy, his face haunted her constantly.

  She had sat quietly and read a book, or played solitaire, or looked from the window, or lay on the bed with her eyes open, staring at the wall—but she couldn't stop thinking of him. What had he done when he realized she wasn't coming home last night? What was he doing at this moment? What was he thinking? And what had he meant when he said that no matter what their rank, everyone must find their own purpose in life?

  Just then. Elizabeth heard brisk footsteps on the stairs, and as they became louder, she turned about. A few seconds later, her aunt entered the room. Mrs. Gardiner moved back a bit, and, clearing Elizabeth's view, darted a worried glance at the doorway.

  “He just arrived,” she whispered roughly.

  Following her gaze. Elizabeth looked at the door and her breath caught in her throat, for Darcy loomed before the dim light in the hall, his handsome face illuminated by the fire's glow.

  Chapter Eight

  MRS. GARDINER AWKWARDLY cleared her throat. "I think," she said, putting on her shawl and hat, "that I'll be going to the market now. I suspects you two won't be needing the likes of me hanging around."

  Elizabeth glanced at her and nodded. Mrs. Gardiner put her hand on the doorknob and winked broadly. "I told you he would come after you, did I not?"

  After the door slammed, Darcy walked to Elizabeth and took her in his arms. The power and barely controlled passion seething within his large body made her heart nearly stop. "What in God's name possessed you to run away?" he asked in a rough voice. "I've been out of my mind with worry, and Georgiana is upset. Even Jones won't eat." He pulled her against him, and she could smell his bay rum cologne and the beat of his thudding heart under his fine jacket.

  A nervous pulse racing at the base of her throat, she dared a glance at his tense face. "My aunt took good care of me," she said softly.

  He blew out his breath in pent-up frustration. "How in the devil was I supposed to know you were well cared for? You didn't even leave a note, just disappeared, like some Gypsy in the night."

  She moistened her lips and swallowed the lump in her throat. "After I saw that horrible cartoon in the I felt that I had ruined your life—that it would be best if I just disappeared." Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked downward.

  He lifted her chin and gazed at her with blazing eyes. "Good God," he muttered hoarsely. "Is that piece of despicable journalism what made you run away? I never imagined you would be so influenced by it."

  "When we talked on the night of the opera, you seemed so angry."

  A muscle flicking in his hard jaw, he heaved a great sigh and glanced at the little fire in the Gardiners' hearth. "I was angry," he admitted. Then he looked back at her, his eyes smoldering with emotion. "Angry at society for being so shallow, so cynical, so uncaring."

  "You're not embarrassed over the cartoon?" she ventured quietly.

  "No, I'm not embarrassed—I'm furious. Furious at the publisher and the insensitivity that prompted the cartoon to be printed in the first place."

  Relief spread through her. He came for me, she thought joyously. He came for me, just like Mrs. Gardiner said he would! The realization left her stunned and a bit light-headed. "How did you know where I would be?" she asked, her heart beating a little faster as she studied his face.

  He held her lightly in his arms. "For God's sake, where else would you go? I would have been here last night, but Georgiana convinced me to wait. She said you needed a little time on your own to sort things through. She said she'd make Jones tie me down if I didn't agree to give it to you."

  Elizabeth laughed at the thought, then pushed back from him a bit, making an impulsive decision to tell him what was in her heart. Walking to the window, she crossed her arms, and gazed at the glimmering gaslights haloed in mist.

  She looked at him and smiled, but concern about the magazine still lingered in her mind. "But how can our lives be the same with that horrible magazine circulating all over London?"

  "Actually, the things in the magazine have worked against Caroline. The night I went to the Carlton everyone was talking about it. Manipulating public opinion can be quite tricky, and if Caroline is expecting all of it to be on her side, she's mistaken."

  Elizabeth stared at him silently for a moment, thinking about how things often turn out very differently than expected. Then, trembling with relief and happiness, she walked back to him and took his outstretched hand.

  "When I came home late last night and found that you had not returned when expected, and a satchel was missing," Darcy went on in a strained voice, "I could scarcely believe it." His voice quickened with exasperation. "You might have been assaulted or even kidnapped." He sighed. "What was going on in your crazy little head?"

  His tone told her that he was still frustrated, but there was also concern in his voice, and she was wise enough to know that he truly cared for her. She studied his features in the wavering firelight, and noticed the deep worry lines etched into his face. "I don't understand everything myself," she said with a long shuddering sigh. She looked down again, nervously twisting the end of her shawl in her hand. "I suppose I thought you regretted your decision to marry me," she said at last, her voice trailing off.

  "Why would you think such a thing?" he asked in an incredulous tone.

  Her heart hammering, she looked up into his demanding eyes. "Don't you remember what you said during my stay at Netherfield Park? You told me that your good opinion, once lost, is lost forever," she reminded him in a quavering voice.

  A faint smile played over his lips. "I will not deny that since I've known you there have been days when I've wanted to throttle you. But even from the beginning when we were at odds everyday, I wanted you. At first, I thought of my promise to my family to fulfill a duty to marry well, but in the end I couldn't deny my feelings."

  When she did not respond, he said, "I always knew I cared for you, but while you were gone, I realized that I valued you more than anything else in the world!" He brushed back a lock of her straying hair. "You know, you're not the only one who has changed in these last six months. Before, I was a man who never thought he could love, and now..." His voice trailed off as he touched his lips to her forehead.

  They were talking, really talking now, and she couldn't resist further unburdening her heart. "I was so angry when I unlocked the library and discovered the mountain of bills on your desk," she whispered. "I made poor Georgiana tell me about your real financial condition." For a moment, her gaze misted with tears.

  Sadness gathered in Darcy's eyes. "Yes, it's true," he confessed tightly. "I was near bankruptcy, and when we were at Pemberley I swore Mr. Abbott and Mrs. Reynolds to secrecy. Perhaps it was wrong of me to keep it from you, but I didn't want to burden you with the problem. And I hoped a solution was imminent, so there would be no need to tell you.” A dark look crossed his face. His brows rose in sad amusement. "In my attempt to protect you from my problems, I hurt you terribly."

  He sighed, then looked at her, his eyes full of deep meaning. He put his arms around her. "That's especially painful to me now, because I know that I love you. I've always been in control of things, but now I have something that I can't control at all—and that's my heart. Perhaps I did seal off my feelings for a while to prevent further hurt, but I'd never been involved with anyone like you before. Your smile, your touch, your innocence, all melted my resistance. You have been bewitched me, body and soul. And I love you very much."

  As she relaxed in the warmth of his arms and laid her head against him, her heart stirred with excitement. He loves me, really loves me, she finally realized, the very thought sending shivers of happiness through her whole being. It would have been so easy for him to have divorced her after the scandal broke, but he had come to this hovel to find her and take her home.

  With a rush of euphoria, she looked at him and smiled. "I may never be a lady, a real lady, you know. I may always get my hems dirty and laugh to loudly.”

  "Be careful now," he said with a chuckle, "you're talking about the woman I love." He brushed his long fingers over her cheek and his eyes softened with tenderness. "Do you think I care a damn about those things? I don't love Elizabeth the lady. I love Elizabeth the woman...and what a woman you are. I'll vow there's a fire in you that nothing can put out!" He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

 

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