Chapter 14 #2
Curiosity won out. Curiosity as well as the surety that her husband, in wanting an audience, would have his audience.
Refusal was not possible for such a man as Darcy; what he wanted, he got.
It was necessary to plan carefully for this meeting.
She could not reveal the presence of Bennet nor did she wish him to know where they lived.
She wrote back, instructing him to meet her at the esplanade in front of Gloucester House. It was a very short walk, but she hired a chaise to take her, wanting to give the notion that she had travelled a distance.
She got there ahead of the prescribed time and was unsurprised to see he was already awaiting her. He stood with his back to her, staring out at the sea, and she approached him quietly, paying no mind to the small voice within that urged her to turn and walk away.
When she was near enough to touch him, she cleared her throat. He startled and then whirled about. She was glad she had surprised him.
But she was surprised too—surprised by the depth of emotion that arose in her heart.
Tears sprung to her eyes and were blinked back furiously.
Her breath came quickly, much too quickly for the short walk she had undertaken, and she paused a moment, trying to calm her jangling nerves.
She held a parasol to shield her from the sun, and it shook violently.
“Elizabeth,” he said, in a hoarse, reverential whisper. “It is you.”
“It is,” she said, pleased with the strength in her voice.
And before she could stop him, before she could do or say anything, he bowed, low and servile, over her hand, placing a gentle, scarcely felt kiss on the back of it that seared through her glove.
She did not yank her hand away as she might have wished—she was too amazed by his actions and, even worse, by her feelings.
He was so handsome, and she was struck by how much she still loved him.
She had tried so strenuously to avoid thinking of her husband these two years past, and when she did, she had struggled determinedly not to acknowledge the feelings that still remained in her.
Although she had garnered some measure of success, being in his presence completely undid her efforts, and the sudden great force of her love and her want for him threatened to knock her off of her feet.
“Is there someplace where we could go to talk privately?” he asked. “Are you staying nearby?”
She disregarded his question and gestured towards a nearby bench. He gave it a dubious look but did not argue.
When they were seated, Elizabeth stared at her lap, feeling Darcy’s eyes intent upon her. There was too much to be said to begin; evidently, he felt likewise for he was silent.
At length, she decided to ask that which she wished to know. “Do you intend to divorce me?”
“No,” he said immediately, sounding shocked at the very notion. “No.”
She nodded.
After another painful pause, he asked, “Why are you known as Mrs Elizabeth?”
“People presumed I was Mrs Macy’s relation, and I did not correct them. To prevent the confusion of two Mrs Macys, I became Mrs Elizabeth.”
“I see.” A slight breeze ruffled his hair as he looked down at the pavement beneath his feet. When he raised his head, naked agony was in his eyes. It both entreated and repulsed her. “Come back to Pemberley with me,” he whispered.
She was shaking her head before the words had been fully said. “I am sorry, but I cannot. I shall not.”
“I know I have made a horrible, dreadful mistake that has cost us—”
“Everything,” she said sharply. “It cost us everything. For whatever it was, it is not there now. We have nothing between us.”
“There cannot be nothing,” he argued, traces of his customary hauteur returning to him. “We are married, we—”
“Married? This is your notion of marriage?” Sudden, intense rage filled her.
“Of course not, no, I—”
“I was cast out, unprotected and alone, and I…I…”
Too much emotion filled her. She was nearly crying, almost screaming, and feeling an unaccountable impulse to vomit. Above all was the desire to flee, to run away from him and the contrariety of feeling that he excited.
“I need to go,” she gasped, rising.
“Elizabeth, wait—”
“No! I…I am sorry. Please, just…just forget me.” She had turned and was nearly running back to the hack chaise she had hired for the trip.
“But where can I find you again?” He ran behind her, grabbing her arm to stop her. “Elizabeth, please…you cannot know how I have searched for you, how I have missed you.”
She pulled her arm away from him. “People are staring.”
“Let them stare.”
“People here think my husband is dead. No doubt people think Mrs Darcy died as well.”
They stood for a moment, staring at one another until finally Elizabeth said, “Forgive me, but I cannot.” She then turned, entered the waiting hack chaise, and left him.
Georgiana Darcy and Kitty Bennet walked by the sea, Mrs Annesley strolling behind them. The day was fine and warm, and the walk was filled with people enjoying the sun. “I think I could live by the sea, could you?”
Kitty giggled. “I could indeed, though not if it meant I would marry Jolly Rollings!”
Georgiana chuckled at that but admonished, “He is a very eligible match for your sister!”
“That he is, though I do hope she finds him a valet who can tidy him up a bit.”
Georgiana’s eye was drawn by a small boy, a toddler playing in the sand, while a dark-haired, petite young woman watched over him.
He was a sweet little boy with a full head of dark, curly hair.
He seemed quite serious and intent on his task of digging a hole.
She tapped Kitty’s arm. “A handsome little boy, is he not?”
“Aye,” Kitty replied. “I saw him the other day with the same lady.”
They greeted the lady with a nod. She returned their greeting just as the boy dug a bit too vigorously, tossing a shovelful of sand onto her lap. The woman laughed and said, “Master Bennet, please do not bury me in the sand!”
The child looked up at the woman and giggled at seeing the sand he had tossed at her.
“Did she call him Bennet?” Georgiana asked Kitty.
“Surely not. Probably Benjamin. It is hard to hear when the breeze blows.”
Georgiana agreed but turned her head to look back. The toddler had gone to the lady and was trying to brush the sand out from her skirts, but his hands were so sandy, they only served to put on more. The woman laughed, then pulled the boy to her and kissed his head, whispering something in his ear.
Absorbed as she was in the little scene, Georgiana startled when she heard Kitty suddenly screech, “Lizzy!” She turned just as Kitty began to run towards a hack chaise that had recently let out a passenger, a lovely young lady who stood stock-still while her sister went careering towards her.