Page 60 of Yearning

“You would not mind if I raise your child?”

“Oh, it cannot be my child! I did not spend in her!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ELIZABETH WAS STUNNED when Mr. Darcy appeared at the dower house. She had seen him a time or two, from afar, on his fake leg, with that brace on his arm that went down to a cane so that he could balance, but very rarely, because he seemed to take care to make sure that they would not see each other.

After he had refused that letter she sent, after he had never come to her husband’s viewing or his funeral, after he had not come in the weeks that came after or the months that passed here in the country, and after he had seemingly disappeared himself—she inquired and heard he was no longer in London, but no one could tell her where exactly he had gone—she had quite given up on him.

She was angry, in fact.

She was so angry that she would have liked to have hurt him the way he had hurt her.

“I had half a mind,” she greeted him, when she entered the sitting room where she had kept him waiting for nearly forty minutes, “to simply have them tell you that I was not at home.”

“Hello, Elizabeth,” he said. “You are looking well.”

She huffed and sat down on a couch. “You are looking well, too, but I suppose I should not have been surprised. One of the last things you said to me was that perhaps you had not realized how much it was you could do. And here you are, walking.”

He had risen to receive her, and now he sat down as well. He began to undo the brace on his arm, working deftly at the leather buckles. “I suppose I should begin by apologizing.”

She folded her arms over her chest and waited.

He did not meet her gaze. “I am sorry. It was only that it was the right thing to do, and it was necessary, and I cannot see how it really could have gone differently.”

“Oh, you cannot?” Her voice was rising. She shot to her feet. “Your idea of an apology leaves much to be desired, I must say. Perhaps that should conclude our visit. I wish you luck in the rest of your endeavors.”

He looked up at her, surprised. “Oh, all right. Well, if you do not mind, then, let us come right to it, and then I shall leave you be forever, I suppose. I can make Richard break his engagement and offer for you. I understand that he has, erm, well, that he has neglected his responsibilities towards you. His excuse is that he thinks you want me, so please confirm that is not the case, and I shall go to him and—”

“Stop.” She sat back down again.

He was buckling up his brace again.

She licked her lips. “So, he knows, then? He knows? Because I have not said anything to anyone, and I do not see why it must be any sort of scandal. My husband did not suffer from some long illness. He was hale and hearty and then cut down suddenly. I could say that the getting of the babe on me was what caused his heart to fail, I think. So, I did not think that… that Richard needed to know.”

“He knows,” said Mr. Darcy.

“And now you know.” Her lower lip trembled. “And how do you feel?”

He gave her a small smile. “You were rather radiant before when you were with child, I seem to remember. I have nothing to complain about in that regard, I do not think.”

She let out a breath. “No?”

He shook his head.

She stood up again. “Then where have you been?”

He grimaced. “All right, I suppose that perhaps knowing that you had taken up with him, at one point, I did feel envy, and I felt inadequate, and I thought—”

“He told you of it? Was he simply bragging to you that he had convinced me to take him into my bed, because it was not even really like that, truly, although I suppose you do not wish to know about that—”

“Perhaps I do,” he interrupted. “He said a number of odd things, that he began to think of you like a sister or something—”

“What?” She was horrified.

“Quite,” said Mr. Darcy, shaking his head. “But, erm, no, he did not tell me of it. I came to see you, and I saw him leaving your house, sans shirt.”

“Oh!” She put a hand to her chest. “Oh, you were there? Outside?”