Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World (24 page)

A
knock at the door announced the presence of Mrs. Reynolds, bearing an
unrequested poultice for Elizabeth's face. So the details of the incident had
spread as well. Although her jaw still stung, she did not think it required a
poultice. But her husband might be angry if she refused the treatment, so she
submitted to Mrs. Reynolds's ministrations.

Elizabeth
held the poultice to her cheek. "Mrs. Reynolds, would you be so kind as to
arrange for some assistance to be sent to Mrs. Tanner?

Clothes
for the children, I think, and blankets, as well as food."

"Already
done, madam. Old Sarah will stay to help Mrs. Tanner, and she knows to send
word if they need anything." The housekeeper raised the poultice and
examined the swelling underneath it. "Lucy, we'll be wanting some powder
to cover this before Mr. Darcy sees it again. No need to distress him
further."

At
another time, Elizabeth might have resented being managed to this degree, but
at the moment, she was relieved someone else was making the decisions for her,
especially if Darcy was as angry as Mrs. Reynolds's words suggested.

Mrs.
Reynolds paused, then put her hand on Elizabeth's arm. "It was a fine
thing you did, Mrs. Darcy."

It
helped to know someone thought so, even if her husband did not.

A
few minutes later, as Elizabeth approached Darcy's study, she wished she could
turn time back. She had been so happy with the progress they had made and the
affection he had shown her, and now he was angry again.

The
despair of the last weeks returned to flood her. Would she ever manage to keep
his good opinion for long, or would it always be a series of struggles? And she
could not even blame him. But she might as well face the worst. Wearily she
knocked on the door.

Darcy
opened it and held it for her with courtesy, but as soon as he closed it behind
him, his face lost its careful neutrality. "Elizabeth, what were you
thinking, to confront such a man? Did you not consider the danger?"

She
drew in a careful breath. "I considered the danger to the infant to be
more serious than any danger to me."

"That
is admirable, but unacceptable. I will not have you risking yourself."

He
paced back and forth. "You are the mistress of Pemberley, not a servant.

And
if there is a chance you are with child, you must be that much more careful."

She
sat in the leather armchair so she could avoid seeing his face Her back
straight, she said, "What would you have had me do? Allow him to hurt the
infant?"

"You
should not have been there without a manservant to protect you!

Then
it would never have arisen."

"Fry
was with me earlier, but I could hardly bring a footman into a birthing room,
nor did I have any reason to fear for myself. I did not anticipate Mr. Tanner's
presence. He had never been there before when I visited."

She
struggled to keep a quaver from her voice. Once again she was little more than
a problem to him. The sting of hopelessness was painful in its familiarity.

"In
future I expect you always to be accompanied or not to go. Is that clear?"

Her
cheeks burned. She would almost rather he hit her than treat her with this
disdain. "Completely, sir."

Something
in her voice must have struck him, for he stopped his pacing suddenly and his
brow knitted. He knelt before her. "I do not wish to quarrel with you. He
could have hurt you seriously, or even killed you, had he a mind to it."

She
turned her head to the side, hiding the bruise. "And would that not be the
best thing for everyone? It would solve a myriad of problems."

There
was a measured pause. "What do you mean by that?"

Her
bitterness would not be contained. "Why, he would hang for it, and cause
no more trouble. You would be free to marry again to a woman who would make you
happy, and beget an heir without tainted connections."

His
hands gripped her arms tightly. "Elizabeth, do not say such things!

Not
ever."

"Very
well. In future I will only think them."

"Christ
in heaven, Elizabeth! Are you trying to drive me mad?"

She
was about to make an angry retort when the pain in his face struck her.
"No," she said tiredly. She rose to her feet and walked to the far
end of the room, facing away from him. "I will be reasonable now, and go
back to pretending all is well and that I believe you are content in our
marriage.

I
will do my best to avoid danger in the future, and always take a servant with
me when I call on tenants. I will even pretend I do not hate your horse.

Is
that satisfactory?"

The
silence was like a leaden weight. "I will stop riding Hurricane. It is the
only thing you have ever asked of me."

It
was the last thing she expected him to say. She put her hands over her eyes and
burst into tears.

She
heard his footsteps, and then his arms came around her. The warmth of his
breath caressed her forehead as he spoke. "I am sorry, Elizabeth. I had
thought you happier of late, but obviously I have been deceiving myself. There
is nothing I can do to make up for the pain I have caused you.

All
I can do is to ask you what I might do, what I might change to make you less
miserable. Ask, and I will do it, whatever it might be."

Elizabeth
could not even think to respond. He was a good man, and she should not have
spoken to him as she did. "I am happier. What happened earlier ... "
She faltered as an image of the baby's face presented itself in her mind, a life
that would never be lived, a child who would never play outside in the
sunshine. She gripped Darcy's shoulders tightly, unable to breathe.

"Elizabeth,
what is the matter?"

She
could not help leaning into his embrace, sobbing for everything that had been
lost. "She was so very tiny. The baby ... "

His
hand stroked her back comfortingly until her sobs subsided. "I am sorry
you had to witness that, to have it add to your unhappiness."

He
did not understand, but perhaps no man could. She wiped her eyes.

"It
was frightening, and I have not yet fully recovered my spirits. Please do not
take that to mean I am unhappy in general."

"This
is why I do not want you in such a situation."

"I
have said I will not do it again."

"So
you have." He released her, but did not walk away. "But my question
remains--what can I do to make you happier?"

His
intensity made her uncomfortable. "Truly, I am quite content. I need
nothing beyond what I have. But I thank you for the offer. Shall I see you at
dinner, then?"

His
hand gripped her arm. "No, Elizabeth. We are not done yet. I have let you
slip away too often when you say all is well. You are not leaving until you
have asked something of me."

