They sat together in that corridor for a long time, not speaking much, which was its own kind of language. At some point Elizabeth became aware that she was cold without her coat. She did not say anything. She did not need to. He shrugged off his jacket and set it on the chair between them without comment. She did not put it on. She did not move it either.
She had not thanked him for any of it. She had not known how to thank him without opening a door she had spent eight years keeping closed.
Instead, she allowed her mind to drift to her goddaughter. Mia had been on a school trip. Three hours upstate, a nature programme, not due back until sunday.
Elizabeth had called the school from the hospital and told them to send her back. Not asked. Told. A child could not spendthe night in a cabin in the woods not knowing her parents were gone. The head teacher had agreed. Within the hour, someone was driving Mia back to the city.
There was no one else to call. Charlotte's mother was in a care facility upstate, too frail and too far gone into her own private world to be reached by news like this in a phone call, and Richard had no immediate family left.
There was Elizabeth.
There was Darcy.
Darcy had stayed that first night. He had not cried. He had stood very still, jaw tight, speaking only when necessary. Once, on the phone, his voice had sharpened, controlled, precise, on the edge of something he refused to let through. He had mentioned that he had a meeting in the morning that had been months in the making. He couldn’t cancel it and had to fly out in the morning.
He had said it like a fact, not a choice.
Elizabeth had looked at him and thought, of course.
He left around one a.m.
Before he boarded, he sent a message.I’m making arrangements for Richard and Charlotte. You don’t have to stress.
He did not specify. He did not need to.
Mia came home exhausted and disbelieving. Elizabeth simply took her to her apartment and stayed, powerless, watching her cry until she could not cry anymore and then go quiet in a way that was worse.
Jane arrived with Bingley that afternoon, carrying food no one ate and filling the apartment with a kind of steady presence that did not ask questions. Elizabeth let Jane take over where she could. It was easier that way.
Darcy returned days later for the funeral, as he said he would.
The church was full. Elizabeth spoke because someone had to. She said the true things and not the unbearable ones, and sat down again without looking at the coffins.
Darcy sat two rows behind her.
She did not turn. She knew where he was anyway.
Afterwards, they moved through the same rooms and said almost nothing.
“How was the travel?”
“Fine.”
That was all.
He spent time with Mia, took her to an amusement park, and then on an ice cream date before announcing he needed to go on another trip and disappearing.
And now here he was, walking into the lawyer’s waiting room on a Thursday morning, looking exactly as he always looked, and she still had no idea why.
***
The lawyer's name was Mr Kellman, and he was the kind of man who had clearly delivered difficult news many times before and had learned to do it with a particular quality of gentle efficiency that Elizabeth found both reassuring and slightly unbearable.
He shook their hands. He offered water. He waited until they were both seated across from his desk before he opened the folder in front of him.
“I appreciate you both coming in,” Mr Kellman said. “And I want to begin by saying how very sorry I am for your loss. Charlotte and Richard were clients of this firm for many years. They were, if I may say so, two of the most thoughtful people I have had the privilege of working with.”
Elizabeth looked at the desk. Her throat had tightened in a way she did not intend to address.
