Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World (26 page)

The
ride proceeded without event. Elizabeth was grateful that Mercury, while solid
with muscle, was obedient to Darcy's commands and did not strain at the reins
as Hurricane had. Darcy had been correct about teaching her to ride, though;
even for a great walker, the ascent up the steep incline would be a challenge
on foot.

The
view from the top of the Edge was as spectacular as Darcy had promised, across
fields, river, and wild pasture. She could make out the narrow, winding road
through the glen and the small white dots that were grazing sheep. The wind, no
longer fettered by the surrounding hills, whipped past her cheeks as she
clambered onto one of the rock formations that lined the cliff edge.
Exhilarated by the raw power of nature around her, she was sorry when she heard
her husband's voice calling her after only a few minutes.

When
she looked back at him, he was holding out his hand to her from the moor at the
edge of the rocks.

When
she reached him, she was struck by the pallor of his cheeks. "Are you
well?" she asked.

He
heaved a large sigh. "If this is anything similar to what you experienced
when I rode Hurricane, I am sorry I ever went near him."

With
sudden understanding, she said, "I had forgotten you disliked
heights."

He
pulled her into his arms. "It is worse to see you there than it is to be
there myself."

"But
I thought this was a favourite spot of yours."

"It
is, when I am a safe distance from the edge." He did not say anything for
a moment, just held her, stroking her hair. "I used to come here with my
mother and Thomas. He was like you, unafraid to climb to the very rim of the
rocks. He would tease me by holding his arms over the side as if he were going
to step off , but my mother would make him stop."

Thomas,
whom he had said was never mentioned, and now he was telling her about him. She
looked up into his dear face. "How I love you!"

He
raised an eyebrow. "I am not certain what I did to deserve that, but
I
will accept it gladly." He kissed her lingeringly.

"I
am glad you are telling me about your family."

His
body tightened within her arms, and she wondered if she had said too much. His
eyes seemed fixed on the distance beyond the cliff . "Once, when I
returned to Pemberley after their deaths, I came here alone. I did not plan to
return."

She
could not hide her horror. Her voice shook a little when she said, "I am
very grateful you changed your mind."

He
shrugged. "I wanted the loneliness to end, and I could see no way out of
it. My father was caught up in his own grief, and Georgiana was but a little
girl I barely knew. But in the end I could not do it. Too many
responsibilities."

Elizabeth
remembered the night she had sought out the bottle of laudanum, only to be
stopped by her responsibilities, at a time when death seemed preferable to
living. "That must have been a very dark time." She could not imagine
the world without him, having feared losing him so much during his illness.
Suddenly she straightened, a frightening suspicion in her mind.

"Fitzwilliam,
is this not where you were when you injured yourself?"

For
a moment he looked confused, then his eyes cleared. "No, the fall was not
intentional, if that is what you are asking. I was angry, and I confess the
thought crossed my mind as the simplest route to give you back your happiness,
but I dismissed it quickly. Here on the Edge I realized the difference between
our quarrel and Th
omas's
death. I would never see him again, but with you there was still hope, no
matter how far-fetched it seemed at the moment." He paused as the wind
blew tendrils of her hair across his face, then said in a different tone,
"I will confess I was perhaps riding a bit recklessly, given the
terrain."

"Now,
that I have no difficulty believing!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Though

I
do not care to imagine what might constitute reckless riding to you, since I
see it in the riding you do every day."

He
laughed. "I will take more care for your sake. But now I should take you
out of this wind before you catch a chill."

"I
am not so fragile as that!" she said, but she allowed him to lead her to
the horses.

He
put his hands on her waist, but did not boost her to the saddle as she had
expected. "Do you still fear it? Riding, that is?"

"Occasionally,
but for the most part, no."

"When
we return to level ground, would you be willing to try trotting?

It
is truly quite safe. But only if it will not trouble you." He looked like
a little boy asking a favour.

"I
will try it, but I may not continue."

