The Beginning, Next Section
Chapter 1
My Aunt Philips is a great quoter of proverbs and she delights in repeating them on each and every occasion she deems appropriate. Actually, she delights in repeating almost everything she hears whether it is appropriate or not, but that is neither here nor there. As for proverbs, her favourite is Happy is the bride that the sun shines on. She echoed it incessantly during the seven days before my wedding (which happened to be the entire length of my engagement) and on the morning of said event, when the heavens erupted in a storm of such magnitude the likes of which I cannot describe to this day, she shook her head, rolled her eyes and tsk-tsked at such length that Mamma finally threatened her with banishment if she did not give over.
An explosion of thunder had awakened our household at dawn with such force that I fully expected to witness Napoleon's cannon outside my window. If truth be told, such a woe could not have been less welcome than the ceremony awaiting me. I stood at the window, looking out at the stormy clouds unleashing their fury, and I judged the day perfect for my wedding.
At the hour we were to walk the short distance to the church, a hard, steady downpour caused Mamma to call for the carriages instead. It was such a festive sight to see (I am sure!) - a bevy of black umbrellas shielding our small bridal party of relatives hurrying from Longbourn church to the carriages and then back to our house for the wedding breakfast. And shortly afterwards, if perchance any of the villagers had ventured out of doors in such a storm or peeked out their windows, they would have seen me step quickly (almost hop) to avoid the puddles between the entrance to my childhood home and my new husband's carriage bound for London, although every part of me yearned to splash through the mud in the opposite direction and lock myself safe within the house.
I now watched the raindrops trickle down the carriage window while the cumbersome vehicle lurched back and forth on the road to town and my new life. Obviously, the mud was getting deeper; it felt as though we reeled from rut to rut. The storm grew heavier the farther we traveled, as though heaven, itself, could not refrain from weeping at the travesty of such a union I entered into less than four hours ago. The man sitting on the opposite seat averted his face, choosing to pay as close attention to nature's deluge outside his window as I did.
We had said little to each other since the journey began; indeed, what was there to say? Ill at ease with nothing in common, thrust into an awkward situation, each one wary of the other, we had ridden in silence for at least the last 10 miles. I smoothed the creases in my skirt, observing that the black bombazine melted into the ebony of the fine leather seats. Propriety deemed that I could have worn gray or at least a mixture of black and white, perhaps a stripe, especially since I was a bride, but I chose the same shade I have worn every day since the funeral. Black shoes, gloves and cloak, as well as a dark veil over my bonnet, which caused me to appear as one in deep mourning, which, again, I considered quite appropriate for the day.
I swept my eyes over the interior of the coach, noting its richness and lustre. The upholstery gleamed almost as much as my companion's highly polished boots had shone earlier in the day. Now flecks of mud spoiled the reflection. My eyes traveled from his boots to the long grey coat that he wore, evoking memories of the times I saw him wear it before - at Netherfield in the earliest days of our acquaintance almost a year ago when my sister, Jane, had been taken ill and convalesced there and most recently on the morning after I refused his first proposal of marriage. What were those words with which I rejected him - I had not known you a month before I knew that you were the last man I would ever marry!
"Are you warm enough?" Darcy asked, jarring me back to the present. "There is a rug available if you are chilled."
"Perfectly, sir. I have no need of anything."
He turned his face back to the window. "We should reach town by sundown if this blasted storm does not delay us."
I said nothing, but closed my eyes in dread of the thought, turning my countenance back to the rain soaked landscape. This would be our wedding night and a more reluctant bride did not exist. Of course, I had been assured there would be no intimacy until I desired it, for that was a spoken term of the marriage, if not a written one. I blushed at the remembrance of Darcy's words, "You need have no fear that I shall demand my conjugal rights. The marriage will not be consummated until you come to my bed willingly."
"It may well be a frigid day in July before I do!" I replied.
"As you like," he said, raising one eyebrow, piercing my carefully preserved armor of indignity with his dark, brooding stare, "but I do expect an heir, Miss Bennet. That is one of the terms of this contract. Make sure you have a change of heart before you are past child-bearing years."
"Then you had better take back the word willingly, Mr. Darcy."
"I shall not. I have never forced my will on any woman and I shall not begin with you. If you cannot foresee eventually having my child, then you must refuse this offer."
"Have I not already? Did I not refuse you six months ago at Hunsford, sir?"
"You did, but circumstances have changed, as you are well aware."
I blanched at his words, remembering how carefree I had been in the spring while visiting Charlotte and Mr. Collins, how I had dismissed Darcy's first proposal with all my righteous anger. And I had been correct in doing so. Never had a man proposed in so insolent a manner. He assumed that I would be on my knees thanking him for his great condescension in stooping to marry one so socially inferior. Well, I had put him in his place by refusing him with an equal omission of civility and from the look on his face, I could tell that my words had penetrated his arrogance.
Only three days later my light-hearted world had crashed with the arrival of a post at midnight announcing the death of my beloved father in a hunting accident. His gun had discharged as he bent to retrieve a bird he had just bagged. In April, when new life burst forth all around us, my gentle, kind father had died a most violent death, a death that should not have happened, a death that had such far reaching consequences for, you see, my father's estate was entailed away upon his cousin, Mr. Collins, and he left only the smallest of fortunes to provide for his widow and five daughters. He had never been a man who looked ahead and with a spendthrift wife who loved to dress her daughters as well as herself in the latest finery, extra funds to tuck away had evaporated.
Now, here in the carriage I sighed remembering how I had boarded the early coach for Meryton the very next morning, not even taking time to take leave of Lady Catherine. I had arrived home to find my sisters devastated and I was struck at how suddenly small and lost my mother had appeared at the time. Darcy looked up at the sound of my sigh, but said nothing. We continued on our journey in silence, a state that suited me utterly. He was such a taciturn man, perhaps we would avoid conversation throughout this marriage, saying as little as possible to each other. I had no desire to talk to him and I knew he felt the same, for in the whole of our acquaintance, he rarely carried on any conversation with me, choosing, instead, these futile attempts to wither me with his long, steady, disapproving looks. He was mistaken. I refused to wither.
Lightning flashed through the windows and a crash of thunder shook the carriage. I heard the sound of additional horses and voices and sat forward to look out, observing that we had arrived in a small village. Our vehicle pulled to a stop and I could hear men's voices shouting outside. Darcy immediately opened his door.
"The bridge is out up ahead, sir," the driver said. The locals say we can't get through until the storm subsides."
"Is there not an alternate route?"
"No, sir. This road be the only one passable in this kind of weather, sir."
"Blast!"
"There is an inn, sir. It's not much, but at least it's dry."
Darcy nodded and closed the door, brushing the water from his coat. "It seems we have no choice. We shall have to spend the night in this God-forsaken place."
"It matters little where I stay," I replied.
He pressed his lips together, clenching his jaw.
The inn was small and rustic to say the least. Darcy's footman had gone ahead and per orders, informed the owner that his master was a gentleman and required the very best suite of rooms. We walked in to overhear him inform the man that it was our wedding night. The fat, balding little man laughed coarsely and elbowed his wife in the ribs.
"Their wedding night? They will have no need of a suite, then, will they, dearie? Just a great big bed! Which is a good thing, as we got naught but one room left in the whole place. See that other fancy carriage out there? A family of four got here just a'fore you. We done let the other two rooms to them."
The footman argued repeatedly, offered more money, and finally resorted to threats, but to no avail. There was only one empty room and the owner could not conjure up another. Darcy swore and attempted, himself, to persuade the innkeeper to find more accommodations, but it was useless. I followed Darcy and the man up the stairs into the available bedchamber, all the while conscious of his wife's stares and whispers to the barmaid. "I never seen no bride dressed in black before."
The room was small, but clean. Darcy stomped around, inspecting it while the innkeeper lit the fire. An old chaise that had seen better days sat on the left just inside the door, two straight chairs and a small table were near the fireplace, a narrow armoire rested against one wall with a dresser and mirror opposite and, of course, in the most prominent position in the room sat the bed.
"Supper will be ready in about an hour, sir, and my missus can assist your lady whenever she's needed. Is there anything else I can bring you, Mr. Darcy?"
