“No! You are still determined to be more concerned with the misfortunes of the rest of the world than you are with mine!”
The injustice of that charge drew a wordless exclamation from Elizabeth’s lips. “On the contrary! I amentirelyconcerned with my husband’s propensity to impose his implacable resentment on the affairs of perfectly undeserving individuals!”
She knew then she had said too much. Her stomach lurched hideously to see his expression turn to ice.
“I thank you for expressing your opinion so eloquently, madam.” He left without another word, slamming the door behind him.
One or two heartbeats of silent anguish followed then Elizabeth sank onto the foot of the bed, one hand to her mouth, and stared in dismay at the closed door.
Oh, she had made him angry! And wherefore? Granted, it was disappointing that he had not given Mr Montgomery fair counsel, but what did it matter toherwhom that man wed? Why, oh why, had she argued the point when sheknewhow deeply he felt Lady Catherine’s betrayal? She, who had promised to love him better than his ignoble aunt and, not ten minutes ago, congratulated herself on being able to console him in his distress!
Resolving immediately to find him, that she might hold him and comfort him as he deserved, she set about making herself presentable to leave her room. She paused on her way out to collect the papers he had left behind. As she put the pages of Mr Montgomery’s letter back in order, her eye was drawn to a particular word on the second page that threw all thoughts of their disagreement from her mind. Not wishing to be mistaken about such a thing, she read further and wasdismayed to discover her fears founded. Carefully, she refolded the letter and left in search of her husband, steeling herself for a far greater test of her ability to comfort him than either of them would wish.
Darcy stared unseeing from his study window, his jaw clenched and his grip on his tumbler fierce. He was angry—furious, in fact. At whom was a point on which he vacillated by the moment. His feelings towards his aunt remained inimical in every respect. She had maligned his honour, contested his authority, scorned his happiness, overlooked his lifelong loyalty and daredto insult his wife. His feelings towards the man who would have him turn a blind eye to all that and reinstate the connection merely for his own convenience were presently not much better and quite at war with the established regard and gratitude he held for him.
Then there was his wife. Not since he was a boy had he been required to justify himself to another person, yet here he was at almost thirty years of age, somehow accountable to a woman who questioned his integrity at every turn. Anddamn itif she was not always bloody right!
He threw back a mouthful of brandy. Evidently, he had learnt nothing from the manifold lessons in compassion, tolerance and forgiveness he had received in recent months. Elizabeth knew it and thought ill of him for it, and that made him excessively angry with himself.
The door clicked open, and the reflection in the window showed his judge and juror stepping into the room. He wished she had stayed away longer, that he might have regained somemeasure of equanimity before being required to account for his behaviour. “Have you come to carry your point, madam?”
“No, Fitzwilliam.”
He was not familiar with her expression. It made him uneasy. “What then?”
She came to stand in front of him and held out what looked to be the papers he had left in her bedroom. “My darling, you need to finish Mr Montgomery’s letter.” She bit her bottom lip and said no more but continued to regard him anxiously.
He set his drink down on his desk and took the letter from her, skipping directly to the part he had not yet read. Moments later, he lowered himself into his chair, propped his elbow on the armrest and covered his face with his hand. “Damn.”
Here, then, was the motivation for his aunt’s recent behaviour—her anger at his refusal to marry Anne, her furious objections when he withdrew his resources from Rosings. Lady Catherine was dying.
Elizabeth came to him, cradling his head against her stomach and whispering tender words of comfort. He wrapped his arms about her hips and held onto her.
“I ought to have seen it,” he whispered gruffly. “She has been unwell, coughing for months.”
“None of us suspected. Not me, not your uncle, not Fitzwilliam. You could not have known. Montgomery says it took the word of two physicians to make her admit it.”
“Why did she not tell me?”
“I do not know. Perhaps she did not realise. Or perhaps she did, and once she comprehended your resolve not to have Anne, she did not wish to force your hand.”
He looked up at her incredulously. “Why then did she go to such lengths to prevent me from marryingyou?”
“Not compelling you to marry her daughter is a far cry from condoning your marriage to somebody like me. Itispossible she believed she had your best interests in mind in both cases.”
“But why persist now we are wed? She has only driven me farther away when she needs me most.”
Elizabeth smiled sadly. “Resentment is rarely reasonable.”
Darcy stared, dismayed. To all this,hisdamned, stupid resentment had blinded him! That same bitterness of spirit Elizabeth plagued him constantly to forswear. Pray that she never ceased plaguing him, for she would make him a better man than he could ever hope to be without her. He tugged her down into his lap, rested his forehead on her shoulder and entrusted his sorrow to her embrace. “Thank God for you.”
Tuesday 18 August 1812, Yorkshire
“The weather looks to be clearing at last,” Charles announced.
Caroline looked up from her needlework and peered dubiously atwhat little of the day she could see from the minuscule sash window opposite. The sky looked to her much the same as it had all day: dull.
“Yes, it is brightening a little,” agreed Jane, predictably.
