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Chapter the Twelfth: Recriminations and Resentment
Darcy had been ready to run down the front steps and meet his wife on the pavement, he had missed her so much, but now, seeing her sister standing beside her, he stayed where he was, just under the portico. He turned to Georgiana, who had come thus far with him, to say, "You will be pleased to know that we have an unexpected guest. Elizabeth has brought her eldest sister, Miss Bennet, with her." He did his best to keep his voice steady but his emotions were running wild.
Georgiana looked at her brother, sensing all was not well with him. Ever since his unusual marriage, instead of the hoped for happiness, Georgiana had noticed that her brother's behavior had become increasingly erratic and unpredictable. And Elizabeth was an enigma as well. At times she would be cheery and playful but at others she seemed to be overcome with melancholy. Regardless of this Georgiana had become attached to her new sister and she wanted nothing more but for the two of them not to be at odds all the time. She wondered how this surprise visit of Elizabeth's sister would affect the mood of the household. As far as she could see her brother had no prior knowledge of it. Knowing his pride at being the head of the household through whom all decisions must pass she felt some concern that he might be displeased, though he appeared to be quite relaxed as he stood beside her on the porch.
As the various trunks and bandboxes were taken around to the back by the footmen, Elizabeth came up the steps, closely followed by her sister. She looked over at Mr. Darcy with an expression both apprehensive and challenging.
Darcy stepped forward and held out his hand. "I have missed you, my dear," he said neutrally, and he held her hand for only a brief moment before greeting Jane with the utmost civility. Nothing could have been wanting from his address in the way of politeness, but it lacked any vestige of warmth. He then turned to Georgiana and introduced her with the same formality.
Elizabeth looked on, aghast. She had not been given the opportunity to venture two words to her husband, and now it was too late for any form of greeting. She smiled instead at Georgiana and embraced her with more affection than she had realized she felt for the young girl, so happy she was to see at least one smiling, welcoming face. She realized now that though she was still angry with him for his overbearing treatment of her, she had been looking forward to seeing him again. Though she did not like to admit it, she had missed him and she had allowed herself to hope he might have missed her. And now all she was to be shown was calculated civility? Clearly, he had not missed her at all. Neither she nor apparently anyone in her family was wanted in this house.
While Elizabeth entertained these notions, Darcy suggested that the whole party repair to the salon where he and Georgiana had spent the greater part of the morning. After they had all seated themselves and tea was rung for, Darcy turned to Jane once again. "How long do you intend to be in London, Miss Bennet?" he asked.
Jane appeared to be a trifle overwhelmed by his severe manner and Elizabeth quickly stepped into the breach, displeased with his highhanded treatment of her sister. It irritated her to no end that all he seemed to be concerned with was the length of time he would have to tolerate Jane -- dearest, sweetest Jane -- in his home! "Fitzwilliam, Jane is now your sister, surely you no longer need to address her with such formality."
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, his expression of hauteur even more pronounced and said, "As you wish, my dear," and then turned his attention back to Jane again. "I apologize. I suppose I must become accustomed to having another sister myself. How long do you intend to be in London, Jane?"
Jane turned white and then red and then stammered. "As . . . as long as you will have me, sir . . . er . . . brother."
"It is not up to me," he said, looking at Elizabeth meaningfully.
Georgiana gasped, hoping that the implication of her brother's statement was lost on Miss Bennet. It was obviously not lost upon his wife. Two spots of color rode high upon her cheeks. "I had hoped Jane could stay with me for two months or more." The challenge was back in her eyes, but none of the apprehension remained.
"Were you thinking of putting her in the blue room?" blurted out Georgiana, her courage rising with the effort of trying to avert an unpleasant scene.
"Of course, a room must be prepared," said Elizabeth, smiling her thanks to Georgiana.
"The blue room is very pretty. I think Miss Bennet . . . er . . . Jane will like it."
"Blue is my favorite color," said Jane quietly.
Darcy turned to his wife as he reached for the bell pull. "Is it settled? Shall I ring for Mrs. Lacey?"
Elizabeth nodded her assent and then turned to Jane and the three girls began to converse about the appointment of the bedchamber in question. Darcy stood and walked to the fireplace, leaning against the mantle and looking upon the tableau of the three heads together, his face impassive. This was not how he had pictured Elizabeth's long awaited homecoming. He clenched his jaw to control his inner turmoil.
Mrs. Lacey arrived and looked first to her master but then, at the imperceptible shake of his head, turned towards her mistress.
"Welcome home Mrs. Darcy," she said pleasantly. "I trust your visit with your family was all that you could have wished for."
"It was indeed, Mrs. Lacey," said Elizabeth. "And as you can see I have brought a guest, my sister, Miss Bennet."
Mrs. Lacey smiled at Jane and they exchanged greetings, then Elizabeth requested the room to be prepared.
Shortly after Mrs. Lacey had quit the salon Georgiana offered to play for the sisters, and Darcy, who had been silent for the most part, excused himself, stating he had business to attend to in his study. He closed the door on the sounds of gentle voices and soft music and strode down the hall to his sanctuary. There, he sat at his desk and tried to attend to his correspondence, but to no avail. He ran his hands through his hair, loosened his cravat, and took some deep breaths.
Why did Elizabeth's actions affect him so strongly? They had been married now for a month and a half and he still had not found a way to reach her. Sometimes he felt that they were more distant than if they had not been married at all. Her eyes held no more love for him than they had done that day he had found her in the woods. Had he been right to marry her out of hand when he cared so much and she seemingly not at all? After a month and a half she still did not confide in him - made decisions without his knowledge or consent. And now, when he had hoped to be able to spend time alone with her and develop some sort of bond between them she had brought her sister to wedge in between them like a knife, cutting off any intimacy that may have grown. He felt anger at his powerlessness over her. Anger at his own weaknesses where she was concerned. Anger at his inability to make her love him.
He picked up a paperweight that held down a stack of business letters and threw it across the room. It hit the oak wainscoting, ricocheted against the corner wall and fetched up at the leg of his desk. The noise brought a footman running, but one look at his master's frowning face had him backing out of the room posthaste. Darcy took up one of the letters, read it over a few times and then pulled a piece of paper towards himself. He jabbed a pen into an inkpot and then began writing furiously. Fifteen minutes later he crumpled the pages he had covered into a ball and threw them into the fire, then got up and paced back and forth, stopping only to retrieve the paperweight from the floor and place it on his desk.
Finally the clock chimed six and it was time to go upstairs and dress for dinner. He waited until he heard the ladies pass by his door on their way to the main staircase, then he let himself out of his study and followed slowly in their wake. As Elizabeth reached the door to her bedchamber he came up behind her and said, "May I have a word with you in private?"
She looked at him, and seeing his face, wished she could refuse, but nodded and allowed him to hold the door open for her. He leaned against it as he closed it and watched her walk toward her dressing table.
"Do I have no say about what goes on in my own house?" he asked, his voice harsh and strained.
Elizabeth turned to him, her eyes flashing. "Did you come here only to censure me?"
"I have come here to find reason in your actions. First you agree to go on a visit to your family without consulting me and then you bring your sister home without even having the decency to ask for my permission."
"Permission? And must I ask your permission to breathe too, or are there some things that I am capable of deciding on my own?"
"I would like to be involved in some small way when the decisions affect both of us."