"As
I said once before, that is all I can ask." He kissed her before lifting
her atop Pandora.

Darcy
led the way down the steep hill, allowing Elizabeth to admire the fine figure
her husband cut on horseback. She wondered how she could have ever failed to be
aware of how handsome he was.

When
they reached the valley, intersected by a bubbling stream, Darcy halted his
horse and dismounted, then held a hand out to Elizabeth. She slid down
Pandora's flank, pausing to pat the horse's head when her feet were safely on
the ground.

"No
trotting?" she asked.

"I
thought perhaps we should rest a little first. It has been a long ride, and I
do not want to overtire you, especially under the circumstances."

"If
you wish; though I could continue easily enough." Elizabeth found a patch
of soft grass to sit upon while Darcy tied the horses to a sapling. "I am
glad to take advantage of the fair weather. Soon it will be winter; and, if I
am indeed with child, I will not have this freedom."

He
sat beside her, and then stretched out on the ground, his hands behind his
head. "Do you think often about that possibility?"

She
smiled at the obvious care he took in choosing his words. "To be quite
honest, I have not thought about it as much as I should, having been
preoccupied with other matters. But I was excited to tell you about it. I
thought you would be pleased."

"Not
that again!"

"What
is wrong with wishing to please you? Do you not wish to please me?"

"Yes,
I suppose. But I have been concerned because you seemed so indifferent to the
possibility, whether you might resent it."

Elizabeth
felt a wave of guilt at his perspicacity. She plucked a stem of grass and
folded it between her fingers. "Perhaps a little at first, but not
now."

She
could see her reply had disappointed him. "What changed your mind?"

Uncomfortably
she said, "It was a shock initially."

In
a fluid movement he sat up and at the same time pressed her backward so that he
leaned over her, propped up on his elbow. "For the rest of our lives,
Elizabeth, it is going to worry me when I feel that you are avoiding telling me
something."

She
gazed into his dark eyes, seeing the concern there. She turned her head to the
side with a sigh. "This is difficult to speak of."

He
did not move or say anything, just entwined his fingers with hers.

He
had told her the truth of his despair, and she was honoured that he had trusted
her with it. She owed him her truth as well, although she feared it might hurt
him. She would simply have to reassure him to the best of her ability.
"Very well, if you must know, I was distraught at the time, not from the
realization I might be with child, but before that. I misunderstood why you
went to London, thinking you did it to avoid my company.

I
did not wish to live. The baby meant I had no choice but to go on living.

Now
I see it differently, but then, it was hard."

A
look of horrified comprehension came over his face. "I will never forgive
myself."

She
placed her hands on each side of his face, forcing him to meet her gaze.
"Do not blame yourself. It was a failure of understanding, nothing more.
When I look back on it, I can see you must have thought it clear why you were
leaving."

"I
was sure you knew I was going to find your sister. And I still cannot
comprehend why you thought I no longer loved you. It is not something I could
change."

"I
had given you reason to hate me, and you were so distant."

He
shook his head. "Distant? I knew how much you disliked me. I thought to
spare you the burden of my company, at least as much as possible in
civility."

Impulsively
she reached up to kiss him. "And I wished only for the opportunity to show
you I regretted my errors."

"We
have been at such cross purposes, my love, and I have caused you so much pain.
I do not know how you can forgive me."

"I
have been your equal in misunderstandings. But while I would not deny that I
have been unhappy, if I had not learnt what it meant to lose you, I would not
have realized what you meant to me. Or at least to think
I had lost you. I still cannot understand how you can forgive me for
the things I said to you."

"How
could I not, given all the mistakes I have made? I had known something was
troubling you, that you were not yourself. I should have realized much sooner
that I was the problem."

"Let
us not argue any further for the greater share of blame, but instead think of
the pleasures of the present. But there is one thing I must thank you
for."

"What
is that?"

