Page 82 of Her Affections and Wishes

When he finished doing them, Darcy turned them to the side and gathered her in his arms, holding her against him. As her breathing slowed, she considered asking what was the matter or waiting to see if he would admit it. He stroked a hand along her back before sighing.

“I have treated everyone in a rude manner since we arrived, have I not?”

“You have been preoccupied, and more abrupt than I would expect since you are amongst friends.” Elizabeth held him a little tighter. “I shuttered all talk of the Epsom incident. No one at Woodcote will speak of it again.”

“That is not it.”

“Is it Lydia?” she asked in some confusion. She was less untamed and noisy now that she was secure that in two years she would be Mrs Henry Tessier and be married at twenty when none of her sisters had married before twenty-one. “Her exuberance is ever present, but she⁠—”

“I hate being here,” he interrupted. “I did not want to return to the place where my wife was nearly dashed to atoms by a madwoman.”

His vehemence surprised her. “You should have said so.” She turned to her side to face him. “You made it sound like you were afraid for me to return.”

“I was,” he insisted. “I was worried about your peace of mind. I just…” His face fell, and he said quietly, “I did not realise how much being at Woodcote and Epsom would threaten my own peace.”

“I had no notion it was a struggle for you. We would never have come if I had known.”

“I did not know it would be so trying, and once we arrived, I thought I could endure it for your sake.”

She put a hand to his cheek, encouraging him to tell her.

“I cannot walk past the entrance hall without remembering how sick I felt when I saw the vase coming down on you. Every large furnishing or statue is hideous to me. The teapot with the arsenic was in the drawing room tonight. Of course, there was nothing wrong with the tea, but I could not look away from it, even though there was no threat to me or anyone else. There was a moment when I wanted to dash the cup from your hand.”

“And at the turf at Epsom today? You were in a rush to leave…”

He gave her a bleak stare. Was he remembering staring across the racecourse, by the Tattenham Corner, right where the cart was with Lady Metcalfe about to roll her out to be trampled to death in front of him? He would not want to see any gentle pity in her eyes, nor any tears on his behalf, but her heart bled for him.

He was quiet for a moment before he said, “I never told you I went to see Lady Metcalfe whilst you recovered from your concussion.”

This surprised her. “Why did you see her?” Darcy was not a man to triumph over another, no matter how much they wronged him.

“I thought since I could not see you, the next best thing would be to confront the villain who harmed you. I wanted to be sure she could never injure you again.”

“Is that the only reason?” It might have been enough, but she felt in the air there was more.

“I wanted to know if she was insane or evil,” he murmured.

“But you had no answer?”

He shook his head.

“Maybe some part of her wanted her daughter to have the man she wanted, like she never did.” Did that drive her to madness, or was it just another extension of her cruel nature?

“You give her too much credit. It was never about motherly love or even a mutual romantic one. It was a means to a selfish end. Lady Metcalfe wanted Mr Travers, unworthy though he was.”

“Did seeing her detained comfort you?” she asked, suspecting the answer.

“No.” Darcy ran his fingers through her hair. “But time did that, along with the gradual assurance that you were well.”

“And distance must have helped too, and then I brought you back to a scene of pain and misery. I am so sorry,” she whispered before kissing him. “We will leave in the morning.”

“You will think me weak.”

Did he think he had to suffer and be silent? “Does that sound like me?” she asked. “There is no one braver than you. The newspapers even said so.” This earned her a faint smile, and she felt more confident that he would be restored to his former equanimity.

“I still ought to have removed you from Epsom the moment I feared the vase did not fall on its own.”

“And I would have resented you for being suspicious and controlling. It would have made me question what sort of man was I marrying, if you had changed since Hunsford after all. Who could have guessed such a violent, irrational scheme was at play?”