He had not moved to embrace her, instead staying behind his desk. Perhaps he could not let himself soften right now, either. “What reason will you give for your journey?”
He lifted a letter from his desk. “They have arranged it all. I have a small estate in Ireland, and the steward there has been found to be stealing. I must go to oversee the investigation and hiring of a new one. I will sail from Liverpool, in theory.”
In theory, but not in reality. “I suppose it is better if I do not know all the details.”
“Most likely.” Now, finally, he came out from behind the heavy desk that stood between them. He took her hands in his and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I will be traveling under the name of Edward Harcourt.”
She bit her lip until it hurt. He was telling her this so that if the newspapers reported that Edward Harcourt had been killed, she would know what it meant. Through her suddenly dry mouth, she said, “Thank you.”
He continued to whisper. “You will receive letters from me, purportedly from Ireland, to keep up appearances. They will all be written in advance, though.”
And she would have to pretend she was not worried about him. “Is there anything I can do to help you prepare?” Having a task might make it easier. No, what was she thinking? Nothing could make this less painful.
“My valet will handle most of it, but you could inform Mrs. Reynolds of my plans.” He hesitated. “Perhaps, if I do not ask too much, could we dine privately tonight?”
A chance to be alone with him, with no servants looking on? “Yes, of course.” And then her façade crumbled as she moved into his arms.
This would be their last day together. She wanted to steal every moment of it.
Elizabeth was wearing her brave face when Darcy found her in their private sitting room, her eyes still red-ringed, but she welcomed him with a smile that only looked slightly forced.
“Thank you for arranging this,” he said huskily. He had hurried through his last preparations, final instructions for his steward, breaking the news to Georgiana, and scribbling quick responses to letters that would otherwise never be answered, just so that he could have this time.
How had he ever thought he could do this? It had seemed simple back at Netherfield, when he was still reeling from the knowledge of Jack’s death and the dragon attacks. He would marry Elizabeth, get her with child, and then head off to France without a second thought for either his wife or baby.
He had not known then that she would teach him to care about living again. Nor what it would mean to learn to love her, and then abandon her to a future alone. Not to mention breaking his own heart by giving her up.
“When do you leave tomorrow?” she asked.
“First thing,” he said. “It will be a full day of travel.” He tried to chase the image out of his head, of walking out the door of Pemberley for the last time, and their final farewell.
She raised her chin. “I think it would be best if we said our goodbyes here in the morning, then. Perhaps it is weak of me, but I am not certain I will be strong enough to keep my composure in front of the staff when you leave. It will be hard enough to pretend that I am not worried about you while you are gone.” Her voice trembled.
He went around the table, already set with food, and took her hands. Gently he raised her to her feet. “It is not weakness. It shows that you care, which means everything to me. It will be easier for me, too. I never imagined parting from you would be so hard.” He took her precious form into his arms, all too aware this would be among the last times he could do so.
She pressed her face against his shoulder, and then raised her head to seek out his lips. He met them with a desperation and hunger that surprised even him. How much he needed her!
Then his hands, as if of their own accord, began to tangle with her buttons, and he forgot everything but her.
The waiting dinner was long forgotten.
The next morning, Elizabeth dragged herself out of bed. Sobbing would not bring Darcy back. She poured water into the basin and splashed it on her hot face, letting the cool wetness soothe her swollen eyes. But nothing could reduce her fear and pain.
Perhaps if she went back to bed, she could escape through sleep. But then she would only dream of Darcy in danger, and she could not spend the next few months hiding from reality.
She needed to face facts. Because of her efforts, Darcy was better equipped to succeed in his mission. With the help of the dragons, he even had a chance to survive it. But it was no more than that: a chance. He would be in enemy territory with the entire might of the French state turned against him, and his English accent would betray him from the moment he opened his mouth.
Her breath caught in her throat. No, she was not going to start crying again. She had responsibilities, to practice the exercises Granny had given her, to work with the dragons on setting up defenses, to strengthen herbond to the land so she could send more power to Darcy. To care for the child growing within her. To take her place as the mistress of Pemberley.
She rang for Chandrika to help her dress. The maid carefully said nothing about her reddened eyes, just rubbed a little powder under them to disguise the shadows. “Will you be wanting a breakfast tray, Mrs. Darcy?”
The cowardly side of her wished to accept. But she had a role to play, that of a wife whose husband was merely attending to business in Ireland, not risking his life. For his protection, she had to put on a brave face and not draw attention to his absence. She raised her chin. “No, I will go downstairs.”
Convincing herself to eat something was a different matter. Even if her appetite had not fled with Darcy, she had been distinctly queasy in the mornings of late. The very smell of coffee was enough to make her want to run away. She should ask Mrs. Reynolds to stop serving it, since Georgiana never drank it. But she soldiered on, ignoring the generous spread of food on the sideboard in the breakfast room, settling on tea and toast with honey.
It seemed so empty there. Only last week, Granny, Roderick, and Darcy had all broken their fast with her, and Frederica had been just a short walk away. Now all of them were gone, all but Georgiana, who spent most of her time in her rooms. She was alone.
She had managed only a few bites of toast when Mrs. Reynolds came in. “Mrs. Darcy, would you have time today to consult with me about a situation?”
