Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Within several days of seeing Elizabeth at the opera, Darcy was surprised by a call from Lord Courtenay.
Courtenay smiled affably as Darcy entered the drawing room, offering a correct bow that Darcy mirrored. While Mrs Hobbs poured coffee, Darcy watched him, assuming the man had something to say, and prepared himself for further distress.
When Mrs Hobbs had gone, Darcy remained silent. Although, at times, he disliked his taciturn nature, at other times, he found it quite useful, and this was one of the latter. He calmly studied Courtenay, hoping the silence would induce his lordship to speak his mind.
“How are you faring?”
“How am I faring?” Darcy echoed.
Courtenay cleared his throat. “This cannot be easy for you. Of us all, you have been the most wronged in this.”
Darcy shrugged and said nothing.
“My purpose is to thank you for all you have done for my wife. I could easily see that you cared well for her and my son, and I am deeply grateful.”
Darcy kept his eyes averted, lifting his coffee cup and taking a sip.
“This is all dreadfully inconvenient for you, I know, and I hope to assure you that there will be no unpleasantness in the courts or the scandal sheets because of it. I have spoken with the editors and have their words. If only I might silence the gossips!” He chuckled.
“In the event you were concerned for any sort of repercussion for either yourself or Elizabeth, you may rest assured there will be none. You have my word.”
Darcy afforded him a look and a silent nod.
“In fact, I have heard some rumblings about a barony for you. Nothing official yet, of course, but do know I shall be your most ardent supporter. Not that I think you should require my assistance, but you will have it, nevertheless.”
Darcy looked at him blankly before relenting.
After all, this man was not his enemy even though he held what was dearest to Darcy in the world.
For what do you fault him? Remaining alive?
Surviving his brother’s treachery? “I thank you for your assurances. This is a difficult situation, and I feel it keenly.”
Courtenay leant forward, sympathy and regret in his eyes. “I wish to offer some sort of amends to you.”
“Amends?”
Courtenay spoke with great delicacy. “A wife can be a costly object. New clothes are a constant requirement, and perhaps your home was altered in some way? May I offer some recompense?”
Darcy now believed he understood the true meaning of this visit. “I see your purpose. You wish to pay me, and in return, I shall forget all of this occurred and stay away from her.”
Courtenay looked surprised. “Certainly not.”
“No?”
“Mr Darcy, please believe me when I own this is exceedingly difficult and strange for us all, especially my dear wife. She is depressed, and I would do anything within my power to ease her suffering. If that means she must spend time in your company, I shall never deny it. Call on her. It would ease her spirits considerably.”
Darcy was puzzled as this was the last thing he might have expected from this call. “That is good of you, sir.”
“Please, do not mistake my intentions. I have no ulterior motive and no desire to influence you or her. These are strange days for us all, and I came here today to see what I might do to make them easier for Elizabeth, for you, and for me.”
“Very well then, sir, I thank you. Your position is unexpected and not one most men would take.”
“Anyone with any claim to compassion and charity must feel this much. You have been put into the middle of an intrigue that had nothing to do with you, yet you have been wounded.”
“Thank you,” Darcy replied, still feeling unsettled.
Courtenay remained in Darcy’s home just a few moments longer. As soon as he had donned his hat and greatcoat, he turned to Darcy and offered his hand. “Call on her, please. I love my wife, and she is unhappy. If seeing you will make her happy, I would never wish to deny her that.”
Darcy studied him a moment, seeing a bit of tension and a suggestion of sleeplessness beneath the affable air. Gravely, he said, “Very well, I shall.”
Courtenay inclined his head in thanks and took his leave. Darcy was left puzzled and slightly suspicious of the entire affair. No matter how he viewed it, it appeared Courtenay’s motive was wholly altruistic, and that made Darcy uneasy.
A sign of your innate scepticism. You see a gift horse and immediately check its mouth.
It was very odd. Were he in Lord Courtenay’s place, he would take his wife up to his castle where no one would disturb them.
Lord Courtenay’s inclination appeared to be the opposite.
He was promoting the relationship of his wife to her former—former what?
Darcy did not know what to call himself, but he knew if he were in Courtenay’s place, he would take Elizabeth as far away as possible from other romantic entanglements.
Perhaps he truly wishes for her to be happy regardless of the distress to himself.
The following day, Darcy stared up at the impressive edifice of Towton Hall.
Am I going to go in there to see her and pretend we are nothing?
That nothing of romance and love has ever existed between us?
It will take a far better actor than I to affect the countenance of a man who has never tasted the sweetness of her lips or breathed in the scent of her hair as it lay across his face in the morning.
Whose fingers do not know the softness of her skin, and whose ears have not heard her speak words of love—Stop this!
Go in and see her. A simple call so we, all of us, can exist together and begin to put this behind us.
He was shown in to where she sat with Lord Courtenay.
It was evident the month since Kidsgrove had not healed her wounds. She was depressive and carried the anxious air he recognised from Hertfordshire. He could not comprehend it then, but he understood it now and felt a sort of appreciation that such sentiment would be on his behalf.
Courtenay was first to speak. “Mr Darcy, it is good to see you.”
Darcy bowed. “And you as well.” To Elizabeth, he said softly, “Lady Courtenay.”
“Mr Darcy.”
Mrs Baynes served them tea, looking as if she wished to toss the tea on the table and escape. When she had gone, an awkward discussion ensued.
Elizabeth spoke first, raising her chin and inhaling deeply. “How is Georgiana?”
