Fitzwilliam Darcy stood on the sea wall and closed his eyes for a moment. There was something invigorating in the air at Ramsgate, something he had not expected.
Only a month ago had his mourning for his father ended. For a year, he had been too overwhelmed with all the responsibilities thrust upon him to find time to enjoy himself. A chance comment by his cousin Lord Mallory had reminded him that his sister had lost her parents too, and she was in need of diversion as much as he.
After two days in Ramsgate, they had already seen a lifting of spirits. Georgiana had smiled more in that time than in the year previous. She would probably never be considered lively, but Darcy had at times despaired of her ever being cheerful again. Mallory had proved correct. This was exactly what they needed. This morning over breakfast, they had made a list of the things they wanted to see. Darcy had smiled to himself, suspecting that six weeks would be insufficient to give half their list justice.
Up the coast, he could see the harbor. It was still under construction, but ships were coming in with the tide anyway. Georgiana pointed excitedly at the colorful banners and flags, begging that he would take her closer. He had not yet learned how to tell her no, but he did admonish her not to stray far from him. They were too accustomed to the wilds of Derbyshire, where one could walk for hours and not see another living soul. Georgiana, having never traveled beyond Kympton, had never seen so many people in her life.
They walked by the rows of neat houses towards the harbor beyond, passing many in their perambulation. Eagerly watching everything around them, Georgiana soon dropped his hand, but kept near him. Darcy envied her a little. She did not have to think of the crowd of strangers around them and what to do and say when introduced to anyone. He had not yet deciphered the intricacies of society, though his aunt Matlock would say it was because he would not bother to try.
At the edge of the harbor, Darcy stopped, Georgiana still at his side. She had been right to ask to come closer. The ships were quite a sight, rocking in their moorings while men loaded and unloaded cargo. Beyond, white sails carried more of them to and fro, and Darcy wondered for a moment if one of these ships would have been bringing him back now. He'd planned a long journey on the continent after Cambridge, but his father's sudden death had prevented it. There was no use in repining, but he could not help wondering what it would have been like to see the places he had only read about.
While he stood watching the ships, Georgiana walked on ahead of him. It was a moment before he realized it, and by then she was more than halfway across the street and out of his reach. Just yards away, a pair of horses harnessed to a curricle reared and lunged, straight towards his sister.
"Georgiana!" he cried, but it only caused her to look up and see the danger. Instead of running out of the way, she stood petrified.
Darcy rushed into the street, knowing he could not reach her in time. But a blur of white and blue appeared behind Georgiana and pulled her to the other side. When the horses had passed, Darcy saw his sister, pushing herself up from the cobblestones, a young lady likewise on the ground with her.
He had eyes only for his sister. "Georgiana," he said again, this time with his heart in his throat. He helped her stand, and once it was clear she had no injuries beyond some scrapes, he picked her up. While he stepped out of the street again, she began to sob into his cravat.
Assured of his sister's safety, he looked down at the person who had saved her. Her own companions were gathering round. "Goodness, Lizzy!" said the woman with her. She carried a child of about two, while another one only a little older clung to her skirts. "Are you all right?"
"I am well, Aunt," said the younger lady, really not much more than a girl, her voice shaking a little. The man helped her stand, while she cast a rueful smile at her own scraped wrist, where her sleeve had been pushed up. While the man pulled out a handkerchief to bind the girl's wrist, she looked straight at Darcy, frowning in deep concern. "Forgive my impertinence, sir, but is the young lady hurt?"
"She is more shocked than anything else, I think," Darcy said, not caring that they had not been introduced. Nor did he think anything of the dust now all over the white dress and blue spencer this stranger was wearing. "I cannot thank you enough. I owe you my sister's life."
Her cheeks colored, and she looked away. "It was very brave of you, Lizzy," said the man with her.
"Someone had to," she replied quietly.
They stood awkwardly for a moment while Georgiana's crying ebbed. She was too heavy now for him to carry around very much, so he set her on her feet and knelt in front of her. "I'm sorry, Fitzwilliam," she whispered. "You said to stay close to you."
"I did," he replied, kissing her forehead. "But I think you have learned your lesson."
She nodded, fighting back more tears.
"Sir," the man said, having gathered up the older of the two children, "I am glad your young charge has escaped serious injury. We will not detain you; I am sure you wish to see her home."
"Wait!" he blurted out, rising again. "I must know to whom I am indebted."
"Edward Gardiner, at your service," the man said with a nod. "My wife you see here with our daughters, Maggie and Hannah. And this," he said, gesturing to the young lady, "is my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of Longbourn in Hertfordshire."
"Fitzwilliam Darcy," he replied, bowing. "This is my sister, Georgiana. Miss Bennet, let me thank you again for this extraordinary service."
She opened her mouth as though she would object, but remained silent when he held out his hand. She placed her hand in his, and he bowed to place a gentle kiss on her gloved fingers. When he met her eyes again, she was blushing once more, biting her lip as though to hold back a smile. Her brown eyes were shining, and Darcy was struck by how beguilingly pretty she was.
The Gardiners invited the Darcys to join them in Norris Street for tea. Under any other circumstances Darcy would have refused. He barely knew these people, but a few minutes in their company had cemented his gratitude and pushed him to exert himself far more than he would otherwise be inclined. He was a little relieved when they led him to a respectable street and a well-looking house.
Mrs. Gardiner immediately set out to see to the wounds of her niece and her guest while the little girls went with their nurse, leaving Darcy with Mr. Gardiner. "Have you been in Ramsgate long, sir?" Mr. Gardiner asked.
"But two days. My sister and I arrived late on Monday, so today was our first outing."
"Hopefully the rest of your visit will be uneventful in comparison."
Mr. Gardiner was perhaps ten years older than Darcy. Darcy soon learned that the man was in trade in London, but he and his wife were fashionable people and their niece a gentleman's daughter. The men quickly fell into a discussion of the impact the war was having on trade, though something the lady spoke of soon caught his attention.
"I lived in Derbyshire when I was your age," she was saying to Georgiana. "In a little village called Lambton."
"Lambton is but five miles from my home!" Georgiana said, a broad smile on her round face.
Mrs. Gardiner looked up at Darcy. "Indeed? I thought your name was familiar."
Darcy glanced at Miss Bennet without meaning to; he saw no recognition in her expression. Her aunt provided an explanation in a quiet voice. "Pemberley, the principle estate in that part of Derbyshire, is the ancestral home of the Darcys."
"Oh. I have heard you speak of it, Aunt. I do not believe I knew the family name."
"It might have enough woods and groves to satisfy even you, Lizzy," Mr. Gardiner said with a laugh. "My niece is forever exploring the country in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy, though it drive her mother to distraction."
"Uncle!" Miss Bennet cried playfully. "Please do not discredit me in front of our new acquaintances! Let them form an ill opinion of me on their own observation."
"I am not sure that is possible, Miss Bennet," Darcy said. "I believe I am too much in your debt to think ill of you. Besides, how can I cast judgment when my mother was fond of a walk in the woods herself?"
Miss Bennet smiled archly. "Were there woods and groves enough to satisfy her, sir?"
"At Pemberley? More than she could explore in her lifetime." Beyond that he dared not speak. It had been a long time since he had willingly spoken to anyone about his mother. She had only been gone three years now.
Mrs. Gardiner sensed his uneasiness. "I was sorry to hear of the passing of your parents, Mr. Darcy. They were excellent people, very kind to the poor."
He nodded his thanks, eyes downcast; but his sister surprised him. "Fitzwilliam is just as good to the poor as Mamma and Papa were," she told Mrs. Gardiner. "And I could not ask for a better brother."
"Georgiana," he said, but found himself unable to say more. She bounded up from her seat to throw her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. The memory of the horses bearing down on her flooded him again, and he pulled her onto his lap without the slightest care for propriety, or how old his sister actually was.
From the chair opposite him, Miss Bennet was regarding the scene with a soft smile. For once, Darcy could not help but smile back.
The Darcys stayed through supper; so late that Georgiana was too tired to walk home and a servant had to be sent for their carriage. Even after it had arrived, the guests lingered at the door. Mr. Darcy bowed over Mrs. Gardiner's hand and then Lizzy's, and when their eyes met Lizzy felt a little shock. He was as handsome a man as one could expect to see anywhere, and the real gratitude in his dark blue eyes made her tremble slightly as she made her curtsey.
"An amiable young man," Uncle Gardiner said, when their guests had left. "I like him very well."
"He is perhaps a little serious, but that is hardly surprising when you consider the responsibilities on his shoulders," her aunt replied.
"He shows an affection for his sister which is very pleasing," said Lizzy, who had perhaps not begun to feel anything greater than the love for her own dearest sister.
"Indeed he does, and with the service you rendered him today, I imagine you will never fall out of grace with him," Uncle teased. Lizzy spluttered a protest while she blushed, but her uncle merely pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Perhaps you may teach him to laugh at himself, and then he will be the perfect specimen of a gentleman."
Pride – and a little mortification – straightened her spine, and she announced that she was going to bed.
A pause here will be sufficient to explain the reasons the Gardiners had for coming to Ramsgate. Little Maggie had suffered through the spring and early summer with a persistent cough; the physician in London had recommended sea air as a remedy. Jane Bennet had at first been engaged to spend some weeks in town with them, but when they made plans for the sea, she offered to let Elizabeth go in her place.
Youngest sister Lydia was put out that Lizzy was going to the sea without her, but fortunately her mother protested that she would not be separated from her baby, and she certainly could not leave Longbourn while a party of young gentlemen was due at Purvis Lodge. It was clear from every letter that she expected this to seal Jane's fate before she turned nineteen and began to lose her bloom.
Lizzy herself cared little for the company of young men yet, beyond their agreeability as dance partners. Ramsgate was far more to her liking just now. In a month she would be seventeen, and a very pretty seventeen at that. She had not Jane's fair complexion and gentle manners, but lively spirits and a pair of fine eyes had already caught the attention of a young gentleman of Derbyshire. She was not unaware of her charms, but she was perhaps a little young to understand their full powers.
The next day saw them call on the Darcys. Lizzy and Georgiana compared their battle scars with a good amount of giggling, but the younger girl sobered suddenly when she noticed Mr. Darcy's scrutiny. "Brother, did I do something wrong?" she asked in alarm.
Coming to stand behind her, Mr. Darcy bowed to kiss the top of his sister's head. "You really must learn that I do not always watch you to find cause for disapproval, sister," he said. "In fact, I rarely do."
"Then you must learn to smile more, sir," Lizzy put in, though after a moment she marveled at her audacity.
Mr. Darcy did not seem offended, only puzzled. "Do I look so fearsome?"
"I confess, I had wondered what I had done to earn your disapprobation."
"Lizzy," her aunt gently admonished.
The young man shook his head, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Perhaps I have learned too well to conceal my pleasure."
The day passed with great enjoyment for everyone from there. They walked together to the large open market and thence to some of the shops, where Lizzy was obliged to replace the bonnet deemed ruined by yesterday's excitement. While she tried on one after another, she noticed that Mr. Darcy was indulging his young sister in a similar pursuit. Afterward, Mr. Gardiner teasingly insisted on a stop at the bookseller's as a reward for his patience at the milliner's.
Elizabeth browsed on her own for a time, eagerly exploring titles her father was not interested in. Meryton's circulating library gave her quite enough novels to enjoy, but her collection of other works was growing, due to the fond respect of the village's bookseller for a young lady who wished to read.
Mr. Darcy approached her, but he stood nearby in silence for a few moments. Lizzy hazarded a glance at him and offered a small smile. He looked at the shelf where her hand rested. "Poetry, Miss Bennet?"
"Yes. I fear I did not bring enough to read when we came here."
He gave her a curious smile. "My father always thought young ladies were not prone to read enough."
"I read more than my mother would like and less than my father would prefer," she said rather pertly.
He looked at the books again and plucked one from an upper shelf. "Have you read Coleridge or Wordsworth, Miss Bennet?"
She shook her head. "I cannot say that I have."
"Then let me recommend this wholeheartedly," he replied, handing the book to her.
They spoke a while longer, walking slowly towards the front of the store. The poets had lived in the Lake District, not too far from the Darcys' home in Derbyshire. From there it was easy to interrogate him about his home county, and he spoke freely of the wildness and beauty to be found in the north.
"You make me jealous, sir," Lizzy said, laughing a little at herself. "I long to see more of the country."
"Perhaps you shall," he replied. "Now, your book, madam. I believe we are ready to make our purchases and go."
He held out his hand, but she stared at him in wonder. "Sir, I–"
"Miss Bennet, I insist," he said. "I have spoken with your uncle, and he agreed that under the circumstances, he will allow me to make this gift to you. I must do something to repay you."
She wanted to protest his highhandedness – her family might be insignificant compared to his, but she could afford a book – but there was warmth in his expression, and that stilled her tongue. He was not doing this to impose on her, but to thank her. Wordlessly, she passed him the book.
When he returned it to her that evening, she found it slightly altered. In a strong, even hand, he had written a note on the endpaper.
For EB, with my undying gratitude.
FD
Though both families had other acquaintance in Ramsgate, the two parties found themselves passing more than half their time with one another over the next three weeks. Days were almost never spent within doors unless it rained. Even then, Darcy could usually find his way to Norris Street, leaving his sister behind in the capable hands of her governess to practice the pianoforte.
One memorable evening was spent at his lodgings, with Miss Bennet seated with Georgiana at the instrument, the pair of them playing unpracticed duets. Miss Bennet's playing was by no means extraordinary, but her way of laughing at herself for her mistakes made her performance one of the most delightful things Darcy had ever witnessed. Once, she looked up, smiling, and caught his gaze quite by accident. The joyful abandon in her eyes took him off-guard like the sudden thrust of a foil. Even as he smiled back at her faintly, he began to feel the danger he was in.
He liked her very much, but she was too poor, too far below his station, and above all, she was too young. They both were. Though the master of Pemberley could certainly afford a wife, there was no reason to rush such things. The next year he would go to London for the Season, joining his cousins Mallory and Fitzwilliam on what Mallory called the auction block. The pair of them, earl's sons, had managed to avoid being trapped in miserable marriages thus far. Darcy would have to stay close and learn how to avoid the schemes of young women whose only occupation was to find a husband.
The thought wearied him. He had only spent one full Season in London as an adult, and then he had not yet come into his inheritance. The fawning ladies had been suffocating when he was the heir; how much worse would they be for the master? At school he had had a reputation for being stuffy and proud, but the press of strangers unnerved him and he retreated to formality like a shield. He shuddered to think what a few Seasons would do to him.
Yet from a pretty country girl with fine eyes, he could not keep his thoughts. Nor could he explain his fascination, even to himself.
Before long Georgiana was sent to bed, having stayed up later than usual on account of Miss Bennet. Darcy took her place on the bench to turn pages as Miss Bennet continued to play alone. "It will not be long before your sister has surpassed my talent at this instrument," she remarked.
"Your playing is lovely, Miss Bennet."
"Let us not mince words, sir; my playing is adequate," she contradicted. "One master told me my greatest talent was in improvising through the difficult passages."
On the other side of the room, Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat. "Might I be bold enough to ask what you are talking of, Lizzy?"
Darcy knew the question was more aimed at him, though addressed to her. "I am wondering at your niece, Mr. Gardiner," he answered. "Did you know that she is incapable of accepting a compliment?"
"Mr. Darcy!" she cried, fingers stopping on the keys while her cheeks turned a lovely pink.
It was fortunate for Darcy that the Gardiners both laughed. "I tried to tell her tonight how pretty she looks," Mrs. Gardiner said, "but she would only demur and remind me that her sister Jane is first in beauty."
Darcy caught himself before he could say aloud that he greatly desired to see this Jane Bennet, for he strongly doubted Elizabeth's claim.
He was in some considerable danger, he admitted to himself while the lady at his side resumed playing. But he could not seem to pull himself away.
Their third week of acquaintance closed with an assembly. It must be stated that Miss Bennet was far more excited about the prospect of dancing than Mr. Darcy, who abhorred the activity. In fact, since the event would take him away from his sister, he might not have attended at all had it not been for the lady in question. For her sake, he would come, he would dance, and he might even enjoy himself.
Lizzy's apprehensions were of a different kind. While the maid and her aunt helped her dress, she could not but wonder if Mr. Darcy would ask her to dance. She knew better than to lift her hopes to such a man. He had been very attentive these few weeks, but that he might think of her! It was too much to presume.
A few days after he gave her the book, he asked if she had had the opportunity to start it. She had not had the courage to confess that she had read it through twice already, but they had a very comfortable conversation about the work. Indeed, he had smiled when she disagreed with him on some points and eagerly chased her logic, looking for a fault. It was somewhere in that conversation that she realized how very different this young man was than any other she had met before; and she began to fear that his forthright, clever mind would spoil her for her marriage prospects in the years to come.
There was one episode to mar her opinion of him, however, and it was all that kept her from a deeper attachment than was wise. Her uncle had letters of business one day which could not be put off and Darcy had business of his own, so Mrs. Gardiner had accompanied the girls to a menagerie. There they were met with an old acquaintance of the Darcy family, Mr. George Wickham. Georgiana was thrilled to see him, and he was delighted to make the acquaintance of her new friends. He charmed Mrs. Gardiner with many fond mentions of Lambton, and Lizzy found him altogether agreeable. Mr. Darcy would no doubt be happy to meet with such an old friend here in Ramsgate.
But that was not the case. Wickham accompanied them out of the menagerie, and a few streets away they were overtaken by Darcy himself. After very cold greetings for them, he told Georgiana to stay with Mrs. Gardiner while he had a word with his old friend.
They stood well out of earshot; Lizzy could not help but watch the two men. She had not yet seen Mr. Darcy angry, but there was no denying that he was. And for what cause? Mr. Wickham's accounting of his history with the family was all genial, and to Georgiana he had shown nothing but affection, affection obviously reciprocated. It puzzled Lizzy exceedingly, and when Darcy rejoined them alone, his refusal to answer even the most basic inquiries angered her. For the rest of the day she would not speak to him.
On the day following, he was warmer towards her, provoking her to better civility, but she could not reconcile the event to herself. He was by turns hot and cold, and she wondered which was the real Fitzwilliam Darcy; especially if the one she had grown so fond of was only a mask he wore.
Her head counseled caution to her heart, and it was a struggle to remember when she saw Mr. Darcy that evening, coming towards her and Uncle Gardiner. "Mr. Gardiner, Miss Bennet!" he greeted. The men bowed, Lizzy curtsied, and Darcy continued, "Is Mrs. Gardiner here? I hope she is not unwell."
"My wife decided to stay with our children tonight, sir," Mr. Gardiner replied. "I come to escort Lizzy."
Polite inquiries dispensed with, Darcy turned to Elizabeth and asked for the honor of the first set. He looked disappointed when she declined him, but at her side her uncle chuckled at them. "Oh, Lizzy, dance with the gentleman. You may have promised me the first set but I will not hold you to your word. It is a younger man's task to open the assembly with the prettiest girl in the room."
There was hardly time to blush, for the musicians were striking up their instruments and the dancers were gathering on the floor. There was only time to take the hand Mr. Darcy offered and follow him into the dance.
Through their set, she was too flustered to think of anything to say. Mr. Darcy was a quiet man by nature but tonight he was absolutely silent, though his eyes might have told her much if she had had the courage to look. While she cursed her luck at turning into a simpleton now of all times, he was more agreeably employed, thinking that the blush she seemed unable to conquer made her more alluring than ever.
He took her hand and led her back to her uncle when their set was completed. They had walked through half of Ramsgate side by side for weeks, but now Lizzy felt too conscious of the honor to enjoy it. The gentleman escorting her was no longer just the friend she had made on the seashore. He was the handsomest man in the room, master of his fate, and far beyond her reach.
Her uncle was not to dance with her at all that evening. He was pleased to see her favored with so many requests from the young men in the room, but it was Mr. Darcy who concerned him. That gentleman danced with none other the entire evening. To Mr. Gardiner's keen observation, Darcy was drawn to Lizzy in a way that seemed to catch even himself off-guard. Though they were to leave Ramsgate before long, Gardiner felt he must ask the young man what his intentions were, and soon. He did not want to see Lizzy's heart broken.
He was not privy to all of Lizzy's interactions in the assembly hall that evening. She danced once with Mr. Wickham, which Darcy half-heartedly tried to prevent. Lizzy was confused by the interaction she witnessed, and with a disappointed look at her friend, let the other man lead her to one of the refreshment tables.
Later Gardiner would regret with all his might that he allowed himself to be distracted by the arrival of an old schoolfellow. Some minutes passed before he looked for his niece again, and a few minutes more before the panic set in at not finding her. Darcy was at his side before long. "Sir, have you seen Miss Bennet or Wickham?"
"Who is Wickham?"
"A – an acquaintance of mine. I fear he is not to be trusted."
The words hit Gardiner like cold water. "I have not seen her in some minutes."
He turned to the corridors, Darcy in the other direction. It would not be long before some thought they heard a woman scream, and others saw the illustrious Mr. Darcy emerging from the secluded gardens with a sobbing young lady in his arms, whom he did not return to her relations. The rumors would be known to all at the assembly long before the evening was over.
The truth was in some ways simpler and in others more complex than the rumors besmirching both their names that night. Miss Bennet, though delighting in such an assembly, had wanted a moment to herself after her dance with Mr. Wickham. She was vexed indeed with Mr. Darcy's treatment of her partner, and after she had had some punch, she stepped outside and into the gardens to clear her head. By the time she saw Wickham following her, it was too late.
