Page 48 of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Exile

Elizabeth twisted her hands. “It would only be fair of me to do so. He is equally obligated.”

“That is very honorable of you, but permit me a moment of impertinence…” Charlotte impertinent? Intriguing! “Would you be willing to give up your future as the mistress of Mr. Darcy’s fortune and properties for a gentleman whom you know to be your match in wits and capability as well as in compassion and affection?” The hope flaming to life at the possibility that Robbie returned her affection was reply enough. Elizabeth had repeatedly told herself she only thought of him as a friend, a gentleman she esteemed, and nothing more. But it was a lie she told herself.

“Oh, Charlotte! What am I supposed to do? Mr. Darcy is not here and may not want me once he learns about the scandal attached to my family. Even if he marries me to keep his inheritance, how will he ever love me when I have already been so much trouble… and when I suspect that my heart belongs to another?” Her chin quivered and she clenched her fingers into a tight fist. She would not cry!

No, she would be angry. Why did her friend have to ask these questions? “Please, say no more on the subject. I feel wretched enough, and talking about it makes it worse.”

Charlotte leaned back, her expression pensive. “Truth is painful. I would not be a good friend if I allowed you to live in denial when you always have a choice.”

“How do I have a choice? If only I could have met Mr. Darcy before”—she bit her tongue before she ended that sentence with Robbie. “If only we had somehow met as strangers, I could have learned his character without the taint of the arrangement poisoning my view. But now…” She shrugged, hopeless.

“Part of me wishes you would refuse to play this unjust game you were thrown into and marry for love. Let your father assume responsibility and allow your mother and sisters to experience discomfort without you there to protect them like princesses.”

“Charlotte!”

“They are spoiled, Lizzy. Not one of them would sacrifice their happiness for you. I doubt they would even do so for each other. Well, perhaps Mary would, but certainly not the rest. If your father’s great fault is negligence, theirs is complacency. Any one of them could have shown some industry and initiative.” She continued, stifling the justification on Elizabeth’s lips. “You are the only one with a guaranteed future, and yet, look at you! You manage Longbourn better than most gentlemen trained to shoulder such a load. Your efforts would have secured the continued comfort of your mother and sisters, even if you had refused to marry Mr. Darcy. Is that not why you did it?”

Elizabeth hung her head. That had been her motivation all along… for all the good it did her now. She had worked hard to give herself a choice, to have something to offer her mother and sisters so she would not have to marry Mr. Darcy unless she decided it was something she really wanted. But her entire family had grown too dependent on the arrangement. All those years of work, and Elizabeth still could not benefit from it. “That makes it worse, Charlotte. My choice is gone, and now I must do exactly as my family expects just to retain the little that is left of our dignity.”

“No, you do not.”

“I cannot leave them to suffer the consequences⁠—”

“Of their own inaction,” Charlotte interjected.

“—when I might help them.”

Charlotte shook her head slowly, her eyes full of pity. “When will you allow them to help themselves?”

“They do not do anything!”

“Then let them feel the effects of their inaction. Lizzy, you cannot be responsible for everyone else! If you continue to spare them, when will they learn? How will they learn to run their own households… especially if they are forced to marry below their station and must economize? They will become a burden to you, and you will come to resent them. Is that what you want?”

“Stop, please stop.” Elizabeth wanted to cover her ears and squeeze her eyes shut. There was enough truth in Charlotte’s words to sting, but how could her friend expect Elizabeth… or her sisters… to change at the snap of her fingers? To withdraw her support right now seemed cruel. Perhaps she had done too much, but she did it because she loved them and wanted to see them happy. Surely they would do the same for her?

“Just tell me one thing, and then I promise never to breathe another word on the subject.” Charlotte watched, waiting for her. Elizabeth was too curious to do ought but nod despite her wariness of the question. “What is the worst that could happen if you married for love rather than obligation?”

A thousand objections came to mind, but when Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, not one crossed her tongue.

Smiling softly, encouragingly, Charlotte said, “I warrant that the reality is not as bad as you have convinced yourself to believe.”

Better than ruination, poverty, and prison? Elizabeth was unable to imagine any other outcome.

CHAPTER 27

Elizabeth sat by the window for a long time after Miss Lucas left. Darcy wanted to go to her and ask what troubled her, but her older sister had interfered. It was a pattern he had especially noticed over the last three days. Darcy already compared Miss Bennet to a dragon in his mind, and every time she sent him on some pointless errand for her father confirmed his comparison.

Unable to comfort Elizabeth and growing increasingly frustrated, Darcy sought out his favorite exercise of late. Whoever stayed on at Longbourn would have an impressive pile of chopped wood and kindling. Darcy’s hands blistered and bled, and still he chopped.

The exertion had just begun to warm him enough to take off his coat when he saw Mr. Wickham ride up the path to Longbourn with another rider. Darcy imagined a flutter of activity inside the drawing room—cheeks being pinched, skirts smoothed, ribbons adjusted, curls patted into place…

He looked back up at the approaching riders, his heart stopping as he identified the second man. It was Richard. Devoid of his usual smile, he appeared angry, thunderous. And scared.

Good God, what had happened? Why was he here? Darcy blinked at him, receiving a hard look in response. A warning. For what? Darcy did not know what game he was trapped in, much less the rules, yet he must not make any mistakes in this strange situation.

Wickham tipped his hat jovially at Darcy, handing the reins to Johnny, who ran out to take them. What was the villain so happy about? Darcy wished he knew, but he could not allow Wickham to sense his curiosity. Best to suggest indifference, aloofness rather than what Wickham would expect. Setting down his ax, Darcy tossed the last pieces of wood onto the pile, smacked his hands together, and turned to the house, going in through the kitchen door at the back rather than entering through the front entrance with Wickham.

“We have company,” Darcy informed the cook, who was standing over a steaming pot of something that smelled delicious.