Page 141 of The Mistress of All & Torn

“What is it, my lady? Please let me know. You must not conceal anything from me.”

“My dear,” Lady Kendal reluctantly continued, “I do not for a moment doubt your devotion and loyalty. But you must know that if something happens and we lose you—if Philip loses you—he would not have the strength to overcome such sorrow.”

Elizabeth smiled with all her heart. “Such a worry you may easily dismiss. It is not even worth speaking of, as it could never happen.”

“Thank you, dearest,” Lady Kendal whispered, bringing Elizabeth’s hands to her heart.

Moments later, she regained her composure and asked the coachman to change direction. “I almost forgot—we must stop at the modiste. I ordered some presents for your sisters and mother. And for you. Nothing much, only some bonnets and reticules and some light gowns for the summer. Now would be a convenient time to collect them.”

Elizabeth shook her head in disapproval, trying to oppose her ladyship, but soon abandoned the attempt. It was Lady Kendal’s small pleasure, and any argument was futile.

“I hope you and your family will enjoy staying in Brighton for the summer,” Lady Kendal uttered. “The Gardiners are delighted, that I know.”

“My mother and younger sisters would like nothing better,” Elizabeth declared. “And even Papa might like reading in the sea breeze.”

“What about you, my dear?”

Elizabeth hesitated a moment, fighting some unexpected grip in her chest.

“I have adored the sea from the moment I laid eyes on it as a child. I always dreamt of spending more time at the seaside, and now you have given me the chance to do so. I am sure I shall be happy in Brighton,” Elizabeth concluded, the grip still lingering in her heart.

Chapter 10

For days, Darcy had done little else but wait for time to pass so he could leave town. The moment he had touched Elizabeth’s ungloved fingers had tortured him ever since. He had avoided any possible further encounters with her so had rarely left his house. Georgiana told him they had met Elizabeth and Jane for tea and mentioned the pleasant time they had spent together. He did not enquire further.

He had to keep his mind occupied every moment or his thoughts about Elizabeth invaded it. He was worried about her, but also jealous, torn between hoping she had been forced to enter that marriage, or wishing her to be happy with a man she truly loved. Even if that man was not him.

He knew he would readily respond to any call from her—or from Lady Kendal—but he hoped it would never occur. He admired Lady Kendal’s charity work—especially the two hospitals—and intended to offer a significant donation. Under different circumstances he would have committed more, offering his personal involvement. But Elizabeth was part of it, and each meeting made him painfully aware of what he had lost. He had to keep himself at a safe distance.

He prayed to see her again yet dreaded such a moment. He knew not what he wished for and did not dare consider it thoroughly. What use could it have since he had no choice? She would marry soon, as would he.

The sound of heavy knocking on the door startled Darcy and returned him abruptly to reality. So bemused was he that he had no time to respond before Colonel Fitzwilliam barged in, requesting brandy.

“You look rather tired,” Darcy said simply.

“So do you,” the colonel mocked him. “But at least I have the excuse that I have not slept all night. What excuse do you have?”

“Another party? Are you not weary of it already?” Darcy asked as a maid brought in a tray.

“Not at all. These are the last days in town. After that, everybody will depart to the country and I shall not see them until the autumn. I cannot refuse any invitation. I have plenty of time to sleep later,” the colonel said jovially.

“How honourable of you,” Darcy said dryly. “So, should I presume that you will have some quiet, peaceful weeks in Brighton, with only rest and sea bathing?”

The colonel threw him a puzzled glance. “Why would you presume such a thing? Half of high society will be there. I expect to spend a rather animated time in Brighton. And I hope to convince you to join me.”

“I am in no mood for parties, Cousin.”

“You are in no mood for anything, Darcy. We are all worried about you. And I must say Aunt Catherine had a valid point in asking you to set a wedding date. You have kept Anne tangled in your uncertain plans for a year now.”

“I do not hear Anne complaining,” Darcy said. “Did she say something to you?”

“No. I suspect she is simply content to be away from Rosings. She appears to be thrilled about staying at the seaside for the summer.”

“If both Anne and I are satisfied with the present situation, why are we even having this discussion?”

“Because, unlike Anne, you do not look thrilled by anything, Darcy. Not even pleased. I have not heard you laugh in ages. Georgiana is worried too. What is happening? What troubles you?”

“Nothing. I doubt my behaviour is any different from usual. I am pleased that Anne and Georgiana are happy to stay in Brighton. I am also pleased that you will join us. I have rented the house where my mother used to stay years ago. It has a convenient position near the Steyne, with a lovely sea view and good access to the promenade. I trust this will provide a pleasant time to everyone and will benefit Anne’s health. What more do you expect of me?”