Chapter 23
Ben raced into the room—his face filled with anticipation and joy. “Da! While keeping watch from my fortress, I saw Uncle Carlton headed towards Netherfield. Did he come all this way to see me? He promised me he would. I should like to show him my fortress!”
“Ben, about your uncle—”
“Where is he? Perchance I missed him, and he is on his way to find me.” Ben hurried towards the door.
“Son, where are you going?”
“If I am quick about it, I may be able to catch up with him.”
The thought of his son racing after a man who did not even have the courage to say goodbye to his own nephew before leaving the country, perhaps forever, sent a shiver through Darcy’s body.
Standing, he crossed the room in long strides.
Closing the door, he took Ben by the hand. “Ben, come and sit with me.”
Ben slipped his hand away. “But what about my uncle? I like him very much, and I should hate to miss him.”
Darcy knelt to Ben’s eye level and placed his hands on Ben’s shoulders. “What I have to say has to do with your uncle. You see, Ben—”
Ben tore away and ran to the nearest window. “Have I missed him? Did he say when he would come back and see me?”
Darcy started walking towards Ben. “Your uncle is leaving the country. He is headed for the continent.”
“The continent—but that is so very far away. Did he say when he is to return?”
Once again by Ben’s side, Darcy lowered himself to meet Ben eye to eye once more.
“I do not know that he ever plans to return. He did ask me to tell you what a great honour it was for him to make your acquaintance and to tell you goodbye.” Although disguise of this kind was Darcy’s abhorrence, he felt this situation needed embellishment.
“He said he will miss you very much, and he will think of you always during his many travels.”
“But he must have written a letter. He would never leave without saying a proper goodbye—” Ben lowered his head, “would he?” In a soft voice reflecting a measure of pain mixed with resignation, Ben said, “I shall never see my uncle Carlton again.” After a moment of silence, he accepted Darcy’s embrace.
“I am sorry, son.”
Darcy could no longer see Ben’s face, but everything about his comportment gave Darcy to know that Carlton’s act had wounded his son.
Picking Ben up, Darcy carried him to the sofa, and then sat and held him close.
None of this met with any sort of protest on Ben’s part—a further testament to the pain he surely must have been suffering.
His liveliness … his high spirits … all the excitement so clearly evident just moments earlier was now gone.
Darcy’s heart sank right along with Ben’s.
That someone so young and innocent should suffer the pang of loss at so tender an age was unbearable.
His heart screamed at the injustice of it all, and not for the first time in his life, he swore that he would do everything in his power to make amends to his son.
Darcy ran his hand through Ben’s unruly curls and drew him even closer to his chest. He is so young and innocent, trusting and loyal.
How could anyone not love such a precious child?
Darcy swallowed hard. All I ever want to do is love and protect him—to keep him safe from harm.
Safe from pain—be it physical as well as emotional.
Darcy’s eyes misted. Now he is hurting and in a way that I have never seen him suffer, for it is from the sting of rejection.
The manner in which Carlton left without wishing to say goodbye to his nephew, his own flesh and blood, stirred Darcy’s ire once more. I say it is his loss. Darcy closed his eyes as all of Elizabeth’s admonishments about the man raced through his head.
If only I had listened. I fear I have failed our son. He placed a light kiss atop Ben’s head. “Never again,” Darcy said softly.
The events that had transpired earlier in that room flashed before his eyes—how Carlton had come to see him, offering to sell Camberworth in order that he might return to his former life on the continent unencumbered by a grand, cash-poor, estate and demanding tenants and the like.
It will make no difference at all telling Ben that he will be master of Camberworth when he comes of age.
What does that matter to a child? There was only one way of easing the pain of Ben’s broken heart—by telling him that he would soon see his uncle Carlton again.
That is the one thing my son needs to hear and the one thing I cannot say.
“Da?”
“Yes, Ben?” Darcy took Ben’s tiny hand in his. He gently squeezed it.
“Is Grandpapa Bennet close to getting better now?”
“I believe he is. The physicians attending him are optimistic, and your mother says each day brings him closer to his former self. He is communicating his needs—even beginning to speak. Would you like to visit him this afternoon?”
“I should like that very much, although my reason for asking if he is getting better has to do with something more.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed. I very much would like to go home. When shall we return to Pemberley?”