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Chapter 4
Dinner that evening was a strained affair. I was surprised at the intimacy of the dining room when first I entered until Mrs. James explained that since it was just the two of us, Mr. Darcy had ordered our meal to be held in the smaller dining room. Naturally! I should have known he had two dining rooms - did he not have two or more of everything? I tried not to look at him, but it was next to impossible when there was little else on which to place my eyes. The food was delicious, perfect in every detail. The crystal and china gleamed in the candlelight (I know, for I tried mightily to keep my eyes on both for some time) and if I had not been possessed of such a headache, I would have eaten with more appetite. I had thought to decline dinner, begging off with the excuse of my ailment, but then I recalled how servants talk. Hmm, I thought, if they know that Mr. Darcy has a headache and then I complain of one, too, will not such ills so early in a marriage surely alert them to the unhappiness of our arrangement? They would know soon enough - how could they avoid the fact that we slept in separate beds? I knew little of marital intimacies, but it was a well-known fact that husbands and wives shared a bed this early in their marriage.
After dinner Mr. Darcy escorted me into the music room and asked me to play and sing for him. I started to refuse, until he spoke again.
"My headache has not let up. Some soft music might do the trick."
"I shall play, sir, but do not ask me to sing. I am not in the mood."
"As you like," he said and sat down on a sofa opposite the pianoforte.
I chose to play a Beethoven sonata in F minor, feeling his eyes upon me the entire time. Fortunately, the piece required that I watch the keys or music and not meet his look. If I had done so, I felt sure he would have had a critical expression thereon, as I fudged and slurred my way through several of the somber chords. At the end of the song, I looked up and saw that he had leaned his head against the sofa back and closed his eyes. Assuming I had put him to sleep, I rose and attempted to quietly slip out of the room and escape to my bedchamber, but he spoke before I could reach the door.
"Thank you, Elizabeth, that was lovely. Will you have some wine?"
"I thank you, no," I said, seating myself on a small chair. "And I hope you do not intend to imbibe tonight, sir. You said in the carriage that you were not in the habit of consuming much strong drink."
He smiled slightly. "Do not fear a repeat of last evening. Even if I wanted to drink, my headache prevents it."
We sat quietly for some time, neither of us even attempting to converse. I may as well get used to this silence, I thought. At last he rose and walked to the window, pushed aside the heavy drapery and looked out. "I see that the rain has returned," he said.
"Then I shall sleep well. The sound of raindrops against the window has always soothed me."
"Except for last night."
"Yes," I replied, somewhat disconcerted that he should speak of it again. "But even with the storm, I did sleep well."
"Did you?" he asked, turning to look upon me with an expression in his eyes that made me feel suddenly weak, almost trembling. I could do nothing but nod slightly and avert my gaze. What was wrong with me? Why should his gaze affect me so? He walked toward me and held out his hand. "Shall we retire early tonight?"
I am sure the width of my eyes caused him to realize my discomfort at such a proposal.
"I meant no untoward suggestion, Elizabeth. I have a headache. I am tired. And I assume the day has been long for you as well. Shall we proceed above stairs, you to your chamber and I to mine?"
"Actually, sir, I would beg leave to select a book from your library before I turn in."
"Of course. I shall show you the way."
"There is no need. I can summon a servant for instructions."
The coolness of my tone must have succeeded in discouraging him, for he bowed slightly and with a simple, "Good-night, then," he strode up the stairs, after having summoned the butler to lead me into the large, well-endowed library. I took great delight in canvassing the room, as I explored the volumes upon volumes of books. I took my time in doing so, not merely for the pleasure it afforded me, but also to insure that Mr. Darcy would be safely ensconced in his bedchamber by the time I retired to mine.
At last I chose a new novel and hurried up the staircase. Closing the door once I reached my room and holding my breath, I leaned against it, listening for any sound of footsteps. When I heard none, I ventured into the room and noted the warmth of the fire already laid and waiting for me. I spread my hands before it and then, completely unbidden, my eyes could not help but travel to the door between my suite and that of Mr. Darcy. I felt quite unnerved that we should sleep with only a wall between us. Suddenly I heard footsteps behind me and turned, covering my mouth to stifle a gasp.
"Ma'am?" a young maid asked, walking through the doorway from my dressing room. "I did not mean to startle you. I am Fiona. Does Madam require a bath tonight?"
"Fiona," I said, so relieved I had to sit down on the sofa. "I would. I would, indeed. A bath would be the very thing to wash away the weariness of the road."
"I shall attend to it immediately, Ma'am," she said, but instead of returning to the dressing room, she opened the door to the hallway.
"Fiona? Where are you going?"
She blushed and then stammered, "To inform Master Darcy's valet that you will require additional time before . . . you are . . . ready."
"Ready? I do not understand."
"For the master's visit, Ma'am," she said softly, obviously embarrassed to meet my eyes.
I closed mine, amazed at my stupidity. Of course, she and Darcy's servant expected us to spend the night together. I must adjust to this. I was married and I must act as a married woman at least until the servants realize we do not sleep together. "There is no need," I said. "Mr. Darcy has . . . tasks awaiting him. There will be adequate time for my bath before his . . . visit."
She nodded and returned to the dressing room, readying the tub with steaming hot water. I proceeded to the dressing table and began to unpin my hair. How luxurious it felt to have her brush it and then pin it up loosely, just enough to keep it from getting wet. She helped me to disrobe and I sighed with pleasure as I stepped into the warm tub, slipped down into the hot water, and laid my head back against the tub. Fiona had poured some sweet-smelling salts into the water and the incense and heat combined to make me feel at ease at last.
"Oh, I have forgotten the lotions, Ma'am," she said, pulling drawers open while she searched throughout the room. "One moment, please. I shall return with great haste."
"Do not hurry," I said. "I shall soak for a while."
I heard the click of her heels as she left the dressing room and walked through my bedchamber and out into the hall. I could not believe how much I had needed this respite. The worries and cares of the last days seemed to slide off me as I slipped my shoulders under the water. I closed my eyes and, inhaling the pleasing scent, I wiggled my toes and then pulled my leg up and stretched it toward the ceiling, running the washcloth down the calf.
I heard footsteps behind me again and realized that I should allow the maid to wash me, as that was her job, and so I sat up, but when the steps ceased and she did not appear, I turned to look over my shoulder and almost screamed at what I saw - there, just inside the doorway between the dressing room and my bedchamber, stood Mr. Darcy! I was too shocked to say or do anything other than sit there, my mouth agape. He, likewise, appeared quite stunned, but he did not turn and leave immediately as one would have expected. He stood there, silent and staring as though he were transfixed. He opened his mouth as though he might say something, but at last turned and vanished. I heard the door to the hallway close firmly behind him.
I gasped for air, realizing suddenly that I had held my breath the entire time we had stared at each other. What was he doing in my room? Had he not promised to honour my privacy? And to think that he had seen me in my bath! I looked around, realizing that since the doorway was behind me, he had seen nothing more than my exposed back and shoulders, but still . . . we both knew that I was unclothed. Oh, what mortification! How could I ever face him again?
Just then I heard the door to the hall open and I reached for the towel draped across the front of the tub. The sound of voices could be heard, one of them raised, which I recognized as Darcy's. The door then closed and Fiona hurried into the room, carrying the lotion.
"Pardon me, Ma'am," she said, obviously flustered. "I did not mean to be so long."
"Is something wrong, Fiona?"
"Yes, ma'am, it is my little boy. He has a toothache and he cries for me even though Betty tends him. Children always want their mothers when they are sick."
"You have a son?"
"Yes, Ma'am. His name is William, but I call him Willie."
"But how can you be in service with a child to care for?"
"The master . . . he gave me special permission, Ma'am. I know it is unusual, but the master is the kindest of men, although he is quite unhappy with me just now."
"The master? Was that his voice I heard raised in the hall?"
"Yes, ma'am. He came in search of me when he was told that the child was crying and he said I had left the door to your chamber open, for which I beg your pardon most heartily, Ma'am. I pray you do not hold it against me. We are most fortunate that it was only the master who discovered it, are we not?" She smiled and winked at me, as though to say she understood the intimacies of marriage. Well, of course she would; she had a child.
"Yes, quite," I murmured. She then proceeded to wash my back and helped me dry off and get dressed for bed. She rubbed my arms, hands and neck with the lotion and unpinning my hair, she brushed it again, the steaming bath having caused my curls to misbehave in their own wayward manner.
"So, this Betty tends your son while you are working, Fiona? Is that correct?"
"Yes, she is old now, but once she worked in the kitchen at Pemberley as I did."
