Chapter 8

Darcy had waited outside Elizabeth's door until the doctor came back out with Mrs. Landsdowne. "She is asleep, Mr. Darcy. Dr. Thomas gave her some laudanum. She will be all right under the watch of her maid."

Darcy realized he could do nothing more to help, and so he made his way back to his own room, rather than returning to the ball. He wanted to find Lord Carlisle and beat his face in. He wanted to call him out, to spill his blood. How could a grown, healthy man, take his fists to such a petite, lissome creature as Elizabeth? Darcy's anger was unending, as was his love, and he found no sleep that night. He wanted with everything in him to grab Elizabeth and take her far away from here. They could run away to Europe together. Mayhap France, or Italy. She would never be beaten again.

But he knew those were vain imaginings. Even if he imagined Lord Carlisle would not come after them, he could not leave Pemberley and Georgiana. He had responsibilities here in England that he could not forsake, no matter how much he loved Elizabeth. Besides, he could not ruin Elizabeth's name in such a way, not to mention his own. Georgiana would never marry if he ran off with a married woman, and a peer's wife at that. Even if Lord Carlisle divorced her, which Darcy could not imagine his doing, both their reputations would be ruined. Lord Carlisle would be more likely to come after them, and take Elizabeth from Darcy. And Darcy would have no recourse against him, for he was Elizabeth's husband and owned her according to law. Then Elizabeth would face a wrath she had heretofore never imagined. No, he could not run away with her.

He came back to his plan of going to London for the little season this winter. He would have to be away from Elizabeth for a month or so when Lord Carlisle took her back to Campton Manor, but maybe she would be safe until then. Surely he would not beat her again until she healed? Although Darcy could not imagine the depths his evil could plumb. Perhaps he would beat his wife to death.

Darcy tried to ignore such panicked thoughts. There was nothing he could do. He would have to wait until they returned to London. If Elizabeth could befriend Georgiana, he would be able to see her more often. And Georgiana would benefit from the friendship. She would have loved to have Elizabeth as a sister. The thought made his heart feel hollow once again. That could never be.

A hatred and rage such as he had never known before filled him at the same time as a quiet despair. Even if they could never be together, he would be there to support Elizabeth, to protect her as well as he could from the monster she called husband. He would not fail her.

Elizabeth woke up late the next morning, feeling groggy. She had had strange dreams all night, no doubt an effect of the laudanum, in which Vincent and Mr. Darcy both appeared. As she woke fully the memory of the dreams faded and she thought only of the coming day. It was with dread that she realized that today she must leave the Landsdownes, and Mr. Darcy, to return to Campton Manor. She had little hope that she would see Mr. Darcy again. Despite his evident concern for her last night, she knew he was a man of principle. He would not wish to be tempted to violate his moral code.

She wondered what he truly knew about her situation. What had Rosamond revealed to him? He would have to be an idiot not to have figured out what was going on, and Elizabeth knew that Darcy was very intelligent indeed. She felt ashamed, even as deep down she knew that none of it was her fault. She did not want to have to see him again, to say goodbye forever; while at the same time, she longed for a sight of his dear face.

She decided that it would not help to lie about stewing over it. She was about to get up to ring for Sarah when her maid appeared, carrying a tray with tea and pastries.

"I thought you might wish to breakfast in your room this morning, my lady," she said.

"That is very thoughtful of you, Sarah. Thank you."

Elizabeth carefully sat up in bed, wincing at the sharp, burning pain in her ribs. Sarah was at her side in a moment, helping her get out of bed. She was not ready to face the painful ordeal of getting dressed, and so she decided she would enjoy her tea while it was hot.

"You have the laudanum bottle, Sarah?"

"Yes, madam. I have hidden it away where no one can find it."

"Thank you. I think I shall only be able to take it at night, but at least I shall rest well."

"I hope so, madam."

She enjoyed her breakfast leisurely. She was not certain when Vincent would wish to leave, but she was sure he would sleep in late. He had always kept town hours, even when they were in the country, and he would have been up especially late last night because of the ball.

She had been relieved last night when Rosamond had assured her that Vincent had not noticed her absence from the ballroom. She was glad her husband was so eager to ignore her, and could only hope it would continue once they returned to Campton Manor.

At last she knew that she needed to get dressed. She looked in disgust at the gaudy dress that Sarah had laid out for her, but made no complaint as she dressed in it. Sarah had had to leave off the corset in order to spare Elizabeth further pain, and she hoped that Vincent would not notice.

She walked carefully downstairs in an effort not to jostle her ribs. At the foot of the stairs she saw Mr. Darcy, almost as if he were waiting for her. She was surprised.

"Good morning, Lady Carlisle," he said in a deep voice. For some reason, she thought she heard tenderness in it, and that, combined with the events of the last twenty-four hours, almost caused tears to spring up in her eyes.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," she replied.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked in a serious tone.

She blushed in embarrassment. So he did know.

"Please do not worry that I will say anything," Mr. Darcy hurried to say, clearly seeing the look on her face. "I am only concerned for you, my d – Lady Carlisle."

Had he been about to say "my dear"? Elizabeth was shocked at the change in Mr. Darcy this morning. He did not look as if he were about to say goodbye forever. And yet, what hope was there in their situation?

"I am not worried," she replied in a soft tone. "I trust you, Mr. Darcy."

He looked relieved. "Then, I hope you will allow me to call on you when you are in London? I would like you to meet my sister."

Elizabeth could not help the surprise as well as the joy that leapt in her heart. He did not mean for them to part, then? She did not know if she should be glad of this or not, but she was all the same.

"I should be very pleased to receive Miss Darcy," she looked up at him, "and you, sir. You will always be welcome." She blushed and looked down again.

Mr. Darcy reached out as if to take her hand, then stopped himself. He cleared his throat. "My carriage is being brought around. I must return to Pemberley. My sister is expecting me in the next day or two."

"I pray you have a safe journey, then, Mr. Darcy."

"Thank you. And you – will you – be all right?" he asked haltingly.

Elizabeth felt that shame burning her face again, and she hated it. It was not her fault that Vincent hurt her. Still, she tried to respond lightly. "I was not born for low spirits, Mr. Darcy. I shall be well as I ever am."

Mr. Darcy did not look convinced; but he looked around, then, noticing that no one was nearby, took her hand and kissed the back of it. Elizabeth could feel his soft lips through her glove and she shivered with the pleasure of it. She had never felt such a thing simply from a man kissing her hand.

"Farewell, then, Lady Carlisle. I shall see you soon."

"Yes, sir. Soon." She was able to summon up a smile.

As he walked away, a new hope filled her heart, along with the love that was already there. She would see Mr. Darcy soon! He was not abandoning her! Although abandon was too strong a word. He had evidently changed his mind last night or this morning. Was it because of the evidence of her husband's brutal nature? But she did not want his friendship simply because he felt sorry for her. Yet there was something in his eyes that spoke of more than friendship. Could he really love her as she loved him? Again she felt the impossibility of the situation; but at least she would have his company when they were in London. He would introduce her to his sister. Perhaps she and Miss Darcy might become friends. She would have to be careful in how she presented the relationship to Vincent. If he thought she wanted Miss Darcy for a friend, he would forbid it just to spite her. She would have to think on that.

When Vincent finally emerged from his room a little after noon, grumpy and ready to leave to go back to his estate, Elizabeth could find nothing to complain about, despite the ache in her ribs as the carriage passed over the rough roads. She was soaring in a heaven of her own making – or rather, of Mr. Darcy's making. She only had to make it through another month or two, and then she would see him again.