Page 34 of An Offer of Marriage (Engaged to Mr Darcy #7)

TO SEE AND BE SEEN

T alking things through with my wife shall be easier said than done , Darcy thought the next morning as he sat over his breakfast. Elizabeth was already gone, to who knew where.

She kept herself out of his way, and he felt awkward conscripting a servant into requesting a formal interview with her.

And equally awkward enquiring of the servants as to where I might find her.

A man ought to know where his wife might be.

He had spent a great deal of time the previous night, a sleepless night, thinking about the beginnings of their acquaintance.

Somewhere along the way she had decided to dislike him, and before he could truly allow her his heart again, he needed to know why.

He could give her the justice now of admitting she was not generally cruel.

She did not, like Miss Bingley, shred people for the sport of it, and he needed to know why she had done so to him.

At last he hit upon the idea of walking with her in Hyde Park.

It would not be an ideal place for the conversation required between them, but it would be an opportunity for him to show her that he had thawed, that he was ready to forgive her.

Perhaps afterwards, in private, they could speak of their earlier acquaintance, determine when and how everything veered so wrongly.

Elizabeth was dressed and ready at the hour he had indicated and met him in the vestibule.

She wore a pink walking gown that was very becoming, even as he observed that she was very pale.

As they exited the house, he extended his arm and she took it.

“Are you feeling well?” he asked. “It is not necessary that we should do this if you are not equal to it.”

“I am well,” she said. “A slight stomach-ache, nothing more. I am sure it will pass.”

He nodded and continued towards the park, all the while thinking of what to say to her to indicate his desire for rapprochement.

Despite the finest education that could be had by any man, he found it impossible to do.

A beginning is all that needs made, to tell her that I am prepared to forgive her but must know the reasons behind what has come before.

As they approached the gate which led into Hyde Park, she spoke. “Th-the weather is very fine today.”

“It is. Very fine,” he agreed with too much enthusiasm.

“The sun is very warm.”

“And bright as well,” he concurred. “And yet the breeze is cooling.”

“It is,” she said with more eagerness than the banal statement should have commanded. “Very cooling indeed. And fragrant. One can almost smell the verdure.”

“The air in the park is lovely, particularly after the less agreeable scents of town.”

“Indeed it is. I believe I smell a hint of roses.”

“Very likely so,” he said. “I smell them too. ”

They walked a few paces more before he said, “This must be the stupidest conversation we have ever had.”

Elizabeth turned her head quickly to look up at him round the edge of her bonnet. He gave her a wry smile and she laughed, the sound wonderful to him. “It is rather banal, is it not? What ought we to discuss?”

With a quick inhale to summon his courage, he said, “I daresay we have a great deal we need to discuss.”

She looked down and did not immediately reply, the only sound between them being their footsteps on the path and the occasional birdsong. “I suppose we should have a…a conversation about…”

“What to do about our marriage,” he supplied.

To that she made no response, and he was nearly about to begin again when Saye was suddenly upon them.

“What do you do here?” Darcy asked him.

“In the park? Walking. Same as you.” Saye bowed to Darcy’s wife with a courtly, “Elizabeth, you are looking very well today. I must conclude that my libations did you no harm.”

She flushed and gave Darcy an uncertain look. “And I must conclude that there is a reason ladies do not indulge in strong drink. Speaking for myself, I fear I have not the constitution for it.”

“You must have an egg with your breakfast,” Saye advised. “And bacon. It helps set things to rights.”

“I do not think there is anything that would have appealed to me less this morning than an egg,” she said with a smile. “The Matlock berries served me well enough.”

“Matlock berries? What might those be?” Saye asked.

“Those sweet little berries grown in the courtyard,” she explained. “I simply adore them. ”

Saye only looked confused but rapidly recovered to ask after his own interests. “Have you seen my lady?” He gave Darcy a look. “You know the one.”

“In truth, I cannot say that I do. I have not kept abreast of your latest romantic inclinations.”

Saye rolled his eyes and looked towards Elizabeth. “ You must know. I understand she has called on you, and you on her…and she came to your breakfast. You are very nearly intimates.”

“Miss Goddard?” Elizabeth smiled in reply to Saye’s nod. “Such a charming lady.”

“That she is. I mean to marry her,” Saye replied with a little twirl of his walking stick.

“You barely know her,” Darcy said incredulously.

“I am loath to inform you, but Miss Goddard is very nearly promised to a Mr Balton-Sycke,” said Elizabeth.

“Saye, no!” Darcy said immediately, seeing Saye’s eyes light up with anticipated humour. “You will not utter the name you usually term that gentleman before my wife.”

“Elizabeth is a married woman now! She will not be missish at such remarks!”

“Absolutely not,” Darcy said flatly.

Saye scowled, then told Elizabeth, “I shall tell you another time and you will laugh. In any case, ‘very nearly promised’ is neither married nor engaged. So I mean to break it up.”

“How will you do that?” Elizabeth asked.

“You would do better not to ask,” Darcy told her. To Saye he said, “We do wish you well on your scheme of heartbreak, but I fear we have stood in one place too long. I daresay Elizabeth might like to see a bit more of the park before we turn back.”

“Are you certain? Your wife looks a little tired. ”

“Oh! No…I am not tired, just a slight headache,” Elizabeth said immediately.