"Oh, you work at Pemberley also?"
"Not any more. I worked there in the kitchen when I was much younger until . . . until I had Willie. With his birth, the master moved me to London and I trained to be an upstairs maid. The master is so good. He could have banished me when I became with child, but instead, he moved me here and he kept Betty on so that she could help me. Master Darcy is truly the best of men."
"And your husband? Does he work in the house also?"
She blushed and would not meet my eyes. " 'Tis shameful to admit, Ma'am, but I have never been married."
"I see." Now I was embarrassed, but surprised at this news. Why would Mr. Darcy, who prided himself upon his propriety, show kindness to a fallen woman and keep her in his employment - not only keep her employed, but elevate her to ladies' maid?
"I had Willie five years ago, Ma'am, when I was naught but 15 years old. The year before, I left Scotland to live with my uncle and aunt who are in service at Pemberley, and when it happened I had nowhere to go. They are all the family I have left. The master was most understanding. He could not have me remain at Pemberley because of Miss Georgiana. She was so young at the time and he is very protective of her, but he found a place for me here in London. I am most grateful."
"I can see how you would be," I said, rising. "Go back to your child, now. I do not need anything else this evening." One last time she plumped the pillows on the bed she had turned down, and then curtseyed and departed.
I was glad to be alone. Not only did I suffer a headache, but now my thoughts reeled with what had happened earlier. Mr. Darcy entered my room uninvited and invaded my privacy once again. Was he a man I should fear? Would he burst through the door adjoining our chambers in the middle of the night, demanding his conjugal rights? That image was in complete opposition to the picture just painted by the servant - that of a merciful, kind and compassionate master. Who was the real Mr. Darcy?
A knock at the inner door caused me to jump! It could be no one other than him, a fact I knew for certain. My first thought was to barricade myself inside the dressing room, an idea I quickly abandoned upon remembering his warning that a door would not bar him if he wanted in. I took a deep breath and opened the door, although I must admit that my hand shook as I reached for the doorknob.
There he stood, still completely dressed, which I took as a reassuring sign. I realized that I was dressed for bed and drew my robe a little closer. It was the one alteration to my dark wardrobe that I had allowed - a beautiful champagne-coloured silk robe given to me by Mrs. Gardiner. I knew she had envisioned me in it on my wedding night, wearing it for my new husband. I could tell it flattered me by the way Darcy looked me up and down, but I refused to look away and met his eyes with a fierceness of my own.
"Sir?"
"May I come in, Elizabeth?"
"For what reason?"
"I brought you some books. I thought they might prove interesting. And . . . to apologize."
The look of contrition in his eyes seemed genuine and so I stepped back, allowing him entrance. I returned to the fireplace and he followed me, but maintained an acceptable amount of distance from my person.
"Forgive me, Elizabeth, for barging in earlier. I had not the least idea you were . . . bathing."
I said nothing, giving him not the slightest assistance.
"My valet said Fee's child was ill and when he could not find her, I thought she must be preparing your room. With the door left ajar, I assumed you were still in the library and that she had not heard my knocking. I did knock."
"I did not hear a knock."
"But I did. You must believe me. I entered only to find the maid."
His apology sounded sincere, but I was not in a mood to make things easier for him, so I made no reply and, instead, settled myself upon the sofa.
"I know that you like to read, so I selected a couple of books for you." He handed them to me, a collection of Dunne's sonnets and a novel by Richard Graves.
"Thank you," I murmured and flipped through the pages.
"I hope you found something of interest below stairs, but I picked these two from among my favourites, which I keep on the shelves inside my room."
"You have a great many favourites," I said, recalling the walls of bookshelves I had seen earlier.
He nodded and I could not keep myself from saying, "I do like books, Mr. Darcy, and I shall endeavour most heartily to improve my mind by extensive reading."
He winced at my words, both of us aware that I made reference to a sharp retort he had made last winter about a refined woman needing to be an extensive reader if she was to entertain his fancy of an accomplished woman. For some reason, I had a brief glimmer of remorse at teasing him, for it was plain to see that he knew not how to take it, and so I changed the subject.
"Fiona told me of your kindness toward her."
He did not answer, but frowned in response.
"How you allowed her to remain in your employ after her unfortunate situation."
"Aye, well, she had nowhere to go and I could not see turning her out. She was very young and ignorant."
"I assume the man could not be forced to take responsibility."
He shook his head. "I felt it was my responsibility."
"Yours? But why? Do you know who the father is?"
"I do." He turned and started for the door. "But that is all I care to say about the matter. I bid you good-night."
As he closed the door behind him, a suspicion began to nag at my mind - an ugly, worrisome thought. Why had he voiced his reply like that? His responsibility? Surely not! Oh, surely not!
I awoke the next morning to blessed sunshine streaming through the windows. Not even a hint of fog. How I rejoiced at the sight, for I did not think I could abide another dark, dreary day. If I were in charge of rain, I would have it do so only at night, at the accustomed hour of slumber and every day would be as beautiful as this morning promised. It lightened my mood considerably and when I recalled the distasteful thought with which I had ended the prior evening, I determined to dismiss it as possibly nothing more than a foolish fancy on my part
From my earliest childhood I had been blessed with a sanguine nature and although it had been sorely tried in the last six months and the past two days in particular, I resolved to think more positively, to try my best to be more optimistic. A great longing to leave the house and walk in the garden came over me and I planned to do so as soon as I had breakfasted. I even resolved to hold my tongue with Mr. Darcy; I would attempt to be more compliant, to overlook his disagreeableness, and to enjoy this day.
My resolve lasted a good half hour.
We had just sat down to breakfast that included a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee, which I dearly loved and was enjoying thoroughly, when Mr. Darcy announced that I must have new gowns made as soon as possible.
"I do not mean to disparage your wardrobe in any way," he said. "It is perfectly suitable for the sphere in which you were brought up, but you will be in need of more extensive selections as my wife."
His tone grated on me, perhaps because all that had transpired the night before had not truly been put to rest in spite of my efforts, and so with the greatest of ease my cheerful resolve flew right up the chimney. "I have never been one to put on airs, Mr. Darcy, in either my manners or dress."
"I am well aware of that. I would not have you do so, but you must see that we shall be attending concerts and assemblies as well as balls during the upcoming season, and I want you to feel at ease. You must take advantage of the time we are in town to order new gowns. Having grown up with a sister, I know how important clothes are to a woman. And besides that, I think it is time that you soften the severity of your attire."
Severity! What did he mean? When I raised my eyebrows in reply, he went on. "Pray, do not think I am insensitive to the loss of your father, Elizabeth, but it is now past six months since his passing. One rarely sees anyone completely garbed in black as you are for this length of time."
"Perhaps that is because you have never seen anyone who mourns the loss as deeply as I do, sir. How can you possibly know the depth of my grief?"
His voice softened when next he spoke. "I, too, have grieved for my parents. Although it occurred years ago, I still feel their absence."
His words shamed me; how could I have forgotten that he had also suffered such a loss? Still, my shackles were raised at the thought that he would tell me when to cease my own observance.
"Shall you not visit the dressmakers and milliners later in the week and at least select some fabrics and patterns or whatever it is that women require in something other than black? I shall allow you to choose the time you make the change, itself."
"That is generous of you, sir. At least I shall be permitted the freedom to choose when I quit mourning!" I rose and stormed out of the dining room. Just before I reached the staircase, Darcy, having followed me, grabbed my hand.
"Elizabeth! Must you make a scene out of our every conversation?"
"A scene! I cannot see that I am making a scene. I simply expressed my opinion, sir, and if I am to refrain from doing so, that should have been a clause in our marriage contract!"
Two servants could be heard approaching the staircase above stairs, and so he said nothing, but with a nod of his head, indicated that I must return to the dining room. I complied but only because I, too, did not care to air our differences in front of the staff. Behind the doors that he closed firmly, Darcy's scowl deepened. He escorted me to the chair on which I had previously sat and stood so close by that I had no choice but to sit down.
"You and I must come to a truce, Elizabeth. You are behaving as a child and I expect much more of you."
"I am behaving as a child? And why not, when you persist in treating me as one?"
He clenched his fist and put it to his mouth the way I had seen him do before when he was angry. Pacing back and forth before the fireplace, he said nothing for a full five minutes. At last, he seemed to have gained his composure. "If I have treated you as less than you are, I apologize. You must acknowledge that being a husband is as strange to me as the role of wife is to you. I have been master in this house for five years now and Georgiana has been my responsibility for as long. I am accustomed to say what I will and it is done."
