Page 27 of Expectations (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #7)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
POISED UPON THE SCALES OF JUSTICE
E lizabeth reached the house on Gracechurch Street in a state of deep distress.
She tried to disguise it, however; the Gardiner children were just enough older to be wildly interesting to Cassandra and Tommy, and in the pleasures of reunion, she thought she had done well enough during the early stages of the visit.
But when the two women were alone at last on the settee in her aunt’s private sitting room overlooking the back gardens, she realised she had fooled no one.
“You and I engaged in a high piece of meddling some seven years ago,” Mrs Gardiner said directly. “Has it come back to haunt you in this new marriage of yours?”
“Meddling? You call it meddling to call a man to account for his sins?”
Her aunt sighed. “Now I do, yes—since you chose to marry the sinful man.”
Almost, Elizabeth opened her mouth to defend her decision, to say it had been made entirely because it was in the children’s best interests.
It was only a partial truth, however; strict honesty compelled her to admit—to herself, at least—that a part of her had been flattered by the offer itself, and that there was an attraction to the man who made it.
Besides, for good or for ill, she had already done the thing.
It would not do to make it sound as though her hand had been forced.
Instead, she told her aunt of Bingley’s will, of Mr Darcy’s decision to abide by the terms of it and make a ward of Tommy, and of the twins’ adventures in running away.
She told of Mr Darcy’s dedication to the search, his rescue of them in the nick of time, and of Cassandra’s affection for him.
She even heard herself speaking of the journey from Hertfordshire and his actions on the road to London; his defence of her family to his uncle, the earl; and finally, her confusion after his response to her request that he meet the Gardiners.
When she had finished, she felt nearer to tears than she had been earlier this morning.
“My dear, it sounds as though the twins are not the only ones engaging in adventures.”
Elizabeth tried to laugh, but it came out as a half-choked sob. “What do I do?”
“Well, what does Mr Darcy say about it all? What was his explanation for the course of events which led to his ignominious treatment of Miss Lucas?”
There was a long silence.
“You did ask, did you not? Before you married him?”
“No!” Elizabeth cried, horrified. “Aunt, what was I supposed to say? ‘By the way, several years ago you had intimate relations with my dearest friend, fathered a child, and then abandoned her. What excuse have you?’”
“Elizabeth, presumably you are having those same intimate relations with this same man! Of course you should have spoken about this first! How will you ever have any peace?”
Elizabeth covered her face with her hands.
She found she could not admit, not even to her aunt, that he had never even kissed her, that she was not on ‘intimate terms’ with her husband, that she was still as green as a child—and except for a few spectacularly explicit instructions from her youngest sister, had no idea how to broach that subject with him either.
“I hope—I mean, I have to believe that it was all in his past. I did ask him if he would be faithful to me, and warned him that I would not be an easy wife if he decided he could not. He swore he would be, and I-I believed him. A person might change, might he not?”
Aunt Gardiner sighed, and put her arm about her niece’s shoulders.
“Of course people change, and oftener than one might think. But dear girl, it sounds to me as though you are still collecting evidence of both his innocence and his guilt, and trying to decide which side of justice he should land upon. If you do not believe he shuns us out of a rejection of our sphere in life, the likely answer lies in whatever your uncle wrote to Mr Darcy in that letter he sent several years ago, a letter that brought immediate results for your friend and cost him a great deal of money, as well as some humiliation. Did you believe your uncle would be gentle and kindly in that missive, Lizzy?”
“What did he say?”
Aunt Gardiner sighed once more. “I have no idea. I know that he was beyond astonished when we received your letter notifying us of your upcoming marriage. I have a feeling that he will be surprised you were allowed to visit us today. I know that I was.”
Elizabeth stared at her aunt in dismay.
“You have married him now—he is your husband,” she continued inexorably. “You owe him your loyalty; I fear that by visiting us you are betraying him already.”
“I will not give up my family! I would never have agreed to that!”
“You have agreed to far more, my dear, and marriage is much more than intimate relations. You have vowed to become ‘one flesh’. You have charged your husband with a requirement to be faithful, but you are not to be held to the same standard?”
“It is a different thing entirely.”
“Had he allowed his uncle, the earl, to degrade you—to your face or behind your back—how would you have felt?”
Elizabeth stood, pacing to the window, trying to breathe. “He has a child! A little girl whom he has never before seen or cared about in the slightest. Is my sin of keeping you in my life worse than that ?”
After a long moment, her aunt joined her at the window, placing her hands upon Elizabeth’s shoulders.
“It all comes down to the question of guilt, does it not? It is so unfair, so often, that a woman must pay an enormous price for intimacies, which a man almost never does. However, you seem to have laid all of the blame for the situation upon your husband. Miss Lucas was an active participant in it, and was more than old enough to have avoided those consequences—unless you now believe it was an assault.”
“No,” Elizabeth whispered. “She swore it was not.”
“It is my understanding that she has since married, had another child, and is living happily with her husband and two children.”
“Charlotte does not write to me any longer, but that is what I hear from her mother.”
“It sounds to me as though she prefers to forget her past, and likely everyone who knows about it. It is you who cannot forget.”
Elizabeth could not deny the truth of Charlotte’s wish to reject their connexion entirely; she had written to her friend a few times without any reply before she had realised it. She could only nod.
“I recommend that if you cannot forget, you try to understand. I believe that the only way you can begin to do that is to have a conversation about it with him. Discover how it was for him, how it still is. Remember, Lizzy, a wife who loves her husband can have a great deal of influence over a husband who loves his wife.”
“He does not love me. He wanted a mother for the children.” It was the closest she could come to admitting the absence of familiarity between them. She tried to sound matter of fact about it.
Her aunt raised a brow. “He married a woman of no fortune, whose uncle, at one time, deeply embarrassed him. He told you he has no objections to your continued relationship to that uncle, despite his obvious chagrin. To me, it seems he has extended quite a little forbearance if he is only tolerating you for your maternal abilities. A man of his fortune could have nearly any woman in the world, dear. He wanted you.”
“It all makes no sense to me, Auntie. I am so confused.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Your sister hid from the truth of her husband rather than trying to cope with what was real.”
“I did not like to examine much about those truths either. I certainly did not understand them at the time they were happening. Bingley’s truths were ugly.”
“Yes. But pretending they were not did little to help her weather her difficulties, and gave her reasons to hide from those who might have sustained her. I knew the character of the late Mr Darcy, his father, perfectly well. Your husband was raised to be an honourable gentleman. It seems to me better that you attempt to know Mr Darcy as he is now, rather than hide behind your fear of any answers he might give of who, or how, he was then.”