"A bottle of brandy," he said, his speech clipped and angry.
"Yes, sir, right away, sir," the innkeeper repeated several times as he hurried from the room.
I walked to the fireplace, removing my bonnet and shaking the raindrops from it. I stretched out my hands to the warmth of the blaze and could not help but smile slightly at the sight of Darcy pacing back and forth.
"It is not so bad," I said at last.
He stopped and looked at me. "You think not? No, you would not, for you at least have a bed, while I shall be forced to sleep upright on a hard bench in the common room with my servants."
"If you do that, it will cause talk, you know."
He gave me an inquiring look.
"Your servants are aware this is our wedding night and it seems they have informed the innkeeper. If we spend the night apart, they will know this marriage is a sham. I have nothing to lose by such a revelation, but I would think you wish to avoid such a disclosure this early in the game. I recall that you said we were to act as though we are married in every respect when in the company of others. Was that not one of your requirements?"
Darcy said nothing at first. He simply looked at me, as though measuring my intent in reminding him of such. From head to toe and back again, he slowly surveyed my form. I felt a flush creep up my face and when I spoke, I was disconcerted that my voice came out somewhat higher than usual. "I did not say that, sir, to invite you into my bed. I have no objection, however, if you sleep on the chaise. Perhaps you might request an additional blanket."
Darcy looked from the lumpy old chaise, its springs sagging with an obvious sway in the middle, to the bed and back again. "Very well," he said at last. "If you have no objection, Madam."
"None, as long as you afford me the privacy to dress for bed and retire while you are below stairs."
"I would not have it any other way," he said and stalked out of the room.
For some reason his last words stung. Why, I did not know, but it felt as though he rejected me physically, a feeling I did not like. Six months earlier at Hunsford he had declared that he loved and admired me, that almost from the beginning of our acquaintance he had felt a passionate regard for me. His second proposal contained no like statements, but I assumed some slight feeling still existed on his part, even though the subsequent offer was more like a business arrangement than any semblance of a romantic application. I drew near to a mirror on the far wall, smoothing the slight frizz of my curls caused by the humidity outside. Peering at my image, I noted the dark smudges under my eyes and the pinched hollows in my cheeks. I was much thinner than when at Hunsford, and I had slept little since this whole marriage idea had been thrust upon me, but did Darcy now find me unappealing? Had I lost the bloom that attracted him in the first place? And if so, why should it matter? I disliked the man exceedingly.
A knock at the door preceded the entrance of the innkeeper's wife carrying a china pitcher and bowl, the barmaid with towels over one arm and a well-worn quilt on the other, and the innkeeper following them with a tray containing two glasses and a bottle of brandy which he placed on the small table near the fireplace. The maid spread the multi-colored quilt over the foot of the bed, smoothing it out and turning it back so that it might be easily pulled up in the night.
"Here's your husband's brandy, Ma'am," the man said, "although from the number of drinks he's had downstairs, I doubt he'll need much of it when he returns to you." He laughed and poked his wife in the ribs once again. Believe me, if he were my husband, I would put a stop to those pokes.
"Go on with you, now," she said, shooing him out, "while I help the lady with her toilette. You'll be wanting to dress for dinner, I suppose, Missus, although around these parts it's more of a cold supper."
The maid laughed and poured water into the basin, placing the towels on the dresser beside it.
"No," I said, "I shall go as I am."
"As you wish, Ma'am," the woman said, but I caught her raising her eyebrows at the maid. "Is there anything you be needing then?"
I shook my head and the two women made their exit. I could see no reason to dress for dinner in this place. Surely Darcy would not expect me to, especially since I was wearing my very best dress already, my very best mourning dress, that is. Once again, I recalled the look of surprise on his face when I appeared at the altar that morning dressed completely in black. My mother and I were the only ones to be so attired. Even Jane had discontinued the deep mourning clothes and resorted to grey and black pinstripes some months back. My younger sisters had discarded theirs much sooner and now wore only dark ribbons on their bonnets, Kitty sometimes neglecting even those. At times I felt that all of them had forgotten our father, except for me. My mother rarely cried any more, especially since she was no longer to be thrown out of Longbourn. Was I the only one who still felt his loss with such a piercing bite?
Well, whatever Darcy felt about my dress had been the least of my concerns when I walked down the aisle. Getting through the marriage vows was the task that had almost caused me to run from the church.
"Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health . . ."
I heard the vicar reading the familiar words from the Book of Common Prayer, but when he paused and looked up to hear my assent, the lump in my throat ballooned to such a size that it constricted my breathing. I had to swallow twice before whispering, "I will."
When he continued and I heard Darcy utter his vows aloud, it sounded like a dull roar in my ears and I could not have told you one word that he uttered. Then it was my turn to repeat after the minister, but all I could hear was the same voice in my head screaming over and over, "You are lying! Lying! Lying!"
Swaying slightly, I closed my eyes and shook my head with the tiniest of movements as though I might somehow clear the voices from my mind.
"Miss Bennet?" the vicar said softly, indicating that it was my turn to respond.
I opened my eyes and searched the old man's kind-looking face. He must have assumed I was simply suffering an attack of nerves and so repeated the words for me to say. This time I forced myself to listen and I responded in kind.
"I, Elizabeth, take thee, Fitzwilliam, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to . . ." here I faltered, wishing to beseech the vicar. Could he not see the desperation in my eyes?
"To love, cherish and to obey, until death us do part . . ." he prodded.
I took a deep breath. I could feel Darcy's presence beside me and I turned slightly toward him to see if he would permit me to stand there and lie before God and these witnesses, but his face was turned away from me, his gaze straight ahead, the light in his eyes having turned deadly grey.
"To . . . to love," there, I had said it. Now I could go on and repeat the rest of the phrase, but my voice sounded toneless and dead in my ears.
Darcy must have put a ring on my finger, for I felt it now as I washed my hands and face with the water provided, but I had no memory of his placing it there. I blocked out the remainder of the entire ceremony, the short wedding breakfast thereafter, the best wishes of the few guests in attendance, my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, the Philips, and of course, Mamma and my sisters. Was there anyone from Darcy's family in attendance? I could not remember. Surely someone had stood up with him, as Jane had done for me. Oh yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I vaguely remembered him press my hands before we left Longbourn and the sympathetic look in his eyes as he bid me farewell. Why could not he have been born heir to a fortune and asked for my hand? I do not love him, but I do hold him in high regard. His kindness and pleasing manner are in such contrast to that of his cousin. Surely I could be a wife to him with ease and affection.
Suddenly a great weariness washed over me and I sank down upon the bed and closed my eyes for just a moment. Some two hours later I vaguely sensed someone's presence. I opened my eyes to see Darcy standing close to the bed; with a swift motion, he raised his hand to smooth his hair. Had he been about to touch me? I immediately sat up and looked around, observing the darkness outside the window.
"When you are ready, we can go down to supper," Darcy said, turning away to stoke the fire. The logs had burned down somewhat; the ashes now threw sparks of blue and orange in response to his prodding.
"I am ready," I murmured, patting my hair and glancing in the mirror. I swayed slightly as I stood and reached for the dresser to steady myself.
"Are you ill?"
"No, I must have risen too quickly. That is all."
"Then let us depart." He strode to the door and I followed him, conscious of the smell of alcohol about his person as he held the door open.
The main dish at supper was cold mutton, the fat congealed so heavily that I almost gagged at the sight of it. I picked at the sweetbread pie, but I could not abide the meat. Darcy drank more than he ate, bidding the barmaid fill his glass over and over. I had never before eaten a meal with a complete lack of conversation. I was conscious of the give and take between the family members at the only other table in the room. The girls teased each other, their mother softly chastised them when they became too boisterous, and a wave of loneliness for my sisters, especially Jane, swept over me The noise of the men in the common room adjoining this small dining area, some of whom were Darcy's servants, seemed to call even more attention to the silence at our own table.
At last, I gave up and, placing my knife and fork across the plate, I sat back in my chair.
"Do you care for anything more?" Darcy asked and when I shook my head, he raised one eyebrow. "You have hardly touched your plate. Are you certain you are not ill?"
"I am perfectly well. I simply have no appetite."
"With what we've been served, I can well understand." He stood and indicated we should leave.