His intentions towards her were clear, and not at all honorable. When she cried out for help, he struck her across the mouth. But Lizzy was quick and surefooted, and had it not been for a loose cobble in her path, she would have made good her escape and gone home without a whisper about her. Her ankle twisted, however, and she fell. A pair of hands tried to help her up and she fought against them, until a voice spoke her name and she looked up into the face of Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Wickham came upon them a moment later, but at the sight of Darcy he fled. For a moment Lizzy wondered if her savior would abandon her there on the cobblestones. He stayed, though, and gently helped her from the ground. "Are you well, Miss Bennet?" he asked.
"No," she whispered. "I believe I shall be, but not now."
For a few moments they stood in silence, Darcy too angry and too unhappy to speak, while Lizzy struggled with tears. When they attempted to leave that place, she discovered her ankle was too tender to bear her weight, and soon she found herself in Darcy's arms, being borne across the gardens to the carriages outside the gates. With the pain of standing relieved, Lizzy could no longer keep from crying.
Her uncle joined them after a quarter of an hour, looking grave. The three rode in Darcy's carriage back to Norris Street, where Gardiner flatly refused to let Darcy repeat the service he had provided in the gardens. Once Lizzy was situated on a sofa in the parlor and Mrs. Gardiner was attending her, he said to the younger man, "I will speak to you in the study. Now."
Darcy was in no mood to be ordered about, but Gardiner's tone did not allow a refusal. He followed the other man and braced himself for what was to come. "Every tongue in that assembly is clucking about you chasing my niece into the gardens and carrying her off in tears!" the man all but shouted. "What sort of scoundrel are you?"
Darcy fought for calm. "I found her with Wickham hard upon her heels, sir," he replied. "I believe he was trying to force himself upon Miss Bennet. It would not be the first time he has done so."
To Gardiner's inquiry, Darcy was forced to relate his history with the young man, how his father's favor for the boy had spoiled him and made him feel entitled to all that Darcy had. His exploits at Cambridge Darcy did not have the stomach to repeat, but he gave the other man to understand the danger his niece had been in.
"I must send for her father," Gardiner said wearily. "Her good name is compromised, and Bennet will never forgive me." In a stronger voice, and more towards Darcy, he added, "You realize that it was your name, not Wickham's, which everyone was bandying about before we left?"
Feeling a little weak, Darcy sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands.
Thomas Bennet came to Ramsgate as swiftly as may be imagined. His brother's express had sparked all manner of terrors in his imagination, and he would not rest until he had seen his Lizzy safe and the scoundrel who had imposed on her punished. The first wish was easily granted, for the girl was waiting for him in the parlor when he arrived late, two nights after the fateful assembly. She was pale, but she was whole; the rest he could pray for later.
The second wish seemed within his grasp as well, for the rake who had compromised his child was sitting in the study of his brother's lodgings. Fitzwilliam Darcy was undoubtedly a fine man by society's standards, but Thomas' anger against him would not be easily assuaged.
The young man acquitted himself tolerably well, though Thomas was irritated with Gardiner for saying so much in Darcy's favor. The boy explained that he had sent men to find Wickham but had not traced him beyond London. He told how fear for Lizzy's safety had propelled him to search for her, and lastly he apologized for the rumors his deeds had incited.
"But the fact remains," Thomas said, "that my daughter, my dearest, cleverest child, has been compromised."
"I know, sir," Darcy replied. His hands were clasped behind his back and his chin was high, but his voice betrayed his anxiety. "I have thought of little else these two days. I am prepared to do what I must."
Thomas' heart sank, even though he knew this must be the outcome. This was all happening too suddenly.
"Brother, he is a good man, and a true friend to Lizzy," Gardiner put in. "I believe his intentions were all that is good that night, despite the outcome."
On most matters he was willing to trust his wife's brother, but on this he needed more. He turned to the young man and said, "I cannot bear the thought of her in an indifferent marriage. Please, tell me you have some respect for her."
The boy's color rose as he answered. "She is one of the most interesting people I have ever had the pleasure to meet," he replied haltingly. "I am... fond of her, very fond. Were we both a few years older, I – I might have offered for her on pleasanter terms than these."
"And you can provide for her?"
"I will have my solicitor draw up the settlement papers as soon as I am in London again, but I would not have you worry about that. My estate is a prosperous one. She will want for nothing."
Thomas wondered if that was really true, but he supposed the matter was moot. His permission he could not in good conscience withhold.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth waited in the next room.
There was something very unfair in not being allowed to be part of the conversation that would decide her fate. Even Mr. Darcy was involved, and she had only known him three weeks! She trusted him, of course, and he had been the one to save her from Mr. Wickham, but it did not seem right to have so little voice when it was her reputation and her life.
The door across the corridor opened, and Elizabeth closed her eyes. The moment had come. She heard the steps of the men and their hushed conversation. The voices stopped, and she looked up to see that only Mr. Darcy had entered the drawing room. Her father and uncle waited outside, in the darkness of the corridor.
She did not rise to greet him; he said nothing about it. "Miss Bennet, where is Mrs. Gardiner?" he asked instead.
"One of my cousins required her attention," Elizabeth explained. "She will be back down shortly."
Darcy nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to pace slowly. She wondered if he was waiting for proper chaperonage to speak to her, but with her male relations at the door, that could hardly be the issue. She decided she would start the conversation herself. "Mr. Darcy, what has become of Mr. Wickham?"
His jaw tightened at the sound of that name. "My men were unable to trace him past London," he replied. "No doubt he is hiding there. But I must say, Miss Bennet, that even if we could find him, I could not in good conscience allow any young lady to be forced into a marriage with that scoundrel."
"Then what am I to do? My reputation is all I have! Am I simply to hope that this story cannot find its way to Hertfordshire?"
"No," he said, very gently. "Besides, it is not his name linked with yours."
He stopped before her and took her hands as they rested on the table, near some forgotten embroidery, and then he was kneeling down. Lizzy shook her head. She knew not how Mr. Darcy had been caught up in the rumors instead of Mr. Wickham, but she could not support this. "Sir, you did nothing wrong," she protested. "I cannot ask this of you."
His gaze was so intense that she could not look away. "Madam, you are not asking this of me."
His hands were warm, she thought with some distraction. Wickham's had been cold.
"Miss Bennet," Darcy said, then corrected himself. "Elizabeth, will you marry me? Please, will you be my wife?"
She bit her lip, fighting the strongest urge to weep that she had ever felt. Perhaps Darcy did not even realize it, but by kneeling and asking, he had given her, if nothing else, the illusion that she had a choice. She could not say no, but it meant the world to be allowed to say yes.
She nodded and whispered her acceptance, and shed a few tears when he bowed his head to kiss her hands, still in her lap. It was almost unbearably intimate, especially with her uncle and father looking on.
That evening Aunt Gardiner came into her room and sat upon the bed with her. "I know this is not ideal, Lizzy," she said kindly as she helped plait her hair. "I know this is not what young girls dream of. But I believe you will be able to respect each other. We have not known him long, but we have been with him almost daily, in a far more familiar manner than you might meet a suitor at a dance or a card party."
"I know." Lizzy could not find the words to say the rest of what she felt. She did not doubt that he liked her, but if her honor had not been at stake, she worried that he would never have thought her suitable as a wife. Now his life was changing as much as hers, and not at his choosing. "This is all my fault," she murmured. "If only I had not stepped outside! If only I had not danced with Mr. Wickham!"
"Lizzy," Aunt said, more forcefully. She took Lizzy by the shoulders and turned her around. "This was not your fault. That villain tried to take advantage of you. Nothing you did could possibly provoke him into such an action. Let us merely be thankful Mr. Darcy found you when he did."
At the name of the man to whom she was now engaged, Lizzy burst into tears. For two days she had known nothing but tension and strain over the issue; now that the scandal had its resolution, she cried herself to sleep.
She was not one to pine a loss, however, and when Mr. Darcy arrived the next morning, there was little evidence of an unhappy night. Elizabeth gave him a small, almost shy smile when he and Georgiana were admitted. The two were in their traveling clothes, and refused to sit when asked. "We cannot stay long," Darcy told Mrs. Gardiner. "I must to London. I am sorry not to keep our engagement with you for dinner this evening, but – but you are too good to resent me."
"Of course, Mr. Darcy," Aunt Gardiner replied. "I trust we will meet again very soon in any case."
"Indeed. Send word when you return to town. Georgiana and I will be happy to have you dine with us there."
Mrs. Gardiner bowed her head in thanks. Lizzy had said nothing since the Darcys entered, but her aunt sensed that the two young people would want a moment of privacy. Fortunately she had the perfect excuse. "Miss Darcy, would you accompany me a moment? I believe you left a book of songs here a few days ago."
With nothing more complicated than that, Elizabeth found herself alone with her betrothed. "You look well this morning, sir," she said to him, though she did not add how agitated he looked as he fidgeted with his hat.
He managed a wry smile. "We must come up with something else for you to call me. 'Sir' sounds rather dreadful now."
"And now who cannot take a compliment?" she asked pertly.
At that he actually laughed. Lizzy remembered how oddly proud she felt the first time she provoked that from him.
"Elizabeth, I – I trust you know why we are leaving."
She nodded. "We will be leaving ourselves in a few days. We never intended to stay above a month." She bit her lip for a moment. "Have you told Georgiana yet?"
"No. I will tell her today. She will be overjoyed at the news, and I thought it best to shield you from a little girl's first enthusiasm."
Lizzy thought of her mother and what her reaction would be. At least Georgiana had the excuse of youth.
The silence stretched out for a moment, until Darcy stepped closer and set his hat aside. "Last night," he said, frowning, "last night, Lizzy, you cried when you said you would marry me. I would know if those were tears of regret."
She shook her head. "I hardly know how to explain what I felt then, but I worry that you will regret me."
It was a bold statement to make, and she trembled at his silence. He surprised her, however, taking her hand and drawing it up to his lips. He had kissed her hand the day they met, but she had worn gloves and the touch had been fleeting. This posture, where their eyes were locked and she could feel the warmth of his mouth while he lingered, felt far more like a lover's gesture than before.
He held her hand between both of his while they simply watched each other. Nothing was spoken aloud. Elizabeth knew not what might have transpired had they been left to themselves much longer, but her relations decided to make an appearance in the morning room then. "Ah, Mr. Darcy," said her uncle. "I gather you are come to say goodbye."
"Georgiana and I leave at any moment, sir," Darcy replied, drawing away from Elizabeth. She, for her part, did not miss the dark look her father was sending in their direction. "But we could not depart without calling here, not after all the hospitality you have shown us."
Mr. Gardiner let out a short laugh, as though he very much doubted Darcy's assertion that hospitality had anything to do with it.
Darcy moved then to Mr. Bennet, and Elizabeth held her breath without thinking of it. They had had supper together the night before, after Darcy made his proposals, but her father had said next to nothing through the entire meal. Darcy extended his hand to him. "Sir, I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you in town soon," he said, sounding nervous again. "I would be happy to call on you at the Gardiners', but perhaps you would rather come to my home? My father left an extensive library both in London and at Pemberley, and Miss Elizabeth tells me you are a great reader."
It was exactly the thing to tempt Lizzy's father into liking the young man, and he nearly accepted the offer on the spot. When her intended pressed her hand one last time before leaving, she was able to offer him a more brilliant smile than any seen on her face since that horrible night.
It was only much later that she realized neither of them had actually said anything about what they might or might not regret.
Mr. Bennet called on Mr. Darcy the morning after the settlement papers were drawn up. It had not been lost on Darcy that Elizabeth's father had wanted to know how he felt about her before asking if he could afford to marry. Elizabeth was clearly this man's favorite child. It was fortunate for all involved that Darcy did like her, but he was not above using his considerable wealth in an attempt to curry favor.
The papers were signed with little ceremony; an announcement of the engagement would be in the papers by week's end. Bennet rose from his chair, surveyed the library, and said, "I suppose you will be wanting to see Lizzy now."
"I would like to accompany you back to the Gardiners', but I must call on my aunt," he replied. "If she finds out from the papers that I am to marry, she will never forgive me."
Bennet chuckled and sent him on his way, announcing his intention to take full advantage of the library.
The earl and countess of Matlock lived on the other side of the square, and as the day was fine, Darcy walked across to the house. He had arranged this call, so he was unsurprised to find his cousin Mallory waiting with Lady Matlock. "Darcy!" his aunt greeted when he entered her drawing room. "Your return from Ramsgate took us quite by surprise. I thought Andrew told you to stay no less than six weeks."
"I think he has confused Ramsgate for Bath," Darcy replied, with a glare at his oldest cousin. "But our return was somewhat precipitous."
"I have never known you to do anything precipitously," Aunt Matlock said, looking concerned.
"I hope you will be content with my news, Aunt, if not pleased."
"Come, Darcy," said his cousin. "You talk as though you are to be married."
"I am, Mal."
The room turned very quiet, as neither the viscount nor the countess could believe what they heard. "You are to be married?" Lady Matlock repeated.
He nodded, and began to tell them how Elizabeth had saved Georgiana's life, how he had befriended her and the Gardiners, and finally how he had helped her escape Wickham only to find himself labeled the rake. "Oh, Darcy," his aunt said, half fondly and half in exasperation. "I always thought it would be Richard caught up in something like this."
"Be thankful it was not. Miss Bennet has neither fortune nor consequence to speak of. My cousin could not afford to do the honorable thing."
"Is she at least pretty?" Mallory asked. That was, after all, the only acceptable reason for a man of consequence to marry so far beneath himself.
"Yes, quite. Aunt, I believe you will like her. She is very clever, and I know how you detest the simpering type."
"True. I imagine she is in town to buy her wedding clothes?"
"Yes, along with her elder sister. They and their father are staying with the Gardiners."
"I would like to meet her. I suspect the poor thing has no idea what she is getting into, no matter how clever she is. Would tomorrow for tea be feasible?"
"They are to have tea at my home today, if you would be able to come."
"Ask your Miss Bennet first. Normally I would have no compunction about it, but I like you, Darcy, and I want your wife to like me."
As Darcy smiled, his cousin leaned forward. "Will there be room for me as well?" Mallory asked. "I would like to meet this paragon of cleverness."
His mother swatted his knee with her fan. "I want her to like us, Andrew."
"Oh, Lizzy," Jane said, clutching Elizabeth's hand as the carriage stopped in front of Darcy's house in Cavendish Square. "Lizzy, have you ever seen anything so grand?"
"Yes, there were two or three grander on the last street," Lizzy said, hoping her laughter sounded less nervous than she felt.
Jane was right; it was one of the most impressive houses she had ever seen. Of this she was to be mistress! And a great estate in Derbyshire! The foyer of the house was larger than the dining room at Longbourn. It was absurd.
They were soon admitted to one of probably several sitting rooms, where Darcy and his sister were waiting with a man about his age and a lady old enough to be their mother. Both the strangers were dressed in the finest clothes Elizabeth had ever seen. Darcy bowed to his guests and introduced them all to the countess of Matlock and her son, Viscount Mallory.
Bows and curtsies were made all around and the tea service was brought in. Elizabeth found herself seated between Darcy and Lady Matlock. When Darcy had asked her if she would be willing to meet his aunt, she had not expected this woman. She had expected someone more severe, more rigorously fashionable. Lady Matlock had probably been called a great beauty in her youth and she was certainly a handsome woman now, but she was also rather matronly, and she looked at Elizabeth with some evident amusement.
Lord Mallory was more decidedly fashionable, but his manners were easy and his attention to Elizabeth all that was proper. He looked at Jane more, but Elizabeth would never begrudge a man that.
Lady Matlock offered to take the ladies around the house after tea, an offer swiftly accepted. Jane and Aunt Gardiner found something in the library to hold their attention, letting the countess and Elizabeth have something approaching privacy. "Darcy has told me of the circumstances of your engagement," Lady Matlock said, to Elizabeth's astonishment. "I see you are surprised. My dear Miss Elizabeth, he is a gentleman and you are a gentleman's daughter, but your engagement will pique the curiosity of many. We may all hope that the rumors will die out in Ramsgate once the happy news is made public, but I have never thought that ignorance gave anyone protection, least of all us ladies."
"But it would be best if the story did not spread much further," Elizabeth managed.
"Of course, my dear. Who among your acquaintance knows?"
"My uncle and aunt, my sister Jane, and my father, of course."
"Your mother does not know?"
"No, Papa and I – we agreed that it would be best if she only knew of the engagement, not its circumstances." Elizabeth colored as she continued. "Forgive me, for I know this will make me sound like an ungrateful and disrespectful child, but my mother is not the cleverest of women, nor the most circumspect. If she knew what happened to me, I am not certain she would keep it to herself. No, it is best she knows I am to marry, and nothing of why."
During this short, frank speech, which caused its speaker much embarrassment, Lady Matlock could not help feeling a swell of sympathy for the young lady. To be in such a position in the first place was terrible. She had been lucky that Darcy's name and not that worthless Wickham's had been connected with hers. To be without a mother sensible enough to protect her from the viciousness of society after such an attack was too much to expect her to bear.
Lady Matlock had liked this young lady during tea; the girl showed respect without being the least bit servile. Darcy was right about her. Her manners were not as refined as one would expect in town, but her independence was rather charming, and her clever mind meant that Darcy would never be bored with her. For Darcy's sake, Lady Matlock would have offered her assistance with any number of things, but now she wanted to help Elizabeth for her own sake.
She suspected an embrace would be unwelcome now, but she patted the young lady's arm affectionately. "Your aunt and sister," she said. "Are you close to them? Can you confide in them if you need to?"
"Oh, yes," Elizabeth replied, smiling for a moment. "Aunt Gardiner is very dear to me, and Jane is the best of friends."
"I am glad to hear it. I hope someday you may count me as a confidante as well. But in the meantime, I want you to call me Aunt Matlock as soon as you are comfortable."
The tour recommenced, and afterward Lady Matlock brought the girls and their aunt back to the sitting room, where the men joined them once more. The countess issued an invitation for them and Mr. Gardiner to dine with them the next day; plans for shopping had already been made for the day after. It was a clear sign to Darcy that Elizabeth had gained his aunt's approval. That would make at least one aspect of this easier.
His aunt and cousin soon departed, and the Bennets stayed not long after. In the bustle of retrieving bonnets and such, Darcy managed a moment alone in the foyer with Elizabeth. "There is something I would give you," he began hurriedly, knowing their privacy would not last.
"More poetry, Mr. Darcy?" she asked in obvious amusement.
"No, but you must know that you are welcome to everything my library has to offer, and I will never resent your adding anything to it." He shook his head, realizing she had diverted him from his task. "No, I wish to give you this."
He pulled the small box from his pocket and handed it to her. "This was my mother's. I want you to have it, if you like it." He'd retrieved it from the bank vault that morning, after leaving his aunt's. Many of the Darcy jewels would need to be retrieved, as Mrs. Darcy would find use for them.
She gasped at the sight of two pearls in an offset band, with sapphires trailing around the ring. When he considered what to give his bride, he immediately settled on this piece. The white and blue reminded him of his first glimpse of her by the sea, but there was more to it than that. "Do you like it?" he asked, feeling suddenly nervous.
"It's beautiful," she breathed. "Are – are you sure you want me to have it?"
"You will have this and much more, Elizabeth," he replied with a small smile. "But I would like you to wear this." He took the ring from its box and slid it onto her finger. Her hands were so small compared to his. "I assume that you, like all young ladies, are accomplished in the art of interpreting jewelry."
He said it lightly, but he hoped she understood what he conveyed with the jewels. Sapphires for faithfulness. Pearls for innocence.
When he was brave enough to lift his gaze, he saw tears forming in her eyes. It might be the only time he was ever glad to see her start to cry, for he knew then that she understood.
Others were coming, so he pressed his handkerchief into her hand and stepped back. It was not until much later that he realized she had taken his handkerchief as well as the ring, and what might have once seemed an insupportable presumption now only made him laugh.
At dinner the next day, Elizabeth was seated next to Darcy's uncle. The earl of Matlock could not claim to be as amiable as his wife or his son, but he did show her much courtesy over the course of the meal. They began by talking of her education, and while he was a little taken aback by its informality, he could find no fault with her mind. His wife had told him to expect a clever girl, but he had not anticipated such a ready wit.
He was still worried that this girl had somehow inveigled his nephew into a compromising situation. It was simply unlike Darcy to be so careless. Though a gentleman's daughter, Elizabeth Bennet was essentially penniless, without a connection to her name. Neither beauty nor accomplishment marked her; only her uncommon intelligence set her apart. Darcy probably would choose cleverness before connection if given an ultimatum, but if not for Ramsgate, he could have found a lady who had both.
He noticed with some consternation that his elder son gave most of his attention to the elder sister. Jane Bennet was undeniably beautiful, and Andrew liked pretty girls. The attention probably was not serious, but Lord Matlock disliked the impression his son was giving to a girl whose only claim would be her sister Mrs. Darcy.
Darcy lingered after the guests had left, and Lord Matlock poured them both something stronger than port. "She may be quicker than you, Darcy," he said to his nephew.
To his surprise, Darcy laughed, something Lord Matlock hadn't heard since his brother Darcy's passing. The boy had never been sociable, but he'd always been happy before his father died. Anne's death three years ago had been a blow, but he'd had his studies and his sister to keep his mind occupied. After he inherited Pemberley and found himself responsible for Georgiana, he had become distant, even with the family. If society had seen him this last year, he would have been labeled cold.
