“But you did help.” Elizabeth looked up through her tears. “I was a frightened girl when I came here, and you showed me kindness when none was to be found in my husband.” Another sob caught in her throat. “I hate that I must call him that. He does not deserve the appellation.”
“No, he does not. No man who harms a woman does. It took courage for you to come back here. I wondered if you ever would.” Mrs Heinz patted her back gently, and Elizabeth’s sobs subsided.
“I thank you.” She straightened and brushed at her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Do you feel a mite better?” Mrs Heinz’s round face softened as her eyes kindled with warmth.
“I do. I am sorry for the disorder.” Elizabeth glanced at the heap on the floor, astonished by its size.
“Never you mind that. I shall see it all removed—burned, if you wish.” The woman’s smile broadened. “By the time I am done, there will be no trace of that blackguard in the house.”
“Do with it as you please. I care not, so long as it is gone.” Elizabeth had done her part. A lightness of heart stole over her, almost giddy in its relief. “Might I bring Elinor to meet you?”
Mrs Heinz beamed. “I would love to meet the little mistress, ma’am. Thank you.”
Elizabeth rose and offered her hand, helping the older woman to her feet. Their eyes met, and a new bond formed between them—one wrought of compassion and shared trial. Mrs Heinz had seen Elizabeth at her lowest and had helped her gather the scattered pieces of her life.
“Would the morrow suit?” Elizabeth asked shyly. It was mortifying to have been witnessed thus, but Elizabeth knew Mrs Heinz would never judge her.
“I’ve no pressing engagements, madam.” Mrs Heinz gave her a wink. “Now—how about a spot of tea? I shall have the maids and footmen clear away all this.”
Arm in arm, they descended the stairs. Elizabeth insisted her housekeeper join her for tea, refusing every protest. “You have done more for me than you know,” Elizabeth said warmly. “It would give me pleasure to share a cup of tea with you, both today and ever after.”
And so, they spent an agreeable hour in conversation. Elizabeth spoke of her family, and most of all, of Elinor.
“Will you return?” Mrs Heinz asked as they parted. “The house has been empty of life for so long.”
Elizabeth considered. The memories of that house no longer held her captive; she had faced them and lived. With every reminder of her husband removed, she felt she might endure the place once more. “I think that might be arranged. Whether as mistress or guest, I shall come. My sister is soon to be married; her husband may wish to lease a house in town.”
Promising to call with Elinor, Elizabeth donned her bonnet and cloak and took her leave. There was a new buoyancy in her step, and though the day was dreary, the world itself seemed transformed. Humming softly, she walked the short distance to Godfrey House, slipping inside and ascending to the nursery to see her child.
Later, she told Suzanne of her errand. The countess listened, impressed. “Well done, my dear. I am proud you found the strength to face what awaited you there.”
“Will you come with me when I take Elinor to meet Mrs Heinz?” Elizabeth was stronger now, but she desired Suzanne’s presence still. The countess readily agreed, and they planned to go before tea.
“Henry has invited us to dine on the morrow,” Suzanne continued. “I am eager for you to make his acquaintance. He is everything to me, Elizabeth. You will like him exceedingly.”
“I am sure I shall. I am not set entirely against men, you know. If he makes you happy—if you love him, and he loves you—then that is enough for me.” A smile touched her lips; she knew her words were true. Suzanne was no fool. She would not marry again at the cost of her peace.
“I wish to invite him and his sisters to tea later this week. The children might attend if you like. A small family party—just the thing.”
“Have you met his sisters?” Elizabeth asked, recalling with distaste Mr Bingley’s relations.
“I have. They are charming—nothing like those you are thinking of.” Suzanne’s eyes danced. “You will be fast friends, I am certain. Martha loves books and long walks as you do, and Margaret is a gifted musician.” Her friend spoke with fond animation, detailing her future sisters-in-law’s good attributes as Elizabeth listened politely.
“They sound delightful,” she said when Suzanne paused for breath. “I am sure we shall get on famously.” They discussed the arrangements and sat down together to compose the invitations.
“No sense in delay,” Suzanne reasoned.
It gladdened Elizabeth to witness her friend so thoroughly engaged in her future. The shadow of doubt that had lingered regarding Suzanne’s new attachment began to lift. She felt certain that once she met Mr Blythe and his sisters, any remaining misgivings would vanish, and she could rejoice entirely in her dear friend’s future.
And maybe,whispered a voice within,when you see how happy she is, you will believe such happiness possible for yourself.I can only hope,sheanswered in silence.Joy of that kind has seemed beyond my reach for so long—it would be a blessing to taste it at last.
Chapter Thirty-Six
December 1811-February 1812
London
