Darcy hesitated, then nodded a silent acknowledgement.
“And you, Georgiana, I hear you are for Boston later this summer. There was a time I would have taken your brother to task for even entertaining such an idea, but I suppose I have no right to object now. Write to me often, won’t you, dearest?”
“Only if you promise to write to me first,” Georgiana retorted with a saucy smirk.
“Oh! I see my sweet cousin has been taking lessons in impertinence from my wife! I would ask you to forgive me, Darcy, but I quite like what Elizabeth’s influence has done in our dear girl. And you are grown magnificently, Georgie. Any man who dares to take you on had better prove himself worthy of such a creature. I dearly hope I am up to such a task myself.”
Darcy lowered his cup with a reverberating clatter and pushed to his feet. “Excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” Richard asked in surprise. “I was about to ask you whatever came of Anne. No one has told me a thing about her or why she is not here.”
Darcy paused on his way out of the room and glanced over his shoulder. “She found someone who made her happier than I could.”
Chapter 47
Elizabethspentanhourwith the countess and the dowager that morning. Tears were shed, yes, but after that, wisdom and practicality became the order of the day. Lady Matlock was disappointed that she was to be once again cheated out of planning a grand Darcy wedding, with all the resources of Pemberley and her own ingenuity to make it the event of the season. But she consoled herself with the fact that Elizabeth was, once again, her sister, and would bring much good to the earl’s brother in his life’s sojourn.
Through that sweet parting, Elizabeth tried to focus her thoughts on the cares of the moment—no more. She would never have expected the two noblewomen to prove the very iron to gird her spirit, but such they were in these final hours. Alas, the dowager was no young woman. When her eyes grew visibly weary, Elizabeth withdrew, making the excuse that she had business with her maid, letters to write, and final preparations to undertake.
The truth was none of these. The truth was that her beating heart was just as weary as the dowager’s mortal coil, and the fatigue would surely reduce her once more to tears if she lingered.
A maid met her as she came out of the room. “Excuse me, ma’am, but Jenny is waiting in your room to help you change into your riding habit.”
“Riding habit?”
“Yes, ma’am. Mr Darcy informed us you wished to go out this morning. The horses are already waiting in the courtyard.”
Elizabeth caught her lip between her teeth.A ride with William…It was the most reckless idea she could conceive.
It was also just how she would wish to say goodbye to him. There could be no more fitting tribute to their time together, no purer seal to their final moments than a sunlit afternoon by his side. No ears to hear their parting words, and yet the space of horseflesh would be between them, to help her remain strong.
“Tell Mr Darcy I will only be a few moments,” she decided.
William was waiting for her just before the stables. He stood straight and proud, and anyone would think he was only anticipating a pleasure outing. Anyone but her, for she could see what others might not notice—the largeness of his pupils, the faint tremor in his smile, and the way his shoulders were not quite so erect as in former days. He held Sage’s head, and just beside her, his own big hunter, the one she thought was still at Pemberley.
“I thought you would like a farewell ride on her.” His voice sounded clearer than she expected, but just at the end, the final note dropped tellingly.
She approached and laid her hand on the mare’s neck. “You're not thinking of coaxing me into running away, are you?”
His mouth tightened. “I would if I thought you would ever run from anything. Fear not, Elizabeth, it is only a ride. May I help you to mount?”
She turned slightly to him, meaning to accept, then thought better of it. “I can manage.” One last time, she touched Sage on the shoulder, and the little mare bent the knee so she could step up.
“Where shall we go?”
He looked as if he had some inspiration and caught his breath to speak, but the light in his eyes dimmed. “Anywhere. I just need the exercise, and I daresay you do, as well.”
They turned up the lane, neither knowing where their steps would carry them. No words passed for a long while, nor did they dare look at one another. It was more than they could have hoped to just walk side-by-side, feeling the steady sway of equine muscles, the even clapping of iron shoes on the gravel.
“Will you take her back to Pemberley?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes on the mare’s bobbing head.
His answer was slow in coming. “Yes. Though, I doubt I shall ever ride her again myself. I ought to leave polo to the younger lads, and she seems to enjoy being a lady’s mount better. Perhaps Georgiana will take a liking to her.”
“I hope so.” Elizabeth patted the mare’s shoulder wistfully. “She deserves someone to look after her.”
“So do you,” William blurted, but by the time Elizabeth looked over at him, his lower lip was already compressed in regret. “Forgive me. I ought not to have said that.”
“I was actually thinking the same about you,” she replied softly. She longed to say more—to ask how he would manage with everyone, even Georgiana, gone, but the answer already shone in his face. He was dying inside, and these cherished few minutes were his final reprieve. She would not fracture them with talk of the future they both looked to in dread.