"You do not want Jane here? She can go tomorrow . . . and I with her."
"Elizabeth, I did not mean that - you know I did not."
"I know nothing of the kind. You had not one friendly look or word for either Jane or myself since we walked in the door. I had been gone a week but upon my return I did not get the greeting a wife deserves. If you had missed me . . ."
Darcy's face darkened. "Do not attempt to change the subject. I was angry when I saw what you had done, and I don't regret that anger. My feelings were right and just. I will not be cuckolded in my own house. I make the decisions. Your sister is here now and she can stay, but next time I will be consulted - do you hear me?"
"Yes, I hear you. Who could not hear you with such bellowing?" said Elizabeth turning away. "Now would you please oblige me by leaving? I must dress for dinner - I do not wish to keep our sisters waiting."
Darcy turned on his heel and wrenched the door open. He did not look back at Elizabeth, but stepped through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind him with a resounding bang.
Elizabeth's shoulders began to shake and she threw herself upon the bed, burying her face into her pillows as she let loose all the hurt and loneliness and longing that she had felt since she had returned to the townhouse and Fitzwilliam. He was so cold, so heartless, so cruel, and he cared nothing for her at all. Why had he ever married her - better that she had been left to her ruin. What was worse than anything was that she would have welcomed a kind word from him, a smile, a look of endearment, and most of all the feeling of being close to him, her head pressed against his chest, his heart beating in her ear, and his arms wrapped about her, warm and comforting. And she was afraid it was something she would never experience again.
Dinner was a quiet affair, and Elizabeth retired early as she was not feeling particularly well. Jane went with her and the sisters spent some time alone in quiet conversation before bed. Darcy's anger was in no way mollified by Elizabeth's desertion. Would this evening set a precedent for Jane's entire visit? Would Elizabeth continue to avoid both him and Georgiana in favor of her sister's company? He must give her the benefit of the doubt that she might actually be feeling ill; and he could not blame Jane for wishing to tend to her sister rather than spend an evening in company with those she barely knew and certainly had not made her feel welcome. When he went up to his rooms for the evening, he thought of stopping to check on his wife but thought better of it. If she was truly ill then his presence would do nothing to comfort her; and if she required anything he was sure Jane would advise him of it. Long after Jane had left her, Elizabeth lay awake in her bed. She heard the unmistakable footsteps of her husband passing down the corridor and unaccountably she hoped he would check in on her. She held her breath as he passed, but there was not so much as a pause in his gait. She sighed to herself as her tears began to run afresh. She was unwell and he did not seem at all concerned. He was the only person she could confide in about the reasons she felt ill, of all her worries and fears. She had not been able to speak of it to Jane. He was her only confidante, yet he remained out of reach.
Elizabeth's lamentations were short-lived, as the next morning Elizabeth went to breakfast in the best of spirits, looking forward to spending the day with Jane. Darcy greeted the ladies with the same stiff civility he had shown the previous day and quickly departed for his club. Elizabeth was relieved to see him go and began to plan her day with her sisters. And so it was for the next few weeks. Darcy and Elizabeth avoided each other's company as much as possible by day and the ladies did as they pleased, Georgiana and Jane becoming fast friends.
With the beginning of the London social season, the family was often invited for an evening out to a dinner or a ball or a concert. Elizabeth's mornings likewise became filled with a whirlwind of calls and visits. During their evening outings, Darcy was more attentive to his wife than was his wont at home. Elizabeth was disgusted by the mask of marital felicity he wore for the outside world. He accepted every compliment of his wife with the expression of a man in love, and every derisive comment or look was met with indignance of equal passion. Such behavior might have pleased her had she thought it genuine.
The size of Elizabeth's London acquaintance continued to grow as she met new friends at every such event. She had never realized that her husband moved in such a large circle -- one that included several eligible and very pretty young ladies. It soon became evident she was being appraised by some of the most illustrious personages in the land -- particularly the mothers of those very young ladies who had, doubtlessly, fixed their hopes on her husband. She very much enjoyed introducing Jane to everyone she met, though it felt rather strange to be chaperoning her elder sister in society. Georgiana, of course, never went out with them at night as she was not yet out. Elizabeth could not help, each time they bid goodbye to Georgiana for the evening, recollecting Mr. Darcy's adamant announcement that his aunt would accompany his sister into society.
To Darcy, Elizabeth appeared more lovely in each new evening gown she wore. He found that he admired her taste in dress. Her clothes were cut fashionably, but were not overly ornate. He soon began to notice her décolletage was more full, and at first he thought it was the way her gowns were cut to enhance her figure. But when he began to notice the same phenomenon when she was wearing her day dresses, he wondered at the cause of such an alteration. Perhaps she was eating more now than she had in the first weeks of their marriage when she had been overwrought with grief. That would certainly explain it, and he was not displeased with the results, knowing that she was in good health.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth lived in her own quiet agony as the time continued to pass with no sign of her monthly indisposition. One morning, about mid-January, she awoke feeling extremely ill and ran to her dressing chamber. Her maid came quickly upon hearing the sounds of illness from her mistress, whose head was bent over the chamber pot. After several minutes of resting following this ordeal, Elizabeth felt well enough to dress and go downstairs. However, her stomach was far too unsettled for her to even enter the breakfast room and she awaited the other ladies in the salon. To her surprise, the first person to enter was neither of her sisters, but rather her husband.
"Are you feeling unwell?" he immediately asked her.
"Yes," she answered curtly.
"Is there anything I can get you for your present relief? A glass of wine perhaps? Shall I fetch your maid?"
"No, I will be well. I fear there is no relief that either could possibly render."
"Elizabeth . . ." he began.
She stopped him. "Please . . . do not say anything."
At that moment Jane and Georgiana entered the room. Elizabeth was surprised when Darcy did not leave, but rather remained in place. His presence was unsettling as were his frequent glances in her direction. They remained thus, speaking lightly of inconsequential matters for some time until a caller was announced and Mr. Bingley was shown into the room. Elizabeth was very pleased to see him, but she noticed that Mr. Darcy seemed a bit apprehensive about his friend's presence. He seemed displeased when Elizabeth directed Bingley to a seat next to Jane. Georgiana retreated to her usual shyness whilst the others enjoyed a pleasant conversation. Bingley visited with the ladies for nearly an hour before he was prevailed upon by Darcy to join him at his club. Darcy returned several hours later alone, to Elizabeth's disappointment, reporting that Mr. Bingley could not accept his invitation to dinner on account of a previous engagement.
Later that evening as Elizabeth dressed for bed, she put her hand to her belly after removing her dress and undergarments and stood in front of the looking glass. She cocked her head to one side as she noticed a slight increase in the size of her waist. She was overtaken by sadness and stood in silent misery as the maid pulled her nightgown over her head.
After she dismissed her maid, she was ready to crawl into bed when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. Without even wondering why it did not come from the door adjoining his room, she assumed it was her husband and opened it with some apprehension. She was surprised to see Georgiana.
"Good evening," she said shyly, "I hope I am not disturbing you."
"Not at all," replied Elizabeth, inviting her into the room.
"I did not want to bother you but I thought you would still be awake."
"Of course I am happy for your company," said Elizabeth, motioning for Georgiana to take a seat on a chair in her sitting room. "Were you having trouble sleeping?"
