“Mrs Darcy, you have gone pale. May I escort you home?”
Agitation and alarm pressed on her and she could scarcely breathe. There was not enough air in her lungs to answer Wickham. She shook her head, standing stock still at the corner of the square by the entrance to Charles Street. She wanted to be as far from Wickham as possible, and keep him far from her home where Darcy or one of the servants might see them together.
“I am wanted elsewhere,” he said, amusement at her distress shining in his eyes. “Meet me here on Friday at the same time, with the same amount, and I will forget all about this—for a while.”
He touched his hat and turned the other way toward Devonshire House and Piccadilly. There was no way she could afford to buy his continued silence, but if she did not find a way, Darcy could lose his good name—and then she would lose him.
Darcy had invitedhis cousin to dinner with Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle, thinking he would need an ally by his side. Not that he would be rude to Mr and Mrs Gardiner. Elizabeth loved them, and so he must respect them. But he assumed they would neither be qualified to join in rational and entertaining conversation nor capable of listening with satisfaction to those who could thus converse, and so he made preparations accordingly.
But it was the best dinner engagement he had in a month of visits. He had expected an unfurnished mind in Mrs Bennet’s brother and a tedious woman as his wife. But Mr Gardiner was intelligent and amiable, and Mrs Gardiner was elegant and conversable. Within minutes of sitting round the table together, Darcy was certain he had found a friend in Mr Gardiner.
In fact, the three gentlemen had sat at the table for nearly an hour after the ladies retired, enjoying the mediatory powers of a bottle and good company. Finally, Mr Gardiner said, “I will join the ladies and let you younger men finish the last of the wine.”
Mr Gardiner was likely only five years older than Fitzwilliam. Darcy told him he must stay, but Mr Gardiner went to the door, saying with a laugh, “No, no. When you are an old married man like me, you will understand.”
When the door closed behind him, Fitzwilliam’s open expression fell to a glare. “I can see why you invited me. You needed me to carry the conversation with the dull and vulgar tradesman. How on earth could you have managed alone, and kept your equanimity too?”
Darcy felt the hit and bowed his head. “I thought he would be uncouth and breathe port wine in my face all evening without a word of sense in between each exhale.”
“No one said or did anything to the derision of anyone else,” Fitzwilliam pressed.
“He is greatly superior to his sister, likely as well by nature as education.” Mr Gardiner was gentlemanlike, and even a little teasing, like his niece.
“Mrs Gardiner is very sensible. If you saw them on the street, you would take them for people of fashion.”
“I know,” he said, regretting he had assumed the worst of them.They were nothing like Mr and Mrs Bennet. There was not one sardonic quip to cut, no vulgar behaviour to embarrass everyone.
“Well, it has been a fine evening so far,” Fitzwilliam said while pouring the last of the wine into his glass, “so why the pensive face?”
Darcy toyed with his empty glass. “I can envision happy family gatherings with them. And I am saddened that my sister will have no part in them.”
“Neither will Lady Catherine, so it is not all bad.”
“It is terrible,” he insisted. His sister throwing herself away on a syphilitic gamester, and his aunt wishing his wife would engage in an affair so he could divorce her? And Elizabeth’s parents were not the sort of people he, or even she, wanted to spend much time with. Family would look and feel different in the years ahead.
“But your wife is a credit to you,” Fitzwilliam said. “I know what your family pride means to you, and your hasty marriage has not damaged it. Take comfort in that and enjoy Mrs Darcy.”
He smiled weakly, keeping to himself that he was not sure if Elizabeth enjoyed him.
He had returned from fencing this afternoon to find his wife eager to avoid him. She had refused to talk with him, claiming to be too busy preparing for a family dinner for three guests. She had unbent a little for their guests, but throughout the meal there were moments when the veneer of cheerfulness faded. A faraway look would fill her eyes before she rallied.
“Did Mrs Darcy seem out of sorts to you tonight?” he abruptly asked.
Fitzwilliam started, then shrugged. “I do not know her well enough to say. She is perhaps less energetic than I saw at Pemberley and how she has been mentioned in society. But she is at home where she need not be on display and can be herself.”
He nodded, agreeing with the sentiment, even though he was not sure that was the case here. Elizabeth had always been bright and sparkling, even if they were alone together at home. “Maybe I am looking for things that are not there.”
“She looked paler, a little less radiant, perhaps,” Fitzwilliamconceded slowly. “I would have not noticed had you not mentioned it. Possibly she is ill but did not want to cancel the engagement?”
“I suppose,” he said, although the problem felt like Elizabeth was distracted rather than unwell.
It wasa relief to introduce Darcy to relatives she did not have to be ashamed of. But no matter how well everyone got along, Elizabeth could not be at ease. The guilt smothered her. The thought of her predicament pressed on her mind every moment, prohibiting the enjoyment of everything else.
No, it was not just the weight of the burden, but the shame of it. Every time Darcy looked at her, smiled at her, talked to her, it reminded her that she had been caught up in Wickham’s scheme, and whatever Darcy suffered because of it was all her fault. Darcy cared so deeply for his family name, and it was not a misplaced pride, either, and her choices put his good name into jeopardy.
She loved Darcy but could hardly look at him from shame.
Her company seemed to enjoy the meal, but she could not get down a morsel. The dinner went off with the satisfaction of everyone, and she was certain they would all be friends. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a welcome addition. Only Darcy’s friend Mr Bingley and her sister Jane could make it more complete.
