15. Intermezzzo

Intermezzo25 years earlier

George Darcy sat alone in his study, staring into his coffee cup. The warmth of the cracking fire did nothing to dispel the cold that had settled into his heart. Lifting his eyes to the window, the night's darkness somehow reflected his mood. I have never been more alone.

Two months ago, Anne had returned with the baby. Both were happy and healthy after a four month absence to be with her family. That first month was like returning to the early days of their marriage. The woman he had loved had finally returned to him. Shifting uneasily in his seat, he sighed. One month ago he had confessed his indiscretion to her. Anne was devastated. They had hardly spoken the entire month.

I wish I have never told her. Angrily he pushed himself up from his chair, for a moment wishing he had not ordered his servants to remove all spirits from his private study. Leaning heavily on the fireplace, he shook his head. No, I had to tell her, Bradley was right, the guilt was too much to bear. She deserves the truth. She did not deserve what I did. But what now? Is this all that will be, cold civility and fumbling attempts at banal conversation over meals? I never thought…

His reverie was broken by a soft knock at the door. Somehow the sound was unfamiliar, not the purposeful sound his servants made. "Come," his own voice sounded strange in his ears.

Slowly the door opened and a timid figure clad in robe and nightdress appeared.

"Anne!" he exclaimed, hurrying to her side. "Are you well? The baby…"

"We are both well," she softly replied, drawing her robe more tightly around her.

He could not read her expression, but clearly she had had little sleep.Her eyes—has she been crying? His gut wrenched at the thought. "Please come in." He guided her to the settee and carefully sat beside her, waiting.

She stared into the fire for a long time, gathering her thoughts. Finally, she glanced up at him. His hair was tousled and his cravat and neck cloth gone. His waistcoat lay over his desk and his shirt hung untucked. A tortured look haunted his handsome features. Bradley is right, I must talk to him. She sighed. "I must ask you a question, sir," she whispered, dropping her eyes once again. "Why?"

Her voice seemed to echo loudly off the walls despite the fact he could hardly hear her words. His heart seized in his chest. Why indeed?

When he did not immediately answer she continued, "Did you love her? Did you…desire her?" Anne's voice cracked as she forced back her tears.

"No." This time the answer came quickly and decisively. "No, I did not."

Buoyed by his response, she courageously met his eyes. "Then why, George? I have to know."

Dropping his face into his hands, he rubbed is eyes hard, trying to drive the image of her pain back far enough that he could speak. "Does it really matter?" His voice was low with grief. "How does that change what I have done or my responsibility for it? I betrayed you Ann, and I am sorry." Unable to contain himself, he sprang to his feet to pace. "I have failed you…and our son abominably. Why I did does not matter, it does not change that I did." Falling to his knees before her, he cried, "My Anne, please, please forgive me. I cannot continue with this distance between us." He rested his forehead on her knees, quietly waiting his fate.

Bradley says I must forgive. I have no choice in that. Drawing up her courage, she laid her hand softly on his unruly curls. "Our parson says I must forgive you, it is my Christian duty, and so I will…"

His head shot up, a forgotten hope lighting his eyes.

"…but…"

The word fell like a rock into his belly.

"If ever I am to trust you again, if ever we are to be as we once were…"

His heart caught in his throat at the possibility.

"I must understand why." Resolutely, she set her jaw, waiting, trying to drive away the fear. What reason can he possibly give me for not keeping his vow to me? Can there be any cause that would allow me to trust him again? I cannot see it.

How can I admit such a thing to her? She will hate me for my weakness. But then again, she already does. What more is there to lose? If there is even a chance…I must. "On Anne," he stared over her shoulder, unable to meet her eyes. "This was my fault and mine alone. I can blame no other for it. I felt nothing for her, nothing. In truth she is a selfish, manipulating woman who found my in my cups and offered herself to me in my weakness."

