“Go to your room and wait, I wish to talk to Elizabeth.”
Quietly, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, Georgiana got up.
She looked between them, and only whenElizabethgave her a reassuring smile, did she nod and leave.
When had his wife suddenly gained nearly as much influence with his sister as he had?
Elizabeth said as soon as the door closed, in a quiet, almost frustrated manner, “It was a misjudgment on my part.”
“Yes. And more.”
“I’ll not admit to more.” Her eyes flashed. “You were high handed and—”
“Do you love Mr. Wickham? Do you even care anything for me? — I cannot expect you to feel much for me, when you only married me for what I could provide you, but do you lovehim? My enemy?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth several times. Then she bit her lip, and said sadly, “You make it difficult to not feel sorry for you.”
Those words hung between them.
Darcy slowly said, “I always wondered… Did Papa love him more? He made Papa laugh and smile. No matter what he did… It was enough for Papa. It made Papa happy to see him. He could charm Papa so easily, while nothing I ever did was sufficient. And then Georgiana… Georgiana still loves him, even though sheknowshe is unworthy of him. That d—”
Darcy forced his jaw shut. He would not swear in front of a woman. Not in front of his wife. He would not. Would not. Would not. Would not.
“She will recover. The young often have foolish enthusiasms, and—”
“Do you love Mr. Wickham!”
“No.” She was quick, spoke confidently, and without any hesitation.
She would speak that way if she was telling the truth. And she would speak that way if she had expected the question and practiced the lie.
“I am sorry,” Elizabeth added. “Though I have my own reasons to be angry at you, I am still sorry to see you in such a state.”
“Do you love me?”
Silence.
Why did it even hurt?
He’dknownshe was a heartless mercenary fortune hunter.
“Well, you have won what you desired. You have fortune, and you have the position of my wife. This is what you sold yourself for, but no matter how little you love me, I expect you to play the part of Mr. Darcy’s wife, and I expect you to fulfill the duties and obligations which—”
“Oh, I have!” Elizabeth snapped.
Hands clenching. Unclenching. Jaw clenched. Unclenched. “Mr. Darcy. Let me apologize for—”
“What are you hiding behind that false tone of apology?”
“I merely mean to say,” Elizabeth spat, “that I have offered no difficulty in allowing you to enjoy what you areowed. I fulfill the obligations of my position as yourwife. Oh, if only—”
“You did not last night.”
“Last night! Last night! — I was angry at you. And I truly was sick. But I’ll not let my anger stop you again. No, no, not you! You can come to me whenever you wish! You are my husband, if I am spitting mad, I’ll not try to stop you.”
“That is what you chose. When you married a man who you did not love because you wanted his purse, you chose to let him be in your bed. That was the bargain you made.”
“I never wanted to marry you!” she spat out. And then added, in a voice terrible for its sincerity, “I had no choice.”
