Chapter 4 Heated Tempers #3
With only Rory for company, I ventured out on one of my favourite paths as the sun crept over the horizon. My hope that Fitzwilliam would return to my room the night before had ended in disappointment, and my slumber had been fitful. It seemed I could no longer sleep well without him.
Aside from one overnight trip he had undertaken without me, we had slept apart just once before—when an argument had arisen over the subject of my walking alone around Pemberley.
Fitzwilliam had insisted I always take a servant with me, and I voiced my objection in a loud and strenuous fashion.
We had reconciled the next morning, reaching a compromise: I agreed to always inform one of the servants of my destination and to have Rory accompany me.
I had risen and dressed for my walk with no sign of Fitzwilliam. He usually woke before me, so he must have left—possibly to go to his study or out riding. I stopped at the nursery to spend half an hour with Bennet without encountering my husband and resisted the temptation to inquire after him.
The path brought me to a headland reminiscent of Oakham Mount, my beloved walking destination near my father’s estate in Hertfordshire.
I stopped to appreciate the prospect of the moorlands below before continuing downwards on the rocky, steep path at my usual swift gait.
My heated words with Fitzwilliam dominated my thoughts.
Had my accusation been unfair? I could not conceive of an unselfish reason for him to not tell his aunt and cousin his intentions.
Nevertheless, this family matter had originated long ago. Did I have the right to criticise his actions, or inactions, before we met? Perhaps I did, since the events of the past affected us now—and according to his aunt, Cousin Anne still suffered from disappointed hopes.
No doubt Lady Catherine had misrepresented her late sister’s wishes and deserved most of the blame for her daughter’s unhappiness.
But Fitzwilliam shared a portion of the culpability.
Why had he persisted in denying any responsibility in the matter?
As much as I loved him, I found it difficult to respect his views on this topic.
Bother—I never related Lady Catherine’s object in coming to Pemberley. And today, Lady Rebecca would—
Oh! My foot slipped on the loose gravel, propelling me forwards, and my hands flailed in a futile attempt to right myself.
My knee and palms struck the craggy ground, and I cried out before collapsing sideways, landing upon my bottom.
With a high-pitched bark, Rory raced to me.
He sniffed my hand and licked my chin, emitting a soft whine.
“I am well, my boy.” At least I should be in a moment.
With my heart thundering, I rose carefully on trembling legs and brushed off the dirt and tiny rocks that clung to my dress.
A jagged tear defaced the citron fabric of my skirt, and a stinging pain raged from my knee.
I inspected my aching hand, which had sustained a small abrasion from my attempt to break my fall.
I bent down to view the damage to my right leg. An ugly, but superficial, scrape marred the area over my patella.
A shadow fell over me, and Rory’s barks rang in my ears.
I recoiled, and my head shot up as I pushed down my skirt and straightened.
Graham stood before me, an apparition in a bright green coat.
Impossible! How had he appeared so suddenly and without making a sound?
My dog took a position at my side, watching Graham’s every move.
“Elizabeth, are you hurt? I saw you take a fall.” Folds darkened his brow.
For a moment, I floundered, placing most of my weight on my left leg to spare my stinging knee. “I…um…”
He grasped my forearm to steady me. “You are injured!”
“No, no. I am well.”
At Rory’s low, steady growl, I gave him a pat. “All is well, boy.”
“You are bleeding.” Graham pointed to the red-stained, torn area of my dress.
“Just a little. I slipped on the loose gravel and have a couple of scratches—nothing of concern.” I took in the panorama around us. “Where did you come from?”
Releasing my arm, he pointed behind him. “I took the road from Lambton, saw you here on the path, and came to meet you.”
I raised my hand to shade the glare from the morning sun. “But if you came from the road, I should have perceived you.”
“You did not notice me because I left the road to take a short-cut through the brush. And from my observation, you lacked your usual relaxed comportment and seemed to be in a pensive state.”
For a few minutes, my argument with Fitzwilliam had escaped my thoughts. “Yes, that is true.”
Graham offered his arm. “Pray, let us proceed to the house.”
“Thank you.” I accepted his aid. With each step, I leaned upon his arm to favour my smarting knee. Rory, rather than explore the area as he usually did, stayed at my side. I remained unnerved, both from my fall and my unsettled speculation about Fitzwilliam and his hostile aunt.
My brow arched as I regarded Graham. “So, you have been to Lambton again. I take it you and Mrs. Mead are good…friends.”
“Yes, we are.” His stare tarried on me. “Do you disapprove of my alliance with Mrs. Mead?” He posed his query in a peculiar tone—as though he invited me to state an objection.
I struggled for a decorous response, my pulse quickening under his scrutiny. Then a new thought sent a chill through me: Did he attempt to see into my mind? “Well…it is not my place to judge.”
“Many people would take exception to our association since we are not married.”
My lips pressed into a flat line. Yes, and these same individuals could damage Mrs. Mead’s reputation. “You brought up a valid consideration. How can you ensure that no one will spread gossip?”
“I have the situation under control. You must trust me on this.”
Is this the only answer I am to receive? Yet his bearing evinced an assuredness that silenced any further protest I might have put forth. Then another, more delicate, concern came to mind. “While you are both adults and I do not condemn you for finding comfort in each other’s company, I do wonder—”
“You want to know what will happen if she becomes with child.” Graham fixed upon me, and a searing heat rose from my neck.
