The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy (17 page)

***

True to her word, Elizabeth did not want to talk about the impending end of their vacation. She pushed all thoughts of it from her mind, refused to engage Darcy in any discussion of it. She tried to ignore Jane and Bingley’s excited talk of the stories they would share with their coworkers upon their return. She did not have that happy option; she could not even confide in Charlotte Lucas of a wild affair. Lou would have to be her only comfort.

She spent the day drinking in every last sensation that she could. She studied Darcy carefully so that she could remember every intimate detail of his body, of his laugh, the taste of his lips,
and the
mossy smell of his skin. She spent an inordinate amount of time looking at him when she thought he was not aware. She engaged him on a solitary walk where they held hands. They sat at the edge of the lake together and she threw bread to the swans.

Darcy was already saturated with her. Every thought, every smell, every sound somehow wound itself back to her. Most of the day was spent not in conversation but in soulful, wishing glances. He held her more than he usually did, kissed her often even before Mrs. Reynolds or the household staff. Such a display would normally be distasteful to him but frankly he wouldn’t waste a single second on such considerations now. He had to get his fill while he could.

And so the day passed far too quickly for each and they retired early to be alone and to drown in each other once again.

June 14
-
Friday

The last day of their vacation arrived without welcome. Elizabeth was coiled with nervous tension and Darcy was called away for much of the day to meet with his staff on closing the house and approving business in his absence until his next return.

Bingley drove in to London for reasons unknown, leaving Jane and Elizabeth alone for the day. Jane noted Elizabeth to be uncommonly quiet and pensive. She did not respond to Jane’s teases or questions. She seemed preoccupied. Jane correctly assumed that Elizabeth was having serious doubts about her relationship with Darcy but whether it was regret or desire to continue or how to disentangle herself, Jane could not tell. For the first time ever, she felt unable to read her sister. And for the first time ever, she felt it better not to try yet.

Darcy joined them briefly for lunch and they chatted amiably enough, though there was a strain in the air. Jane watched them closely and saw Elizabeth stop him in the hallway as he was about to return to his business in the study. She watched as Darcy gently caressed her sister’s face and kissed her with a warmth that could only mean that he loved her. She watched Elizabeth return the kiss with equal warmth. She watched him pull back and hold Elizabeth’s hand and say that he was sorry, that he would see her in a few hours. She watched as Elizabeth nodded and looked down with either shyness or sadness.

Bingley returned in time for dinner with Darcy, Jane, and Elizabeth. He was taken aside by Jane, who quietly told him that Elizabeth and Darcy seemed to be in some sort of trouble. He nodded. They agreed to watch their friends closely and provide what comfort they could.

He watched as Darcy and Elizabeth pretended to eat their dinner. He saw them give each other miserable glances but exchange no words. He watched Darcy rub the back of his neck in discomfort, saw Elizabeth look away and blink back her tears. Later, he overheard their soft exchange:

“Are you angry with me?” Darcy asked her. She looked at him with surprise.

“Of course not, how could I be?” She touched his hand on the table. He squeezed her hand tightly for a brief moment, then drew his hand away. They resumed their miserable silence until the dinner plates were cleared. Then they retired to their room to pack.

Elizabeth hardly paid attention to what was going into her suitcase. She was having a hard time keeping her composure. She couldn’t speak for fear of crying.

Darcy was packing robotically. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her one last time but she seemed distant. Would they spend this last night together in cold silence? Would she even stay with him?

“Elizabeth,” he said behind her. She turned at the sound of his voice. He thought she looked fragile, her eyes wide and shiny. “Come here,” he said softly, holding his hand out to her. She went to him and he folded her in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist and he kissed the top of her head.

“Let’s not be distant on our last night,” he said into her hair. She looked up at him and finally, a tear slipped over her lashes. She did not sob or cry; she might not even have been aware of the tear had Darcy not wiped it away with his thumb. She closed her eyes and two more tears slipped out. She turned her face into his hand and kissed it.

Darcy cupped her face in his hands and kissed her cheeks. He felt his own throat tightening but absolutely forbid any prickling tears to come. He would not break down in front of her.

