“I suspect you wanted Anne to be available to wed in the event you did not find anyone else you liked better.” My breath caught in my throat as his face hardened into a cold mask of indignation. He had not appeared so harsh since that disastrous evening at Hunsford years ago when I had rejected him so cruelly. But despite my enormous regret for my behaviour back then, under the current circumstances, his expression only fuelled my anger.
“Is this what you think of me?”
I remained motionless, my eyes downcast.
“Your lack of reply is answer enough.” His bitter remark chilled me like an icy wind. “Since you are determined to believe the worst of me, I shall spend the night in my own room.” He stamped out of the chamber, closing the door behind him with a thump.
I winced and wrapped my arms around myself. A gloom descended upon me in the dismal silence of the chamber. Although I could not bring myself to regret my reasoning, my tone may have been severe. Should I go and apologize? After several minutes of internal debate, I repulsed the idea. We needed a period of reflection before we could speak of this with composure.
Saturday, 16 September
Elizabeth
With only Rory for company, I ventured out on one of my favourite paths as the sun crept over the horizon. My hope that Fitzwilliam would return to my room the night before had ended in disappointment, and my slumber had been fitful. It seemed I could no longer sleep well without him.
Aside from one overnight trip he had undertaken without me, we had slept apart just once before—when an argument had arisen over the subject of my walking alone around Pemberley. Fitzwilliam had insisted I always take a servant with me, and I voiced my objection in a loud and strenuous fashion. We had reconciled the next morning, reaching a compromise: I agreed toalways inform one of the servants of my destination and to have Rory accompany me.
I had risen and dressed for my walk with no sign of Fitzwilliam. He usually woke before me, so he must have left—possibly to go to his study or out riding. I stopped at the nursery to spend half an hour with Bennet without encountering my husband and resisted the temptation to inquire after him.
The path brought me to a headland reminiscent of Oakham Mount, my beloved walking destination near my father’s estate in Hertfordshire. I stopped to appreciate the prospect of the moorlands below before continuing downwards on the rocky, steep path at my usual swift gait. My heated words with Fitzwilliam dominated my thoughts. Had my accusation been unfair? I could not conceive of an unselfish reason for him to not tell his aunt and cousin his intentions.
Nevertheless, this family matter had originated long ago. Did I have the right to criticise his actions, or inactions, before we met? Perhaps I did, since the events of the past affected us now—and according to his aunt, Cousin Anne still suffered from disappointed hopes.
No doubt Lady Catherine had misrepresented her late sister’s wishes and deserved most of the blame for her daughter’s unhappiness. But Fitzwilliam shared a portion of the culpability. Why had he persisted in denying any responsibility in the matter? As much as I loved him, I found it difficult to respect his views on this topic.
Bother—I never related Lady Catherine’s object in coming to Pemberley. And today, Lady Rebecca would—
Oh! My foot slipped on the loose gravel, propelling me forwards, and my hands flailed in a futile attempt to right myself. My knee and palms struck the craggy ground, and I cried out before collapsing sideways, landing upon my bottom. Witha high-pitched bark, Rory raced to me. He sniffed my hand and licked my chin, emitting a soft whine.
“I am well, my boy.” At least I should be in a moment.
With my heart thundering, I rose carefully on trembling legs and brushed off the dirt and tiny rocks that clung to my dress. A jagged tear defaced the citron fabric of my skirt, and a stinging pain raged from my knee. I inspected my aching hand, which had sustained a small abrasion from my attempt to break my fall.
I bent down to view the damage to my right leg. An ugly, but superficial, scrape marred the area over my patella.
A shadow fell over me, and Rory’s barks rang in my ears. I recoiled, and my head shot up as I pushed down my skirt and straightened. Graham stood before me, an apparition in a bright green coat.Impossible!How had he appeared so suddenly and without making a sound? My dog took a position at my side, watching Graham’s every move.
“Elizabeth, are you hurt? I saw you take a fall.” Folds darkened his brow.
For a moment, I floundered, placing most of my weight on my left leg to spare my stinging knee. “I…um…”
He grasped my forearm to steady me. “You are injured!”
“No, no. I am well.”
At Rory’s low, steady growl, I gave him a pat. “All is well, boy.”
“You are bleeding.” Graham pointed to the red-stained, torn area of my dress.
“Just a little. I slipped on the loose gravel and have a couple of scratches—nothing of concern.” I took in the panorama around us. “Where did you come from?”
Releasing my arm, he pointed behind him. “I took the road from Lambton, saw you here on the path, and came to meet you.”
I raised my hand to shade the glare from the morning sun. “But if you came from the road, I should have perceived you.”
“You did not notice me because I left the road to take a short-cut through the brush. And from my observation, you lacked your usual relaxed comportment and seemed to be in a pensive state.”
For a few minutes, my argument with Fitzwilliam had escaped my thoughts. “Yes, that is true.”
