“My dear, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said softly. She squeezed his hand back and kissed it. “You can be happy with yourself. You do not need to marry me to forgive yourself, to know that you deserve to be happy.”
“No, no. That is not it.” His lips were pale. “No, I know. I have heard what you say. I agree. Only—Jove, I only beg you to let me care for you. I must. I must. Tell me that you will let me. Do not leave, simply because your father convinces you that all will be well.”
“Do you mean to say that I deserve more than he can give me?—but Darcy,” she kissed his hand again, softly, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath her lips. “I could not disappointGeorgein such a way. You have nothing to worry about.”
He let out a long shaky breath. “Yes. Yes. I had forgotten about George. Of course. You would not disappointhim.”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “He is quite determined to have you as a father. I would say you ought to hear him upon the subject, but I believe he has pestered you on the matter of the details more than me.” She smiled at him. “You see, my papa can only offer to be a ‘grandpapa’, not a ‘papa’. Your offer is wholly superior.”
“Please, I know how you love to laugh, but I think I shall not relax until you promise me—but no, that is wrong of me. I only wish to be able to care for you and protect you and see you happy.” He closed his eyes. “You know your own mind. Hear your father out and make the choice that seems best to you. But do think of George.”
A well of affection and warmth for Darcy flooded through Elizabeth.
She did like him very much.Thiswas far better than being controlled by lust and admiration for a gentleman. “Darcy, I can say that given what I know about my hopes and plans, I would be utterly shocked if my father said anything to me that convinced me to abandon our plans to marry. I do not think you have anything to worry about—that is not a promise, since you told me to make no promises, but it is a confident prediction. Do look at me.”
He did look at her, and he forced a smile. He nodded.
The look in his eyes. An idle thought passed through her mind:He was behaving like a gentleman in love.
She pushed that away.
He behaved nothing like Wickham ever had. He was not in love. She did not want him to be in love. She wanted him to be exactly what he was. And she saw that this was not just a matter of duty for him. His behavior came from his deep care for her.
Elizabeth took his hand and kissed it once more, and then she went out to speak with her father.
She was filled with a tumult of anxiety as she went out the hall.
Suddenly as she stepped out into the bright sunny day, a flash of anger ran through her again. It was her decision! Howdarehe come and judge her.
He hadn’t stopped her from marrying Wickham when it was still his place and duty to manage such matters. And now he wanted to judge her for what she did to manage the difficulties that arosebecause he’d failed her.
Papa was speaking to Coachman John. John was a familiar figure. He’d driven the family everywhere since he’d taken the position when Elizabeth was eight years old, after the old coachman had taken a pension and gone to live with his daughter.
“Hello, Mrs. Wickham.” He took off his cap and nodded to her.
“Hello, John,” Elizabeth replied. She trembled with that sudden rage against Papa, and yet she spoke with complete calmness. There was tightness and artificiality to everything. “And are your children all well?”
“Yes, yes. Except Mary. You know she married last year. Thomas, he was the footman when you left. He’s now taken over his father’s tenancy. She lost her first child. Just a week after he was born—he’d been struggling from the start. Too small. But we’d started to hope when he lasted so long. The missus and her are both torn up about it.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth replied, a stab of fear at imagining one of her children dying and knowing that it always could happen. The risk was always there. “I am sorry to hear that. Give my condolences to Mary.”
“She’ll be glad to hear you remember her. She will.”
“Alright,” Papa said. “Off to the inn.”
“You can stay here,” Elizabeth said. “There is room enough. Darcy keeps his carriage in the stable around the corner. The horses seem well cared for.”
“To the inn,” Papa replied. “I’ll not presume upon Mr. Darcy’s hospitality.”
“You can,” Elizabeth said sharply. “I’ll vouch for it.”
Papa studied her. After half a minute he said, “Alright John, find the stable around the corner, and then ask in the house for a place to refresh yourself.”
He took Elizabeth’s arm. They walked along the crescent and then out towards the promenade. The sounds of the ships in the harbor were clear. They crossed the street to be in the shade. “Now my dear, my dear. Talk to me.”
Instead of saying anything Elizabeth burst into tears.
Papa embraced her, and Elizabeth let him. “There, there. My dear. My dear. It will be alright. It will be.”