Somehow, their clothes were removed and they were entwined in bed but neither took much pleasure in their lovemaking. It was bittersweet, a desperate avoidance of the truth that this was the last time they would ever be together. Finally, Darcy entered her with something like a sob in his throat. He buried his face in her hair, gripped her body tightly with his fingers. She kissed him between her own hitches, trying mightily not to cry out loud, to scream that this couldn’t possibly be the end. She wrapped her arms around him like a drowning woman clinging to a lifeboat. He pushed deep into her and she heard him swallow hard. She heard his breath catch uncontrollably as he spilled into her. She lost her own compos
ure when, finally, he whispered.

“I love you, Elizabeth. I love you.”

June 15
-
Saturday

All four checked into the airport together but Darcy had purchased a first-class ticket while the other three were in coach. She was disappointed when he stopped at his seat and she filed back to her own. A moment later, he reappeared and approached the gentleman beside her.

“Sir, I wonder if you would exchange seats with me so that I can sit next to my friend,” Darcy said to him, indicating Elizabeth. He was determined to squeeze every last moment with her from this trip. The man looked at Darcy and Elizabeth but did not want to give up his aisle seat.

“Where are you sitting?” he asked warily.

“In first class,” Darcy replied. He showed the man his ticket. Darcy thought the man may have had an accident in his pants, so excited was his reaction. He eagerly gave his seat to Darcy and practically ran to the front of the plane.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said as he sat next to her.

“Yes I did,” he replied simply. “The person next to me in first class wouldn’t exchange your seat even for a hefty bribe,” he grinned. “You can have the aisle if you want it,” he offered. It would be a hellish flight, coach seats simply were not made for one standing 6’4”. But he’d bear it cheerfully if it gave him a few more hours with her. She laughed at the thought of him squeezing even further into the row and shook her head.

“Thank you,” she said. He kissed her hand then her cheek, then her lips. She returned the kiss with some warmth but broke it off too soon for his liking. He lowered his head to her ear so that only she could hear him.

“It’s an eleven hour flight,” he said to her gently.

She nodded. “Yes, but around hour five is when we need to start breaking up,” she smiled sadly.

“But until then I’m still your lover,” he replied. He emphasized the statement by kissing her again, unabashedly in the middle of a packed international flight. He broke off only when he felt himself becoming aroused. He was not going to talk her into sex in the bathroom, he was quite sure. Maybe before but not today. She was clearly sad; maybe almost as sad as he was.

She put the armrest between them up and leaned her back into him. He turned in slightly and put his arms around her. They spent the majority of the flight in silence. True to her word, at around hour five, she pulled away from him and put down the armrest. She withdrew from him steadily for the rest of the flight and they both sunk into depressed silence.

***

The plane plunged to the landing strip followed closely by Elizabeth’s heart and stomach. It was a rough landing and Darcy had held her hand tightly but now he released it.

That’s it, it’s over,
thought Darcy. Elizabeth could not bring herself to make a joke about the plane turning back into a pumpkin; she had barely spoken for the last 36 hours and wasn’t about to start now. Both filed out of the plane as if going to their death sentences.

Jane and Bingley watched them anxiously as they awaited their luggage at baggage claim. There was an unspoken agreement between them that they would swoop in for the rescue if needed. Darcy blindly watched the carousel spin, vaguely recognized Elizabeth’s bag and pulled it off for her.

“Let me drive you home,” he pleaded as she took the bag from him. She shook her head.

“No, it’s better this way.” She couldn’t meet his eyes with her own. She felt strangely ashamed, on top of the utter misery that settled in her chest. How in the world was she supposed to go on without him, to work with him as if nothing had ever happened? How could she have been so stupid to think it would be easy?

“Can I kiss you goodbye?” he asked. She shook her head and saw the pain in his face. He reached to touch a lock of her hair but she pulled away, avoiding the contact. She didn’t want to dissolve into tears here and didn’t know if she could master herself if he touched her. The lump in her throat was back so she just shook her head again. He pulled his hand back, hurt. This was really,
really
the end.

“Lizzy
-”
he began, his voice strangled. She cut him off with a shaky voice.

“Thank you for a wonderful time and for being such a wonderful host. Your Honor.”