"I can make my way alone, sir, if you prefer to remain here," I said.
"I shall see you to the room."
"It is not necessary."
"I shall see you to the room." His words were hard and insistent.
"Very well," I said, my tone equally cold. I could feel his eyes upon me as I climbed the stairs, knowing he was right behind me. The wooden steps were worn to a dull shine, the handrail likewise a burnished chocolate colour, facts that had no bearing upon me but that I can still see to this very day.
Inside the room Darcy poured himself a glass of brandy and walked to the window. I dropped my shawl on the bed and stood, waiting. He was silent, continued to nurse his drink and peered out into the dark, wet night.
At last I spoke, "I shall require at least an hour alone before retiring and I have no need of the maid. I can manage on my own."
He turned and looked at me long and hard and then placing his empty glass on the table, he proceeded to the door.
"Mr. Darcy, I would caution you not to drink excessively. The staircase is quite steep."
He turned, his hand on the doorknob. "Your concern is touching. But if I fall and break my neck, would that not solve your problem? After all, you would then be a rich widow." He uttered a laugh short and mocking, closing the door behind him with sudden force.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the animosity in the room envelop me. How had my life come to this? And how could I bear this future before me, a future bereft of love or happiness? Slowly I unbuttoned my dress and removed it. After washing myself, I slipped out of my chemise and pulled on a long, white nightgown. Mamma had packed it herself, but it was Jane, I knew, who tucked the dried sprigs of lavender between the folds. They both were such optimists, hoping to the end that I shall grow to care for my husband. My mother, indeed, could see no reason why I should not be elated and thankful for a proposal from such a wealthy man, but Jane, who knows my heart and soul as no other, understood my despair and yet still believed Darcy would turn out to be a good and loving husband after all.
I sighed and closed my eyes, shaking my head slightly at the folly of such hopes. I pulled the pins from my hair and released my curls, reaching for the brush to smooth out the tangles. How I wished Jane was here to brush it for me as she has done so many nights of my life. No, what I truly wished was to be home at Longbourn with Jane and not here, trapped in this dismal little room with a man I do not love.
After folding my chemise and placing it in my trunk, I hung my dress in the armoire and placed my shoes there along with my bonnet and cloak. I stirred the fire and walked to the window one last time; the storm had not lessened. As I passed the table, the bottle of brandy stood there, still containing enough for a glass full. I was not accustomed to drink anything more than a glass of wine, but tonight I felt the need of something warm and comforting. Perhaps it would help me sleep. I walked around the room, blowing out the candles as I sipped the sweet brandy. I left one burning on the mantle for Darcy's use. Finally, there was nothing left to do but crawl into bed. I settled down between the sheets and then sighed and arose once more. Taking the extra quilt from the bottom of the bed and one of the pillows, I tossed them onto the chaise.
A good wife would at least make up the couch for her husband, would she not? No, a good wife would never have banished him from her bed. But since when have I wanted to be a good wife to Darcy? With a toss of my curls, I pursed my lips and blew out the remaining candle. Let him find his own way in the dark. I then gave myself up to the call of the bed. Even though the sheets were cold, it turned out to be a fairly comfortable mattress and it was not long before I succumbed to the relief of sleep.
Sometime in the night, I was aware of a pleasant, cozy warmth, as though someone cradled me in his arms. I struggled to awaken, but the effects of the brandy and the exhausting strain of the day kept me from conscious thought. I told myself I must be dreaming and, if I was, I liked the way it felt.
Chapter 2
The morning after my wedding, a slow, steady, thumping sound awakened me - a continual rhythmic cadence resonating in my ear, somehow soothing in its perfect repetition. It skipped not a stroke. I felt the pillow under my head slightly moving up and down with each beat, in and out, in and out. A beat! That is what it was - a heartbeat!
I slowly opened my eyes, struggling through the early morning fog of sleep, attempting to focus on this strange room in which I had spent the night. Oh yes, it was the inn. Now, I remembered. But what was that sound and why was my head going up and down in this slow, persistent manner?
I raised up and that is when I saw him - Mr. Darcy! I was lying with my head on his chest, my arm thrown across him, and both of his arms around me, clasping my body close to his. How could this have happened? He was sleeping soundly, fully dressed except for his boots, and lying on top of the covers. Most of me, fortunately, was under the sheet and counterpane, although I know not how I came to use his chest for a pillow.
I sat up immediately, calling forth his name - "Mr. Darcy!" - with sufficient force that he jerked upward in such haste that our heads collided. We both cried out at the shock of such a blow and I shrank back, as he grabbed his forehead.
"What? What is it?" he muttered, lost in confusion. A stale smell of alcohol permeated his disheveled clothing, his hair was in disarray, and dark stubble covered his chin.
"Get out!" I cried. "Get out of my bed!"
"Your bed?" he answered, blinking in the radiant sunshine that illuminated the room. "But how . . . how did I . . . did you . . ."
"Get out! I do not know what you are about, Mr. Darcy, but I expect you to keep your word!"
"I do keep my word," he muttered, crawling off the bed. When his feet touched the floor, he staggered and had to grab the bedpost to steady himself. He moaned and reached for his head again. "Will you not blow out that blasted candle?"
"What candle? The light is from the sun and not even you, sir, can order it blown out. Now, will you leave this room?"
He blinked again, screwing up his eyes as though they refused to focus, and lurched toward the door, but then turned back once more. "My boots. I need my boots."
They lay beside the bed as though thrown off in a hurry. I crawled across the mattress, picked up first one, then the other, and threw them at him, hitting his stomach with one. He doubled over and glared at me, but did not cry out. Grabbing the boots and hopping first on one foot and then the other, he managed to pull them on. With one last bewildered stare in my direction, he opened the door and stumbled forth.
I was in such shock that all I could do was sink under the sheet, suddenly aware that I had been grasping the quilt up to my neck even though my nightgown was sufficiently modest. As I slid back into the warmth of the bed, I felt the heat on the sheets underneath the counterpane where he had lain beside me. I was angry. More than that, I was furious. How dare he invade my bed! And yet, I had to admit that I had slept more soundly that night than I could remember and I was quite disconcerted when I found myself absently running my hand and arm up and down the sheet, enjoying the warmth he had left behind. I ceased such action immediately.
Had Darcy taken advantage of me in the night? I knew little of such things, but surely he could not have done so and remained fully clothed and outside the bedcovers. And no matter how well I slept, I knew it would have been impossible to sleep through such an encounter with that man.
By noon, we were on our way to London. The river had receded and although the road was still a muddy lot, our horses were able to pull the carriage through the ruts. I had not seen Darcy until he joined me in the carriage, having kept to my room all morning. How he shaved and cleaned up, I know not, but here he was looking the impeccable gentleman, except for the tired look about his eyes. His clothes were not rumpled nor even smelled of liquor, although I felt certain they were the clothes he had slept in. He must have an invaluable valet in service. I trust he pays him well if he can work such a miracle.
We said nothing to each other. I did not even grant him the courtesy of a greeting; instead, I turned my face to the window. No, I turned my entire body to the window and busied myself with intense perusal of the passing trees, shrubs and farmland. We rode no little distance in this fashion, when suddenly he cleared his throat and I jumped.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "I did not mean to startle you." When I said nothing, he went on. "Miss Ben . . . that is, Eliz . . ." He stopped and blinked as though he were in search of something. "I do not seem to know how to address you. You are no longer Miss Bennet and I fear you do not wish to be called Mrs. Darcy. May I call you Elizabeth?"
I worked hard not to smile at his discomfiture. "It is your choice, sir, as long as you do not take advantage of using such address as licence to act more familiar with me."
He closed his eyes as though I had struck him. "I would not think of it. But I must be allowed to apologize for my behaviour last evening."
I nodded oh, so slightly.
"I do not remember last night. I confess I imbibed far too generously of the innkeeper's ale. How I came to be in your bed, Elizabeth, I am sorry to say, is not possible for me to recall."
"Is this generous intake of alcohol a part of your general nature, sir? If it is, you should have told me, for I have no intention of living with an intemperate man."
"Absolutely not!" He spoke forcefully and leaned forward, a pained expression across his face, as he put his hand to his forehead. "I promise you that I do not make a habit of such behaviour."