She
gave him a teasing look. "For kissing me that day at Rosings. If you had
not, I would have refused you and said something quite intemperate, and we
would have parted in anger, never to meet again. I should have missed so much
had I never discovered the man you truly are."

He
put his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "It is I who should
thank you."

Darcy
frowned. It was completely ridiculous for him to feel abandoned simply because
Elizabeth had decided to visit the convalescent Mrs.

Tanner
and some of the other tenants. Still, he had to force himself to allow her to
go alone, or at least only in the company of a footman and a maid. He could not
hover over her every minute. Even knowing there was no danger, that Mr. Tanner
was in the magistrate's hands and would never return to Pemberley, he disliked
having her away from his side.

The
urgent knocking at the study door caught Darcy's attention immediately. He put
aside the letter he was writing and called, "Yes?"

It
was the servant girl, Sylvia, the one Elizabeth had taken such an interest in.
She was breathing heavily, as though she had been running. Darcy's brows
furrowed at her interruption. As a housemaid, she should know better by now.

"Mr.
Darcy, sir, Mrs. Darcy is down at my family's house, and she's talking to a man
and I don't think she likes him. And she told me I was to come back right away
and report to you, even though I was supposed to be helping her, so I think she
wanted me to tell you."

Not
tenant trouble again. Elizabeth would know better, would she not?

Still,
he rose to his feet as he said, "Who is this man?"

"My
mother's cousin, sir. He's visiting from London, with his wife, and
they
know Mrs. Darcy. His wife says she is Mrs. Darcy's sister." Sylvia's
disbelief in this claim was readily apparent.

Her
mother's cousin. Suddenly he remembered why the name Smithson was familiar. He
strode to the door. "Show me where she is."

Fortunately
it was not far. He knew better than to take a fast horse this time, and despite
his instinct to tear Elizabeth away from Wickham, he knew it was not Wickham's
way to harm her physically. No, Wickham was nothing but an opportunist. It was
the lies he would tell Elizabeth that he needed to worry about. She had
believed him before, and he knew all too well how convincing Wickham could be
when he set his mind to it.

Georgiana
was proof of that.

Darcy
stopped short. The girl looked at him questioningly. "Sylvia, I have
changed my mind. Please go back to the house, and tell Mrs. Reynolds--no one
else, mind you!--that Miss Darcy is not to leave the house until I have
returned."

"Yes,
sir." She pointed down the road. "Our cottage is the next one behind
the hedgerow." She bobbed a curtsey and turned toward Pemberley House.
Darcy strode forward without looking back.

Elizabeth
tried to quell her rising indignation. "Mr. Wickham, I believe my husband
has already been generous enough to purchase your commission." She could
hardly credit the easy assurance with which he bore himself. He must have
familiarized himself with her usual routine and made a point of being present
when she made her visit to the Smithson cottage.

"It
is true, my dear sister, but you have a greater understanding of the economies
to which we will be forced, living on a soldier's wages. Mr.

Darcy,
who has never had a moment of need in his life, is less likely to comprehend
the limitations."

"Lord,
Lizzy," Lydia said crossly as she brushed away a fl y, "I do not see
why we must discuss this in the heat and dust of the road. Can we not go to
Pemberley House? Or are you too good for your own family now, as Mama says?"

Elizabeth's
lips tightened. She had no intention of allowing either of them within a
quarter mile of Georgiana, and she did not even wish to imagine what Darcy's
response would be to such an appearance.

"Hush,
Lydia," Wickham said. "It is not Elizabeth's fault. I am sure Mr.

Darcy
insists on denying your family, and it is no choice of hers." He smiled at
Elizabeth with a good-humoured ease, as if there were an understanding between
them.

That
there had once been a certain truth in his statement infuriated her yet
further. Elizabeth resolved within herself to draw no limits in future to the
impudence of an impudent man. "How curious you should think that, since he
attended your wedding. But it is no matter. I am sorry I cannot offer you further
hospitality."