"Yes, actually," said Georgiana with a slight blush. "It has been so long . . . "
Elizabeth was slightly confused. "So long since what?" she prompted, sensing that Georgiana wished to make some disclosure but was hesitant.
"So long since . . . I have seen him," she said quietly, almost whispering the last word.
"Seen who, my dear?" asked Elizabeth, her apprehension beginning to stir as a most unwelcome thought began to form in her mind.
"Mr. Bingley," she replied blushing deeply.
"Mr. Bingley?" questioned Elizabeth, even as she realized for certain now what Georgiana must mean.
"He is the sweetest, kindest, gentleman I know . . . other than my brother. He is so kind and he would never do anything . . . dishonorable. I know I am still so young. I am not even out yet. But I would not mind foregoing a season at all if I should find the right person without one . . . I cannot help but hope."
"I see," said Elizabeth, trying to remain calm. "And, does Mr. Bingley return your feelings?"
"I do not know," admitted Georgiana quietly. "I sometimes think he cares for me. But I am afraid I may be seeing more of what I wish than what is really there."
Elizabeth needed to be alone. She had enough on her mind with her own problems and now she had to think about what this revelation meant for Jane. Was it possible Bingley was in love with Georgiana? No, he loved Jane, of that she was certain. She took Georgiana's hand, "Try to get some sleep now, my dear. Everything will work out for the best."
Georgiana smiled, "Thank you for listening. I think I am growing quite accustomed to having a sister."
Elizabeth did her best to return the girl's smile and watched patiently as she left the room. As soon as she was again alone, she crawled into her bed to think about all she had learned. She could not stop the tears from tumbling down her cheeks as she thought of Jane and Georgiana as rivals for Mr. Bingley. Her conviction that he was in love with Jane began to give way to doubt. Then she was struck with realization and she suddenly began to understand Mr. Darcy's reaction to Jane's presence. He must desire the match. Perhaps he even encouraged his sister's feelings.
She was roused from her reverie by another knock on her bedroom door. She wondered whether it could be Georgiana again or if it was Jane. Yet, when she answered the door she was surprised to see neither. It was Mr. Darcy.
Chapter the Thirteenth: Courtesy and Confusion
The tearstains on Elizabeth's cheeks made it evident she had been crying. Without a word Darcy entered her room and closed the door behind him. Her demeanor after breakfast that morning had been troubling him all day. There could be no question what she meant to communicate -- that she was with child. But he had to have confirmation of it. And, more importantly, he must reinforce his commitment to her. For all the difficulties that had surfaced since their marriage he would not allow her to doubt that he would accept her child. Now all he could see was her sorrow and her raw pain. All these weeks she had been suffering as the result of her horrific encounter and carrying the burden of the possibility that it had resulted in a child. He felt like a fool. He had offered her salvation and in providing it had only replaced her suffering with misery of a different sort by allowing her to shoulder that burden alone. How could he have failed to see that it was this anxiety of not knowing that had been the cause of her erratic behavior since their marriage? After all, he had noticed -- even been appreciative of -- the changes to her body wrought by her condition. How could he have been so foolish? To have enjoyed the enhancement of her figure when the cause of it was something which only brought her misery and shame?
She stood looking at him expectantly, as if bracing herself for another unpleasant exchange. As he stared at her she suddenly felt conscious of her appearance. Spots had begun to appear on her face lately and she was certain he must have noticed her diminished beauty. At last, he reached out to her and touched her arm. Her head bent as new tears began to flow. He took a step towards her and caressed her cheek and her neck. She fell into his arms. They stood thus for several moments. She, sobbing quietly against his chest and he, placing gentle kisses in her hair. At last he said, "You must rest," and led her to the bed.
She sat on the edge of the bed and said, "Why did you come?"
He sat next to her and, taking her hand, he responded, "I have been very worried about you since our conversation after breakfast."
"I am well," she said, drawing away from him a bit.
"Elizabeth," he said, taking her other hand. "Please speak to me."
"You would have me say it then? What good would it do to speak of it? We both know it is true. Nothing we say can change that."
"Are you certain, absolutely certain?"
"Yes."
He wrapped an arm about her shoulders and she allowed herself to lay her head against his shoulder. After a few moments of silence he spoke. "It is not so terrible, Elizabeth."
She drew away from him and looked at him incredulously. "To have the child of that . . . that horrid excuse for a man?"
"It will be your child too, Elizabeth."
"I have no wish for my flesh to be eternally bound with his in such a way."
"Your pain is still fresh. In time you will heal."
"How am I to heal with such a constant reminder of the event? I will look into the face of this child everyday and see him. It seems I am destined to carry this suffering my entire life."
"I will do everything in my power to help you heal," he said tenderly, stroking her hands in his own.
"You have aided me so much in many ways. And I must and will always be grateful for it. But I cannot imagine how you can be of any help now. This only makes everything worse."
"I promised you I would accept this child as my own."
"It was a promise made in a moment ruled by emotions. It was made out of pity. How can I expect such a great sacrifice from you? How can I expect you to make his child your heir? Would that not truly be a form of revenge even more satisfying than his attempt to elope with your sister?"
"Elizabeth, I do not make promises lightly, especially one of such great import. It was not made out of pity, but rather to right a wrong I had a hand in causing. I have resigned myself to the possibility of this eventuality. I am prepared to keep my promise. As for the child," he touched her face softly as he continued, "I do not look upon it as being his but rather as being yours. His part in the matter accounts for nothing. He will have no influence upon the child. It will be raised as a Darcy, molded and guided into being everything that is good and honorable -- everything he is not. And I will have no reservation about a child being my heir who is raised by my own hand and yours. The child will not be his at all, but rather mine . . . ours. He or she will call me 'Father' and bear the name Darcy. There can be no triumph for him there. Besides, I cannot imagine he would ever become aware of the child at all."
"How is that possible? He will learn of our hasty marriage, if he has not already. News of our family will undoubtedly reach him. The age of the child must at least give him reason to suspect."
Darcy sighed. "He has left England."
"What?" she cried in surprise. "You have had news of him? Are you certain he has left England altogether? Can it be true?"
"After our wedding I went in search of him. I still am not sure what I would have done if I had found him. But I did not. I learned he somehow obtained a ticket to Canada and I was unable to catch up with him before he departed. He is gone."
"That is where you went?"
"Yes."
"But why did you not tell me?"
"I did not wish to trouble you with news of the villain. I only wish for you to recover from the event."
"This news is of great help in that regard. I am relieved beyond measure that he is gone, perhaps forever! If he has gone to Canada what reason could he possibly ever have for coming back? None!" Then her countenance changed. She became sad and concerned, "I do hope he will not have occasion to injure another as he has done to me."
"I too hope he will never commit a similar deed. But that is all we can do -- hope. And, it does no good to worry yourself over something that you are powerless to control." She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. She knew he was right. "There," he said, wiping her face, "let us speak of him no more."
Elizabeth felt relieved that Wickham had left the kingdom, and her conversation with Darcy had gone far to reassure her with regard to the child she was carrying. She felt some of the burden of her condition had been lifted from her. Darcy urged her to lie down and she began to fear he would leave her. She was not ready to relinquish his comforting embrace. She was pleased when, instead, he stretched out beside her and gathered her in his arms. She placed her hand over his and whispered, "Please stay with me."