We said no more for several miles. I returned my attention to the window, but from the corner of my eye, I could see that his headache was severe. Again and again he closed his eyes to the glare of the outdoors. I was glad to see him suffer. His behaviour deserved such punishment. I congratulated myself on feeling no wifely sympathies until I remembered the headache that frequently put me to bed. One did not have to be a loving wife to feel compassion.
"Mr. Darcy, would you prefer the shades to be lowered, to shield your eyes from the light?"
Surprise covered his countenance at my suggestion. "Do you not wish to observe the scenery?"
"I do, but I am not suffering a headache."
"Thank you," he said, reaching up to release the dark shade over his window. I did the same and was astonished at the sudden feeling of closeness within the coach with the absence of light. An intimacy enveloped us that made me quite self-conscious. I wondered if he felt it, as well. Now I had nowhere to look but at my lap or straight ahead, and then it would appear that I was looking at him. Perhaps compassion had been a mistake.
But had Mr. Darcy not shown compassion in marrying me? Why did he marry me? I remained unsure of the reason and feared that I should do so for some time. His first proposal had been so uncivil and arrogant that I had heard little argument for marriage and much against. He openly acknowledged the unsuitability of my family and connections in comparison to his and yet he still asked for my hand. I could see him standing in Mr. Collins' parlor at Hunsford, insulting in his manner and words. What had been his reason for marriage? Something about "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
I had dismissed his words of love as foolishness because his rudeness had so infuriated me. How could he profess love and treat me as he had?
And the second proposal six months later could hardly be called that. Arrangement would be a better word. How shocked I had been the day he entered my mother's house at Longbourn with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. I can still hear my mother's cry at seeing her brother.
"Oh, Edward, Edward! You are here at last. Whatever are we to do?"
"There, there, Fanny," he soothed. "Ease yourself, sister. I come with good news."
"Good news?" Mamma cried. "You have found hidden funds belonging to Mr. Bennet? We are not to be turned out from Longbourn next week?"
"Not hidden funds, but something better," Mr. Gardiner said, looking to Mr. Darcy. Mamma looked at him and sniffed as she usually did in his presence. She had not even acknowledged him prior to my uncle's words for she disliked him intensely since we had first met a year ago at an assembly ball in Meryton. That is when the entire community first became acquainted with his arrogant manners. He slighted me when she practically invited him to dance with me, and the one thing my mother would never forgive was a man's refusal to dance with one of her five daughters. Now, she slowly led my aunt and uncle and Mr. Darcy into my father's study, closing the door behind them.
Jane and I were bewildered, as were Mary and Kitty. What could Mr. Darcy have to do with our mother? And could we trust her to keep a civil tongue in his presence? How much better it would have been if Jane or I had been allowed to be in on the meeting.
"Why is he here?" I asked, "And how did he come to know our uncle?"
"They met this summer," Jane replied, "when Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner traveled to Derbyshire."
"Oh, yes, the trip on which I was supposed to accompany them."
I had not gone, of course, because of Father's death, for I was now no longer free to go on pleasure trips. Mamma was of no use to anyone, totally dependent upon Jane and I and besides that, we were scrambling to find a means by which to support our family. We knew that our mother's profligate ways would soon exhaust her small fortune and although we would not be paupers, our manner of living must be severely reduced. We both sent out inquiries for governess positions and I spent May and June searching for a reasonable cottage in which to move our family. I regretted giving up that trip with the Gardiners. We were to tour the Lakes and see some of the grand houses in the north country.
"But how, Jane? How could they have come into Mr. Darcy's company?"
"His estate is in Derbyshire, Lizzy, surely you remember that. Aunt Gardiner wrote Mamma that they had come upon him unexpectedly while touring his great house at Pemberley. They had been told he was away from home, but he returned earlier than expected. Our aunt wrote a very pleasing account of his manners in her letter, much different than what we experienced. She said that once he knew of their connection to our family, he overwhelmed them with invitations and civility."
I snorted at the very idea. Jane admonished me, "Lizzy, what a noise! You sound like Lydia!"
I blanched at the thought of being compared to my youngest sister, my wild, irresponsible child of a sister who had only added to our woes in the middle of the summer by running off with a blackguard in the militia, a Mr. Wickham. I am embarrassed to say that when I first met the man some seven or eight months earlier, I, too, thought him an amiable, pleasing man. Instead, he turned out to be a cad who preyed on young women of fortune, having even tried his lot with Mr. Darcy's 15-year-old sister, Georgiana. Of course, I did not know the truth of his character until after my meeting with Mr. Darcy at Hunsford. The morning after his first proposal, he gave me a letter outlining his relationship with Mr. Wickham, a far different tale than the one Mr. Wickham had painted. It seems that Mr. Darcy had not cheated Mr. Wickham out of his inheritance, as the latter had told far and wide, but rather that Mr. Wickham had refused the living (a curacy in Kympton) in exchange for the sum of 3,000 pounds. He later attempted an unsuccessful elopement with Georgiana, a fact that was shocking to hear and I am certain painful for Mr. Darcy to relate. How I regretted not having warned my own sister about his character before she, too, fell prey to his charms. I fear that if my Uncle Gardiner had not paid out vast sums to Mr. Wickham, he would not have married her, but left her a ruined woman deserted in London.
For that very reason, our uncle could be of little financial assistance to us, not after he had been so generous with Lydia. We knew that he had given us more than we could ever repay. Our mother, of course, expected him to rescue us, but Jane and I accepted the fact that it was impossible and we would not allow her to beg him for more. That is why Jane had taken a governess position in August. I, too, sought such a position, but someone had to stay at home and help Mamma and my younger sisters move into new quarters. I had at last found a cottage in Surrey and we were packing to move before Michaelmas when this strange arrival of my relatives and Mr. Darcy occurred without warning.
"Lizzy," Jane said, "perhaps Mr. Darcy has heard of our search for governess positions and he comes with an offer."
"I think not," I replied. "Mr. Darcy's sister is well past governess age. She now has a companion and will soon be out in society."
"Well, if he does want a governess, I shall go. I know how much you dislike him and I do not feel as strongly. Besides, since I failed so miserably at my first post, I should try doubly hard if I am offered another chance."
"Oh, Jane," I cried, "do not talk so. You did not fail and we all know it." Kitty and Mary quickly agreed with me. Our oldest sister had chosen the worst possible house in Lancashire in which to be a governess. Even though the master was an earl, he had a lecherous eye, and Jane had not been in residence a week, before he invited her to sit on his lap and help him with his figures. When she refused, he persisted with greater advances. Only last week she had returned home, her beautiful eyes filled with tears, ashamed to admit she could not bear the situation. She even tortured herself that somehow she might have caused the earl's aggression.
"Perhaps he thought I was flirting," she said.
"Jane!" Mamma and I cried in unison. "Never! Not you!"
I was so angry I wanted to throttle the man, but that would have only cast me into prison and deprived my family of what little I could earn. After I calmed down, Jane and I once again submitted letters seeking positions and I was determined this time to go with Jane and check out her employer before I left her without recourse.
Now, neither we nor any of our sisters would be forced to work. That had been the argument that finally convinced me to enter into the arrangement I now found myself. About an hour after Mamma and our guests had entered Papa's study, she opened the door and motioned for me to come in. Her eyes were aglow and she positively beamed. I had not seen her thus since before my father's death. Actually, I had seen that look before - the day my cousin, Mr. Collins, proposed to me, a match she was highly in favour of and which I refused - but it did not occur to me at the time.
I entered the room and saw Mr. Darcy standing by the window, his tall stature outlined by the reflection of the light behind him. He did not smile, only stared at me, his expression unreadable. My aunt and uncle did smile, as though they were encouraging me to come in with an accepting manner.
"Lizzy, your uncle has something to say to you," Mamma said, pushing me forward with a slight movement.
He cleared his throat and asked me to sit, but as everyone else was standing, I declined. "Lizzy, Mr. Darcy here came to me two days ago with an arrangement that will help your family exceedingly."
"Oh, yes," Mamma said, "most exceedingly."
I glanced at him, but he was looking at the floor for a change. "What is it?" I asked.
