Chapter 27
The sound of the coal spitting in the fire startled Darcy, and he sat up in bed sharply, glancing about.
Moonlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, and in its glow he consulted the clock beside the bed.
It was still far from dawn, and he had barely slept for a couple of hours and not rested at all.
The seemingly endless day had been a maddening storm of events, the consequences of which would not soon be forgotten.
He had planned everything in detail, but once again, Wickham had ruined his plans, this time at the price of his pathetic life.
Despite his resentment, a sense of regret and grief grew within Darcy for the waste of a life.
Something akin to sorrow for his childhood companion and his father’s favourite.
How Wickham had turned from a sweet boy, a loved and cared for child, into a reckless, disloyal, deceiving scoundrel was a mystery that would remain unsolved.
The reality was simple: Wickham had been killed, and Darcy had not retrieved the letters and the papers that the swindler had alleged would ruin Darcys’ name and reputation.
Those letters were supposed to be handed over in exchange for Georgiana’s fortune, and — if they truly existed, which Darcy did doubt — they had yet to be found.
He had searched the house when he removed Georgiana but met with no success, and he suspected that Mrs Younge might know more about Wickham’s affairs and lies.
Even more preoccupying to him was Georgiana’s state of mind and health. She looked frail, ill, exhausted even, and she was behaving strangely; apparently, her marriage had changed her so much that she was only a pale shadow of the lovely and talented Miss Georgiana Darcy.
The previous night, she had seemed soundly asleep; Elizabeth’s presence had benefited her and soothed her torment much more than that of her own brother. The mere thought of his wife lightened his heart and made him smile. Could he be prouder of her?
A sense of panic had distracted him as he had tossed and turned in his bed, and he struggled to keep it away: now that Wickham was dead, there was no need for him to use Elizabeth’s money.
She would have her entire fortune back immediately.
Such a possibility was not mentioned in their contract.
What would she choose to do now? He had promised to offer her complete freedom in deciding her future.
Would she remain with him, or would she rather purchase her own house in town?
Or a small estate would perhaps suit her better, where she could live her life as she pleased.
Separate from him. Just thinking of the word caused his throat to constrict in anguish.
She was not alone any longer; she had the Gardiners of course, she had her sister Jane, but now she also had her cousin.
There were enough married young women in high society who chose to live separately from their husbands, if they could afford such liberty.
In most cases, once a woman married, her fortune passed entirely to her husband.
But Elizabeth had no such problem, so she could claim her freedom from the marriage at any time.
With the prospect of a scandal, being Mrs Darcy might bring her more distress than advantages, so she had every right to decide whatever was best for her.
Darcy dressed for the day, which he knew would be a long and difficult one, then he went to enquire about Georgiana.
Before he had time to knock, the door opened, and he started seeing Elizabeth on the threshold. Clearly surprised, she stood frozen, inches away from him.
“Georgiana is well. Resting,” she whispered. “The maid said she slept most of the night. Did you want to see her?”
He shook his head and stepped back to allow her to move out into the hall and close the door behind her.
“I did not expect to find you here, but I thank you,” he said, his eyes lingering upon her. She was still dressed in her nightgown and robe, her hair still loose.
“I just awoke, and I came to see her. Are you about to leave?”
“Not yet, but soon. And you? You should return to your bed — it is early yet.”
“I could not sleep. There are so many things happening that rest was difficult to find.”
“Then perhaps…I have ordered some early breakfast in my room. Would you join me for a cup of coffee or tea?” he offered. She seemed surprised and hesitated briefly, then smiled.
“Yes, of course.”
They entered his chamber together; Marston was there, busying himself with a tray of food and coffee, and Darcy requested another cup and a pot of tea.
“Come, sit in this armchair, by the fire,” he told his wife. “Here, let me wrap you in this blanket to warm you.”
She only nodded, watching him with her bewitching eyes, her cheeks charmingly crimson.
Shortly afterwards, his valet returned, deposited a tray, then left promptly. Suddenly, the chamber with only the two of them became warmer.
“Let me pour you some tea. Or maybe coffee? Or both?” he asked, annoyed by his own nervous, stupid babble.
What had happened to him? After all, he was with his own wife, having breakfast as they had done so many times before.
That the location of the meal was his room or that the early hour made it look like they had spent the night together did not matter.
“Both,” she replied and let out a little laugh. He smiled, placed two cups on the table beside her, then sat down in the chair opposite.
“Would you like some bread? Or ham?” he continued.
“No, no, please enjoy your coffee. And eat something — your day will be a difficult one. Have you slept at all? You look pale and tired. Was your arm hurting?”
“No, I have almost forgotten all about the injury. Marston thinks it is healing nicely and… But I slept very little and poorly. And you?”
“The same,” she admitted.
