More devastating still was the knowledge that she truly wished to be rid of him entirely. Whatever affection had grown between them had been destroyed by his deception.
“I see,” he managed.
“She is quite determined,” Lydia continued with what seemed like satisfaction. “Papa has already consulted with solicitors about the matter. Something about fraud, I believe.”
Darcy closed his eyes briefly, fighting against the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. He had known Elizabeth was angry, had expected her fury and hurt. But he had not truly believed she would seek to dissolve their marriage entirely.
“Well,” Lydia said brightly, “I must return home. Good luck with whatever you decide to do, Mr Darcy.”
As she walked away, Darcy remained motionless on the path between Longbourn and Netherfield. The afternoon sun continued to shine, birds sang in the hedgerows, and somewhere ahead lay the woman he loved—the woman who no longer wished to be his wife.
Chapter Thirty
Elizabeth
Elizabeth stood at the morning room window, watching Darcy’s conversation with Lydia unfold on the path below. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she observed their exchange, noting Lydia’s animated gestures and Darcy’s increasingly rigid posture. She felt utterly at sea—torn between anger at his deception and an aching longing she could not suppress.
She missed him, despite not wanting to feel this way. She missed their morning conversations over breakfast, the way he listened when she spoke, the quiet companionship they had discovered during their brief happiness. She worried constantly about Mr Wickham’s health. The old man had become precious to her in their short acquaintance, and she felt wretched knowing her abrupt departure might have affected his fragile condition.
When she saw Darcy turn back towards Longbourn rather than continue to Netherfield, disappointment flooded through her so sharply she gasped aloud. Then she cursed herself for such foolishness. Had she not refused to see him? Why should she feel disappointed when he respected her wishes?
A knock on the door brought Hill into the room, a letter in hand. Elizabeth took it and knew at once it came from Jane.
My Lizzy,
Your letter has caused me great distress, though I confess not surprise. I have suspected for some time that more lay behind your marriage than mere circumstance. I cannot condone Mr Darcy’s deception, yet I counsel you to consider his motives with care.
From everything you have told me of his relationship with the elder Mr Wickham, it was clear that he loves the man like a father. Imagine if our own papa had a weak heart and was in poor health. Would you not do everything in your power to protect him from devastating news? I do not excuse Mr Darcy’s actions, but I can understand them.
You write that you had begun to love him, and I believe he has grown to love you as well. Whatever decision you make regarding your marriage, let it be based on truth.
Elizabeth sank into a chair, Jane’s words echoing in her mind. Would she condemn another person to a marriage of convenience to protect someone she loved? The question disturbed her more than she cared to admit. She had always prided herself on moral clarity, yet Jane’s observations forced her to examine her own principles more closely.
She thought of her father’s suggestion regarding annulment. Freedom beckoned—Darcy would be sent away, Wickham arrested and tried, her reputation restored. Yet as she tried to picture a life without Darcy, the vision remained stubbornly blank. He was not a malicious person, whatever his faults.
The dinner bell interrupted her brooding, and she made her way downstairs to discover, to her astonishment, that her mother had joined them at table. Even more surprising was Lady Hartford’s demeanour—she appeared perfectly composed,acting as though nothing whatsoever was amiss. Everyone at the table exchanged concerned glances at this unexpected behaviour.
“I had the most interesting conversation in Meryton today,” her mother announced brightly, as if discussing the weather. “Mrs Long informed me that a new gentleman has taken the Dixon cottage in town. The second son of a viscount, if you can imagine! Quite well-situated and handsome, by all accounts. I believe he would suit Elizabeth admirably for a second marriage.”
Elizabeth blinked in confusion. “Mama, I am still married—”
Lord Hartford stepped in gently. “Elizabeth remains wed to Mr Darcy.”
“That unfortunate mistake will be swiftly remedied,” Lady Hartford interrupted with a dismissive wave. “We must move quickly before this new gentleman can be contaminated by gossip. I want Lord Hartford to call upon him and make introductions immediately.”
“I have no intention of meeting any gentleman,” Elizabeth said. “This is ludicrous.”
“Has Mama taken too many of her tonics?” Kitty whispered to Mary, who looked equally bewildered.
“I am thinking clearly for the first time in weeks,” Lady Hartford declared. “I will not allow that scoundrel Wickham and his accomplice Darcy to ruin Elizabeth’s future.”
“There is nothing wrong with Mr Wickham,” Lydia interjected suddenly, her voice cutting through the room withstartling vehemence. “He has done nothing wrong at all. It was Elizabeth who enticed him.”
The table fell into stunned silence. Elizabeth stared at her youngest sister in mortification, while the rest of the family exchanged looks of confusion and alarm.
“How can you possibly say such a thing?” Elizabeth managed.
“Because it’s the truth!” Lydia declared with reckless defiance. “You encouraged him, I saw the way you looked at him at the ball. Any man would have thought you were fond of him.!”
