Page 34

D arcy stood with both hands on the kitchen counter, trying to calm his breathing and talk himself down.

His mind’s eye replayed the end of that scene over and over, like a film that burned out and restarted again.

The fear in her eyes when he approached her—could it be that she actually was afraid of him? An unbearable thought.

He could hear her footsteps running up the stairs, running away from him, because he frightened her, because…she despised him. Bile rose from his stomach into his throat. In a blind daze, he opened the kitchen door and stalked out into the night.

The dusk had turned to dark since they’d come home, and a waning gibbous moon cast an eerie silver glow on his familiar landmarks. He walked in another world, a world so topsy-turvy he couldn’t find his way—a place where up was down and right was left—and love was anger.

He strode on, glancing up at the barn.It was his preferred place to go when he wanted to think things through, but his last memories of that place were filled with his wife’s desire-flushed face, the sounds of her taking her pleasure, and the heady scent of her aroused body.

He would never be able to enter the hayloft again without thinking of her.

No. Reasoned contemplation would not be possible in the hayloft—at least, not tonight.

He passed the barn and walked the perimeter of the nearby fields, listening to the trees by the creek rustling in the darkness.

As he walked, a raindrop fell on his hand, but when he looked up at the sky, it was clear and bright.

He realized then that the raindrop was a tear and rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyes.

He couldn’t remember the last time he shed tears—maybe when his mother died. Whenever it was, it was long, long ago.

He continued over the hill and down around the pond, seating himself beside the black water.

A gentle breeze barely disturbed the surface.

He picked up a small rock and tossed it into the pond, listening to the resounding “plunk.” He watched the waves spread further and further out, until they covered all of the pond’s visible surface, reflecting a distorted image of the moonlight.

Funny how one little rock can move all that water.

Like one young woman could change my entire life.

Was she right about him? About him looking down on her family? About the way he treated her? About her sister?

He squirmed uncomfortably. Not for the first time, he thought that maybe he’d made a mistake.Or, not a mistake exactly, but perhaps there had been another solution, one that would have allowed Charles to pursue his business and his interest in Jane Bennet.

But Elizabeth was definitely wrong about George Wickham. Darcy had made a grave mistake keeping that knowledge from her; he could see that now. Of course, her natural empathy would rise to the surface under the spell of an experienced liar like Wickham.

Richard had told him the man had been seen in Brighton a few days ago, but that was fifteen miles away.

They thought he would be smart enough to stay away from Meryton, but perhaps not.

Or possibly, Wickham thought there was something in Meryton or at Pemberley that was worth the risk of showing his face there. Darcy’s blood grew cold with fear.

He would definitely warn Elizabeth about Wickham now, and he would have to warn Georgiana, too, however much he wished he could spare her that worry.

She was safe enough at the cottage, but she wouldn’t be able to go into town unescorted until the scoundrel left the area.

How he dreaded telling her the bad news!

After two years of relative peace, he could no longer protect her from that man. Their reprieve was apparently over.

He stood up, pulling out his pocket watch and tilting it to see the hands in the moonlight.

It was close to midnight; he had been out by the pond for hours.

Elizabeth would probably be asleep by now.

Images of her in peaceful slumber floated across his mind and made his heart ache.

He considered going to her but eventually decided he wouldn’t disturb her tonight.

He would sleep in the guest room and figure out how to mend this rift between them. Tomorrow.

William woke to bright sunshine and the smell of bacon drifting up from the kitchen.

There was no alarm clock, but the sun was high, and he felt a pang of guilt.

He rarely slept this late. Sitting up, he shook his head, disoriented, before remembering why he was sleeping in his guest room.

Elizabeth would probably be out at her garden by now.

He sighed, threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.

It was time to get up and face the music.

Downstairs, he encountered Mrs. Reynolds, brewing coffee and gathering eggs, grits, and bacon for his breakfast.

“Well, good morning, sleepy head,” she said, teasing. “Can’t remember the last time you came downstairs after seven o’clock.”

He cleared his throat.“Yes, well, I was up late last night and overslept, I suppose.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I guess Mrs. Darcy has already eaten.”

“Haven’t seen her yet this morning.” She stopped and turned to him, concerned. “You mean you haven’t seen her either?”

They stood staring at each other for a long minute.

“Will you excuse me, please?Just cover up my plate. I’ll eat it later.” He left the room and ascended the stairs, two at a time.

He threw open the door to their bedroom.

The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in.

He went over to the window and peered out toward her garden, but no one was there.

Turning back to the room, he opened the closet.

Her travel bag was missing, as well as some of her clothes.

His heart began to pound as he rummaged through their room, looking for any evidence of where she might have gone in the middle of the night. On foot, no less!

After looking around frantically, he glanced down at the bedside table.

Lying atop her copy of Persuasion was a white envelope with his name on it.

She had been reading the novel to him in the evenings before bed.

He tore open the envelope and read her slanted script.

What he saw on the page made his heart sink into his boots.

William,

Please don’t be concerned. I have gone back to Longbourn. I didn’t know what to do or where else to go. I’m very confused, and I need some time to think.

Elizabeth

He sat down on the bed, his head dropping into his hands. Then he remembered the last words he said to her.

“Get out.”

Anguish rose up as realization dawned. “Lizzy, no. I didn’t mean...” The letter fluttered to the floor.

William threw himself into physical labor that day, pushing to a level of exhaustion that would keep him from thinking about his predicament.

When he returned late that evening, he ate the dinner Mrs. Reynolds had put back for him, sitting alone at the dining room table, while she worked in the kitchen before retiring to her quarters.

The dear woman said not a word to him about the glaring absence of his wife.

He wondered if she had heard them arguing the night before.