My uncle looked to Mr. Darcy. "Should you prefer to ask my niece, sir?"
"No. It will probably have more chance of success coming from you, sir."
Well, I thought, that is the truest statement you have ever made. It was evident he had not forgotten our last parting. I had scarce thought of the man since I had last seen him in Rosings Park. Oh, I had read his letter and at the time found myself much chagrined at how I had misjudged him by heeding Wickham's false tales, but his letter did little to curry my favour when I read his defense of participating in the separation of Mr. Bingley from my sister, Jane. And then my father's death shortly thereafter had caused my life to evolve into a downward spiral of duties and worry, and so circumstances had caused me to dismiss any further consideration of Mr. Darcy or his letter until this very day when his presence filled my father's library at Longbourn.
"Uncle, please tell me what it is."
"Mr. Darcy comes to Longbourn, my dear, to ask for your hand in marriage."
That is when I sat down. Quickly. I felt as though I had been struck. How could he possibly still wish to marry me? I could not grasp the idea after all the harsh words that had passed between us. The shock of such a request caused me to temporarily block the remainder of my uncle's statement. I had to ask him to repeat it and that is when my mother broke in with great impatience.
"Oh, Lizzy, are you not listening? Mr. Darcy wants to marry you! Mr. Darcy! Just think of it. Our problems are over! And he not only will marry you, but he has arranged with Mr. Collins for our family to remain at Longbourn for as long as we need to, for life!"
I turned in amazement to look at him again. "How can you do that, sir? The estate is entailed upon my cousin."
He did not have a chance to speak, because Mamma took over once again. "A man of Mr. Darcy's resources can do anything. Mr. Collins is only too willing to forego possession of Longbourn for the remuneration offered, although he does still technically own the estate, I guess. Is that not correct, brother?"
My uncle nodded. "Yes, Mr. Collins has agreed to rent Longbourn to your mother, Lizzy, and Mr. Darcy is willing to pay the rental for as long as your family lives here. In addition, he is willing to settle a very generous monthly stipend on your mother and establish dowries for your sisters."
Mamma then began to enthuse prodigiously on the benefits of such a transaction, how she nor my sisters would have to move to that horrible little cottage in Surry where her daughters would have had absolutely no opportunity to meet suitable young men of fortune (never mind the fact that Lydia's scandal had already prohibited such occurrence), how she could keep her carriage, her servants, and her place in Hertfordshire society. She went on and on while I sat there, completely baffled.
At last, my aunt came and sat beside me. Taking my hand, she said, "What say you, Lizzy? Are you up for this marriage?"
I struggled to control my breathing and keep my lip from trembling. "How can you ask me that, Aunt? And you, Mamma? All of you? Am I nothing more to you than a bargaining piece? Do I not have a say in all of this?"
"Of course you do, my dear," my aunt replied.
"Lizzy, these kind of arrangements are made all the time," my uncle added. "This is a most fortunate offer, especially since your father is gone."
"If my father was here, he would not push me into such an arrangement! Mr. Darcy is well aware that I do not wish to marry him. He proposed to me six months ago and I refused him then and I refuse him today."
"Lizzy!" Mamma cried, sinking down on the chaise and vigorously fanning herself with her handkerchief. "Do you mean to say that you refused such a man at Hunsford? That we could have been free of worry all these months except for your selfish nature?"
"I do not think I am selfish, Mamma," I pleaded. "I am willing to work to support you. I have searched everywhere for suitable housing that we can afford. I will do anything, but do not ask me to marry where I have no desire to do so."
"I knew it!" Mamma screamed. "I knew she would not do it. She has always been headstrong, stubborn - her father coddled her, you know - I knew she would let me down again! Mr. Darcy, I have three more daughters, the eldest much prettier than Lizzy and she possesses a much more compliant nature. Will you not take one of them?"
"Mamma!" I cried, unable to believe what I heard.
Mr. Darcy spoke then. "Mr. Gardiner, might I be afforded time alone with Miss Bennet?"
"Oh, yes, that is what you need," Mamma cried, "time to plead your case. Come, brother, come Madeline, let them talk alone."
"Mamma," I said, "there is no need for you to leave. I shall not change my mind."
"You will stay and hear Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth! You can do at least that much for me. I insist upon it!"
Seeing the look on my mother's face, I knew argument was futile. I watched the members of my family leave the room, closing the door behind them.
A good five minutes passed wherein neither of us said a word. I had stood when the others left the room; now I sat, waiting. He turned and looked out the window for what seemed like forever and then he walked behind my father's desk and picked up some papers and then put them back down. The man was slower than waking Kitty in the mornings! At last, I could stand it no longer.
"Mr. Darcy, do you have anything to say? If not, I shall ask you to refrain from wasting my time."
He looked up then and silenced me with that look. I cannot describe it, but the certainty crossed my mind that one could push this man so far and no farther. I closed my mouth and waited. He took the papers, walked around the desk and sat in the chair next to me.
"Miss Bennet, this marriage contract is the only way to save your family from suffering a great disadvantage both economically and socially. If you would look at the figures, I think you will see that I am prepared to provide generously for all three of your sisters, as well as your mother."
"I do not need to look at numbers, sir. I need an answer. Why are you doing this? Why do you want to marry me?"
"You have no other options. You and your sisters can attract no men of fortune; your youngest sister's unfortunate escapade will essentially bar all of you from the best of society."
I groaned silently to think he knew of Lydia's marriage. I forgot how fast such news traveled. Mr. Collins must have told Mr. Darcy's aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. What great delight she would have experienced in relaying such gossip, for she gloried in her superiority.
"I would think, sir, that Lydia's marriage would certainly bar you from the slightest consideration of making any connection with our family. Do not forget that if you do, Mr. Wickham shall be your brother-in-law."
He winced at my words, but he did not back down. "Mr. Wickham shall never, of course, be permitted to visit Pemberley or my house in London, but your sister is welcome, as is the rest of your family."
"You say I have no other options, but you are wrong, Mr. Darcy. As soon as I see my mother and sisters settled in their new place, I shall secure a position as governess, as will Jane. We thank you for your offer, but we are quite able to provide for ourselves and our family."
"Are you? Come now, Miss Bennet. Governesses make very little, hardly enough to keep themselves clothed. There will be precious little to spare to send home to your family and, knowing the habits of your mother, frugality is not in her nature. Besides that, Miss Bennet is far too fine for the governess trade . . . as are you."
I could think of nothing to say for a few moments. I had never had a head for numbers and I feared he was right about governess salaries. Still, how could I enter into such a marriage?
"Miss Bennet, as you know, I have a younger sister who is in need of someone like you. Since the . . . mistreatment by Wickham, which we never speak of and which I insist shall not be mentioned to her, she is withdrawn and melancholy. It has been more than a year and still she is timid and shy of everything and everyone."
"Could not Jane or I be employed as her companion, then?" I asked.
"You could, although she has a fine companion in Mrs. Annesley, but I want someone permanent in her life, someone full of wit and vitality, able to tease and enjoy life, as you do. Georgiana needs a sister."
"And so you would ask me to marry you just to give your sister an outgoing companion? Really, Mr. Darcy, I find that hard to believe. No one is that unselfish when it comes to family members."
He bristled at my remarks. I could see a cold anger descend upon his countenance. "Perhaps you are not that unselfish, but I take my family responsibilities seriously."
"So now you agree with my mother and say that I am selfish because I shall not sell myself to you! Mr. Darcy, there are many other women with wit and vitality and love of life whom you could marry and who could assist your sister. Why must it be me? Why do you want to marry me?"
He stood now and walked to the window and back. "I have my reasons, Miss Bennet."
"And they are?"
"My reasons."
When he could see that I was not impressed with his lack of candor, he went on to tell me expressly what he would require: how I was to act as though we were perfectly amiable in public, I was to serve as hostess and mistress of his houses, but that he would not impose upon me privately until I was ready. That is when I turned on him like a cat and he answered with like anger (which conversation I have related earlier), and I stood, ready to flee the room when he stopped me.
Catching my hand, he said, "Miss Bennet, do not refuse me today. You have much to think about. Consider it overnight at least and give me your answer on the morrow. If your answer remains in the negative, it will silence me on this subject forever."