"But
there is nothing I want or need. You have always been generous."

"I
am not speaking of trinkets. What can I do that will make you happier?"

What
was she to ask, when the only thing she wanted was his love? But that could
only be given, not asked for. "I do not know."

"There
must be something you would like that I have never done."

Once
he had loved her. Still, she had to answer him. Perhaps she could ask for
something that would help her understand him better. "You could tell me
about your brother."

His
expression of surprise was replaced quickly by dismay. "How will that make
you happier?"

Elizabeth's
first impulse was to tell him he need not do it, but she recalled it was his
insistence that she ask for something. "I do not know yet, but I do not
like secrets."

He
ran his hand through his hair. "It is not a secret, just something we do
not speak of."

"It
is a secret to me."

"Very
well." He crossed the room and poured himself a large brandy. She did not
recall seeing him drink this early in the day before. He settled himself on the
brown leather love seat. "What is it you wish to know?"

"I
know nothing about him but his name."

"Well,
then. He was two years my younger, and my closest friend in my youth, though we
could not have been more opposite. I was serious; he was merry. I was cautious;
he was bold. I disliked meeting new people; he loved it. But there was no one
whose company I preferred." He fell silent, gazing intently into his
glass. "There was one other difference as well. He liked George Wickham; I
did not, but I pretended to for Thomas's sake."

She
had no wish to discuss Wickham. "Did you spend much time with
Thomas?"

"Whenever
we could. We had lessons together, and rode with our mother.

Later,
when my father insisted on my involvement in the business of the estate, Thomas
ended up in scrapes, usually aided, if not led, by George.

He
had no malice in him, just the high spirits of youth. George had more cruelty
in him, but Thomas never saw it."

"What
happened then?"

He
took a swallow of brandy. "Nothing in particular. I went to Cambridge, and
I missed Thomas. He was due to join me in two years, and I looked forward to
it. But there was an outbreak of smallpox that winter. Neither Thomas nor my
mother survived. I knew nothing of it until it was all over, and when I
returned ... " He paused, his attention seemingly on swirling the brandy
in the glass.

She
had the feeling he had forgotten her presence. "What happened when you
returned?"

"Nothing.
Thomas was always my father's favourite, and I my mother's.

My
father did not find me an adequate substitute for Thomas. I suppose I resented
my father, as well, for surviving when my mother had died and for seeking his
comfort in George Wickham's company. Then two years later, my father died of
apoplexy, equally unexpectedly, while I was in London.

So
if I seem to worry excessively over your safety, perhaps that is why."

She
nodded slowly. "That is enough to make anyone worry. I am grateful to be
back on the list of people you might worry about."

"Back?"

Elizabeth
shifted uncomfortably. "I believe there was a time after our quarrel when
you would have been just as happy had I disappeared into the mist!" she
said, trying to turn it into a jest.

"No,
never that. I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take a
proper direction when I realized what I had unwittingly done. I never stopped
loving you."

The
assertion was so startling and matter-of-fact that Elizabeth could not believe
it at first, much less take pleasure in it. "But you ... "

"I
know; what I feel hardly signifies when it has caused you so much pain.

I
do not even know how to begin to beg your forgiveness for what I have done to
you."

"There
is nothing to forgive," she said, still struggling to take in his
startling assertion. "But do you not regret marrying me?"

Darcy
stood and walked over to the window, looking out over the Pemberley grounds.
"That is a difficult question, for the answer is both yes and no. Yes, in
that I would not do it again because of the pain it caused you. I wanted to
make you happy, and instead I made you suffer. But, as you know, I can be very
selfish. Can I bring myself to regret having you as my wife? No, I
cannot."

She
would never forget this moment or the flood of relief it unleashed in her. She
went to him and put her arms around him. "I do not regret it either, nor
do I regret loving you."

She
felt the breath catch in his chest. "Are you trying to assuage my guilt,
or do you truly mean that?"

She
tipped her head back to look up at him. "Of course I mean it. Do you think
I could have given myself to you as I have these last two nights if I did not
love you?"

He
searched her eyes, then his arms crushed her to him almost painfully.

"I
can speak of this no more, Elizabeth. You do not know how I have suffered for what
I have done."

She
put her finger to his lips. "Then do not speak of it. Should I leave you
for now?"

"No."
He held her tightly, as if he feared she might disappear. "Do not
go."

Chapter 19

After
supper Darcy announced that he was fatigued and would be retiring early, giving
a significant glance to Elizabeth. Slightly be-mused, she accompanied him when
he returned to their rooms. But instead of taking her to his room as she
expected, he stopped in their private sitting room, leading her to the sofa by
the fi replace. He invited her to sit with him and put his arms around her,
encouraging her to lean her head against his shoulder.

Elizabeth
hid a smile. "This is why you wished to retire early?"

He
flushed. "I found I did not want to share your company with Georgiana this
evening. We had so little time this afternoon, and much yet to be said."

She
heard the slight doubt in his voice. "I am perfectly happy to have you to
myself as well, especially since for so long I could not."

He
seemed content just to sit and hold her, but after a few minutes he said,
"May I ask you a question?"

"Of
course."

"You
often seem frightened of me, and I have wondered why. I like to think I have
not mistreated you."

"No,
of course you have not." She hesitated before answering, fearing her
response might displease him. "But you yourself said you were of a
resentful temper. The lies Wickham told me convinced me you could be ruthless
when angered. I saw how you did not hesitate to show your disdain. I did not know
what you would do if I disappointed you, and as your wife, I was totally in
your power." She paused. "As I still am."

His
lips tightened. "But you must know I would not abuse that power."

"I
know that now. But I still fear displeasing you, for I never know what will
make you turn me away."