With a brusque nod, I turned from him. “Yes, I shall.” I rushed towards the stairs, heedless of the twinge that accompanied every other step. Rory, my sweet sentinel, remained constant beside me.
Darcy
I vacillated on my feet and followed Elizabeth’s progress through the hall. A subtle, yet consistent, lack of symmetry marked her gait—she favoured her right leg. With several slow breaths, I suppressed the impulse to run after her. Verily, she would not welcome my company, and I had not yet determined how toresolve our argument. I shifted at the sound of Graham clearing his throat.
“Good morning, Darcy.”
I bit back a scowl. “Good morning. Were you with Elizabeth when she fell?”
“No. I watched from a distance when she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. I regret not reaching her sooner, so I could have prevented her injury. Even from afar, I could see that she had been occupied in meditation when she slipped.” He used a maddeningly unhurried inflexion. “It would seem she had a great deal on her mind this morning.”
“I see.” I twisted my signet ring.Dash it! I ought to have been with her. Wait—what did Graham mean to insinuate by his remark? Did she tell him of our argument? She would not do that, would she?I directed a glare at Graham’s infuriatingly complacent visage.
He and I proceeded to the breakfast room, where Lady Catherine partook of a hearty breakfast. Lady Rebecca joined us fifteen minutes later. She wore a gown more suited to a formal dinner party than the morning, and it lacked a fichu. She selected a sparse helping of food before sitting in one of the open chairs near me.
Lady Rebecca inched my way. “I shall be ready whenever you want to leave.”
I leaned away from her. “If you wish to accompany me, I shall not stop you. However, I expect you will find it wearisome.”
She flashed a dazzling smile and touched my arm. “Not at all. I am eager to observe how the owner of a prosperous estate spends his day.”
Without doubt, at least one of us shall be made weary. “Very well, but I hope you will change into clothing more suited to walking out of doors.”
She looked down at her garment. “Alas, my maid neglected to pack my morning dresses. I shall make do with this one. I assure you it is suitable for walking.”
“If you say so.” My head swung towards the entrance at Elizabeth’s soft footfalls, and all else escaped my mind. She appeared a bit breathless but otherwise serene, her limp less pronounced.
Her gaze moved to include everyone at the table. “Forgive me for being late, but I had a slight mishap on my walk this morning.”
Lady Catherine smirked at her. “Ah yes, you are known to be fond of solitary jaunts in the countryside. You once did a great deal of walking all around Rosings, though you were not always alone.”
My wife glanced back at Lady Catherine as she filled her plate at the sideboard. “That is true. Rosings Park estate has an abundance of verdure, lush woods, and meadows offering picturesque walks.”
“The areas of wilderness are pretty, and my grounds are landscaped with meticulous care, but I dare say you had another motive for extending your walks to the farthest, darkest, and most secluded places.” With her eyes narrowed and her mouth wrenched in a sneer, my aunt evinced an unsavoury mixture of haughtiness and defiance. To what did she allude?
To my chagrin, Elizabeth sat on the other side of Graham, obscuring my view of her. She raised her mug of chocolate for an unhurried sip. “Well, in addition to the lure of the beautiful sights around your estate, I find the exercise from a long ramble desirable. The activity is restorative for both the mind and the body.”
“Restorative indeed.” Lady Catherine mumbled the words into her cup of tea.
Deuced old woman. When would she relinquish this senseless animosity for Elizabeth?
Chapter 5: Elizabeth Fixes upon a Lofty Goal
Darcy
Upon my return to the house that afternoon, I went to the nursery, where Bennet greeted me with a hug. I sat in a chair whilst my son played on the floor with his two favourite wooden horses. In his presence, a feeling of lightness pervaded me despite my lingering distress over the argument with Elizabeth.
Bennet had learned to amuse himself with his toys. Nevertheless, it would be wonderful if he had a brother or sister as a companion. My early life had been lonely at times, but I had benefited from a close bond with my Fitzwilliam cousins, Richard and Henry. So far, Bennet had but one cousin, two-year-old Charlie Bingley. My heart warmed at the thought of my sister, Georgiana, becoming a parent one day.
Six months ago, Georgiana had married our cousin Richard, a former army colonel. Upon their engagement, Richard had retired from the military and sold his commission. They had settled into a modest estate, Willow Manor, thirty miles from Pemberley and a similar distance from the Fitzwilliam family estate, Bellwood Hall. Richard had received Willow Manor as a gift from his mother, Lady Matlock.
Richard’s declaration of his deep and enduring love for Georgiana—expressed with an uncharacteristic confluence of stuttering and hesitation—had come as a relief; Georgiana had already confided her abiding affection for him, and I welcomed the notion of my closest cousin and most trusted friend becoming my brother.
Would that I could be as articulate and measured as Richard. My behaviour last night with Elizabeth exemplified my worst shortcomings.
I managed a smile for Bennet, yet key statements from the argument with Elizabeth revolved again in my head. I should not have allowed my anger to rule me. But how should I have responded to her outrageous accusation? Since our marriage, I could no longer sleep well without her, and last night had been no exception.
Yet my reviews of our conversation failed to settle anything in my mind. Her allegation had rent me like a thousand shards of glass, impeding my ability to think and bringing me back to that day in Kent when I first proposed marriage to her. The mixture of hurt and outrage that had assailed me then returned in full force. I could still picture her asserting that I harboured, among other things, “selfish disdain for the feelings of others.”
