Chapter 42 #2
He did not, Elizabeth discovered, realise that his brother had been hanged.
Fortunately, Henry readily apprehended what his brother’s end had been and did not require much explanation.
Nevertheless, the telling of it cast an additional shadow of sorrow over the carriage.
“It is strange. No matter what he has done to me and to his country, he is, yet my brother—my twin brother; we are halves of a whole. His passing must affect me.”
Entering Towton Hall on her husband’s arm was eerily and disquietingly reminiscent of coming there as his bride. It was evidently so for Henry too as his homecoming recovered his spirits a bit.
The servants were pleased to see him, having received an express from Elizabeth informing them of the extraordinary series of events that had happened and would alter the household as they knew it.
They had all done their best to ready the house, but given the short notice, it could not be perfect.
Henry was delighted, however, pronouncing that it looked as though he had left but a day ago and congratulating them on their industry.
Elizabeth was thrilled with an express that had arrived just that day, proclaiming her an aunt. Her sister had given birth to Mr Bingley’s son. All were healthy and well and enjoying the company of Mrs Bennet, who had arrived in December and had no imminent plans for departure.
She showed it to Henry, remarking lightly, “I suppose it was one of the happy circumstances of my situation while increasing that my mother was unable to attend me for Henry’s birth.”
“Would she not have been of use to you?”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, certain he was making a joke. “My mother?”
Henry looked oddly confused. “No, I beg your pardon…I do not…you were happy she was not there?”
Elizabeth forced a light laugh. “My dear, you must have lost the part of your memory that concerns my mother! No, I assure you, she would not have been of any use at all. She would have made us all nervous but require assistance for her nerves. Once she had recovered, she would have found any number of things that I did incorrectly, both in delivering your son and in all my actions thereafter. You will see when you meet her again, and you will wonder that you could have forgotten.”
Henry joined her in her laughter and no more was said of the matter.
As she prepared for bed not more than an hour later, she wondered whether she should expect his visit.
Henry had shown no inclination to come to her in the brief time they had been reunited, a forbearance in which she took great relief.
She did not know how she could honour her marital obligations with a man with whom she felt so unattached.
At this juncture, she knew she must love him far more than she felt.
She was prepared to bear her wifely duty with equanimity, but she hoped her resolve would not be tested this particular night.
Rather than wondering, she decided to speak to him about it. Raising her courage, she knocked gently upon his door. He opened it quickly. “Elizabeth?”
“Would you join me for a moment in the sitting room?” He nodded and followed her.
They sat, and she folded her hands carefully on her lap, not meeting his eyes. “I wanted to discuss your expectations.”
“My expectations?” He looked bewildered.
“It is difficult for me to know how we must go on. I am ever fearful that I offend you by my reserve, yet I feel singularly incapable of offering more to you, especially in the…more particular aspects of marriage.”
He looked relieved. “Pray, do not make yourself uneasy. I do not expect us to act as though nothing has transpired. As for our conjugal relationship”—he paused, looking awkward—“be assured that I am content to take our time. In fact, I think it might be rather prudent if we abstained for several months.”
“Several months?” It sounded agreeable, but she could not deny that she was surprised by his preference for it.
He spoke carefully, his eyes averted. “We should wait until we are certain you do not carry Darcy’s child. I should not like to look at a child and wonder whether it was mine.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth blushed. “Of course.”
“I believe you loved him, did you not?”
Elizabeth averted her eyes quickly, unable to meet his gaze. “Yes, I…I did. I do, still.”
“I believe you will for some time.”
Elizabeth felt a sob within her throat and could not answer him. How can I admit that I had forsaken him for another man? It will break his heart.
“Do not be ashamed,” he said gently. “I wished, oh, how I wished that you were happy, wherever you were and whatever you did.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “I mourned you, Henry, I did. I was afraid and scared and sad. My life was cold and grey, and he made it full of life again. He brought back parts of me I had not truly realised were missing.”
Henry spoke woodenly. “I am glad to hear it.” After a short pause, he added, “Darcy is a good man. I am grieved for him. I see how he loved you, and I know he must suffer.”
Elizabeth felt a pain cross her chest at the mention of Darcy’s grief.
Henry picked up her hand and kissed it. “I do not anticipate that things will be immediately as they were. You will take your time to become accustomed to me again, and I shall learn to be a husband and an estate master again, as well as how to be a father. We shall find our way, my dear.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, feeling the tears threatening once again. Henry bowed before going back to his bedchamber, and she fled, tossing herself onto her bed and allowing the tears to flow while being careful not to sob too loudly.
I do not want to. I have no wish to stop loving Darcy. The refrain repeated itself all night long.