Page 81 of One Night with Mr. Darcy
“Too cold for swimming,” said Willie, wrinkling up his nose. “Bad day.”
“Bad day indeed, small man,” said the colonel. “There are blankets in my carriage. Let’s get you warmed up.”
“Where is Mama?” said Willie.
“I don’t know, little one.” His voice was hoarse.
He took the boy back to the road, back to the carriage. When he got there, however, the door was open.
Elizabeth, hair wet and dripping and wrapped in one of the blankets he’d been talking about, was sitting inside.
“Mama!” said Willie.
“Yes, come here, little man,” said Elizabeth, reaching out a bare arm to the boy.
The colonel shook his head at her. “You—you… you’re not in the lake.”
“My clothes are,” said Elizabeth. “Floating right in the middle along with Willie’s little cap. It’ll be enough. My husband wants me dead. He wants rid of me. He saw me out there with him, Charlotte made sure of it. I’m dead.” She let out a wild laugh.
Willie squirmed out of the colonel’s arms and crawled over to his mother, who seemed to only be wearing her shift beneath the blanket. The colonel saw a hint of wet fabric as she pulled the little boy in under the blanket, against her skin. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head.
“He won’t think…” The colonel shut the door, closing them inside the carriage. “He won’t think you’d kill yourself. I didn’t believe it.”
“You did.” She lifted her chin, holding his gaze. “You did. I saw the way you started when you saw me. You thought I’d done it.”
The colonel banged on the top of the carriage, and it took off.
She sighed. “I trust the driver will not speak of this?”
“I knew to ensure his trustworthiness when I got your message to come, yes,” said the colonel. “You could have warned me.”
“No, you would have tried to talk me out of it. All anyone I told did was try to tell me not to.”
“I don’t see…” Richard shook his head at her. “How does this really improve anything?”
She held onto her son, shutting her eyes.
“Mama, too cold for swimming,” said Willie.
“Yes, little man, it was far too cold,” said Elizabeth. “That is why I had you go with Charlotte while I finished up.”
“No more swimming.”
“No,” said Elizabeth. “No more swimming indeed.”
“Explain it to me, Elizabeth,” said the colonel.
“Well, right now, Charlotte will be seeing that it is just clothing in the lake. She’ll be relieved. But she’ll keep up the ruse for my husband, saying something—either that she cannot get to me, or that I must have chucked off my clothes and have sunk to the bottom of the lake. He’ll think it a sign that he has finally gone through the trial set for him. Mr. Collins’s reward is to get to marry Charlotte and have all of Rosings, and I couldn’t care less what he does. I guarantee he will not want me back. I have nothing to fear on that score.”
“He wants Charlotte?” said Richard, thinking about how pretty Charlotte was, how dedicated to helping her friend. “But she… saddling her with him—”
“Charlotte’s birthday was two weeks ago. She is one and thirty. Any husband will do for her,” said Elizabeth with a sigh. “And I have altered the will to ensure that in the event of Mr. Collins’s death, Rosings is hers.”
“That’s what’s entirely mad. My aunt gave you more than she should ever give you, and you treat it like nothing, simply throw it away—”
“Yes, the estate is what’s important.” She laughed again.
“But you’re dead, then,” said the colonel. “Where does that leave you? You can’t go anywhere. You can’t go to your family, or to anyone who has ever known you. You didn’t have me make up any documents for you, not like you did for Willie.”