Unconsciously, she shook her head, anger rising. That is not good enough. Too much port and you take to the arms of another? I can never trust…

George felt her pull back from him. Desperately he continued, "Anne, I was angry and hurt. I drowned myself in port so I would not feel."

Startled her eyes flashed, locking on his. "Angry? Hurt? Over what?" she demanded loudly, jumping to her feet. Stepping back from him, her hands outstretched and shaking, she continued stridently, "How dare you! What right did you have…"

"What do you mean Anne? Have you no idea of what I have suffered?" he exclaimed, his temper flaring dangerously. He retreated to the fireplace, leaning on the mantle.

"What you have suffered? You? Excuse me sir, but it was I who suffered, not you! Or have you forgotten the four babes that I lost?" Shock and hurt mingled with the fury in her eyes.

George felt his chest tighten as an angry flush rose on his neck. "What would you know of suffering, madam?" Bitterness sufficed his voice. He balled his hands into fists so tightly they shook. "It was only babes you lost, ones you never even knew and now you have a healthy son…"

She gasped at the coldness of his words.

"But each time I… lost… my… wife," his voice broke as he stumbled on the words, "…my dearest, precious wife."

The crackling fire became loud in the silent room as Anne considered her husband's unexpected words. Hesitantly she stepped toward him, laying her hand on his arm.

He pulled away abruptly as though burnt. "Have you any idea how much I suffered?" A frightening glint came into his dark eyes as he took her shoulders in his large hands. "You stole my wife from me! With each loss you drew farther and farther away from me, into your rooms, into yourself, until my wife was gone. I lost my wife!" For a moment, he stood panting, his fury spent. Slowly he released her to pace the room again. "The port numbed my pain. When Lavinia came to me, I was so angry-Anne I am so sorry—I wanted to hurt you as badly as you hurt me. I was wrong, I should never have allowed my temper to…" he could not continue as he leaned against his desk, face in his hands trying to contain the ragged sobs.

For a long moment Anne stared at her husband, her heart breaking. I never knew. In my own grief, I did shut him out. A fresh sorrow washed over her. I hurt him and I never knew! What have I done? She flew to his side, clutching at his hands, pulling them away from his face. "George…"

The sound of her voice speaking his name arrested him.

"I did not know. I had no idea. I …hurt you?" Tears flowed down her cheeks, matching his. "I see now, I see!"

"Iit does not excuse what I have done, nothing does!" he protested weakly, moving to lace his fingers in hers.

"No, you are right. But now I understand." She pressed her forehead against his hand for a long moment. "I understand hurt and I understand being angry and alone. I hate that I never saw I was doing that to you. Yet, I find, if I am truly honest, I cannot hate you for that."

Astonished, he tipped her chin up to gaze into her tear-filled blue eyes. "What are you saying?"

Drawing a deep breath, she answered, "Will you forgive me for…for taking your wife from you? I was wrong to hurt you that way." She blinked at him earnestly. I thought I was the only one wronged here. I was so certain of my own innocence, but it is not so. He was wrong, yet so was I. What a fool I was to be so vain to think he was the only one. " Perhaps if we both forgive, we can begin anew?"

"Oh, Anne!" he exclaimed, drawing her into his arms. "My precious, precious Anne, I am so sorry I allowed my hurt and resentment to build. I should have…oh so many things I should have done differently. Even if you can never forgive what I have done, I forgive you, my love." He squeezed his eyes against the fresh flowing tears that he wiped away into her hair. "Let us begin again and I will become the man you deserve. Help me become that man for you and for our son."

Melting into his embrace, she nodded. "I love you George. I want to put this behind us and look ahead. I do not want this last month to be the way of things for the rest of our lives. We will work at this and make it right. I fear it may not be easy. I find that I am less perfect than I thought…" she laughed ruefully as she gazed up at him, loosing herself in his loving eyes.

"You are perfect enough for me, my love. It is I who am far from it." Tentatively at first, he leaned down to kiss her. She reached up to meet him, tangling her small hand in his hair.

Perhaps we can make this right even now.