Page 7 of Expectations (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #7)
CHAPTER SIX
LOVE, VULNERABLE LOVE
E lizabeth tried to make herself call out, stop him, but her mouth would not work.
Every argument she had rehearsed, all of her reasoned opinions, had shattered, collapsing in the face of his impervious insistence upon ‘duty’.
It made no sense, not with her intimate familiarity of the kind of man he was…
or at least once was. Truthfully, his motives were as unfathomable as he was.
Could this be some odd form of repentance? Had Mr Darcy’s dishonourable past given him a compulsive need to prove, now, his own righteousness?
But whether it had or it had not, the fact remained: he had removed any possibility that she might keep Tommy.
If she could, somehow, beg for more time, the outcome was still decided.
Even her beloved uncle would admit that Tommy’s future was more assured with Mr Darcy, if not in better hands than her own.
She could not even curse Bingley—had he left any significant fortune, his sisters would have fought tooth and nail to take the children from her…
and would already have won. They were both, after all, still wealthy.
No, the sole consequence of her years of devotion and care and sacrifice was that she could keep the children only if no one else wanted them.
She had no money, no rights, no power. She sank down onto the settee just as her sister entered.
Lydia leant against the doorframe, giving a deep sigh. “I saw the carriage depart from the nursery window. Your conversation did not last very long after I left. I-I am afraid I lost my temper.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It seems that we all did.” She could not think what to do next, her thoughts fumbling and bumbling around in her head, desperation and despair comingling.
“It was only that the news shocked me, I suppose. I did not love him, not like I love Andrew—but I thought I did, in the way only a young girl can think…or at least that I could have loved him, if only he would return my affections.”
“Love who?” Elizabeth, utterly bewildered and only half-listening, had no idea what Lydia meant.
“George. Mr Wickham. The man to whom I bestowed my first kiss, and a few other favours I was gullible enough to grant.”
“Wh-what?” Her sister’s confession was enough to penetrate Elizabeth’s haze of misery. “But…but you were what, fifteen when he lived here?”
Lydia smiled. “Oh, yes. I am old enough to recognise a lecherous man now, one who would avail himself of any girl stupid enough to take him up on his flirtations. But I have to admit, even so, that he was very, very good at the, um, particulars of certain intimacies.”
Elizabeth gaped.
“I can see I have shocked you.”
“That is one word for it. You…and Mr Wickham?”
“I know, I know, I ought never to have indulged in any lovemaking with him, nor been so careless—it could have gone wildly wrong. But I have long ago forgiven that young, restless girl I used to be, who was desperate to have a man tell her she was as beautiful, and that she would have as many chances for happiness as did Jane. You were born wise, but I had to learn from my own mistakes.”
Elizabeth shut her mouth, scrubbing at her face, hardly able to take in these explanations.
“Not the wise sister, not wise at all. I ought to have done as you suggested and begged Mr Darcy for more time, instead of trying to make him give up the idea utterly. Now he will return Monday with a nurse, and I must somehow explain to Tommy that he is going away forever with a man he has never even met.”
Lydia seated herself beside Elizabeth on the settee. “That is…unfortunate.”
“I do not know what to do, what to say, how to reassure him.” Tears wanted to escape, but she could not allow it. She must think, she must devise a plan, she must somehow fix this. Foolish tears would never help.
“Listen to me, Lizzy.” Lydia turned to face her, taking her hands.
“You have got a bad habit of seeing things in an all-or-nothing sort of manner. Yes, Mr Darcy is one of those men who is very accustomed to having his own way. Nevertheless, he does not seem the sort who would deny you any motherly interest in Tommy. What if, when he arrives Monday, you ask him—in your most polite and sedate and accommodating manner—whether Tommy might spend Christmas with you? Introduce the boy to him—he will see that Tommy is very shy, and might even agree that gaining additional time to come to know him is a better idea. If he will not agree to that, ask him if Tommy might come back for a visit in a month or two. Use Cassandra—the little rapscallion could persuade the devil to relinquish his gin.”
Elizabeth did not dare tell Lydia that Mr Darcy had, at least half-heartedly, offered to take Cassandra as well, lest her sister think that, too, was a good idea.
“I love Tommy so much. What will I do without him, Lyddie?”
Lydia squeezed her hands. “I shall tell you what you will not do. You will not wallow and curse your lot. You never do that. You will look for the best, as you always do. You will see that Tommy’s future has just become a good deal brighter, even if there are difficulties in the present.
I have never been a mother, but you have —you can still love him, write to him, encourage him, and, hopefully, have him back again and again for visits.
” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hands once more.
“And, you will try to teach that wretched Mrs Sergeant to brew a decent pot of tea. What is wrong with her?”
Elizabeth managed a smile, and let go of Lydia’s hands to take the pot and sniff it. There was a strong medicinal smell to it. With a sigh, she set it back down again.
“This is what she prepares for the sergeant when his rheumatism flares—I maintain that she doses him with it to keep him from taking to his bed for too long. I should have known, when I asked her to bring us tea when our visitor arrived, that she would simply serve what she had already made. Mr Darcy probably believes we truly meant to poison him.”
“I am sure you can explain.” Lydia stood.
“I must go now, before Mrs Edwin tries to put those hideous yellow pots Andrew brought in last week in the shop window. She usually is so good, but every now and again she horrifies me. Unless…do you want me to go with you to speak with Tommy and Cassandra?”
Elizabeth wanted to say, ‘Yes, yes, please!’ But she could see that Lydia, clearly, would rather do anything else in the world. Besides, in the end, it did not matter—she would have to face this herself. “No, dear. I know you are busy. Thank you for coming.”
“It will all work out somehow, Lizzy. In time.”
Elizabeth nodded, and Lydia left her alone.