The only thing he could do was leave the room.
Chapter Thirteen
As soon as Darcy left, Elizabeth vomited wildly into the ornamented bin that Darcy kept by his desk to toss wasted paper into. She sobbed more and then continued to fill the bucket.
How could they continue to live together?
Elizabeth sobbed for a long while.
She put her feet on the sofa and wrapped her arms around her knees, shuddering from side to side.
And that she would have a child in such a situation!
Slowly Elizabeth came back to herself in her misery, and she recalled that this was Darcy’s office rather than her own chambers.Hereshe would inevitably face him again, and sooner by far than she hoped to.
To stay was impossible.
Elizabeth rose gingerly from the sofa, and holding her stomach against the ever-present roiling nausea, she made her way out of the room into the main hallway.
She safely got to her room, without needing to do more than bow to a servant, who would no doubt spread stories based on the state of her eyes. But she suspected from the towering rage that Darcy had been in that it would be impossible to hide from the staff that the master and mistress had quarreled.
Elizabeth had always felt an instinctive reticence and desire for privacy around the servants, likely driven by seeing how her mother made them observe every stress of their family life, and how she turned to them every time she had a complaint against Mr. Bennet. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner never did anything of the sort. The few times she saw them quarrel, they made every effort to keep the children or servants from being confronted with the anger between them.
When Elizabeth entered her sitting room, she found Mary there, tidying up, and laying out two dresses for her to choose between for dinner.
“Lord! Miss Lizzy, what is the matter?”
Elizabeth shook her head and did not answer.
“Is it some bad news from home?”
“No, no, nothing of the sort.”
“Oh, of course not. Last letters were yesterday.”
“This is home now,” Elizabeth replied.
And she started sobbing again.
“Oh, my. Oh, my.” Mary helped Elizabeth to the couch, and put a blanket over her, and then asked, “Who should I be angry at?”
Elizabeth laughed wetly.
“There were stories about you circulating. Rumors. I told everyone that you were a right and virtuous lady. Did someone accuse you of… ah…”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I… I had a…”
“Quarreled with Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth mutely nodded.
“Never been married, but they all say that’s a common thing. To disagree with your husband from time to time.”
“Not like this,” Elizabeth replied mournfully. “At least I do not think like this.”
“Oh.”
Mary seemed not to know what to do with that. “I suppose you wouldn’t want to tell me the details. Not like your mother, you aren’t.”
