“I suspect there is a fair amount of vengeance mixed in with your justice.”
He stopped pacing, and came forward, agitated. “Does that make me wrathful? Hateful?”
“Would it change your mind about consigning him to prison if I thought that it did?”
Mr Darcy deliberated in his own mind for a long moment. “Yes. I respect your judgement, and I desire your good opinion. But I can see in your eyes that, for all of my fears, I have not lost it.”
“Of course not.” She had not thought it possible to hate a man she had never seen, but she loathed this villain. Mr Darcy must hate him with a rancour she could never fully understand. “Mr Wickham is a dishonourable gamester and a seducer. He has borrowed and not repaid, and I suspect he borrowed without intending to repay. I think it an incredible expense, but you do nothing immoral by bringing him to account forthat. But will that be enough?”
A wry smile broke through his gravity. “I cannot shoot him from ten paces, so it will have to be.”
“I am in earnest. If the runners find him, will that satisfy you? You do have injuries to resent, a wish for justice is natural after what your sister suffered.” Georgiana was going to die from consumption, but having Wickham’s child hastened her death, and losing that child saddened her final months. And Mr Darcy lived and breathed that truth every day.Elizabeth watched him toy with his sister’s memorial fob. “But I fear that loathing this corrupter, as justified as it is, could eventually injure you.”
He shrugged. “My temper I dare not vouch for; I know that I can be resentful, but in this case, it is deserved.”
“I worry that you will never find peace. If I could have one thing for you before, before I shuffle off this mortal coil, it would be to see you free from this distress.”
“You wantmeto find peace? That is your one wish before your heart fails you?” He looked absolutely incredulous. “I cannot believethat to seemecontent is all that a woman of one-and-twenty might hope for before she dies.”
She gave a wry smile. “I have had to modify my hopes and wishes since receiving Mr Jones’s letter.”
“Be that as it may, I asked you before if there was anything I might do for you, anything you might like to have, and you refused. I cannot accept that.”
A desire that he kiss and embrace her in the fondest manner burst from her heart. Thankfully, this preposterous and unrequited sentiment was stopped by her rational brain before it could escape her lips. Elizabeth laughed and picked up her basket and walked toward the house. “You are not obligated to me for my friendship and kindness.”
He caught up to her quickly. “I do not offer out of obligation, but out of genuine friendship and attachment. We need not stay here. Is there any place you might like to see?”
She thought of all the places she had never seen and would never see, and how she had once had her heart set on seeing the Lakes. She sighed. The only place Mr Darcy needed to go was to his home, where he would eventually be happy again. “You cannot wish to return home now and introduce me to your friends and relations, and to the master of your estate. It is bad enough that you shall soon have to write to them all and say that you arrived in Portsmouth and married me as soon as you disembarked.”
“I do not mind that, not at all. Even if I do not take you to—even if I do not bring you home, you cannot want to remain near Longbourn, and Lydia only has so much of a claim upon you. Your Gracechurch Street relations are in Canada, and you do not wish to burden Jane with a visit before your death. But Mrs Darcy”—he reached for the basket to halt her progress—“is there nothing I might do for you?”
She again thought about the husband who grew dearer to her every day, and her great curiosity about the fine touches of the passion of love. He needed some manner of answer. He was a generous man, and a man accustomed to—through his own will, influence, or efforts—having what he wanted. And he seemed determined to show her any kindness or consideration she asked for.
“Let me carefully consider your offer before giving you an answer.”
“No,no, I insist on something modern. Darcy may hear whatever he likes after I leave tomorrow. I have had enough of these old Clementi pieces.” Colonel Fitzwilliam was turning the pages for Mrs Darcy and forcing the fair performer to not play pieces he knew Darcy preferred.
“There is a Beethoven sonata that belonged to Georgiana. I have given it little practice, but if irritating your cousin is your purpose more than being properly entertained, hand the sheet music to me.”
Fitzwilliam smirked at him over Mrs Darcy’s shoulder. Darcy allowed his cousin his fun, partly out of affection for him, but mostly because of the tender looks which Mrs Darcy now and then could not refrain from giving him as he listened.
I hope she chooses something that is in my power to give.He wished to do something to bring her joy before her inevitable end. Mourning Georgiana less every day and releasing some of his guilt in regard to his nephew had allowed him to properly consider his relationship with Mrs Darcy.
Theirscouldbe a relationship where they could disagree over the important as well as the trivial because what was underneath was secure. He had a much stronger passion for her than he previously admitted to himself. His heart now brought forth the full secret of how ardently he admired her. But he was far from an assurance that she had any such affection toward him. He could not allow his wanton fancy to roam unbound and be run away with by his lively imagination.
It is indecent to wish to go to bed with a woman without any regard for her sentiments for me.The thought ofthatmanner of relationship between them felt more possible with every passing day. But every day brought her closer to a sudden death from crippling heart pain.
Any further romantic or rational thought was suspended when he heard the doorbell. Lydia entered, and from the look of surprise—immediately reformed into one of welcome—on his wife’s face, he knew she had not been expected this evening.
“Tell me you did not walk here on your own! It is already seven and only a half moon tonight.”
“I fear for your safety, Lydia,” Darcy added before he rose to offer his seat to his sister. “You must allow me to walk you home tonight.”
“I need not remain long. An hour or two will do. I could not bear being there another moment. In no circumstances whatever would I keep company with only Mary and Mr Collins if I had any other choice. My mother took to bed early with some headache, and I with nothing to do but listen to their moralising!”
Colonel Fitzwilliam held back a laugh. “Your sister had been entertaining us. Should you like a turn to exhibit?”
“Oh, heavens no! I never learnt. Lizzy used to play at Longbourn, until Mary decreed that she could only practise before breakfast and if she asked permission first. She played pretty tunes, I thought. I think she was prohibited because Mr Collins called Lizzy accomplished, and Mary cannot stand to hear anyone play better than she did.”
