by Elaine Owen
“I don’t suppose there is another room available in this establishment for accommodations this evening, do you think?” he addressed Cora, who shook her head.
“No, sir. I heard the innkeeper saying in the kitchen how he was all filled tonight. Even in the commons there’ll be precious little room to sit up. There’s a fair in town tomorrow, you see.”
“Then all the rooms in the town are likely to be taken as well.” He frowned, looking at Elizabeth. “I do not like to leave you alone.”
“You may leave the bed for now, Cora,” Elizabeth directed. “If you would be so good as to take our dinner things downstairs and then return, we will let you know what our plans are for the night.”
Cora curtsied and left, her arms filled as she pulled the door shut behind her. Darcy looked at Elizabeth gravely. “Where do you want to go tomorrow, Elizabeth?”
“To go?” she repeated, not understanding the question.
“Would you prefer to go on to Meryton, or would you be willing to return to Pemberley?”
“I thought you had come to take me back to Pemberley with you.”
“I came to be with you, wherever you are,” he replied. “If you still feel that you are needed at Longbourn, I will be pleased to accompany you. But if it is possible, I would prefer to go back to Pemberley. It will be easier for me to work with my solicitors from a distance from there.”
Elizabeth frowned, hesitating. “I would like to support Jane, if possible. She has asked for my presence.”
“She has Bingley to help her, and she does not need you in the same way that I do.” His smile was humble but hopeful.
“But if you know that Mr. Bingley has gone back to Netherfield, you must also know that Jane had to send him away after Lydia disappeared.”
“It appears that I have more current information than you do in that regard. Bingley has learned from his mistake last winter, when he let others tell him what to do. He was planning to go back to your sister and speak to her again, and he said that this time he would let nothing dissuade him. By now, I am sure, he has persuaded your sister never to send him away again.”
“I suppose I have you to thank for this remarkable change in your friend.”
“We can talk about that tomorrow, on our way to wherever you decide.” He took quick steps across the room and enfolded her in his arms again, pulling her close to him. “Where do you want to go?”
“If you are sure that Jane is in good hands, I will return to Pemberley with you.” She shyly placed her hands on his shoulders as he looked down at her. “But there are still many things we need to talk about. My sister, your aunt—and other things.”
“Later,” he murmured as he began to return her tentative gesture with breathtaking kisses, his arms tightening around her waist. “Later.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It was early the next morning when Elizabeth first heard her husband’s light knock on the bedroom door at the inn. The sound of his footsteps in the hall had penetrated her awareness first; and then, after Cora answered his rapping, she heard him asking if Mrs. Darcy was awake yet, and how soon she thought they would be down for breakfast.
They had not shared the small room the night before, though Darcy had clearly wanted to remain; the conditions at the inn would not allow it. Elizabeth was not sure whether to be sorry or grateful for the impediment. Not that she did not feel any affection or desire for her husband, now that they had a better understanding of each other—far from it. She thrilled to his presence, now, in a way that she had never done before in their marriage. But until all matters were set right between them she would not feel honest sharing herself with him again. To yield such intimacies to him in the marriage bed and yet not share recollections she knew would hurt him would feel almost like another betrayal.
That conversation would have to come soon. Elizabeth blushed to remember how Cora had interrupted them again last night, just when her husband’s passion had begun to make her forget her surroundings. Cora had to knock on the door several times before she and Darcy disengaged, and when she finally opened the door, there was no disguising her dishevelment, nor the fact that her hair was completely let down so that Darcy’s hands could run through it. Elizabeth and Darcy were both breathless, and without a doubt Cora had at least some suspicion of what had been transpiring during her absence from the room. As a well-trained servant, of course, she had kept her thoughts to herself.
Now it was the next morning. They would return to Pemberley today to face, together, the yet-unresolved problems of both Lady Catherine and Lydia. To get there, Elizabeth and Darcy would share the carriage, his horse tied behind the vehicle, with Cora and the driver sitting outside. With no one to overhear and few opportunities for interruption, there would be no avoiding the painful conversation she knew had to come.
They met at the breakfast table in the common area of the inn, and Elizabeth blushed when she saw his eyes fixed on her as she advanced into the room. This morning he was more reticent than he had been the night before. He gave her his arm to escort her to her chair, but beyond a somewhat reserved smile, pulling out her chair for her, and then sitting next to her at the table, he gave no hint of the passion that had stirred him the night before.
“I hope you slept well last night, Mr. Darcy,” she said, frowning, as she began to help herself to the food, ignoring the curious looks from other guests. No doubt they were wondering at a husband and wife who came to the table separately.
“I slept little, and that very ill,” he answered, his look serious. “I have you to thank for it.”
“Me? I cannot imagine what you mean.”
He leaned close to speak into her. “Thoughts of you kept me awake,” he said softly.
