Chapter Seventeen #2
The servant bowed, visibly relieved to see him turn back towards the stairs. Darcy descended more slowly than he had climbed them, aware that his conduct would soon be known throughout the house. He regretted the position in which he had placed the footman, but not that he had gone to her door.
???
Elizabeth knew she was being self-indulgent.
She had admitted as much to herself several times during the day, usually just before refusing another of Jane's attempts to persuade her downstairs.
The headache she had claimed at breakfast had become real by noon, brought on by a weeping fit which would have made even Lydia proud.
Since then, she had ignored the trays sent up from the kitchen, answered Jane's questions with as few words as possible and spent much of the afternoon moving restlessly between the bed and the window.
At one point she had seriously considered slipping out by the servants' stairs and walking the two miles to the Dower House, but had dismissed it when she thought of explaining to her father how she had behaved.
She had heard Mr Darcy when he came to her door.
At the first knock, she had gone still beside the window.
At the second, she had crossed half the room before stopping herself.
His voice carried clearly through the door as he apologised for his anger and asked her to allow him to explain.
For one weak moment, she had nearly answered.
Then she remembered how often their conversations began badly and ended worse.
Their first encounter had produced an argument, their attempted truce had ended in a kiss and the previous evening had left them both furious and humiliated.
Another conversation could hardly be expected to repair what so many others had damaged.
And whatever pretty promises he made, men like him did not court women like her.
There was no bright future with her as mistress of some grand house, just heartache and misery if she continued on the path.
She remained silent until she heard him leave.
By the time the house quietened for the night, Elizabeth had changed into her nightgown and robe and was preparing to dismiss her maid when there came a soft knock at the door. The young woman returned a moment later carrying a folded note. "This was brought for you, miss."
Elizabeth recognised Jane's hand immediately:
Lizzy,
Please come to the library. I have need of you and would rather not explain by note. Come quietly, if you can.
Jane
The request was strange enough to overcome Elizabeth's reluctance.
Jane ought already to have been in bed, and the final instruction suggested something she did not wish overheard.
Elizabeth drew her robe more closely around herself, slipped her feet into soft shoes and followed the dim corridor towards the stairs.
The house was nearly silent. Only a few lamps remained lit, their flames lowered for the night, and the long passages looked unfamiliar in the shadows. Elizabeth reached the library without meeting anyone and found the door standing slightly open.
"Jane?"
Her sister was inside near the fireplace, still dressed in the gown she had worn to dinner. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood beside her.
Elizabeth rushed to her sister and Jane came forward at once. "Lizzy, forgive me."
"For what?"
The answer came from behind her.
"For this."
Elizabeth turned. Darcy had stepped from the shadows near the bookshelves. Before she could move, Colonel Fitzwilliam crossed to the door, pulled Jane through it, shut it firmly behind them and turned the key.
Elizabeth ran to the door, whispering angrily through it. "Have you lost your senses?"
"Possibly," Richard said. "But Jane and I have agreed that the present situation cannot continue."
Jane added in a trembling voice. "Please do not be angry."
"You brought me here under false pretences," she hissed, "and now the colonel has locked me in a room with a gentleman that I can have nothing to say to. I can think of several reasons to be angry."
"Only until you have spoken," Jane added, her voice muffled. "Then Richard will open the door."
Elizabeth raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Richard?"
"That is not presently the important matter."
Colonel Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. "We will be immediately outside. No one will disturb you and nothing improper can occur."
"Nothing improper?" Elizabeth repeated. "You have locked an unmarried woman in the library with an unmarried man after midnight."
"When stated in that manner, it does sound less sensible," he admitted.
Jane continued to speak through the wood, "Lizzy, Mr Darcy has been miserable all day. He came to your door despite knowing how it would appear, and he has asked for nothing except the opportunity to speak to you."
"I heard him."
"Then why did you not answer?"
Elizabeth looked towards Darcy. He had not moved from the bookshelves, though the strain in his expression was clear even in the low light. "Because speaking has not helped us before."
"That is because neither of you says what you mean," Jane replied with unexpected firmness. "You decide what the other must think, become offended by it and then refuse to explain yourselves."
Jane continued before Elizabeth could answer. "Richard has known Mr Darcy all his life. He has assured me that his cousin is a gentleman of honour and that he would never seek to take advantage of you."
Elizabeth's face warmed. "You discussed that with him?"
"I did not tell him everything. I told him only enough to understand why you were distressed."
"And what was enough?"
There was a silence beyond the door. "I told him you were upset and that something had passed between you which you had misunderstood."
"There was no misunderstanding."
Darcy moved then, taking a step towards her. "There was."
"You are truly leaving me here?" Elizabeth asked, trying to keep her voice low as she contained her anger. There was no answer.
Elizabeth stood in the middle of the library in her nightclothes, staring at the locked door. "I shall never forgive either of them."
"I believe they are relying upon your affection overcoming your anger."
She turned towards Darcy. "Do not defend them."
"I would not dare."
For the first time that day, something very close to laughter threatened her composure. She suppressed it at once.
Darcy remained where he was, leaving several feet between them. His coat and cravat were still in place, though he looked less composed than she had ever seen him. There were shadows beneath his eyes, and the hand resting at his side closed once before becoming still.
"I am sorry," he said.
Elizabeth looked away. "You have already said that." She folded her arms across herself. "Very well, say what you came to say."
Darcy drew a slow breath. "You were right to question my intentions. I had given you no reason to understand them, and when you asked me plainly, I answered with anger instead of honesty. I was offended that you could think so badly of me, but I had done very little to deserve a better opinion."
Elizabeth's arms loosened slightly, though she said nothing.
"I should not have taken you onto the terrace without first making my feelings clear. I should not have kissed you as I did and then expected you to trust that I meant more by it than desire. You could not know what I had not told you."
"And what had you not told me?"
His gaze held hers. "That I love you."
The words were spoken simply, without hesitation, and Elizabeth felt every prepared defence abandon her.
Darcy took one step towards her, then stopped.
"I love you more than I believed it possible to love anyone.
Last night, as I watched you dance, I knew that I could never willingly choose another partner, whether for an evening or for the rest of my life.
I wanted to tell you then. Instead, I allowed myself to be governed by desire and left you with every reason to doubt me. "
Elizabeth's breath caught, but Darcy continued before she could speak.
"You were mistaken in believing that the difference between our circumstances could make you anything less than precious to me.
I do not deny that I considered it. I was proud enough to believe my judgement of such matters important, but whatever objections I once possessed have lost all power over me.
I think only of what my life would be with you in it, and how empty it would feel without you. "