My first thought was to cry, "No, a thousand times no!" at him, but something about his eyes, the look in them, a sort of softness I had never seen before, caused me to reluctantly agree to sleep on my decision. The relief on his face at my answer almost made me ashamed and when he released my hand, I could still feel its warmth.
That night I was so weary I thought I might crumble into a million tiny pieces. Mamma had lectured me for what seemed like hours; my uncle and aunt both took me aside privately to persuade me of how beneficial this match would be to all concerned; and at length, even Jane entreated me to consider its benefits. That was what broke me - the look in Jane's eyes. What she had endured during her brief sojourn in Lancashire had scarred her. She truly was afraid for either of us to go into service.
"Lizzy," she said, "I wish I was the one Mr. Darcy wanted. I would go in your place if I could."
"How can you say that, Jane, when in your heart you know it is Mr. Bingley that you love? How could you give yourself to another?"
She stopped plaiting her hair then, and looked away for a moment. It was after midnight and we sat on my bed, spending our last waking moments of the day sharing confidences as we had done almost every night since childhood. "Mr. Bingley does not love me, Lizzy. I have accepted that and I have determined to be practical from now on. I shall marry the first kind, respectable man who asks me. I am no longer looking for a love match."
"But, Jane! I know love is what you desire."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Not with any other man, Lizzy. I shall love Mr. Bingley the rest of my life."
"Oh, Jane," I cried, pulling her close and kissing her hair. And that is what made me do it. I knew that Mr. Bingley still loved Jane, in spite of his apparent disinterestedness. I felt certain that he had ceased his attentions to her only because of the influence of his sisters and Mr. Darcy. I had no power over Mr. Bingley's sisters, but I could make it a condition of marriage that Mr. Darcy right the wrong he had committed upon my sister. At least one of us should be happy in marriage.
The next morning my bed looked like the remains of a wrestler's match, but I was resigned to my fate. Mr. Darcy, surprisingly, did not object to my regulation and even asked if I wanted it to be added to the marriage contract. Although I believed that he would do it without such, I asked for it in writing, perhaps because I wished him to know with whom he was striking a bargain - not some gullible twit of a girl, but a woman of understanding who would not be taken advantage of.
So, one might say that I had married out of purely altruistic reasons, putting the welfare of my family before my own pleasure. Way down deep within, though, and even hidden at the time from my own acknowledgement, there was another reason for this marriage, a reason I was not yet able to put into words, to envision, or admit to myself. Something in me wanted to know Mr. Darcy in his entirety, to put to rest my curiosity excited by his intriguing masculinity. I wanted to understand why my senses quickened in his presence, why I felt every part of life more keenly around him, and what it was that made him want to marry me.
"Elizabeth," Darcy said, shocking me back to the reality of our journey, "I do not want Georgiana to know the truth of our physical arrangement. I trust that you will honour our contract with discretion."
"Mr. Darcy, if the truth of our physical arrangement were the opposite, do you think that I would be so indiscreet as to share such knowledge with your sister or any other member of your family?" I replied, insulted that he should think I needed such cautioning.
"I should hope not, but seeing that you have been reared in circumstances quite different from mine, I shall from time to time admonish you with these warnings just in case."
Oh, the man was an absolute churl! Could he insult my family to any greater degree? Did he think I was a child? With a quick flick of my wrist, I reached over and jerked up the shade on my window. May your head burst, Mr. Darcy!
Chapter 3
We arrived at Mr. Darcy's townhouse in London by mid-afternoon. The city's parade of sights and sounds entertained me from the moment we first reached the outskirts. I had not been in town for some time and the intensity of the noise, odors, confusion and general uproar were a welcoming diversion to the silence that had ensued during the past hour and a half of our carriage ride.
I was not surprised at the stately grandeur of the house, for the Gardiners had described the richness of Mr. Darcy's estate in Derbyshire; I expected no less in London. I was relieved to see, upon entering the house that it was tastefully furnished, quietly elegant, without need to impress. Although I did not pretend to know him well, his house reflected the man I thought him to be - a gentleman long used to the best in life, with no posturing or affected manner, a certain taking for granted that this was how life was to be. I assumed it had always been that way for him and now it was to be my way of life. That would take some getting used to.
In the foyer the butler, Adams, and the housekeeper, Mrs. James, met us. If they were surprised to see a new mistress, their manners were circumspect and unrevealing. Adams informed us that Miss Georgiana was entertaining callers in the salon and I saw Darcy frown at this news.
"Did not Colonel Fitzwilliam fetch her last night and take her to the Earl of Matlock's residence?"
"No, sir, the colonel just arrived a short while ago and by that time Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley attended Miss Darcy. He has gone above stairs to freshen up before joining them," Adams answered, indicating the direction toward the salon. Darcy groaned and I almost rolled my eyes at the thought of visiting my least favourite people, but I restrained myself.
As he and his butler continued their conversation regarding general news of the household, I ventured a few steps farther so that I might observe the inhabitants of the salon without their seeing me. I wished to have a look at my new sister-in-law before we were thrust upon each other.
I saw a young girl, slender and pale, the opposite in colour to her brother, sitting across from her guests. With what appeared to be great caution and some trepidation, Georgiana Darcy poured tea into china cups for her guests. She seemed uneasy with the practice which surprised me, for I assumed she had served as hostess for her brother numerous times in the past, but the presence of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst could contribute to the discomfiture of even the most accomplished of hostesses. How well I knew that!
"You say that you expected your brother to return last night, Miss Darcy?"
"Yes, Miss Bingley," she answered, extending the cup and saucer with a slightly shaky hand.
"Perhaps the storm caused the delay," Mrs. Hurst offered. "The lightning was quite severe at our townhouse."
"Quite," Caroline Bingley agreed. "The thunder disturbed my slumber several times."
"I feel certain that they spent the night on the road," Georgiana said. "At least I hope they did. I would not have them caught in the rain somewhere without aid."
Caroline laughed. "Oh, you need not worry, my dear. Your brother is well able to take care of himself. He is so strong and capable. I have not the least fear that he could withstand last night's storm with no harm whatsoever."
"Yes, I am sure that Wills could make his way, but with his bride, I . . ."
Caroline snorted and coughed, sloshing her tea into the saucer and quickly placing it on the table. She grabbed frantically for a napkin to mop up the liquid dribbling down her chin. "What did you say, Miss Darcy? I must have misunderstood you!"
"Yes," Mrs. Hurst interjected, casting a horrified glance at her sister, "surely you did not say Mr. Darcy had a bride, my dear, or . . . did you?"
Georgiana nodded. "Yes. My brother was married yesterday at Hertfordshire."
Caroline appeared almost in a swoon, her eyes rolled back in her head in a most unappealing manner. She turned to her sister with a frantic look on her face, and Mrs. Hurst took over the conversation. "He married at Hertfordshire, you say? To . . . uh, anyone we might know?"
"I do not know whether you are acquainted with her. I have never met her."
"And . . . and her name, my dear? Would you happen to know her name?"
"Yes. It is Elizabeth Bennet."
Both of Mr. Bingley's sisters now gasped in unison, Caroline grabbing her chest as though she had been shot. Georgiana's eyes grew quite large as she observed their obvious shock and disbelief. "Do either of you know Miss Bennet?"
"Yes," Mrs. Hurst answered, recovering somewhat, "a little. We met her sister, Jane, when we were last at Netherfield. Her family has a small estate nearby."
"What is she like? My brother has told me little, other than he feels certain I shall like her."
"She is very different from us," Caroline said, having completed her mopping up. "I cannot believe Charles did not tell us of the wedding."
"I do not know if Wills told your brother. It all happened very fast."
"It must have," Mrs. Hurst said, "not to invite us. Mr. Darcy is such an intimate friend of ours." Here, Caroline looked at her rather strangely and her sister explained, "That is, of our brother, and, consequently, of us as well. I know my husband thinks quite highly of him. I truly cannot understand why your brother would not have at least asked Charles to accompany him."
Caroline's eyebrows shot up as though she had just become privy to a shocking idea. "Surely there was no need for a quick wedding, was there, Miss Darcy?" She and Mrs. Hurst both leaned forward in anticipation.