There was warmth in his laughter now. Matlock had observed playfulness in his nephew's manner towards Miss Elizabeth at times during the evening, and he began to wonder what exactly had transpired between them before Wickham's unfortunate incursion on their lives. It seemed impossible that Darcy should have formed an attachment in so short a time, but absent that possibility, the earl was left puzzled.
Darcy went home a little while later, taking Andrew with him, and Matlock searched out his wife. He found Alice in her sitting room, writing a letter, but she looked up when he entered. "James?"
"You were right about Miss Elizabeth," he said, coming to sit beside her desk. "She is remarkably clever."
"Yes, equal to Darcy in that," Alice replied. "In other respects she is his opposite, but that will help him, I think."
"Do you think we have a full understanding of what passed between them at Ramsgate?" James asked. "He is so at ease with her, so eager to please her. I would not have thought their acquaintance so brief based on what I observed tonight."
"From what he and Georgiana have told me, it sounds as though he was drawn to her from the very beginning of their acquaintance. The service she rendered in rescuing my niece would gain his gratitude, of course, but she is so unusual a young lady that I do not think he could help being intrigued." She watched her husband closely. "You do not think her a fortune hunter, do you?"
"No, I will trust your judgment on her character; you have spoken with her more intimately than I. But others will think so."
She could not deny that, but it was hardly an unusual accusation in town. "People thought I was a fortune hunter, my dear."
"As I recall, you were," he teased, and was treated to a look of mock outrage. "Protest all you like, madam, but you were singularly fixed upon my friend Blakeley until you quite literally fell into my arms at Lady Franklin's ball. Nearly ruined my friendship with his Grace in the process."
"Well," said she, feigning thoughtfulness, "given how rapidly his hair retreated and his girth expanded, I believe I made the better choice."
"It did not hurt to learn how much I was actually worth, did it?"
"Of course not. You were far wealthier than his Grace."
She held a serious expression only for a moment; then she burst into laughter. James joined her, before silencing her with a kiss. "You are truly not worried about Darcy, my love?"
"Indeed I am not," Alice replied, touching his face. "I think they will find happiness with each other soon enough; as I have with you."
Such a tender statement could not be met with any but the most passionate response, and Lady Matlock's letter was quite forgot.
The next day, Alice went shopping with the Miss Bennets and their aunt, so James went across the square to see his nephew. He was becoming reconciled to the match as something more than what had necessitated it, but they still had business to do. "I could, if you like, look over the marriage settlement," he offered, when they sat down together in Darcy's study. "I have some recent experience, what with Rachel's marriage last winter."
"I thank you, but the papers are signed," Darcy replied. "Besides, I should think that your experience with Cousin Rachel's marriage would have made you more useful to Mr. Bennet than myself."
Quite suddenly it occurred to Matlock that he was not seeing Miss Elizabeth's influence on his nephew, but his sister Anne's. Anne, as a young lady, had loved a good debate and had always been quick to point out the absurdities around her. Age and marriage had softened her a little; Fitzwilliam could not remember his mother that way, though he did know her as a lively conversationalist and an excellent wit. Anne had always been proud of her boy, and spent many hours giving him riddles and such to expand his mind beyond what his lessons provided. When he debated at Cambridge, it was Anne and not George who was excessively pleased. Matlock had forgot that. Darcy was in temper so much like his father that it was easy to miss those whispers of Anne.
Darcy had not found a copy of his mother, but perhaps he had found echoes of her.
Thoughts of one sister naturally led Matlock to the other. "Have you thought much of what you will tell your other aunt?"
Darcy gave him a pointed look. "You normally handle unpleasant communications with Lady Catherine."
"Darcy."
The younger man sighed. "No, I do not know. I know I ought to tell her before the announcement is in the papers; it would be rude not to. But I cannot say I am eager to tell her when I am only half a day away from her wrath."
Matlock felt a twinge of guilt at the way the boy worded his concern. Catherine would indeed be furious, but he wanted to soften Darcy's feeling. "She will eventually accept that you were not going to submit your will to hers, simply out of love for your mother."
"Cousin Anne and I would never suit," Darcy replied, with the air of a man who had given the matter some thought. "I would have sooner married Rachel, and that was equally impossible." He seemed to remember to whom he was speaking, and his color rose. "Forgive me, Uncle, I meant nothing against Rachel. You know I love her dearly."
"Indeed, as much and in like manner as her brothers," Matlock agreed. "I should not have permitted it if you asked. No, Rachel is better off with John."
"And I am glad to have Beckett as my cousin as well as my old friend." Darcy turned curious. "How is Rachel? I should like to call on her, perhaps introduce Elizabeth to her, before we leave town."
"John sent me a note this morning to say she is improving. I would inquire before calling on them, but I am sure Rachel will be glad for a visit." Matlock said nothing more, not knowing if Beckett had shared the truth with his friend. Rachel carried a child now, and for a month she had been far too ill in the mornings to think about the long journey back to Derbyshire. John was hoping that in another week they would be able to leave London, for he was due back with his regiment in the north before the end of the month, and did not like to leave his wife in town. They would be separated enough without him abandoning her during this illness.
"I will," Darcy replied, "though I suppose that does not help us with Aunt Catherine."
"No, but she will live, no matter what we do."
On the morning of the Bennets' departure from London, Darcy went to Gracechurch Street alone to see them off. When they were gone, the Gardiners invited him in for breakfast with the family, and he agreed, feeling strange that he would not have Elizabeth's company.
He and his relations would follow the Bennets into Hertfordshire in a week's time, for Darcy still had business to conclude before bringing Elizabeth to her new home. They would come to London for a few days, and then travel north, to Pemberley. Darcy was giving some thought to a proper wedding trip, but after all that had happened, he did not think Lizzy would appreciate Weymouth or Brighton or Bath.
The little ones were up and at the table when Darcy came inside with their parents. They had grown accustomed to his presence in the last month, and after smiling at him, they both turned back to their breakfast as though there was nothing unusual in having him there too. Mrs. Gardiner gave him a small smile. "I hope you do not mind our informality."
"Not at all," he replied. "My sister is more than ten years my junior. I was very often her playmate when I was home from school."
"That must explain why Hannah likes you so well," Mr. Gardiner said. "Even Lizzy has difficulty getting more than three words out of her, but five minutes with you and she was letting you hold her favorite doll for her."
Darcy smiled with his friends, remembering Georgiana at that age, and thinking of the future. It might not be long before he had children of his own. The thought was daunting, even though he had always wished for a larger family himself.
Mr. Gardiner had to see to business before long, and after his departure, Mrs. Gardiner entrusted the girls to the care of their nurse for a little while. "Mr. Darcy, is there anything you would like to talk about?" she asked him, just as he was thinking he ought to leave.
There were many questions he had wanted to ask, but he was not sure he ought to. "That is kind of you, madam, but..."
She gave him a small smile. "Come and sit with me, Mr. Darcy. We will be family soon, and I know you must have questions."
He went with her into the next room and sat across from her, in front of the empty fire grate. After several minutes of awkward silence, he blurted out the most elemental question on his mind. "How does she fare, truly?"
"It is not in Lizzy's nature to despair," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "But in truth, this has affected her far more deeply than I think she would admit. She will recover soon enough, but you must be patient with her. Despite my sister Bennet's hopes of having her daughters married as soon as possible, I do not think Lizzy was thinking of matrimony as a near thing."
Darcy had not been thinking of marriage as imminent either, so there he could sympathize. "I wish I had done something different that night, Mrs. Gardiner," he said, through the tightness of his throat. "That she had not been put through this."
The lady smiled, not unkindly. "You will make a pretty pair, sir. She wanted to blame herself for your predicament."
He shook his head. "She did nothing wrong."
"I know, and she does too. But you understand what I mean, do you not? She smiles and laughs, but she feels acutely that she was wronged, and that you were caught up in all this when you deserved it no more than she."
Darcy nodded slowly, beginning to understand. "That night, when everything was settled," he said, choosing his words with some care, "she did not know that the rumors were about me."
"That, I fear, you must blame on Mr. Gardiner and myself," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "Lizzy never asked; she assumed that the rumors reflected the truth. My husband and I each assumed that the other had told her what was happening. We have both bitterly regretted that she was left in such misery for two days, thinking she would have no choice but to marry the villain who imposed on her."
A horrifying thought arose at her choice of words, and Darcy lifted his head to look at her. "Ma'am, should I know anything..."
Mrs. Gardiner looked conflicted. "I am not certain I am at liberty, sir."
"I will be her husband," he replied. "I will marry her regardless, but I think I need to know."
After a moment, she nodded. "Bear in mind, she did not tell me much detail. She was walking alone in the garden; Wickham caught sight of her there. She tried to return to the assembly before he caught up to her, but she did not move quickly enough. He restrained her by the shoulders, tried to touch her and kiss her, but she was able to escape him before any lasting harm could be done."
Darcy let out the breath he had been holding. "It was very good of you, sir, to agree to this marriage when you did not know this for certain," Mrs. Gardiner said. "Would you have asked her what Wickham had done?"
"I hardly know," he admitted. "To own the truth, I had not believed that he – that he violated her. But I had nothing but a few words from her and my own observation to base that upon. I – I am glad to know she escaped before he could... Forgive me. I hardly know what I speak. I am relieved to know her – her virtue, her innocence, were not taken from her."
With a piercing look, Mrs. Gardiner asked, "For her sake or yours?"
Darcy rose, walking over to look out the window. "For hers, because no woman deserves to be taken against her will," he said, but in honesty added, "and mine, because I would not know how to approach her as my wife, after that. I hardly know, even now."
Mrs. Gardiner offered him no empty assurances, no platitudes that he would know what to do. "Remember what she was before that night, sir," she said. "I do not think she has been altered forever by the experience. Give her time. She was your friend before; she will be your friend again."
"Time," he repeated, clasping his hands behind his back. "Two months ago my cousin was telling me to take Georgiana to Ramsgate, that it would do us both good. Now in two weeks, I shall be married."
Mrs. Gardiner came across the room then to look out at the busy street below. "Patience, then," she amended. "The one thing I envy my Quaker neighbors."
At that Darcy had to laugh, and felt for the first time that he truly understood the worth of this woman. She had relieved doubts he had not even come to articulate, and done so with grace. It was no wonder that Elizabeth loved this house so, and he felt certain that, with time, he would come to love it as well.
In London, Lizzy had too much occupation to spend all her time thinking about what she had got herself into. Though she had been in town to settle matters for her wedding and her married life, there she could try to forget what had happened and what was to come. Home would afford her no such luxury.
Darcy was to stay in town for another week after the Bennets returned to Longbourn. He and Lord Matlock had made remarks about needing to plan something about a dragon, but when Lizzy asked about it, Darcy told her it was nothing. She was fairly certain that Darcy bore no resemblance to St. George and that there were no dragons in Kent, but neither did it sound like something of no consequence.
She was, if she was honest, a little grateful that the Darcys would not come for a few more days. Mrs. Bennet's reaction to Lizzy was exactly what she would have expected, and she had known about the engagement for more than a week at that point. For an entire morning Lizzy heard nothing but "Mrs. Darcy!" and "What jewels, what carriages!" and "My dear, clever Lizzy!" Lizzy had never been dear in her mother's eyes, not like Lydia and Jane, and something in her resented the attention rather than appreciating it.
Mary, who had recently discovered a copy of Fordyce in their father's library, offered rather somber congratulations to her sister. Kitty wanted to hear everything, to know if being engaged was as romantic as she hoped. There Lizzy could at least show her the ring and tell her how it had been Darcy's mother's. Lydia, who was after all only twelve and still inclined to think of boys as the nasty creatures who pulled her hair in church, cared only that she would have a new dress to wear to Lizzy's wedding.
Jane, on the other hand, was conflicted. In London, their aunt had advised her to give her sister a little time to come to terms with events before questioning her. She had heard a very brief summary of events, but she was more than a little concerned about Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. Lizzy had written long letters from Ramsgate but rarely mentioned Mr. Darcy except in passing. Jane had been surprised when she joined the Gardiners in London and learned from them how much time they had spent with the Darcys. She very strongly suspected that Lizzy had developed tender feelings for the young man before the assembly, and perhaps was struggling with how to act, now that they were in an engagement of necessity.
The night before Darcy was to arrive at Longbourn, Jane came to Lizzy's bedchamber before getting ready for bed herself. She found her sister sitting on her bed, already in her nightclothes, holding a handsomely bound book. Lizzy had worried Jane in London. She had tried to appear cheerful about the enormous change coming to her life, but Jane knew her too well to miss the forced quality to her laughter, and how she looked forlorn when she thought no one was watching.
Lizzy looked up and offered a tired smile when Jane opened the door. "Does Mamma need me?"
"No, Lizzy, I wanted to speak to you." She sat beside her sister and indicated the book, which she had seen in Lizzy's hands in London. "Did you purchase that in Ramsgate?"
"Yes, but–" Lizzy stopped short, blushing. "I did not purchase it."
She opened the front cover and handed it to Jane. There Jane saw the inscription. "He gave it to me the day after we met," Lizzy explained. "My uncle gave him permission, as it was to thank me after what happened with Georgiana. I have never read a book and not told Papa about it, but what if he wishes to read it? I cannot have him know that I accepted a gift from a gentleman, especially after so little acquaintance."
It was not entirely proper, Jane knew, but Mr. Darcy had obtained permission. Lizzy could not be blamed for accepting the gift. But more unsettling was her apparent fear of their father finding out. "Lizzy, surely you do not think our father blames you for this."
"Of course he must, Jane," Lizzy replied, her eyes full of tears. "He has not spoken ten words together to me since we came home."
"Do you not think he may simply be sad to be losing you so soon?" Jane asked. "And perhaps he wishes to avoid Mamma's talk of wedding plans."
Lizzy laughed a little and leaned against Jane. "Perhaps. But Jane, I feel so awkward talking to him now. He never used to look so severe before."
Jane could not think of words to comfort, so she set her arm around her sister's shoulders instead. Lizzy dried her tears with a handkerchief that looked suspiciously masculine. Jane asked no questions.
Lizzy was calmer when Jane left; it was Jane who was, uncharacteristically, agitated. Instead of retiring as she had planned, she went back down the stairs to her father's library, where he was still perusing a text. He looked up from it in some surprise. "Jane," he said, "to what do I owe the honor?"
"I was just with Lizzy," she explained, clasping her hands to keep from fidgeting. She did not think this would be an easy conversation for either of them. "She thinks you blame her, Papa."
Mr. Bennet slowly closed his book, took off his glasses, and turned to face Jane fully. "She thinks I blame her?"
"You have hardly spoken to her since we came home, sir."
There was a long and terrible silence. "Perhaps she deserves some of the blame," her father said at length. "I have humored her in her solitary rambles here, but to step outside, unaccompanied, near so large a crowd of strangers – I did not think her so silly as that."
Jane was not made for this kind of confrontation, least of all with her father, but for her beloved sister she would attempt anything, risk any mortification. "Forgive me, Papa, but that is not kind," she said. "You might as well blame Mr. Darcy for not revealing his suspicions of Mr. Wickham's proclivities, or Uncle Gardiner for taking her to the assembly at all, or even me, for asking Lizzy to go to Ramsgate in my place."
"And where do you place the blame, daughter?" Mr. Bennet asked tersely.
"With the man who would have done her harm. Who else could deserve it?"
Her father's expression turned dark. "I am not convinced Mr. Darcy did not play some part in it."
Jane shook her head. "A man of his consequence could have earned Lizzy's affection and your approval. He had no reason to behave so dishonorably."
"I am not sure how often reason plays into such an event, Jane, but your point is well taken. Besides, if he did mean to gain her by some wicked plot, perhaps he would not have been so generous in the settlement papers. Your mother will have little to worry about once I am gone."
Jane did not know what to say to that, and after a few awkward moments, she moved towards the door. Her father stopped her. "Do you not have more remarks to make about my relations with my children?"
Lizzy would have heard the reproof for what it was, but Jane, artless Jane, only heard sincerity because she would never be less than sincere in a conversation like this. "Lydia is just as clever as Lizzy, Papa, but she lacks discipline."
At her father's startled look, Jane realized her mistake. "Oh, Papa! I did not–"
"Run along, Jane," her father said, taking up his book again. "I will consider what you have had to say."
Had her cause for interference been anything else, Jane would have escaped her father's library in shame. For Lizzy she would bear much more, but she did hope such a task would not be necessary for at least another ten years.
Over breakfast the next morning, Mr. Bennet exerted himself to speak with Lizzy. The latter was startled by this development; she might have suspected Jane if she were capable of suspecting Jane of anything. She was deeply grateful, however, and Jane was as well.
The rest of her morning did not pass as pleasantly. Mrs. Bennet was approaching hysterics over the arrival of their guests and the wedding only a week away. She blamed Lizzy for staying so long in London, for not insisting on a longer engagement, for having no compassion for her mother's nerves. Lizzy had to escape, and for the first time since Ramsgate, she went outside alone.
She stayed near the house, among the roses. It was there that Mr. Darcy found her an hour or two later, reading the book he had given her. For a moment he was struck all over again by the sight of her. Inside the house had been all chaos, too much for a man who spent so much of his time alone. He had been grateful to Jane when she offered to show him out to the garden, where Lizzy had retreated.
Her bonnet lay forgot at her feet, and the gentle breeze wafted her curls about her face as she read. She was frowning slightly, concentrating hard on the text before her. Darcy was loath to interrupt her, but her posture shifted with some awareness, and she looked up. She smiled to see him watching her, and she rose to greet him when he approached.
"Forgive me," she said. "I should have been in the house to welcome you."
"Do not be uneasy," he replied. "It is good to see you again."
"I am glad to see you arrived safely." She sat down again when he gestured to the bench, and he joined her. "Is Georgiana not with you?"
"She and your sister Catherine appear to have made instant friends. I am glad of it. She does not know enough girls her age." Elizabeth said nothing else, and Darcy found himself in the unusual position of having to forward a conversation with her. Her spirits were subdued, and he was anxious to know the cause. Eventually he thought to ask her about Hertfordshire, and there she opened up again, becoming more like the Elizabeth he remembered from Ramsgate.
Jane was not far away, providing them privacy and propriety at once, but when Darcy expressed an interest in a little wilderness not far from the formal garden, she did not follow them. He and Elizabeth had not often been alone like this. In Ramsgate, her aunt and uncle allowed them some latitude but were rarely out of earshot; in London, her father had hovered. It was as it ought to be, but he was glad to have this little freedom now. The rest of the week would surely be too busy, and he would not be alone with her again until they were married.
Perhaps that explained the silence they had lapsed into. Darcy would never regret doing his duty, as he firmly believed this marriage was, but he worried about his friend. She was barely seventeen; women twice her age had faltered with all the responsibility she was about to take on. He had come into his inheritance only a year ago, at such an early age that he had felt himself quite inadequate to the task.
He was worried about more than that, of course. For the last year Aunt Catherine had been making increasingly blunt remarks about his cousin Anne. Darcy liked his cousin, remembering pleasant visits to Rosings before the death of Sir Lewis and the decline in Anne's health, but he knew he could not feel for her what a man ought to feel for his wife.
But could he feel that for Elizabeth? She was pretty and lively and clever, and he liked her exceedingly well. His parents' marriage, however, had taught him the value of love between a husband and wife, and his independence meant he need not choose between his head and his heart. Or it had before Ramsgate. He had told himself once to put her out of his mind, but it had proved impossible. He could not name the feeling in his heart, but he knew, at least, that it was not easily conquered.
Sunlight filtered through thick foliage as they walked among the trees, and as Elizabeth stood with the sun on her face, Darcy imagined her at Pemberley, walking in the groves and shaded paths which his mother had taught him to love. Elizabeth would need no such tutelage. "Are you quite certain, Mr. Darcy, that Pemberley must be so far away?" she asked, though the hint of sadness in her smile belied her teasing.
"When you see it, I believe you will understand why Pemberley could never be anywhere else," he replied, trying for her sake to keep his tone light. "You may well love Derbyshire and its wildness as much as you have ever loved this county."
Her smile turned curious. "I have some difficulty imagining you of all people at home among the wilds."
"The house itself is not so run down as I believe you are imagining."
"Then it is a little run down?"
Darcy laughed. "Never let the housekeeper know you have said such a thing, even in jest!"
She laughed with him, and finally they were both at ease. He remembered the book she had left behind in the garden, and something suddenly occurred to him. "Elizabeth, would you like to visit the Lakes?"
She blinked several times. "Now?"
She was incorrigible. "When we are married."
"Oh." She blushed at his last word. "Yes, I – I would like that very much."
With a pleased smile, he took her hand and kissed it. Afterward he ought to have stepped away, or even suggested that they return to the house, but in the glow of the sunlight he could not resist her. She watched him with wide eyes as he touched her cheek, and when he leaned towards her, she nodded and closed her eyes.
Her lips were soft against his, soft and yielding. For the first time he experienced something like timidity from her, and the thought made him smile even as he lingered. It was likely to be the only time he would have to coax her into anything, and even that did not take long. Soon her hands were holding fast to the lapels of his coat while he gathered her into his embrace. She was everything he wanted, and it was only with the greatest of efforts that he tore himself away.
When their eyes met, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, possibly never to stop. He exerted himself once more to do the proper thing, to offer his arm and escort her back to the house. They spoke not along the way. It was just as well, for Darcy felt his heart would not allow him to speak eloquently all that was in him to say.
Lizzy, for her part, was too shy, too overwhelmed by his tenderness to speak. But whatever enjoyment she took from the kiss was quickly forgot. First her mother scolded her for having stayed outside so long; then Mrs. Bennet simpered and sighed at Darcy, who seemed to close in on himself with every attempt at conversation. Even Georgiana seemed to shrink from him. The cold Mr. Darcy had returned, and it pained Elizabeth more than she could express.