He touched her cheek, "As you wish."
Elizabeth awoke to the sound of light breathing that was not her own. Her husband was lying by her side on top of the covers, asleep. The night before the lighting in the room had been dim, only provided by the low fire and a single candle; now early morning sunlight was streaming weakly through the partly drawn curtains. She raised herself up upon one elbow and stared at him. He was stretched out on his side with one arm underneath him and the other flung out and hanging over the edge of the bed. His head was turned away from her - she could just make out a cheek rough with stubble beyond the dark, tousled curls on the back of his head. The collar of his dressing gown was loosely open and she could see his neck and the edge of his white nightshirt. She had never had such an opportunity to study him so closely before and she watched, transfixed, as his back, draped in silky black, moved up and down with each breath he took in and expelled.
Her eyes traveled further down, past his waist that was accentuated by the belt tied around it, and further still along the angle of his hip down to where his lower legs lay free of the confines of the dressing gown. It was the first time she had ever seen a gentleman's legs thus exposed without the fine covering of stockings or pantaloons. The well-developed muscles of his calves were covered with dark, curling hairs that fascinated her. The form of his legs she had noticed before, but she had never seen the color of the skin, so pale beneath the downy hairs. And his feet - so large compared to her own, but well-shaped, with long toes.
His legs shifted position, one knee became exposed as the foot drew back and the dark folds of silk fell aside. Elizabeth felt the movement of the blankets and mattress as his body turned and she flashed her gaze back up to the head of the bed to find his eyes trained on her. She blushed, averted her eyes, and pulled her blankets up to her neck in one quick movement. She had been staring at his naked legs - what would he think of her?
"Good morning," he said softly. "I trust you slept well."
"Y . . . yes," she stammered. "And you? I do not see how you could have been comfortable almost falling over the edge of the bed as you were."
Darcy busied himself with straightening his dressing gown as he spoke. "I slept very well. Indeed, I overslept. I apologize for my appearance - I had meant to be up before you awoke." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. "Were you comfortable and not . . . not too crowded by my presence? I had no intention of inconveniencing you."
"You did not disturb me in the least," Elizabeth said as she sat back against her pillows, still with the blankets pulled up around her chest.
"But now, I can see that I am in the way. I will go to my dressing room and prepare for the day. Will I see you at breakfast? Do you feel up to it?"
This reference to her condition only served to embarrass Elizabeth all the more. "I . . . I think I may be able to eat some tea and toast."
"Shall I have it sent to you here?"
"No, I shall dress and come downstairs. I am not an invalid," said Elizabeth. She instantly regretted the forcefulness with which she spoke.
"Very well, I will see you there," Darcy replied tonelessly, and then he rose from the bed and departed through her chamber door - the adjoining one still being locked - without turning to look at her again.
Elizabeth stared at the closed door hardly aware that tears had begun to trickle down her face. He had not wanted to stay with her - that much was apparent. He may have said the night before that he accepted the child as hers and would raise it as his own, but the fact remained that it was Wickham's child. He would provide for it, and provide for her. But love? That was out of the question. He would love neither the child . . . nor herself. She had been sullied by Wickham and they would always have daily proof of that. How could she possibly expect anything more from him than the kindness that he had shown in saving her reputation and accepting her child? She wiped her face and wondered how it was that now she did indeed crave more from Mr. Darcy than just his protection and his name. But he had been so understanding the night before and lying in his arms was so very comforting.
Rising from her bed, Elizabeth pulled the bell-rope to summon her maid. She would wash and put on her sprigged muslin - it was light and cheerful - and then she would face the day and her husband and sisters as if all was right with the world, hiding the heartbreak she felt inside and the fear that the idea of the little being growing inside of her instilled.
Things remained awkward between Darcy and Elizabeth for the next few weeks, but their newfound courtesy endured. The evening after they had spent the night together, Elizabeth hoped Darcy would come to her again, but she was too shy to invite him to her chamber. She certainly did not want to give the impression that she was ready for anything else, but she had so enjoyed sleeping in his arms. For his part, Darcy would very much have liked to make it a habit of sleeping in his wife's bed. But he had no wish to impose on her. She showed no signs of requiring the same comfort she had on that one night. They unwittingly agreed it was for the best, though. Each, in their own mind, believed such intimacy would complicate matters between them.
Mr. Bingley called on the family regularly during this time. Elizabeth was at a loss to determine how to treat him. She wished to promote his attachment to Jane and thus was inclined to invite him frequently to dine with the family. However, she had no desire to encourage Georgiana's attachment. To her eyes, Mr. Bingley was as in love with Jane as he had ever been. She did not know whether to be disappointed or relieved that Georgiana did not seem to notice. The young girl's innate shyness, however, was a blessing. She spoke even less in Mr. Bingley's presence than was her usual wont, which Elizabeth could only attribute to her feelings for the gentleman.
Elizabeth was put in a particularly difficult situation by the fact that both her sisters confided in her regarding Mr. Bingley. And, it would seem, they both felt encouraged by his attentions! Elizabeth knew Mr. Bingley could not be cognizant that his kind behavior towards Georgiana was misleading the young girl. It was not to be wondered at that his ebullient cheerfulness should be taken as more than it was intended to be by one so shy and withdrawn as Georgiana. Even the smallest attention on his part was perceived by her as something much more significant. It was only this heartbreaking circumstance that dampened Elizabeth's happiness for her sister as she watched love bloom between her and Mr. Bingley.
About three weeks after Georgiana had first confided her feelings to Elizabeth, the Darcys and Mr. Bingley were invited to a ball. Elizabeth was relieved Georgiana was not out yet. She reflected on the irony that Mr. Darcy's distrust of her with his sister should actually work to her advantage! The ball was as successful for Jane as Elizabeth could have hoped. If she had not been able to discern so much for herself, Mr. Bingley's sisters' apparent dissatisfaction with their brother's attentions to Jane would have been telling enough. Elizabeth returned home elated on her sister's behalf. She stayed in Jane's room and talked about the evening at length, fervently encouraging her sister's every hope where the gentleman was concerned.
No sooner had she returned to her rooms, than she was surprised by a knock at her door. Her heart jumped at the thought of it being her husband. But she was surprised to find Georgiana there instead.
"Elizabeth, I hope you do not mind my disturbing you," she said shyly.
"You are not disturbing me at all, Georgiana. Please come in," said Elizabeth, hiding her disappointment.
"I did so want to hear about the ball. Were all the ladies' gowns very fine?"
"Very fine indeed," said Elizabeth. "There was so much Spanish lace my dear papa would certainly have protested!"
"I am assured that you and Jane looked lovelier than all the other ladies."
"That is sweet of you to say. My sister is so very beautiful that I think she outshone all the rest."
"And were there any gentlemen that I know?"
"If you mean Mr. Bingley, yes, he was in attendance."
"And did he have many beautiful partners?" asked Georgiana wistfully.
Elizabeth laughed. "I did not make note of all his partners, but I do know that he danced two dances with Jane and sat and conversed with us for much of the time that we were not dancing ourselves."
"Did he dance two dances with any other lady?"
Georgiana seemed quite content to learn that Jane was the only young lady he danced with a second time. Elizabeth sighed to herself when Georgiana was finally satisfied enough to retire to her own chambers. Something had to be done or she was going to be hurt deeply when Bingley and Jane should announce their engagement. Elizabeth resolved that she would speak to Darcy about it as soon as may be. She would explain Georgiana's feelings so that he might advise Bingley to send the girl a clear message about his intentions towards her -- or lack thereof.
