“Darcy,” his cousin said, “it will be dark soon. Do you want to join me in escorting Mrs Sullivan home?”
“No, I am going to walk the park again,” he said quietly. “I will see you both at Lady Courtney’s.”
His cousin gave him a sad look, and Elizabeth saw that Colonel Fitzwilliam knew exactly who Darcy was waiting for. Her heart broke for him all over again, and she wanted to help him recover his spirits.
“Mr Darcy,” she said, laying just two fingers on his sleeve to keep him from leaving. He flinched, and Elizabeth dropped her hand in shame. “I wanted to say, well, that I am?—”
“Miss Eliza,” called Miss Bingley. “Please let us not keep Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth curtseyed and ran to join her friends, but not without a few backwards glances at how Darcy paced the northeast corner of the park, looking for a woman who would never appear.
She would have to write one last time as L, to apologise for hurting him and come up with some explanation why she had not appeared, one that would put no blame on him.
All the way back to Cheapside, Elizabeth regretted what she had lost. She had shown such foolish solicitude for Wickham—and such resentment toward Darcy—when it was Darcy who was the good man. Wickham was a scheming liar, and Darcy’s only crime was his reserve and selfish pride. And the latter he seemed willing to mend. Perhaps a woman like Mrs Sullivan would be the one to benefit from that improved manner and make him happy.
Elizabeth might have been happy with Darcy, but there was no hope for that now.
Chapter Ten
Darcy sat in his dressing room the next morning, a breakfast tray ignored on the table and the coffee in his cup grown cold. His mind could not stop passing over the mortification he had endured yesterday. He was also thunderstruck by how saddened he felt by L’s abandonment. He was certainly not unaccustomed to life’s disappointments, but this hurt more than he ever expected such a rejection could hurt.
He had been enthusiastic to meet L, both for her own sake and for the expectation of forgetting Elizabeth. It was an insult to be forsaken this way, but this heartache was harder to bear.
His door opened, and Fitzwilliam entered unannounced. They had free rein over one another’s homes, but it still surprised him to see his cousin at so early an hour.
“I thought you had a late night at that rout with Mrs Sullivan,” he said, gesturing to the other chair at the table.
“I did,” Fitzwilliam said, looking at the coffee pot but changing his mind when he realised it was cold, “but you probably had a late night pacing and thinking and distressing, so here I am to ensure you do not make yourself miserable.”
Darcy smiled faintly. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“You came to check on me, but you came with an opinion as well.” Darcy sighed and held open his hands. “I am ready to hear it.”
Fitzwilliam pointed at him. “Since she played you false, I say revenge is in your power.”
“That is not amusing.”
He muttered an apology. “I was only trying to cheer you. But perhaps this is a better way.” Fitzwilliam handed him a sheet. “This is the updated subscription list. There are more names than there were a fortnight ago. For all the town talk against it, privately there seems to be more approval.”
Darcy idly looked down the list. “I do not want to recover by impulsively throwing myself at another woman.”
After a thoughtful pause, his cousin said, “Perhaps L’s guardians learnt about the scheme and prevented her from coming?”
Darcy reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter that had come in the first morning post and handed it to Fitzwilliam. “No, she chose not to come.”
Tuesday, February 11, 5 o’clock
My dear friend,
You must question my salutation and wonder if you are indeed dear to me after what happened yesterday. I have inflicted pain on you, and you must resent me for it. It would be natural after I insisted on the strange meeting and then failed to appear.
I would be all anxiety to learn that you hate me for it, although, to be honest, I fear that you do. I hardly know what explanation I can give that you would accept. Please know that my reluctance had everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. Fear and anxiety overcame me, and all I can say is that I no longer think a meeting is wise. I can admit to this paper, that might be burned before your eyes even read it,that while writing I felt an attraction to you and an interest in your happiness, and when it came time to meet, I was afraid to follow through.
I suspect you cannot forget my offence against you. If I have lost your good opinion, be sure to know that I recognise the value of what I have lost. And if you do not reply and wish to end our correspondence forever, know that I will always consider myself,
Your affectionate friend,
