Chapter 29
The look Darcy gave Elizabeth when she came down for dinner that night made her catch her breath. For a moment, her knees trembled. Stumbling inelegantly against the table, she made a clumsy curtsey and managed a mumbled greeting.
In contrast, Darcy was irritatingly composed. He bowed gracefully, spoke clearly, and pulled her chair out for her so smoothly that the legs barely scraped against the floor. Elizabeth sat down, blushing, feeling her skin tingle with him standing so close. Then he was gone, and she could breathe out.
For the whole meal, while she struggled to find her voice, Mr. Darcy was impeccably polite. He spoke of the long walk he had taken around the grounds and apologised for not inviting Elizabeth to join him. It was cold, he claimed, and he was unsure if it would sleet. He preferred her to stay warm and comfortable in his… (he checked himself then, with a glance at the butler) ... house.
Elizabeth smiled and politely thanked him for his consideration.
Even when they were newlyweds, Lizzie could not remember her husband being this reserved. It was as if they were strangers, genteelly getting to know each other over a simple meal. Half an hour of it was enough to drive her to distraction. He keptlookingat her! And God forgive her, but she couldn’t help looking back. It was torture.
Darcy ran out of comments about the weather and resorted to searching the room for topics. An uneven candle in the candelabra provided him with a few minutes, then the design of the cutlery, and then the taste of the winter berries in their dessert.
I hope he chokes on it!Elizabeth thought savagely,Why won’t he talktome, instead ofatme?
Of course, she could have started the conversation herself… but her tongue was tied into knots. All she could do was nod, eat and drink large gulps of water whenever her head started to pound. Darcy was draining just as many glasses, she noticed uneasily, but they all seemed to be water, too.
By the time the meal was over and the silent servants left, Elizabeth was exhausted. Her confusion and irritation were too much for her headache to tolerate, and Darcy’s infallible poise was the final cut. Gritting her teeth, she stood up to leave.
Darcy stood up too, holding out a staying palm. “Wait, Elizabeth. I must speak to you.”
“Must you?” she exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from every word, “Well, it cannot be urgent. We have sat together for over an hour, sir, and you have not spoken of anything more interesting than the pepper pot! You have not even asked after my health, sir, as any gentleman ought.”
“I apologise. I thought that it was a question that would be embarrassing to answer in front of the servants, given the circumstances.” Darcy replied, narrowing his eyes against her scolding. “I do not want to give you another reason to lie to me.”
“I am a famous liar, sir.” she replied fiercely, “And I am going to bed.”
Darcy sighed and scratched his nose. “Please do not be angry at me, Elizabeth. I apologise. Let us start again: May I ask after your health, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Thank you forfinallyasking, sir.” Elizabeth raised her chin arrogantly into the air. He caught her eye and smiled, and she could not stay angry. She did not want to. Every inch of her soul wanted to reach for him - to understand what had happened, or to ask what was going to happen next… or even just to be held and told that he was still her friend.
Elizabeth lowered her head and returned his rueful smile. “I have a headache but am otherwise perfectly well. May I make the same enquiry, sir?”
“My head aches too, and I have never wanted to drink more badly in all my life.”
“But you did not.” Elizabeth nodded at the table, “Unless you had something before we sat down.”
“No. I am sober.” he did not look particularly happy about that fact but said the words with some pride. “The day after is always the worst, I have found. Especially when I feel guilty.”
“I must share some of the guilt, sir. If I had not mocked you yesterday, and goaded you into drinking more, then perhaps things would be different.”
“It was not your fault. Christ himself could not have kept that decanter from my hand. His angel, however, found a very efficient way to rid me of it!” Darcy smiled, and Lizzie felt the last tension between them ease. He beckoned her back to her seat and then sat beside her, taking his hands in his.
“Elizabeth, I do not feel guilty about drinking. I certainly do not intend to let it happen again, and I am furious with myself for doing it - but that is not why I am out of sorts today. I must apologise to you for how I behaved last night. Please believe that I did not intend to… that had I been sober, I would never have compelled you to… ugh. I have been trying to find words for this all day, and still, they will not come.”
“Then be blunt.” she suggested quietly. “I shall not be offended by honesty.”
Darcy studied her for a moment and then nodded. “Very well. I should not have treated you like I did. I should not have allowed you to get drunk. I should not have taken you into my bed. Most of all, I should not have touched you.”
“Why not? I am your wife.” she pointed out, trying to sound reasonable. She knew at once that it was the wrong thing to say. Darcy’s face darkened. He did not release her hands, but his eyes flinched away from hers as if she had blinded him.
“I wanted it to be your choice.” his voice was a hoarse, furious whisper. “Damn it, but I wanted you to have that, at least. How I congratulated myself from rising above the disgusting rights our marriage gave me! A vain, arrogant belief, for I failed you the very first time it was put to the test.”
Elizabeth cautiously picked her path through that stream of self-loathing. His words had struck her like a tolling bell, hurtful and ominous.
She had been right; he had hated it.
Lizzie cleared her throat and tried to reassure him: “It was not disgusting, sir. If you are torturing yourself for the sake of my pleasure, then there is no need.”
