Darcy blinked in surprise. The thought had never occurred to him since Elizabeth was not actually his wife, but now that he thought about it…she could be good for Georgiana. Yes, he could see Elizabeth being of great help to his sister. If she agreed to marry him. Or speak to him. Once they returned to England.
“Ah, I wish I could see her coming out.” Adele lowered her eyes and smoothed her skirts. “But of course, I am needed here.”
“Your home is quite lovely,” Darcy said. He wished he could say something kind about her nephew, but Adele would detect any insincerity. Hopefully when the niece returned from school, she would provide an opportunity to praise Adele’s parenting skills.
“Thank you.” She smiled gently. “Mrs. Darcy seems like a delightful woman.”
“Oh, she is,” Darcy breathed. “Clever, kind-hearted, and beautiful, of course.” Only when he glanced down at his lap did he realize he had inadvertently pulverized the biscuit he was holding. With a chagrined look at Adele, he brushed the crumbs onto the tea tray.
“What is the problem, Will?” Adele’s gaze was sharp.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is it not obvious? Elizabeth and I are trapped in France.”
Adele gave an unladylike snort. “Do not try to fool me. I did not believe you when you denied feeding your horse a lemon biscuit, and I do not believe you now. What makes you so uneasy about Mrs. Darcy?”
Darcy opened his mouth to deny the assertion, but then he sighed. Adele would pry it out of him eventually; she knew him too well. And there was no one he would trust more with his secret. “We are not actually married,” he blurted.
Adele slowly lowered her teacup to the table. “Fitzwilliam Darcy! You have been living in sin with that lovely young woman?”
Darcy ran his hands through unruly curls. “No. Well, not precisely.” Adele sat quite straight in her seat, one eyebrow raised. “Elizabeth believes we are married.”
“Not a matter which is usually the subject of confusion,” Adele said dryly.
“I told you she sustained a blow to the head and suffered memory loss—amnesia the doctor called it.”
Adele nodded. “In all my years I never heard of such a thing.”
“She does not recall me or anything about her previous life.” Darcy tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. When had the room grown so warm? “I had believed her to be dead. When I first saw her at the doctor’s house, I was so surprised that I claimed her as my wife. Perhaps because I wished it to be true, or perhaps I knew the doctor would not allow me to take her back to England unless I had such a claim to her.” He swallowed convulsively. “The lie has proved to be something of a necessity. It is unlikely she would have trusted me so easily or traveled with me so readily if she knew the truth.”
“Trust built on a lie.” Adele covered her face with both hands. “This was not well done of you, Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy’s shoulders hunched; she only called him Fitzwilliam when he had done something wrong. He wanted to deny her words, but he could not. There may have been conveniences attending to his falsehood, but it was still a falsehood.
“Have you considered what will happen when she discovers the truth?”
Darcy shrugged. “After traveling so long as husband and wife, we must needs marry. We have shared many rooms, although—of course—we have not conducted…marital relations.” This was a rather uncomfortable subject to be discussing with one’s former governess. “Long before I arrived in France, I realized that marrying Elizabeth was the best way to secure my happiness.”
Adele eyed him shrewdly. “But is it what Elizabeth wants?”
Darcy grabbed his teacup and took a hasty swallow. “The mistress of Pemberley will have many compensations.”
“Enough to compensate for all the falsehoods?”
Darcy felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. “Sh-She is fond of me,” he said, aware how weak it sounded.
Adele scoffed. “I am sure she is fond of her sisters and puppies and boiled potatoes. That does not signify.”
Darcy leaned forward as if closer proximity would help Adele understand. “But she must marry me. Her reputation is too compromised to marry anyone else.”
“That will make a very fine marriage proposal,” Adele said tartly.
Darcy could not help remembering the disastrous proposal at Hunsford. Why would Elizabeth accept his advances now when she had so decisively spurned them before? He squirmed in his chair, trying to get comfortable. The room definitely had grown warmer. What a mess he had created. “What can I do?”
“You should tell her the truth at once.”
His whole body protested the idea. “I cannot do so now!” he exclaimed. “She still remembers nothing about her past. I cannot risk losing her trust.”
Adele’s face was impassive. “You would prefer that she discovers a basic fact about her life another way? Perhaps when she recovers her memories?”