“A headache and a stomach-ache?” Darcy asked with a frown. “You ought to have told me, I would not have made you come out.”

“Bacchus’s revenge,” Saye said with an approving nod. “Did you walk with Anne this morning? You have been very good to her, walking in the mornings as you do. I am sure I could never manage such a thing after a night of drink.”

His words made Darcy stiffen. “You walk with Anne?”

“I have seen her walking in the mornings on occasion,” Elizabeth said quickly. “She has been very kind, in fact. I daresay she wishes, perhaps, to befriend me?”

Darcy scowled. Anne did not wish to befriend anyone, Elizabeth particularly. What was she about now?

“You see Darcy’s shock—it is because Anne does not have friends,” Saye informed her. “Sickly and cross are not qualities that recommend a person to others.”

“She has been very amiable towards me,” Elizabeth said, looking between the men. “B-but I can stop if it displeases?—”

“Good lord, Darcy, that scowl on your face is frightening your wife. I daresay ’tis making me uncomfortable too!” Saye laughed. “I do hope you are growing accustomed to his barks, Elizabeth, you must see by now that he rarely bites.”

Elizabeth only laughed but in a discomfited way, then lowered her eyes to the ground. Darcy noted her evident embarrassment and excused them. “Elizabeth and I are for home.”

Darcy grew more alarmed, and hence angrier, with every step taken towards his home.

Anne! What was she about? Whatever it was, he knew it could not be for good.

Friends indeed! Anne had never had a friend because she did not think anyone worthy of the title.

He doubted her philosophies had changed for Elizabeth, no matter how charming his wife was.

There was a scheme afoot, and he meant to find out what it was.

Just as they reached the gate, he realised that, in such a state as he was, he had neglected to consider that his wife, his petite wife, might have struggled to keep apace.

Looking at his side, he saw Elizabeth’s countenance was lightly flushed and she was slightly out of breath; her eyes were bright with the exercise. In short, she was absolutely lovely.

“Forgive me,” he said, and slowed his pace. “I forgot myself for a moment.”

“No matter.” She put her hand on her chest to catch her breath, and he observed a slight tremor in her hand.

Trying to modulate his tone, he enquired, “When did you approach Anne?”

“Um…I did not approach her. She approached me in the park one morning?—”

“Anne? In the park? Was she riding?”

“She was walking with Mrs Jenkinson, and asked me to join her,” said Elizabeth. “Had I any notion it would be displeasing to you?—”

“Do you not recollect how we hastened you from Kent, concerned for your safety? Anne is not to be trusted.”

“I apologise. I shall not?—”

“I beg you, do not apologise again. Just keep away from Anne; do you understand me?” His tone was stern, but he meant that it should be. Elizabeth should not underestimate Anne.

Elizabeth’s gaze had become fixed on the ground, but she agreed that she did understand him. He sighed; he had, regrettably, upset her when he had wanted to show her that he had begun to forgive her…but they would speak of that later. For now, he wished to understand what schemes Anne was planning.

He escorted his wife into the vestibule. Moments later, he was again out, going towards the Matlock town house.

Elizabeth watched Darcy leave with no little dismay, then turned and walked slowly through the vestibule.

Last night had been so promising! He had seemed almost his usual self, or at least the usual self she had met in Hertfordshire: reticent, slightly proud-looking, but with the occasional bit of sly humour.

She had found herself with a modicum of tentative hope that maybe things would be made right between them.

And then came today , she thought as she began to climb the stairs towards her bedchamber. She had angered him by befriending his cousin. She had wished to please him!

The notion that Anne was dangerous was absurd.

Yes, Anne had behaved with intemperance in Kent and had given him quite a beating—but he had admitted himself that he had not made any attempt to prevent her.

There was no doubt she had been indulged her entire life, and was unused to being refused.

If she had believed since a child that she was destined for Darcy, it would have been a shock to learn it was impossible—and she had responded with a childish, uncontrolled tantrum.

Elizabeth thought it most likely that Anne was quite mortified by the whole incident and was seeking to redeem herself not only to Elizabeth but to Darcy as well.

Then again, none of this might signify. He had said in the park that he wished to speak to her regarding ‘what to do about their marriage’.

What could he have meant by that? What was there to do ?

Would he abandon her? Surely not. Send her off somewhere?

Take a mistress? A panic-laced sob rose up in her throat even contemplating the possibilities.

One thing was certain: she needed to avoid that conversation for as long as she could. Time was her friend; time would remind him of why he had once loved her, perhaps even persuade him that he could love her again.

The matter was stoking the fiery pain of her headache; the sun through the window felt like a knife through her skull.

She considered asking Mrs Hobbs what remedies might be available in the house, even though she was loath to bring attention to her malady.

The last thing she wished for was to have the whole household thinking her sickly.

The little phial she had received from Anne sat on her dressing table, tempting her with the surety of release from head pain.

Yes, it might worsen the ache in her stomach but then, many things did.

She had spoken of it with Anne who confirmed it did, at times, cause her a stomach-ache too but that some bread and ginger root tea would take care of those symptoms. Balancing one against the other, she concluded she did not care in the least about a stomach-ache.

Better to have a release from the agony of her mind and, with good fortune, a deep dreamless sleep.

Crossing the room, she picked up the phial and took a deep draught of it.