He did so.
They hadn’t talked.
Certainly, they spoke to each other, but not about anything, certainly not about the fact she’d put her head in his lap and sucked his prick into her mouth and swallowed his seed in asitting room in Neith Abbey whilst they were both abominably drunk.
They never acknowledged that had happened.
There wasn’t a time or place for it, to be fair, however. He set up the trip to the Matlock house through letters, and one didn’t write that in a letter, for it was too risky that it might be seen by someone if the letter was dropped or lost or what-have-you.
And then they were always in the company of others. They were never alone.
Richard’s funeral took place within a week of her return to Weythorn. She was allowed to attend, which was all the concession she was given as his wife. She was never acknowledged as such by the family. She was not asked to stand in the receiving line to receive condolences from the guests. There was no graveside ceremony for there was no burial. No body to bury, after all.
After it was over, she went back to Weythorn, and assumed that was that. It was all over. Richard had left her nothing, but then he had nothingtoleave to anyone.
She was not yet one and twenty. She was a widow.
But there was no need to be too maudlin about it all, she supposed. She was deeply grieved over the loss of Richard. He had been too young and too vibrant, and he had loved her and she loved him. She should, in fact, suffer for a bit. It should be a time of sadness and solemnity.
She found Weythorn to be just the place for a period of mourning, or it should have been, anyway, except for the fact that one day a carriage and some horses appeared.
The carriage Richard had left her had been taken away by the Matlocks, and she inquired where this one had come from, and was told only that it was hers and she should not worry overmuch over the whys and wherefores.
And only three days later, a troupe of servants arrived at her door, saying that they were there to serve her, and when she inquired about where they had come from, they also gave a similar explanation, that she must not ask questions but simply accept.
Elizabeth had an idea who was doing this, and she wasn’t sure how to react to it.
On the one hand, perhaps it was a good thing, for it meant that Mr. Darcy’s devotion to her was still as unshakable as ever.
On the other hand, maybe it didn’t mean that. He wasn’t here, was he, not visiting her, and she was in mourning and couldn’t go out and call on people, anyway, and it wouldn’t have been entirely proper for her to call upon him anyway, though she was a widow now, which meant she had more social mobility, and anyway, she would rather have talked to him than have had these luxuries lavished on her.
She sent him a letter and had one of the new servants deliver it, and a response came back from him right away saying that he had no idea what she was talking about and apologizing that he had not been to see her but that there were various things he needed to see to that involved his sister currently, and he hoped she was well.If you need anything at all, madam, I am at your service, obviously.He closed the letter,Yours, Fitz
The nickname pierced her and she clutched the letter to her chest, thinking that yes, perhaps hewashers.
Why he was being coy about doing this for her, however, she didn’t know.
And then, a week later, she was paid a visit from the dowager duchess herself.
Her Grace cut an imperious figure when she was shown into the sitting room of Weythorn, and Elizabeth apologized a number of times for the lack of much in the way of refreshments.In truth, she was not indulging herself, since she was supposed to be in mourning—sad and solemn.
The Duchess of Neithern perched on her chair and didn’t touch her tea or her scone. “I shall come right to the point of my visit.”
“All right,” said Elizabeth.
“No use in beating around the bush, after all.”
“No use, indeed.”
“Your husband has conveniently died.”
“Conveniently?”
“And this means you can marry again, and I think you must marry Bartholomew.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Marry Neithern? But he was her brother. Except, actually, no, he wasn’t. No, they weren’t related at all. She was quite stunned.
“You must see how tidily this solves everything,” said Her Grace. “You will be the duchess, which will mean that you will have access to everything you are due to have inherited, more, even, for you won’t have to be married off outside the family. You may stay there, with me, and you and I can get to know each other.”