“Mr. Darcy!” she said, her cheeks suddenly flaming. She looked around quickly and was relieved to see that nobody appeared to be paying them any attention. “I am sorry that you had to stay up in the common room all night. I would have shared a room with you, if possible, but of course my maid could not stay in the commons by herself.” Surely he did not blame her for the arrangements; perhaps he simply could not be in public what he was in private. If so, then she should probably be more restrained as well.
“Of course not. Nevertheless, I am afraid I might be poor company on the way back to Pemberley.” He looked at her soberly. “If I fall asleep along the way, it is no reflection on you, merely a result of my own weakness.”
“If you would prefer, I could go ahead of you in a different carriage, so that you can have the carriage to yourself and not suffer through any disturbances I might create for your rest.” She raised one eyebrow at him, wondering how he would respond.
“Unless you are with me, my dearest Elizabeth, I shall have no rest at all.” His hand lightly brushed hers under the table and then pulled away again, leaving her with a distinct feeling of loss.
Then they were on the road back to Pemberley, the carriage swaying gently as it made its way along the smooth road, now crowded with travelers on foot and in carriages and wagons all going the opposite way. Elizabeth marveled to find herself happily retracing the steps she had taken just a day earlier, with far different emotions. Then she had been tearful, distraught—certain that she was turning her back on happiness, knowing that her life would never be as full as the time she had enjoyed while she was the wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy. She had been fleeing, knowing that every step would bring her closer to her own disgrace but willing to pay the price for the chance to atone, in some small way, for the hurt she had caused the man she loved.
This morning they were reconciled, but he was closer to the reserved husband of Pemberley than the ardent lover of the previous night. Would she ever truly understand this man?
Darcy, looking out the window, sensed her perusal and turned to look at her, smiling slightly when he caught her eye. “It will be a long ride home.”
“Not as long as it took to get here, I think, even with this crowd. The driver made remarkably poor t
ime yesterday.”
“He was following the colonel’s instructions, of course. My cousin was doing everything he could to make sure I would catch up to you as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, I worked that out for myself last night, after you left the room. It would seem I owe him a great debt.”
“So do I. Without his intervention, who knows when I might have found you again?” One corner of his mouth tipped up endearingly. “I might have had to follow you all the way to Longbourn.”
The thought intrigued her. “Would you truly have taken so much trouble?” she asked. “Would you have gone so far in pursuit of a woman who might have rejected you once again?”
“I have a confession to make, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth looked at him curiously, her eyes trying to read his in the darkened light inside the carriage. His expression looked more wistful than guilty. “What confession would that be, sir?”
“I was not entirely truthful in the letter I sent you from town, where I offered to give you your freedom.”
“Were you not? I thought you were a man of your word.”
“I am a man of honor. I would have released you, if that had been your desire. But I promised you that one word from you would silence me forever, and that is far from the truth. I could never have let you just walk out of my life.”
Elizabeth waited, looking at him expectantly.
“If you had chosen to return to Longbourn, I would have followed you and made my case to you there, for as long as it took to change your mind.”
The warm look in his eyes, shining even through the darkness of the carriage, wiped away the uneasiness she had felt all morning. As if in a dream Darcy extended his hand to her, and she took it carefully, moving slowly but without hesitation toward him. He made room on the bench as she seated herself next to him, putting his arm around her so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. She felt the slow move of his lips on her hair and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation as he took her free hand in his. For a long time all was quiet in the carriage except for the sounds of the road and the creaking of the wheels.
“I am glad you are not pushing me away again,” Elizabeth finally said, sounding relieved even to her own ears. “I was a little concerned earlier, when I realized that the William I met at the inn last night was much more demonstrative than the Mr. Darcy I met at breakfast.”
“Forgive me, my dearest,” Darcy answered, his deep voice rumbling in his chest pressed against her ear. “Making free with my feelings is not something that comes easily to me. It may take me some time to become accustomed to the sort of openness you seem to prefer.”
“Yet you showed me your affection last night rather unmistakably!”
“Yes. Your uncle told me that I would have little chance at winning your affections unless I let you see mine first. Last night, after leaving you, I wondered if I had perhaps overwhelmed you with my attentions. I do not wish to be any less the gentleman just because we are married.”
“You could never be that,” Elizabeth assured him, wondering guiltily if he was thinking of the night of their quarrel, when she had accused him of less than gentlemanly behavior. She had seen him wince in reaction to that charge. To change the subject she said, “My uncle has been of infinite use, which no doubt makes him very happy, for he loves to be of use. Not as much as your aunt, fortunately.”
“My aunt is going to learn that it would be better for her not to be so involved in my life,” Darcy answered with a grimness that took her by surprise. She twisted her head to look up at him but could make out little of his features in the dim interior light of the carriage.