"I shall acknowledge that, Mr. Darcy, if you will accept that I am not a servant, a dependent child, or a younger sister. Whether we like it or not, you have made me your wife and I intend to be treated with the honour and respect such position merits. I will not be talked down to, scolded, nor ordered. If you have not already discovered it, I hope you soon do so - I am not your property!"
There must have been a fire in my eyes, for I was as deadly earnest as I had been when he had insulted me at Hunsford six months previous. When I saw a slight smile flicker about his countenance, it did nothing to abate my anger. "What statement have I made that you can possibly deem humorous, sir?"
"Only that I marvel at how quickly you forget your marriage vows."
"I do not understand your meaning."
"Did you not but two days ago in the presence of God and witnesses promise to obey me?"
I closed my eyes in dismay. How could he bring up that sham of a wedding ceremony and the words I had been forced to utter?
"Or was your pledge of obedience as false as your vow of love?"
There was no need for me to answer, for he knew the truth as well as I did. This time Mr. Darcy was the one to turn and stride out of the room. We did not speak of our disagreement again; instead, we separated for much of the day until late that afternoon he sent Fiona to my sitting room with a request.
"If you would like to see a bit of the city, Ma'am, the master says it is his particular wish that you meet him in the front hall. He is going out and he desires that you accompany him."
I wasted no time in readying myself and joined him there. It was not an apology, per se, but it would do for now. Besides, I had grown tired of being indoors all day and longed to go out - at least, that is the excuse I gave myself.
The remainder of our so-called wedding week and the next, as well, passed more rapidly than I anticipated. There were no more intrusions on my privacy or events that sparked controversy. On the contrary, Mr. Darcy could not have been more of a gentleman. He assembled the entire staff and introduced me. I was allowed sufficient time with Mrs. James to go over the household accounts and acquaint myself with everything involved in running the townhouse. I felt quite certain that it could run itself with little input on my part, but it gratified me to learn that Mr. Darcy publicly acknowledged me as mistress of the house, no matter what situation existed privately.
It was as though both of us were making a valiant attempt to get along, and I must admit that Mr. Darcy proved to be an interesting and stimulating companion. He knew so much more than I about London and its society. In years past I had visited my relatives in Cheapside, of course, but we had rarely ventured far from the area in which they lived. Mr. Darcy introduced me to a much grander side of town and I did enjoy exploring a world I had never dreamed of inhabiting.
He conducted me on a tour of the city, showing me the best neighbourhoods, shops, and parks. I saw St. James' palace from the outside, at least, and learned that he frequented it but little, as he found himself bored with the hangers-on that populated royal society. Still, I must write to Mamma and tell her that her son-in-law has been in the presence of the king. Would not that be a feather in her cap! Now she would have a rejoinder for Sir William Lucas' many references to such.
He pointed out St. George's Cathedral, a grand stone edifice, and then named many more churches we passed by. We also drove along the Thames for some distance, but he cautioned me not to stray past a particular bend of it, for it was not a safe part of the city from thereon. Once the rain, which had returned, let up in the middle of the week, I particularly enjoyed our strolls through the park across the street from his home. Among the trees and well-tended lawns, at last I felt that I could breathe deeply. Even though the noise of the city was still evident in the background, it seemed more like Hertfordshire as we ambled through the copper and gold fallen leaves and watched the children chase their kites close to the pond and throw bread to the family of ducks hovering on the bank, while parents or nannies sitting nearby kept a watchful eye upon them. Mr. Darcy introduced me to several couples we met there and invited them to call.
It was in the park that we both seemed more at ease with one another. We talked of books and music and I was surprised to discover that our tastes were similar. In fact, his favourite authors were those of my father's, which pleased me. I had thought Mr. Darcy a man who laughed rarely, but here he was telling me that he enjoyed the sly wit of Dr. Johnson. He asked my opinion of certain artists, but there I had to plead ignorance, for I was woefully uneducated in the world of art.
"We shall have to remedy that," he announced. "A trip to Montagu House in Bloomsbury seems to be in order. Shall we go tomorrow?"
I readily agreed and we spent all of Friday surveying the great works found therein. I learned much from him and felt myself quite educated by the end of the day. It would take many more tours before I would feel at ease discussing the Rosetta Stone and other Egyptian antiquities or Mr. Townley's collection of classical sculpture, but at least I now had some inkling as to what Mr. Darcy spoke of. I marveled at his knowledge about so much of the world and when he imparted it - almost as a teacher with a student - we enjoyed perfect amiability. It was only when the personal intruded into our lives that our familiar masks once again slipped back into place.
At the end of the second week, he announced that we were invited to a ball at the Earl of Matlock's mansion on Saturday next. The invitation caused a mixture of anticipation and hesitation within me. I have always loved balls and dancing, but there I would know hardly anyone and I remembered what a disaster our one and only dance had been at Netherfield almost a year ago.
"Shall I know anyone in attendance other than Colonel Fitzwilliam?" I asked.
"I feel certain Mr. Bingley and his sister will attend, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Hurst."
Since he had introduced the subject of Mr. Bingley, I felt this as good a time as any to question him about our pre-marital agreement. "I wonder, sir, have you had opportunity yet to speak to Mr. Bingley about my sister, Jane?"
He frowned before speaking. "In what way?"
In what way! Was he purposefully forgetting our bargain? "You promised to right the wrong you committed upon my sister in regard to your influence upon Mr. Bingley."
"Oh, that," he said in a dismissive tone. "No, the time has not yet been right."
"And may I ask when it shall be right?"
We were sitting at the dinner table and it seemed to me that he took more than adequate time in answering me, choosing to carefully cut his roast beef, chew it thoroughly, and slowly wash it down with a long swallow of wine. At this rate, I thought, she shall die an old maid before you finish this meal!
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and then rose and started for the door. "Trust me on this, Elizabeth," he said, as he reached for the doorknob. "I shall speak to Bingley when I deem the time is right."
Oh, the man was so pompous! Why must everything be done on his timetable? I threw down my napkin and stormed from the room, unable to eat another bite. I was too angry to search him out and confront him further, afraid of what I might say; instead, I ran up the stairs to my chamber. Once again I spent the evening regretting that I had ever entered into this marriage. Where was his agreeable nature that I had come to enjoy the last few days? Had he dropped it in the carriage as carelessly as one leaves a forgotten umbrella? And what had happened to our newly found but tenuous cordiality? Had I merely imagined a slight crack in the shells in which we both sought protection? Was I the only one who had been fooled into thinking we might possibly tear apart those shells? Well, no more - Mr. Darcy had sealed up the crack with his own particular impenetrable paste.
Go ahead and climb back into that shell, Mr. Darcy, I thought, but remember this: Humpty Dumpty was a great big egg that thought he had a very hard shell, but as I remember it, he eventually had a great big fall!
Chapter 5
At the end of dinner on the following Sunday evening, when we had been married a total of 16 days, Mr. Darcy announced that Georgiana would return on the morrow from her stay at her uncle's home. I received the news with some alacrity and yet, a degree or two of trepidation. During our brief time of marriage neither Mr. Darcy nor I had discussed his sister except in passing, but I had many questions on my mind, not the least of which involved my maid.
"I wonder, sir, exactly why you chose to place Fiona in my service?"
He looked up from his plate with a strange expression. "What do you mean?"
"She informs me that you had removed her from Pemberley because of Georgiana. Now, you station her above stairs where she is sure to come in frequent contact with your sister."
"When I moved Fee to London five years ago, Georgiana was very young, far too young to understand the circumstances of an unmarried girl giving birth to someone's natural child."
"And I take it you feel that she is mature enough now to have that understanding."
"I do." He scowled and throwing down his napkin, he rose from the table. "Georgiana is no longer a naïve school girl, not after her experience with George Wickham."
I could tell he did not want to discuss the subject, but I persisted. "We must have some conversation about that very fact, Mr. Darcy. I fail to understand why you did not inform your sister before we married that Mr. Wickham is my brother-in-law."
"Frankly, I take no delight in relating that fact to anyone. But as for Georgiana, the answer is simple. When I left her to travel to Hertfordshire with the Gardiners, I did not even know whether you would accept my proposal. I prepared her with that truth - that I would seek your hand in marriage, but that I was unsure whether it would come about. In the event that you declined, I saw no reason to alarm her as to your connections. If truth be told, I was somewhat surprised that you did say yes."
