Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“It would have made no difference,” he countered. “The letter dates from the day after Christmas. We had not even discussed whether to continue our pursuit at that time.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “It lacks significance. I cannot do this any longer!”
She noted her husband flinched. Cautiously, he asked, “Cannot do what any longer?”
“This!” She threw her hands up in a gesture of frustration.
“This! Us!” The silence deflated her spirits.
“Us,” she whispered. “I can no longer do us.” Tears filled her eyes, and Elizabeth’s bottom lip trembled.
“If I had not allowed myself to be seduced by the idea of assisting you, my family would be safe. I would be at Longbourn, listening to Lydia rattle on about the latest militia officer to catch her eye. Instead, she is calling George Wickham my lord. I cannot forgive myself for my weakness. I want to go home, but how will I ever face my parents with the knowledge that my arrogance cost them their youngest child? How will they ever forgive me? How can I explain without being disloyal to you? My keeping your secret permitted Wickham the opportunity to exact his revenge.”
“I cannot permit you to go alone,” her husband reasoned.
Elizabeth turned on him, her ire ablaze.
“How will you stop me from going alone, William? Will you keep me under lock and key? Will you follow me and drag me back against my will? If you do, I will escape again and again, and one of those times I will make it to London, and I will find a solicitor and a barrister who will take my case against you, and although I, as a woman, cannot seek a divorce from you, I will let it be known that we never consummated our marriage. The ton will shun you, thinking you perverted in your tastes.” Elizabeth did not know why she said such awful things.
She would never purposely hurt Darcy. Even with Lydia’s abduction, she, truthfully, did not blame him as much as she blamed herself.
She had let down her guard, and Wickham had swept in for the kill.
Resigned, he stepped away from the door.
“I will not stop you,” he muttered, “and not because of your threat, but because I will not see you hurt by me again. Send word where you choose to go, and I will have my man provide for you. Whatever you need—tell him. I will not deny you.” He stepped purposefully behind the desk, as if negotiating a business arrangement.
“If you wish to leave today, I shall have the coach readied.”
She had made her choice, but seeing Darcy so withdrawn ripped at her heart. Her voice trembled. “I am sorry, William,” she said softly, as if offering a caress, but she did not turn around. Instead, she welcomed the tears she refused to withhold.
“I will think otherwise,” he said from somewhere behind her.
Elizabeth heard the emotion in his voice.
“I will never be sorry for loving you, Elizabeth. Even with everything that has occurred, I do not regret one moment I held you in my arms. I only regret that I brought you pain. It was not a fair exchange for the joy you presented me.”
Elizabeth forced herself to turn the latch.
Made herself leave him. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment, considering returning to his embrace.
“I love you.” The words barely escaped her lips, but her heart screamed them.
Tears choked her as she pushed away from the entrance and ran towards her chamber. In that instant, her life ended.
The tap on his study door was insistent, but Darcy made no move to respond.
Elizabeth had departed more than two hours prior.
He watched her board the coach, knowing she would never return.
Even if he had not seen her leave, he would have known Elizabeth was gone.
The house was a crypt. All the sunlight that had filled it for the past few weeks departed with the carriage that took her away.
He now stood leaning against his forearm, looking deeply into a fully engaged fireplace, but feeling the chill of an empty hearth.
“William?” Georgiana knocked again and tried the latch before pounding with her fist. “William, open the door! Elizabeth left, William. Will you not go after her?”
Georgiana waited for an answer, but Darcy did not move.
He locked the door when Elizabeth stormed away two hours and thirteen minutes earlier.
He counted it off in five-minute intervals, wondering how long it would be before he died of a broken heart.
How long could he survive without breathing?
What had he done before her? Was there anything prior to when Elizabeth Bennet danced into his life?
His sister’s voice came again, but this time it was softer and more pleading. “William, please. Brother, we need her. We need Elizabeth.”
“Go away, Georgiana,” he called over his shoulder. “There is no more Elizabeth.”
“But, William …” She jiggled the door latch again.
