She frowned. “What of Miss Howard?”
He shrugged. “She will accompany him to their properties in Upper Canada.”
“And . . .” she peered up at him. “The babe is safe?”
William nodded. “The boy will be raised by distant relations, and Howard is leaving the family estate to him.”
Elizabeth sighed. “That is good. I must say that I shall be greatly pleased to see them go.” She placed her hand on William’s chest. “It was very wrong of Miss Howard to lie, particularly about you. But she is so young. Perhaps in a new place, she can begin again.”
Her husband pulled her close. “You are quite possibly the most generous-hearted person I have ever met, Elizabeth.”
“No,” she told him quite sternly. “Forgive me, but had Mr. Howard harmed you . . .” She shook her head. It made her ill to think of it. “And Henry and Colonel Fitzwilliam would help me accomplish it.” She did not know what “it” might be, but it would be terrible. She was sure of it.
William gazed at her with something like adoration. He kissed her forehead. “Thank you, my dear.”
Elizabeth bustled about the sitting room, picking up their books, her shawl, and a ledger William had sent Mr. Slipworth to find.
Her husband had not escaped his confrontation unscathed after all. His knee had swollen overnight—she could not persuade him to explain how he had been injured—and she was fussing over him every bit as much as he had over her.
She had been anxious for Jane’s health at Netherfield, of course, but seeing her strong, active husband hobbling about their chambers in pain was almost more than Elizabeth could bear. She had taken command immediately, ordering willow bark tea and steeping it over the fire in their room, arranging for ice to be brought up every few hours to prevent the swelling from growing worse, and above all, trying to force him to remain in bed or on the chaise to elevate his leg. She had asked Slipworth for William’s walking stick. Thus far her husband had refused to use it.
He grumbled, but Elizabeth suspected that he rather enjoyed being coddled.
She was clearing away their mess in the sitting room because Henry and the colonel were coming to call, and Elizabeth was adamant that her husband would not be using the stairs. Not today, and likely not tomorrow, either. She had Mr. Slipworth assist William to the chaise in their sitting room, where she placed a pillow under his leg and made certain he was comfortable while he observed her fussing with an affectionate smile. He drew the line when she approached him with a blanket for his legs.
“Take that away. I am not an invalid,” he said stoutly.
“Very well,” Elizabeth said with authority. “We shall save it for after your cousins depart.” She folded it and put it back in their bedchamber. “There,” she said as she returned, finally content with their arrangements. “Are you certain your cousins wish me to attend?”
“Henry insisted,” her husband told her. “He has something to tell us, his note said, but it also said that you are cleverer than I and that if I wished to skip the gathering, I might.”
She laughed. “He is an odd one, our Henry.”
“But clever,” Henry remarked as he and the colonel entered the room without announcing themselves.
“Very clever,” Elizabeth agreed, approaching to kiss him on the cheek. She could not be certain, but she thought his expression warmed a bit.
“Colonel, please come in,” she said kindly.
“No kiss for me?” the colonel teased.
“If you wish one, of course,” she replied and proceeded to place one on his cheek as well.
“That is enough kissing,” William called from the chaise. “She is only supposed to kiss me.”
“Yes, dear,” Elizabeth replied while rolling her eyes so his cousins could see. “He has become quite a bear with his bad leg.”
“Not too bad, I hope, Darce?” the colonel asked as he took a chair across from William.
“Nothing a few days will not mend,” William replied.
Tea and cakes were brought up as the Darcys had not yet broken their fast. Elizabeth poured while the Fitzwilliam men eyed the cakes.
“Honey cakes!” exclaimed the colonel. He grinned. “These are my favorites.”
“Elizabeth asked me yesterday,” William informed him. “I told her it was seed cake, but she did not believe me. She discovered the truth from Mrs. Spencer.”
“I do not see my favorites here,” Henry announced, one hand suspended above the platter.