Page 192 of The Mistress of All & Torn

“Do not look so appalled, my dear. You must consider the next stage of your life. You will have countless options, and your only concern should be to decide wisely and to choose the man best suited to you.”

“It is too soon to even consider such a matter. Should we not go to sleep now? It is late and I believe we are both tired.”

Lady Kendal did not insist, and Elizabeth withdrew to her room in some haste. There was nothing for her to consider, as her choice had long been made. There was only one man in the world suited to her. If it could not be him, there was nobody else.

The recollections of the evening invaded her as soon as she closed her eyes. And then older memories, sweeter and more painful, followed. Tender like caresses, gentle like embraces, soft like his lips, whose flavour she remembered so vividly and longed to feel again.

Sleep eventually defeated her, but restlessness remained, disturbing her dreams and exhausting her body and her mind even more.

∞∞∞

Darcy filled his cup of coffee for the third time, but the black liquid that should awaken his senses and remove some of the unbearable tiredness seemed to be ineffectual.

He should have become accustomed to the lack of sleep and the tiredness, since he had not slept an entire night since the dawn when he had left Elizabeth on the beach in Brighton. Since he had held her in his arms, ready to give herself to him entirely, just as he was ready to give himself to her. But both knew they could not defy their own promises, their sense of honour, their care for innocent, blameless people who depended on them. They both knew their love—ardent, deep, complete, consuming, devastating—could not find fulfilment that summer, that night, in that place. It had to wait until its time would finally come, and they—he—could only hope that the fire would remain alive and strong over the months, perhaps the years.

Loving Elizabeth and discovering that her feelings were equally powerful, he was trapped, caged, torn between the selfish desire to bond himself to her and his genuine wish to see a good man like Philip Russell improving, becoming healthier, living a good life.

He knew—she had told him as much and he trusted her with his life—that if Philip had not been so ill she would never have married him. Lady Kendal and Lord Alveston himself had admitted as much. But since she had entered into the engagement and had given her word to both him and his grandmother that she would marry him, Elizabeth could not—would not—take it back. It hurt Darcy to know that he could only be happy with Elizabeth after Philip died, and the news of the young earl’s death pained him. He had kept his distance from Elizabeth—although many times he had walked past their house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He had spotted her in the carriage with Lady Kendal. He knew she had visited his sister, his cousin, and his aunt, and he was aware that he could have called on her and Lady Kendal. He had not doubted his reception, but he had imagined their suffering and their grief, and his care for Elizabeth and worry for her tranquillity had been stronger than his longing to see her, to be near her. What had comforted him the most was the obvious affection and mutual respect between Elizabeth and Lady Kendal—who treated her like a daughter or granddaughter.

The news that Elizabeth would attend Bingley’s dinner party had thrown him into the middle of a storm of turmoil. And when he had found himself in the same room as her, his strength had melted away, his breathing had stopped, and his heart had pounded. He had watched her torment, her paleness, her thin cheeks, and her sad eyes which had lost their sparkle. Then, with thrill and admiration, he had listened to her reply to Caroline Pemberton’s rudeness. He had been tempted to intervene further, to protect her from any trouble, but he had known she would be embarrassed by him being overly protective. Besides, she was bright, decided, and self-confident enough to fight anyone and to defeat Caroline—Bingley or Pemberton—at any time.

And he had spoken to her—directly, privately, face to face, so near that he could catch her scent. She had allowed him to understand that her pleasure in seeing him was greater than her distress at his presence. For that little knowledge, he was grateful.

Lady Kendal had encouraged him to visit them. She had even mentioned that they would need his opinion in regard to a new charitable venture they were planning on opening. The invitation was so tempting that he checked his pocket watch several times, wondering if and when he should call or at least send a card.

When he finally gathered his courage and found a pretext to visit Lady Kendal, his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived precisely as he was leaving the house.

“Forgive me, Richard, but I was just leaving. I am going to visit Lady Kendal. Would you like to join me?”

“No, I am going to my club and I hoped you would come too. But I will accompany you there,” the colonel said, walking by his side. “Do you have some business with her ladyship?”

“I am not certain, but she mentioned she needed my opinion on some affair.”

“Well, please convey my best regards to both ladies. Lady Alveston looked a little different but still lovely enough. I often recall the lively and lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet that I met in Kent three years ago.”

“She must have changed, considering the ordeal she has been through, watching her husband dying slowly, day by day,” Darcy replied. “I have great admiration for Lady Kendal—just imagine how difficult it must have been for her to helplessly witness her daughter and her grandson perish from such a terrible illness. Such strength of character is extraordinary.”

“Indeed. As soon as Lady Alveston completes her mourning, she will become one of the most desirable women in town, and she will be surrounded by plenty of suitors. I wonder if Lady Kendal will have a say in the choice of her next husband.”

Darcy glared at him and frowned with displeasure. “We should not discuss such frivolous subjects in regard to two ladies that are still in mourning. It is as impolite as it is improper.”

“Come now, Darcy, do not be so bad-tempered. We should be able to discuss anything between ourselves. And I only spoke the truth. Lady Alveston will be the centre of attention. Her wealth, her connections through Lady Kendal, as well as her beauty and wit, make her most desirable, even for men of the highest rank. Do you disagree?”

“I do not, but I am not comfortable carrying on such a conversation,” Darcy concluded, grateful and relieved to have arrived at his destination.

The colonel left and Darcy knocked on the door with a sharp grip in his heart. Yes, he was painfully aware that Elizabeth would be one of the most desirable women in London, and hearing his cousin voicing the obvious only increased the sharp jealousy that grew inside him.

The servant who opened the door welcomed him with polite familiarity, and he briefly wondered when he had last been there. He was invited into the library, where Elizabeth and Lady Kendal were talking to Mr Gardiner and their solicitor.

The first thing he noticed was Elizabeth dressed less formally than usual, wearing a grey dress and her hair caught in only a few pins. She saw him too and blushed with apparent embarrassment.

“Mr Darcy! What a pleasant surprise, sir!” Lady Kendal exclaimed. “Please come in.”

“Lady Kendal, Lady Alveston…I apologise for my impromptu visit. I shall not bother you long. I have just come to offer you my services if they are needed.”

“My dear sir, please enter and have a drink with us,” Lady Kendal insisted. “We were in the middle of a discussion. We wish to find the most efficient way to finance an orphanage in Surrey. Have I mentioned it to you?”

“Yes, you have. Does the estate have tenants at present?” Darcy enquired, taking a seat. Soon, he was engaged in discussion, his interest entirely caught. Lady Kendal sat near him and so did Elizabeth, providing him with the details. He forgot that he had intended to stay only a few minutes, and time passed unnoticed, but not for an instant did he remain oblivious to Elizabeth’s closeness. Her scent made him dizzy, and her voice startled him with every sound. Only the second glass of brandy calmed him slightly and allowed him to express himself intelligibly and coherently, and made the warmth within him bearable until the end of his visit.