Page 77 of His Dark Heart
“I cannot do this. I feel as though—”
“Hush,” said William. “Do not say it. Do not even think it. Warriors are a superstitious lot, my sweet. We take things to heart.”
Elizabeth glanced over at Jane and Finn, who were in the midst of their own goodbye without even talking. Jane merely stared into Finn's eyes while his thumb caressed her perfect cheekbone. Elizabeth gazed at William, who was dwarfed by Caddock fidgeting behind him, and twined her fingers through his. Her lips brushed his knuckles.
“Pray, be safe, my William.”
“I shall be.” His mouth caught hers in a soft, gentle kiss that made her body hum. Their lips still touching, he said: “You are the sun in my sky. I love you beyond measure. Never forget that, my sweet.”
“Come home to me.”
They kissed once more, and he pushed her away, letting Jane catch her, though the light grasp was hardly within her notice, she was so fixated on William. As he joined his men on their horses, she ran to the gateway of the yard with the intent to watch the riders until they were tiny black dots, then stood in place, weeping, with only Charles at her side, waiting in silence for a protracted length of time.
“My lady, if you will allow me to escort you to your suite. This air is chill and is not good for you.”
She nodded absently and allowed Charles to accompany her into the great house. He took her to the stairs of the family wing.
“Shall you find your way up, my lady?” Charles asked.
Although numb, she was able to nod, and he departed. Elizabeth climbed each stair as though it was the highest mountain in the world. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she conquered each agonizing, lonely step.
When she found herself in their bedchamber, she was surprised. She could not recall how she had managed to get there. Her head throbbed with a dull ache. She was still wringing her hands, and they were now sore, but nothing hurt as much as her heart. It was still thumping, but it seemed as though it now stuttered within her breast, like it could not beat properly without William’s love to power it.
“How shall I sleep without him?” she asked, fancying that her voice bounced off the walls of the empty chamber. “How shall I do anything without him?”
Still in her evening clothes, she was more alone than she had ever been in her life as she settled on the bed and wrapped her arms around her husband's pillow, taking a breath so deep, her lungs might burst. It smelled of him, of leather and pine, and she pretended his arms were wrapped as tight as possible around her. She was still pretending when exhaustion finally conquered her, and she fell into a fitful sleep.
* * *
In his tent, Darcy stared at the flame dancing in the lamp and pulled the bearskin blanket over his head. It would be best for him to sleep now, but it was hopeless. Elizabeth was not at his side, in his arms, or anywhere near him.
She is in my heart, as if that does me any good.
When he left her, he had glanced back no more than once, knowing that if he kept looking at her, he could never leave. They rode until almost dark. According to the information his spies had gleaned, he and his men were still more than a half a day's ride from the encampment of Northern Rebels. How would Bingley fare in protecting Elizabeth, and would she allow him to fulfil his assignment? What if Wickham came while he was away?
That thought made him bolt straight up. He had not considered what might happen if Wickham appeared during his absence. In his heart, he could be confident that Elizabeth had made her choice, that she wanted to stay with him, but he could not keep his fear at bay. What if seeing her former sweetheart again made her change her mind?
“You fool,” he hissed. “She is not so fickle as that. She promised to be with you for always, and you know that she would never forfeit a vow.”
Unless Caroline betrays me.
His stomach churned and he tossed until the wee hours, his mind racing, cataloguing what a disaster his life had become.
* * *
William had been gone for four days. In her mind, he was supposed to be back already, but a week was a more practical timeframe. For now, she kept her focus upon on the realm, and fussed about her subjects, her husband's lands, and the tiny squabbles that needed to be settled before her. As was the custom for those who ruled-in-stead, she sat upon her husband's chair and won more affection from her enamoured people. Even though she was aware rumours existed about her sudden decline, Elizabeth remained calm and dignified in public.
When she had consulted the looking glass that morning, dark circles ringed her eyes, and her usually bright, shining complexion was tinged with green. Her cheeks were drawn, and she tended to rub her stomach when nobody was paying attention. Many members of the court assumed she was exhausted and unable to sleep without her husband, which was, in part, true.
Instead of joining Jane for tea when invited, Elizabeth retired to her chambers. She told Heather to send her regrets and that she needed to lie down, but once she was alone, she spent several minutes heaving into a chamber pot. When she was tidying herself, a knock fell on her door.
Fearing dreadful news, she cautiously opened it to find Jane there, concern etching deep lines on her pretty face.
“My lady, might I come in?”
“Of course.”
“You look ill.”
