Page 48 of A Most Beloved Sister
It was only the slam of the front door that shook him from his thoughts, and he realized that he had allowed her to enter the manor without even offering his escort, let alone an arm on which to lean to ease the burden of her wounded feet.
He hurried to enter the house and was greeted by the icy stare of the butler, who opened the door only just wide enough to allow Darcy through. Darcy looked around, but it was of no use; the extra moments he’d required to squeeze through the door and past the servant had given Elizabeth all the time she’d needed to escape up the stairs to her rooms.
“I believe Miss Elizabeth’s feet were quite painful, sir,” the butler said.
Darcy scowled at the man’s impudence. “See that she receives more of the salve from my valet.”
“Very good, sir.”
Feeling as though nothing could go right for him, Darcy stormed to the library, fuming as he went. With Miss Bingley’s absence, he now felt at liberty to go to whichever room of the house he most desired, as opposed to feeling trapped in his rooms or the other gentlemen-only rooms. One could only be in another man’s study with naught to do or play billiards for so long before running mad.
Picking up the book he had discarded the previous evening, he settled himself onto a comfortable chair in front of thefireplace to read. The first page reminded him of why he had set it aside in the first place, but he forced himself to continue reading—anything to push away the events of the day and the overpowering feelings that came with them.
Unfortunately, the words of Robert Burns were not enough to calm the tumultuous storm of emotions that raged through his mind and wreaked havoc on his heart. Memories that were long buried came rushing to the surface.
Seeing Elizabeth—the cause of his current turmoil—and Wickham—a representation of his bygone trauma—in company with one another brought the past crashing into the future.
“It was Wickham, wasn’t it, Anne? Don’t lie to me! I saw you whispering with him at your door yesterday. What was he doing visiting your chambers?”
“Nothing, George! I swear to you, he was just asking after my health and passing on a message from his wife. There was nothing more than that! You won’t allow me to see anyone ever since the baby…”
“I told you never to speak of it! I don’t believe you. You’re sleeping with my steward, aren’t you, Anne?”
“No, George!”
“Well, you won’t be able to see your lover any longer. I’ll see to that!”
Then another memory swam into view:
“Fitzwilliam, can’t you do something?”
Darcy stared into the pleading face of his friend. “What do you want me to do, George?”
“Tell your father to change his mind! Papa hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s been your father’s best friend—he would never betray him! You know that!”
“I know, George, but there’s nothing I can do.”
“You can talk to him!!”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?”
“You can’t let him do this, Fitzwilliam. He promised he would send me to school with you, remember? That he would provide a living for me. If he sends us away, if he doesn’t write a letter of recommendation for my father… what’s going to happen to us?”
“Is that all you can think about, George? What’s going to happen to you? What about me, my family? My father has my mother locked in her chambers! He won’t let her out! He won’t let her—or me—talk about my sister. It’s as if she never existed.”
“This is my entire life!”
“Is that all that matters? Is that all the Darcys are to you? A way to get ahead?”
“It’s not as if it’s going to matter to you, Fitzwilliam. Whatever your father does, you’ll still inherit Pemberley. You’ll still have a future. My family will have nothing. I will have nothing. I’ll be expected to work for a living! I was destined for greater things. Your father promised me! I’m his godson—I deserve more!”
“Some friend you are!”
“I’ll never forgive you for this! Never!”
“Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy jumped in his seat, his head shooting upward to look at the figure in the doorway.