"And that will throw her sisters into the paths of other rich men!" Mrs. Bennet finished with great energy, after a speech of some minutes. It seemed to be the last straw, for he rose from his seat and stalked over to the window without a word.
"Mamma," Elizabeth said, in desperate embarrassment, "Mamma, I think you are making Mr. Darcy uncomfortable."
"Why should he be uncomfortable, Lizzy?" Mrs. Bennet asked. "Why should a young man of fortune be uncomfortable about his family's prospects?"
"Mamma, please, we do not have to speak of this so openly," she pleaded. "I am hardly marrying Mr. Darcy for his money."
Whatever else Mrs. Bennet had to say on the subject was thankfully lost. Jane came in, shortly followed by the housekeeper announcing Lady Lucas and Charlotte. Jane seemed to understand Lizzy's distress and helped her keep the conversation entirely focused on the wedding.
After the callers were gone, it was time for the Darcys to depart as well. Mrs. Bennet would have liked nothing better than to host them and their noble relations at Longbourn, but even she had to admit that there was not room. Fortunately an old schoolfellow of Lord Mallory's had leased Weston Manor, some five or six miles from Meryton. Mallory's friend had spent less than a month there that summer, and he was happy to let the Fitzwilliams and Darcys occupy it for the time.
Mrs. Bennet tried and tried to get Mr. Darcy to stay for dinner, each refusal seeming to make her all the more obstinate. They truly could not stay; they had arranged to meet their aunt and uncle and cousin at Weston. Mrs. Bennet was rather offended when they finally left. "He may be rich, but there was no reason to be so rude! I dare say my table would satisfy him, even if he does have French cooks."
Mortified, Elizabeth kept her head down, pretending to concentrate on the embroidery in her hand. "Mamma," Jane said gently, "you would not have him insult his relations by breaking an engagement. Or worse, surely you would not have them think something had happened to him and dear Georgiana on the road?"
That mollified their mother, but it did not soothe Lizzy's hurt. How could her mother act so in front of the man who had saved her reputation? But Mamma did not know how indebted they were to him. She only saw his wealth and his standing.
Lizzy was beginning to see the wisdom in Lady Matlock's offering herself as a confidante. She was not certain she could avail herself of that yet, but neither could she forever burden Jane with all her frustrations.
Besides, she could always hope that her mother was over her elation and would behave in a somewhat rational manner on the morrow, although she would not hold her breath.
Darcy, on the other hand, had gone from a kind of quiet exhilaration after kissing Elizabeth to a stark fear of what he was getting into. Mrs. Bennet would never be called a wit, and there was something decidedly vulgar about her. How Elizabeth and Jane were her daughters, he could not understand. If the eldest daughters had taken their aunt Gardiner as a model, they had chosen very well.
Pemberley was a long way from Meryton, however. Having lost his parents, Darcy could not in good conscience ask Elizabeth to shun hers, but he did hope that her inclination would not often steer them into Hertfordshire after they were married.
At Weston Manor, he and Georgiana were met by Lord and Lady Matlock and Lord Mallory. Mallory was to stand up with Darcy in the wedding. Darcy would have preferred Richard, but the major was currently on the Peninsula with no notion of returning to England in the near future. It was entirely likely that he had not even yet received the letter Darcy had written to inform him of the engagement.
They had a comfortable, quiet dinner together, and afterward Darcy sat in conversation with his aunt for a long time. Elizabeth had evidently spoken of her mother when she and the countess toured the house in town. Lady Matlock argued that from what she gathered, Mrs. Bennet was not much worse than many of the mothers who descended on London during the Season. "The poor woman has five daughters and an entailed estate," she said. "Your coming must have been a great relief to her."
"But such a want of propriety, Aunt."
"She sounds no worse than Lady Sutherlyn. I will admit that the comments on that lady's beauty are beginning to sound more like pity than praise, but such characters are not unheard of among our set, Darcy." Lady Matlock studied him closely. "Do you fear that you will find your bride suddenly becoming her mother? Elizabeth wants only better society and she will be quite perfect. You told me yourself how clever she is. I do not think you have to worry about her."
Memories of the kiss in the grove surfaced unexpectedly. Mrs. Bennet might have made him entirely uncomfortable, but he had crossed the bounds of propriety in a very different manner.
Part of him still dreaded the next morning, when he would introduce his noble mother's family to Mrs. Bennet. He could imagine the things she would say, trying to impress them or ingratiate herself to them. But as it happened, all his worry was for naught. When they turned onto the drive at Longbourn, another coach was standing in the sweep.
Lord Matlock was the first to recognize the livery. "Catherine," he said through clenched teeth.
They had talked of going into Kent to tell Lady Catherine in person, but ultimately the men had decided against it. She did not read the papers with any regularity, so they had to inform her themselves. In the end, Lord Matlock took it upon himself to write, but did not send the letter until they were leaving town.
Darcy was out of the carriage almost before it had stopped. He knew not what his aunt was hoping to accomplish in Hertfordshire, but he had to find Elizabeth before irrevocable damage could be done.
It was all he could do to keep from breaking down doors. He heard female voices raised in the morning room as the housekeeper escorted him and his family there, although mostly he heard Lady Catherine. They were announced, and in the chaos of their entrance, Elizabeth fled the scene.
Lady Catherine did not seem to care. She redirected her all her anger at Darcy, but he was more than happy to escape as well when his uncle and cousin stepped in. There was no chance Aunt Catherine would see reason whether he was there or not, but he did need to know what she had said to Elizabeth if he was to make this right.
Luckily Jane followed, taking Georgiana above stairs to sit with the younger girls. Darcy saw his sister safely maneuvered out of their aunt's way and caught sight of Elizabeth hurrying out the door into the gardens where he found her the previous day. She was halfway up the ridge behind the house by the time he got outside. "Elizabeth!" he called, but she would not answer.
Darcy stomped through puddles from the previous night's rain. Elizabeth's gown was three inches deep in mud before he caught up to her. He grabbed her arm, but she shook him off violently. "You do not have the right to restrain me, sir, not yet," she said bitterly. "And perhaps not ever." Her face was ashen; he had never seen her look so ill.
"Elizabeth, what do you mean?" he asked. He felt as though he had to shout over the wind. "What did my aunt say to you?"
"You are engaged to your cousin!" she cried. "How could you act the way you have, how could you say you would preserve my honor, while you are engaged to another?"
"If I were engaged to Anne, do you not think Lord and Lady Matlock would have said something by now?" he pressed. "This engagement is entirely of Lady Catherine's invention. Did she tell you it was my mother's dearest wish?" Elizabeth nodded reluctantly. "I was with my mother to the end three years ago. Do you not think she would have mentioned her dearest wish to me then? For I swear to you, she never said a word to me about marrying Anne. If she ever thought of it, it was an idle daydream, nothing more."
Elizabeth whirled around, preferring to stare at a particularly knotted tree. In the silence, something else occurred to Darcy, something which pricked his temper. "You thought I had offered you empty promises," he said. "How could you think so meanly of me? Have I not shown myself to be a man of honor?"
"It would have explained your behavior here yesterday," she whispered.
"My behavior? What are you talking of?" He spun her around by the shoulders, and heartily regretted it in an instant. She stumbled back from him, tears in her eyes, and he remembered what Mrs. Gardiner had told him. George Wickham had grabbed her like that. "Lizzy, I am sorry," he said, trying to keep his voice gentle. "But I do not have the pleasure of understanding you."
She took several deep breaths before speaking. "Mr. Darcy, you – you kissed me yesterday, and then when we came inside..." She wiped her cheeks with her fingers; belatedly Darcy thought to give her his handkerchief, but she refused it. "My mother means well. She is not refined like Lady Matlock or even my aunt Gardiner, but she means no harm. Which is more than I can say for one of your relations."
The last was added in a scathing tone, which set Darcy's temper flaring again. "And what would you have me do? Agree to fund your sisters in town until they can all find husbands as rich as me?"
"I would have you be civil!" she shouted. "She is my mother, and you showed her far less consideration than I have seen you afford beggars in the street!"
An indignant response was on the tip of his tongue, but she began to cry in earnest before he could speak. He reined in his temper, offered his handkerchief again, and counted it as progress when she took it. "So this is your opinion of me," he said quietly.
She shook her head. "I do not know what to make of you, Mr. Darcy. In Ramsgate you seemed to be all friendship, yet you never once introduced us to your friends, nor sought introductions to ours. In London you and your relations welcomed us with open arms, but at Longbourn, you close in on yourself as though you are better than all of us."
She looked miserable. He wanted to comfort her, but he did not want to be shoved away for a third time, and he could not think of anything to say which might mitigate her distress. She swallowed hard and looked at him directly. "Your aunt did say some things that were true."
Darcy resisted the urge to curse. "I rather doubt that."
"An upstart, pretentious nobody, she called me. You gain nothing by marrying me."
"And again, my aunt is incorrect."
"Mr. Darcy–"
"I gain you," he said quietly. He dared not say more. Her expression said more than enough, for she had clearly not considered that she could be of value to him.
Silently he offered his arm, and they walked back to the house. She saw the state of her dress and escaped up the stairs rather than let her mother see her covered in mud. Darcy followed her example and went in search of something with which to clean his boots, hoping the housekeeper would forgive him for tracking mud in.
That night, when they had returned to Weston, Darcy sent Georgiana to bed and joined the others in the drawing room. "I know Aunt Catherine tried to convince Elizabeth of that nonsense about my being engaged to Anne," Darcy said. "What did she say to you?"
"No doubt you can imagine most of it," Mallory said. "More important is what she did not say."
"You must speak plainer than that."
Lady Matlock smiled. "She said nothing of Ramsgate, Darcy. You know if a scandal had reached her ears, she would not have scrupled to use it against Miss Elizabeth."
"We have good reason to believe you are both safe, my boy," the earl added.
Mallory poured a glass for Darcy, and he drank it without being much aware of what it was. They were safe, perhaps, but he thought about Elizabeth's accusations and wondered just how much work lay ahead of him to right his own wrongs.
Darcy arrived ahead of the others the next morning, flowers in hand. Elizabeth smiled when she saw them, but he told her flatly they were not for her. He smiled at her pique, and plucked from the bouquet the solitary red rose among the white. "I believe I can spare this one."
She was still glaring at him, even as she smelled the beautiful flower. There was a greater surprise awaiting her in the sitting room. With a bow, Darcy presented the roses to Mrs. Bennet. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday's events, ma'am," he said, to that lady's astonishment.
He was instantly forgiven. "Oh, you are very good to us, Mr. Darcy! Lizzy, is he not?"
"You shall never find me in argument there, ma'am," Elizabeth replied. Indeed, she felt the flowers were for her indirectly; she had accused him of treating her mother ill, and this was his response.
Her mother hummed rather doubtfully. "That must be the first time you have said you will never argue. Not that she is prone to arguing, Mr. Darcy. She is generally a most tractable girl. I am sure you will find her so when you are married."
Elizabeth feared to meet his eyes just then, preferring to stare at her sister Kitty's latest drawing. Mr. Darcy's answer astonished her. "And I am sure, Mrs. Bennet, that if I find her most tractable when we are married, I will have married the wrong lady."
Mrs. Bennet had nothing at all she could say to that; Elizabeth, trying to suppress her laughter, suggested a turn in the garden.
Kitty joined them, and gave Darcy a very thorough interview. To her he described Pemberley: its parks, its river, its herds, its manor. Lizzy could imagine it all very well, though in the back of her mind was the fear that had first struck her in London, that she was not at all ready for this, nor would she ever be. Darcy spoke of Pemberley's housekeeper and how she would sneak treats to him when he was a boy, and Lizzy hoped she would find her as kindly disposed towards herself. She rather suspected that a good housekeeper could bring acclaim or disgrace to the mistress of the estate.
They turned back towards the house when they spied a carriage approaching in the distance; it was likely Georgiana and the Matlocks. Both parties arrived at the front door around the same time, so Darcy stepped forward to help his aunt and his sister from the carriage. Kitty took that moment to take her sister's arm. "Lizzy?" she said. "I like him."
Elizabeth was certainly surprised. "I am glad, Kitty, for he will soon be your brother."
"I wish you were not going so far away."
"I wish so as well, but I will comfort myself in the thought of very frequent visits from you all," she replied.
"This is not what I imagined for a wedding at Longbourn."
"What do you mean?"
"I did always think Mamma would have Jane married first." Both girls laughed at that. "But I do not think you are so very much in love, not the way heroines are."
"You should not be reading so many novels, Kitty. But I must confess, this has not been what I expected either." She dared not tell Kitty of the real circumstances of her engagement, but she could at least help her sister's romanticism find some reality. "He is not without faults, but he is a good man, I believe. Dashing and handsome and charming are well enough for a partner at a ball, but I am not at all convinced they would do for a partner in life."
Just then, Darcy looked over at them, smiling at something his uncle had said. Lizzy returned the smile almost without thought. "Lizzy?" Kitty said again. "Lizzy, I believe he likes you. The way a hero ought to."
"Kitty," Elizabeth chided, though her heart was not much in it. It was hard to deny, not with the memory of the kiss two days ago, but it was equally hard to reconcile with the way he had acted at whiles. Was he only exerting himself to please her?
Their guests approached; Lady Matlock seemed quite happy to greet Elizabeth out of doors. Georgiana immediately attached herself to Kitty, which made the countess smile. "I am pleased to see my niece with female companionship," she said. "You will do her good, of course; she came back from Ramsgate talking of nothing but you. But your younger sisters will be a great help to her."
"Mr. Darcy and I have not talked of it yet, but I hope to invite Kitty to visit us before too long," Elizabeth replied, "though the visit may be more to Georgiana than to me."
"He will not deny you that," Lady Matlock told her. "He understands what it means to lose family." They all turned to enter the house, and Elizabeth found herself arm in arm with the lady as they did so. "I was in quite the same predicament as you, my dear. I was from Sussex, and Matlock was a long way from home. Our separation was not final when I married James, but it was a little like losing them. I no longer had my mother or my sister at hand to ask questions or tell stories to."
"Is the neighborhood around Pemberley very active?" Elizabeth asked. "Mr. Darcy has given quite a thorough description of the estate itself, but says little of his neighbors."
"Of course not!" Lady Matlock said, laughing. "Darcy is reserved; one would almost say shy. He is well-liked in the neighborhood, but I think you will supply him what is wanting. He needs your liveliness. The neighbors are too apt to think of him as George Darcy's son rather than the master in his own right, and he will not trouble himself to correct them."
Elizabeth nodded, but said nothing. Darcy's aunt guessed why she remained silent. "A bride will not be expected to entertain on a grand scale right away, Elizabeth," she said. "The other families will host you over the next few months, and then of course I imagine you will come to town, where you will begin the process again. When the time comes to give the sort of dinners and parties Lady Anne used to, I would be happy to help in any way you desire. Including holding my tongue."
Lizzy smiled. "Thank you, Aunt."
This day held none of the dreadful awkwardness of the day before. Lady Catherine was forgot; only pleasant things remained. The morning passed with the family telling stories about Elizabeth. In the afternoon, Darcy submitted himself to similar treatment at the hands of his relations. Lady Matlock watched this with pleasure. Her nephew was too prone to be serious all the time, yet while he cast several woeful glances in Elizabeth's direction, largely when Mallory was telling particularly exaggerated versions of events, he never attempted to put a stop to it. Elizabeth was clearly enjoying herself, and he would not suspend her pleasure.
Lady Matlock also watched him actually exert himself to acquaint himself with the other Bennets. She was not sure she could ever remember him talking so much to people he had not known for some years. Most of the family he had only known for days, yet there he was, actually attending to what Mrs. Bennet was saying.
Her own son was talking with Elizabeth and Jane. Watching the two sisters laugh and talk together reminded Lady Matlock of her sister, and it gave her an idea. Later she would go to Darcy and ask about their plans for the weeks immediately following the wedding.
"We are for the Lakes," he said. "Does this conflict with something at Matlock? I must say, I am reluctant to cut the time short."
"Of course not. I would not interfere with your wedding trip," Lady Matlock replied. "We are bringing Georgiana to Pemberley after you return there, and I thought I might invite Miss Bennet to join us in Matlock and bring her on to visit her sister once you are settled."
Darcy's pleasure at the idea was instant. "Elizabeth will be very pleased, I am sure. But do you think we could keep this a surprise for her?"
"I cannot imagine why we should not. But tell me, nephew, are you atoning for some sins already?"
She watched in amusement as her nephew grew embarrassed. "What makes you ask?"
"You are eager to please her, Darcy."
"She will be my wife," he said seriously. "I hope I am able to please her."
Privately Lady Matlock thought him sure of success, but did not articulate this; of some things he was better off in doubt.
Though Mr. Darcy and his family called every day remaining of their visit, Elizabeth did not see much of them, being too busy with wedding preparations. On the day before the wedding, Mr. Bennet, no doubt sick of the commotion in his home, banished all talk of gowns and flowers and especially lace for at least two hours. Jane suggested that they walk out, and soon all the young people were out of doors together. The younger girls stayed near the house with Georgiana's governess; Jane took Lord Mallory's arm when he offered it. They soon lagged behind, giving Elizabeth and Darcy some privacy.
There were many things on Elizabeth's mind as they rambled along, though the conversation was not among them. The nearness of the wedding was not raising doubts so much as resolutions. She knew she was not ready to have her own household, but she would regardless; what use was there in fear? She doubted any young lady was ever ready for marriage and everything it entailed, no matter the circumstances. She had it in her to be happy, however, and always had. In Ramsgate she had enjoyed Darcy's company. Why should she not when they were married? It was true that she did not know him as well as she would like, but that would only come with time.
Their conversation lapsed, and Elizabeth found herself looking over Longbourn with a bittersweet pleasure. She loved her home, and she did not know when she would walk its grounds again. This day had always been waiting for her, she reflected. Marriage would have separated her from her home eventually; that was the way of things. Even if she never married, her father eventually would pass away, and the estate would go to a cousin.
That thought gave her something to say, though the subject was not an easy one. "Mr. Darcy," she said, feeling awkward about the question she was to ask. "Mr. Darcy, you know my family's fortunes."
He frowned. "If you mean the entail, then yes."
"I do," she replied. "Forgive me the presumption, but when my father passes, you will see my mother taken care of, will you not?"
"Of course," he said, bewildered and, if she was not mistaken, a little piqued. "Has your father not shown you the settlement papers?"
"No, sir."
For a few minutes they continued in silence. When Mr. Darcy spoke again, he did so at length. "If none of your sisters have the good fortune to marry men of means, I will assume responsibility for Mrs. Bennet and any unmarried sisters. Otherwise, I will share that responsibility with my brothers-in-law. If my death should precede your father's, there will be money set aside for this purpose. And if your death should precede your mother's, I will still honor this promise."
Elizabeth felt much relief at knowing this. She did not understand his anger on the subject, but she appreciated his generosity. "I thank you, sir."
"It is my responsibility to my wife, Miss Bennet," he said. There was a pause before he offered, "I will tell you the rest, if you like."
"The rest?"
He guided her to a nearby log which obliged them with a place to sit. Jane and Lord Mallory gave them a wide berth, though they remained in sight. He explained the income from Pemberley and his other holdings, how his father had taught him to invest his wealth rather than squander it on idle worldliness. From there he explained the scheme for sons' inheritance, daughters' dowries, for Elizabeth's personal funds, for her care after his death.
From the Gardiners and from his house in town, she had understood that the man she would marry was of great consequence, but until then she had not fully comprehended just how great he was. He had influence over so much, and at such a young age. On the morrow, she would be counted among those who depended on his goodness for their livelihood.
When his explanation was concluded, they sat in silence for some time. Distractedly, Elizabeth watched her elder sister laugh at something Darcy's cousin said. She was clasping her hands together tightly in her lap, and she jumped slightly when Darcy covered them. "I have upset you," he said.
"No," she replied, with a shake of her head. "I am not upset. Overwhelmed, perhaps, by your generosity, but not upset."
"I would not have your gratitude, Miss Bennet. I have had the good fortune of being born into my family, which comes with much responsibility. I am only doing my duty."
Though he spoke of financial matters, his last statement knocked the breath out of her as surely as a physical blow. He was only doing his duty.
This did upset her, but Darcy marked no change in her countenance, no reason for inquiry when she had declared herself well. She expressed a desire to continue walking, but refused his arm when he offered it. Darcy thought back to the question that had prompted their discussion. How had her father not spoken to her about this? How had he left her in suspense of what kind of support she would have, what her family would have? She was only marrying to preserve her reputation. The least Mr. Bennet could have done for his daughter was to assure her that fulfilling her obligation would alleviate a great worry about the rest of the family.
Darcy knew his temper was unyielding, and he knew it was a fault, but from the moment Elizabeth told him that her father had told her nothing, he found himself furious with the man. Mr. Bennet admitted to being lax with his family, but this was beyond anything Darcy could have expected. If this was how Thomas Bennet treated his favorite child, he shuddered to think what neglect the others would find themselves in.
By then they were walking behind Jane and Mallory. Elizabeth turned the subject away from the object of Darcy's anger. "I have rarely seen Jane so pleased with a gentleman's company," she said lowly.
"Indeed? I have been surprised by his attention to her." At Elizabeth's startled look, he quickly, and not very coherently, added, "Lord Mallory's wealth and title have long made him the target of fortune hunters. He does not generally react to young ladies as he has to your sister."