Chapter the Fourteenth: Counsel and Contention
The next morning after breakfast Elizabeth approached her husband with some hesitancy. Their rapport, though distant, had been harmonious the few weeks since her emotional outburst and the night she had spent sleeping in his arms. As much as she wanted to discuss the matter of Georgiana's feelings for Bingley with Mr. Darcy, she did not want anything to upset the precious equilibrium of their daily lives. But she really had no choice - what was most important was to protect Georgiana from being hurt.
When he saw her enter his private sanctuary, he was a little alarmed. "Are you unwell?"
"I am perfectly well. Thank you." She paused only a moment, gathering up her courage. "I wish to speak to you of Georgiana."
"Is something the matter with her? Does she need me?" He stood as if to leave the room with the instinct of a protective brother.
"She is fine, sir. She is practicing at the instrument."
"Then what is it?" he asked impatiently.
"I am concerned that she may have developed . . . expectations regarding a certain gentleman."
"Gentleman?" he said in alarm, "Of which gentleman do you speak?"
"I have reason to believe she has formed an attachment to Mr. Bingley."
"Why should that concern you? I cannot think of a more worthy gentleman."
"You do not imagine he returns her affections!"
"Why should he not? Granted she is young at present, but Bingley is a good man and she is more than an exceptional match for him. I would not hesitate to give him my blessing."
Elizabeth gaped at his remark, "Surely you have not been encouraging her in such a futile fantasy, " she said incredulously.
"I only want what is best for my sister. In fact, I myself have hoped for some time that in the future they may make a match of it. Bingley is just the sort of caring individual that I could trust Georgiana to."
At length she replied pointedly, "You would forward her hopes when you know that his feelings are engaged elsewhere?"
Darcy turned away from her and walked towards the window. "I know no such thing," he said obstinately.
"You cannot have failed to notice his attentions to Jane."
"I have not noticed any special regard on her side -- I am confident that it is only an infatuation on Bingley's part," said Darcy, with a dismissive wave of his hand, showing how unimportant he felt the issue.
"But . . ." Elizabeth could barely suppress the ire that was rising. "I can vouch for Jane's love. She is not one to wear her heart upon her sleeve, but she has confided in me."
"So is that why you brought your sister here without so much as a 'by your leave' from me? To throw her in Bingley's way? I dare say your mother would be proud!"
"You know very well why I required Jane's company!" she replied indignantly. "You alone know what I have suffered. Is it so wrong for me to have one of my family with me in my time of need? Would you begrudge me my one source of comfort?"
Darcy bristled at this, for clearly she did not consider he and his sister dear enough to take comfort in them. He could not help replying, "Because we were not enough for you, Georgiana and I?" He immediately regretted it.
"That is ridiculous."
"Is it? Do you think I do not realize that you brought her here to avoid spending too much time solely in my company."
Lizzy was growing angry. How could he throw such an accusation at her - even if it were true? It was ungallant of him to charge her with it. "Please do not change the subject," she answered shortly. "I am trying to discuss a pressing concern I have about your sister. If you do not care for her happiness, at least I do."
"How can you say such a thing? You know that Georgiana is one of the most precious persons in my life," he responded in a tight voice, his back still turned to her as he surveyed the road below. "You claim to be the only one who cares for her happiness, yet you would see all her hopes shattered in favor of Jane's comfort and security. Why should my sister give way to yours?"
"It is not a question of my choosing one over the other. It is Bingley's choice, and it is obvious to me where his preference lies, even if you cannot see it. My object is to protect your sister - to prevent her happiness from being shattered by giving her some warning of the inevitable."
"I think you are jumping to conclusions regarding Mr. Bingley's intentions."
"Mr. Darcy - I do not like to break a confidence, but your sister has confessed to me that she feels herself in love with Mr. Bingley. I do not know how to go on. I have both sisters, yours and mine, confiding such feelings and I know not what to say to them. I would have you talk with your friend so that he can act in a way that both know where his feelings lie."
"I see no necessity for that."
"But he treats Georgiana with smiles and attention that she thinks spring from love rather than friendship. Of course, I have no doubt that he does not realize it. He must be made to see that what are intended as acts of friendship by someone who is as convivial and affable as Mr. Bingley can easily be taken as so much more by a young girl who is as shy and reserved as your sister. I am sure if he knew how his actions were being interpreted, he would take care to make it clear to her that his fondness is like that of a brother. If he does not, then she will be heartbroken when the day comes that he proposes to Jane."
"You seem very confident of that outcome," said Darcy coldly.
"Anyone who could not see it would have to be blind, or in love themselves."
"Which amounts to the same thing. No Elizabeth - I cannot see what purpose it would serve to disclose my sister's feelings to Bingley. She would be more embarrassed than ever if it were to come out that he knew. Some things are best kept private."
"You needn't go so far as to disclose her feelings. Simply explain you feel his behavior may be open to misinterpretation. He will listen."
I will not undertake a conversation that must surely be awkward and uncomfortable for both parties when there is no reason for it."
"So you refuse to warn Mr. Bingley?"
"The idea is ridiculous."
"I am sorry to have taken up your precious time then," said Elizabeth as she rose and began to leave the room. She paused and, turning back to him, added, "Mr. Bingley will propose to Jane. I would counsel you to do whatever is in your power to prevent you sister's inevitable disappointment, as soon as may be," then stalked out of the room.
Darcy did not turn from the window, but as the door slammed behind his wife his shoulders sagged and he leaned against the frame. A sigh escaped his lips. Another conversation with Elizabeth had gone ill. Of course, her idea of talking to Bingley was preposterous. What did she expect him to say? 'Look here, man, don't lead my sister on if you are courting Miss Bennet?' For his part he had not noticed any difference between Bingley's attentions to either lady. No, what concerned him the most was Elizabeth. It seemed that instead of growing closer as time went on they only drifted further apart.
He sighed again and then went to sit at his desk. He spent some hours staring at correspondence, but he did not take in one word. He could not stop replaying the conversation with Elizabeth in his mind and soon his thoughts turned from his unstable relationship with her to the intentions of his friend. Could Bingley seriously be contemplating making an offer to Miss Bennet? Clearly the young lady expected one. Perhaps he should talk to his friend after all. He rang for his carriage.
Chapter the Fifteenth: Engagements and Estrangements
By the time Darcy arrived at Bingley's door, he was still unsure how he would approach so sensitive a subject with his friend. He wondered what he really hoped to achieve - if his friend were truly in love with Jane Bennet, was he beyond all persuasion?
"Darcy!" cried Bingley with delight as he was shown into the room. "What brings you here?"
Darcy sat on the edge of a chair, twisting his hands together and turning his signet ring on his pinky. He had no idea where to start.
"Should you not be at home with your wife?" continued Bingley. "You see enough of me as it is the way I haunt your establishment these days. I know if I were married I would be loath to leave my wife on such a fine day! In fact I was contemplating inviting the ladies to Green Park for an outing." Bingley gazed at his friend in guileless pleasure.
"You do enjoy visiting," said Darcy carefully, "and if I am not mistaken, neither my wife nor I is the major attraction."
