Chapter 60
CHAPTER SIXTY
The look on Elizabeth’s face was a combination of joy, exhaustion, and worry. “Excuse us, Fitzwilliam.” Accepting his dismissal, the colonel left the room.
She had clearly put her clothing on in haste and tied up her hair in a barely passable manner, but to Darcy, she had never looked more beautiful.
For a moment, she did no more than regard him with a broad smile on her lips that matched the one he felt on his.
Slowly, she went to his bedside and sat herself close to him.
Darcy wound a hand in her hair and pulled her down for a kiss. “Mrs Darcy, how are you this morning?”
She pushed her face into the crook of his neck, and Darcy soon realised she was crying. Finally, she choked out, “I am very, very happy. I am Mrs Darcy, well and truly, am I not?”
“There will be some questions, but the scar cannot be disputed. Hanley has much evidence amassed against Francis Warren, to be sure.”
“Mr Barnes has already been called upon to attest to the fencing and the ensuing wound.”
“It would seem, Mrs Darcy, that you are destined to be married to men with large scars across their chests.” He glanced down at the wound showing through the gap in his shirt.
“Dr. Abernethy has every hope you will heal well. The wound is closing nicely, and it has not festered. We were worried it might; there was one day you ran a fever, but it resolved quickly. You also have broken ribs and, as you see, many bruises and lacerations.” Elizabeth gave him a lingering kiss and sat back again, a fond smile on her lips.
“You were so brave with Francis—quite the fighter. I would not have imagined it in you.”
“Fitzwilliam and I beat on each other regularly when we were young,” he assured her.
“Any slight, real or imagined, was avenged mercilessly, and the rub of it all was that, when we were through, we would both be punished by our fathers. It did not stop us, though it did teach us to hit where it could not be discovered.”
She gave him a faint smile and fell silent, doing nothing more than gaze at him.
“What is it?”
“It is difficult to believe,” she whispered. “How much I wished for it, and how much I despaired of it. Can this be real? How shall I survive if it is not?”
Darcy moved his blanket back, encouraging her to join him. She moved into his arms, snuggling into him carefully, not wishing to cause pain.
He held her for some time before being able to murmur, “It is real, my love. Our long ordeal has ended at last, and things are as they were meant to be.”
As soon as Darcy had energy enough for the walk, they removed from Towton Hall to Darcy House. It was a short distance and a pleasant enough stroll through the park, but he was nevertheless deeply fatigued by the time they arrived.
Fields and a large footman were on hand to assist him into his house and towards his bedchamber. He resisted for just a moment, turning to Elizabeth.
“I believe I might like to spend my time in your bedchamber, dear. Does that suit you?”
She looked at the ground and blushed. “Of course.”
Fields soon had him established in the mistress’s bedchamber, and Elizabeth entered to see to his comfort.
“Mr Darcy, you are a surprising man. Why do you wish to stay here rather than in your own bedchamber?”
Darcy smiled, even as a painful remembrance came to him.
He took her hand, pulling her to sit next to him.
“I shall never, as long as I live, forget the despair I felt watching as your things were removed from this room, returning you to the man we thought was Lord Courtenay. I never felt so miserable in all my life.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and laid her head against his. “Yes, I imagine so. Why did you watch?”
He shook his head. “I thought it would help me understand it…or to accept it somehow. It did not work. I am here now to assure that, when your things are brought back, returning you to my house and to me, I can watch. For I can say with certainty that, as miserable as I was on that day, I am sure to be in raptures this time. I eagerly anticipate seeing your return and could not bear to miss it.”
And so it was. Her things were removed from Towton Hall that very day.
A retinue of servants bearing boxes and trunks arrived and set about restoring the room to its proper order.
Darcy was pleased to witness it and enjoyed every moment, offering his thoughts on where this box had been before, or where that item had lain on her dressing table.
The servants might have been amused by it all save for the fact that they too were mightily glad to see Mrs Darcy returned.
Darcy recovered more each day; his wound healed well, and his bruises moved from dark blue-black to a more faded green. Even his ribs were quick to stop aching. He was more tired than usual, but his doctor assured him it was no cause for alarm.
The news of the capture of Francis Warren and the discovered treachery of his brother was the most canvassed subject of the ton.
There was little else about which to speak, and although a comprehensive article had been published in the broadsheets, there was still a great deal of conjecture and speculation.
For as much as was said, popular opinion suggested there was more left unsaid, and the drawing rooms and salons buzzed with talk of it.
Hanley proved forward-thinking and put forth a story about Elizabeth being part of a scheme to entrap Francis Warren in a web of his own lies.
Few believed it, but the effort was appreciated, nevertheless.
It was a good sight better than some of the other tales that were circulated, including that she had lived with Darcy as his mistress, she had lived with Francis as his mistress, and Darcy had kidnapped her and killed Henry.
The gossip was unrelenting, but rather than make their society less desired, unfortunately it instilled in the ton a deep longing to associate with them.
They had Darcy’s recovery to excuse them for some time, and it became a rather pleasurable interlude. The world was forgotten as Darcy and Elizabeth, and sometimes young Henry, snuggled up in her bedchamber, reading, talking, and enjoying every manner of indolent pursuit.
It was one such day as they lazed about that Elizabeth, having done a bit of reading, decided to broach a difficult subject. Henry had gone for his nap; thus, Elizabeth thought it was a good time for the discussion.
“Fitzwilliam, I must speak to you about something. It is not pleasant, but it must be said.”
Darcy sat up a bit, feeling wary and having some notion of what the topic must be. “Elizabeth, perhaps it is best left unsaid.”
His greatest fear was that she was with child, and he had already resolved that the child would be recognised as his own. He was determined in that though he naturally hoped it would not come to pass.
“The night of the Latymers’ ball—”
“I pray you would forgive me,” he said quickly, wishing to forestall the difficult speech. “I was beastly. My anger was due to the pain of leaving you.”
“I know.” She smiled at him kindly. “But the remark you made about Henry and his tedious intimacy…”
Darcy gritted his teeth and said nothing, seeing she was determined to speak of it.
“It never occurred. Not once.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “I was surprised. I expected him to…well, our friend Hanley was useful in this as well. For the most part though, he was surprisingly forbearing. Knowing as we do now, I surely cannot account for it, but I am profoundly grateful, nevertheless.”
Darcy was silent a moment. In the morning’s laziness, her hair was not yet put up, and strands of it fell over his arm. He played with a curl as he thought about it.
“I am relieved. I can scarcely credit it.”
Anxiously, she asked, “You do believe me when I tell you that there cannot be a child? There is no possibility of it.”
“Of course, I do,” he hastened to assure her.
“Do you think perhaps…” She paused, uncertain how to say what she must.
“What, dearest?”
“Whether or not you believe me, if we were to conceive a child, there might be some who would suggest he or she was not yours. There is so much gossip and speculation right now; I would not wish to incite more. Perhaps it would be prudent if you and I were to…”
“If you wish to abstain, then we shall, and in any case, the doctor has advised six weeks of rest. I cannot care for those who would speculate about a child we conceive. I shall not trouble myself over it. You and I know the truth, and that is all that matters.”
She curled into his side a bit more tightly. “You always know just what to say.”
His sudden, loud laughter startled them both. “Me?” He laughed again. “Your memory must be quite short to even entertain such a notion. I generally say the most wrong thing, and I shall support that assertion by recalling to you the entire first six months of our acquaintance.”