“Miss Elizabeth, I could not allow you to walk three miles unaccompanied. If you wish, I will follow behind to ensure your safety, without forcing my company upon you, as a groom or footman would do.”
She regarded him gravely, her eyes shone bright even in the darkness. “I have never endured a groom trailing behind. I find the notion detestable. My preference is that you return to Netherfield and allow me to walk to Longbourn in solitude. Besides, you are not dressed for mud and dirt.”
She turned and quickened her steps. He followed at a distance. Anger rose in her breast. It was not enough that he condemned her family in public. He must now force his presence upon her, as though she might tolerate the escort of the very man who had disgraced her. He was the last man on earth she wished to see, except perhaps Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had witnessed herhumiliation and how shaken it had left her, and Sir Lawrence, who would surely turn his back upon her and hold both her and her family in contempt. These thoughts stung her as keenly as his words had done.
She lifted her gown, pulling it to one side so she might hold it draped over her left arm, and then she ran from him. Her heart pounded with the pain of betrayal. Within minutes, she had outpaced him. She stopped to look back, but he was no longer in sight. Relief washed over her. Adjusting the fabric of her gown over her other arm, she pressed forward, anxious now to be home, locked in her dark room, where she might at last weep in privacy.
Elizabeth ran most mornings, three to six miles at a time. She knew she could reach her home in another twenty to thirty minutes. She stopped once again to lift the skirt of her lovely ball gown, her first one ever, then set a brisk pace and did not slow until the lights of Longbourn came into view.
His words rankled in her mind. Vulgar mother. Unruly sister. As if she herself were not bound up with them. He knew nothing of Aunt Phillips, who, in a temper, could prove worse than her mother. She was almost surprised he had not spoken of her uncle Edward. Perhaps he was spared only because Mr. Darcy was beholden to him. Yet Mr. Darcy had judged, and judged aloud to a stranger. The waltz returned to her mind, their hands joined, his palm warm at her waist, her heart lifted as if she had flown. The memory of that lovely waltz was ruined forever; her romantic dream was besmirched by shame.
She looked ahead and saw the lights of Longbourn not far off now. She slowed to a walk to catch her breath and gather composure before facing her mother or Mrs. Hill. When she reached the edge of the rose garden, she spied a horse tied to thegatepost. It was Mr. Darcy’s horse, Ares. And there, beneath the trees, stood Mr. Darcy himself. He was frowning. Well, let him be angry. She was the one with cause for anger and for pain.
Dropping her skirts, she straightened her back and walked with all the dignity she could muster toward the front door.
He stepped out from beneath the trees, leaving the shadows behind. “Miss Elizabeth, I am glad to see you made it safely home.”
“Thank you, sir. I told you not to concern yourself.”
“I would have a word with you.”
“I prefer not, sir. I have heard too many words fall from your lips already. More than enough for a lifetime.”
His voice was low. “Miss Elizabeth, I am sorry that you overheard my conversation with Sir Lawrence. It was private between him and myself.”
She practically snorted her derision. “Only sorry that I overheard you? Sorry that I heard you denigrate my mother and sister, and through them, my entire family and myself?”
He faltered. “I am sorry I discussed such a topic in public.”
She folded her arms and held him with a grave stare. “Yes? You are sorry you condemned my mother in public? That is all?”
He looked askance.
Her voice trembled. “What business was it of Sir Lawrence that my mother is vulgar, that my sister is ill-behaved? Who is Sir Lawrence to me? Why should he know anything of my family? And who made you judge? What gave you the right to turn another against me and mine?” Her throat caught. “I will neverface him again, but that does not signify, as I’m sure he will return to London in the morning, so I need not fear.”
She stifled a sob and turned away, struggling for composure, but her tears would not be restrained. She dashed at them with her hand, then straightened her back and whispered, “Excuse me, Mr. Darcy. I am tired.”
As she walked past, he reached for her arm. “Miss Elizabeth, please let me apologize…”
She drew back from his touch. In the starlight, she glimpsed his gloved hand and remembered, with a pang, how sweet it had felt when he had held her in his arms. Then the shame of his words returned, flooding her mind. He took a step closer. “Elizabeth, I am sorry. I had no right. He asked about you, about your position. I spoke without thought and repeated what was uppermost in my mind. What any man might wish to know of a woman’s family.”
She stopped and faced him, her voice raw. “So you blackened my family, ruined any chance I might have had with a respectable man? Sir Lawrence showed interest. He asked to dance. He sought to know me. That hope is gone. Meryton already suffers from a scarcity of gentlemen due to the war. You destroyed one of my few prospects. You should be careful, Mr. Darcy. Your influence is powerful. With a word, you can change lives for the worse. It would be preferable to employ your influence for their good.”
Her strength broke. She sobbed again, pressed her hand to her eyes, gathered her skirts, and ran from him. She wished never to see him again.
Elizabeth slipped quietly into the house, hoping to reach her bedchamber unseen. But Hill stepped out of the pantry.
“Why, Miss Lizzy, you are home very early on the night of a ball.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I developed a headache, Hill, and hoped to sleep it off.”
Hill shook her head. “Both your mother and I have a headache from struggling with Miss Lydia. She threw a dreadful tantrum when she saw your father meant what he said, that she should not go to the ball. She broke her water pitcher and washbasin, tore down the curtains, and flung her blankets out of the window. She screamed and cried until the whole house was in an uproar. Your mamma sent Samuel to sit outside her door, and he has been keeping guard there ever since. She will sleep tonight on a bare mattress without sheets or blankets, for they lie in the garden where they landed. Your mother said they are not to be brought in nor laundered. Miss Lydia will wash them herself tomorrow and sweep up the glass shards besides. At length, that little miss tired herself out and fell asleep. I was searching in the pantry for the nursery key, and here it is.” Mrs. Hill held the key in her hand, triumphant. Samuel may sleep in his own bed tonight rather than stand watch.”
Elizabeth listened, astonished. That her mother had shown such firmness and good sense was a welcome surprise. The discipline was just what Lydia required.
She saw the weariness that lined the housekeeper’s face and the stoop of her shoulders. She remembered all this woman had done for the sisters through the years, and with gratitude, she leaned in, kissed her cheek, and embraced her. “Hill, you have borne so much tonight, but it will be Lydia’s salvation.”
Outside in the darkness, Mr. Darcy stood rooted to the ground, Elizabeth’s words echoing in his mind. He had injured her; he had shamed her in public. She held him accountable for drivingaway an eligible, respectable suitor, and her reproaches were just.