“And yet, you look as charming and lovely as ever,” he said, and she blushed and laughed again.
“You have become quite a flatterer, Mr Darcy,” she said, biting her lower lip in a simple gesture that distracted him.
“I am only being honest with my wife. I insist that you still need rest. I fear there will be some distressing days ahead of us.”
“Then perhaps I would do better to rest after those days have passed, once the distress is over. I am glad Georgiana has finally found the rest she deserves. Poor soul, she looked exhausted. Why are you still concerned? Your sister is home, and that man brought his fate upon himself. How might it affect us?”
He paused a moment, then sipped from his coffee.
“Wickham asserted he had papers proving my father’s involvement in some illegal affairs.
I know Wickham was the one responsible for dragging my father into those schemes, but I am not sure what the papers contain and whether they have the potential to somehow incriminate my father or just damage his reputation.
I may have already mentioned this, but Mr Gardiner is the only one aware of the whole truth.
To my relatives — including the colonel — such a revelation will be a shock. ”
“I am not certain how things are within the highest social circles, but I assume most gentlemen have more than one secret they do not share with their family.”
“Very likely. Still, it depends on the secret. Some are more acceptable to society than others. Of course, Wickham might have lied about the papers, just as he lied about everything else.”
“Or, even if such papers exist and someone finds them before you do, you may claim they are forged. My uncle would testify for you, I am sure.”
He smiled, touched by her spirited response.
“I am impressed by your willingness to remain hopeful and find solutions. For several years, I struggled alone with the consequences of Wickham’s actions against my family.
Now, I confess I am relieved to have your compassion and support.
I would not blame you if you wished to distance yourself from this chaos, especially now that your fortune is intact and will be restored to you. You may do whatever you wish.”
A frown appeared between her eyebrows, and she put the cup down, staring at him.
“I am not sure I understand your meaning, sir.”
“You understand that the sum you offered me was not used. Nor will it be. The money is with my solicitors and will be returned to you whenever you want. With such an amount, you have the means to do whatever you wish. I shall certainly keep my word to allow you to live separately if that is your desire.”
She continued staring at him, and he wondered why she looked so stricken.
“You do not need the money any longer?” she finally enquired.
“No…I shall notify the solicitors to return it to you immediately.”
“But, is it not the custom that the woman’s fortune is the property of her husband after the wedding to do with what he pleases?”
“It is, in a typical marriage. But even then it would usually be somewhat protected by a settlement to the benefit of any children born within the marriage. But we had a contract, and now the main point of the contract is irrelevant. I believe a written settlement might be needed to restore the prior circumstances.”
“I see…” she said, then slowly unwrapped the blanket and stood up. He watched her, puzzled, and stood too. Up close, she seemed smaller compared with his taller frame, and very pale; he had to repress his impulse to put his arms around her.
“I may live by myself, even if we are still married?” she repeated.
“Yes, of course. It was mentioned in the contract, at your request.”
“I remember…but we would still be married?”
“Yes. There were no mentions in the contract of an annulment or divorce. They are difficult to obtain, of course, but if that is what you want…”
“Do you want me to leave? To find a house by myself?” she enquired bluntly, and he held his breath.
“No, of course not!” he exclaimed. “This is — has become — your house. All the servants love you, my relatives have become fond of you, now my sister appears to benefit deeply from your company, and I…I have come to depend on your support. Your presence here is…needed.”
She nodded silently, walking towards the adjoining door. He could sense a change in her voice and posture but could not read it.
“I shall ready myself for the day now,” she said. “I am not certain of my plans yet as my father will remove himself to Gracechurch Street to wait for his wife. I might visit the Gardiners, too, after all.”
“I shall not be able to accompany you as I must leave soon, and I expect to be busy all day. Shall we meet tonight, at dinner?”
“I expect to be home by then. You will find me here,” she said. “You should not concern yourself about Georgiana — we shall take care of her.”
“Thank you,” he said, trying to take her hand for a brief kiss, as he had done many times in recent days. Strangely, she pulled her hand away, gently but firmly, and left, closing the door behind her.
In Darcy’s room, it was suddenly cold, but not as cold as deep in his bones and in his heart.
What had just happened? His mind was scrabbling to understand how things between them had changed so completely in such a short time, how the warmth had become frost in only a few moments, and how her warm laughter had vanished, leaving in its wake a chilly distance.
Had she just realised she might free herself from the marriage?
Would she leave the house? Leave him? Had he been a fool to even mention it to her?
But what could he do? Prolong a deception only to keep her by his side?
As dreadful as such a notion was to him, it seemed more agreeable than the thought that she would be gone from his life as suddenly as she had entered it.
It was because of Wickham that Darcy had proposed to Elizabeth, and now he might lose her for the same reason.