"No indeed!" he chuckled. "But there is a certain young lady staying under your roof that I cannot seem to get enough of. Do not attempt to pretend you are not fully aware of this. I have been most open in my attentions."
"Too open, I fear."
"Darcy, whatever can you mean? Is it possible to be too attentive to a beautiful woman?"
"I suppose it would depend on the woman."
"Darcy!" said Bingley, somewhat abashed. "You must be teasing me. You can have no doubt that Miss Bennet is the object of my affections. You of all people must understand what it is to love."
Darcy had to admit to himself that he understood the sensation all too well. "So it is Miss Bennet, then? You are absolutely certain of this? I would not have you settled in a loveless marriage for the world."
"She's an angel," said Bingley dreamily. "I just wonder if I am deserving of such a prize as she. Do you think there is hope for me? Hope that she returns my love?"
Darcy turned his head away. Deceit was not in his nature, but he could hardly reveal a confidence that he was unauthorized to share. "I had not previously given the matter any thought."
"No - you are too busy basking in the happiness of your own making. These Bennet girls, eh Darcy! No one is their equal."
'The happiness of my making,' thought Darcy bitterly. 'It is hardly happy and hardly of my making. More like the misery of Wickham's making! Is the man so in love that he is completely blind to the disharmony that plagues my marriage?' He reflected that it was just as well Bingley had no suspicions. He hoped that the truth was as effectively hidden from the rest of the world as well.
He only replied, "But Bingley, surely you must see the imprudence of such a choice?"
Bingley was puzzled by his friend's concern. How could it be imprudent for him to marry into the same family as Darcy had? "But we would be brothers," he cried, "would not that please you?"
"Of course it would and I confess I had hoped for such a connection between us."
"Then there is nothing more to be said. Shall we return to your townhouse and fetch the ladies for that outing to Green Park?"
Darcy could see that there was no argument to be made against the match now that he had married Elizabeth. With that, the two men left together.
That evening when they went upstairs to their bedchambers to retire for the night, Elizabeth asked for a private word with her husband. He agreed and she led him into her room and then turned to face him. "I am pleased that you changed your mind about calling on Mr. Bingley today. Thank you for reconsidering."
"You do not understand," said Darcy. "I went to dissuade him from addressing your sister."
"You did what?" cried Elizabeth. "Have you no proper feeling? What has poor sweet Jane done to deserve such . . . treachery?"
"Elizabeth," he said, reaching out to her as she turned away from him. "I wanted to ascertain his true feelings. I thought his fancy tended toward Georgiana, but you were quite right. He is in love with your sister and there is nothing to be done for it."
"What do you mean by that? What would you have done if it were possible?"
Darcy did not answer at first. She wrenched her arm away from his grasp. "Elizabeth," he said weakly, "I cannot lie to you - I would have tried to bring him to reason."
"Reason? Jane is my sister - how can you deny your friend one Bennet girl when you are married to another? Is our union so distasteful to you that you want to protect him from the same ignominy?"
Darcy said, "No, of course not, you misunderstand me," as he stepped forward.
But Elizabeth put out her hand. "No," she said, turning away from him. Then she added, sarcastically, "I suppose if something terrible were to befall Jane she might be worthy of his pity, but as she is, she is not worthy of his hand!"
"Elizabeth please listen . . ."
"No. I do not want to hear another word. Please leave my chamber now."
Darcy moved to exit the room, but before leaving he added quietly, "I am concerned about Georgiana. She will be hurt by his preference. I hope you will be a friend to her in spite of your abhorrence of me."
Elizabeth made no reply.
After Darcy left, Elizabeth threw herself upon her bed and cried. The worst part was that while she was so angry with her husband she still longed for the comfort only his arms could provide her. But this latest confrontation was more painful than she could bear. Her feelings of rejection built resentment she could barely contain. How could she have ever thought him understanding? He cared only for his own interests. He was cold, cruel, and completely heartless.
For the next few weeks Elizabeth avoided Mr. Darcy as much as possible. The weather was fair and she went for many walks with Jane and Georgiana, often accompanied by Mr. Bingley. She tried always to be in the company of two or more persons to avoid those confidences to which she would not know how to respond.
Elizabeth daily noticed changes in her body also. She was no longer ill every morning; instead she was hungry at the most inopportune moments. And sometimes no food seemed to satisfy her. The dinner of roast duck she had anticipated all day on one day suddenly held no interest for her, but she would have given anything for a platter of strawberries still warm from the sun, and aspic on toast. All her gowns needed letting out, for though the styles did not constrict her thickening waist, the bodices had all become far too tight and revealing.
Despite Elizabeth's continued irritation towards her husband, and her concern over Georgiana's tender soul becoming crushed, she was happy whenever she beheld Jane and Mr. Bingley together. She knew it was only a matter of time before he proposed to her sister and she lamented that Georgiana remained oblivious of the fact and that Darcy seemed to be in denial. The only thing that puzzled Lizzy was what was keeping Mr. Bingley from popping the question.
It was not long after, that Charles awoke to a fine spring morning. When his valet had attended to his toilette, he looked out his window at the blossoming world outside. The sun shone upon lime-green grass in the park opposite, and a maid walking a dog wore only the lightest pelisse over her morning dress. "This is the day," he thought to himself. He strode to his chest of drawers and removed the jeweler's box from the drawer where he had placed it four days ago.
He had kept his grandmother's wedding ring for years before considering using it. Only when he had spent several weeks getting to know Jane Bennet had he known that he would offer her the ring, but when he had returned to London to retrieve it, he thought the setting was quite out of date. His Jane deserved something more modern, he decided, and had taken it to the jeweller immediately. Together they had designed a ring that he knew would look lovely on Jane's long white finger, and he had only to wait for the proper time to present it to her.
However, when the ring was ready, he had been so distracted by all the goings-on at the Darcys that he did not have a chance to pick it up from the jewellers'; besides, it was an errand he wanted to run himself rather than send a servant for it. This week, after the last ball, he finally had the opportunity to go, and he was so pleased when he did. The ring was perfect -- just as he had imagined it. He pictured it snuggling Jane's finger, glinting and winking at anyone who looked at it, proclaiming to the world his love and commitment. With glee in his heart, he had hidden it away, waiting for the perfect day when he could slip it on her finger and ask her to marry him.
He smiled at the intricate platinum design and combination of diamonds and sapphires. He rang to be dressed and to procure the carriage so that he could set off as soon as possible.
Georgiana sat on the edge of her bed. "Perhaps today, he will come visit," she thought to herself. "Maybe today he will make some gesture to show me how he feels -- if he returns my feelings." She dreamily walked over to her vanity table and brushed her own hair. She enjoyed putting up her hair for herself, and today she felt like trying something new. As she ran the brush through her long, blonde, straight hair, she examined her features. "Clear skin, colorful, full lips, bright eyes -- you are definitely in love, you silly girl!" She smiled as she pinned a few locks up in interesting positions. She took the pins out of her fringe and fluffed out the curls. "What should I do with this long lock? I wonder what Mr. Bingley would like," she wondered, and then shook her head. "Oh my, I really am in love. I can't even style my hair without thinking on him."
Noting that her eyes looked dark blue today, she chose an azure gown to match and rang for her ladies' maid to dress her. "Now that I'm in my best looks, I'll find something to occupy my time. How charming it would be for him to find me stitching or painting my little table," she mused.
