“I don’t want to be… to be… like her.” And started her tears again.
Would everything make her cry now?
Two of her own handkerchiefs were instantly pressed to her by Mary, who weakly patted her shoulder. She was after alla servant, but she was also the only person here who Elizabeth couldtrustto be fundamentally with her and not with her husband.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
“I'll send for some chocolate like you like it. With extra rum. Lots of rum added to it. It’ll help you feel better.”
“Not too much!”
Mary clucked her tongue. “Don’t you worry about that. Don’t you worry.”
“No wait,” Elizabeth said as Mary went to the bell pull. “No rum, my stomach is still delicate. I couldn’t stand anything stronger than small beer. Maybe not that. Just chocolate.”
Mary hesitated. “I have… ah… noticed that you have left off from your coffee these past mornings. Do you think that it might be possible… if I might, uh, inquire, madam…”
“It is possible.” Elizabeth smiled at her through her tears. And suddenly it seemed to be a very good thing, especially if the rupture between her and Darcy proved to be permanent, that she was likely with child. She wanted a child, their child.
She had accused Darcy of being dishonorable, but she knew him too well to really believe that.
Arrogant, high handed, easily able to forget the feelings of others — though she did not think he cared anything for them — but dishonorable,no.
It had already occurred to her that there was likely more to the story of Wickham’s inheritance thanMr. Wickhamhad shared with her. Yet in that angry moment she had thrown the story that he had told her at Mr. Darcy as though it was entirely true.
Mary sent down for the chocolate, and then asked her if she wished for her to sit with her while they waited for it to be brought up from the kitchen.
Elizabeth nodded and sniffled. She preferred to haveMary with her, rather than be alone.
After bringing out some stockings that Elizabeth had torn the previous day when she’d tripped while walking angrily about after the revelations of the morning, Mary sat down in a chair and started knitting to repair the tear.
Slowly Elizabeth settled. She watched the gray sky, the wind buffeting the trees, the branches pushed as far as they would go. Snapping back once the gust was done.
She could be like that.
Even if she bent and shook under gusts of trouble, she would survive and return to herself once the pressure was past.
She was hungry enough that she quickly swallowed the chocolate when it came up, though she had a little of the ever common nausea.
Elizabeth curled up under a blanket, the chocolate on her incidental table.
Regular sips.
The rich liquid with its strong aroma.
What next?
The greater part of the answer belonged to Mr. Darcy.
He had said that he now knew what to do, but she had no notion ofwhathe meant to do. She was wholly under his control as his wife. Yet…
Elizabeth felt no fear of Mr. Darcy.
The world felt clearer, and cleaner now that she had spoken what was in her heart. Some of what she said is what sheoughtto have told him when he came to Longbourn to negotiate the marriage contract with Mr. Bennet.
He had never asked her.
None of them had ever asked her.
