“You could prevent her leaving, and we could try to think of something.”
“Mmm, I could keep her locked in that room as I had threatened to do.” Something rose in his voice.
“But I suppose what I principally want is for her to be gone,” said Elizabeth.
“Yes, I quite agree,” he said. “So, perhaps we let her go.”
She pressed her hand into his chest. “Why have you taken on the responsibility of his child, Mr. Darcy? Why have you agreed to it? It could be your heir, and I have gathered that you are willing to do that, and I have not questioned it, but I worry you will regret doing such a thing for me. I worry I am not going to be everything you think I am.”
He smiled down at her. “I plan to break the entail. We’ll have other children. There will be more than one heir, Lizzy. I shall divide everything between them. So, you see, it doesn’t matter. And if there are rumors, they will only be that, you know? They will not be legalities. They will not prevent a child that I have claimed from inheriting or from anything of that nature. Now, I suppose, if Wickham recovers and he knows, he could make trouble—”
“I have convinced him that the babe is yours, I think,” she broke in.
He furrowed his brow. “You went to see him?”
She sighed. “It was your sister’s idea. But he seemed to accept it readily. He said it was no wonder you tried to kill him.”
“That lessens his villainy towards you if I had already compromised you. I don’t like him thinking that.”
“Oh, please, Fitzwilliam, it’s better this way. I don’t want him to ever try to claim the child.”
“No, agreed,” he said. “Perhaps it is the same as Caroline. It is only, my love, why is it that all of these people who have been so wretched to you are suffering no consequences?”
“He is likely dying from that bullet wound you gave him,” she said, patting her husband-to-be’s chest. “I think he suffers.”
Mr. Darcy considered this. “Why did Georgiana wish to go and see him?”
“She said she did not know exactly. I think she wanted to see if he suffered,” said Elizabeth. “He tried to apologize to both of us. He is very, very pathetic at this point, you know.”
“Yes,” muttered Mr. Darcy. “So he is.”
Perhaps there was nothing for any of it, in the end. Perhaps others’ suffering did little to ease the suffering they had inflicted in the first place.
Perhaps there was nothing to do about suffering except endure it.
“NO,” MR. DARCYsaid to her later, when she voiced this thought to him idly. “No, we must not look at it all the time is all. There are things here, things that are not suffering, not even close to suffering, and we must focus on them.”
It was just after luncheon, and she had been hiding in her room at the dower house until the Bingley sisters finally left. It had taken them all morning to get themselves together and then they had demanded to be fed something before they left, since it had gotten so late, and finally, now, they were gone.
Immediately upon their departure, Mr. Darcy had appeared at the door of the dower house, and they were now in the sitting room together, all alone, entirely unchaperoned, everything very improper.
“What things must we focus on then?” she said, giving him a smile.
“Well, I am glad we’re not in a carriage bound for Scotland, truly,” he said. “I could have done all manner of things withyou in a carriage, certainly, but we can find a more comfortable venue for them here.”
“I suppose I’m to stay in the dower house for the time being.”
“I haven’t decided,” he said, giving her a wicked grin. “I think I could simply move you in ahead of the marriage, keep you in my bedchamber every night, and every afternoon, and for half of the morning—”
“Mr. Darcy!” She was giggling. She felt the laughter like something effervescent.
“At any rate, who would stop me?” he said.
“Well, I don’t know if I wish that to be the way things begin with me meeting all the servants,” she said. “I imagine they are going to have a low opinion of me, regardless, of course, but we must not make it worse.” She gestured around. “I am rather settled here, at any rate, and if you do not mind coming here every night and every afternoon and—”
“I do not mind a bit,” he said, smiling at her, “but is that any different from the perspective of the servants?”
“No, I suppose not,” she said. “I suppose I am a scarlet woman no matter what I do at this point.”