“Yes.”
“Your concern is logical, but I am unable to father children.”
My line of sight dipped towards the ground ahead. “I apologize. I did not intend to pry.”
He patted my hand. “Pray be easy. You could not have known, and I volunteered the information. I should not want you to fret for Sarah’s well-being.”
How could Graham be so certain he could not have children? Although the question hovered on the tip of my tongue, I did not dare to utter it.
“You are a gentle and caring soul. Sarah has nothing but praise for you. I hope Darcy knows how fortunate he is to have you.”
My chin lowered. “I suspect he does not feel so lucky at this moment.”
“Why should that be?”
I hesitated. It would not do to reveal details of our argument, yet the notion of confiding the reason for my current anguish to a compassionate friend held immense appeal. “I instigated a quarrel with him last night—one we have yet to resolve.”
“Hmm.” He stroked his chin. “You chose an…interesting time to do this.”
My posture tensed. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, whilst Lady Catherine contrives to place a beautiful and all-too-willing lady in Darcy’s proximity, you initiate a fight with him.” After a beat, Graham blinked at me. “Oh, perhaps the disagreement concerned Lady Rebecca.”
“No, and I should rather not discuss the subject any further.”
“Of course, I understand.” His tone softened. “However, should you ever change your mind, I am at your service.”
“I appreciate your offer.”
When we entered the vestibule, Fitzwilliam strode towards us.
At his unexpected appearance, I halted in a stiff attitude. I had not yet readied myself to confront him.
He disregarded Graham and stopped in front of me, his gaze tarrying on the tear in my dress. “Elizabeth, what happened? Are you injured?”
A brief glance at the dark eyes probing my features revealed an earnestness I could not yet acknowledge, so I lowered my sight to his chest. “I took a fall, but my dress sustained most of the damage. I received no more than a couple of scratches.”
“I am relieved to hear it. Still, make sure Gibbs puts a salve on them.”
With a brusque nod, I turned from him. “Yes, I shall.” I rushed towards the stairs, heedless of the twinge that accompanied every other step. Rory, my sweet sentinel, remained constant beside me.
Darcy
I vacillated on my feet and followed Elizabeth’s progress through the hall.
A subtle, yet consistent, lack of symmetry marked her gait—she favoured her right leg.
With several slow breaths, I suppressed the impulse to run after her.
Verily, she would not welcome my company, and I had not yet determined how to resolve our argument.
I shifted at the sound of Graham clearing his throat.
“Good morning, Darcy.”
I bit back a scowl. “Good morning. Were you with Elizabeth when she fell?”
“No. I watched from a distance when she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. I regret not reaching her sooner, so I could have prevented her injury. Even from afar, I could see that she had been occupied in meditation when she slipped.” He used a maddeningly unhurried inflexion.
“It would seem she had a great deal on her mind this morning.”
“I see.” I twisted my signet ring. Dash it! I ought to have been with her. Wait—what did Graham mean to insinuate by his remark? Did she tell him of our argument? She would not do that, would she? I directed a glare at Graham’s infuriatingly complacent visage.
He and I proceeded to the breakfast room, where Lady Catherine partook of a hearty breakfast. Lady Rebecca joined us fifteen minutes later.
She wore a gown more suited to a formal dinner party than the morning, and it lacked a fichu.
She selected a sparse helping of food before sitting in one of the open chairs near me.
Lady Rebecca inched my way. “I shall be ready whenever you want to leave.”
I leaned away from her. “If you wish to accompany me, I shall not stop you. However, I expect you will find it wearisome.”
She flashed a dazzling smile and touched my arm. “Not at all. I am eager to observe how the owner of a prosperous estate spends his day.”
Without doubt, at least one of us shall be made weary. “Very well, but I hope you will change into clothing more suited to walking out of doors.”
She looked down at her garment. “Alas, my maid neglected to pack my morning dresses. I shall make do with this one. I assure you it is suitable for walking.”
“If you say so.” My head swung towards the entrance at Elizabeth’s soft footfalls, and all else escaped my mind. She appeared a bit breathless but otherwise serene, her limp less pronounced.
Her gaze moved to include everyone at the table. “Forgive me for being late, but I had a slight mishap on my walk this morning.”
Lady Catherine smirked at her. “Ah yes, you are known to be fond of solitary jaunts in the countryside. You once did a great deal of walking all around Rosings, though you were not always alone.”
My wife glanced back at Lady Catherine as she filled her plate at the sideboard. “That is true. Rosings Park estate has an abundance of verdure, lush woods, and meadows offering picturesque walks.”
“The areas of wilderness are pretty, and my grounds are landscaped with meticulous care, but I dare say you had another motive for extending your walks to the farthest, darkest, and most secluded places.” With her eyes narrowed and her mouth wrenched in a sneer, my aunt evinced an unsavoury mixture of haughtiness and defiance. To what did she allude?
To my chagrin, Elizabeth sat on the other side of Graham, obscuring my view of her.
She raised her mug of chocolate for an unhurried sip.
“Well, in addition to the lure of the beautiful sights around your estate, I find the exercise from a long ramble desirable. The activity is restorative for both the mind and the body.”
“Restorative indeed.” Lady Catherine mumbled the words into her cup of tea.
Deuced old woman. When would she relinquish this senseless animosity for Elizabeth?