Darcy inhaled sharply. But then he looked confused, although his cheeks were still red. “If that is true, why would that condemn you? All it might do is embarrass you.”
She rushed to explain before she lost her nerve. “All of those thoughts were on a single page. I never mentioned you by name—Icould have been writing about any man. Wickham has my hair ornament and a record of my indecent thoughts about a man. He said he would tear out the last page as proof and tell everyone we were having an affair, that I wrote a licentious letter to him, yearning for him rather than you, and that I gave him the aigrette as a love token.”
Darcy stared at her, and it was clear his mind was racing. “The banknote from your pin money?”
Her husband, angry as he was, was clever. “I had to get them back,” she whispered. “I could not let him hurt you more than he already had.”
“But then he wanted more.”
It was a statement, not a question. “I took another twenty-five from the cash box in your desk yesterday.”
His mouth fell open. He looked at the desk but did not bother to get up and check. “You stole from our household accounts?” A look of shock diffused over his face, and the shame of it crushed her. “But of course you never got your items back.”
“No. He wants fifty pounds a quarter, else he will tell everyone we are having an affair, that it began in Ramsgate, that I married you for your money and he married your sister for hers, but since he was disappointed there, there was no reason not to continue with me. He made a scene on the doorstep and the servants will know he was here. And your friend Mr Melrose saw us together when I made the last payment, so I cannot even say I never met with him. I am certain that is what Mr Melrose wishes to speak to you about on Monday.”
Her tears flowed again, but even through her watery vision, she saw the emotionless look on Darcy’s face. He stared at her for a long time before asking, in a low voice, “Why did you lie to me?”
“I was afraid,” she cried.
“You were more afraid of Wickham’s gossip than lying to your husband?” he said in disbelief. “It is the senseless talk of a villain. Did you think I would not believe you? That I would divorce you on his word alone?”
“Not on his, but on society’s. You cannot move in this society with a wife suspected of being an adulteress. With gossip, how much issupposition or the opportunity to be the centre of attention? Facts do not matter!”
“You should have been more concerned about being honest with me than about whispers and newspaper mentions.”
She threw up her hands. “We came to town specifically to quiet negative talk about you, and that was only when you married suddenly after your sister married poorly. Being above reproach was the one thing I had to do! Gossip is always repeated, whether or not it is true. If I am thought to be an adulteress, our lives are over. You either divorce me and are pitied for having an unfaithful wife, or we stay together and we are both scorned—me for being an adulteress and you for tolerating it. And either way, you despise me for leading us down this path. He could ruin your good name and our marriage with what he has!”
She saw in his face that he agreed with her opinion on the fickle nature of popularity, but then he huffed and said, “You thinkhecould ruin our marriage? Elizabeth, you have done that yourself by lying and stealing.”
Sweat filmed her skin as her heart raced. Even if he did not divorce her, he would never forgive her for keeping this from him. She was quite oppressed, but she had no tears left.
He rose suddenly, his jaw set as he shook his head to himself. “I warned you! Wickham will exploit any generosity. He will never stop asking us for money and treat my sister more terribly than he might have. Not only that, but you gave him the perfect opportunity to manipulate you. And then you continued to dig yourself further into a hole of deceit and corruption. Why did you not tell me?”
“You underestimate the power of your disapproval, the fear of it!”
He started in surprise, but the darkness returned to his eyes. “And is this better? To go against my wishes and what we agreed to? To lie again and again? To steal? Elizabeth, we married after we knew one another a week, but my God, I hardly know you at all.”
His words were flat and final. Darcy hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house.
Her heart was broken, but along with the pain, there was a reliefthat had been missing for the past week. One immense burden was lessened, although a new one took its place. The secret was out, but he would never forgive her, let alone love her.
She went up to her room and collapsed in bed, full of thoughts of everything that had happened, her nerves still agitated by the shock of such an encounter. She had never been so aware of her own misjudgment, had never had another person so rightfully furious with her.
Darcy would never pay him. Wickham would say she was unfaithful, and then Darcy would have to divorce the adulteress for anyone to believe he was a man of integrity. With their marriage being conducted in Scotland, it would be even faster than he could do here in England. In her most hopeful imaginings, perhaps he would not divorce her. Perhaps the shame of divorce was worse to him than being despised and pitied. But if he looked at her with such disdain, then he may as well divorce her and send her away. Either way, her marriage was over.
No feeling of happiness could ever again enter her heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
His cousin took one look at his face when Darcy lurched into his rooms in the Albany and sent the servants away and poured him a glass of whisky. Fitzwilliam then listened in silence while Darcy, not very coherently, explained the current sad state of affairs. His wife had lied to him and nearly embroiled them in scandal.
“You have said nothing,” Darcy muttered after he finished the entire tale.
Fitzwilliam blew out a breath. “Well, you have drunk nothing.”
He set down the full glass. “I feel absolutely sick all over.” No wonder Elizabeth could scarcely eat this week. They were both sick to death over her deceit, but it was not a pain they could share. She felt guilt, and he felt betrayal, and he did not know how to move forward.
“I suppose the first thing to address is, do you believe her?” Fitzwilliam asked. “Or do you think she had an affair with Wickham and spun this story because the truth would come out?”