Elizabeth stopped, and Darcy stopped a step ahead and turned to her. "I do not understand, sir."
"Your sister has shown no extraordinary preference," Darcy replied. "I do not see anything in her behavior towards him that is materially different from her behavior to any gentleman of the neighborhood."
"You do not know her well enough to make that judgment, Mr. Darcy," she snapped, her face flushed with anger as he had never seen before, even after Lady Catherine's abominable treatment of her. "Jane would never make such a preference known to the world, and if she did, that would surely earn your scorn."
She was right, but his temper was rising again. "I have not seen any impropriety from your sister, but you must admit she is not–"
Realizing he was wading into treacherous waters, he stopped short. Elizabeth was too clever to miss where he might be going. "Jane is not what?" she demanded. "Not refined enough? Not pretty enough? Or is it her lack of dowry?"
"I did not say any of that, and I would thank you to refrain from speaking for me," he said tersely. "She has not encouraged his attention."
"They do not know each other well at all."
"Neither do we."
"Which should perhaps be a lesson for us all, for I imagine most happy couples do not spend this much time in dispute on the eve of the wedding."
Darcy stared, and then he smiled when he realized the truth of it. "Why do you smile, sir?" Elizabeth asked, her indignation plain.
He shook his head, hardly knowing how to explain himself. "I have no reason to dislike your sister," he said, taking her hand. "Indeed, she reminds me greatly of Mrs. Gardiner, whom I like very well."
She did not respond to the compliment as he would have liked. Instead, she frowned deeply. "We talked once about regret," she said, "but we would not have chosen each other, would we?"
"I cannot say," he admitted. "There were greater expectations for me in marriage. Those expectations still exist for Mal and his brother. That is not to say that I would have felt bound to oblige my family with my choice of wife, but it would have been a weighty consideration."
She gave him a brave smile. "I suppose it is best that Mamma has been too busy with our wedding to notice how much time Jane is spending with Lord Mallory," she said. "Should I warn her ere we go tomorrow that she should not expect her daughter to become a viscountess?"
It took him a moment to realize she was teasing, and he gave a heavy sigh. "Heaven defend me from my wife's wit!" he cried, happy to see her laugh in reply. She squeezed his hand; he lifted hers for a kiss. Somehow he knew that they would clash like this again, and perhaps soon, but he was relieved to have this dispute more or less resolved before they were married. He remembered his aunt's remark about his eagerness to please. It was more or less true.
Despite his request of Lady Matlock, he suddenly felt compelled to share his secret about Jane. "Aunt Matlock asked me a few days ago if she could bring Jane to us along with Georgiana, when we return from the Lakes," he said. "I meant to keep it a secret, but perhaps it is best if you can look forward to it."
She looked delighted. "You would give me Jane's company as a surprise?"
"On second thought, it was not the most plausible idea. She will be at Matlock a few weeks; all your letters would have to be redirected."
Elizabeth burst into laughter again. It was almost the most unladylike Darcy had ever seen her, and he adored the sight. She laid her head on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle the sound. Relieved, he held her while her shoulders shook.
A few moments later, Jane came running up to them, Lord Mallory in tow. "Lizzy!" she cried. "Lizzy, what is the matter?"
Elizabeth looked at her; she did indeed have tears streaming down her face, but at the sight of Jane's concern, she began to giggle once more.
Lizzy would have liked to spend the rest of the day in quiet contemplation, but she was not foolish enough to expect the opportunity. No, the rest of her last day as Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn was spent with her mother, her aunt Gardiner, Lady Matlock, and her sisters. There was too much work for reflection, and until Darcy's family were gone, she did not consider the one conversation her mother had not yet insisted upon having.
She had every intention of retiring early that night, but her mother came in to give her all the instruction she could manage on how to be a good wife. Much of it was mortifying to poor Elizabeth, but Aunt Gardiner took pity on her and interrupted. With Mrs. Bennet out of the way, Mrs. Gardiner either softened or contradicted much of the other lady's advice. Even that was often rather more embarrassing than not, and it was not until the eve of Jane's wedding that she spoke of that night to anyone.
In the morning, she woke early, desperately wishing she could go for a walk, but knowing her mother would be in hysterics if she were not in the house. She would have to wait, perhaps until she was at Pemberley. On this morning, there was something exhilarating in the thought, when before it had disquieted her. Perhaps she had accepted her fate at last. She would have to learn to be mistress of a great estate; she might as well take what joy she could find in it.
Jane was up early too, and together the sisters dressed for the day. Mrs. Bennet came with the maid, but fortunately by that point the girls were mostly ready. Lizzy let her mother fuss with her hair; it was too late for further alteration to her dress. "Well, Lizzy," her mother said at last, "you may never be as beautiful as Jane, but you are very pretty today."
"Mamma!" Jane exclaimed.
But Mrs. Bennet did not hear. She was in raptures over having a daughter married, or very near it. She and the maid soon departed, and Jane turned to her sister in embarrassment. "Lizzy, I am sure Mr. Darcy will find you as lovely today as ever."
Elizabeth blushed at the thought. "Jane, you know..."
"Oh, Lizzy, I know why you are marrying him, but he is a good man."
It was not long before the whole family were ready and it was time to depart. Mrs. Bennet, trailed by her three youngest daughters, sailed forth into the church with a handkerchief at the ready, but Mr. Bennet tarried at the door with the two eldest. "Papa?" Elizabeth asked, concerned by his hesitation.
"I will be ready in a moment, Elizabeth," he said.
She frowned. "Papa, I would not have you worry about me."
"I fear I cannot help it."
"Father," Jane said quietly, "we will be late."
"Yes, yes," he said, regaining some of his usual air. "Lizzy?"
"I am ready, Papa."
"Then I shall try to be ready as well."
Inside the church, Darcy waited impatiently with Mallory at his side. "You should try to look less severe, Darcy," his cousin muttered. "Otherwise the good people of Meryton might believe you are being forced into this."
Darcy shrugged his shoulders and tried to relax. From the front pew, Georgiana gave him an uncertain smile. In the last week he had not spent much time with her, and it would be fully a month before he saw her again. The Bennets were not there yet, so he stepped away from Mallory to half-kneel before his sister. "Are you all right, Georgiana?"
"Of course!" Her smile brightened a little. "Are you?"
Affectionately, he kissed her forehead. "I am."
"I am glad we will have Lizzy with us, Fitzwilliam."
"As am I."
There was a commotion towards the back of the church, and Darcy stood up just before Mrs. Bennet and the girls came inside. He brushed off his knee as subtly as he could. Then the bride entered with her father and her bridesmaid, and Darcy had to smile. Her dress was finer than any he had seen her wear before, but it was white, trimmed in deep blue, like the first glimpse of her he ever had.
"Much better, Darcy," Mallory whispered, but this time Darcy barely heard, and he certainly did not attend.
His bride looked nervous, but when their eyes met, she gave him a shy smile. For a moment he imagined that this had not been a matter of honor, that they both came to this marriage by choice. He realized then, as Mr. Bennet gave him Elizabeth's hand, that he could not imagine marrying any other lady. Even while he argued with her, he loved her.
It was a shocking realization to have in the middle of one's wedding; his relations thought he looked positively distracted during the ceremony. Elizabeth did not notice, conscious though she was about the way he looked at her. But when he repeated the familiar words, the vow struck him to the core. This, he realized, would be his life's work, to love, comfort, honor, and keep her, whatever lay before them.
And so in the span of a few minutes and a few words, they were joined before man and God. Elizabeth Bennet became Elizabeth Darcy; Fitzwilliam Darcy bestowed on her all his possessions, including himself. Mrs. Bennet cried, Jane cried, Georgiana cried, and from there Darcy lost count.
At the wedding breakfast, his bride was all smiles and laughter. His own spirits were as high as he could remember, and he was more relaxed among the guests than he had ever been. He had done his duty, and he had every reason for happiness.
Elizabeth did blush when he suggested it was time to leave, but she and Jane were quick to prepare her. The trunks were only just loaded when they descended the stairs arm in arm. She had an embrace for all their family, even Mallory and Lord Matlock, and tearful goodbyes with many. With Jane she lingered longest, and then it was time to go.
Darcy would have handed her into the carriage himself, but Mr. Bennet stepped in. Despite all his recent anger at his new father-in-law, Darcy would not deny him the right to place her in the carriage this last time. She bore Darcy's name and thenceforth it would be Darcy's responsibility, but he would honor her father now and give way.
Long before sunset, they arrived in London. The housekeeper, who had met Elizabeth in her previous stay in Gracechurch Street, curtsied and smiled for the new Mrs. Darcy and hoped everything was to her satisfaction. Elizabeth was quick to give assurances, and Darcy thought her rather determined to be pleased.
They each changed from their traveling clothes; Darcy waited to escort her down to the dining room. They were each in a quiet mood by then, conscious of how quick the servants were to leave them alone. In the drawing room, she set about embroidering her new initials on handkerchiefs, while he read to her from Blake.
Eventually Elizabeth told him in halting tones that she was ready to retire. Darcy led her back up the stairs, leaving her at her door and going to his own. His valet took an eternity, yet he knew he could not barge into the mistress's chambers. He waited a full quarter hour after dismissing his valet to knock softly, and another eternity passed before he heard her quiet, "Come in."
She rose from her dressing table as he entered and shut the door behind him. Her color was high, and she seemed imbued with some restless energy. She could not still her hands, and Darcy could well sympathize.
He was her husband, and perfectly entitled to be alone with her in her dressing room. Yet it felt awkward and improper to see her clad in her nightclothes and dressing gown, with her hair loosely plaited. Still, he reached up to caress her cheek, pleased when she did not shrink from his touch. "Elizabeth," he asked, "may I kiss you?"
She nodded, and he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. Some vestige of his habitual reserve kept his hands from wandering, but he marveled at the difference between that day in Longbourn's wilderness and now. Had it only been a matter of days since he first felt this desire for her? And now they were alone, not to be interrupted, not to be prevented from anything.
Elizabeth broke off the kiss, trembling, but she stayed near. When he pulled her into his arms, she rested her head on his shoulder and whispered, "Courage."
Darcy was quite sure he was not meant to hear that. It startled him a little, and it made him think that perhaps his wife had not been truly as receptive to him just now as she had seemed. "Lizzy, are you sure you are ready for this?"
It took her a long time to answer. "No," she said in a small voice. "But I am your wife now, and perhaps as ready as I will ever be."
"Lizzy," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Lizzy, I will never force you to do anything you are not comfortable with. Yes, you are my wife, but if you are not ready, I cannot demand this of you."
"I understand the vows we made today."
With my body, I thee worship, he remembered. How she blushed as he uttered those words.
He thought back to that awful night in Ramsgate. Mrs. Gardiner had told him that physically, Elizabeth was unharmed; she came to him as innocent as she had come into the world. But her aunt was more correct than Darcy had yet realized. The attack on her had left no physical scars, but that did not mean she was not hurt.
He took a deep breath to steady himself, and stepped back. "Lizzy, come to me when you are ready. Let us take a little time to know each other better."
For fully a minute, she stared at him, disbelieving. "But what if I am never ready?"
"You stepped in front of runaway horses once to save a stranger," he reminded her. "I have no doubt you will find your courage."
It would be a long night for him, knowing she was in the next room, and that he had every right to go to her, but he would keep his promise to her. He would wait, as long as it took.
Lizzy woke in a strange bed, in a strange house, in strange clothes, and in a strange situation. She was married now, the wife of Mr. Darcy, yet he had not acted upon his rights as her husband. It reminded her of that evening in Ramsgate when he asked her to marry him, even though it was already arranged. He wanted her comfort, and it was humbling.
It was also terribly confusing. Darcy was clear in his motives. Everything about him spoke of duty. Elizabeth knew very well that the marriage bed was part of her duty now, so why would he hold back? She was not unappreciative, but it reminded her of how little they actually knew each other.
She rang for her maid – another curiosity, having a maid of her own – and dressed. The maid, Susan, was quiet as she attended her new mistress, which Elizabeth was grateful for. She could not have borne curiosity this morning, when nothing had happened the night before.
Below, she found Mr. Darcy at the breakfast table, reading the paper. He rose immediately upon her entrance, holding his hand out to her. Unsure of what he wanted, she placed her hand in his, only to find herself drawn closer. He kissed her cheek and smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. Darcy," he said, and she blushed at her new name. "Did you sleep well?"
"I thank you, yes," she said in some distraction. "Yesterday was exhausting, though; I imagine I could have slept well in a carriage on that awful road out of Ramsgate."
He laughed and invited her to join him for breakfast. Elizabeth did so gladly, aware that she had not extended him the courtesy of asking after his comfort, but she could not bring herself to ask about anything that followed his departure from her rooms the previous night.
Unsure of what she would do with her time, she asked him about his plans for the day. He had letters of business to write, especially to his steward in Derbyshire, for he did not want to spend much time during their tour of the Lakes dealing with mundane matters. Elizabeth seized on this line of conversation, and it was not long before Darcy had taken her to his study, where he showed her ledgers and the journal he kept as a record of the estate. They were thus engaged until the housekeeper knocked and reminded Mrs. Darcy that they were to meet about the workings of the house.
Thus passed two full days. Elizabeth had written a note to Longbourn when they arrived in London, but she had promised a longer letter to Jane. It was difficult to know how much to share, and she wrote the letter in fits and starts. The afternoon of their second day in town, Elizabeth went to her letter and found her pen in need of mending. She could not find her penknife anywhere, so she went to her husband's study in search of one.
Darcy was not inside his study, so Elizabeth slipped in, intent on being quick. She was distracted, however, by the book evidently set aside in haste by her husband. It was a small volume of religious poetry. Surprised by his choice, she picked it up to investigate.
The poem marked was unusual enough that she leafed through a few more pages. The book fell open as to a well-loved passage, and she began to read it as well. The imagery of it startled her, but no more than when Mr. Darcy suddenly returned. "Elizabeth?" he said. "Is something wrong?"
She was blushing furiously as she snapped the book closed. "I needed to mend a pen," she managed. "I could not find my penknife, so I came here. Then I was... curious."
He came up to the desk and took both book and pen from her. "I think I know which sonnet you found," he said idly, mending the pen himself.
"Forgive me, sir, I did not mean–"
"There is nothing to forgive, Elizabeth," he replied with a hint of a smile. "I told you once my library is yours. I did mean it, although it occurs to me that once Georgiana is with us again, I should probably keep volumes like this one away from her."
Feeling far too embarrassed to continue the conversation, Elizabeth turned away from him slightly, facing the desk. He finished with the pen and set it aside, opening the book instead and handing it to her. He had indeed guessed which sonnet she had found. "Mr. Darcy," she protested, but he stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, and began to read, his voice low in her ear.
"Batter my heart, three-person'd God; for you
As yet but knock; breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like a usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me."
Elizabeth bit her lip when he finished. "Do you find this shocking?" Darcy asked in the same low tone.
"Yes," she whispered.
He stepped to her side and turned, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I thought it shocking the first several times I read it. But why do you think it so?"
"To speak of God in such terms..."
"'Signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his church,'" Darcy quoted, words that had been spoken before them only days before. "If the church is the bride and Christ the bridegroom, this metaphor seems almost unavoidable."
Elizabeth still frowned, though his reasoning was firm. "The book fell open to that," she pointed out. "Why have you returned to it so often?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. With some distraction she thought it was the most unguarded she had ever seen him. "What do you make of the last lines?"
She blushed again as she read them. "I hardly know."
It was his turn to frown, as though he expected a better answer from her. "I like order in my life. I do not handle commotion well, which I am sure you have observed." Elizabeth could not help a small smile, to which he let out a sigh. "Yes, you will no doubt tease me for that."
She was starting to understand, however. "Does this poem remind you that you should not try to control everything?"
"In a way. It reminds me that I will never be my own man unless I am first God's servant. Husband and wife give themselves up to each other; in like manner, Christ gave himself up for the church in death. We give ourselves back to him in life." Darcy gently closed the book and pressed her to keep it. "Read this. I think you will appreciate it."
Elizabeth nodded. "Shall I keep the marker where you left it, or do you need more practice at giving up your will to another?"
"Impertinent wife!" he said, laughing. "Do as you please."
"Thank you, I shall." She kissed him lightly before she left, only realizing later that it was the first time she had done so. Always before he had been the one to kiss her.
She read through the book in an evening, as it was not long. Darcy asked her opinions in several points, though they avoided the sonnet they had first discussed. That night, Elizabeth lay awake thinking about what that book said about him. They had talked about many subjects in Ramsgate and in London and in Hertfordshire, but rarely had they discussed such a weighty matter.
She was relieved to know that her husband, a man she had known for so short a time, was a man of conviction, who put much thought into matters spiritual as well as physical. In the last few days, she had spent much of her time at his side learning about the Darcy family and all the things that came with her new name. It was easy to see only the things, if she was honest. Money was no object to him; that was plain from how he spoke of spending it on her. He had been exceedingly generous to her, and it would have been a simple matter to accept his gifts without seeing the heart that gave them.
She remembered Kitty's remark one day before the wedding, how she thought Darcy liked Elizabeth the way a hero ought. Elizabeth had dismissed it as the imaginings of a young girl, but a little more understanding of him had suggested to her that perhaps her sister had seen something after all. He was so tender with her, yet not at all in the same way he treated Georgiana. There was a kind of tension in every address, every look, every touch.
Two nights after he gave her the book, she knocked on the door separating their rooms.
He opened it looking concerned. "May I come in?" she asked him.
For a moment he looked too stunned to act, but then he turned and dismissed his valet. "Is everything well, Elizabeth?"
"Yes, I – I am well."
For a long time they merely stood in the doorway, watching each other. Then Darcy stepped aside and allowed her in. She had not been in the master's rooms before. The furnishings were newer than the ones in her rooms; they were also much more masculine, with every comfort his wealth afforded him. It reminded her of him, every fine thing without ostentation or pretense. Everything about him was genuine, including the vows he had made to her before God.
When he asked again if she was well, the look of concern on his face overwhelmed her capacity to speak. It overwhelmed everything but a spark of desire, burning bright within her.
She pressed herself to him before she could lose her nerve, balancing herself with her hands on his shoulders as she kissed him. For a horrible moment he did not react, and she pulled away from him, embarrassed by her own forwardness. But he was staring at her in a kind of amazement, and not with disapprobation. With the intensity of his gaze to give her the encouragement she needed, she reached for him again. This time, he wrapped his arms around her so tightly she had no way of escape.
Not that she wanted it. On their wedding night he had restrained his desires for her sake; she understood that now. It was humbling, or it would have been had she been at leisure to consider it. His hands were warm against her back, fingers digging in as though he feared she would vanish. He had kissed her often enough, but now something inside him had snapped. This kiss was everything demanding, and it was well that Elizabeth had no desire to resist him. Indeed, she wanted this, and everything he was willing to give.
By mutual yet unspoken consent they began to undress him; he had only removed his boots and waistcoat before dismissing his valet. She laid her hand against his chest when it was bared to her, surprised at the quick, steady beating of his heart. He mistook her pause for hesitance. "Elizabeth," he murmured.
She knew not from where her confidence sprang, but she took his hand and brought it to the belt of her dressing gown. His fingers shook slightly as he untied it and pushed the gown from her shoulders. With the firelight behind her, the nightgown underneath left little to his imagination. "Dearest," he breathed, sending a wave of heady desire through her.
"I am your wife, Fitzwilliam," she said, the first time she had used his Christian name since the wedding.
He lifted her up as he had once before, but Elizabeth did not think of that night now, not as he carried her into the next room and the warmth of his bed.
Darcy woke the next morning when the sky was still grey. He had not slept very much, but he found he did not mind. His wife lay next to him in his bed, looking lovelier than he could recall.
Nothing could have surprised him more than her coming to him the night before. He had thought it would be weeks before she was ready, and he was prepared to wait until they were at Pemberley before approaching her again. Over the last few days they had talked of many things, sometimes touching on deeply personal matters. He knew not what had convinced her to trust him, but he was glad to know that she would. She was shy with him, but her blushes were born of inexperience, not fear of him, nor memories of that night in Ramsgate.
Elizabeth woke a few minutes after him, and she blushed again upon seeing him. "Good morning, Elizabeth," he said, his voice rougher than he expected.
"Good morning, Fitzwilliam," she replied, smiling softly.
He touched her cheek tenderly. "Did you sleep well?"
Her smile turned amused, as she no doubt remembered a similar conversation the morning after their wedding. "No," she said. "I am afraid, sir, that you snore."
He laughed heartily and brought her into his arms. After a long kiss, she laid her head upon his chest and sighed. "I suppose we ought to go to church this morning."
Darcy hummed in agreement. "We did tell your aunt we would dine with them today," he remarked. "It would not do to start married life by failing to honor a commitment."
"Indeed," Elizabeth replied, though the next moment she was shaking with laughter.
The day was still very young, so even though they took their time, they arrived for church punctually. There Darcy had the great pleasure of introducing his wife to his acquaintances, for everyone there that morning was curious about the new Mrs. Darcy.
Afterward, they made their way to Gracechurch Street, where Elizabeth's young cousins were all eagerness to see their visitors. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were hardly less eager, though far more decorous in their greetings. The little girls attached themselves to Darcy immediately, remembering him as their playmate weeks before. Their parents each had a kiss for Lizzy and a warm handshake for her husband. They had a very pleasant evening together, and when the Darcys were gone, the Gardiners would talk of Darcy's gentle attentions and Elizabeth's blushing smiles. They had both been worried about Lizzy and their friend, and felt no small amount of guilt at the role they had unwittingly played in necessitating the marriage. It was a relief, if they were honest, to see early evidence of mutual society and comfort.