I looked up to meet his eyes, but he had turned away with those words and walked to the fireplace. Had he asked me to marry him, hoping that I would say no? I could not believe that, for he had appeared far too persuasive at Longbourn. Or had he? I remembered his stern, cold looks when my uncle had first voiced the idea of such a marriage. When he asked to see me alone, Mr. Darcy had never offered any words of love, as he had done with his first proposal. It had all seemed more of a business arrangement, but why would he even make the offer if he did not want me? I had nothing to offer him; he would not profit from such a marriage. Suddenly I felt plain and undesirable, and the feeling hurt, why I knew not. I did not desire this man, did I? The very thought filled me with such turmoil, I resolved not to think on it.
"I fear that your decision may be causing your sister great distress. Pray, do enlighten me on your conversation with her wherein she learned of my connection to Mr. Wickham."
"She was troubled somewhat, but I assured her that we will not see Mr. Wickham, that she has nothing to fear in that regard. I trust that you will do all you can to reassure her."
"Certainly, but is it not possible that we shall see Lydia sometime in the future? If not at either of your homes, perhaps at Longbourn. You will allow me to visit my family, will you not?"
"Of course. I shall not prevent your seeing any of your sisters. I would think, however, that it shall be some time before Mrs. Wickham travels from her new home, being as great a distance as Newcastle is from either Longbourn or Derbyshire."
"Oh, I was not aware that you were privy to the site of the Wickhams' relocation."
He averted his face then and walked toward the door that led to the hall. "Yes," he muttered, "I knew that they moved there and that Mr. Wickham has gone into the regulars. Please excuse me."
He exited the room and I was left to wonder who had told him of this news. Probably Mamma. She seemed as proud of Lydia's marriage as she was of mine and to a more worthless man in England I am sure could not be found. I sighed as I rose from the table. I had made no progress in discussing Georgiana with her brother and my feelings were hurt at the way he had dismissed my apprehension. Did he think I was a miracle worker? That I could transform this shy, young girl into a poised, lively woman when I knew little about her? He could at least discuss her likes and dislikes with me.
And another thing - I was tired of his running off every time he did not care to continue a conversation with me; I resolved to question him further and quit the room in search of him. I supposed him to be partaking of an after-dinner drink, but when I did not find him in any of the public rooms, I asked a servant of his whereabouts and he directed me to a large room that I remembered on my tour of the townhouse as the game room. Sure enough, when I entered the doorway, Mr. Darcy was poised to make a shot at the billiards table. Upon seeing me, he straightened and bowed slightly. Our formality with each other seemed pretentious. I wondered if we would ever be at ease with one another. After all, we had been together every day for over two weeks now, and we were married . . . and yet not married.
"Do not interrupt your game," I said, advancing into the room. "I shall sit quietly until you finish."
"As you like," he said, bending over the table once more and making a shot that I assumed to be correct, as it hit another ball into the side pocket. I knew little of the game and watched with interest as he walked around the table, positioned his cue stick with studied precision and evidently executed perfect shots from the sound of balls smacking into each other and then dropping into the pockets around the table. He had removed his coat and I could not help but notice his excellent form. He was handsome - there was no denying it - and through his long-sleeved white shirt I could see the broadness of his shoulders and the manner in which his arms filled out his clothing. I wondered if such a figure was God-given or how he had come to possess such attributes. I also wondered what it would feel like to touch those arms, to experience their strength. While I was musing upon such idle thoughts, he stopped playing and stood there watching me. Upon becoming aware of his gaze, I started visibly. Could he read my mind? Of course not! Then why did I feel so guilty, so exposed? I spoke quickly to conceal my consternation.
"Do you enjoy other physical games, sir?"
"When in town, I engage in fencing at least twice a week."
I could think of nothing to say in reply and nodding, I turned away from his gaze.
"Have you ever played billiards, Elizabeth?"
I raised my eyebrows at such a question. "Hardly, sir. It is a gentleman's game."
"Would you like to try it?"
"Pardon?"
"We are quite alone. Are you not at all curious to try your hand?"
I was intrigued by such a suggestion and yes, I did want to do so. I rose and took the cue stick from his outstretched hand. He took my right hand, placed the stick between my fingers and then told me where to position my left hand.
"Now, place your hand upon the table and aim at the white ball nearest the red one."
I attempted to do so, but I felt quite awkward.
"You must bend over the table in order to do so. Here, let me show you," he said, taking the stick from me and demonstrating the correct posture. We were standing quite close, near enough that I could have reached out and touched him, touched that arm that proved so attractive. Such distraction limited my power of concentration so much so that when I attempted to copy his position, he stopped me once again.
"No, no, you must bend over closer to the table in order to make your aim."
I leaned over further, suddenly cognizant that the neckline of my gown proved far too revealing. I was thankful that Mr. Darcy stood behind me and not on the opposite side of the table, but then I thought of how the shape of my derriere must be exposed from the back. No wonder women did not play this game!
"You still do not have it right. Let me help you," he said, and to my utter amazement, I felt him lean over me, his left arm going around my shoulder as he clasped my left hand and moved it further back, while his right arm surrounded mine and he placed his hand over mine. I could feel the heat from his body, his breath warm upon my cheek, and the scent of his skin heady and pleasing, filling my senses until I found it hard not to tremble. "Now, pull the cue stick through your fingers like this," he said, moving it back and forth through our combined fingers, "keep your eyes on the ball, and shoot."
With a deft movement, we sent the white ball rolling across the table, where it hit a red ball neatly into the corner pocket.
"There! See how easy that was!" he said, as we both straightened up together. Was he as aware as I was that his arms were still around me?
"Yes," I managed to say, "easy, indeed with your guidance." I turned my face towards him and there was not an inch between his and mine. We gazed into each other's eyes for what seemed like minutes to me, but surely could not have been more than an instant before he released me and stepped aside. I knew my colour was high and so I averted my face, busying myself with replacing the cue stick in its holder.
"Shall you not try it again?"
"No, sir, I believe I have tried enough for now. Perhaps another night."
"Yes, perhaps," he said, keeping his gaze upon me. I looked up, meeting his eyes and wondered if it was billiards of which we spoke.
I excused myself and left the room, all too shaken by the feelings that engulfed me. I found my way into a small parlor where I had left some needlework; how grateful I was to find something with which to occupy my hands, but then how disconcerting it was to discover my fingers trembled too much to make a straight stitch. I had never experienced such feelings before, such attraction to any man, not even to the young swains who had courted me in earlier times. I liked dancing with handsome young men well enough, even flirting with them at balls and assemblies, but not one of them had ever affected me the way that Mr. Darcy had just accomplished. In one way the sentiment filled me with anticipation and in another with great dismay. Could such sensations occur with someone I professed to dislike, with someone I could not possibly love?
My thoughts were interrupted when he entered the room. I applied myself to my embroidery with a renewed focus while he poured himself a glass of Madeira. He offered me one, but I declined. I needed nothing more to cause my head to swim. I determined to discuss his sister with him once again, not only because we needed such discussion, rather because it was the safest subject I could think of.
"Sir, I would importune upon you to speak more about Georgiana. You have instructed me not to talk with her about Mr. Wickham, but I fear he is the object she most needs to discuss with me."
"I fail to comprehend your meaning."
"Your sister was most heartily misused by my brother-in-law. Can you possibly think that she does not hold that against me?"
"Why should she? You had nothing to do with it. Your sister married the scoundrel without your sanction, did she not?"
"She did not, sir. By the time Lydia and Mr. Wickham wed, I was all too relieved that he married her."
"That is not what I meant. Let me rephrase my words. You would never have desired your sister to elope with Mr. Wickham, would you?"
"Of course not, but Georgiana is unaware of that."
"But she is, for I told her that very truth on the day she departed with Fitzwilliam. The entire subject is one that causes her great pain and I do not want the issue even mentioned in her presence."
"Are you sure that her feelings correspond with yours? Could it be that she might benefit from talking of her fears and anxieties about the matter?"
"Absolutely not. I see no wisdom in such an approach. My wishes and directions remain as they were, Elizabeth. Do not mention Mr. Wickham to Georgiana, other than to assure her she need have no contact with him."
I glared at him. How could he be so infuriating in his demands, so insensible in his discernment? How did he know what Georgiana needed to talk about? For that matter, how did I? Once again, I thought of the morrow with diffidence.
The next day I arose late, my sleep having been disturbed for much of the night by strange dreams. At times I was chased by some unseen menace and at others, I turned willingly to embrace that same fearful, faceless person. I had not the slightest idea what it all meant and awoke exhausted.