Charles stepped out of his carriage at the townhouse. He patted his pocket and smiled at the puffy white clouds above. "I hope she's at home!"
Mrs. Lacey greeted him warmly. "Mr. Darcy is in his rooms; I'll go fetch him," she said as she started toward the stair.
"Oh, no, Mrs. Lacey. I should like to visit, er, Miss Bennet."
Mrs. Lacey paused, smiled, and nodded knowingly. "Yes, of course. Miss Bennet is in the courtyard. Let me show you out."
Together they walked to the French doors. Mrs. Lacey opened them and preceded Mr. Bingley. She announced him and returned inside.
Jane looked up, pleased and surprised at his interruption. She wore a round straw bonnet and a pale yellow dress with green trimmings. She had a basket held over one arm containing several flowers she had cut from the bushes. In her left hand she held some gardening shears. "Hello, Mr. Bingley. You're just in time to witness my creation." She motioned to a vase that stood on a nearby table that already had several yellow flowers blooming inside.
He strode over to her. "You already have a lovely start. Miss Bennet -- Jane -- I am glad I happened upon you alone." He took the shears from her hand, placed them on the table, and looked into her eyes. "Your eyes are such a beautiful mix of green and amber flecks. I don't think I've ever really noticed them before."
Jane gazed back into his eyes. "Why, Mr. Bingley, I..."
"Call me Charles, Jane."
She smiled gently. "Charles." She looked down at her basket. "Should I go and get Elizabeth to come out with us? Or," she looked up into his face, "is there anything personal you don't want her to hear?"
He took her hands in his own. "Jane, it's as if you know my thoughts," he said tenderly. He kissed her left hand and stroked it with his thumb. "I wonder if you can guess what they are now, then. If you know how much I care for you. I wonder if you will consent..."
At that moment, Georgiana walked through the door into the courtyard. "Mr. Bingley!" she said, clearly astonished at the scene before her eyes. Her mouth opened and closed as if she could not formulate words, her eyes darting back and forth between the couple.
Chapter the Sixteenth – Misery and Mortification
Posted on Wednesday, 6 June 2007
Jane smiled at Georgiana, misinterpreting her anguish for embarrassment on interrupting two lovers. "It's all right, Miss Darcy. You are most welcome to join us. But could you step back inside and fetch my sister?" She looked back at Charles, hoping that would afford them another minute or two together in private, so their understanding could be finalized.
Instead of returning inside gleefully, Georgiana broke into sobs and fled inside. Both Charles and Jane were surprised. "What is wrong?" Charles wondered to Jane.
"I have no idea," Jane replied. "But I believe we had better go and see!" She hurried toward the door.
"Jane, wait! Please, let us finish our conversation and then go inside. Her brother will attend her, and I've a feeling we would intrude. Do you not agree?"
Jane hesitated, then shook her head no. "I can not feel easy while poor Miss Darcy is in high dudgeon. Please, let us go inside, and then we will find time to talk later."
Charles understood, and they went inside.
Mr. Darcy was coming out of his chambers when he heard his sister crying. "Georgiana?" he called and ran to her rooms. She arrived moments before him and slammed the door.
He knocked gently. "Dearest, what is the matter?" He continued rapping, but all he got as a reply was the muffled sound of her sobs. As he was wondering whether he ought to fetch help or just enter unbidden, Elizabeth entered the hallway.
"Is there something wrong, Mr Darcy?"
Darcy forgot all the disharmony that lay between them and cast a pleading look her way. "Georgiana ran in there and has locked herself in! She is clearly distraught. Should I demand she let me in? Or should I just barge in?"
”Oh no, it has finally happened,’ thought Elizabeth, ‘just as I feared.’ "I will try,” she said and she knocked upon the locked door. "Georgiana, it is Elizabeth. Will you not open the door to me?" Elizabeth heard no movement in the room, but the volume of Georgiana’s cries seemed to diminish.
Elizabeth looked at her husband. "Something must have happened with Mr. Bingley," she whispered urgently.
"Do you think that is why she is distressed?"
"I warned you how it would be."
Just then Jane walked up the stairs. "Have you seen Georgiana? She came running into the house, and she looked most unwell."
Mr. Darcy asked, "What happened, Jane?"
Jane tried to hide the smile creeping across her lips. "Mr. Bingley was speaking to me in the courtyard, and Georgiana happened upon us. I think we frightened her, poor thing."
Darcy shook his head. If only he had listened to Elizabeth when she had warned him – he felt as if he had failed Georgiana once again. "No, no, this is all my fault.”
Jane and Bingley both looked at each other, clearly confused. Darcy suggested they repair to the drawing room where they would soon be joined and they lost no time in following his good advice.
Darcy pulled his key ring out of his pocket. "Elizabeth, would you please go and console my sister? I think she needs a bit of comfort right now. I know you are probably very happy for Jane, but this should be attended to first, I think."
Elizabeth considered being affronted at his control over the situation, but decided that he was right. She and Jane would have plenty of time to rejoice later; Georgiana was also her sister and needed her immediately.
Georgiana was lying across the bed sobbing, her head stuffed against her pillow. Elizabeth walked over to her and tentatively touched her shoulder. “Georgiana?”
Georgiana turned around swiftly and glared at Elizabeth through her tears. “Have you not heard of such a thing as privacy? My door was locked and yet you dared take a key and enter without my say so.”
“Because I am worried about you.”
“No! You are glorifying in your sister’s success. You wanted her to steal Mr Bingley from me! He was mine till she came along!”
“I am sorry if you think thusly of me. Yes, I want my sister’s happiness, but I want you to be happy too. Mr Bingley has always been a good friend to you – like a second older brother. Can you not see that it was never anything more than that?”
“But I love him! Why could he not love me back? Am I that unlovable?” Georgiana threw herself back upon the bed again. “Please go away and allow me to assuage my grief and mortification in tears.”
“But your brother is worried. I want to be able to bring him a favourable report.”
“Tell him his sister has still to learn how not to be a fool in love.”
“Georgiana! You are young yet – in good time you will meet a gentleman who will love you truly in return.”
“What do you know about love?” asked Georgiana. “You married Fitzwilliam and yet . . . I have not seen any great evidence of love on your part.”
Elizabeth hung her head. “Georgiana, there are reasons that I cannot go into. Your brother is a very good man and I esteem him highly.”
Geirgiana turned and looked at her one more time, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. “Is marriage only about money? Like Mr Wickham wanting my forty-thousand pounds? If it is, then you and your deceptively sweet sister Jane have done very well for yourselves. You shall have to give me pointers on getting a husband once I am out.”
Elizabeth was shocked into silence. She had never seen this bitter side of her new sister’s nature. It all could be laid at Wickham’s door, and yet it seemed she was partly to blame too. “You have had a great shock,” she said. “I can only assume that you do not really mean what you say. I will leave you now to reflect upon all this. I must return to the drawing room to wish my sister joy. I hope you will be able to bring yourself to do so in the near future, as is expected of a well deported young lady.”
Upon leaving the room, Elizabeth was intercepted by Mr Darcy in the corridor.
“How is my sister?”
“She is deeply hurt and lashing out with bitter accusations. I advised her to come to her senses soon and exhibit more ladylike behaviour.”