The Darcys left for the Lakes the following morning. Lizzy found a source of delight in new scenery even when the roads were deplorable; every evening she was diligent in recording the day's events in the journal her husband had given her for that very purpose. On the road, Darcy would often read to her from the poets who had been so inspired by their destination. The days of travel were far more pleasant than she imagined, but a journey through storms and on foot would have been worth what awaited her in the Lake District. She had never seen such wildness, or such beauty, and she would often stand transfixed by the wonders surrounding her.
For his part, Darcy did enjoy seeing the Lakes again, but a far greater pleasure was seeing Elizabeth in such raptures. After what she had suffered for those weeks leading to their wedding, some of it at his hands, she deserved this holiday, unmarred by trouble and stress.
They concluded their wedding trip and arrived at Pemberley as autumn fell. Darcy had previously thought that the best view of his family's estate was at the height of summer, but after the look on Elizabeth's face he began to revise his opinion. The countryside was very beautiful, and the house showed very well against the changing foliage.
The only thing that would have made this homecoming complete would have been if his parents had lived to meet Elizabeth. Despite all of Aunt Catherine's protests, he imagined his mother in particular would have loved his wife. Both his father and mother likely had harbored higher ambitions for their son, but he knew they would approve that he had done his duty, and he hoped that they would approve of the wife he had gained.
Lizzy, for her part, was experiencing something akin to Jane's astonishment in Cavendish Square. The woods and groves had animated her greatly, but when they stopped for the first good prospect of the house itself, she was absolutely silent. Only when Darcy asked, low in her ear, if she liked the house, did she rouse herself to speak. It was beautiful, she told him, happily situated and possessed of stately dignity without excess. He smiled in satisfaction and ordered the driver on, and she recovered some of her customary manner. "I hope I am not to find you in the habit of tearing down perfectly good groves to make way for Grecian temples, Darcy."
He laughed and brought her gloved fingers up to his lips. "You shall find no such profligacy in me, Elizabeth."
Her agitation increased as they neared the house, but Darcy noted it not. He smiled when he handed her out of the carriage and drew her close. "Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy," he said quietly, as they crossed the threshold together.
This was home now, she thought. This grand estate was home.
She was introduced briefly to the steward, the butler, the housekeeper, and the cook, but more substantive interviews would wait until the morrow when she was rested from the journey. She had had a letter from Mrs. Reynolds after Darcy wrote to inform the housekeeper of his engagement, and she was glad to see that her impressions of the woman appeared true. She was deeply loyal to the Darcys and determined to see her master and Pemberley viewed in the best light. This now included ensuring that her young mistress was successful in managing the house.
Young Mrs. Darcy surprised Mrs. Reynolds, first by requesting so few alterations to the various rooms of the house, and second by deferring to her on so many matters. Since the death of Lady Anne, Mrs. Reynolds had feared that either old Mr. Darcy or the young master would take a bride who would not do credit to the family. She had feared it more with the current Mr. Darcy, who was young enough to make a foolish match. But Elizabeth Darcy was no fool.
Mrs. Reynolds was troubled a little by some of what she saw between the newlyweds; surely, with the disparity between them, this had been a love match, yet she did not see many signs of such. One of the upstairs maids reported in a whisper that only the master's bed had to be made the first morning they were in residence, but they did not always display the ease of a couple much in love.
She quickly learned, however, that Mrs. Darcy was most likely to be found in the library if she had nowhere else to be, and Mrs. Reynolds was quite convinced that the young lady would soon have Mr. Darcy's heart, if she had not already won him over.
Rain was keeping Lizzy within doors, or Mrs. Reynolds' observation of how she spent her unoccupied time might have been much different. Darcy lamented once or twice that they could not view the park as he would like, but Lizzy assured him that she did not mind. The house was providing exploration enough.
She found she had much to learn indoors. From her mother she had learned how to run a house, but Longbourn's house and grounds had not prepared her for the scale of Pemberley. There was never a day, and sometimes hardly an hour, when her attention was not needed somewhere. She began to wonder when great ladies had time to embroider or paint screens. When she said as much to Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper smiled. "Pemberley has been without a mistress for three years, Mrs. Darcy. You will always be able to keep your hands busy if you do not care for idleness, but for now there is simply too much curiosity about you. It will abate, I am sure."
Lizzy certainly hoped she was right.
On the first fine day since their arrival, she was surprised to find that her husband had ridden out at first light, but by noon he returned with a surprise for her. While they were still touring the Lakes, Darcy had written to inquire after a mare that a friend had talked of selling. It was a beautiful horse, dapple gray with darker mane and tail and a long streak of white between her eyes. Perhaps the horse was simply grateful to see that she was to be a lady's mount after all, but upon Lizzy's approach, the horse whinnied and nuzzled Lizzy's face with great affection.
Elizabeth laughed and stroked the mare's mane, but she turned quiet when she saw Darcy's pleasure. "Do you like her?" he asked.
"She is perfect," she said in all honesty, but it brought something rather awkward to the fore. "This is a lovely gift, Mr. Darcy, but I am no horsewoman."
That surprised him greatly. "Your father never taught you?"
She shook her head. "My feet took me everywhere I wanted to go in Hertfordshire."
"They cannot take you everywhere here," he said, patting the horse's back. "At least not in a timely fashion. I know you are a great walker, but a few of the tenants are too far away for you to visit on foot."
It was rational; too rational for her to offer objection. "I suppose I shall learn."
"I would be happy to teach you, Mrs. Darcy."
The offer was too much to resist, and in the afternoon he met her in the stables. He was doing a poor job of suppressing a smile at the sight of her. "If you do not ride, how do you happen to have a riding habit of the latest fashion?" he asked.
Lizzy thought for a moment that her uncle Gardiner would be proud, for Darcy had learned to tease, though laughing at himself was perhaps a little distance off. "It was Lady Matlock's notion," she replied. "I did not wish to disillusion her."
He helped her mount the horse while a groom held the mare's head; then Darcy took the groom's place and led horse and rider outside. Elizabeth noticed that a number of the men and boys had paused their work in the stables to see their proud master teaching his wife to ride. Fortunately the head groom called them back to work, and she felt a little more comfortable without the scrutiny.
This first lesson did not last long; Darcy said she should not exert herself too much when just learning. Afterward Elizabeth was still keen to be outside, so they walked together through the garden on the south side of the house. She took his arm, because she sensed he offered it out of something more than courtesy. As they ambled along, he told her what he remembered about the gardens and his mother's role in their design. Neither he nor his father had changed much about them, and Elizabeth saw no reason to do much either.
They sat down together on a bench facing the lake. "Did you teach your sister to ride?" she asked him.
"Yes, in the last year," he confirmed. "I believe it benefited us both; she needed to learn, and it gave me a way to spend time with her without..."
"Hovering?" Elizabeth asked with a small smile.
He chuckled and squeezed her hand affectionately.
They repeated the activity daily, as the weather now continued fine, until Darcy felt confident in riding alongside her. That first day, his horse was a little restless, and Elizabeth rather enjoyed watching him work to control his mount. He had an excellent seat, though, from his years of riding. There was much to be admired about him physically, and she would not miss this opportunity.
She had others, of course. They had spent more than half the nights of the last month together. But though Elizabeth had come to him, she could not say she was entirely comfortable with him yet. There was something missing, and she was too young and too inexperienced to know what.
Was it love? She wondered that often in unguarded moments. She liked and esteemed her husband, but love did not seem such an easy thing to her. Other young ladies her age were prone to fall in love at the slightest inclination, but Elizabeth was too sensible for that. It was perhaps to her disadvantage now, for it meant she was slow to show affection to her husband, when his interest was obvious to all but her. She was too wary of him, remembering that by turns he could be a very different person.
Though the days of their wedding tour and the weeks at Pemberley had been idyllic, she could not help but feel a little adrift. What would happen when her warm and gentle husband was replaced by the cold Mr. Darcy she had seen at times at Ramsgate and Longbourn? She had to guard her heart, else he would surely break it.
Another week would bring Jane and Georgiana to them, one to visit and one to stay. Lizzy found herself depending on their arrival, especially as the neighbors began to pay bridal calls. From the sound of it, the Darcys' marriage had taken the entire county by surprise. Every lady in the neighborhood commented on Elizabeth's youth and asked if she were musical? if she drew? if she had traveled much? No one seemed to understand what had drawn Mr. Darcy to her, for by then word of her family's fortunes had spread through Derbyshire. She exerted herself, then, to appear attached to her husband, and though they had never spoken of it, he did likewise. Their visitors usually carried away the idea that it was still a curious match, but the new Mrs. Darcy was an agreeable young lady, and her husband very much in love.
As the bridal calls subsided, Darcy began to spend more of his time as he used to, often at various places around the park. Elizabeth appreciated his diligence even though it left her alone when they did have callers. It was not so difficult, she reasoned, to entertain ladies for a morning. Those who came back so soon after welcoming her to the neighborhood were probably the ones who liked her anyway, so she need only be herself.
But one morning, the lady who called upon her was not from the neighborhood. Mrs. Reynolds came into Elizabeth's sitting room to announce a guest, but the housekeeper delivered the news as a warning. "Lady Catherine de Bourgh, ma'am."
Elizabeth's eyes widened for a moment. "Send for Mr. Darcy," she murmured just before Lady Catherine swept into the room.
Mrs. Reynolds nodded in understanding and left the ladies to themselves. Lady Catherine was surveying the sitting room. "You have changed little of my sister's room."
Elizabeth could think of nothing at all to say to that, so she changed the subject. "Will you not sit, Lady Catherine?"
"I will not. You must know why I am here; there is no point in drawing the matter out."
"I have not the slightest idea why you have come, ma'am," Elizabeth replied. "If you wish to speak to my husband, I am certain he will come as soon as he knows you are here."
"Then he has not told you of our arrangement?" Lady Catherine asked, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Why, he is to send my niece to live with me."
This Elizabeth could not believe on the face of it. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me very well," the older woman said. "I told him I would forgive this infamous alliance he has made, but he had to allow me to take my sister's daughter away from your influence."
Elizabeth had learned, after her last encounter with this woman, not to take anything she said as unvarnished truth, but she was certain there was something wrong, something Darcy had not told her. She could not believe that Lady Catherine would fabricate such a story whole cloth.
"I fear you have wasted your time coming here, Lady Catherine," Elizabeth said, trying to keep her voice gentle and her countenance mild, like Jane would. "Georgiana is not even at Pemberley at present."
That took Lady Catherine by surprise. With great ceremony, she finally sat down, in the one of the two green, high-backed chairs, the grandest and least comfortable contraptions in the house. "I imagine you have not had the opportunity to change this room," she said, giving Elizabeth a sharp look.
Not one to be easily intimidated, Elizabeth fought an unholy urge to laugh at this ridiculous woman. "Its furnishings are not so old as to require replacing, and the paper was new just a few years ago," she replied, still standing. "There are one or two chairs I would remove."
"Which?"
"The green ones."
Lady Catherine, realizing the implication, turned her gaze to the fireplace and would not answer even the most civil inquiries.
Feeling keenly that she ought not let the woman so wholly disrupt her morning, Elizabeth went back to her desk and her ledgers, leaving her unwanted guest in astonished silence, until Darcy arrived. He was by no means expecting the scene he found, Elizabeth diligently bent over her work while his aunt sat nearby. "Lady Catherine," he said, "I did not expect you."
"What a remarkably foolish statement, nephew," she said, rising from her chair to face him. "I wrote to you that I would come."
At that, he heard the light scratch of his wife's pen come to a halt, and a moment or two later she had also risen and looked to him. He knew not how Elizabeth would take this, so he decided it would be best to deal with that difficulty in private, once his aunt was gone, possibly forever. "I most certainly did not write to you to indicate any agreement to the scheme you put forth," he said, "and never should."
"Oh! You ungrateful man! What would your mother say?"
"My father would thank me not to surrender his will to yours," Darcy replied. "He left my sister in my care, and I would not deny his wishes for the world."
"And my sister would be appalled to know that her son married an ignorant, insolent girl! That you, her only son, should be drawn in by whatever crude allurements such an unremarkable thing could possess! You were engaged to my daughter; does it mean nothing to you that Anne is heartbroken?"
Darcy looked at his wife, a little surprised to see her looking on so calmly. Her anger was obvious, but this was not at all like that day at Longbourn. "That you wished an engagement, Aunt, did not make it so," he said tersely. "And my wife did nothing to draw me in, as you so vilely put it. Now, my sister is not here, and–"
"So your wife informed me. She has already convinced you to disregard your duty–"
"My sister is not here," he repeated, more forcefully, "and I should not turn her over to your guidance and protection in any case. This is the second time you have appeared without invitation in another's home to abuse my wife, Aunt, and I shall not tolerate a third. If you cannot offer her civility, then you will find all connection with Pemberley at an end."
Lady Catherine looked astonished by this. "You will come to regret this, nephew."
"For my mother's sake, perhaps." That was all he would allow.
Lady Catherine stormed out, declaring she would not afford either of them the civility of leave-taking. Darcy would have seen her out regardless, except that Elizabeth's silent anger had been turned on him. "Elizabeth, I am–"
"You can have nothing to say to me, sir," she replied, returning to her desk.
"Lizzy," he pressed.
"I beg you will not importune me further. I have a great deal of work to do."
"How can you be angry at me?" he snapped. "You cannot believe me pleased that my own aunt would so abuse you!"
"You knew she was coming, sir, and gave me no warning. I can assume either that you did not think your wife had any business knowing to expect such a guest, or that you agreed with her, that Georgiana ought to be removed from my influence."
"I did not think you so foolish as to believe either option, madam."
He realized the magnitude of his error almost immediately, but his pride would not let him take the words back. He watched as Elizabeth deliberately closed up her books and set everything to right upon her desk, then left the room without a word to him.
He did not follow her; they both needed to calm themselves, he knew. A discreet inquiry of Mrs. Reynolds informed him that Lizzy went for a walk, and it was some hours before he saw her. Her face flushed with renewed anger when their paths crossed, and the sight piqued his own temper again. Yet the worst of his ire was reserved for the woman who had twice gone to such lengths to insult Elizabeth. That evening, after a painfully silent supper, he wrote to his uncle to inform him of the event and to request his assistance in convincing Lady Catherine that he was in earnest. Mrs. Darcy was not to be insulted and attacked in such a manner, and he was willing to cut ties to preserve her honor.
But his ties with Elizabeth needed mending. On the morrow, she was civil to him but no more. It was another day before he remembered that first encounter with Wickham in Ramsgate, when she had been so irritated with his silence on the subject. And how much he could have spared her, if only he had relented and spoken! No matter what the Gardiners or his own relations said, he knew that some significant portion of the blame lay with him. And now, she was wounded by his silence again, she whom he had promised to honor.
He sought her out and found her in the music room. Her back was to the door as she played, and Darcy stood, watching and listening unobserved for some minutes. She must have been practicing in recent weeks, he realized. He had never found her performance wanting, but he could detect a greater precision, improving skill, as her fingers moved on the keys.
She stopped in the middle of a phrase, and for several moments she did not move, not even to take her hands from the instrument. Then she asked, "Do you need me, sir?"
"I would speak to you, Elizabeth."
She closed up the instrument and walked over to the window. Darcy stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The servants were discreet, but he did not trust even them just now. "Lizzy, will you not look at me?"
She shook her head, curls swaying with the movement. Darcy wanted to be angry at her refusal, but he heard a soft sniffle and realized she was crying, or trying not to. With no thought to how she would respond, he crossed the room to her, so he could at least see her face. "Lizzy."
With a wince, she turned away from him. Unable to bear the force of her unhappiness, and that at his making, he moved behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist. When he bent to kiss the curve of her neck, she clapped her hand over her mouth. "My dear wife," he whispered, because he could think of nothing else to comfort her.
Some minutes passed before she was calm enough to speak. "Why did you not tell me she was coming?" she asked reproachfully, and he strove not to answer her in kind.
"The letter came only a few days after we arrived at home," he told her. "It was so full of bitter insults to us both that I burned it, and sent no reply. You seemed so content, Lizzy, and I did not wish to upset you by reminding you of my aunt's cruelty. I never dreamt she would come when I did not answer."
Elizabeth took a deep, shaking breath. "You should have told me. I am not so fragile that I could not bear such absurdity."
He nodded but said nothing. She turned in his arms, face against his shoulder, and he held her tightly. "Can you forgive me, Darcy?" she asked.
"Forgive you?" he said in shock. "Lizzy, it was my fault–"
"No, Darcy, do not say – let me feel at fault. I should have known there was some reasonable explanation. You have been nothing but kind to me, and I ought to have remembered that. No man could be so selfless and then so thoughtless."
Darcy was not convinced. "I have always been a selfish creature, Elizabeth," he said quietly, drawing her gaze up to him in surprise. "The product of being an only son, and for so long an only child, I suppose. I ought to have consulted you, and not assumed I knew what was best, or even what you would want."
She reached up with a tentative touch, and he kissed her palm and closed his eyes. "I am sorry, Darcy," she said.
He nodded. "As am I."
They stayed a little while longer in the music room, holding one another in silence. Lizzy, when she could focus her thoughts again, felt strangely better, even better than before Lady Catherine's intrusion. At last, he had a fault she could name. On the whole he had been so kind and good to her, that sometimes she felt wickedly petulant in a desire to provoke him, just to prove to herself that he was human after all, and that she was not dreaming. It was perhaps best that they were not to be alone much longer.
The day that was to bring their sisters to them arrived; one might have got the impression that Lizzy and Jane had been separated for years, from how they embraced upon seeing each other once more. Lizzy kissed Georgiana's cheek, but she was surprised to see who had accompanied them. Lady Matlock and Viscount Mallory were there, but so was another young lady, a little older than Jane, and so like Lady Matlock that she must be her daughter.
"Rachel!" Darcy exclaimed upon seeing her. "How do you do, cousin? You must be well if you have traveled all this way."
"You always have been quick to assume, Darcy," the dark-haired lady replied. "Now introduce me to your wife, or I shall think you have forgot all your manners." They had not been able to call on Rachel in London, as the lady's illness had prevented it.
"It will be a pleasure," he said, taking his cousin by the hand and leading her to Elizabeth. "Rachel, my wife. Elizabeth, my cousin, Lady Rachel Beckett. Her husband is John Beckett, my good friend; I have told you about him, I am sure."
The two ladies curtsied to each other. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Rachel," Elizabeth said with a smile. "I have heard much about you."
"Oh dear," Rachel replied, laughing. "Knowing your sources must be my cousin and my eldest brother, I shudder to think what you have heard!"
Elizabeth had to laugh too. "Alas, I cannot assure you that Jane has similarly mistreated me in my absence, for I do not believe Jane has misrepresented anyone in her life!"
"An ideal sister, then," Lord Mallory put in, with a pointed look at Jane, who blushed.
Elizabeth urged her guests then to rest from their journey for a little while, after which they would have tea, but even as she and Mrs. Reynolds went about ensuring that all was in order, her spirits were lifted. With visitors Pemberley would not feel so very quiet, and perhaps might begin to feel more like home.
It was not until after dinner that Darcy realized something had changed. His wife was altered; more cheerful, more lively. Their time alone, whether in London or Derbyshire or the Lake District, had been quiet. He was not sure what to make of the difference.
Elizabeth played hostess to the family gathered at Pemberley that night, charming the room with stories of their tour of the Lakes, of Ramsgate, and of her own childhood. She and Mallory could keep whole ballrooms entertained for hours, Darcy thought, like actors on a stage. Mallory was like her, easy in company, quick to laugh. Darcy was not as open or as voluble. He loved his wife, he was sure of that now, but sometimes the contrast between them was striking.
For a few days, he did not spend much time alone with her. She was inseparable from Jane, and very frequently in company with his relations. Those days only served to tell him how much he longed to monopolize her time. She was his wife; did he not have a right to her company?
He was seeking her out one afternoon when he came upon Rachel instead. "Looking for your wife?" she asked. "My mother took her and Georgiana and Jane to Lambton."
Darcy tried not to scowl, but his cousin saw his frustration. "Are you so lovesick, Darcy, that you cannot bear a few hours' separation? You said over breakfast you would be with tenants most of the day. You cannot blame her for seeking diversion elsewhere."
"And you did not accompany them?"
Taking his arm, she urged him outside, into the garden. "I am feeling better than I did a month ago, but this morning did not agree with me. I was not sure I could manage the excursion, so I stayed back to answer John's latest letter."
"I am happy for you and Beckett, Rachel," Darcy said sincerely. The mention of her husband had reminded him that he had not congratulated her on her news. "I have never seen you so happy."
Indeed, Rachel's marriage seemed to have changed her, or perhaps returned her to what she once was. She had been quite an active girl, but after attending school and coming out, she had grown quiet and almost nervous. Her fortune made her prey, and she was well aware of it. But last summer, after Darcy's father died, she had come to Pemberley with her parents. John Beckett came as well to offer his condolences, as soon as he had leave from his unit. Darcy did not think much of the introduction when he made it, too busy with the estate and his sister to imagine it would be of any consequence.
When the engagement was made known to the family there at Pemberley, Darcy was the only one surprised. Even little Georgiana had figured out something. Once aware of it, many things did make more sense, but mostly he was relieved for Rachel. She was a sister to him, and his old friend made her happy.
