Page 31 of A Letter in the Wind (Mayhem and Scandal Collection #1)

Darcy took the stairs to his townhouse two at a time. His business took longer than anticipated, and he could not wait another minute to wrap Elizabeth into his arms and breathe in her calming scent. He found her sitting in his study and staring into the distance, her face angled slightly away from the door. The afternoon sun shone through a nearby window, bringing out chestnut highlights in her hair. At Netherfield, his fingers had itched a thousand times to touch her silky tresses. Now, it was no longer improper.

He took a step toward her, and her attention snapped to him. She smiled, but there was a flash of something else on her countenance. Did something trouble her?

“My dearest love,” he said, sitting next to her on the settee and embracing her. “I missed you every second I was away. It was complete torture being out there without you.”

He leaned to kiss her, but she turned her face, and his lips landed on her cheek. Perplexed, his arms went slack, and she slipped away.

She gave him a weak smile. “You must be famished. I will call for refreshments, and then you must tell me how it all went.”

Darcy followed her to the settee, already mourning the loss of their private sanctuary and wishing he could embrace her again. She seemed to need some distance, so he determined to allow her the space she required.

“Well, I instructed the solicitor to inquire about Lydia at several inns. Tracking her on the street would be difficult, but perhaps she is…elsewhere.”

Elizabeth furrowed her brows, and Darcy prayed that she would understand his reference so he would not have to explain it to her. The thought of his sister being in a brothel turned his stomach sour. Surely, it would wound Elizabeth just as much.

“Where could you be looking? I doubt they are even together any longer, but if they are—how would they have income for a hotel all this time? They must have taken a house somewhere or have left town.”

“All of this is true.” He reached for Elizabeth’s hand, but she did not return his gesture. Instead, it went limp, but she did not pull away. His heart deflated. He was starving away her love. How selfish could he be to try and seek comfort from her while her heart was breaking? “There are only a few places for women who seek room and board with no skills. Do you think Lydia could become a maid or seamstress? Or perhaps work in a shop?”

Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, and she gasped. “Do you mean it is probable that she—she—” Tears fell from her eyes, and she could not complete the sentence. Her sister was probably a prostitute by now, hopefully inside a brothel and not on the street.

“I am sorry, my love.” The desire to embrace her was overpowering. He gently tugged on her shoulder, and she collapsed against him, sobbing into his cravat. “This is my fault. I should have told the world about Wickham.”

She shook her head. “No, it is my fault. I led her astray with blind loyalty and partiality. I did not know what he was, but I ought not to have trusted him so quickly. I was indiscreet.” She sat bolt upright. “I deserve this punishment—but not Lydia! And the worst thing of all is that I tricked you into marrying me.” She stood. “We have made a terrible mistake, William. We never should have married. There must be some way to amend this—before I ruin your name forever.”

Darcy surged to his feet and reached for her hands. She snatched them away and put them behind her back. “What are you saying?”

His chest rapidly rose and fell as if he had run a marathon in the Ancient Greek Olympics. A bitter taste filled his mouth, and his stomach clenched. He had thought, if anything, she would be angry at him. He had indirectly wounded another sister. Instead, she blamed herself and he did not know how to get through to her.

“Elizabeth, what I told you in Mr Lincoln’s office remains true. I love you without any conditions.”

“That is what you think now, but what will it be in one year or five? We have both seen love sour. Your family is well-connected. There are ways to undo what we have done. Whatever scandal follows will be short-lived compared to enduring marriage to me forever. Do you not see? This calamity with Lydia is but the first disgrace. I am destined to cause you misery.”

A red, hot iron seared Darcy’s heart. It was everything he ever feared. His love was not enough. She flung it in his face. Feeling as though he would explode, he paced around the room with his hands behind his back as he fidgeted his thumb against his forefinger.

“This is impossible and madness. Countless couples despise one another and live together anyway. They put on a facade for all the world.”

“Could you do that? I know that I cannot. I can live a lie no longer.”

“And so, your answer is to annul our marriage? We lie—the greatest lie of our life—and say there was some impediment one or both of us did not reveal?”

“I will take the blame…we can think of the particulars later.”

Dacy had thought he had sacrificed all his pride weeks ago. Now, he watched as his castle of pretensions crumbled around him. He stepped toward her, struggling to form a coherent thought. “Do you not love me?”

Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath and then stepped backwards. “Love is not the problem. I was wrong for thinking it would solve all my difficulties.”

Darcy’s head whirled. In one morning, the bliss and happiness he had evaporated.

