Chapter 65

65

D arcy paced around the library. Elizabeth had looked so distraught when they had left. It was better that she had not had to exert herself too much to go upstairs — and she might not have come down afterwards.

"Sit down, Darcy," Bingley was quite at ease. "Jane will call us in as soon as she has been able to comfort her sister."

"But why did she become so distressed?" Darcy rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. Had she realised she might be forced back to Longbourn? Or that she might be thought of as ruined? Or perhaps, thought he might no longer wish to court her?

Somehow, he must find the privacy to reassure her, say he wanted nothing more than to love and protect her all her days. Would that assist her to be happier; or might she feel it was another trap?

"Cousin," Richard sounded hesitant. "We have a lot of opportunities to discuss. But one of the most obvious is that you take her to Gretna." He shrugged. "It would make a good story that you saved her from an impossible situation." His eyes narrowed. "You do want to marry her, don't you?"

Darcy shrugged. "I do. But I do not want her to feel that she has little choice, or to believe she might be walking into another trap as bad as that of her father."

He dropped into a chair. "She idolised him. It must have been a shattering blow."

"True. I am not sure it is a good idea — at least not until she is well-recovered from the last weeks." Bingley was looking abstractedly at the floor. Then he looked up.

"While her father is still technically in charge of her, she is my sister and therefore I am responsible for her while she is with us. Jane and I have considered taking her to accompany us on a visit to my relatives in the north. It will excite little attention, given that I would naturally want to introduce my wife as we are newly-wed."

I believe that is the best idea yet." Richard looked approving.

Darcy nodded glumly. Would he not see her while she was there? He didn't want Gretna, but if it was the only way to have her by his side, then he would do so in a heartbeat.

"What is amiss with that plan, Darcy?" Richard's gaze was penetrating.

Darcy shrugged. "Only that I will not see her. I have a lot of hurt to overcome before she might accept me."

Bingley smiled. "There is no reason for you not to have business in the north, is there? There are some inns in the town where the accommodations are reasonably acceptable — I am afraid my relations will not have room for another extra guest. Spring is coming, and even on cold days, there are tea-houses, museums and the like. And on good days, my new sister will undoubtedly wish to walk in the countryside or in the parks!"

Darcy's spirits rose. He could do that. No other business was as important as winning Elizabeth's heart.

Scarborough could hardly be called an attractive place to be courting a gentlewoman. Darcy huffed a quiet laugh. Unless that gentlewoman was Miss Elizabeth Bennet. That made the location immaterial. But there was beauty enough in the surrounding hills, and she was now recovered enough to walk the lower slopes with him.

He crossed the street and rapped on the door with his cane. Bingley's aunt lived more simply than Darcy was used to, and Bingley answered the door himself. "You are very prompt, my friend!" But his chuckle was kind, not mocking, as Richard might be.

Darcy entered when invited, but waited in the hall as Elizabeth hurried down the stairs towards him, the shine back in her eyes, and a thick warm coat showing she was ready for a lengthy walk out.

Her generosity of spirit warmed him through; he had wondered if she could ever forgive him for his harsh words that terrible day.

"Well, William, I am interested to know where we are going." Her bright eyes cheered him, and he bowed over her hand.

He smiled down at her. "There is an interesting path through the woods along the lower slopes of Stepney Hill. It is only about two miles from here. If you are ready?"

"I certainly am." Elizabeth laughed and turned to her sister. "Thank you, Jane. I hope you have a lovely day, too."

Mrs. Bingley stood in the doorway and waved as Darcy carefully assisted Elizabeth up into the coach, along with the active maid he had appointed to chaperone Elizabeth and who was able to keep up with them as they walked. The extra footmen who followed them for Elizabeth's protection sat up on the box with the grooms, of course.

He nodded back at Bingley and swung up to sit opposite her, and rapped on the roof of the coach. Twenty minutes or so, then they would be able to talk in relative privacy.

He was pleased with his idea this morning. Her hand rested lightly on his arm, and the shelter of the trees mitigated the chilly breeze. The maid and footmen were some distance behind them, and there were no other walkers to be seen as the path wound through the dappled shade.

Elizabeth sighed. "Thank you for taking me out each day; it is lovely to feel so much better."

"I never wake but to regret that I caused you to become so ill, Elizabeth. I am honoured to assist with your recovery, and that you have been so generous as to forgive me my appalling behaviour towards you."

"Please, William, I have mentioned it before, I believe." She gave him a look, and he chuckled.

"Yes, I know. Think only of the past as it gives me pleasure." He shook his head. "That is not so easily done. And I am sure it is not so easy for you, either."

Her hand tightened on his arm, and she slowed a little.

"No," she said, thoughtfully. "But then I do need to think about it often, as there are lessons I must learn. I allowed Papa to deceive me, and if I do not learn how I erred in allowing it and trusting him so freely, I might make that same mistake in the future."

"You were very young when it all began, and he was in a position of trust and authority." Darcy took a deep breath. "There was no possibility of you being able see enough to doubt him."

He lifted his hand and tucked in the curl that had escaped her pins again. "After all, he told me that he began to arrange your lessons and everything else when you were three years old." He hesitated. "How old were you when your uncle published your first piece of music?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I don't really remember. Four and ten, perhaps."

Darcy didn't allow his displeasure of her father's actions to show. He smiled. "Do you regret that there is no instrument where you are staying?"

She shook her head. "Not really." She made a face and looked away, along the path. "But there is something that has been worrying me."

Her hand was tucked onto his arm, and Darcy reached over with his other hand, and placed it onto hers. "Would you like to sit on the next bench and confide in me?"

Soon enough, they were sitting on a bench which had a view through a break in the trees, looking out over the grass-lined valley.

She sighed, and glanced at him. "The music isn't there any more, William. Always before, there has been music filling my head, keeping me company; and making me write it out before it is lost to the next piece." He noticed her shiver, and bent his head.

"I am sorry, you are cold. Would you like to return to the coach?"

She shook her head. "It is not the cold, William, it is just that I do not know who I am any more, without the music that has always been part of me."

He nodded. "Very well. I do think, Elizabeth, that it is a little too soon to be concerned. I know it feels very strange to you, but a lot of change has happened. And you have had to come to terms with the fact that people you have always trusted to do the best for you have been revealed as not the characters you thought them to be." He steeled himself to say it. "And then I said terrible things to you, just as you were beginning to trust me. I … I am happy you have been so generous as to forgive me, but I know it must weigh heavily upon you." He reached for her hand. "As for the music, it will either return and you will come to forget this time without it." He smiled down at her. "Or it does not come back; or even it may be that you decide you do not wish to continue to write it down and share it — why, whatever it is, you will still be Miss Elizabeth Bennet, an extraordinary lady who does not need music to define her."

He twisted slightly so he could look deeply into her eyes. "You are a wonderful person, Elizabeth. You do not need to be a composer, or any sort of musician, to be a person worthy of love and approbation, my dear."

Her smile lit her face. "You would not mind if I could not be Santorio again?"

"I do not mind, Elizabeth. In fact, I would hope that even if you were, that it would not be the total of who you are. There is so much else within you that has the potential to make you happy — and you know that I would wish to ensure you are happy for the rest of your life." He raised her hand to his lips; even through her gloves, her nearness made his heart pound within him.

She sighed, her soft smile encouraging him. "I am glad. Let us find somewhere we can have tea, William. It would be nice to be warmer, now I have told you of my concern."

"I am pleased you felt able to confide in me, Elizabeth." He grinned at her. "Remember I was courting you even before I knew you were Santorio in the first place!"

"So you were, William. I must remember that."