"I expected to see you happier, Darcy," Rachel replied. "Mother said Elizabeth was delightful, and she is, but a girl of her background..."
"She is a gentleman's daughter," Darcy said, stiffening slightly as he realized no one had told Rachel about Ramsgate.
"I mean no disrespect to Mrs. Darcy. She is everything charming, but I thought you would both be somewhat more... attached."
He frowned a little, wondering what to say to her. The easier path would be to tell her, but they could not tell everyone. Besides, at some point it had occurred to him that it was Elizabeth's story to tell, not his. He and Elizabeth needed to look like they were happy together, to keep people from wondering.
He was growing frustrated over how to respond to his cousin, but a step on the gravel path called his attention back to the house, where a footman was coming towards them. Darcy rose, and the footman offered a letter to him. He broke the seal and soon found himself with news from his property in Scotland.
"Mrs. Darcy is in Lambton with some of our guests," he said to the footman. "Send a messenger for her; I need to speak to her as soon as possible."
When the footman was gone, Rachel stood and laid her hand on his arm. "Darcy, what is the matter?"
"A flood at Kinkirk," he replied, folding the paper again.
"And you must go."
"I will speak with my steward first, but yes, I think it would be best if I saw to the matter myself."
"Of course." They started walking back to the house arm in arm. "Mamma will not stay past Monday. When she and my brother leave, I would be happy to stay behind with your wife."
"You think she will need help."
"Perhaps. She is so young."
"You do not have great experience running a household either, Rachel."
"No, but I know where everything is here. Besides, Mamma means well, but I am not sure I like living with her as a married woman."
Darcy nodded. "I will have no objections if Mrs. Darcy does not."
Half an hour later, he had concluded his conference with his steward. By then the ladies had returned; Elizabeth hurried towards him when she caught sight of him. "Darcy, whatever is wrong? Lady Rachel is not unwell, is she?"
"No, she is well," he replied, clasping her hands. "There has been a flood at Kinkirk. My steward and I have agreed that I should go."
"Oh," Elizabeth said, sounding disappointed. "How long will you be gone?"
"I do not know, but I hope it will not be more than a fortnight. It will depend on how extensive the damage is."
"Of course."
The others had caught up by then, and he explained the news again. Mallory instantly offered whatever assistance he could provide, but all that was left was to gather belongings and go.
The others dispersed, and Darcy found himself alone with his wife. Knowing this privacy would not last, he ushered her into the nearest room and shut the door.
"Fitzwilliam," she began to say, but he cut her off with a kiss.
It took her a moment to respond, but soon her arms wound around his neck while he deepened the kiss. He had felt unsettled merely sharing her with their family; how much worse to be separated from her!
"Fitzwilliam," she repeated in a breathless accent, when he finally pulled away.
"Elizabeth," he said in kind, touching her cheek, and hoping she understood.
There were voices in the corridor; immediately they separated and moved to leave the room. If Mallory or Lady Matlock thought anything of their emergence, neither said a word of it. "Are you sure I should not come with you, Darcy?" Mallory asked. "You must know I would, if you give the word."
Darcy glanced at his wife, but she was looking elsewhere. "No, cousin, do not change your plans on my account."
Mallory agreed, though reluctantly. Before another half hour had passed, everything was ready. Darcy shook Mallory's hand and Jane's; then kissed Georgiana's forehead before embracing Rachel and his aunt. This left only Elizabeth to part from, and with great feeling he kissed her hand. Pale but calm, she placed her other hand upon his shoulder and raised up on her toes to kiss him softly.
It lasted only a moment, but as he traveled north, the remembrance of it gave him hope.
Elizabeth had her first letter from her husband four days after he departed. He had arrived in safety, and the situation did not seem so dire as reported. The others were pleased to hear this news, although Rachel laughed when Lizzy would not let them read the letter for themselves. There was nothing improper in it, but Darcy had expressed in tender terms that he missed her already, words she did not wish to share.
On the next morning, Mallory escorted his mother back to Matlock, leaving the young ladies to themselves. The little party remaining at Pemberley passed their days pleasantly, with rides about the park, trips into Lambton, and hours reading and talking to each other. Elizabeth enjoyed particularly having Jane with her again, but it was strange having her sister as her guest. They had been away from Longbourn together before; it should not have been so odd to be her hostess. Yet she was responsible for Jane's comfort now. Her elder sister depended on her.
Georgiana did too. The girl spent much of her time following Elizabeth about, which Elizabeth would have found irritating, except that Georgiana was so sweet that it was difficult to react to her the way she might to Lydia. The girl was eager to be loved by her new sister, and Elizabeth found her honest affection hard to resist.
"She is a dear girl," Jane said to Lizzy one afternoon, while Georgiana walked ahead with Rachel. "Is she the reason you have been practicing the pianoforte more now?"
Jane's teasing was rare, and it always made Lizzy laugh. "She is a good influence on me, I suppose."
"You have always been a good sister."
Elizabeth did not want to agree to that, knowing herself too well and knowing that Jane rarely saw the bad in life. She decided to turn the subject. "You must tell me then, dear sister, how you are enjoying your stay here."
"Oh! This must be the loveliest place in the world, Lizzy, and so particularly suited to you. How you must love your new home!"
Elizabeth smiled at her sister's praise. "It is not too lonely for you now that my husband's cousin has gone?"
Jane blushed. "Lizzy, you must not think me enamored of Lord Mallory. I am well aware of the differences between us. He is a pleasant man, but I shall not think more of his attention than courtesy to his cousin's new family."
Lizzy smiled and said no more, though she wished so much to ask what had passed between them in Matlock. That evening her patience was rewarded. After Georgiana retired, Rachel said to Jane, "My brother asked after you in his letter today. What shall I tell him, my dear Jane?"
Jane looked down in embarrassed silence; Lizzy answered instead. "That is very kind of Mallory, Rachel."
"You credit him for more than he deserves, Elizabeth."
Jane rose and moved to a collection of books on a table near the window. Rachel frowned at Lizzy, but Lizzy shook her head, wanting to end the conversation, even though it was apparent that Jane felt more than she was willing to admit.
On the day following, Jane had a headache and stayed to her room. Elizabeth would have gladly spent the day tending her, but found that her presence was genuinely required elsewhere. She also sensed that Jane perhaps wanted some time alone. That was not something either of them were much accustomed to at Longbourn, but Lizzy could not begrudge her the luxury at Pemberley.
That afternoon, while Georgiana was at the pianoforte, Elizabeth left her sitting room in dire need of exercise and found in Rachel a kindred spirit. With bonnets and gloves and spencers collected, the pair headed outside, determined to enjoy the fresh air before a storm set in.
"I am not certain what I would have done if I had married a man who lived in town," Elizabeth said, as they entered one of the groves near the house. "I have always enjoyed visiting my aunt and uncle in town but I doubt I would be happy living there."
"I wonder if you will take much pleasure in the Season, then," Rachel said. "There is always Hyde Park if you want fresh air, but one does not go there to be out of doors. One goes to be seen."
"I confess, it has me nervous," Elizabeth replied truthfully. "I have been to the theatre a few times with my uncle and aunt, but I doubt that is representative."
To her surprise, Rachel laughed. "At least you know that much already. Most of my friends went into their first Seasons with wildly unrealistic ideas. And of course, you have the advantage of being married already. That will make your life much easier in town."
"Is it a great advantage?"
Rachel's smile turned joyful. "Oh, without a doubt. There is nothing in the world to compare to a husband who loves you, and whom you love in return! Do you not agree, Lizzy?"
Elizabeth wanted to reply, but found the words caught in her throat. Quickly she turned away to compose herself, but Rachel caught her distress. "Cousin, dear Lizzy, what is the matter?" she asked. "Is it Darcy's absence? You know he will not be gone much longer."
"No, no," Elizabeth replied, shaking her head and desperately wondering what to say.
She wished Rachel would leave off, but knew it was impossible. "Elizabeth, will you not tell me what is the matter? I hate to see you in this kind of distress."
They had stopped walking, and Elizabeth turned to face her friend. She took Rachel's hand, and took a deep breath. "Rachel, I think you ought to know something, and know that I tell you this in the strictest confidence."
This only heightened Rachel's alarm. "You have it, of course."
"I know what the common belief is, Rachel, but Darcy and I... Ours is not a love match," Elizabeth told her, and steeled herself for the reaction.
Rachel, happy in her own marriage, was disbelieving, shaking her head. "You cannot be serious, Lizzy. I have seen how he looks at you. I cannot believe he married you for any other reason."
"I am in earnest, Rachel. We married because our choices were to marry or face a scandal that likely would have ruined me."
All the color drained from Rachel's face as she stared. "Surely he did not – Darcy would never – Darcy!"
"No, no!" Lizzy cried. "You misapprehend me. You are right; Darcy would never. I am not telling this well."
"Perhaps you should start from the beginning. I know you met at Ramsgate."
Elizabeth nodded. "We had known each other three weeks when we both attended an assembly. I... I danced with an old acquaintance of his, someone Darcy cannot bear the sight of. I walked outside in the garden and this man followed me. I screamed for help, and Darcy found me as I was trying to escape."
"And he was thought to have compromised you, and not the other man," Rachel said, comprehending the confusion.
"Yes. He acted as though he were the guilty party and did his duty."
"Oh, Darcy!" Rachel cried. "How impossibly good!"
They began to walk again, and Elizabeth could not stay silent. "He comprehends a great deal as his responsibility," she said. "I cannot call him impossibly good, for I can attest to his temper, but when we met that day on the seashore I could not have guessed at the depth of his true character."
"He has borne it well," Rachel mused. "But what of you, Lizzy? Such an ordeal, and then to find yourself married so swiftly afterward..."
Elizabeth took her time answering. "I had known him six weeks, almost to the day, when we were married," she said. "It was not enough for me to know him as well as I would have liked. I do so want to be happy with him, but I suppose I must learn patience."
Rachel took Elizabeth's arm affectionately. "Wanting to be happy must be the first step to being happy, Lizzy. And my cousin takes such tender care of you. I do believe he would go to the ends of the earth to secure your happiness."
Elizabeth blushed, and it was some time before she said anything more. "It is not yet four months since I left Longbourn for Ramsgate. I did not think my life could change so completely in so short a time."
Rachel gave a sympathetic smile. "Have you at least seen some change for the better?"
She nodded. "I do not believe I was made for melancholy, though I have felt more of it these last weeks than ever before. Already this life feels more rewarding than what I had before, and perhaps more than I could have had in Hertfordshire. My only regret is that I did not choose it for myself."
"I must say, Lizzy, that I admire you immensely," Rachel replied, "more than I already did. I do not know if I would have had the strength to make the best of it, as you have."
"I am glad you will not have to find out," Lizzy said sincerely. "Darcy has said often how pleased he was by your marrying his friend. I do hope to meet him before long."
"I am certain you shall. He is the best of men, even better than your Darcy."
Lizzy rolled her eyes. Before she could say anything in reply, thunder sounded through the woods, and two respectable married ladies were seen running back to the house in the rain.
As they warmed themselves before the fire in Elizabeth's dressing room, Elizabeth held a cup of tea in both hands as she sipped it. "Do you think your sister is truly ill?" Rachel asked. "She did seem out of sorts last night."
"I cannot say," Elizabeth replied. "She is not prone to this kind of indisposition, at least. But she has not been herself these past several days, since your brother left. I wish I knew what had passed between them at Matlock."
"I was not there the whole time, and for some of it I was more occupied with my husband, since he was shortly to leave for his regiment."
"That is perfectly understandable."
Rachel smiled. "You did not let me finish. I did find a scrap of paper in my brother's hand, an attempt at a verse on the beauty of a young lady."
"You cannot be serious."
"I am. Dreadful poetry, too. I do not know what he was thinking."
"Did Jane see this?"
"I made Andrew burn it and promise never to write another couplet."
Elizabeth could not help giggling.
The next day being Sunday, they all went to church in the morning, and Elizabeth invited the rector and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Peters, to come to Pemberley on Monday. The couple were about the age of Lord and Lady Matlock, and they had been at Lambton for years. They had been among the first to call on the Darcys after their marriage, and now they were Elizabeth's first dinner guests.
The small party assembled was an excellent group for the experience, even though there was only one gentleman at the table. Mr. and Mrs. Peters were unpretentious and very kind people, obviously fond of the Darcy family. When Elizabeth led the group into the drawing room after the meal, only a few minutes passed before the couple turned the conversation to remembrance of former visits. "I must congratulate you, Mrs. Darcy, on a lovely evening," said Mr. Peters. "Lady Anne would be proud of her son's marriage."
Elizabeth blushed. "I thank you, sir. I wish I could have known her."
"She was a remarkable woman," Mrs. Peters said, with a fond smile.
"Will you tell me about her, and my husband's father?" Elizabeth asked. "Mr. Darcy has told me some, of course, but I would like to know of them from others."
"Oh, Lady Anne was such a beauty," Mrs. Peters replied quickly. "It was considered an excellent match for Mr. Darcy – your husband's father, that is. She made an excellent mistress for Pemberley. There was nothing beneath her notice, yet if she did try to mediate some dispute among the servants or the tenants, it was all done so sweetly that no one thought she had interfered at all."
"She sounds quite exemplary," Elizabeth said, trying to keep her smile serene. She wondered fleetingly how Jane managed it.
"My wife is remembering her old friend kindly," Mr. Peters put in, though he said it with a grin. "Lady Anne had a temper too."
"And Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth prompted. "Lady Rachel tells me my husband is much like his father in person and character."
Mr. Peters nodded. "He has his father's thoughtful nature, and he will never be as outgoing as his mother was. But they were both intelligent, well-read people, as their son is."
"And Lady Anne was so very musical, like Georgiana," Mrs. Peters added, with a smile for the young girl at Jane's side. "I understand you play and sing, Mrs. Darcy."
"Yes, but I would not call myself musical. I have never had much patience for practice."
"And yet my cousin says your playing is delightful," Rachel put in. "I believe he said he would listen to you before anyone else, or nearly."
Remembering an evening in Ramsgate when he turned pages for her, Elizabeth blushed furiously. "He has overstated my talents, I assure you."
"But Fitzwilliam always tells the truth!" Georgiana cried, before remembering her place and covering her mouth.
Elizabeth laughed, which set everyone else at ease. Then Mr. Peters said, "Mrs. Darcy, I fear I must impose on you to hear you play, that we may settle whether your husband is correct."
She wanted desperately to refuse, but knew it was not possible. She looked at Rachel. "Will you play for us as well?"
"If you like."
They moved to the music room together, and Elizabeth let Rachel play while she looked through the selections in a folio atop the instrument. Jane was right; she had practiced more of late, but she had not performed for anyone since that night in Ramsgate. She remembered what Darcy had liked best, and when Rachel had finished her Italian airs, she sat down and played some English songs, sometimes singing and sometimes not.
Rachel was the more proficient of the two, but while her audience had appreciated her talent, Elizabeth was listened to with more pleasure. Her playing had improved in recent weeks, but most important to her performance was her expressive nature, which covered a multitude of sins where her fingering was concerned.
Before she had relinquished the instrument, she had another member of her audience. At the end of her last song, she looked up to see her husband standing at the open door. "Mr. Darcy," she blurted out, rising awkwardly from the bench.
The others turned and rose when they saw him. "I did not mean to interrupt," he offered as he came to Elizabeth's side. He took her hand and kissed it, and added in a low voice, "That was lovely."
That caused laughter from some quarters as Elizabeth blushed again. "Your cousin told Mr. and Mrs. Peters that you preferred my playing above all others."
"My wife refuses to be complimented on this matter," Darcy said, turning to the rector. "How do you do, sir?"
They shook hands and smiled at each other with a friendly air, and Darcy bowed to Mrs. Peters. "Very well, sir," said the rector. "Your wife has provided a lovely evening for us."
The smile he turned to Elizabeth made her tremble and steady herself against the pianoforte. "I am glad to hear it," he replied.
A servant brought the coffee, and Elizabeth set about serving everyone while her husband talked of his journey to Scotland. Much of what he had to say she had heard from his letters, but it was good to hear his voice again. She had not been lonely in his absence, but she was glad to have him back.
That night, when Mr. and Mrs. Peters were gone home and the rest had retired, she was not surprised by the knock at her door. Her maid was long gone, and she opened the door for her husband and gave him a tired smile. "Are you well, Fitzwilliam?" she asked.
He nodded. Then he cupped her face with his hands and rested his forehead against hers. "I have missed you," he murmured, just before he kissed her.
Elizabeth knew her husband was a passionate man, beneath the placid expression he wore for the world to see. In the weeks they had been married, she had come to enjoy his bed, but this night was something different. After a fortnight away from her, his attentions were more like reverence than duty.
He was exhausted, and before long he was asleep at her side. Well into the night, Elizabeth lay awake, struggling with confusion. Something had changed, or perhaps she was only seeing it for the first time, and no amount of sleeplessness could give her an explanation.
They stayed at Pemberley until December, when they traveled to Matlock. John Beckett was there, unbeknownst to Rachel, who could not contain her joy at the surprise. Darcy found himself aching with jealousy towards his old friend for a moment. He harbored no desire for Rachel, but envied the obvious affection between her and John. His own wife was friendly to him, but Darcy did not want that from her. He wanted the impossible girl he met at Ramsgate.
Sometimes, and he hated the thought, but sometimes he imagined that she was avoiding him. Once Georgiana and their guests arrived, they rarely had any time alone, except when he came to her rooms at night. He supposed that was only natural. She had four sisters and no brothers, and even after those weeks alone with him, perhaps she was still more comfortable with the ladies than with him.
Matlock caused a small change, however. Cold weather set in while they were there, but it did not dampen Elizabeth's enthusiasm for walking. She bristled when he suggested it was not a good idea for her to walk out alone, but with Jane and Mallory's assistance, Darcy convinced her it was for the best if she did not go alone in unfamiliar country and in uncertain weather. Every morning, then, he had his wife's company, uninterrupted.
On the third day, she gave him the opportunity he sought. "Rachel never seemed unhappy at Pemberley, but I see now that she is happier with Captain Beckett than we could make her."
"They quite adore each other," Darcy agreed. "It is no discredit to you that you could not supply her with that."
She laughed a little and relaxed, though she also drew closer to him. "How did her parents respond to the match?" she asked. "I can see that they love him as a son now, but she could have married a man of greater consequence, had she had the ambition."
"I assure you, she never did," he replied. "The match was made at Pemberley, though I confess that I knew nothing of it until it was a settled matter. My aunt and uncle were pleased. Aunt Catherine thought she was throwing herself away on the younger son of a mere country squire, but she is hardly representative."
At the mention of Lady Catherine, Elizabeth stiffened. Darcy immediately regretted his words. "Lizzy, I am sorry."
"No, please, do not," she murmured, bringing them to a stop. "She is your aunt. I would not have you cut ties with family on my account."
"You are truly too generous, Elizabeth," he said, taking her hand. "What woman in a thousand would not demand a renunciation of the person who treated her so abominably?"
"Jane?" she said archly.
He laughed, and kissed her though they were in full view of the house. "My wife," he whispered, "has a tender heart."
Her cheeks were flushed as she met his gaze, but she did not speak. He gestured to their path and they set off again. "I have been thinking," said he. "I have missed the time we spent reading together."
Her eyes were intent upon the patch of ground before them. "I have abandoned you these last few weeks."
Darcy shook his head. "You have not abandoned me. It was incumbent on me as well to seek your time, and only natural that you should keep our guests company. Only–"
"Only?"
"Only I hope you have not been... frightened, somehow." He had never shaken the memory of the night after their wedding, when she had been steeling herself for his touch.
"Frightened? Of you?" She looked genuinely puzzled. "To be sure, you are a great man; very tall and strong, of course; and one cannot forget that I and so many others depend entirely upon you; and occasionally on a Sunday afternoon you can be positively a bear with nothing to do–"
"Peace!" he cried, laughing.
She smiled too and clasped his hand rather than take his arm. "I am not frightened of you, Darcy. But I must admit," she said, sobering, "that I do not always understand you. Sometimes you smile, and sometimes you scowl, and I cannot always work out why. We are for Hertfordshire in a few days, and perhaps I fear which husband I shall find when we are at Longbourn."
After a month with Jane, it was easy to forget what the rest of the Bennet family were like. Darcy tensed without thought. "And there it is," Elizabeth said. "I know what my family is, but I try not to be ashamed of them, for they made me what I am."
He lifted their joined hands to kiss hers. "Then I shall endeavor to honor them for it."
"Thank you." This time they walked on at her urging. "But I have a suggestion, which may fulfill both our wishes at once."
"I admire your efficiency, then."
"Teasing husband!" she said with laughter. "Come to me tonight, and read to me. Read to me something you love. I may learn to understand a man from his library."
"You have seen my library."
"I have seen your family's library; it is you whom I wish to know better."
He brought Shakespeare that night, and read of the quality of mercy while his wife reclined in his arms. On successive nights he read from novels, poets, the Bible, even a political tract, hoping that it accomplished the goal.
He did wonder at her confusion; he had never thought of himself as all that inscrutable. Yet he remembered when she and the Gardiners first called on him and Georgiana in Ramsgate. His sister had thought him severe when he was watching her and Elizabeth with pleasure. There was no shame in keeping the world from knowing his every thought, but if he were to gain more than friendship from her, he had to let her see him as he was.
The day before they were to leave for Hertfordshire, Darcy woke some minutes before Elizabeth. Her hair was a mess from his fingers the night before, and she looked pleased even in her sleep. She smiled when she woke under his scrutiny. "Why do you stare, sir?"