“If I did not know better, I might think that you are plotting some nefarious scheme against Lady Catherine!”
“I am indeed. Her behavior toward you in town was intolerable, but her behavior toward me ever since has been even worse. It is time someone in the family puts an end to her constant interference, and it seems the task will fall to me, if nobody else will do it.”
“And how will you stop her? What can you possibly say to her that will make her stop her attack on my character?”
“That, my dearest, remains to be seen.” His arm tightened around her shoulder. “I would rather not say until I hear from my solicitor in town. He has been engaged in a particular line of inquiry that I suggested to him, and I should hear back from him shortly. Besides, I did nearly all the talking last night. Today I would like to hear your recollections. When did you first realize that I did not marry you simply out of duty? Was it when you received my letter from town?”
“No, by then I already knew. It was when your sister told me that you were happy that I had accepted you at once and allowed a rapid wedding. She said you were afraid you might have to wait months for me. She also mentioned that you had admired my playing and singing, and that your spirits had risen once you met me, after your anger over her near elopement just a few months previously.”
“All true, and all things I ought to have told you myself.”
“And then I recalled when you said that the reason you married me no longer mattered in light of my feelings for you. It was as if a screen had been removed from before me, and suddenly I could see everything clearly, from our engagement right up until the night of our quarrel.”
“Did you not sense my affection for you before then, when I paid you so much attention? Could you not see that I was trying to please you?” The hurt in his voice was plain.
“I ought to have, but I invented other reasons to explain those things.”
Darcy said nothing, and she sensed that he would not be satisfied with her feeble excuse. Sighing, she resolved to face the unpleasant subject without further delay. There would never be a better time than now, in the circle of his arms, when she would not have to meet his eyes as she made her confession.
“This will be difficult. Like you, I do not always say what is in my heart.”
“So I have noticed,” Darcy said, and this time Elizabeth heard the smile in his voice.
“Please, William, let me have my say. Just as you needed to speak without interruption last night, I need to speak freely today.”
Elizabeth felt his lips press to her forehead. Taking that as his agreement, she took a deep breath and began to speak.
“First, I want you to know that I have never had any affection for George Wickham.”
She sensed Darcy tense next to her. “Never?” he asked.
“You may have thought so from what I said to you on the night that we argued, but he never made inroads on my heart. Only you have ever done that.”
Darcy exhaled, and Elizabeth thought she felt him relax.
“But I did listen to him last winter, when he began to tell me how you had wronged him. I allowed myself to be flattered by the attention he paid me, especially after you had declared me not handsome enough to tempt you, and I was angry when I thought that you did not approve of my family. I was ready to hear whatever he had to say, but I was only diverted by him, never enamored.
“Then Mr. Bingley left Netherfield, and I was certain that you and his sisters had convinced him to forget Jane. After that happened I could not think of you without resentment. Jane lost her spirits for many weeks, and even when I went to Kent and she was in town, she had not fully recovered. When I met you at your aunt’s home I was determined to provoke and annoy you, perhaps to pay you back, in some small way, for what I felt sure you had done to her. I never once imagined that you had developed any kind of attachment to me. As angry as I was, I still would not have encouraged your addresses if I had known what you were thinking. If I had known you planned to make me an offer, I would have refused you plainly and told you the truth—you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”
She expected some kind of response at this point, but Darcy remained silent. Only his quick intake of breath let her know he was listening.
“I didn’t know you then,” she continued, half-desper
ately. “If I had known you then as I do now, I would have welcomed your courtship—and your offer of marriage. But I had no chance to learn to appreciate you. I received the message that my father was near death, and the next thing I knew, he was gone.
“After that my mind was in a blur. My family was going to be uprooted, we had no means to support ourselves, and I had no future to look forward to. Then you appeared. When my uncle came to tell me that you had made an offer, it seemed utterly unreal.”
“I wish I had been able to comfort you at that time,” Darcy spoke unexpectedly.
Elizabeth clung more tightly to the hand that held hers, wondering if he would say something more, but he did not.
“After we married, everything Wickham said seemed to be true, at first. So many of your actions seemed to confirm that you thought I was beneath you—when you told me not to wear mourning for my father, the way you arranged my days, when you agreed with your aunt about my family’s behavior. But I had to admit that you had reasons for doing as you did and saying what you said, and there were times when your presence was comforting to me. When we came to Pemberley, I began to see the affection and loyalty you inspire in those around you. Even your servants praised you. My anger began to fade. I wanted to spend time with you, to learn more about you. Then you announced that Mr. Bingley was coming to visit, and all of my previous prejudices rose in my mind again.
“After our quarrel, when I read your letter, I had to face myself for the first time. I wanted to speak to you and apologize for my prepossession and pride, but you were already gone.”
She paused to catch her breath, and in the silence Darcy asked, “Is that all?” His voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.