She could not have stunned him more had she slapped him. They were back in reality and she had just crashed him unceremoniously through the gate. His face hardened and he nodded curtly. He bit back his hurt and anger. His mind began to go numb against the realization that it was definitely over. How was this happening? It would be easier to live without his vital organs than to go on without her; the heart was already gone in any event.

Bingley looked at Jane. “I’m driving Darcy home,” he said to her. He gave her his keys. “Take my car. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kissed her briefly and went to Darcy. He steered Darcy toward the exit without protest.

Elizabeth followed Jane meekly to the shuttle, to Bingley’s car, and then home. She didn’t have the stamina or fortitude to assure Jane that she was perfectly fine; she had no energy to lie convincingly.

Jane steered Elizabeth back to the house and led her to her room. She hesitated briefly, unsure whether Elizabeth would prefer company or to be alone. Jane decided to leave her alone but to keep an eye on her. When Jane returned to Elizabeth’s room with her suitcase, Elizabeth was sitting motionless on her bed, staring into space.

“Can I get you anything, Elizabeth?” she asked. Elizabeth showed no sign that she heard Jane. Instead, she opened her suitcase and began to unpack. She would try to distract herself until that awful time when she had to get into her cold, empty bed. Jane watched for a few moments, completely at a loss. She had never seen Elizabeth in such a state. She didn’t know what to do, how to help her. She backed out of the room, leaving Elizabeth to her own comfort. A moment later, she passed the room and found Elizabeth sitting on the bed sobbing into a shirt.

Elizabeth did not see or hear Jane until she sat next to her on the bed and put an arm around her shoulders. Elizabeth wiped her eyes and nose on the shirt, then waved it at Jane.

“It’s his,” she laughed mirthlessly. “Somehow it got in my bag.” Jane squeezed her and Elizabeth stiffened slightly.

“Lizzy, it’s OK. I’m here for you. Go ahead and cry.” With that, Elizabeth relaxed and leaned against Jane and had the longest, most desolate cry of her life. Jane left over an hour later when Elizabeth had cried herself into exhaustion with the shirt clutched tightly to her chest.

***

Darcy wordlessly gave Bingley the keys to his car as they walked to the parking lot of the airport. His mind was completely blank; he didn’t remember anything between the carousel and getting into his car. Bingley drove them to Darcy’s condo in the middle of downtown. He tried to make small conversation but Darcy did not respond; he did not hear. The doorman recognized them both and let them in, seeing the dazed look on Darcy’s face. Bingley led Darcy up to the condo and pulled his bag in for him.

He was very seriously concerned for Darcy; he had never known Darcy to be impulsive, and this whole affair had been nothing short of schizophrenic. He thought Darcy secretly harbored some hope of continuing the affair, of working something out. But Elizabeth’s rejection at the airport had been clear and profound. Darcy had obviously been hurt, stunned; something else Bingley had never before witnessed.

Darcy allowed Bingley to herd him into his condo and switch on a lamp. He nodded wordlessly when Bingley called himself a cab and handed the car keys back to Darcy. He sat quietly in an armchair while Bingley poured him a drink.

“I’m sorry,” Bingley said softly. Darcy nodded, still staring off into space. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can get for you?” he asked. Darcy did not respond; he had already stopped listening again and ignored the drink Bingley poured. Bingley sighed. The door intercom rang and the cab driver announced his presence. Bingley told Darcy to call him if he needed anything but he didn’t think Darcy heard him.

Darcy turned off the lamp and sat in sullen darkness. He was already berating himself for his impulsive behavior during the past two weeks. What had he been thinking? He mechanically went through the routine of getting ready for bed and climbed into the cold sheets in darkness. He lay awake for hours stifling the wellspring of emotions in his chest, stamping them down with grim determination. He would get her out of his system; there was no other option.

June 16
-
Sunday

“Lou, you need to come over,” Jane said quietly into the phone. “It’s Lizzy. I’ve never seen her like this, I don’t know what to do.”

“What happened? I haven’t heard from her for over a week,” came Lou’s concerned voice.

“They broke up. Now she has to work with him and I don’t know if she can handle it. Please come over.”

“I’m on my way,” Lou said and hung up. Elizabeth had always confided in him and he in her. She had been his staunchest supporter when he came out to his parents; he would never, never abandon her.