Added to my fatigue was the fact that before I even went to bed, I had spent nigh on to two hours rummaging through my books and correspondence, searching out the letter Mr. Darcy had given me last April in Rosings Park. My efforts proved to be in vain. I longed to read the letter again, to once again review the history between the writer and Mr. Wickham. I am a great believer in reading between the lines and I wondered if that letter might enlighten me as to Mr. Darcy's character, for I certainly needed no further enlightenment as to Wickham's nature. I recalled the anger that had beset me upon reading it the first time - oh yes, I had been ashamed that I had ever believed Mr. Wickham's lies - but I confess that Mr. Darcy's further admittance that he had willingly kept Bingley and Jane apart had so infuriated me that I had thrown the letter aside after only one reading. Instead of carefully weighing his words, I had discarded them and evidently I had done an effective job of discarding the letter, itself. I wondered if I had forgotten it at Longbourn or even worse, left it at Hunsford parsonage. I vowed to write Jane this very morning and ask her to make a thorough inspection of my room and upon finding the missive, dispatch it to me immediately. I should like to do the same with Charlotte, but I feared she might read it or even worse, it might fall into the hands of Mr. Collins. I would begin with Jane, for I knew I could trust her to send it unread.
As for the present, I was in great need of a cup of coffee and so I descended the stairs to the sound of voices within the breakfast room. I assumed that Darcy's sister must have already returned and what must she think of me still abed at this hour? With a determined straightening of my shoulders and a forced smile on my face, I raised my head and resolved to face my new responsibility - that of winning over Georgiana.
I entered the room only to relax and beam at the welcome sight of Mr. Bingley. How relieved I was to see him instead of my sister-in-law.
"Miss Bennet!" he exclaimed. "That is, I should say Mrs. Darcy! How good it is to see you! Let me be the first to offer you my best wishes on the occasion of your marriage to this dull fellow here."
"Thank you, sir," I said. "I am very glad to see you as well."
"Only yesterday I returned to town and I could not believe the two of you married without letting me know. I have upbraided Darcy for the past half hour. Tell me, were all your sisters present at the wedding?"
"All but one, sir."
"Ah," he said, and I felt certain he was fishing for information about Jane.
"My youngest sister is lately married, herself, Mr. Bingley, and has moved to Newcastle with her husband. It was too far a distance to travel for my wedding and, in fact, I have not seen them since their marriage."
The relief on his face shone through in his eyes and even broader smile. "I see. And so all of your other sisters are well, I trust, and still reside at Longbourn?"
"Yes," I assured him. I shot a glance at Darcy, wondering if he had yet deigned the time appropriate to inform Bingley of his part in preventing him from seeing Jane when she was in London last winter. From the easy camaraderie between them, it did not appear that he had, for I felt certain Mr. Bingley would at least countenance some anger toward his friend at such deceit. Oh, how I hoped that discussion might occur between them today! But for now, I discovered that they were making plans to attend a concert together on Wednesday evening.
"Shall you not enjoy such an outing, Mrs. Darcy?" Mr. Bingley asked.
"I do not know, sir. I have never been to a concert in London, but I look forward to it."
"Excellent," he rejoined. Just then a commotion in the hall signaled the return of Georgiana, accompanied by Colonel Fitzwilliam. They were greeted and offered refreshment, but it appeared that all had eaten except for me. I decided to forego the meal and made do with coffee. Darcy and Bingley made much of Miss Darcy and brother and sister were engrossed in conversation. I observed Bingley to see if his attentions to her were apropos of a man in love (as Caroline had insisted that he was), but I could ascertain no special attention other than that he paid to any other woman. Certainly, there was no comparison to the interest he had shown my sister when at Hertfordshire.
"And so, Mrs. Darcy," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, joining me in a cup of coffee, "how do you like married life by now?"
I blushed at the question and tried to smile. "I am much intrigued by London, sir. I have never been so excessively diverted. There is much to see and do. One is quite bewildered by all the choices."
He agreed with me, and I hoped that he did not wonder why I had answered his question by changing the subject. If so, thankfully he was too much of a gentleman to pursue it and we passed no little time in casual conversation. Three-quarters of an hour later, he arose and announced that he must return to his unit.
"Come and walk me to the door, Georgie," he said, holding out his hand to her.
"And why should I, Richard? Just so you can lecture me once again?"
"Lecture?" Darcy asked. "Has she needed lecturing, Fitzwilliam?"
"You would not believe how often, Darcy! I have spent two weeks trying to make a lady out of her, but I fear the task is impossible."
"Richard!" she cried, while blushing a rosy pink. "You will have Mrs. Darcy thinking I am a hoyden! Truly, I have needed no lectures. He simply enjoys having someone to harangue. I fear that he has been away from his troops far too long and I have borne the brunt of their absence."
"Go along with you, now, Missy," the colonel said, laughing as he escorted her out of the breakfast room. We could hear their gentle banter continue down the hall. Once again, I found myself envy their easy spirit with one another.
It was not long after the colonel left the house that Mr. Bingley and Darcy made plans to depart for their men's club. Out in the hall, Darcy kissed his sister's cheek, telling her how glad he was that she had returned.
"Then why are you leaving almost as soon as I arrive, Wills?" she asked.
"Appointments, my dear. Besides, this will give you time to acquaint yourself with Elizabeth." As soon as the door closed behind the men, however, she turned for the stairs and I could see that she was poised to flee my presence.
"Georgiana, might you accompany me to the music room? I found a fugue by Bach that I am unable to play. Shall you take pity and assist me with the fingering?"
I could see the hesitation in her manner, but the enticement of a piece of music proved to win her over. We sat down at the pianoforte together and she demonstrated the correct manner in which to play the selection.
"I fear I have not practiced near enough," I said. "It is evident that you have progressed much farther in your mastery of the technique required for this difficult a piece. Pray, tell me how many hours you devote to your art."
"It depends upon the day," she said. "When I am alone, as is often the case, I seem to lose myself in the music. At times half a day has gone by before I rise from this instrument."
I shook my head. "I am impressed, my dear. You are even more dedicated than my sister."
She stiffened at my remark and I wondered what I had said to cause such a response. "Your sister who married recently? Is that the one to whom you refer?"
"Lydia? Oh, no, Lydia has neither ear for music nor patience to practice. I refer to my sister, Mary. She is the one who loves to play."
"So you have two sisters then? I should have liked to have a sister."
"I have four sisters . . . and now, it appears that I have five."
When she looked at me with a question in her eyes, I said, "You, Georgiana, are now my sister, are you not?"
"Oh," she said softly. "I had not thought of that. I am afraid I do not know how to act with a sister."
"Well, it is not difficult, believe me," I said with a smile. "I hope that you and I shall be friends, as that is what the best of sisters become."
"I have never had many friends, Mrs. Darcy."
"Oh? And why is that? I do not understand."
"Most of the year I live at Pemberley with my companion, Mrs. Annesley. I have had a succession of companions, but never very many friends my own age. I am rarely in London, for my brother prefers that I stay in the country, and when in town, I see only his friends who are all much older than I."
"That is abominable! The house should be filled with young people your age. Why does not your brother see to it?"
"Wills is very protective. I . . . I have been taken advantage of in the past and he is very careful that it should not occur again."
"I can understand protection, but Georgiana, you must not be forced to live a solitary life."
"Oh, I am not complaining," she said quickly, rising from the piano stool and walking to a chair near the fireplace. "I love my brother."
"That is well and good," I said, following her, "but he cannot be your only companion."
"My mother died shortly after I was born and I fear my father did not know what to do with a daughter. He loved me dearly, but I think he and Wills have always been afraid something would happen to me, perhaps because of the loss of my mother. Thus, I have seen little outside of our home in Derbyshire and this house in London."
"But who did you play with when you were little?"
"As I said, I had a number of companions and governesses, of course, all much older women who were more like mothers than friends. About six years ago, however, I did make friends with one of the servants. I know that sounds strange, for such an attachment is not usually sanctioned, but we had a common affliction, having both lost our mothers when very young. She was a few years older than me and for some reason, we took to each other immediately and I loved her. When she could steal away from her duties, we would run and play in the orchard at Pemberley. She taught me to climb trees and wade in the shallow end of the pond, things that scandalized my governess."
I smiled with her at the memory, gratified that she would confide such a story in me. "And is she still at Pemberley?" I asked.
"No, she is here. In fact, Wills said he was giving her to you as your personal maid."
"Fiona?"
"Yes, does she satisfy you, for if not, I should be glad to have Fee transferred to my service?"
"She is quite satisfactory," I said, surprised at this turn in the conversation. "Fee" seemed to be a favourite of both brother and sister, it would seem.
"I hope that you do not object to the fact that she has a child," she said, blushing slightly and looking at her hands in her lap.
