Chapter 13 #8
They parted ways after that, Banbury to wherever it was he went when he was not attending Bingley and Bingley to escape into the park to reflect, with no little alarm, upon the very great moment of the course upon which he had just resolved.
Wednesday 24 February 1813, Derbyshire
“There you are. I thought you meant to join us in the library.”
Darcy looked up from his letter. Whatever Elizabeth saw in his countenance turned hers from happy to alarmed in an instant, and before he had the chance to respond, she was hastening to his side.
“What is it?” she enquired, laying a comforting hand on his arm and peering at him with the utmost concern.
He raised a hand to cover hers. Then he changed his mind, tossed the letter onto his desk and used both hands to pull her gently onto his lap.
“I am summoned to Kent.”
“So soon? Is she…?”
“Not yet, but the physicians do not believe it will be long, and Montgomery writes to beg my assistance in the preceding days.” In answer to her puzzled look, he added, “He respectfully alludes to my experience in matters of probate.”
“In other words, he does not know what he is doing and needs your help making all the arrangements.”
Darcy smiled at her turn of phrase and inclined his head. “One wonders what his attorney is doing to earn his pay.”
“Even the best attorney is no substitute for the counsel of a trusted and experienced friend.”
“Then I am grateful that he has so many others to call upon.”
She pulled an odd face, half frown half question. He could not fathom her confusion. “You cannot think I mean to go.”
“I cannot imagine why you would not.”
“Why do you suppose?” He spread a hand over her stomach. “I will not have you make the journey again after last time.”
She smiled ruefully. “Much though I know you love my obstinacy, I am afraid I cannot argue with that. But that does not mean—”
“And I shall not go without you. Thus, we shall both remain.”
She gave him a pitying look. “I beg you would pardon me for putting this so bluntly, but it did not sound as though you would be gone more than a few weeks.” She laid her hand atop his. “I believe this little one and I might look after ourselves for that long.”
It was true; he did love her obstinacy, particularly when it was unconsciously done, and she believed she was being complying. Still, he shook his head, unwilling to countenance any length of time apart while she was in so delicate a condition.
“Consider what you would be denying yourself, Fitzwilliam,” she pressed softly. “One is not always blessed with the opportunity to pay one’s final respects.”
“I have made my peace with Lady Catherine. I will not go to Rosings without you.” He did not like the way in which she regarded him and said peevishly, “Anybody would think you were attempting to get rid of me.”
She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. “I know you will regret it if you do not go.”
Of course she knew—she comprehended him perfectly—just as he knew she grew anxious despite her endeavours to conceal it.
Yet, still, she encouraged him to go. She was, without doubt, the most selfless person he had ever known.
“Loveliest Elizabeth.” He held her face and ran his thumb along her jaw.
“I swore to myself I would never leave you again.”
“I shall detest every moment you are gone, yet it is for but a few weeks, and it is not as though I shall be alone. Georgiana will be here for most of that time, Tabitha arrives on Saturday, and Mr Bingley has promised not to rush off. I am sure, if you ask, he will agree to stay until you return.”
The notion of Bingley being Elizabeth’s protector in his absence sat exceedingly ill with Darcy, yet he could not deny the wisdom of it.
Indeed, the enforced delay might give the man time to come to his senses and eschew his absurd plan to emigrate.
He conceded with a sigh and a lingering kiss, after which she nestled against him with her head upon his shoulder.
“I shall be back in good time, whether or not she succumbs rapidly,” he said. “If I miss the funeral, so be it. I refuse to be farther from you than this room whilst you are confined.”
“I did not expect otherwise, but at least you will have said your goodbyes and helped Mr Montgomery. Though, if you did happen to be there as long as three weeks, you could bring Mrs Gardiner back with you. I am sure she would vastly enjoy three days in a carriage alone with you.”
He rolled his eyes and nudged her to stand up. “What have I been missing in the library?”
“Nothing of consequence. Georgiana has given up waiting for you and gone to practice the pianoforte. And when I left, Mr Bingley was brooding, as he is disposed to do these days.”
“Good,” he replied, taking her by the hand and leading her from the study and directly past the library door to the stairs.
“In that case, our absence will not be noted by either of them.” There was much he would need to arrange if he were to travel to Kent, but if he must go, he meant for them to take full advantage of what time they had remaining before he departed.
Sunday 28 February 1813, Derbyshire
The heavens were the purest indigo blue, bedizened with myriad stars and buttressed on all sides by the even darker silhouettes of the surrounding peaks.
Moonlight bounced off the frozen lake, flooding the snow-frosted lawn with eerie blue light.
