Page 49 of Her Whole Heart
She shook her head. “A lingering cough, a bump to the head, and a broken arm. The trellis was too small to take our weight, but there was not enough time to descend one by one or to seek an alternative.”
“My cousin said it detached from the side of the building as she climbed down,” Mr. Darcy mused. "I never did understand how she managed to blacken her eye when Mrs. Buxton explained that she had fallen backwards." It was not a question, not really, and as they were having a rational, polite conversation, Elizabeth decided not to reveal that particular part of the story.
“Did you speak to my father at all?”
“No, he seemed engrossed in a book. But then, I was not there long,” Mr. Darcy said. “My uncle had just arrived when I was called home to Pemberley. My father had perished in an accident. A bridge collapsed while he was on it.”
“Oh, I am so sorry.”
“It was shocking. He was in excellent health otherwise, and I had not expected to inherit for many years.”
Elizabeth shook her head. It was a grievous thing, such a sudden loss. “I suppose it is not the sort of thing a young lady ought to consider, but I have wondered, from time to time, whether it is worse to die without the chance to make your farewells and to leave so many things undone, or to die of an illness with more time to prepare but also more time to suffer and to witness your loved ones suffering, too.”
“My mother died of a long illness. I cannot say I recommend either.”
“No,” she murmured. “No, of course not. And as your father’s death was so unexpected, I imagine he left many parts of his business for you to complete?”
“He did. It took a great deal of time simply to sort everything out. Add to that my sister’s grief and the estate’s constant needs, and I believe this is the longest period I have experienced in town since it all happened. I cleared my schedule to spend time attending events, but it has left me at leisure to think about how my life would have been different if he was still here.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I see.” And she did. She thought she perhaps had answered the question of his behaviour early on. He was still grieving. “Now that you have a moment to breathe, it has caught you up.”
“What has caught me?”
Though he asked the question, Elizabeth thought he might already know the answer.
“You never had a chance to mourn, Mr. Darcy. You were too busy caring for everyone else. But the feelings do not disappear, they are simply stored away in the recesses of our hearts, waiting for the moment they may be brought out, washed and wrung and hung to dry in the sun.”
“My grief is akin to the laundry?”
She chuckled. “Nothing stays hidden forever, Mr. Darcy, not even our feelings. Eventually, everything must be brought out into the light.”
“Otherwise, I become the bitter, unkind man you met at the Ashfords'?”
She turned her head to examine his expression. “Precisely. Now that you have exposed the feelings to sunlight, it may not be so difficult to move on. Of course, a few conversations will hardly be enough, but it grows easier with time.”
He must have felt her gaze, for he turned to look at her. “It seems to me that you have some experience with the emotion.”
There was no denying that. “A great deal, as a matter of fact. I have lost four grandparents. Fortunately, no one in my immediate family has died. But sometimes it feels as though they have.”
She had stymied him, for he did not seem to know what to say.
“I am sorry to hear it.”
She believed that he was. How extraordinary. “What was your father like, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth inquired.
Mr. Darcy tipped his head very slightly to one side, questioning her change of direction, but not remarking upon it.
“My father was a good man, Miss Elizabeth. He was a diligent master and an attentive father. Not flawless by any means, but then, none among us are.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I recall when he taught Georgiana to ride. She was six, and I was a young man then, the summer before I left for Cambridge. We were to take her first ride around the lake, but she was suddenly afraid of a horse she had ridden several times before, and I was impatient to be off. My father took his time to reassure her, reminding her that she had already learned how to ride and that she was very accomplished at it. By the time we began our ride, Georgiana was confident again.”
“You must have loved him very much.”
“I did. His loss was a blow from which I shall never fully recover.”
“You have my sincere condolences, Mr. Darcy.”
His gaze was steady. “Thank you.” He motioned back to the centre of the room, indicating that perhaps they ought to move back within the hearing of Lady Carlisle. Elizabeth acquiesced.
“I must presume that an old apology and my actions a few days ago are not the true purpose behind your visit, Mr. Darcy.”
