Page 93 of The Slipper Scandal
Reluctantly, she raised her gaze to his, expecting to find judgement or pity. Instead, his expression held only compassion and a deep understanding that broke her heart anew.
"Now you understand," she whispered, echoing the fears that had haunted her since their engagement began. "This is what awaits us."
Mr. Darcy took her hand in his. "No," he said firmly. "This is not our fate, Elizabeth. We are not your parents."
She shook her head, pulling her hand away. "How can you be certain? They began just as we have—with an obligation, not a choice. And look what became of them."
"They are not us. And even if weweresimilar, the circumstances of our beginning need not predict the life we live together," he replied, his voice steady with conviction.
Elizabeth wanted desperately to believe him, but the scene she had just witnessed had shaken her deeply. "My father once made similar promises, I imagine. Yet here they are, twenty-four years later, unable to spend an hour in each other's company without recrimination and acrimony."
She rose from the settee, needing space to gather her composure. "You deserve better than this, Mr. Darcy. Better than a family whose every interaction must mortify you, better than a wife whom you might one day regard with the same contempt my father cannot conceal."
"Elizabeth—" he began, but she cut him off.
"Please," she said, her voice breaking. She was going to be ill. "I am so sorry."
Without waiting for his response, she fled the room.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Darcy remained seated in the drawing room, staring at the doorway through which Elizabeth had fled. The Bennets' bitter exchange, the raw pain beneath their cutting words, helped him comprehend Elizabeth’s fears with a terrible clarity.
He rose at last, crossing to the window. The Abernathys' modest garden lay before him, winter-bare but meticulously maintained. Its orderliness offered a stark contrast to the emotional chaos he had just witnessed. How many years had the Bennets lived in that state of mutual resentment, he wondered. And how many moments had Elizabeth and her sisters endured, watching their parents' marriage crumble beneath the weight of disillusion and obligation?
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He turned to find Miss Abernathy hesitating at the threshold.
"Mr. Darcy," she said, her voice gentle with concern. "Forgive the intrusion. I wondered if you might care for some tea before you depart."
He inclined his head, grateful for her attentiveness. "Thank you, Miss Abernathy, but no."
She entered the room nonetheless, moving to stand beside him at the window. For a moment, they observed the garden together in silence.
"You are thinking of Elizabeth," she said at last. It was not a question.
"I am," he admitted. "I fear she has drawn certain conclusions about our future based on her parents' unhappiness, and I am unsure how to address them."
Miss Abernathy's expression softened with understanding. "It is why she spent so much time with us when we lived in Hertfordshire.” Her smile was wistful. “That, and we were rather loath to be separated.”
"She does not accept that we might write a different ending to our story," Darcy said, more to himself than to her.
"Perhaps you might," she agreed, surprising him with her candour.
Darcy turned to study her face, finding no judgment there, only genuine concern. "You know her well."
"Long enough for me to recognize when she is fighting her own heart."
Her words kindled a flicker of hope within him. "You believe she cares for me, then?"
Miss Abernathy hesitated, no doubt weighing her loyalty to her friend against what she perceived to be in Elizabeth's best interest. Her answer was careful. "I believe she would not be so distraught if she felt nothing for you."
It was not the declaration he might have wished, but it offered him comfort nonetheless. His heart ached, but most of the pain was for Elizabeth’s situation. "Thank you, Miss Abernathy. Your insight is most valuable."
She nodded, then glanced towards the doorway. "If you will excuse me, I should go to her."
"Of course," Darcy replied. "Please tell her . . . tell her I understand, and that I will call again tomorrow, if she is willing to receive me. Perhaps your mother might provide us a short period of complete privacy? We have been making the attempt for some days now."
Miss Abernathy promised she would deliver his message and departed, leaving Darcy alone once more.