Her only acknowledgment of his trouble was to look down into his eyes when she served him his meal, give him a wistful smile, and pat his cheek in a motherly fashion.

He mechanically went through the motions of bathing and dressing for bed, and mercifully, fell asleep with the lamp on, only to be awakened in the dark hours before dawn.

Unable to return to the blissful ignorance of his dreams, he reached for the book Elizabeth had left on the nightstand.

He recalled the way her eyes sparkled when she told him why she loved this story so much.

“It’s about second chances. How it’s never too late to find happiness.

It’s just the kind of story we all need to hear right now.

Anne Elliot loses her home at Kellynch and the life she was supposed to have, but she finds a future that’s better than she ever dared to hope.

Well, we haven’t gotten to that part yet, but you’ll see. ”

Knowing her the way he did now, he understood why the story appealed to her.

The main character’s predicament was similar to her own, and like Anne Elliot, Elizabeth’s steady temperament and thoughtful intelligence was the calm center in the storm of her family.

She had always been the one on whom the others relied, in one way or another.

Why had he been so suspicious of her “missing” funds?

Convinced she was squirreling away money to leave?

After a moment’s consideration, he knew why—because it was her departure he now feared the most. But it was much more in character for her to take her resources and spend them on her family.

As if she had to choose either them or herself! Headstrong, obstinate girl!

He shook his head in confused disbelief. Why hadn’t she come to him with her concerns? Did she honestly think he would refuse her anything?

Perhaps you wouldn’t have outright refused, but would you have expressed disapproval?

Yes, maybe he would have, and that would have embarrassed her.

Suddenly, her new interest in that huge garden and learning to preserve food made perfect sense.

She was going to share the fruits of her labor, and apparently, she would do so behind her father’s back.

Was Dr. Bennet that unobservant? Or would he have simply let her take care of his problem without even acknowledging her efforts?

Darcy’s heart gave a painful little twist of sympathy before his anger ignited again.

But it was wrong of her to deceive me! I can’t believe s he accused her father and me of stupid pride, when in truth, she is as prideful as we are.

That thought, that she had some human foibles after all, was oddly comforting to him. He found her all the more endearing for her flaws.

He glanced down at the page; the words there floating into his mind as they might have sounded in her sweet, lilting voice.This scene was near the end of the story, the surreptitious delivery of Captain Wentworth’s letter, followed by its contents.

“…I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul…”

Suddenly, he sat straight up. He leapt out of bed and pulled on his trousers.

It occurred to him that Captain Wentworth may have been on to something.

Was there a way William could express his thoughts without the overwhelming distraction of his wife’s presence?

Whenever she was before him, all well-rehearsed speeches and his best laid plans flew out the window, and he did stupid things, like try to force her affections with a kiss.

He walked down the stairs to his study, struck by how empty the house seemed without her in it.

He didn’t know how they would fix this mess in which they found themselves, but he knew he had to start by being honest with her—about Jane, about her family, and about Wickham.

He pulled out paper and a pen and began to write.

Darcy’s truck rumbled slowly up the gravel path near the Longbourn barn, interrupting the rhythm of his father-in-law’s work. Dr. Bennet leaned on the handle of his shovel and watched as Darcy stepped out and slammed the truck door.

As he approached the man, Darcy had an unwelcome urge to hunch his shoulders in trepidation.

“Mr. Darcy,” he said, returning to his work with methodical diligence. He stepped on the spade under his foot and turned over the red earth.

“Good morning, Dr. Bennet.”

“Lo and behold, it’s the man I’d been expecting since yesterday, but I have to admit I’ve wondered what I might say to you once you arrived.” The shovel sunk into the soil once more. “I suppose you’ve come to fetch your wife.”

“Ah—I—”

“I’ve a mind to not let you have her.Would you like to explain to me why my daughter showed up at my door evening before last, after dark, on foot, with a tear-stained face and an expensive-looking carpet bag full of clothes?”

“I thought perhaps she would have told—”

“She wouldn’t tell me a thing. Mrs. Bennet is fit to be tied, insisting that I take her back to you ‘where she belongs,’ but…” The older man leaned his spade against the fence and turned to narrow his eyes at his son-in-law. “Want to tell me what happened, son?”

No, I don’t. “We had an argument, sir, and I’m afraid I said some things that upset Elizabeth.”

“I’ll say.” Bennet leaned over, picked up a tomato plant and put it in the ground. “You know, my Lizzy is not given to histrionics, so I’m disinclined to think that this was some little marital spat about curtains, burnt dinner, or some other such nonsense.”

“No, sir.”

Bennet moved the soil around the plant with his spade. “If she doesn’t want to go, I will not let you take her with you.”

“I would never force her to come home against her will, but I would like to… Well, I’m not sure she wants to speak to me in person right now, but it is imperative that I explain some things.” Darcy drew an envelope out of his shirt pocket. “Will you be so kind as to give her my letter?”

Bennet nodded toward the house. “You can give it to her yourself, if you like.”

Elizabeth was leaning on the column that held up the porch roof, watching him with her doe-like eyes. Without another word to her father, he approached her slowly, as if approaching an edgy colt.

“Um, good morning.” He tried unsuccessfully to smile and was sure it only came out as a frightful looking grimace.

“Hello.”

“Would you do me the honor of reading this letter? I seem unable to express myself adequately in person.”

She looked at the letter in his hand, and then at him. Tentatively, she reached out and took it.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to return home with me. This looks—”

She shook her head solemnly. “I don’t care how it looks. Please don’t—”

“I understand. Good day then, Elizabeth.” He tipped his hat formally and retreated to his truck.He had made a start. Now he had to await her willingness to respond to it.