There could not have been a more enchanting scene to behold or a more perfect vantage from which to view it.
Darcy’s arms tightened about her. “Are you cold, love? You shivered.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “How I shall miss you,” she sighed, her breath frosting the window.
“You delight in torturing me, woman. It is objectionable enough that I must leave you tomorrow without pronouncements of that nature.”
“I would not say I delight in it, though neither shall I say I am sorry. I shall miss you. Though, if you remind yourself often enough what a vexing creature I can be, you might not miss me at all. Then only one of us need be miserable.”
“That will not work,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “I decided almost from the first moment we met that you were the most maddening woman of my acquaintance. It did not prevent me from pining for you for the half a twelvemonth ’til we met again.”
She twisted her head to kiss his cheek. “Then we must be thankful only you have improved in civility since. If you fell in love with me because you enjoyed being vexed, you might fall out again if I suddenly learnt to be agreeable.”
His lips curled into a wonderful little smile, and he shook his head. “Maddening.”
She turned back to the window and hugged his arms to her.
“Have I improved in other ways?” Darcy enquired after a moment. “Am I still proud?”
The question threw her completely. “What makes you enquire?”
“A passing comment of Bingley’s. But it has been troubling me, as you will comprehend.”
She tried to turn around, but he resisted it, his arms stiff. “I would have you answer frankly.”
Her heart went out to him. He was ever as unforgiving of his own defects as he was of other people’s. “A little, then,” she said gently. “Very occasionally. But I do not blame you for it.”
“So you have merely learnt to tolerate it?”
She did turn around then. “Yes, I daresay I have, but is that not what love is—tolerating, accepting, even holding dear one another’s imperfections?
” She placed her hands on his chest. “I would have you know your imperfections are better than most other people’s finest merits, and I love them very much. ”
He cradled her face with both hands and fixed her with the full force of one of his inimitable gazes. “If my imperfections are tolerable, it is because you have made them so. I would be nothing without you.”
“As would I be without you.”
He shook his head. “You have no imperfections.”
She slid her hands around his neck. “I love you more dearly than I knew it was possible to love, Fitzwilliam.” After that, the view from the window was forgotten in favour of the unseen pleasures of the darkened bedchamber, and though Elizabeth could not see him, she felt his gaze as intimately as she felt him love her, and she knew he felt the same.
“God, I shall miss you,” he breathed into her hair as they lay together in bed some time later.
“I am sorry I shall not be there to comfort you,” she whispered.
“Knowing I have you to come home to will be comfort enough.”
“I shall be here, growing fat and relying unreasonably on others to relieve the tedium of waiting.”
“Voila,” he murmured sleepily.
“What?”
“I forgot your impatience when I said you had no imperfections.”
She smirked, and for his benefit, because he could not see her expression in the dark, poked him in the ribs.
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “I do not think you ought to rely much on Bingley for company. I am not sure asking him to remain was wise.”
Elizabeth delighted in the turn of events that had Darcy bemoaning Bingley’s solemnity. “He might be in a better humour when you are gone, for I begin to suspect our felicity is contributing to his wretchedness.”
“Yes, he has said something of that sort to me,” Darcy replied, yawning. “It has much to do with his reasoning for leaving—if one can call it reason.”
Elizabeth had given considerable thought to Mr Bingley’s professed intention to leave the country.
Though both Darcy and she were convinced it was a foolhardy scheme, neither of them wished to interfere so far as to tell him outright he ought not to go.
In truth, there was only one person who could.
“Fitzwilliam, if I write to Jane, will you deliver the letter to her while you are in London to make certain she reads it?”
She felt him adjust his head to look down at her, though he could not have seen much in the darkness.
“Have you not had your fill of being shunned by your sister?”
“More than enough. Yet, I cannot help but think she is the person best placed to convince Mr Bingley to stay.”
“You assume she wishes it. To the best of my knowledge, she has not written to him the entire time he has been with us.”
“I know. But consider, she does not know of his plan to go abroad. I cannot allow him to leave without giving her the chance to try and stop him.”
He rolled his head back to where it had been on the pillow, pulling her more snugly against him as he settled into his repose. “I should never refuse you anything, love. But I beg you, enough of the Bingleys now. I would not have them obtrude any longer on my time with you.”
She stretched to kiss his cheek and whisper her thanks, then settled her head back onto his shoulder to listen to his breathing, already slowing as sleep overtook him. She would rise early to write to Jane. Until then, she meant to remain in Darcy’s arms all the night long. Where she belonged.