“I shall do no such thing. I must reach Pemberley in all haste.”
“Georgiana is quite safe,” Bingley protested. “The colonel made certain of that, and Miss Elizabeth will have seen to her comforts. You needn’t kill yourself trying to assure them both that you live.”
“I willnottake a carriage!” Darcy repeated firmly. “Just the clothing and a little money for expenses. I shall reimburse you as soon as I may.”
“Oh, hang your money, Darcy! You are back from the dead! We must celebrate! I imagine there may be some legal difficulty by this time, but surely the earl can be depended upon for his advice—”
“No! Do not tell anyone that you have seen me, particularly not my relations!”
“But why ever not? Only think how relieved the colonel will be! He has gone off on some business on the continent. I know not when he shall have returned, but surely—”
“Tellno one!” Darcy roared. “Not a single soul!”
Bingley’s brow furrowed in hurt and confusion. “Well, if you insist, old boy. But wherehaveyou been?”
Darcy growled darkly. “In hell.”
Chapter thirty
Pemberley
“Atlast,whatafine day! Are we really to go all the way to that hill in the distance? Lizzy, Georgie, neither of you ever told me Pemberley’s grounds were so extensive!” Lydia bounced giddily in the seat of the phaeton, admiring the little grey ponies, waving at the groundskeeper, and straining to see the farthest reaches of the horizon.
Elizabeth cringed, imagining the jostling her sister was giving her poor babe—not to mention the discomfort of avoiding Lydia’s elbows as she wiggled about. “Lydia, it is rather close on this seat for you to move quite so much!”
“Well, Lizzy, if you would only have brought out the larger carriage, we would have had so much more room. I am not so small as I used to be, you know.”
“It is notmycarriage, Lydia. Therefore, the choice was not my own,” Elizabeth pointedly reminded her.
Georgiana grinned shyly as she expertly tugged the reins of their ponies. “Do you not like my phaeton, Lydia? Fitzwilliam gave it to me two years ago, because he thought I might like driving it myself. It seems so much more private than having a horde of servants about whenever I wished to drive out. Besides, there are places on the estate where one cannot drive a larger carriage.”
“Yes, but how ever were you to take an entire party? Why, we are snug with only the three of us. You would be hard put to bring a gentleman along, as well as your chaperon! I suppose, perhaps, you might have left your chaperon to ride in another carriage,” Lydia giggled wickedly.
Georgiana innocently protested that such a notion could never have crossed her mind, while Elizabeth turned her face away, biting her upper lip in consternation bordering on irrational laughter. Say what one might of Lydia’s present trials, she was ever in search of ways to amuse herself.
“What a lovely lake!” Lydia was now exclaiming. “Georgie, do let us stop and have a look.”
Lake?Elizabeth jerked her head about. There was the hedge, the one around which he had walked that hot summer day with his dripping shirt unbuttoned, and his coat draped casually over his arm. The startled, helpless look on his face: she could still recall it to memory as easily as if it had been mere moments ago.William….
Her throat grew tight and she tapped urgently at Georgiana’s shoulder. “Oh, no, not today,” she begged. “Surely it will still be very damp there. See how low it is, with the trees hanging all round? Let us go up that hill to the north, as we proposed to do.”
Georgiana complied, trotting her diminutive team up the well-groomed drive. A short way on, she turned off to what appeared little more than a footpath. Half an hour more they jogged, twisting round the back side of a little slope, and up a modest gully until they wound up to a hidden, flat meadow. It formed the top of a small knoll, set against a large rock that had tumbled down from the larger hill just beyond. A modest stand of trees near the rock shaded a thin trickle of water, not large enough to be dignified as a true stream, and several respectably sized stones made for capital seats all round.
“There, what do you think?” Georgiana gestured proudly.
Lydia was gushing her verbose approval as Georgiana secured the ponies. The two younger girls disembarked from the phaeton, but Elizabeth remained still. This hushed little place, secret from the world, seemed too hallowed to shatter its calm with words. She closed her eyes, allowing the first hints of spring breezes to drift the scents of new blackthorn blossom, damp earth, and tender grass to her senses.
He must have loved it here,some instinct whispered to her. Cautiously, peeking to be certain that the others did not see, she slid her hand onto the seat, wishing she could feel warm fingers enclosing over her own. A tickle, a soft touch, a sweet scent….
Elizabeth opened her eyes and discovered that a tiny blackthorn petal had fallen to brush the back of her hand. She glanced to where Georgiana and her sister were settling themselves near the brook, then back behind herself, from where the breeze had come. Tucked behind two smaller trees was a stately older one of a different sort—neither near enough the water to drink from it as they did, nor fully removed from their proximity. Aloof and brooding it seemed, taller and broader than all the rest.There, that inner voice pulled at her.
Elizabeth looked once more to the others, then dropped down from the phaeton. She tiptoed reverently near the old tree, then slid her hand up the trunk as she gazed up through sunlit branches. One thick arm stood proudly out from the main trunk, and her fingers traced over its surface. She smiled a little as she detected a worn place near its crotch, where the grooves in the bark had been burnished smooth—a simple haven seemingly made specifically for sunny afternoons with a book. A perfect retreat this tree would have made for a quiet boy on a family picnic, or a young man temporarily escaping his cares at home while keeping up on his studies.
Her fingers were still caressing the place, but her eyes burned with that familiar sting. This little sanctuary could have been their own! Had she not been so willfully deceived, so foolishly proud of despising him for the wrong reasons, he might have brought her here last summer as his bride. Everything she had touched so far, each effort lovingly exerted to help Georgiana step into her new role, might have instead been spent in partnership withhim. But, no, she had destroyed any hope of that, cast it away with both hands.
She bowed her head as a tear slipped down the bridge of her nose. She caught another with her tongue, savouring its bitter taste as a penance for all her wrongs.William!her heart pleaded.I cannot do this any longer!
Why,whyhad she ever agreed to come here? A mistake, a hideous, agonising mistake, that she had ever given in to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s demands, or Georgiana’s mournful pleas. What business had she here, wandering about his house, playing surrogate mistress in his home, while Georgiana decided whether she would grow up and take her rightful place? It was wrong, wicked even, to walk his halls listening for his voice, and to lie awake in her bed each night until that spectre of him spoke into her ear, kissing her to sleep.
