Chapter Twenty-Seven

A week. It had been a week since that wretched ball, and still no word from Miss Elizabeth. Could she honestly think so ill of him? More importantly, was she well? Her countenance had been nearly grey when she left him.

He was not waiting alone. His uncle and cousins were careful to keep him company in their turn, although he fervently wished that they would not. Bingley was here today. Georgiana, however, was not speaking to him. Truly, he could not feel more miserable. It would be a relief to simply let go and drink himself into a welcoming oblivion.

He could not do even that, of course, for Elizabeth might need him. What if she sent him word and he was insensible?

April was here, Easter only a week away. Darcy was typically in Kent assisting his aunt Lady Catherine at Easter, but he had begged off, barely able to complete the letter. The world had returned to life, the air brisk but not icy, the sky cloudless and endlessly blue. But despite the cheerful weather, Darcy sat at his desk, staring at all the other letters he could not bring himself to answer, his heart still filled with an aching sadness .

Bingley attempted to lighten the mood. "Come now, Darcy, it has only been a week."

"Only a week?" Darcy inquired, incredulous. "Were you not here being crowned king a few days after Miss Bennet sent you off?"

Bingley grimaced.

"I understand it seems interminable to you, Darcy," Fitz said from his place near the fire. "Still, you must not lose hope. Miss Elizabeth is a reasonable woman. She will allow you to make amends."

"It is the way of women to make you suffer a bit when you have erred," Milton added, using a poker to coax the fire back into life.

"That is not Miss Elizabeth's way," Darcy replied. "She has good reason not to see me. Trust is essential to her, and I broke it."

"Through negligence, not malice," Fitz reminded him. "She will see that, in time."

"But honestly, Darcy, how could you forget such a thing?" Bingley asked. "Why did you not simply tell her?"

"First, because it was Lord Carlisle's scheme and I thought it was his place to tell her or not," Darcy said bluntly. "Which was foolish. But truly, I simply forgot all about it when I realised I was in love." He folded his arms together, placed them on the desk, and dropped his head atop them.

This was met by silence. Darcy had never said the obvious aloud before, and he supposed he had shocked them with his honesty.

"And when was that?" Fitz asked at last.

"I do not know. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun." Darcy groaned. "This is a disaster."

Milton threw his head back and stared up at the ceiling. "You have been a devoted admirer, Darcy. I agree with my brother for once. Miss Elizabeth will eventually forgive you. "

"Bingley," Darcy said, knowing he ought not ask but unable to stop himself, "have you seen Miss Bennet at all this week? Has she said anything about her sister?"

Bingley's expression grew serious. "I have not been able to visit for long, Darcy. Miss Bennet has been tending Miss Elizabeth. Apparently, she is not sleeping well, and her sister is caring for her."

Darcy swallowed his guilt whole, his own pain forgotten as he worried about hers. "I wish there was something I could do to help, but I am the cause of her distress."

"More happened that night than your blunder," Fitz reminded him. "Henrietta sent a note, but it was answered by Miss Bennet."

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, but Darcy could not regret it. They were a morose group here, and any distraction was welcome. He sat up. "Come," he called.

Mr. Yardley appeared. "Mr. Darcy, Lord Carlisle is here to see you."

Darcy shot to his feet. Had Lord Carlisle come to tell him that Miss Elizabeth would not see him? He was not certain he could bear it. He clutched the edge of the desk to steady himself.

The earl appeared in the doorway, impeccably dressed, but his expression haggard.

"Lord Carlisle," Darcy said, hating that his voice wavered. "What brings you here to Darcy House?"

Lord Carlisle glanced around the room. "Darcy, I would speak to you alone."

Darcy nodded. Bingley, Fitz, and Milton mumbled their farewells and made their exits.

The earl's eyes were grave. "I must speak with you regarding Miss Elizabeth and the events that transpired at Lady Morgan's ball."

Darcy nodded and gestured for Lord Carlisle to take a seat. "Certainly. "

Lord Carlisle fixed Darcy with an even gaze. "Why did you not tell Miss Elizabeth about the circumstances surrounding your initial friendship? I know that it was done under my direction, but when you asked to call, I presumed that you would have discussed it then."

Darcy's words were heavy with regret. "I believed it was your place to tell her, Lord Carlisle, but you are right to say I should not have called without ascertaining that she knew. I must confess that I have never been in love before, and in the midst of feelings so new and overwhelming, it no longer seemed relevant—I simply forgot about it. My heart and mind have been so consumed with her that all else seemed . . ."

"Nothing more than noise in the background?"

"Precisely."

Lord Carlisle sighed. "I remember those days very well, Mr. Darcy. Love has a way of making everything else seem inconsequential. It also tends to amplify every error."

Darcy could only nod tiredly.

"So between us, we left her entirely unprepared for my stupid joke, made in public." Lord Carlisle shook his head. "But our focus now must be on the present and the future." He leaned forward. "You must return to the house with me. Miss Elizabeth has not yet said she is ready to see you, but she cannot continue on as she has been without becoming truly ill. It is my belief that even should she not want you at present, she needs you."

Darcy's heart leapt at the prospect of seeing Elizabeth again, even if she was not ready to reconcile. At least he could reassure her of his love and that if she wished it, he would be waiting when she was ready. She could speak to him if she wished, lambaste him if she had nothing else to say. And if she rejected him—it would destroy him, but at least he would know. He rose to his feet again, determination giving him life.

"Let me fetch my coat. "

"Good man," Lord Carlisle said, relieved. "I was concerned you would be more difficult to persuade."

His stomach roiled as he spoke, but he meant every word. "Even if Miss Elizabeth does not want me anymore, I will always wish to be of aid to her in any way possible."

