“Oh,” said Jane, understanding. “You think he only wanted to take you into his bed.”
“It was my bed, actually,” said Elizabeth. “He has never taken me to his house or to meet his family or anything like that. He lusts after me, but he is ashamed of me. He married mebecause he finds me pleasing, not because he loves me. It is… I don’t think it is a good marriage, Jane!”
Jane took her hands in both of hers and squeezed. “Oh, Lizzy, my Lizzy.”
“Don’t tell me this is my own fault, because I know it is,” said Elizabeth. “I shouldn’t have let myself be swayed by him.”
“You allowed him liberties,” said Jane. “I knew it. I asked you before, and you would not confirm it, but you did, did you not?”
“I suppose I did,” said Elizabeth. “It was only that nothing mattered anymore at that point, because—” But she had still not told her sister about Mr. Wickham and everything that had happened.
“You were still reeling from the knowledge of finding out about your mother,” said Jane. “I know this. I said to you that you must put all that behind you, didn’t I? It seems now you have.”
No, she had finally found the truth, but she hadn’t told Jane about that either. She suddenly felt angry that she had lost her closest confidant, her sister, and now there was such a wide chasm of withheld information that Elizabeth did not know how to fill it or to bridge the gap between them again.
Jane would not be angry with her, she supposed, for withholding the information, but she would be hurt. She’d be wounded that Elizabeth had hidden so much for her.
Elizabeth would rather not cause her sister pain if she could help it.
“But regardless of whether or not it is the ideal marriage,” said Jane, “it is your marriage. You cannot become unmarried, after all. You are married to this man, so you must tell our family that you are. You cannot hide this forever.”
Elizabeth knew that Jane was right, of course.
“And things will improve with time,” said Jane. “You two have had very little time together. Whatever it is between you,you are correct that he went against the expectations of his family to have you, and that must mean something. He cares for you more deeply than you realize, I think. That is a foundation upon which love can be built.”
Jane was right about that, too.
Elizabeth wrote out responses to her family, confirming the marriage. She didn’t send any of them, however, and Jane scolded her, and Elizabeth begged Jane to simply do it, to write the letters and say that, yes, Elizabeth was married, and that would be the end of it.
They argued over this and they worked on their masks.
And before long, it was the night of the ball.
Elizabeth had put the finishing touches on her mask the day before. It matched her dress and was made of a very light lavender fabric, embroidered with dark purple thread and dark blue thread. They had managed to find some paste jewels to decorate both hers and Jane’s. She had two blue jewels in the wings of each side. The dress wasn’t new, as she was not spending too much of her money, feeling the need to live frugally for now. There had been some communication with Neithern about this, but nothing from the dowager duchess. Elizabeth felt that the time for pushing the issue was later, not currently. Anyway, she thought she might see the dowager duchess that evening and they might speak at that point.
She was getting ready for the ball, when Mr. Darcy knocked on her door.
Her maid was helping Jane to dress, for Elizabeth was already in her dress, though her hair was down. She was holding the mask as she opened the door a crack.
“I have news,” Mr. Darcy said to her, his expression pained. “I… forgive me, Elizabeth, I could not decide whether to tell you now or not. I have decided not to tell my sister until after theball this evening, and I should have waited to tell you as well, I suppose, but I am giving you the choice.”
She blinked at him. What? There was no choice at all if someone hinted to her there was news. “Is it bad news?”
He nodded a stiff and jerky assent.
“Tell me.”
“It’s Richard.” Mr. Darcy could not meet her gaze. “He’s dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MR. DARCY REGRETTEDsaying it so baldly immediately after the words had left his mouth. He should have used some euphemism. This was the man’s wife, after all!
She pushed her way out into the hallway, eyes wide. She shut the door behind herself. “You’re not telling Miss Darcy until after the ball?”
“It seems cruel,” he said. “She has been looking forward to this for weeks, and it is not exactly her debut into society, of course, but sort of a warm-up, and I have arranged for her to come back early anyway. Before, I thought I should stay after her, until midnight, at least, for the supper, but now I shall come back with her, and I shall tell her in the morning. We’ll leave, then, to go back to town. You are welcome to come along.”
“How do you know?” she said. “What happened? I suppose no one sent word to me because no one knows I am his wife.”