"I . . . I do not know what you mean," Georgiana answered.
Just then Colonel Fitzwilliam walked into the salon from an adjoining door on the far side of the room. Georgiana rose to greet him as he swept into the room, the shine on his boots less than sparkling, and his cloak heavy with moisture. He kissed her hand and smiled, and it seemed to me that he searched her eyes as though he might determine how she was faring.
"Richard! I am so glad to see you!"
"My sweet Georgie. You must excuse my appearance. I have been riding since dawn through mud thicker than plum pudding. Ah, I see you have guests and here I am intruding."
"No, not at all," Georgiana murmured. "You remember Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. They are Mr. Bingley's sisters."
The colonel bowed to each of the ladies. "Yes, of course. I believe we have met once before."
"We did," Mrs. Hurst agreed, "at Lord Dalrymple's ball last winter."
"Yes, how could I forget? As I recall, your brother was sick with love for some young thing and my cousin and the two of you worked together all evening attempting to convince him to forget her by introducing him to every eligible young woman at the dance. What was it Darcy kept saying? 'There are some very strong objections against the lady, Bingley. Surely, you can do much better.' Yes, that was it. I think he felt quite pleased with himself when he succeeded in thwarting Mr. Bingley's plans."
I felt a flush creeping up my neck to my cheeks and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out, "You are talking about my sister!" Fortunately, I restrained myself and looking back to see Darcy still in earnest discussion with the servants, I moved a little closer to the room so that I might have a better view.
Georgiana offered the colonel a cup of tea, which he busied himself with, spending much time in adding sugar and cream and stirring the cup with more effort than it seemed to need. Caroline watched him intently. I suspected that she was about to shower him with questions of my marriage and I was soon proven correct.
"Colonel, we have just heard the most surprising news. Miss Darcy has told us that her brother was married yesterday and to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Can this be true?"
"Ah, yes, most definitely. I, myself, stood up with Darcy and he performed his vows most admirably."
"But this is so sudden. We had not even heard that they were engaged," Mrs. Hurst said.
"I believe it was a very short betrothal, or at least a rather private one. You may not have heard that Miss Bennet's father passed away some six months ago. That may be why they elected to have a quiet wedding. There was no one in attendance but family."
Mrs. Hurst said nothing and continued to sip her tea. Caroline sank back against the cushioned settee, her face falling like a pillow robbed of its feathers. Conversation lagged from then on until Georgiana asked that her cousin provide them with more details of the event. There was not that much to tell, he admitted. The wedding had been brief, the wedding breakfast almost as much so, and the couple had left in a heavy downpour. Darcy had requested that he return to London immediately and take Georgiana to his parents' estate just outside of town. Fitzwilliam had been delayed by the storm and had, at last, taken refuge in a small inn, and then rose at daybreak to reach London before the newly married couple. Since he had traveled by a different route than Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, he assumed they had also spent the night on the road and would arrive soon.
Just then Darcy startled me by clearing his throat. My eavesdropping must have been apparent, but he did not censure me for it, rather indicated the way to the salon and we proceeded therein. Georgiana rose, a picture of surprise on her countenance that turned to pleasure I assumed at the recognition of her brother, for she rushed to his side.
"Mr. Darcy!" Miss Bingley crowed, her eyes alight at his presence, but then narrowing at the sight of me.
"And Miss Bennet," Mrs. Hurst cooed, "we have just heard the news."
We all spoke in acknowledgement and then Darcy introduced me to Georgiana. We bowed to each other and I searched for something credible to say. "I am very glad to make your acquaintance."
"And I, yours," she replied. "I have heard much of you."
That was another time I could have rolled my eyes, but did not. "I hope you will not hold whatever information you have heard against me, for I know your brother is my severest critic."
"Oh, no," she said. "My brother has not spoken ill of you, but rather praised you. He said you play and sing beautifully."
"I fear he has exaggerated, needless to say for some mischievous reason known only to him."
"My brother never exaggerates. He always tells the absolute truth." There was no mistaking the love and regard in which she held him.
I did not know what to say, so I changed the subject. "I understand that you love music and play very well."
"She does," Mrs. Hurst cut in. "My brother says he has never heard anyone play with such spirit as Miss Darcy. Perhaps we may all have opportunity to hear her during your stay in town. But you must tell us of your wedding! Colonel Fitzwilliam has just this very moment informed us of the event." She continued to utter silly, meaningless phrases that I knew to be untrue and then said, "How delightful and yet shocking, Mr. Darcy! When did this happen and how could you have kept it from us? Does Charles know?"
Before he could reply, she went on, "And where did you marry? Surely, you did not whisk her off to Gretna Green, sir!" How could she ask that when I had just overheard Colonel Fitzwilliam tell them we were married in Hertfordshire?
"Louisa!" Caroline cried. "How can you even suggest such a thing? Mr. Darcy would never consent to an elopement, even if Miss Bennet would."
I was seething by that time. "We did not elope. Why ever would you suggest that I should do so?"
"Well," Caroline said, smiling but not really smiling as only she could do, "we heard news of your youngest sister and Mr. Wickham. Did they not run off to Scotland to marry this past summer?"
I felt Darcy stiffen - I did not even have to look at him - and I heard Georgiana's quick intake of breath. What surprised me was the look of ferocity that descended upon Colonel Fitzwilliam's countenance. Darcy had told me to look to the colonel for verification of his account of Wickham's misdeeds with Georgiana, but I had never discussed the matter with him. It was obvious that he shared his cousin's feelings in the matter and was aghast at the impact of Miss Bingley's words on this young girl. Did not this woman have any idea how she was hurting this child? Georgiana sat down on the sofa, her hands trembling. I walked across the room and sat beside my new sister before answering. "You are mistaken, Miss Bingley. Lydia married in London two months ago."
"My, my, how strange this must be for you, Mr. Darcy," Caroline went on.
He strode to his sister's side and stood behind the couch, placing one hand on her shoulder. "In what way?" he replied, his tone deadly.
"Why, you are now brother to the son of your former servant. Shall we look forward to seeing him at Pemberley?"
I could sense Darcy's anger, but before he could speak, Colonel Fitzwilliam came to his rescue. "As much as I would love to continue this visit, I am much in need of returning home, and I would suggest we give Mr. and Mrs. Darcy some time to themselves. Georgiana, Mamma looks forward to your visit. Shall I ask the servant to pack your bag?"
"No," she said quickly, "I shall see to it. If you will excuse me, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst . . . Mrs. Darcy."
"Georgiana," Darcy said, but she escaped the room before he could continue.
Caroline and her sister then rose and made their farewells; they could hardly do otherwise, since the person they had come to visit had just fled from their presence. Mrs. Hurst was effusive in her congratulations and offerings to have us visit at her house in Grosvenor Square, but Caroline did nothing more than nod curtly. Poor Miss Bingley. Her worst nightmare had come true. The man at whom she had literally thrown herself for years was now removed from the marriage market. Little did she know I would have gladly changed places with her.
As soon as the guests had left, Darcy took the stairs two at a time, heading for his sister's room, I presumed. That left the colonel and I alone together. We had never been at a disadvantage for conversation, but neither of us said much of anything. We spoke of the weather again and of how tedious our journeys had been, but little else. I wondered if Darcy had confided in his cousin, had told him of our marriage arrangement, or whether he sensed innately that all was not right between us. I remembered how he had looked upon me at the wedding with an expression of sympathy. I did not want his sympathy. The last thing I desired was pity. I had made this decision to marry and for my own reasons. I would not be the object of anyone's commiseration. Perhaps that is why I acted as I did when we heard Darcy and Georgiana descend the stairs together. Fitzwilliam left to join them but I lagged behind, remaining in the salon, although I did move toward the door where I could see the three of them talking together.
Georgiana had forgotten a favourite book and instead of calling a servant, Darcy ran up the stairs to retrieve it. I could just make out the conversation between Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"No, Georgie," he said, "It is Darcy's wish that you stay with my parents for at least two weeks and Mother is looking forward to your visit. You have always been her favourite, you know, even though I have no idea why." The last words were said in a teasing manner and it was obvious that he was fond of her.
"But Richard, how will it look to Mrs. Darcy with me running off like this? She will think I do not like her."
