Page 41 of Mr. Darcy’s Victorious Bride

"God, yes!" said Richard.

At the foot of the stairs he stopped. The sickroom door had closed behind Elizabeth. After a moment his aunt's voice started up again, low and stubborn, wearing the hard words smooth. She meant to practice in front of the girl she had wronged, then.

Whatever she was rehearsing, it was not in his father's hand.

CHAPTER 13

The candle had burned down to a stub before Elizabeth said it: "You did not answer me on the landing."

Fitzwilliam lay on his back beside her, one arm behind his head. He did not pretend to misunderstand. That was one of the things she loved in him. He never once pretended not to understand her. "No," he said. "I did not."

"I asked you in my letter. I asked you again with my eyes, on the stairs, and you looked at Richard." She turned on her side to face him. "Miss Bingley said I was not steady. That there were establishments for women like me. Did she say it to you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"In the summer. Here, at Netherfield. In the library, after the ball." He was looking at the ceiling. "She said it very kindly. She said something inside you might have broken, and that there were quiet places in the country where a lady might be cared for. She said it as a friend."

"As a friend." Elizabeth heard her own voice go thin. "And what did you say?"

"Nothing I would repeat to you. I came near to putting my hands on her. Then I walked out of the room." He turned his head at last and looked at her. "I told myself it was her disgrace and not yours. That you had enough to carry. That was before we swore, and I have let the date excuse me ever since. It does not. I kept the silence every day after the swearing. On the landing I kept it to your face."

The candle guttered. Elizabeth lay very still.

Elizabeth had thought she would be angry. She was angry. But underneath the anger was something that hurt far more. He had carried that word for months, alone, to spare her. Establishments. How many times had her husband looked at her across a breakfast table and wondered whether Miss Bingley was right? "Did you believe her?" she asked. "Even for a moment?"

"Never." He came up on one elbow. "Not for one moment, Elizabeth. I have watched you fight the mist a hundred times. I have never once watched you lose."

Her throat closed. She put her hand flat on his chest and felt his heart going hard under it. "Then why keep it?"

"Because I was ashamed. Not of you. Of the world, that anyone would say such a thing of you. And of myself, that I had let her say it and walk away whole." He covered her hand with his. "Add it to my account."

"I shall. It is a long account." She was quiet a moment. "I would sooner have it late from you than smooth from her."

"Then it is paid?"

"It is paid." She pressed her face into his shoulder. Then, muffled, "You truly nearly put your hands on Caroline Bingley?"

"I have never been nearer to striking a woman in my life."

A laugh escaped her, wet and undignified. "I should have liked to see her face!"

"I should not have liked you to see mine."

He kissed her hair. Then her temple, and the damp corner of her eye.

She lifted her face and found his mouth in the dark. It was not a careful kiss. It tasted of salt and of the long day behind them.

When it ended he did not let her go far. He rested his forehead against hers and breathed. "I ride at first light," he said.

"I know."

"I would rather not."

"I know that too." She slid her hand up to his jaw. The stubble was rough under her palm. "Come back to me with the trial ready."

"And my account?"