The bed dipped under his weight as he sat on the edge and continued to undress himself. Sleep had claimed her consciousness until he lay down and pulled her roughly against him. He smelt of port and cigars, which made her stomach turn in displeasure.
“You looked so pretty tonight.”
Elizabeth could have laughed had she not been so nauseated. Was it not mere hours ago that he had remarked upon her haggard appearance?
A light snore tickled her ear, and she allowed her consciousness to drift when he spoke again.
“I have wanted to do this for so long.”
Yes. About twenty-four hours, she thought wryly as his hand moved to cup her breast. She could not help the moan that escaped her.
“Caroline?”
Elizabeth stiffened and dared not even breathe. Was her husband so drunk he had mistaken her for Caroline Bingley?
The hand on her breast stilled its gentle movement, and for that small mercy she was utterly grateful. His hand moved to her back, and with a forceful push she was propelled to the floor. It was a blessing that the thick rug had cushioned her fall or she might have been injured.
“Good riddance,” Darcy mumbled before the bed creaked as he turned away.
The quick change of location stunned Elizabeth, and she listened for movements from above whilst hardly daring to draw breath. What could he mean by shoving her out of her own bed? Was he disappointed to find his wife in his arms rather than Caroline Bingley?
The only sound she could hear was her husband’s gentle snoring. Bile rose precariously high in her throat. She could not force it down.
Elizabeth rose as silently as possible, begging the floor not to creak, and made it to the commode with a Herculean effort, where she lost the contents of her stomach. Even when it was completely empty, she continued to heave, and to her mortification, footfalls approached from behind.
“My dear, you are truly ill,” Darcy mumbled.
She hated it when he called her my dear. It was what her father called her mother when he was vexed, and she had told her husband repeatedly not to call her that. “Yes,” she managed to croak between the cramps.
“Good Lord! I cannot stomach the smell,” he cried and hastened away to his own chamber.
Good riddance,she thought, feeling only relief when the door to the master’s chamber closed with a distant thump. Soon after, she retched again, though not as violently as before. When utterly spent, she plodded back to bed.
Chapter 20 Hollow Inducement
13thJune
Elizabeth awoke to an empty bed and a churning stomach. She lay deathly still until her insides had settled, then pulled the bell for her maid.
She was late down for breakfast and enquired after her husband, who was, surprisingly, still abed.
When she was full, she went to the library to find something to read. She had not been there long before the knocker sounded.
“If you will wait in the study, I shall notify the master,” Mr Gilbert spoke to whoever had come to call.
“Yes, that would be agreeable.”
Elizabeth’s heart sank. To be subjected to rude and insulting remarks from people unconnected to her was disconcerting; it was an entirely different matter when it was family.
She had recognised the voice, and it did not bode well for her fluttering nerves. Judge Darcy had made no secret of his dislike of her; he thought her utterly and irrevocably unworthy of the Darcy name. He must have espied her through the open door because he entered and turned his jaundiced eyes upon her. It was a struggle not to shudder in revulsion.
“Judge Darcy, how do you do? I shall notify Mr Darcy that you are here.”
“Do you not have servants for that, madam?”
“Yes, well…I shall notify Mrs Murray and order refreshments.”
“Make sure to add pastries to the cold meat and cheese.”
