Page 81 of Her Affections and Wishes

She recognised Mr Travers at a distance and made a sound of disgust as they continued on their way. He had never supported Julia or Lady Metcalfe, even going so far as to claim no connexion to either, even after the allegations made in court.

“He is a fixture at Tattersall’s betting room,” Darcy said when they were farther away. “Whatever temporary gains he wins, he gave no aid to his former lover or his natural daughter, and his father still despairs of him. I pity Lord Patten; his wayward son is in his forties and is an honourless gamester.”

“I pity Julia Metcalfe,” she insisted. “Or whatever her married name is now.”

She had been married off to someone’s tenant several months later, not the father of her child, Darcy had said, since the man was neither a viscount’s son nor a footman.

“I pity their child,” he muttered. “Any child of Julia Metcalfe’s would be a rude, spoiled child with a selfish mother and a weak natural father. Hopefully, the man who raises him will have a stronger influence.” The whole family was now notorious: sisters fallen in importance in the world, brother scarcely accepted in good circles as he came of age, and mother in Bedlam to be gaped at.

They met the carriages, and their conversation ended as Lydia and Mrs Tessier attacked them with well wishes and enthused about the people they had spoken to and the things they had purchased. Darcy contributed nothing, only taking the reins from his servant and mounting his horse. His composed mind and polite manners were put to trial for some reason. Elizabeth tried to catch his eye and force him to smile, but he only nodded and said he would await them at the house and rode off alone.

“Now, my dear girl,” said Mrs Tessier, “you shall have everything that is good and fashionable once you and Henry marry. You shall want for nothing that money can purchase. I shall be so glad to have you here with me.”

“Oh, we shall be so comfortable!” cried Lydia. “You shall in point of affection be my second mother!”

Elizabeth tried to share a smile with Darcy, but he looked away from her. They were in Woodcote’s ornate drawing room, awaiting Mrs Tessier’s guests. Henry was trying to engage his opinion or advice on some matter, but Darcy’s mind must have wandered; he stared at the teapot.

Darcy’s steadiness had helped Henry, and Lydia’s future security steadied her. If they lived with Mrs Tessier after they eventually married, they might not exceed their income, so long as their love of fashion was kept under regulation.

“Mr Darcy?” Mrs Tessier called to get his attention. “I have had a letter from Lady Catherine this week saying you are going to Kent after your stay here.”

Now he exchanged a look with her, and it was one of mutual surprise. “She is precipitous, madam,” Darcy said sharply. “She wrote to say she wished to see us, and if another letter follows with an actual apology and a promise to show my wife the respect she deserves, then I will wait on her.”

Mrs Tessier’s mouth gaped, and Elizabeth rushed to explain her husband’s abruptness. “Lady Catherine is disposed to see the people around her happy, so long as she is the one to provide them with that happiness. She blames me for ensnaring her nephew when she hoped Mr Darcy would marry Miss de Bourgh.”

All discourse between Pemberley and Rosings had been at an end after the abusive language used toward her when Darcy announced their engagement two years ago. Lady Catherine’s disappointment likely held out as long as it did since she was partly to blame. She had sent Elizabeth to Epsom to find a husband, and she did not like the one Elizabeth had found.

Other guests from the race meeting soon arrived, and the evening grew lively with cards and conversation. There was but one mention to her of the events of two years ago, but Elizabeth’s good-natured avoidance swiftly deflected it. She thought the manners and talk a significant improvement from when they were last at Woodcote. Sir John Whitney, she knew, had married a merchant’s daughter and her forty thousand pounds and at least gave the appearance of domestic happiness and fidelity.

But despite being amongst friends, Darcy sat silent, pensive, and displeased, neglecting even the common attentions that politeness required.

Within an hour, she had enough and made their excuses for the night. Darcy rose to leave with her, but his eagerness had nothing to do with any hopes he had for the rest of their evening in private and everything to do with hating the company.

“Did the mention of the Epsom incident distress you?” she asked as they dismissed their servants and readied for bed. She noted how he removed his bent coin token from his pocket and set it on the table with his watch. She wore her engraved token necklace with her morning dress every day. Darcy showered her in gifts, and she had fine gems for every occasion, but her love token remained her most treasured item next to her wedding ring.

He shrugged. “It was less than I expected.”

“Some men would be flattered by the notice of being a hero. And women so desperate for you to marry their daughters that it drives them to madness? You are strong-willed not to let that power go to your head.”

Darcy gave her a flat look over his shoulder, then resumed undressing.

“I thought it had been long enough,” she said quietly to his back. She would never deliberately hurt him. “I felt I could joke about it.”

He was still silent and not ready to tell her what was the matter. He had been abrupt and indifferent since they arrived at Woodcote two days ago. Teasing him into her confidence had not worked. There was more than one way to put him at ease or get him to confide in her, and she chose her favourite one.

“Do you know, Fitzwilliam, I think I started to fall in love with you when I first saw your room here.”

When he turned, his face was awash in confusion. “When you came to my room after your concussion? I am confident you loved me before then. You agreed to marry me a week earlier, and I know very well you would never have accepted me if you did not love me.”

She smiled and stepped closer. “I peered into your room when you showed me the miniature of Pemberley.”

“I fail to see how a room strewn with my litter of books, papers, and coats excited your feelings.”

“I saw you as a whole person, truly, for the first time,” she said, putting her arms around him. “Before, you had only been the means by which my friends had suffered, or the means by which my poor judgment was challenged. But after spending the afternoon with you, with all our misunderstandings behind us, I looked into that chamber and knew you were a person I wanted to know better.” She pulled him down closer to her lips. “Even though I feared it was too late for you to care if I ever loved you.”

Heat burned through her as Darcy wrapped his arms around her. Two years married and she still delighted in the sensation of him. Wild, passionate kisses followed. She touched him wherever she could reach, and his response was a low growl as his hands moved over her.

She pulled him along with her to the bed, leaving a trail of discarded garments and staggering the last few steps as they were tangled up in each other. He instantly stretched out on top of her, trailing kisses and nibbling along her neck, murmuring all the things he intended to do.