"Little one, you are talking about a newly married couple. They are thinking of no one other than each other right now. She will have plenty of time later to acquaint herself with you. For now, let them have their honeymoon."
Georgiana blushed and ducked her head. "Oh, Richard, you must think me a silly goose."
"No, just an innocent one." He smiled and lifted her chin with his forefinger. "Do not turn your head away from me, little cousin. You are much too pretty to hide your face."
"I pray you do not tease me. You know that I am not innocent . . . just stupid." She turned away from him and appeared adamant in her refusal to face him, but he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around.
"I do not want to ever hear you say that again, Georgiana. Nothing could be farther from the truth."
"But Richard, after what happened last year . . ."
"That is behind you now, my dear. Far, far behind you." He gathered her into his arms and cradled her head against his chest, smoothing her blonde curls as he held her close. "If only you could forget that it ever happened."
"If only it had never happened," she said.
He held her for some time and finally she lifted her face. "Do not be concerned, Richard. Truly, I shall be all right." When she offered him a tentative smile, Fitzwilliam's face broke into a relieved grin and I felt almost embarrassed to be privy to their conversation. There was an intimacy there I knew nothing about and I wondered if Darcy did. For some reason I felt almost envious. How pleasant it would be to have a protector like Colonel Fitzwilliam, to have someone who cared as much for me.
At the sound of Darcy descending the stairs, they looked up; I decided to make my presence known and so I joined them. I'm still not sure why I did it, but I tucked my hand into Darcy's arm as though we were married in all respects. I felt him stiffen and imagined his surprise, but I did not even glance in his direction; instead, I gave my warmest smile to his sister.
"I look forward to your return, Georgiana. I hope we shall become good friends."
She curtseyed in reply, but did not echo my sentiment. I could see the wary expression in her eyes and after she and the colonel departed, I felt a great weariness descend upon me. The situation was not going to be easy. This young girl would not welcome me with any degree of warmth. How could she after learning that I was sister-in-law to Wickham?
"You may stop the pretense now, Elizabeth," Darcy said, straightening his arm.
I withdrew my hand with all haste, bristling at his cold tone. Did my touch fill him with such distaste that he must rid himself of it at the first chance? Fine. I had no desire to ever touch him again. If he did not appreciate my efforts at presenting the picture of domestic happiness, then I would be all too glad to oblige him. "I am very tired, Mr. Darcy. Will you call a servant to show me to my apartment?"
"There is no need. I shall take you there. I planned on giving you a tour of the house, but we can defer that until tomorrow."
He indicated that I should climb the wide staircase and I noted the rich gleam of the highly polished balustrade. It was made of the finest mahogany and the intricately curved spindles complemented the dark wine carpet on the stairs. No wonder he had objected to the rough inn we had been forced to stay in the night before. When a man was accustomed to such splendor, it must be hard to adjust to less. Upon reaching the second floor, he led me down the wide hallway to the second door on the left. Inside was a beautiful spacious bedroom, artfully decorated in blues and greens. I was happy to see it contained four narrow, floor-to-ceiling windows facing the east so that I would awaken to the warmth of the sun. They opened upon a small, verdant garden. The trees were turning red and gold and the hawthorn shrubs sprouted the beginnings of red berries. This spot had been designed to please the eye in all seasons with various plantings of flowering bushes.
"This shall be your room," Darcy said. "Your maid has already unpacked for you, but if you desire anything further, do not hesitate to ring for her. Dinner is usually served around 8:30, so there should be time for you to rest before then." With a slight bow, he walked out the door, closing it behind him.
I spent no little time exploring the room, peeking into the armoires, for there were two, opening drawers, seeing that they were already filled with my belongings and noting how little space my nightgowns and underclothes occupied. There was ample room for a much better dressed woman than I to occupy these quarters. I sat on the sofa before the fireplace and leaned against its cushy pillows. From there I moved to the large four-poster bed and was pleased to feel its comforting depth - neither too soft nor too hard, but just right. Well, should I expect less from a man of Mr. Darcy's means?
On the north wall there was a small writing desk containing two pots of ink, quills and a box of the finest stationery; beside it a door opened to a combination dressing room/bath. I had never before enjoyed the luxury of my own bath and I inspected it with great thoroughness, anticipating the pleasure of a long soak.
On the south wall, I fingered the small china dogs nestled beneath a vase of autumn's last roses sitting on the bureau. Next to it I saw another large door hooded with ornate cream-coloured molding, which continued around the room, crowned the walls and separated them from the high ceiling. I wondered what further personal extravagance awaited me on the other side and so I promptly turned the brass doorknob.
What astonishment I felt at the sight before me! This was another completely furnished chamber, as warm and inviting as mine, but in a decidedly darker fashion. Rich chocolate colours mixed with smoky greens covered the walls, furniture, and linens. At first, I drew back, afraid that I had stumbled into someone's bedroom, but since there was an adjoining door between mine and this one I dismissed that idea, believing, instead, that perhaps this was a sort of study or personal library for my use, for two walls were lined with bookshelves filled to capacity. I saw another desk, larger than the first and complete with even more writing materials. I delighted in it, anticipating writing to Jane that very night. The only strange thing about the room was that it contained another bed, a great handsome bed made up with warmth and taste.
"What need shall I have for two beds," I wondered aloud, and then thought how perfect it would be for Jane when she came to visit, how we would enjoy the benefit of being next to each other. Yes, that was it - this room must be a combination study for me and guest chamber for my most intimate friends. My, I thought, the very rich certainly do have advantages I have never dreamed of. However, at that very moment the door from this room to the hall opened . . . and a completely unexpected answer to my question walked in.
"Madam?" Darcy said, one eyebrow raised in a sardonic expression. "May I presume that you are looking for me, seeing that you have invaded my bedroom?"
I was aghast! "Your bedroom? But . . . but it connects with mine!"
"It does, indeed." A faint smile crossed his countenance - actually more of a smirk than smile.
I whirled around and marched back to my room, slamming the door between us. I turned to reach for the lock, when the door, itself, was snatched from my hands and pulled open by Darcy.
"I am not accustomed to having doors slammed in my face," he said, advancing into the room as I backed away from him.
"And I am not accustomed to such high-handed treatment, sir."
"I fail to comprehend your meaning."
"Why does your room connect to mine? How dare you put me in such a situation?"
"Such a situation? Mrs. Darcy, these two rooms belonged to my parents and after their deaths, I naturally took my father's chamber as master of this house. You are now to preside as mistress; thus, I placed you in the very best suite which, quite obviously, happens to adjoin mine." He enjoyed this; it was evident by the continued smirk on his face.
"Well," I sputtered, "well . . . I shall require a lock on this door. It does possess one, does it not?"
With what appeared to be a deliberate, tedious turning of his head, Darcy looked at the knob and then back at me. "It does not."
"Will you see that one is installed this very night?"
"I will not."
"Mr. Darcy! I protest! You assured me according to the terms of our arrangement that our marriage would be in name only until I wished differently. Are you going back on your word?"
"I am not. That is why you have no need for a lock. I do not open doors where I am not wanted."
"And how can I believe that after your behaviour last night? I want a lock."
"My dear, I have apologized for my actions last night; I shall not do so again. But do heed what I am about to say: If you think a lock will keep me from your room, you are mistaken. When I decide to enter, there is no lock made that will keep me out."
Before I could think of an answer, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Oh, I could not think clearly for the shock of his statement! How could he speak to me so? I gasped for air, pacing the floor 10 minutes or longer. Had his performance last night been an indicator of what was to come? Need I fear a repeat of it tonight? If so, I would leave this house no matter what arrangement I had consented to. I would not live in fear of his coming through that door at any moment. I fumed and muttered to myself; I even cried a little, but when my emotions were spent and my anger subsided, I sank down upon the sofa, clasping my arms together, hugging them close to my body. But still, every time I looked at that door, goosebumps ran up and down my arms. Gradually, I began to realize that it was not fear or even anger causing that reaction, but a sensation I was unable to name, a sensation that made me extremely uncomfortable.
It welled up from somewhere deep within me, spurred by the memory of awakening in Mr. Darcy's arms and with my head upon his chest.