"As long as it does not interfere with her duties, I can see no reason to object."
"She is not married, you know." Georgiana pressed her lips together and kept her face averted.
"Yes," I said, "She informed me of that fact and your brother confirmed it."
"He did?" she said quickly, her eyes searching mine. "Did he tell you who the father is?"
I shook my head. "Do you know, Georgiana?"
"No," she answered, looking away, "although I have my suspicions."
Neither of us said anything more for a while and she soon excused herself, retreating to her room. I pondered our conversation no little time. My new sister did not appear to be as innocent of the world as Mr. Darcy would have her be. I wondered how far Mr. Wickham had gone in his betrayal of her and then, although I did not wish it, my mind wandered back to my questions about Fiona. Surely Georgiana could not possibly suspect that the maid's little William was named for his father.
I did not care for that distasteful thought and how it attempted to overtake me. In order to divert my attention, I picked up a book and walked out into the garden. An abundance of clouds hid the sun that day, but rain had not yet arrived and so I relished the solitary time among the fragrant shrubs and blooming plants. I wandered down the narrow walk that wound in and around the greenery and coming upon a stone bench hidden away in an alcove that backed up to a hedge over eight feet tall, I seated myself and opened my novel. It was light and entertaining and I anticipated a good read; however, naught but a few moments passed before my reverie was interrupted by what I presumed to be servants on the other side of the giant, dense hedges behind me. They were obviously digging and planting bulbs in the flowerbeds below. I could not see the men nor could they see me, for from their conversation it was evident they thought they were alone.
I attempted to disregard their talk and even stood up in search of a quieter nook until the nature of their conversation caught my complete attention. One man complained repeatedly that he, a house servant, should not be relegated to the duties of an under-gardener, while the other reminded him that it was his own fault that had caused his descent in position.
"How can you say that," the first man replied, "when I looked far more spiffy in my tails and wig than Duffy?"
"Ah, the only reason you be put in as footman in the first place were because you and Duffy matched in size," the other man said. "You never were no great shakes at your job, Johnny, my lad, and the master taken no account with your looks. A few weeks doing grunt work inside and out and maybe if your luck holds, Master Darcy will relent and put you back in your fancy uniform."
"The master - hah! He's as unfair as they come and he thinks himself so far above us. Well, I heard a thing or two about him that brings him right back down even with me."
"Careful, lad, you don't go talking about the master too loud. Someone might hear you other than me, and he's thought highly of by every other man about this place."
"And every gal," Johnny said, snickering.
"Aye, they all think he's a looker, that's for sure."
"I can't see that he's a beauty, but some say he does a lot more than look at the girls. That Scottish girly, the one with the by-blow - I heard talk the child might be the master's. Why else would he bring her to London and bide the brat? And what made her so swanky that warranted making a ladies' maid out of her?"
"Ah, don't be spreading your filthy talk around, Johnny. Just because the girl won't let you have your way with her doesn't mean you should talk so."
"It's not me that's saying it. I swear I heard it from one of the lads in the stable."
"Well, if you did, you be mighty sorry to repeat it is all I got to say. Now, get on with your work a'fore I calls the steward."
The man called Johnny muttered something under his breath, but I heard nothing more. I sat there as though frozen in place while they worked their way down the long hedge. The suspicions I had been unable to even utter had just been spoken aloud and in the vilest of terms. The man's ugly words harrowed up fears within me, fears that I had refused to entertain. Until that moment I had not even recognized that such thoughts might possibly take root within my heart and the awareness overwhelmed me with shame. To listen to servants' talk and give it credence was far below me.
I will not have this! I almost said aloud. He may have his faults, but Mr. Darcy cannot be this kind of man. I refuse to believe it, absolutely, completely. I shall put it out of my mind as though I never heard it! There, it is gone!
And with a valiant, intrepid determination, I rose from the bench and marched into the house, absolutely resolved at the time that I would never believe such rumors. No matter what my resolve, however, my heart was troubled, deeply troubled, and that very night an affliction beset me, an affliction I had suffered since childhood whenever I was profoundly distressed. I began walking in my sleep and the next morning I awakened to find myself . . . lying in Mr. Darcy's arms.
Chapter 6
The first thing I saw was his smile. I screwed up my eyes, certain that I was still asleep and dreaming, but then allowed myself to peep through my lashes, for one does not inhale the pleasing scent of a man's skin in a dream, and Mr. Darcy's scent not only filled my senses, it seemed to permeate every pore in my whole body. I opened my eyes wider. His fine lawn nightshirt was open at the neck and there in the hollow, I could see the slight shadow of his pulse beating. That was the moment I became conscious that I was lying in his arms, those very arms that only yesterday I had amused myself with possibly touching.
"Good morning, Elizabeth," he said, his voice barely more than a low whisper, deep and gravelly with early morning sleepiness.
I could not respond. In truth, I was in such shock that I wondered if I could recall how to talk. I could not take it in, his face so near to mine, my head lying on his shoulder, his dark curls mussed and falling across his forehead in the most provocative manner, the dark shadow of his beard outlining his face - how had this happened?
Slowly, very, very slowly, I sat up, clutching the sheet to my throat. I dared a frantic peek below the cover to assure myself that I was still clothed and closed my eyes in relief to see my nightgown. "Where . . . where am I?" I cried.
"In my bed," he replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he put his finger against my lips. "Now, before you attack me with accusations, hear me out. Sometime in the night, I awoke and found you right here, cuddled up against me. You came willingly, Elizabeth," he said, the smile continuing upon his countenance. "I did not coerce you in any way."
"But . . . how . . . what . . . why would I . . . did we? Help me! I cannot remember anything!"
"My, my, you certainly know how to flatter a man. Share his bed and not remember a bit of it!"
I searched his face, mine evidently reflecting horror, but that same tantalizing smile continuing to grace his. Then slowly I realized that he had made this last statement in jest. Mr. Darcy was teasing me!
"Sir, I pray you, be serious and tell me what happened."
He took pity on me then and began to explain my nocturnal wandering. "I confess that I was as surprised to find you in my bed last night as you are this morning. I attempted to talk to you, but I soon discerned that you were sound asleep. I had an uncle who was a somnambulist and his physician cautioned us to never awaken him as it might cause irreparable damage, so what else could I do other than allow you to share my bed?" He reached over and patted my hand. "Quit your fretting, Elizabeth, and be assured that nothing untoward happened between us, for I am not a man who takes advantage of an unconscious woman. Have you ever walked in your sleep before?"
I nodded and then sighed with relief, a sigh so heavy and obvious that I saw him struggle not to laugh. It was humorous; even I could acknowledge it, and as I saw him press his lips together to restrain his mirth, I began to giggle, softly at first, and then when he joined me, we both erupted in laughter. I had never seen him laugh before; in truth, I had never allowed myself such unbridled liberty in his presence. We both laughed until I was almost crying. When our amusement eventually slowed, I became all too aware of the intimacy of our postures, for there we sat, still facing each other right in the middle of Mr. Darcy's bed.
Suddenly, I blushed anew and began to look around me, searching for a way that I could escape his chamber without exposing myself. He startled me by reaching out and gently touching my face, turning it back toward him. "What is it, Elizabeth? What do you need?"
"A graceful way out of this predicament, I confess. Will you leave, sir, so that I might return to my room?"
"And expose myself in my nightshirt, Madam? Oh, I think not. You are the invader; it is up to you to leave."
"But . . . I am not dressed properly . . ."
"So I see," he said, smiling once more as his eyes wandered over me, lazily surveying my dishabille.
"Really, Mr. Darcy, you might take pity on me and act in a gentleman-like manner," I said.
He folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "Aye, I might, and then again I might demand that you get out of my bed immediately - were not those the very same words in which you addressed me when I inadvertently wandered into your bed in that wretched little inn where we spent our wedding night?"
"But you, sir, were drunk!"
"Yes, I was and consequently unaware of my actions, Elizabeth, just as you were last night. Shall we not forgive each other these lapses and admit that neither of us is perfect?"
I was unsure whether he was serious or still teasing me, but I took advantage of the offer and agreed with him. In turn, he pulled the counterpane loose from the bottom of the bed and suggested that I make use of it as a temporary robe. I wasted no time in wrapping it around my shoulders, slipped from the bed, and hurriedly walked through the open door between our chambers. I did turn and catch one last glimpse of him over my shoulder. He sat there, watching my retreat, that same beguiling smile playing about his countenance.
Goodness, he was incredibly fine to look upon first thing in the morning!
