Page 13 of Yearning

“I could try,” said Richard. “But why can you not accept that she wishes to be with you?”

“It is not that I think she does not wish it,” said Mr. Darcy. “I think she does, but I…”

“You what?”

His voice came out scoured. “I love her. I love her so well, I want her to be happy more than I want to possess her.”

“God, Fitz, you—”

“I cannot possess her.”

“Look.” His cousin sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. “There are all manner of ways that two people can be intimate with each other. Perhaps, when you are better healed, you may find that you… that she…”

“No,” he said. “I do not think so.” But hearing that, it made him feel a strange ache somewhere in the midst of his chest.

“Well, it would not be the same, of course, but she loves you, Fitz, so—”

“No children, though.”

“No,” said Richard. “But I asked her about that, and she said that she cared more about having you than children.”

“Richard, I have heard her speak of her small cousins, the children of the Gardiners, and I have seen the way her face changes. She loves children.”

“Everyone loves children. They are, you know, small and charming and easily lovable.”

“Are they.”

Richard sighed heavily. “Oh, perhaps not. Perhaps they are loud and dirty and given to smearing all manner of bodily fluids in all manner of places.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But she does not think such things, regardless of how much evidence there is to see children in such a light. She loves children.”

“Perhaps it is something to ask her never to have children. I do see what you are saying, I do. It is quite a lot to ask of a woman, but I have to ask you, Fitz, what becomes of you?”

“Me?” said Darcy.

“Yes, if you send her off, then how are you going to find anyone at all—”

“Obviously, I am not going to find someone,” said Mr. Darcy. “Obviously, I’m not going to saddle anyone with the task of seeing to me.”

“But someone has to see to you,” said Richard. “Because you cannot see to yourself.”

The truth of that cut him in some way. He did not want to hear it. “I have servants,” he said tersely.

Richard glared at him. “She is right, is she not? You are falling on your sword for her?”

Darcy sighed heavily, and it hurt. It hurt everywhere. It hurt in his jaw and his not-yet-mended pelvis and at the ends of his fingers and toes where he had no fingers and toes anymore. “One of us should have a good life, Richard, and it is no longer feasible for me, so why drag her down with me?”

Richard thought about this for a time, saying nothing, simply stroking his own chin. “I don’t know if she’s going to agree with you.”

“That is why I need your help,” said Darcy.

“Here is what I shall agree to,” said Richard. “I like Miss Bennet. I would like her to be happy. So, I shall do what I can to assist her in that manner. But if she is insistent she wishes to be with you, then you are going to have to accept that.”

ELIZABETH FOUND OUT that Jane was increasing, and she smiled very brightly and laughed and embraced her sister, and inside, she felt as if she were screaming.

“I did not wish you to find out yet,” Jane said. “I have only told Charles.”

What had happened was that her husband had let it slip, saying something about climbing stairs “in your condition” and Elizabeth had known. It was foolish to think there was any issue with climbing stairs while carrying a child, of course, but Mr. Bingley was ever so besotted with his wife.