Darcy stared at her. “Georgiana is always well behaved.”
“Well at this moment she has a very jaundiced view of love and marriage, and it seems we have been helpful in the formation of such an outlook.”
“I . . . I have done my utmost . . .” Darcy stuttered.
“My only consolation is that happiness will not elude Jane in her marriage,” said Elizabeth, “even if I am never to share her fate.” She walked away from him quickly, furious with everyone who bore the name of Darcy, including herself. It was almost a curse, that name.
She went down to the drawing room where Jane and Charles shared their delightful news and she was able to hide her own pain while congratulating them both.
“I am so deliriously happy!” cried Jane. “Is it right for anyone to be as happy as I?”
“Indeed it is!” said Elizabeth. Your Mr Bingley, as you can see, is equally happy.”
Charles had a grin that split his face from ear to ear. He was incapable of uttering one coherent sentence.
“You must go to Longbourn at once and speak with our father.” Elizabeth reminded him. “Your engagement cannot be official until you have his permission.”
“Of course!” cried Bingley. He called for the footman to bring his coat and hat and then said his goodbyes to Jane. Elizabeth turned her head as he took Jane’s hand. She walked over to the window and stared out. Their harmony and delight was almost too much for her to bear. She wiped a tear from her cheek and tried not to think of how nice it would be if a certain gentleman would take her hand and gaze into her eyes with just so much caring.
Darcy sat in his study, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. Through his window the evening sky darkened to deep black. He turned the glass and watched the brandy swirl across the vitreous surface, then he took a quick gulp, forcing the spirit down his throat. It was not in his nature to drink in times of distress but he wanted to find oblivion after what Elizabeth had told him. She could never envision herself happy with him. Never. Oh, how it hurt!
He thought that in marrying her he was saving her, but it seemed he had failed her sorely indeed. How naïve he had been to think he could right the wrong that had been committed against her. He stared at his drink and forced another swallow. She was with child and would beget a living reminder of how Wickham had used her. Was it possible to love a child conceived in violence?
And now, Georgiana was suffering again. All due to that evil scoundrel Wickham. Darcy had heard nothing of him since his ship had sailed for Upper Canada. He had sent scouts, but travel took long – he did not expect any news for many months. His hope was that Wickham would never return, but even so, he was left with the burden of Wickham’s ruinous hand upon his family.
How to effect a cure? How to turn Georgiana into the sweet innocent she used to be? How to bring Elizabeth happiness? How to make her love him? He groaned and tossed the remnants of his glass back. Then he reached for the bottle.
When he made his way upstairs he was surprised at the level of difficulty of the task. Previously he had never even considered what climbing stairs entailed, he just sailed up them. But tonight . . . tonight there was something quite different in everything he did. Why was he even climbing the stairs? He had a purpose. Yes, he remembered. He had a purpose. He was going to go to Elizabeth and lay his heart open to her mercy. If she knew how he felt, could that not influence her feelings for him? She had his name. His money. His place in society. But she needed to know she had his love.
He swayed a bit as he knocked on the door that adjoined her room to his. “Elizabeth,” he said in a loud whisper. “It is I, your husband.” He waited and was rewarded with the sound of footsteps.
“Yes?”
“May I come in?”
“It is your right,” came her reply.
The key moved in the lock and the door swung slowly open. She was standing in a halo of dim light, dressed in a cream silk dressing gown, knotted above her swelling abdomen. She looked shapely and desirable, and he felt his passions rising. Why was he here, in her room with her? Was it on her invitation? He shook his blurry head and gazed upon her shadowed face. He reached out to take her chin and turn it into the light, to see her better. She stood still and allowed him.
“Your eyes,” he said, “are upbraiding me.” His voice sounded strange even to himself.
“What is it you want?”
Her tone was tentative, not dismissive, and it urged him to go on.
“Your lips ask questions, but silently, they invite.” He leaned forward, put his arms about her, and nuzzled his face to her hair. He felt light-headed. Her fragrance was intoxicating.
“You are drunk!” she hissed.
“On you,” he said, leading her to the bed. “There is something I came to tell you. Something of utmost importance.” He sat and pulled her beside him.
She backed away from him, her expression unreadable.
He stared at her face. “Happiness,” he said at last. “I have come to bring you happiness.” Then he lay down against the pillow as the room spun around him and he wondered, wondered . . .
Elizabeth felt relief replace the revulsion that had first swept over her, since the moment she had smelled the spirits on her husband’s breath. The relief was only momentary for it was soon replaced by disappointment so overwhelming and unexpected that Elizabeth had to dash quick tears from her eyes. She knew that she had wanted his arms around her. His lips upon hers. And not for succour – she had wanted them to assuage the same thing that that she had seen in his eyes. Passion. She had wanted to be stroked and caressed and given pleasure. But she had not wanted it from him in a drunken state.
She wanted him to desire her in truth, and not in a debauched moment. The realisation confused and frightened her. Were these urges the stirrings of love, or something quite different and base in nature? Was she developing prurient desires?
She looked at her husband, and even in his drunken stupor, his face impressed her as being one of the most handsome she had ever beheld. His nose so straight, his jaw so firm. His cheeks, slightly stubbled at the end of the day, gave him an almost rakish appearance. His hair curled over his brow in a dark tangle. His neck cloth was loosened slightly but his collar was still buttoned tightly. She did not think he could comfortably sleep like that. She reached out to untie it and undo a few buttons.
A few short minutes later Elizabeth could see his chest lower and raise with each breath, buttons undone and shirt laid open. She reached her hand out and touched the firm skin, lightly sprinkled with fine hairs that lead down in a line in the center. She could barely breathe herself, wondering at her audacity. She trailed her hand across his clavicle, down his arm, to his hand. She held his fingers in hers, warm and strong, and slightly rough compared to her own soft hands. She raised his hand to her lips and placed a tentative kiss on his knuckles, then she moved away, folded the counterpane over him, and stretched out alongside his sleeping body. For a few moments she would pretend that she was happily married with a loving husband beside her. The morning and reality would come all too soon.
Darcy shifted in his sleep. The bed was not as it should be. The blankets were confining him and his head ached something fierce. He rolled over and found a body curled up beside him. Elizabeth, her housecoat gaping at the neck revealing a luscious swell of silken skin.
How had he come to be in Elizabeth’s bed?
And suddenly it all came back to him. The brandy. The walk upstairs that had been akin to mountain climbing. Going to her room to . . . to . . . what had he done? He looked down at his clothes and saw that his shirt was open to the waist. He looked again at Elizabeth, sleeping peacefully. His head throbbed. Surely he couldn’t have taken her in his drunken state?
Her eyes opened at that moment and stared into his, then she clutched the counterpane and pulled it up to her chin, averting her face.
“Your shirt!”
He pulled it closed and sat quickly. His head reeled.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I am so sorry. I had only wanted to . . . can you ever forgive me?”
“Please go.” Her voice came muffled from under the covers. “I do not want to talk of this.”
As Darcy left the room, Elizabeth lowered the blankets and watched him depart. When the door shut silently but firmly behind him she sat up and straightened her sleepwear. On the ground by the bed was his neck cloth where she had dropped it. She leaned over, picked it up, and held it to her cheek, taking in the subtle scent of him that lingered on the linen.
‘Oh! How am I going to face him?’ she thought as she remembered her actions of the night before.