“Right, of course,” said Elizabeth.
“Except she does seem to have protected Neithern,” said Darcy. “He said the late duke was locked up for all of his life.”
“Well, my mother was right to be wary,” said Elizabeth.
“I fixed it for Matilda best I could,” said Larilane. “I didn’t tell her I was going to substitute another babe for hers, but I did it. When she found out I’d consigned some other child to that life, she was livid. She would not live in Weythorn, not anymore, even though I signed the deed over to her. She wanted nothing from me, absolutely nothing. And she said that, now that the duchess thought she was dead, she had no path for legitimacy for her daughter. For you. So, she must send you off, she said. She could not raise you herself.”
Elizabeth was not sure how she felt about that.
“You must see that your life would have been awful if you’d been raised by Matilda, who had no income or prospects or anything of the sort, and that you would have had no social standing.”
“Yes, maybe,” said Elizabeth. “But also, if she would have lived in Weythorn with me, she could have simply said my father was dead. If she would have married you, you would have claimed me.”
Larilane hung his head. “True.”
“It was her anger,” said Elizabeth. “Her pride. Her pride cost me a mother.” Her voice cracked. “And I shall never have one now.”
Mr. Darcy reached for her, entwining her small hand in his larger one once again. She shut her eyes and felt as if his strength flowed into her body from his own. She was glad he was here for this.
“I am ever so sorry,” said Larilane. “It could be she regretted it. I gave her little chance to take things back, I’m afraid. I felt strongly I had done ever so much for her. I had, you see, given her a house and money, and then I had solved the issue of her awful husband, and…” He sighed. “I married Jennifer very soon afterwards, and there was no chance of reconciliation between Matilda and me. I must say, my feelings for her have never faded, however, which is not to say that I don’t dearly love my wife. They are simply different feelings, you see. There are different ways one can love another person, and the way I loved Matilda…” His voice also cracked.
It was quiet.
Mr. Darcy squeezed her hand.
She looked up at him, grateful, and his features seemed dear and familiar to her. It was strange, for he felt to her almost like a member of her immediate family, as safe and trusted as her ownpapa, but she also felt a stirring desire for him, similar to what she felt for Richard.
Don’t I trust my husband?she thought in alarm. And she knew she did not. He had done little, in fact, to earn her trust.
What would it be like to have a husband who could be both things to her, who could protect and thrill her?
No reason to think that sort of thought,she scolded herself.No reason at all.
“Well, that is all of it, I think,” said Larilane.
Elizabeth shook her head at him. “Did you know that Mrs. Exley is quite convinced that you are a fey prince?”
“Mrs. Exley! She’s still there?”
“Quite,” said Elizabeth.
“Mrs. Exley was old when Matilda and I lived there. She must be in her eighties now.”
“No,” said Elizabeth. “I think twenty years younger than that!”
“If there’s fey folk around, it’s her,” said Larilane. “Sometimes, I swear she would simply conjure food for us out of thin air. And she was there when you were born. She likely put some sort of charm on you, I think, for you are…” He laughed softly, looking at her. “I see Matilda in you, of course, but I see something else, something almost luminous. And this one is devoted to you, is he not?”
Mr. Darcy let go of her hand, clearing his throat. “We are… amiable, that is all.”
Elizabeth felt entirely mortified.
“She is married to someone else, you see,” said Mr. Darcy gravely.
“So was Matilda,” said Larilane, smiling mischievously at them both.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ELIZABETH WAS GRATEFULfor Mr. Darcy’s presence as they made their way back to Barralds. They crept around to the west wing door where they were able to enter unobserved and they went up the steps together, listening to the strains of the piano coming from one of the sitting rooms downstairs. Some members of the party were still awake and participating in some merriment, it seemed.