Lord Carlisle's look was an approving one, but Darcy could not care less. There was only one person whose approval he craved now, and he was on his way to see her.

Elizabeth sat in the quiet family parlour at the back of the house, her work in her lap and her eyes fixed on the intricate pattern of the rug beneath her feet. The weight of the past week pressed heavily upon her shoulders. She ought to feel free now that Lady Henrietta had announced to the ton that she was innocent of any wrongdoing and had in fact thanked her for saving her during the fire. But instead, every slight, every injustice, every emotion that she had carefully pushed down inside her since her time at school now demanded to be taken out and examined. It made her feel ill, it kept her from sleeping well, and yet she seemed to be caught in a cycle she could not escape.

The only thing that forced its way through the fog of her intense fatigue was a question. What was she to do about Mr. Darcy?

She ought to speak to him, had intended to speak to him, but somehow, his transgression had wrapped itself up in everything else she was feeling, making it impossible for her to take it out and look at it on its own.

She was so tired.

Jane entered the room, moving silently as she had all week, and sat next to her. She took Elizabeth's hand and said, "Lizzy, you have a visitor. "

"I cannot see anyone like this, Jane," she protested weakly.

"I must insist," her sister replied.

Elizabeth pulled back to really look at Jane, whose expression was resolute. "You insist?"

"Yes." Jane pulled both of Elizabeth's hands to her own chest and said, "I am worried for you. Please, do this for me if not yourself."

"It is not a doctor, is it? I refuse to take laudanum."

"No, it is not a doctor. It is better. I think you need to feel safe before you can sleep."

Elizabeth ought to feel safe, she knew that, yet she did not. "And this visitor will make me feel safe again?"

"Yes," Jane said firmly. "I believe so."

Elizabeth shrugged carelessly. "Very well." She turned her face towards the window but felt the air change when he came in the room. She knew who it was before he spoke.

"Mr. Darcy," she said without turning, her voice barely rising above a whisper. "Thank you for coming." When she did face him and saw his handsome countenance, it was tired, drawn, anxious. She hated that for him.

Despite his looks, he strode into the room, as powerful as he had ever been. "Lord Carlisle invited me. I must say, I am grateful that you are not vexed with me for accepting."

She had not expected that. "He invited you?"

"Came to collect me, more like. Are you unhappy that I am here?"

She considered the question and shook her head. "I should have sent for you sooner."

"I am afraid to inquire what you might have said if you had. "

Elizabeth glanced up at him. "To be honest, I do not know. But leaving you without any word at all was not fair. I promise I did not intend to do it. I simply . . ." She threw up her hands in defeat.

He drew a chair up to face her and sat. "You are troubled."

She laughed bitterly. "An understatement, sir."

"Entirely normal, given all that has happened."

"What is there that is normal in this situation?"

"A poor choice of words."

"Perhaps." She leaned against the back of the settee. "I trusted you, Mr. Darcy. Trusted you more than I had anyone. And to find that it was a joke to Lord Carlisle, that our friendship began as a punishment to you—it was humiliating. It wounded me."

Mr. Darcy leaned toward her but kept his hands clasped. "Miss Elizabeth, it was never a joke. It began as a well-deserved chastisement, an order that I repair the damage my stupid insult had caused. I was angry to be treated as a child, but it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I was forced to correct my behaviour and I came to know you better."

"I could not understand why you were always about," Elizabeth said. "Not at first."

"Our meeting at Hatchard's was coincidental, but I came to the lecture because I had been ordered to."

"I wondered why you had come when you said you had heard the lecture before."

"But at the park, in the carriage, when you and Miss Bennet teased me about being hoodwinked by Colonel Fitzwilliam, I felt . . . not friendship, precisely, but the possibility of one."

"I, too."

Mr. Darcy's anguish rang through his words. "I cannot begin to express how deeply sorry I am for the pain my silence has caused you. My love for you is deep and abiding, and it has nothing to do with the conversation that occurred between Lord Carlisle and myself in January. Within three weeks I was thinking differently of you, and within a month, we were truly friends."

"Yes?"

"And a month after that, I found myself already in love with you."

"It was a little longer for me."

Mr. Darcy barked out a laugh. "It was not."

She smiled to herself. "Almost a full day longer. Once I knew you loved me, I could allow myself to feel it." The love was still there, and his warm presence next to her made her feel steadier. Easier. Stronger.

"Then . . . have I ruined it all?"

Elizabeth took a very deep breath and released it slowly. She wished the earl had simply required Mr. Darcy to apologise. But then, would she have seen him often enough for their enmity to transform into friendship and the friendship to develop into love?

She did not think so.

"In the end, Mr. Darcy, your breach of trust was not so very awful, given that you did not pretend to feelings that you did not truly have. But somehow, it has released the memories of every other insult, every broken promise . . ."

His hand hovered over hers. "May I?" he asked.

Elizabeth blinked up at him. "Yes," she said at last.

"You told me, not so very long ago, that nothing remains hidden forever. That such feelings were better exposed to the sunlight."

"Did I? How inconvenient that you should recall."

"That must be what is happening to you. Only it is everything, all at once, and I am sorry." He hesitated. "I am sorry that my failure to consider you was a cause, and sorrier still that there are so many feelings you have kept inside that facing them all has made you ill."

Mr. Darcy curled his fingers around her hand, his own hand warm, gentle, comforting. The sigh that escaped him upon their touch reminded her that he was suffering too. Jane had been right. She did feel better with Mr. Darcy beside her. Brighter. Clearer.

Safer.

"Now," he said, his voice very low indeed. "Please tell me what distresses you. I would help you."

"It is the fire—but even more, it is everything that came before and after."

"Tell me, if you are able," he said gently.