Every single time - just when she was feeling confident in her new role - she did something to spoil it. She went from being the assured lady of the house to being an ignorant intruder.
Complacent was the word for it. Elizabeth ground the heels of her hands into her forehead. She had let her pride and arrogance get the better of her every single time.
Lizzie let out a shuddering sob and rested her head on her knees. Stupid, stupid Elizabeth! Mrs. Darcy was a mere figment of her imagination. She could barely dohalfof that illustrious fiction’s duties, and even those attempts were pathetic.
Elizabeth watched the sun set without moving to draw the curtains. The sounds of evening insects and sleepy birds began.A few moths fluttered into the room, tempted by the tiny midges that had followed the firelight. There was no need to reach for her novel. Elizabeth did not want to sleep. She only wanted to be alone.
A knock on the adjoining door made her yelp in surprise. Her unbidden cry was apparently understood as an invitation, for the door clicked softly open. Elizabeth shut her eyes and pressed her forehead back onto her knees.
“Go away.” she said in a muffled voice, “Please. I do not want you here.”
“Elizabeth…”
“Am I Elizabeth again, Mr. Darcy? When last we spoke I was only ‘madam’. I was barely even that! Perhaps I deserved it - perhaps I did not - but I have no wish to consult you on the matter. Please respect my wishes and leave.”
He did not answer. Elizabeth’s head shot up like a puppet pulled on a string. She was ready to shout - toscreamat him again and disgrace herself once more! The expression on his face stopped her.
“My God,” she whispered in a single, stunned breath, “You aresober!”
“Yes.”
“Only because I hid the wine.” she realised bitterly. “Not by choice.”
A hoarse, humourless laugh startled her. Darcy stepped forwards, not towards her but to the dressing table. Something wentclink.
“By choice.” Darcy said softly.
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped.
It was a key.
Darcy watched her struggling for a moment and then smiled. It was not a genuine smile, but a strange strained rictus that did not make him look any more approachable.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t have the keys for my own house, Elizabeth?”
Lizzie sat up straighter, amazement and indignation giving her strength.
“Mrs. Reynolds said that there were only two!”
“For all she knows, there are. She does not know everything.”
For some reason, that unlikely fact felt more shocking than the sight of the key. Elizabeth foundered for a reply, found none, and instead bunched her hands senselessly in her blanket. It was the green one from her old room, and the knots on it were getting slightly felted from use. Utterly her own, it soothed her racing thoughts.
Darcy stood awkwardly beside the table, not meeting her eyes, and Elizabeth suddenly felt a great surge of love for him. It was strong enough to make her chest ache, as if her heart was truly reaching for his past the prickly barriers of their harsh words and stilted silences. How desperately she wanted him to be happy! How wretched he looked! Quashing her pride, she gestured vaguely at the end of the bed for him to sit down.
How intimate it was!
Elizabeth scooted backwards shyly and pulled the blanket over her nightgown. This was her husband, who had after all been inside herperson.Why did it feel like such a violation for him to be inside her room? Please God he would not comment upon herdiscarded stockings on the floor! She would rather he saw her naked than set eyes upon her under things!
Darcy did not sit down. He stayed beside the table and shook his head.
“Thank you, my love, but I shall not… um.” Darcy looked up at the ceiling in search of words and then brought them down with him. “You did not want me here, and I certainly did not come here with a mind to coerce you otherwise. I just wanted to…” he waved a hand in the general direction of the key and finished weakly, “It is a gesture.”
“I am not coerced.” Elizabeth promised, “I… erm... thank you, for being so cognisant of the…”
“I respect you.” he interrupted brusquely. “I should act accordingly. I cannot forbid you for writing to your friends. I cannot intrude upon your privacy or assume your consent. I cannot…” he took a deep breath and picked up the key, “I certainly cannot be angry that you kept secrets from me, when I have been lying to you since the day we arrived. Take it, angel. There are no others.”
Elizabeth stared at it, flinched when he seized her unresisting hand and pressed the key into her palm. It was cold and slippery; his hand was hot and rough.
