“He said Richard was to leave, and you were going with him. Is it true? Do you mean to go?”
Elizabeth blinked and held her breath, the understanding that had been hanging over her all afternoon like the sword of Damocles at last slicing down with brutal finality. “I don’t see that I have much choice. His life is in danger if we stay.”
Georgiana snorted indignantly. “What do you mean ‘no choice’? Of course, you have a choice! He would not force you to go with him.”
“Force me? Perhaps not, but I certainly cannot stay here.”
“Well, why ever not?”
Elizabeth’s eyes wandered to the far side of the room, and her throat worked helplessly. “I—I cannot be so close to William and not be with him.”
“But that is just it. If Richard disappears, the rest of the world will continue to think he is dead. Nothing changes for you.”
Elizabeth laughed bitterly. “How simple you make it sound! It would be illegal, Georgiana. William and I did not marry before because we had not the freedom to do so. It was not right without lawful documentation, and that was when we had every reason to think Richard was really gone.”
“Heisgone, if you ask me.”
“He is wounded, Georgiana. Hurting from terrible memories. There is a difference.”
“Oh, no, I do not mean that. He is not himself, to be sure, but he is leaving because to us, he must be ‘gone.’ William told me to save him, we have to pretend he is already lost. Would it not be odd if you disappeared, too? Do you not think someone would realise he still lives and come looking for him because of you?”
“How many people even knew I was married to him? They would never make the connection.”
“That argument would work both ways,” Georgiana pointed out. “If you ask me, it would cause more talk if my brother’s bride-to-be vanished. They would not miss Richard, but they would miss the future Mrs Darcy. But if you do stay, who could possibly think you were ever married to Richard and had a reason to go with him?”
“I do. I promised to be a wife to him. When he was the only one who stood by me, I made a vow. I will not revoke it when he needs someone most.” Elizabeth sniffed and tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow the lump that had become a permanent fixture in her throat. “I am the only one whocango with him, Georgiana.”
Georgiana’s fair features dropped into a pouting scowl. “You are just as stubborn as William and Richard are.”
“Well,” Elizabeth replied with a heartless chuckle, “at least I am in good company.”
“You would really do this? Go with Richard as soon as he is well enough to walk? And you do not even know where he means to go! Would you even tell Jane goodbye?”
Elizabeth blinked back a sudden film over her eyes. “I... I do not know,” she rasped. “I have already written to her three times. I expect when she and Mr Bingley return from their honeymoon…”
“If Richard has his way, you will already be gone when she gets back. Worse, if matters truly are as he says, you won’t even be able to write to us to tell us where or how you are.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. “Do you think I could not even write to Jane?”
“Will you use the name Elizabeth Fitzwilliam?”
She gestured helplessly. “I don’t think it matters what name I use. Elizabeth Bennet would be just as dangerous, depending upon where we are, I suppose.”
“But...” Georgiana said slowly, as if the thought had just occurred to her, “Elizabeth Fitzwilliam could write to me when I am in Boston. I could send word to the others. It would probably be better if you did not write to Matlock or Pemberley yourself.”
“No,” Elizabeth whispered. “I could not write to Pemberley. Georgiana, I am past caring about my own future. I have been homeless and lost before, and I can survive it again. This is all new to William—losing Richard and you, even Anne, and... and us. You’ll look after him, won’t you? You will see he does not throw his heart away and spend the rest of his life regretting it?”
“I think he has already lost his heart.” Georgiana stared glumly at the floor. “I have never seen him as he is now, and I do not think anyone can soothe him—or even speak to him.”
“Someone will.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled and threatened to break, but she forced herself to breathe... to reason. “Someday—you will see, Georgie. There is someone out there who can patch his heart and hold it together again.”
Georgiana shook her head. “No, there isn’t. There is only one of you.”
Threedayspassed—tense,miserabledays for everyone who could call themselves a resident or a guest at Matlock estate. During that time, Richard’s health improved remarkably, to the relief of some and the dread of others.
At last, came the fateful morning. Richard arose with the sun and asked for the earl’s valet to shave and dress him. Then, his posture erect and his bearing nearly as robust as it had ever been, he came below stairs. Darcy watched in a nauseated longing as Richard greeted everyone around the breakfast table and then bestowed a kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek. She received it amiably enough, but her eyes did not seek the face of her husband when he straightened. No—they fell and raised again to Darcy… then closed and turned away.
Richard filled his plate and chose the only remaining seat, between Darcy and Georgiana. Darcy, he greeted with a minuscule nod of acknowledgment and a tight smile—the sort of smile that exists between brothers who have not yet recovered from a quarrel, in which the interests of both were dearly canvassed. Richard turned to greet Georgiana with the same fond affection as Elizabeth, then settled into his plate.
