Richard did not seem wholly delighted with his position. He smiled and spoke with good cheer, but it was not enough to fool anyone who had seen him in his element—a child of the sun, a man most at home when he was forging his way in the face of great odds. A fighter, a commander of men and beasts, and now he was bowing and scraping before wealthy boors, many of whom put on airs of refinement while treating a true son of nobility as their butler. It was enough to make Elizabeth’s blood boil more than once in those first two weeks, as she watched some prosperous, overweight chump doing everything but pat Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam on the head.
He passed it off as no matter. “I have had to endure far worse,” he said cryptically, and then turned the conversation to what he meant to doafter. After the next niche in the world, after the next stage in life, after they had been safe long enough to breathe.
But for Elizabeth, there was no “after.” Richard envisioned the future spread out before them as a twisting and advancing path—tangled, to be sure, but it had a destination. Elizabeth saw only an empty cavern, the walls and corners of which were so devoid of character or shape that she knew not how to begin filling it.
Therewasatimeonce when it would have been difficult even to glance at Elizabeth without rousing her notice. Alert, inquisitive, and always ready to engage, the Elizabeth he had known in Wyoming would never stare blankly at the floor while he spent uncounted minutes waiting for her to look up. The Elizabeth of today seemed to be searching, but no longer outside of herself.
Richard continued to study her—his wife. She was slimmer than before, her colour less vibrant than it once was, but still she was a woman to turn any man’s head. Even distressed and displaced as she was now, she was resilient. Patient, good-natured, pleasant company, and she seemed to like and admire him. So, what the devil was wrong with him?
He ought to be wooing her. Bringing her a daisy plucked from the flower beds, rising early to spend a few moments with her before the beginning of the day, enjoying her laughter each evening before...
Well, perhaps it was too soon for that. How was he to ask for her body when Darcy still owned her spirit? His cousin’s figure had yet to fade from her eyes, but perhaps it was because he himself had given her little else to look at.
She glanced up at last when he cleared his throat. “My dear, you seem fatigued or out of sorts this evening. Something the matter?”
“Oh... no, it is merely a headache.” Her features became contemplative, and she tilted her head to the side as if to persuade him of her discomfort.
“If you will permit me—my former batman, Giles, he had this marvellous trick. May I?”
She straightened and blinked, her entire manner curious but apprehensive.
He moved slowly, taking up his stance behind her chair and allowing his fingers to hover over the curve of her neck. She turned to look up at him, but he gently angled her head forward.
“Giles had this way,” he continued. “I admit I have never tried it myself, but he found ample opportunity to employ it on me. Perhaps I can duplicate the effect. Tilt your chin down just a bit.”
She obeyed, but her shoulders were still held high and tight as he started to work his fingertips into the base of her skull. She flinched at first—whether from pain or some other form of discomfort. He kept at it, however, and slowly, reluctantly, she let go of the air trapped in her chest.
“Was today particularly trying for you?” he asked, hoping to unlock her reserve. Good heavens, ifDarcy, the eternal stick-in-the-mud, managed to talk to this woman, certainlyhecould!
“It was nothing.”
He kneaded a hard knot at the left side of her neck and noted how her spine curved away from his fingers. Subtly—she may not have even been aware of it, but he could trace what ought to have been a straight line, and see the evidence with his own eyes. He would have to work harder.
“I heard there were several large seashells on the beach this morning. The guests were all talking about it. Surely, you must have found a great many.”
“I did not go walking this morning.”
He frowned. “But you always go. Were you feeling unwell?”
The cords of her neck tightened as she shook her head faintly.
He concealed a sigh. “Well... we are due for a day off on Wednesday. What do you say we go out together? You can show me your favourite vantage point, and then perhaps afterwards we could walk into town, view the fountains and the promenade. Perhaps a bit of ice cream. What do you think?”
The side of her cheek lifted in a soft smile. “If you like.”
Well.For a woman of such lively impertinence, she was certainly... agreeable.
“And do you know,” he forged on, “we ought to go shopping for a proper wedding ring. Anything you fancy. I saw a lady’s ring today that was white gold with sapphires and—”
She stiffened her neck out of his reach and massaged it with her own palm, then rose. “This is feeling much better, but I am afraid I am quite tired this evening.”
He dropped his hands. “Very well. Are you sure?”
She nodded, her eyes too flighty to hold his gaze for long. “I slept poorly last night, I suppose.”
“I woke you again,” he guessed. “It must have been a bad one, to wake you in the next room.”
She nibbled her lower lip. “I’ve become used to it. No, it was nothing—I was only restless.”