“Bloody hell, Georgiana; I said there is no more Elizabeth!”
The glass shattered as it hit the door. An inhuman cry of pain filled the room as Darcy sank to his knees in defeat before rolling over onto his side to lie in a crumpled mess.
He pulled the carpet upon which he rested around him, over his shoulders and around his body. It is so cold. Why is it so cold?
As the carriage pulled away from Pemberley, Elizabeth hoped Darcy would stop her.
All along the lane, she imagined his riding up like a highwayman, stopping the coach, and demanding she return to him.
Before she left, she found the door to his study locked.
Is he behind the door? Does he not care enough even to speak his farewells?
Secretly, she regretted her impetuous stand in his study.
She should not have accused him of causing her family’s grief.
Assuredly, he played a role in it, but so had she, and so had Lydia, and so had Mr. Wickham.
It was no more Darcy’s fault than it was Lord Thomas’s fault for catching Leána’s eye two centuries earlier.
Possibly, Lady Ellender D’Arcy shared some of the blame for her decision to trade Seorais Winchcombe for Arawn Benning, but as a woman in love she could easily visualize she would go to such extremes to save Darcy’s life if faced with a similar situation.
Now, as the carriage rolled towards London, Elizabeth urgently wanted to order it to turn around.Yet how could she admit she erred?
And how could she be certain Darcy would welcome her return?
She wanted what he wanted: a family, even if they adopted, and the estate, and lying in each other’s arms, legs entangled and bodies touching.
She groaned in acknowledgment of her ill judgment.
Where will I stay? When she left Pemberley, she planned to return to Longbourn, but upon reflection, Elizabeth did not see how she could.
She assuredly could not share with anyone what she knew of Darcy and of Wickham.
And what other reason could she give her parents for her return?
They would welcome her, of course, for a few days while Lydia’s disappearance was investigated, but she could not return in shame; her leaving Darcy would bring more notoriety to her family.
Jane, Kitty, and Mary would suffer, never finding husbands of their own.
In addition, her presence at Longbourn might draw Wickham there.
So where else was there? She could not stay with her aunt and uncle. Wickham might choose to strike their household also. Elizabeth would never risk the lives of her niece and nephews by returning there.
Darcy House? At least, there her presence would not place a loved one in danger. Her father could stay with her while he searched for Lydia. Although Elizabeth knew his search would prove fruitless, her father would know all the comforts Darcy’s money could provide.
After her family’s unproductive search, she would go far away—a just punishment for her conceit—for being the source of so much pain—and as a means to forget Darcy. She permitted the misery to break over her, but a gust of wind against the coach’s side had her peeking out the window.
The coachman opened the slot in order to speak to her. “Mrs. Darcy?”
“Yes, Mr. Peters?”
“There be a storm stirrin’ up the leaves. Might be best if ’n we stop at the next inn. You can seek shelter there.”
Elizabeth could hear the wind whistling through the opening. “I trust your judgment, Mr. Peters.”
“Yes, Ma’am. We should be there in a quarter hour or so.” He slid the slot closed and called to the horses.
Elizabeth felt the coach lunge forward. She would spend the night without Darcy—her first since they wed.
It seemed unnatural somehow, but she would learn to survive without him.
She had no choice. She brushed tears from her cheeks; yet, she knew there was no controlling how many tears she would shed over Fitzwilliam Darcy before her life was over.
A little after midnight, Darcy emerged from his study.
The household slept, but he wanted no one’s assistance.
Taking a single candle from one of those left burning in the entrance foyer, he made his way to his chambers, the ones connected to hers—to Elizabeth’s.
She had been gone twelve hours and forty minutes, and, unbelievably, his heart still beat.
Elizabeth had left him. He had known from the first moment he desired her that such was inevitable, but he had succumbed to hope, even though he was an aberration and had brought evil into her life.
She deserved the best, and he had foolishly thought he could buy her those things, and that would be enough.
He never considered the fact that Elizabeth’s goodness—her loyalty—her empathy were priceless.