Chapter 64
Darcy gazed at his rumpled bedclothes in disfavour. Maunder would be in no doubt that his master had slept ill. But that was nothing new to the man who had seen him through his youth and now these last few years with loyalty and discretion.
He turned and rang the bell. It was barely dawn, and he could not call upon Elizabeth for many hours yet. And even then, she might take some days to make a decision.
He smiled ruefully as his valet entered the room with a steaming coffee on a tray which he set down and then gestured to the night footman behind him who was carrying the usual hot, wet towel on a wooden tray with a dry towel over his arm.
“Prepared as always, Mr Maunder, hm?” He nodded at the footman.
“Thank you, Petersen.”
Rubbing his face and hair with the wet towel and then drying it with a rough towel, was Darcy’s tried and true method to feel more awake. Hastily into his riding breeches and jacket, he galloped the length of Rotten Row, almost empty at this hour, before returning for a bath and shave.
Breakfast comprised more coffee and little else. His nerves were in pieces. Elizabeth might not even have decided yet. Worse, she might have decided against him and his world might still shatter from the fragile hope that had sprung within him.
A few minutes before the calling hour, he was waiting around the corner in his coach for the driver to arrive at the door at the right moment.
Then it was time. He drew a deep breath, hoping against hope that she would not have decided irrevocably against him. If she refused the dower house, she might wish to stay here, and still permit him to call.
He would not permit himself to dwell on the risk that he might never be able to call upon her again.
It seemed the next moment that he was knocking on the door, giving his hat and coat to the servant, while the housekeeper bustled up to him.
“Mrs Gardiner and Miss Lizzy are still in conference, sir. They hope you will not mind waiting a few moments.” She indicated the sitting room. “I will bring refreshments for you.”
Darcy exhaled slowly. “Thank you. I will wait.”
He could not sit down, though. He stood, his back to the room, looking out into the gardens, forcing composure.
Then he paced around the room before returning to the window.
She was in conference with her aunt. Did that mean …? No, he must not anticipate good or bad. He must wait. This was Elizabeth’s choice. He had served her ill before; he would not do so again.
Then he heard a sound at the door. Elizabeth stood there, alone. Her face was serene, but he could not read what it meant.
She entered and closed the door.
“Please sit down, Mr Darcy. I am sorry for the delay in joining you.” She was smiling slightly, what did that mean? His feelings seemed as those of a man in a storm-tossed boat must be.
She sat beside him. “I will not keep you waiting, sir. While there are certain things I wish to say around the matter, I have decided to accept your offer of the dower house.”
Darcy could not help himself. He fell back in the chair, weak with relief.
When he could recover himself, he saw that she had that slightly wry quizzical expression he loved. The arched brow, the slightly crooked smile.
“I assume you thought I would choose anything but the dower house?”
“I …” he stopped and cleared his throat. “I had dreaded that thought, Elizabeth.” He would not ask how soon they would go, would not ask if he might escort her. This was her choice and he would be satisfied with it. More than satisfied. Overwhelmingly delighted.
While he was a little embarrassed that she had seen his loss of self-control, he thought she seemed rather softer, warmer. This was a moment, perhaps. He straightened up.
“I mean to keep every promise I made to you if you decided to return to Derbyshire.”
She touched his arm. “I know it. If I did not trust that, I would not have made this choice.”