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She arose from the table, and the men followed suit. “I find I am still weary, so I will retire for the night.”
Once she had departed, Darcy turned to Richard, who had the air of a man who had been dragged unwillingly into a lovers’ spat. “You should accompany her to Longbourn.”
“Arriving with me would give rise to just as much speculation,” Richard said mildly. “And the War Office expects me in London tomorrow.”
Darcy slumped back in his chair, hating his cousin’s logic.
Richard waved an unconcerned hand. “Send a maid with her; she will be fine.” Darcy did not respond. “She may come around, Darce. She is not indifferent to you.”
Darcy snorted. “Yes, I do not inspire indifference. Loathing, perhaps, or nausea. But not indifference.”
“She will recognize her true feelings in time.”
Darcy gave his cousin a level look. “She hated me before all of this. And then for a week I took advantage of her ignorance, lying to her again and again.” Perhaps I should strive for indifference.
“You did it to save her life,” Richard said. “Surely she understands that.”
Darcy gripped his glass so tightly his knuckles turned white. “She did not love me—did not trust me—before. I have given her no reason to change her mind. Quite the opposite.” He downed the contents of his glass in one gulp.
“Did you offer her your hand?” Richard asked.
“Of course! What do you take me for?” Darcy poured more gin into the glass. “She does not want it, Richard.” He stared at the clear liquid, promising himself that he would get thoroughly foxed another time when he was at his leisure.
His cousin glanced at the doorway through which she had departed. “I am not certain about that.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Did you not hear what she said?”
“Aye, but I also heard what she did not say. She wishes to go back to Hertfordshire and see her family, which is perfectly understandable. She did not, for instance, declare again that you are the last man in the world she would marry.”
Darcy took a sip of the gin. “She already voiced that sentiment. It would be redundant.”
“Or she thinks it is possible she might consider marrying you.”
“Perhaps if I were the last man in the world.” Darcy’s lips twisted in a grimace.
A corner of Richard’s mouth quirked upward. “Surely you would rank above Dreyfus.”
Darcy could not prevent a chuckle from escaping. “Damn you, Cousin.”
“Wait and see,” Richard advised, slapping Darcy on the back. “She may come around.”
Darcy hardly wanted a wife who would “come around,” but additional debate would only continue the conversation, and he was weary of the subject. He downed the gin in one gulp. “You, my friend, may be optimistic if you wish, but I know what she has said to me.” He set the glass on the table with a thud. “I have no reason for hope.”
***
Darcy knew he should leave well enough alone, but Elizabeth would travel to Longbourn tomorrow while he depart
ed for Pemberley. He might never have another opportunity for a private conversation with her, or God forbid, he might never see her again. After a couple of glasses of gin with Richard, another conversation seemed like a grand idea.
After a brief visit to his room, Darcy took his candle down the corridor and knocked softly on Elizabeth’s door, hoping she had not already fallen asleep.
“Come.” Her voice was soft and low.
He opened the door slowly, peeking his head around the edge. Elizabeth sat by the window, her eyes growing wide when she saw him. “Mr. Darcy! I expected it to be Mary again.” Fortunately, she still wore the muslin gown; the nightrail would have been too great a temptation. Her hair was down, falling in dark waves around her face.
“I beg a moment of your time.”
“Of course.” She set down the book she had been reading. From where had she obtained a book? “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the chair opposite hers.
