Chapter 14 #3
Mr Darcy's emotions were strangely divided. He regretted knowing he would not see her again. Yet he also recognised that, had she intended to remain in London longer, he might have found himself postponing his own departure.
That, he knew, would have been most unwise.
"What a coincidence," he said quietly. "I shall also leave in two days. I must return to Derbyshire. With winter drawing to a close, there is much that requires my attention."
"Are the winters in Derbyshire very severe, Mr Darcy?"
She welcomed the change of subject.
Mr Darcy spoke warmly of Pemberley, describing its woods beneath fresh snow and the beauty of the estate during winter.
"I have always found the cold easier to bear than excessive heat."
Elizabeth smiled.
"Then it seems we continue to disagree on almost everything."
To her surprise, Darcy laughed.
"And why are you leaving London so soon? Have you not enjoyed your stay?"
"I have enjoyed it very much. London has many attractions, but I have always preferred the country."
She hesitated before continuing.
"Besides, I have no particular reason to remain here any longer. My father needs me at Longbourn."
Mr Darcy lowered his eyes for a moment. He could not help wondering whether her words concealed a meaning she had not intended to express.
When he looked up again, he simply met her gaze.
Neither spoke.
For several long moments they stood in silence, looking at one another.
Elizabeth was the first to look away.
"Mr Darcy, I believe I ought to return to my family. I wish you a safe journey home. Good evening."
She curtsied.
As she turned to leave, Mr Darcy gently took her hand.
"It has been a pleasure seeing you again... and dancing with you this evening."
He raised her hand to his lips.
"Goodbye, Elizabeth."
So startled was Elizabeth by the unexpected gesture—and by the tenderness in his voice—that she felt the colour rush to her cheeks.
Fortunately, the darkness concealed her blush.
Still dazed, she returned to the ballroom, never noticing that, for the first time, he had called her simply Elizabeth.
Darcy watched her disappear through the doorway before releasing a quiet sigh. For one brief moment, he had forgotten every sensible resolution he had ever made.
Almost immediately, remorse followed.
He had no wish to encourage hopes he believed he could never honour.
For the remainder of the evening, he kept deliberately away from her.
Yet long after she had gone, he could still feel the warmth of her hand lingering against his lips.
Lady Westcliff's ball proved an extraordinary success.
For days afterwards, London spoke of little else—and of the elegant, accomplished, and immensely wealthy Lady Campbell, who had become the newest sensation of the Ton.
◆◆◆
Although she had gone to bed very late the previous evening and had scarcely slept, Lady Campbell rose early.
She breakfasted alone and, once the meal was over, retired to her study, where she spent the morning trying to prepare herself for the conversation she would soon have with Marcus.
To occupy her mind, she reviewed reports from her Canadian estates and businesses and answered several letters.
When the appointed hour drew near, she quietly left the house by the servants' entrance, unwilling to attract attention or answer questions about where she was going.
Marcus had arrived almost half an hour early.
As Eleanor had instructed, he waited beside the fountain in the park.
Unable to remain still, he paced slowly beneath the trees, his thoughts returning again and again to the twenty years he had spent believing Eleanor dead—years marked by guilt, loneliness, and the certainty that he had failed the only woman he had ever loved.
"Good afternoon, General Sinclair."
Marcus turned.
Eleanor stood only a few paces away.
She looked pale and fragile.
For one overwhelming moment, all he wanted was to take her into his arms and tell her that everything would be well.
Instead, he merely bowed.
"Good afternoon, Lady Campbell."
After a brief silence, he said quietly,
"I do not wish to distress you. I have only one question."
His voice faltered.
"For twenty years I have dreamed of visiting my daughter's grave... of bringing her flowers and telling her that, whatever else happened, her father never ceased to love her."
Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment.
"I beg you... before you ask me anything else, allow me to tell you everything."
She indicated a bench beneath the shade of an old tree, and together they sat down.
After a long silence, she began.
"Four months after you left, I discovered that I was carrying your child."
She looked at him.
"If you know about our daughter, then I assume you received my letter."
Marcus nodded.
"I never received any of yours," she continued. "My father and Thomas hid every letter you wrote to me."
"I believed you had abandoned me," she said.
"My father allowed me to remain at Longbourn. Thomas and Fanny proposed to adopt the baby. As Fanny was also expecting a child, everyone would simply believe the babies were twins."
She stopped for a moment to steady her voice.
"Later, one of your letters finally reached me, and I discovered the deception. I discovered that Thomas had been confiscating your letters and intended me to think you had abandoned me. "
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I wrote to you immediately. I told you everything and begged you to come."
She lowered her head.
"You never came."
Marcus closed his eyes in anguish but remained silent.
"Then one day your brother wrote to tell me that you had died. I confronted my father and Thomas."
Her voice broke.
"Afterwards... I suffered a terrible accident."
"Our little girl was born long before her time."