“I thank you; she is well. She is recently returned from visiting Lady Catherine in Kent.”
“Was it a nice visit?”
“Yes. She says Mrs Collins is increasing and expects the child in the summer.”
“How nice. I had heard as much in a letter from my mother, but it is good to have the news confirmed.”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth turned to Courtenay. “Do you remember my girlhood friend, Charlotte? She married my distant cousin, a Mr Collins who, by coincidence, is the parson of Mr Darcy’s aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
“I do not believe I remember her.” Courtenay looked embarrassed and explained to Darcy. “I suffered some damage to my memory from my illness. My doctor thinks it might have been due to the fevers.”
“I see,”
The conversation languished for a moment until Darcy dared to ask, “How is Henry?”
Elizabeth’s face softened, and she replied, “He is doing well. Annie is—”
“My son is very well,” Courtenay interrupted. “Very happy and in excellent health. He is a fine boy.”
It was an oddly vehement response, and Darcy and Elizabeth both looked at him in surprise. Courtenay looked away.
Darcy cleared his throat, searching for a different topic. “Bingley wrote to me that he and his family will come to town in March. You must have heard it as well.”
“I am a bit behind on my correspondence,”
Darcy nodded, understanding she might wish to avoid seeing her family’s responses to the change in her situation. Courtenay appeared not to apprehend and said cheerfully, “I am looking forward to meeting Mr Bingley. I understand he is a great friend of yours, Mr Darcy.”
“He is,” Darcy agreed. “One of my dearest friends. He is an amiable man, and I can hardly think of a soul who does not esteem him, save for those who are offended by the source of his fortune.”
“Ah yes, trade was it not?” Courtenay shrugged. “Soon enough such distinctions will hardly matter.”
“I would like to believe we might one day live in a world where character is valued over heritage,” Darcy agreed as Courtenay gave him an odd smile.
Courtenay rose soon thereafter. “I beg you would excuse me, Mr Darcy. I must meet with someone at my club, but please stay as long as you are able.”
“Thank you.” Darcy stood as Lord Courtenay departed, and then sat again, pleased to have a few moments alone with Elizabeth but curious Courtenay would permit him to remain.
Elizabeth appeared ill at ease. “I had heard you might be present at a dinner we attended recently at the Millers.”
“I had planned to go,” Darcy replied. “But at the end, I could not manage it and sent my regrets. Had I known you were present, it would have changed my mind.”
She raised her eyes to meet his. “I did not know how I could meet you with equanimity in any case, so I suppose it must have been for the best.”
“Both of us are, I think, in a good bit of turmoil and unrest,” he replied sympathetically. “And I expect we shall be for some time.”
Her eyes looked pained as she regarded him, and she appeared to struggle with her emotion. “I know you are suffering, and I am sorry, so very sorry this has—”
“It is not your fault. I was angry—I admit it. I do have times when I feel rage, but it is at the unfairness of it all, not with you. Never with you.”
“I do not deserve your regard.” She returned her eyes to her lap. With a sigh, she reached to the table next to her, finding a small parcel he had not noticed previously. She handed it to him.
“What is this?”
Without looking at him, she murmured, “Your ring.”
His mouth dropped as a lance of pain shot through him.
“Oh…oh, I did not…you should…” He was stammering, staggered, and most of all, not wishing for this—this final step.
He had not remembered she still held his family ring, this last tie to her time as Mrs Darcy, but he did not wish to have it back.
It was a finality he could not abide. He took it unwillingly, unwrapped it, and looked at it, feeling dull and nerveless, entirely unable to respond.
“Your future wife will have it,” she said quietly, her eyes still affixed to her lap, but he saw a tear slide down her cheek.
The ring had been in his family for at least four generations, but he decided at once it would stop here. “No, no it…she will not.”
“She will.”
He thought of that blessed day when he had placed it on her hand and beheld it sparkling in the morning light, looking for all the world as though it had found its home.
He shook his head slowly. “It was meant for you, and it belongs on your hand. If it cannot be there, it will languish in a box somewhere.”
Elizabeth moved next to him on the settee, and he determinedly kept his gaze fixed on the ring. She seated herself far too close, and it required all his resolve to stop himself from pulling her to him and kissing her until all of this was nothing but a distant dream.
She entwined her fingers with his. “You will feel better in time. I hope you do. I wish for nothing more than your happiness, just as you have so generously seen to mine.”
“I shall never be happy so long as I do not have you.”
“I love you, and I want you to have a happy life, even if it is not with me.”
“I cannot be happy without you. In truth, I do not even wish to attempt it.”
She smiled ruefully and whispered, “I do love you, so very much.”
For a long moment, they stared at one another. She moved first, coming closer, tilting her face towards his. Their lips almost touched but did not.
Knowing it went against everything he had ever been taught and everything he believed about himself, he slowly raised his hand, placing it behind her head, and permitted his thumb the pleasure of caressing the nape of her neck.
They were thus suspended, almost kissing, yet not. He could feel her breath against his mouth, as he knew she could feel his against hers. The side of one of her breasts brushed against his arm as it rose and fell with her respiration.
They were suspended in a moment of combined agony and bliss.
Darcy longed to close the half an inch that separated them, to join his lips with hers and kiss her just as he wished to.
He debated violently within himself: the gentleman telling him to back away while the lover, Elizabeth’s lover, said to kiss her as she clearly wished to be kissed.
He knew which voice he should obey, and it warred violently against the voice that he wanted to heed. The two could arrive at no good solution, leaving Darcy to remain motionless, with Elizabeth following suit.