Page 68 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
“Here, let me help you with that.” He picked up the pieces.
“We’re going home,” Robert said out of nowhere.
“Home? What do you mean?” Cecily cried, getting to her feet. “Robert, what is this?”
“We’re going home,” he said firmly once more, turning to face her. “How can I walk back into the Duke of Darby’s house now and face the Duke of Lantham? How can I see him crow over me again and again? I cannot do it. I cannot. We are leaving and going home.”
“I think it a wonderful idea.” Juliet jumped to her feet. She took Arthur’s arm and urged him to the side. “Do not worry yourself with that. Here, would you help me to the carriage, please?”
“Yes, of course.” He looked delighted as he took her arm and escorted her away.
Juliet purposefully didn’t lift her chin or search the crowds. She didn’t think she would be able to bear looking at Edward ever again.
Chapter 21
“What is going on?” Edward muttered to himself, hands on his hips in the entrance hall of the Duke of Darby’s house as he watched Juliet run up the stairs with her family.
Seeing the family take their leave of the racecourse, Edward had hastened to follow them on his horse, determined to speak with Juliet to find out why she had not spoken to him since she had left him that note, begging to see him in the nursery.
As she walked across the landing now, she didn’t even turn back and look at him but spoke in hushed tones with her sister before they disappeared together.
Edward raised his hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose, fearing that somehow his family’s horse winning the race may have torn him and Juliet asunder.
That could not be it. She wouldn’t look at me throughout dinner last night or breakfast this morning.
“Edward?” a voice hissed behind him.
He looked around, startled to see that another had clearly raced back to the house. Clarissa followed him inside with great haste.
“Clarissa?” he said in amazement. “What are you doing here?”
“Being here alone is one of the few chances I have to talk openly with you.” She took her hand, as she often did. She had always been a good friend to him and was keen to touch everyone she knew.
“Now?” Edward glanced away up the stairs. He feared what was happening with Juliet, feared something had gone wrong. He longed to leave Clarissa’s side to talk to Juliet. He even considered barging his way into her chamber, as inappropriate as that was, just to get her to talk to him and explain what was so wrong between them. “Please, Clarissa, another time. There is someone I must speak to.”
“I would talk another time if I could, but I am out of time.” Clarissa looked at him desperately. “Please, Edward. You’re the only one who understands what I am going through.”
He saw the pain in her eyes, saw the firm press of her lips together, and knew that he could not say no.
He glanced up the staircase one last time, but Juliet was not returning.
“Very well, this way.” Edward urged Clarissa to follow him into the front parlour. They stepped in together, and he closed the door. “Well? What has happened?”
“You must read it for yourself.” Clarissa delved a hand into the reticule she carried at her wrist and pulled out a letter, thrusting it towards him. “Please, Edward. Read it.”
He took the letter, reading it as quickly as he could. Before him, he saw the handwriting of the man whom Clarissa had spoken so much about as of late. It was of the merchant, Mr. Jeffrey Darcy. He was a man Edward knew in passing, though not particularly well, yet after all he had heard Clarissa speaking about him of late, he rather felt he knew Mr Darcy very well indeed.
In the letter, Mr. Darcy repeatedly professed his love for Clarissa. He spoke as well of how he knew their love was forbidden, how her father had even refused to give his blessing when Mr Darcy had asked for it to marry Clarissa.
Mr Darcy offered a chance at the end of the letter, a way for the two of them to be together.
“If you love me as I love you, then let us take our future into our own hands. Let us not be curbed or instructed by the pride and indignation of your father. Let us lead our own lives, my love! Come with me to Gretna Green. There, I will pledge you my soul, my love, and everything I have to offer you for my whole life.
I love you, dear Clarissa. Please, I beg of you, marry me and start our new life together?”
Edward looked up. There was a tight feeling in his chest. Something about the way Mr Darcy had talked of the pride and indignation of a father struck home much more than Edward had expected it to. He even looked down and read the same passage again, his eyes tarrying on the very same words as before.
“… let us take our future into our own hands …”