I stewed and fretted for some time about what I had done. The last time I had walked in my sleep occurred during the wee hours of the morning after my father's burial. That time I had actually awakened, lying on the ground beside his new grave. From then on, Mamma ordered the doors at Longbourn locked at night. What I wouldn't give now for a lock on the door between my chamber and that of Mr. Darcy! But then the memory of waking up beside him overwhelmed me with sensations so new and exciting, that I found my heart beating faster and my pulse racing. Oh, what a jumble my thoughts were in!
Later that day, my new gown arrived that had been ordered for Lord Matlock's ball. I welcomed the diversion and opened the box at once. A pearl gray silk, it was finer than any I had ever owned. I had prevailed and insisted that it be trimmed in black lace, but even so, the ornamentation seemed to make it more festive rather than somber, as I desired. When I tried it on, I gasped at my reflection in the glass. I no longer appeared as one in mourning and the change shocked even me. My maid was delighted and could not contain her excitement.
"Oh, Ma'am, you are truly lovely in that dress! Won't the master be pleased!"
Again, my pulse beat faster as I wondered at his reaction.
"And here, Ma'am, are the black feathers for your hair. Aren't they beautiful and with these silver combs, you will be outstanding."
"No feathers, Fiona," I said.
"But, Ma'am, they come with the dress."
"You heard me. I do not wear feathers."
"Not even to a ball, Ma'am?"
I silenced her with a look and she quietly returned the feathers to the box in which they had come. "Help me get out of this," I said. Realizing that I had spoken in irritation, I softened my voice as she unfastened the back of the gown. "I will use the silver combs."
This seemed to satisfy her, for she added, "Yes, Ma'am, and I will fix your hair in ringlets. Fancy up-dos are my specialty, you know. I used to practice on Miss Georgiana when she was a child and I am quite skilled, if I do say so, myself, Ma'am. The master would laugh so at our shows."
"Your . . . shows?"
"Yes, Ma'am, back at Pemberley I'd spend hours fixing up the little Miss's hairdos and she had to run into the master's study for his approval of each one. She called it putting on a "show," but it weren't, really. It were just her way of getting his attention."
Once again, I noted the tone of intimacy in the maid's voice as she spoke of Mr. Darcy and Georgiana. It was almost as though she were one of the family. And just last evening I had come upon the three of them laughing together in the great hall. It ceased when I appeared and with a nod from Darcy, Fiona had vanished to the back stairs; for some reason I felt left out, excluded from their shared affinity. I watched her now as she carefully hung my gown, smoothing the creases from the skirt. We were the same age and she was a pretty lass, red-haired with green eyes and fair, fair skin. Bearing a child had done nothing to hurt her figure and I could see how appealing she might be to any man. Suddenly, the hateful gossip I had heard the servant utter about her in the garden rushed up from where I do not know, almost smothering me with its intensity. I thought that I had rid my heart of the very idea of such ugliness, but now I felt an urgent need to see her child. I wished to see for myself if he had inherited his mother's red hair.
After dressing in my familiar black bombazine, I told Fiona she was free to go, but on second thought I decided to follow her out of the room and toward the servant's back staircase. "Do you have other duties now, or are you returning to your child, Fiona?"
"I was just going to check on him, Ma'am," she said, uncertainty evident in her voice. "Was there something you needed?"
"Actually, I am curious to see your son. May I accompany you?"
"Oh, no, Ma'am. That wouldn't be proper and all, you such a fine lady going to my quarters. But I will be glad to show him to you, Ma'am. Just let me run fetch him."
I nodded in agreement. "Bring him to the small parlor on the second floor."
I found a book I had left on the table near the fireplace and settled myself to read, thinking it would be some time before she brought the child. I had not long to wait, however, as I had scarce read two pages before she entered the door, a sturdy little boy clasping her hand.
"Mrs. Darcy, this be my Willie," she said. "Willie, do your bow like I learned you."
I smiled to see him pull his thumb out of his mouth and putting his hand to his waist, make an exaggerated bow before me.
"I am pleased to meet you, Willie," I said. He immediately popped his thumb back into his pink little mouth although his mother tried her best to keep him from it. As she bent over him, a strand of light auburn hair escaped from her bun and I saw it fall over his dark curls. He had beautiful large eyes, but they were not green. They were as dark brown as his hair, and Willie looked nothing like his mother. His face struck me with its familiarity and yet to whom, I could not bring myself to acknowledge.
"He is a fine boy, Fiona. Take him to the kitchen and give him a treat and have Adams summon the carriage for me. I have a call to make."
I returned to my room, donned my bonnet and grabbed my shawl. I had suddenly been taken by a great longing to see my own family, to find comfort in the familiar world from which I had been thrust. I instructed the driver to take me to Gracechurch Street and as quickly as possible. My aunt Gardiner met me at the door, for she was about to go out. She canceled her excursion when she correctly ascertained that I was in great need of her company. We embraced and sat together on the sofa for no little time as she peppered me with questions about the weeks of marriage I had endured so far.
We talked of my mother and sisters and I was gratified when she shared a recent letter she had received from Jane. I described Mr. Darcy's townhouse in great detail and I talked of Georgiana and how shy and reticent she was and what inadequacy I felt in fulfilling Mr. Darcy's wishes to be her friend. I avoided any reference to the intimate side of my union with Mr. Darcy; indeed, my aunt would never presume to intrude upon such private matters, but I could not conceal my troubled mood from her, no matter how brave my endeavors.
"Lizzy, tell me true, now," she said, "is this marriage as dreadful as you feared?"
"I am not mistreated, Aunt."
"You are not happy, though, are you?"
"I did not expect to be, and there are moments . . ."
"Your mother had such hopes for you and I confess I entertained them as well. You must know that your uncle and I encouraged this union only because we thought it would be best not only for your family, but for you."
"I know that is what you wished for, Aunt, but I had always hoped to marry for love."
The maid brought in a tea tray just then, and my aunt stopped to pour us both a cup, busily stirring in sugar cubes until the servant had left us alone. "Many people marry without love, Lizzy. I hope that you will eventually come to have a high regard for Mr. Darcy. When we were in Derbyshire, his behaviour to us was pleasing in every respect, as well as his understanding and opinions. He lacks nothing but a little more liveliness and I hoped you might teach him that. Believe me, your uncle would never have entertained his proposal if he had not known him to be an honourable man."
"And how, may I ask, does my uncle know Mr. Darcy's character? Hospitality and pleasant ways do not always reflect the truth of a man. He is quite taciturn, you know, and unrevealing, certainly not an easy person to grasp. What assurance does my uncle have that Mr. Darcy is an honourable man?"
The look on my aunt's face told me that I had said more than I should have. I had no intention of repeating idle gossip about Mr. Darcy and my maid or allowing my own fears to be spoken aloud. How could I have blurted out such a doubt? Surely she would now question me about things I must not speak of. Oh, why had I come here? I had allowed my need for comforting familiarity to lead me to a place where I could not afford to be candid, for I refused to accuse Mr. Darcy of a deed I hoped most desperately to be untrue.
"Elizabeth, I want to tell you something. Mr. Darcy and your uncle had an occasion to enter into an arrangement. Has he never spoken to you about it?"
When I answered in the negative, she looked surprised and somewhat troubled, but continued. "Then I am not at liberty to speak of it, but be assured that Mr. Darcy acted every bit the gentleman in all of his dealings with your uncle. It was this very occurrence that elevated him to such esteem in our eyes and provided the means by which we were receptive to his marriage proposal to you."
I was baffled by this news. "Pray, Aunt, tell me to what you refer. What possible business could my uncle have with Mr. Darcy?"
"I cannot, Lizzy," she said, rising and placing her cup and saucer on the table. She walked to the window that looked down on the busy street outside, avoiding my inquiring stare. "I am sworn to secrecy, but my dearest, do believe me. Mr. Darcy is a good man, no matter what vile things Mr. Wickham said about him."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I know very well about his dealings with Mr. Wickham."
"You do?" An expression of relief seemed to light up her eyes.
"Yes, how wrong I was to believe Wickham's lies about Darcy. He explained all of that to me in a letter last spring at Rosings Park and I have rued the day I ever believed my future brother-in-law's tale of woe. I know what a rogue he truly is. We have discussed this before, Aunt. What I do not understand is any further intercourse between Mr. Darcy and my uncle and your need to keep it from me."
That same worried look descended once more upon my aunt's countenance as I spoke and then she turned back to the window. "Please do not ask me about it, my dear. If it were up to me, I would tell you all that I know, but I am bound by my oath. I will say this: I refuse to believe that Mr. Darcy would do anything less than that which is admirable and worthy."
