“Is that so? I could not get Darcy to confide in me either when I called at Netherfield. He looked careworn and out of spirits. Will you not enlighten me? I have long noted his interest and respected your repeated assurances that you felt nothing for him. Yet, less than a day after the ball, you accept my invitation to London—though at first you were most reluctant. Elizabeth, we are friends. Will you not allow me to help?” Suzanne took her hand, her eyes earnest.
“I had intended to confide. I hardly know where to begin. Mr Darcy proposed…and I could not accept. No, do not interrupt. I love him, Suzanne. Most ardently. But I am not whole, and I cannot marry him knowing I have not healed. He deserves more. And so, I am off to face my demons.”
“How can you say you have not healed?” Suzanne pressed. “You seemed happy at Longbourn.”
“Happiness is not the same as restoration,” Elizabeth replied. “There are sounds, scents, and moments that still unnerve me. The worst is when I hearhim—Fiennes—I cannot erase the sound of his voice from my mind. Sometimes, in an instant, his image appears in place of the person to whom I am speaking. I could not bear it if I were to marry Mr Darcy and then…” She broke off and bit her lip, hoping her friend would understand what she could not express.
“Dear girl.” Suzanne moved to sit beside her and placed an arm about her shoulders. “I believe I understand. I had no idea—”
“I went to Longbourn and never attempted to—” Elizabeth faltered, drawing a trembling breath. “—to understand myself, to overcome what happened. I put it all aside, as though forgetting might make it vanish—the memories, the mistreatment…” Her voice broke, and the tears she had long restrained, slipped down her cheeks. She took the handkerchief Suzanne offered with a quiet word of thanks. “I do not know myself.”
“You are strong,” Suzanne reassured her. “You will overcome this, and I shall do all in my power to help. Perhaps a visit to your house in town will be the best beginning.”
“I will not sleep there,” Elizabeth insisted. “Mrs Heinz and a small staff manage the place. Everything remains as I left it.”
Her friend looked astonished. “Everything? Your husband’s rooms, his journals, his ledgers?”
“Everything,” Elizabeth repeated. “Wilkens took what was needed to conduct business and close the office in Cheapside, but the rest was left untouched. We departed in such haste, you see.”
“That is a beginning, then. Would you like me to come with you?”
Elizabeth hesitated and then gave a small nod. “Does that make me a coward?” she whispered.
“Not at all. It makes you human. You are as dear to me as a sister, Elizabeth. Had I any notion you were suffering, I would have acted long ago.” Suzanne gave her another affectionate squeeze before returning to the opposite bench. When Elizabeth had composed herself, Suzanne called to the driver to stop the carriage and invited the children back to ride with their mamas.
“It would not be kind for the servants to be squashed the rest of the way,” Elizabeth said, tweaking Elinor’s nose. The little girl crawled into her mother’s lap and yawned. She was asleep in moments.
They reached London in time for tea. Suzanne swept into Godfrey House, issuing instructions to her staff. They hurried about, taking cloaks and carrying trunks. Miss Lane took Elinor to the nursery and helped her settle, while Arthur disappeared to his own chambers. Suzanne led Elizabeth to a suite of rooms in the family wing.
“If you wish, we can have a cot brought in for Elinor,” she said.
“The bed is enormous! I think my daughter can sleep with me if she needs to. There is plenty of room.”
Elizabeth admired the chamber. The furnishings were of blue, gold, and cream, with hints of blush lending warmth to the scheme. A thick rug covered the floor, and the bed appeared no less inviting, with four ample pillows awaiting herrepose.
“Tea will be ready in half an hour. Make yourself comfortable. Your maid will unpack your trunks, I am certain. Shall we meet in the parlour?”
Elizabeth nodded, sinking into an armchair. When the door closed behind her friend, she leaned back against the cushions, wondering whether she had made the right decision to come to town. Already, she felt anxious knowing her husband’s house stood but a street away.
I shall conquer this, she told herself. Her course was clear, and she would not let the past control her any longer. She would find no inner peace by fleeing her memories, but by meeting them face to face. At last, she was ready to begin.
Chapter Thirty-Five
7 December 1811
London
Elizabeth
“IamforBondStreet today, Elizabeth. Though I have no need of new gowns, I feel inclined to browse the shops. Will you accompany me?” Suzanne looked up from her breakfast in anticipation.
The familiar aversion to spending money rose in Elizabeth’s chest. She started to decline, then checked herself. Before her marriage she had never hesitated to purchase what pleased her. She was not frivolous; to buy an article on occasion was no crime.And am I not in London to overcome these feelings?“I believe I shall,” she said, assuming an air of indifference.
“Brava, my dear. ’Tis a good step.” Suzanne’s husband, too, had kept a tight hold on the purse strings. She seemed to have no qualms about expenditure now. Elizabeth wondered whether such ease had come with practice.
They visited Madame Dubois’s rooms that day. The modiste clapped her hands in delight at the sight of her visitor. “I am very pleased to be of assistance, Mrs Fiennes,” she said in her heavy French accent. “You are ever amongst my prettiest patrons to dress, madame—so light and lovely a figure!” She flitted amongst her fabrics, bringing forth one bolt afteranother. A bold red silk caught Elizabeth’s eye and she took an immediate fancy to it.
“’Tis too daring—I could not.” She felt uncertain as she turned the silk over in her hands.
