Page 77 of Yearning

The driver was down on the ground, talking through the open carriage door with someone inside.

She stalked over to the carriage. “Not even saying goodbye, I see!”

The door to the carriage opened and Mr. Darcy climbed out. He leaned heavily on the cane that was attached to his stump. His face was haggard, his eyes red-rimmed, as if he had been weeping.

She folded her arms over her chest.

“I thought better of it,” he said to her.

“Of leaving?” She gestured to the carriage. The rage in her was leaking out in her voice.

He nodded, curt. “It was the wrong thing to do. I did not see it at first. I was caught up in my habitual feelings of inadequacy. I thought that I could have killed her, and that I was dangerous if I were around women and children, and that the honorable thing to do would be to get myself free of you—”

“Mr. Darcy, you are exhausting!” she snapped. “Why must I spend all my time convincing you that you are man enough?”

“I—” He jerked his head down, unable to meet her gaze.

“Lily was frightened. It took me a great deal of time to calm her. I could have used your help.”

He swallowed. He said nothing.

“What do you think would have happened if it was Baron Hellig out there? With his heart giving out the way it did? He might have died trying to get her down.”

“Certainly,” he said. “I realize it was not honor to leave a woman and child all on their own simply because I am not what other men are. I realize that running from you, it was only cowardice. It was not honor, it was despicable.”

“Quite,” she said, lifting her chin.

He was still not looking at her. “However, I realized I do not know how to stay. I do not know how to come back into the house and be here with you. Some part of me had been waiting for this, I think. That part of me thought this would always be temporary. That part of me was convinced that I was no good for you, and that I must keep my distance from you so that you could have a full and happy life with someone else.”

“But—”

“Not all of me,” he said with a sigh. “But enough that I don’t know how…” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Perhaps you do not wish me to stay now.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She put her hands on her hips. “If I told you to go? If I told you to go away and never come back?” Her voice cracked.

“Indeed, I would not like it.” His voice cracked too.

She was suddenly assailed by tears. They were coming for her, and she tried to fight them.

But his lower lip was trembling, too.

She looked away, and she moved her hands to wrap them around her own waist.

“Elizabeth, I am sorry.”

“Good, that’s good,” she managed, as her eyes swam with tears. “You should apologize.”

“I am sorry I went off with Lily like that. I do have limitations. We must be aware of them. They may not be as dire as I keep insisting they are, but they do exist.”

“Oh, Lily is all right,” she said. “She is a frustrating child. I have spoiled her. Her father very much spoiled her. She has not been denied enough in her life. It is hard to deny her things. Perhaps it is my fault. Perhaps I have not taught her to mind as I should have.”

“It was my fault,” he said.

“It was not entirely your fault,” she said. “She would have done it with anyone.”

“Well,” he said. “Be that as it may. It is not all I must apologize for. I am sorry I thought to abandon you. You said to me that you would have agreed that I must leave you to your husband all those years ago, but that I did not consult you. And I was leaving without any word at all. I can’t imagine you would have been pleased to find me gone without even a conversation. That was cruel of me. I was thinking of myself, of my own self-pity. I told myself it was for you, but if I had a thought for you, I would have spoken to you first.”

“Yes, quite,” she said.