“I will go pack some things,” she said quietly.

The entire world froze. In this very room, his life shattered years ago. Now, history repeated itself. He had been so worried about becoming his mother that he had become his father with a wife who dramatically gave into emotions and desired to manipulate him. After years of practice, he now stood transfixed in a prison of his own making, unable to plead, cry, or beg for her to change her mind. He vaguely heard her leave the room. A few minutes later, she returned.

“Goodbye, William,” Elizabeth said from the doorway.

Suddenly, Darcy jerked to the present. “Where are you going?”

“To my uncle’s house—where I belong.”

He said nothing. He did not even look at her. He was unsure how long she stood in the doorway, possibly hoping that he would come to her. Did she want him to beseech her? Would crawling on his hands and knees be enough? Memories of his father pleading with his mother to stay with him, of her throwing his love in his face, danced through Darcy’s mind. In one moment, his life had become his living nightmare.

The sound of the front door jolted him. He went to the window, his throat tight, and saw her climb into a hackney. Then, he lowered the curtain as she rolled away with his heart.

Alone.

He was alone. Again.

In this same room. The source of his greatest heartaches had occurred in this chamber. What was it about this room? Darcy shook his head. That was ridiculous. The room was not to blame.

Despite this, Darcy fled the study as fast as he could. How had his father just sat there and gone about his business while his wife was carted away, and he would most probably never see her again?

Darcy entered the drawing room, but memories of Elizabeth assaulted him there. In the dining room, he recalled holding her hand. The bedrooms were entirely out of the question. Although he did not spend much time in the other rooms, he recalled the tour he gave her, where they had bared their souls to one another. There was not a single place in the whole house that did not remind him of Elizabeth and make him long for her all the more.

He called for his hat and coat. As he walked through the streets of London, he kept his head down to avoid being stopped by acquaintances. Perhaps he did not show his love to Elizabeth enough. She came from a very emotional household. But would doubling his efforts in expressing his feelings remove her concerns? How could he prove that she worried for nought without the passage of time?

Darcy turned into a bookstore. He had made plans with Elizabeth to visit a few before they left for Pemberley. He had wondered what sorts of books would appeal to her the most. Finding no reprieve in there, he turned into Hyde Park. Again, he thought of Elizabeth. The memory of showing her the beautiful glade at Rosings was inscribed in his heart. She had looked so lovely, with her arms outstretched and her face directed at the sun, that it stole his breath. They spoke of love; all the while, his heart burned with longing and fear. Just a few minutes later, they argued, and later that evening, he realised how insufficient he was to earn her love. He would not erase those memories for anything. If he could never have Elizabeth in his life or in his arms again, at least he had the bitter-sweet torture of these recollections.

Finding no respite from his torment, he returned to the house and locked himself away in his study. No work would be done, but at least he would be left with his recriminations and not with the taunting of happier times. He ordered a tray for dinner and noticed that no one lingered in the hall. The servants must either fear his mood or be gossiping about his misfortune.

Darcy could only stomach a few bites of his meal. Then, he tried reading several books to distract from his heartache. Of course, nothing worked. He attempted to think of how to approach Elizabeth and heal the breach between them. The pain was too raw and fresh. He could not think coherently. Every time he attempted it, fears and hurts sprang up.

She had left . After he had explained how his mother was taken away. How difficult it was for him to love and trust. She did not care at all and threw it all back at him.

A quiet internal voice told him that was not true. He had not always been able to sacrifice his feelings and hurts to be considerate of hers. Certainly, Elizabeth was allowed the same liberty.

At last, his mind grew weary and exhausted. He retrieved a Bible from the case—his usual one was upstairs in his bedroom, where he could not go this evening. He did not know exactly what King David was going through while writing the verses in Psalms 32 through 34, but they seemed recorded just for Darcy’s sake.

Now and then, he read a few verses aloud, struck by how they voiced his desperation.

“I acknowledge my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin. Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance.”

He could not quite join David in rejoicing at the end of the first chapter. The following passage contained even more praise. Finally a portion about the Lord bringing the counsel of the wicked to nought seemed apt.

Darcy could recite in agreement at the close: “Our soul waiteth for the Lord: he is our help and shield. For our heart shall rejoice in him, because we have trusted in his holy name. Let thy mercy, O Lord, be upon us, according as we hope in thee.”

Psalm 34 brought tears to his eyes. “I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them. O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. O fear the Lord, ye his saints: for there is no want to them that fear him.”