Elizabeth jerked her eyes away. Her first, panicked instinct was to demand of her sister who was writing such things to her, but she knew Lydia too well. Prod her too hard, and she would retreat into denial in a flash. She took a deep breath, schooling herself to caution as Lydia came to her side.
“Lizzy? You look quite pale suddenly. Are you feeling unwell?”
“People keep saying that to me,” she muttered, stalling for time as she tried desperately to think how best to address the matter. Lydia was clearly pleased with herself and saw no harm in her adventures, but she had proved over and again that she did not know the difference between harmless fun befitting a young lady of gentle birth, and that which might damage her reputation forever. And all the while, memories of the most astonishingly passionate kiss rattled about in Elizabeth’s head, making a mockery of her concerns for Lydia.
Very carefully, she said, “I am glad you are having a fine time of it here. Only, I hope you are being sensible about your friendships. The seaside air and the excitement of so much company can sometimes lead to…poor decisions.”And I would know.
Lydia’s expression immediately became guarded. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean that young ladies must always be conscious of their reputation, even when—especially when—they are away from their family’s watchful eye.”
Lydia huffed and rolled her eyes. “You sound just like Mary, all sermons and bluster. In any case—whohas rumours flying round about her engagement? Hm? Not me, is it? Seems to me that you might take a page from that book yourself!”
Elizabeth grimaced. “No matter that. I would not have you get yourself into danger.”
“Danger? What sort of danger do you think I am in?”
Elizabeth sighed, recognising the rebellious glint in Lydia’s countenance and increasingly certain that to reveal what she had read would only lead to an argument and potentially drive Lydia to greater secrecy. “I hope you are not in any danger. I only wish for you to be careful.”
“You can have a care and still have a good time,” Lydia retorted.
“Of course,” Elizabeth agreed, repressing another unhappy sigh. Miss Hawkridge’s tales of wildness amongst young ladies who hung around the regiments echoed in her ears. She hoped Lydia would steer clear of such shenanigans, but she simply did not know how to enforce it.My father has never taken the trouble to check her, so how can I possibly do so?
Perhaps it was time to write to Mr Bennet, or even speak to Mrs Forster, though she doubted either would take the situation as seriously as it deserved. She would speak to her aunt and uncle, of course, but Lydia was not likely to pay Mr Gardiner any mind—he was too gentle by far—and Mrs Gardiner was as likely to be met with obstinacy as Elizabeth found herself presently.
“Just take care,” she repeated. “And pray, if you hear anybody say that I am engaged, correct them!”
She took her leave of Lydia soon thereafter. Shewalked slowly, burdened with the growing certainty that her peaceful retreat in Brighton was about to become far more complicated than she had ever anticipated.
23
Darcy despised the trepidation cascading through his veins as he knocked on the front door. He was a full-grown man, with experience of the world and hundreds of people dependent upon him. He was unused to feeling like a stripling boy, liable to be undone by a coy glance or fleeting touch.
Or the desperate hope that the woman he loved was not lost to him.
He had resolved, at some point in the night, to leave Elizabeth alone. She was an intelligent woman who knew her own mind; he had no right to question her decision. His resolve had lasted less than half a day before he launched himself from his chair and walked out of the drawing room, ignoring Saye’s and Fitzwilliam’s startled enquiries, and marched all the way to the Millhouses’ residence without stopping.
His knock was slow to be answered; the reason, when the housekeeper gave it: callers had not been expected, and the family was not at home.
“I see. Pray, is it only me who is not beingreceived?” he blurted, unable to stop himself regressing further into undignified adolescent petulance.
“You mistake me, sir. They are out.”
“All of them?”
He may have spoken more severely than he intended, for the servant paled and began to babble.
“My mistress and Mrs Gardiner have taken the children to the beach. Mr Gardiner and Mr Millhouse are in Haywards Heath. Miss Bennet is, I believe, calling on her sister.”
Not avoiding me, then.Just not where I need her to be.It was a relief, though perhaps even learning that much did not alleviate his ill humour enough to make him appear less fearsome, for the housekeeper continued to try and appease him with yet more information about the family. He wished she had not when her next words were, “Although I believe I heard it said that she would be meeting with Mr Hartham afterwards.”
His stomach dropped, and he clenched his jaw to prevent his face from betraying his dismay. “Is she well? Does she seem…out of sorts?”What the hell am I saying?“Miss Bennet. She had a cold. I trust she is recovered?”
The housekeeper regarded him as though he had sprouted a second head, no doubt as bemused by his questions as Darcy was to have asked them. “I heard her aunt say that she was still a little pale, but she is a hale lass. I daresay she will be well soon enough.”
Darcy nodded and thanked her, turning away before his muttered curse escaped his lips. Surely newly engaged people glowed with joy? Why was she pale—because she was still unwell, or because she was unhappy? Not knowing was torturing him. The idea that she had felt compelled to accept Hartham was abhorrent to him, but the prospect that his reckless kisshad distressed her enough to precipitate it had begun to burrow into his guts, making him feel permanently sick.
He wished he could turn back time, remain outside Saye’s cupboard, control his damned ardour. Had it been any other man’s arms into which he had sent her running, he could almost—almost—live with it. But she could not be happy with Hartham. Settled, perhaps. Content, possibly. But she would not be cherished in the way she deserved. She would never be trulyloved.