A moment later, two of my young cousins escaped their nanny and descended upon us and we were prohibited from any further serious conversation. I enjoyed the hilarity the children provided and by the time I took my leave, my heart was eased. Perhaps my aunt was right about Mr. Darcy and my fears were senseless imagination. After all, I trusted Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and if they thought so highly of him, then they must be correct in their assessment. I repeated that idea over and over during the carriage ride, vowing to believe it, and hoping that such repetition would cause it to be true.
Upon entering the townhouse, a servant informed me that Mr. Darcy wished for my presence in the garden. It was almost dusk and so I kept on my coat, but discarded my bonnet. The early November air was growing cooler with each day, but fortunately, this evening the breeze had died down. As I followed the servant out the side door that led into the small yard directly below my bedchamber window, I heard voices, that of Mr. Darcy and a child. We rounded the shrubbery and there I saw Darcy and Willie engaged in tossing a ball back and forth. The child delighted in this attention and eagerly ran and retrieved the object each time he missed a catch.
"Mrs. Darcy, sir," the servant announced.
"Elizabeth," Darcy said, looking me up and down as he usually did. "Willie, stop and greet your mistress." The child attempted to obey, but he dropped the ball just as he tried to bow, and naturally ran off after it instead of greeting me. What child would not? I smiled and Darcy did, too, a pleasant sight, indeed. He was a handsome man, there was no denying it, but when he smiled, he was almost beautiful. And to think, on that day I was graced with such bounty not once, but twice.
"Fee, come and take Willie in, now," Darcy said, and from around a bend in the walk emerged Fiona, a pair of shears in her hand and a basket of freshly cut blossoms on her arm. She curtsied to Mr. Darcy and to me and hurried her child inside.
Now why is he out here alone with Fiona and her son? I wondered. She is collecting cuttings, that is obvious, and why should Mr. Darcy not enjoy his garden? I silently chided myself at even the thought of any other conclusion.
Mr. Darcy stood there watching the little boy drop his ball once more on his way into the house, and then he invited me to take a turn about the garden with him. The late fall roses were almost gone, having discarded much of their red, pink, and white petals along the path. I inhaled deeply, savouring the last delicious scent. The fall mums were in full bloom nestled in a bed lining the clipped dark green hedges and all of it provided a beautiful, serene respite from the noise of the street heard in the background. If only I had never walked this walk before and heard the hateful gossip from the other side of the tall hedge. That memory would have its way and insisted upon intruding into this present idyll like a slithering snake, hissing with the threat of its poisonous venom; try as I might, I could not restrain my thoughts and, consequently, the turn of my conversation.
"You appear to take great delight in Fiona's child," I heard myself say.
"He is a fine boy."
"I have rarely seen a master so interested in a servant's child."
"It is not that rare. My own father, as you know, cared deeply for his steward's son."
"Like father, like son," I murmured.
Darcy stopped walking and turned to me. "What are you saying?"
"I only wonder if you intend to educate and provide a living for Willie as your father did for Mr. Wickham?"
"He shall learn to read and write, yes, and I shall provide him with a position in my service when he is of age, but no, I shall not send him to Cambridge along with my son, as my father did."
"And why not?"
"For one reason, we can well see what little good that did for Wickham. Elizabeth, I am not in the habit of sponsoring all of my servants' children, nor do I intend to begin doing so."
"But Fiona's child is not like all of your servants' children, is he? Do you not show him particular favour as you do his mother?"
"Perhaps I do, but only because I feel a . . . well, a partiality toward Fee."
"Partiality?" My agitation was growing.
"Georgiana has always loved her and it is hard not to appreciate one who makes my sister happy. The two of them together remind me of more pleasant times, days gone by when George Wickham and I were boyhood friends. And as for Willie, he certainly bears no responsibility for the circumstances of his birth. He is a fine boy."
"Yes, you said that earlier."
"Did I? Well, let us change the subject." I did not trust myself to say any more and so, we walked in silence for a bit before he spoke again. "You went out this afternoon, did you not?"
"I did."
"You told no one where you were going. Why?"
"Who should I have told? I was unaware that I am required to report the destination of my outings before leaving the house. I am a grown woman."
"It is only common courtesy."
"A courtesy you fail to perform."
"I beg to differ. Either Adams or my valet is apprised of my comings and goings, with rare exception."
"And how should I have known that? You have often left the house and I had no idea where you were. You might have told me before now that you leave such information with particular servants so that I would not be in need of canvassing the entire household as to your whereabouts. That, sir, would be common courtesy as I see it."
He stopped and stared at me. Had I gone too far? Would he now unleash his temper upon me? I might have feared such, except that my own self-justification was in full mode, fueled by an emotion I had not yet acknowledged. We stood there, returning each other's gaze without flinching and suddenly, right there on the garden walk I realized for the first time what I was feeling - I was jealous of Fiona; when I found her and Willie in the garden alone with Mr. Darcy, I did not like it. I did not like it at all! The very thought so alarmed me that I hurriedly retreated to a much more familiar sensibility. I could handle anger; anger felt good and right and just and so I stood my ground. This time, however, Mr. Darcy would not respond to my baiting; instead, I saw a slight twitching about his mouth.
"Touché," he said with just the tiniest hint of a smile. "I shall attempt to mend my ways if you will mend yours." I opened my mouth to make a retort, but he silenced me before I could speak. "And before you announce that you have no need of mending, I shall call upon you to exercise discretion. Since we have agreed to live under the same roof for the rest of our lives and, I might add, even share the same bed at times, shall we endeavor to practice the niceties of polite society? Will it not make things more pleasant?"
I closed my eyes at the reminder of this morning's mortification, my head beginning to ache with the strain of tension. "Very well," I said flatly, and let it go at that.
We walked on a bit farther and coming upon a bench placed beneath a large deciduous tree that had already lost most of its leaves, he indicated that we should sit. From there, we could see the evening sky, the reds, oranges, and blues of the setting sun streaking across it in magnificent display. London's houses were so close, I rarely caught a glimpse of the sky, it seemed, and I missed the sunsets at Hertfordshire. How pleasant it would be if we could just sit here quietly for a while, but no, he would speak.
"Will you tell me where you went?" he asked again.
"To Gracechurch Street."
"To visit the Gardiners? How are they?"
"Well," I replied, looking at him more closely, surprised that he should take any interest in my connections.
"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are fine people. We should include them when next we entertain."
"And when might that be?"
"Sometime next week after the Earl's ball. I think we should host a small dinner party. Will you see to it?"
"Of course, but shall my aunt and uncle be the only guests?"
"No, of course not. We shall invite Bingley and his sister, the Hursts, and Lord and Lady Matlock and Fitzwilliam, as well."
I could not believe my ears. "You wish to include the Gardiners in such a gathering?"
"Yes, I can see no reason not to."
"Shall it not embarrass you, having such low connections? My uncle is in trade, you know."
"The Gardiners should never embarrass you or me. I shall be glad to have them in my house."
I gave thanks that I was sitting when Mr. Darcy relayed this bit of news. What had happened to the censure he was sure to endure at the hands of society upon marrying a woman with such lowly relatives? Had he not listed my family's improprieties last Easter when he proposed to me at Hunsford, and clearly pointed out that I could not expect him 'to rejoice in the inferiority of relations whose conditions in life were so decidedly beneath his own?'
"Mr. Darcy, my aunt told me that you had business with my uncle in the recent past."
He stood up abruptly, turned his back, and I could not see his countenance. "What else did she tell you?"
"She refused to relate the particulars of your transaction because she said it was of a confidential nature. It is only natural that I am curious. Will you tell me of it?"
"No." He turned and offered his hand, indicating that we should go. "It was a private affair and not worth repeating."
"She said it was because of that occurrence that my uncle regards you as an honourable man."
Darcy smiled slightly. "Does he now? An honourable man, hmm. Well, I shall say the same in return. I esteem your uncle an honourable man as well and one I shall be ever glad to have present at my table and among my guests. Now, shall we go in? The light is failing."
I followed him inside, more confused than ever. The man was an enigma - so many questions and precious few answers.
That night after I had done with Fiona's services and before I climbed into bed, I pushed and pulled a large chair across the room, stationing it squarely in front of the door between Mr. Darcy's chamber and mine. I then retired for the night, quite tired, yet unable to sleep. I turned from side to side; I plumped my pillows not once, but twice; I turned back the top cover and then pulled it back up around me; at last, I arose and tugged at the chair until I had returned it to its rightful place.
After all, I could not be held responsible for where I ended up when walking in my sleep.