"To fix a most lovely portrait in my memory," he replied, pleased when she blushed, and more pleased when she brushed her fingers against his unshaven cheek. "I must arrange for you to sit for your portrait while we are in town this winter."
"A little more formal than the portrait you are taking now, I trust," she said, laughing even while he leaned in to kiss her.
"Undoubtedly." For a little while he lay still with her, breathing her in. "How do you progress with your portrait of me?"
For a moment she was confused; then she laughed. "I profess only to sketching, Fitzwilliam," she said, fingers combing through his hair. "I cannot say when I shall be finished, but I assure you, I am enjoying this sketch of your character."
"I am glad, Elizabeth," he said, drawing her closer. "Very glad indeed."
That day was full of preparations for the morrow's journey, but while Darcy was out with his uncle and cousin, Lizzy found herself suddenly alone with Lady Matlock. "Mrs. Darcy," her husband's aunt said, "is there anything I can do for you or Jane before you leave?"
"Thank you, Aunt," Lizzy replied, "but I cannot think of anything at present."
Lady Matlock smiled. "Next time you must stay longer, Elizabeth. Perhaps we will have another inducement for you to come after Christmas."
Lizzy frowned a little. "I did not think Lady Rachel expected her child before Easter."
"Do you not think you will be visiting your sister before then?"
"My sister?" she repeated. "My sister Jane?"
Feeling overwhelmed suddenly, she sank into a chair nearby. Lady Matlock followed her quickly. "Forgive me, my dear. Andrew came to his father and me for our blessing two days ago. I thought he would speak before you left, but if Jane has not told you, he must be waiting to speak to Mr. Bennet first." When Elizabeth said nothing, Lady Matlock added, "I hope you will approve, Elizabeth. My son is very much in love with her."
"Of course," Elizabeth said in distraction. "I am sorry, Aunt. I am... I did not expect such news so quickly; that is all. I like Mallory exceedingly well, and he would make a good husband for my sister."
"But?"
Lizzy sighed and looked away. "It is a match far beyond what any of my sisters ought to be able to lay a claim to. So is my marriage, for that matter. George Wickham is the only reason Darcy married me."
"Elizabeth Darcy, I will not hear you speak such nonsense again," Lady Matlock said, sounding every bit like she was scolding her own daughter. "Darcy is a good man, and he would help any young lady he found in trouble, but do you honestly think he would have noticed that any other lady at that assembly was gone? He was watching you; I am sure of it. I think you must put aside this notion that his marrying you was an altruistic matter. Have you not seen how he looks at you? How he has always looked at you?"
She had, but she had not understood. "He is not the easiest man to know."
"My dear girl, I have never seen him so bewitched." Lady Matlock sighed. "You have a lifetime with him ahead of you, Elizabeth. Do not put up barriers that will only make you both miserable."
Frustrated, Lizzy closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. "I so want to please him, Aunt. There is such history to his family, so much responsibility, and I am dreadfully afraid that I cannot but disappoint him."
"Oh, Lizzy," Lady Matlock replied, pulling her into a much wanted embrace. Lizzy succumbed to a few tears while the other woman spoke. "Do you know what I saw when I visited? I saw how the servants and tenants and even the people in Lambton have already come to respect the new mistress of Pemberley. They see fairness and sweetness in her, though she is young, and they see how much she pleases the master."
Elizabeth drew away, wiping her eyes and hoping she would not need to cloister herself in her room before she would be presentable. "Have I been very silly?" she asked.
"No. Only a little silly."
She laughed softly and shook her head. "I had not let myself be overwhelmed before now. I suppose it was high time."
"I believe you managed longer than I did, dear."
Elizabeth laughed again at that, joined by Lady Matlock. "At least tell me that he is trying to be less guarded with you," the older woman said.
Elizabeth nodded. "We have spoken of this. He is trying. Do not blame him."
"I will blame him when he deserves it," Lady Matlock argued. "He is not a man without fault. Do not make that mistake."
Wide-eyed, Lizzy nodded. "I do know that. We have disputed often enough."
"Good. Do not let him think he is without fault either."
"I will do my best."
Elizabeth did feel better after the conversation, though she was obliged to retreat above stairs for a few minutes to collect herself before she would let herself be seen. She thought of the last few days at Matlock, where Darcy had tried so hard to let her see him for what he was. She had always known that he was a good man, but he had faults enough which sometimes obscured his better nature. His temper could be as short as hers, and pride he had in abundance. He had a tendency to assume she did not know things and needed his explanation. In lively company, he often withdrew.
Yet what was any of this to compare to her own character? She was too quick to anger, too readily mortified by ill breeding and wild behavior. She had always resisted formal instruction even when she knew it was for her betterment. And sometimes, when she saw her husband's discomfort among others, she simply ignored the matter instead of trying to set him at ease.
She would not want him to see only her bad qualities, so it was incumbent upon her to see more than his. This became her new determination as they left for Hertfordshire; but if she also helped keep him from the more ridiculous elements of her family, that would not hurt either.
The Darcys' stay in Hertfordshire was only a few days, as the Gardiners had invited them all to London for Christmas. Elizabeth told Darcy in a whisper her aunt's good news; Darcy felt a little sorry for Mrs. Gardiner, for not even the news of a baby stood a chance of fair hearing under the shadow of Jane's engagement.
Mallory had followed them to Longbourn, applied to Mr. Bennet, and gained himself a bride in hardly any time at all. Jane was very happy; Darcy could see that now. Elizabeth had been right about her sister. She was not given to shows of emotion, but that did not mean she was not given to emotion.
She would make a good wife for Mallory, who would benefit from her steady temper and sweet manners. For selfish reasons too Darcy was happy about the match. Jane would be within a day's journey of Elizabeth now, which he hoped would give her some happiness.
Mrs. Bennet was immoderate in her excitement over the match, but Darcy found his time with her limited. With some surprise he realized this shielding was of Elizabeth's making. She was doing what was in her power to make him more comfortable. Darcy wanted to protest at her handling of him, but decided to let his wife have her way. After all, Mallory was much better suited to Mrs. Bennet's raptures than he.
In London, the Gardiners hosted most of the Bennets, while the Darcys stayed in their own house. Jane stayed with her mother but Kitty came to Cavendish Square, much to Georgiana's excitement. Most of the days were filling with shopping for Jane's wedding clothes. Elizabeth too was shopping for new clothes for the winter. As a result, Darcy spent much of his time with his father-in-law, cousin, and uncle.
He remembered all his anger at Mr. Bennet before the wedding, but he also knew how much Elizabeth loved her father. Darcy still could not think well of his management of his family and was not sure he could forgive the man for not telling Elizabeth about the marriage settlements, but he tried to be polite to him, for Lizzy's sake.
There was more to Mr. Bennet than Darcy had supposed. Indolent he was, and too disinterested in his family's concerns, but he had a keen mind and sharp wit. His love for Elizabeth was plain too, and Darcy was surprised to find him absent the animosity he had displayed the previous summer. Darcy would have held that grudge much longer, he suspected, but he would follow suit and try to forget.
His uncle was a help in that regard. Bennet and Matlock had much in common and seemed like old friends from the beginning, at least when Bennet could be coaxed out of Darcy's library.
"You have an inordinate amount of poetry, young man," Bennet said to Darcy one morning while the ladies were out. "Will you now claim the library is the work of generations?"
Matlock laughed heartily before Darcy could reply. "It is, but I have it from both my sons that Darcy bought most of that poetry. And some of it he bought for his wife."
"She is fond of poetry," he offered by way of defense.
"I doubt her father let her read Donne," Matlock said pointedly.
Darcy wondered how his uncle knew what Elizabeth had been reading on their journey south but said nothing. Bennet answered instead. "I never restricted Lizzy's reading," he said, "but as I do not own any copies of Donne, you will have to ask her husband how he feels about it."
Darcy shrugged and tried to sound unaffected. "I see no reason to place restrictions on her," he said. "As I believe everyone in this room has told me at one point or another, she may be cleverer than me. Why tell her she may not read the things I enjoy?"
None of the men had much of an answer, so the conversation turned elsewhere. Yet it continued to bother him, enough that that night Elizabeth asked him what was wrong. "It is nothing serious," he answered, despite his preoccupation. "My uncle thought it strange that I let you read whatever you like, even though I own some books not thought suitable for ladies."
"I am afraid I am ill-suited to give an opinion on the matter, Darcy," she replied, turning back to her book.
That certainly took him by surprise. "You? Ill-suited to give an opinion?"
He was distracted for a moment as she tucked her feet up on the sofa, her slippers left behind on the floor. "I have no other husband to compare you to," she said, continuing calm. "Although Beatrice was right, I think. You are too costly to wear every day."
"Strange," he replied, taking her book from her and bidding her rise. "I have often thought the same of you."
"What a life I must lead!" she cried, smiling. "A husband who turns all my teasing into pretty compliments, and lets me read whatever I like. What woman could stand such treatment?"
Unwilling to expend the energy to respond in kind, he stopped her with a kiss instead.
Some time and very little talking later, they were sitting together in her bed, Darcy toying with her loosened curls as she leaned against him. He took up the book she had been reading before. He had not read it in a long time, but one of the poems came to mind. While he found it, Elizabeth sat up, looking curiously at the page while he read.
"To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
In whom both beauties to my death agree,
Joining themselves in fatal harmony;
That while she with her eyes my heart does bind,
She with her voice might captivate my mind.
"I could have fled from one but singly fair,
My disentangled soul itself might save,
Breaking the curled trammels of her hair.
But how should I avoid to be her slave,
Whose subtle art invisibly can wreath
My fetters of the very air I breathe?
"It had been easy fighting in some plain,
Where victory might hang in equal choice,
But all resistance against her is vain,
Who has th’advantage both of eyes and voice,
And all my forces needs must be undone,
She having gained both the wind and sun."
It was unlike anything else he had read her, and her eyes were wide when she looked up at him. He did not know then, nor did he ever discover, why he was so moved in that moment. It was the closest he had come to telling her how he felt, and in his heart he knew that it was time to cross the Rubicon; in fact, he had already waded in.
"Elizabeth," he said, touching her cheek, "I cannot – I cannot hide myself from you. I fear I never have, but I must speak. I must tell you how much I love you."
He hardly knew what to expect in response, but he was deeply surprised when tears welled up in her eyes. "Lizzy," he said, cupping her face and brushing tears away when they fell, "have I wronged you?"
She shook her head, obviously overcome. After a few minutes, she calmed herself enough to speak. "Your aunt tried to tell me this."
Darcy frowned. "Which aunt?"
Elizabeth let out a helpless laugh. "Aunt Matlock. She said you were – bewitched."
"How could I be otherwise?" Darcy leaned in to kiss her lips gently. "But why should this make you cry?"
She pressed her lips together and frowned. "May I be honest with you?"
"Always."
"I do not know if I return your feelings." She would not look at him, even pulling his hand away when he tried to lift her chin. "I cannot name what I feel for you, and I will not lie to you."
He was disappointed; he could not deny that. Yet he knew she felt affection and respect for him. Love could not be so far off as to be unattainable.
Without another word he put out the candles and pulled the curtains to on his side of the bed. She did the same, and when he reached for her, she went willingly into his arms. Long after she was asleep, he was still contemplating what had happened. She had not found his confession repulsive, which was a relief in itself. He preferred that she had not lied to him, but found it curious that she was upset to tell him the truth.
He had married her because it was the right thing to do. He would have treated her well and tried to be a good husband to her because his sense of honor would allow no less. Even if she never came to love him the way he loved her, he would do whatever was in his power to make this a good marriage. When he let loose his imagination, he pictured real, lasting happiness with Elizabeth, his beloved wife always at his side while their children filled Pemberley with laughter.
But he wanted more; he knew that now. Darcy knew he could not command her love, but he could make sure she was never in doubt of his. And perhaps, in time, he could win her heart.
She could not know it, but Jane had had the right of it months ago. Lizzy had liked Darcy beyond prudence at Ramsgate, and liking might have grown to love quickly enough, despite all her misgivings. It was obvious to anyone who spoke with them more than a quarter hour that they were vastly suited to one another. It was a great match for her with respect to fortune, but an even better for him, for Elizabeth had no ambitions save to be happy, and see those around her made happy too.
But the natural course of things had been stunted when Wickham followed her out of the assembly. Her husband was dear to her as no one outside her family ever had been before. She had respect for his mind, gratitude for his kindness, and desire for him. It would be easy to call that love, she thought, but was it in truth?
In the last year or two, she had come to recognize the great inequality in her parents' marriage, how ill-suited they were to domestic peace with each other. It could not be right that child should see that father did not respect mother, nor mother understand father. Elizabeth could not comprehend how either parent had made such a grave error, but it had convinced her that love, or something like it, might not be enough.
And yet her husband's brief, impassioned confession had moved her to tears. Months ago, when they were first at Pemberley, she had resolved to guard herself, but to hear that he loved her opened up the possibility that she could trust him with her heart, as he had trusted her with his.
She ached to know for sure, but how? For a moment she thought to talk to Jane, but as much as she adored her sister, she knew they were not alike in all things. And Jane had not struggled with her heart; Mallory had wooed her and won her as she deserved. Seeking her mother's counsel was out of the question, but there was perhaps someone in her family in whom she could confide.
Her aunt Gardiner was very busy with all her guests, but when Lizzy arrived early and asked to speak, she put everything aside and walked out with her into the courtyard. The weather was mild enough that they could stay out there in privacy for some minutes. They talked of trivialities at first as they walked along the cobblestones, past the empty flower beds and pots. But Mrs. Gardiner knew something was wrong, and she came to the point soon. "Lizzy, what is the matter? I know you must have something particular on your mind."
Elizabeth bit her lip and took her aunt's hand. "Darcy told me last night that he loves me."
"Oh!" cried Mrs. Gardiner, covering her mouth briefly in surprise. "Oh, Lizzy, it is as I hoped. I knew he would always be good to you, but I do not know if he could make you happy if he did not love you as you deserve."
"I did not know what to say to him," Lizzy confessed. "He understood, and I know he would not want me to dissemble, but I wish I could honestly say it in return."
Her aunt smiled on her kindly. "You have never made things easy for yourself, have you?" she teased. "Your uncle and I were worried about you in Ramsgate, you know."
"You did not think me in love with him then, surely."
"We wondered. When had you ever shown such interest in a young man? To be sure, I doubt you had ever met a man so uniquely suited to you, but you seemed fascinated."
"I was," Lizzy confessed, feeling as young as her years. "No young man had ever asked for my opinion and seemed interested in it. He was so kind to me, so happy to be with all of us. And sometimes he seemed... Lady Matlock told me he was able to help me at the assembly because he had been watching me."
"He did, and often," Aunt Gardiner confirmed. "You never did tell me of your dance with him."
The ladies sat down on a bench as Elizabeth sighed. "Oh, Aunt," she said, "would you believe that I was completely tongue-tied?"
Aunt Gardiner laughed. "Yes, I would! For the first time I danced with your uncle, I could not speak a word for shyness either."
Elizabeth found herself blushing again. "How did you know that you loved him?"
"I cannot tell you," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "I wish I could, but it is not so simple. But do you not remember what Scripture tells us? 'There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.'"
"I do not fear him, Aunt."
"I know, but love casts out doubt too."
Lizzy stayed outside a few minutes after her aunt returned to the house, knowing what awaited her inside. Darcy had brought her, and he was waiting for her in the sitting room. He had a book in his hand, which he threw aside when she returned. Elizabeth gave him a small smile to reassure him, but he still pulled her close the moment they were alone. "Lizzy, are you well?" he asked, nervous concern written all over him.
"Of course," she replied. "I only wanted to speak to my aunt, on a matter of some delicacy."
Darcy still frowned. "Is there something..."
Belatedly she realized what he must have assumed, when she asked to come here and have a private conversation with an older female relative. "Forgive me, Fitzwilliam," she said. "I did not mean to raise... expectations."
He smiled ruefully. "I have only a too active imagination to blame, dearest."
He pulled her into an embrace, and Elizabeth relaxed in his arms. It was not a subject they had often discussed, but she knew his mind. As much as he loved his sister, she was not his peer. He did not want to see his own children live in the same solitude.
Maggie Gardiner burst into the room then, startling them out of their quiet moment. Little Maggie had become quite convinced at some point that Darcy was her very own friend and no one else's, and could rarely be put off when she demanded his attention. Darcy stepped away from his wife so he could swing Maggie into the air till she shrieked with joy and begged, "Again, Uncle Darcy, again!"
Elizabeth covered her mouth as she laughed. Darcy swung her up high again and looked at Elizabeth curiously. "Did she call me Uncle Darcy?"
"My aunt tells me she cannot convince Maggie that you ought to be Cousin Darcy," Elizabeth replied. "She has decided, so Uncle Darcy you will be."
Maggie continued begging, but Darcy settled her in his arms and drew Elizabeth with them to a sofa. She kissed his cheek fondly before resting her head upon his shoulder, while he let Maggie play with his watch. With the child thus occupied, Darcy said lowly, "I should like to name our first child Margaret, for your aunt."
"Are you sure? He will probably be picked on awfully."
He let out a sigh. "You are impossible."
"Yes, but you love me for it."
"That I do."
Mary and Jane came in then, much more quietly than their little cousin, and much more aware that they might be interrupting something. Mrs. Bennet was not far behind. Lizzy was sitting up by then, but Darcy would not release her hand, so she did not try to distance herself. "Oh, do you not make a handsome picture there?" she said, a pleased smile upon her face. "Lizzy, do tell us where you got the lace on that frock! It would look very well on Jane."
Maggie gave up the watch and moved instead to throw her arms around Darcy's neck, though it was a deceptive move, for the change in position allowed her to watch the street through the window behind them. "Oh, Maggie, do not be so unruly!" Mrs. Bennet snapped, but Darcy held up his hand.
"It is no trouble, madam," he said. "She has not bothered me."
Lizzy tried to hold in her amusement as she watched her mother's face. She wanted to contradict, for gentlemen were not supposed to be so easy with children, and children were better off in the nursery while guests were about, but she did not want to oppose her son-in-law, who after all was a rather imposing figure of a man, despite his years.
"Ah, Darcy!" Mr. Gardiner said, coming into the room. "My wife said you were here."
"Pleased to see you too, Uncle," Lizzy said very primly.
While everyone laughed, Gardiner came and kissed her cheek. "Always a pleasure, Mrs. Darcy, always a pleasure."
The nurse came in soon to take Maggie back above stairs, which the child did most reluctantly. Around the room, plans were being made, but before long Darcy leaned close to Elizabeth and whispered, "Come with me."
A little startled, she said, "Where?"
"That is a secret."
There was a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth as he lifted her fingers to a kiss. She could hardly resist him in this mood, so she nodded without another word.
Darcy rose then and made his apologies to Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet, but he and Lizzy had business which could not be put off. The next day being Christmas, they would all see each other, at the Gardiners' dinner.
Georgiana and Kitty were with the Gardiners and Bennets for the day, so Lizzy and Darcy found themselves quite alone, and masters of their time. To her surprise and delight, when they returned home, he had the curricle hitched and absconded with her for a drive in the countryside. It was too late in the year for anything very picturesque, but Elizabeth was all too happy to find this impulsiveness in her husband. In Ramsgate, he had been prone to throw over the day's plans when it became apparent that something else would give her pleasure–
She felt like a fool for not having seen it before, and could not have been more blind if she had been in love with him. Nothing had changed to prompt his words; he had loved her all the time! It was not just the fancy of their aunts. The love he had professed the night before was far more than the work of the moment.
He brought the horses to a stop at the crest of a hill, from which they could see London and the country beyond if they looked back. When she had taken in the view, she turned her husband's face to her and kissed him soundly, caring not if anyone came by and saw.
His eyes were dark when he drew back. "It would not do if we ran away together, would it?"
"We are married," she pointed out, "so it would not be so dreadfully improper."
"That is true," he agreed, "but we promised my aunt we would dine with her this evening."
"We should not disappoint her."
Darcy laughed. "I am almost as afraid of disappointing her as I am of disappointing you."
She smiled with him as he brought the horses round. In the coming weeks she would recognize that this was the moment when the embers of doubt finally began to die away, but for now she was content, and that was more than enough.
Taking the carriage to the Matlocks' house on the other side of the square would have been quite ridiculous, except the Darcys first went to Gracechurch Street to bring Jane for dinner. It was to be a small affair, only the earl and countess, the Darcys, Jane, and Mallory. But there was a surprise waiting for them. "Fitzwilliam!" Darcy cried, seeing his cousin and forgetting himself.
"Yes, that is my name," his cousin replied. "How do you do, Darcy?"
"Very well, Fitzwilliam," Darcy said, shaking hands with him most warmly. "Come, let me introduce you to my wife."
"I came here with no other purpose."
Richard's joking aside, he was all pleasure to meet Elizabeth and Jane both. Elizabeth and he were friends from the start, and as they were all moving to the dining room, Richard pulled Darcy aside. "However did you convince her to marry you, Darcy?" he asked, only half in jest. "She is utterly charming."
"Is she not?" Darcy replied, smiling.
They were just sitting down when they all heard a commotion at the door. A deep contralto voice echoed down the corridor, and Darcy froze. A quick look at his pale-faced wife told him that she too recognized that voice.
Lord Matlock was on his feet before Lady Catherine stormed in. "Catherine," he said, with barely a veneer of civility, while the younger men rose. "What an honor. Will you not join us?"
"I will not, brother," she said, chin high. "Is it true? Is my nephew, the next earl of Matlock, set to marry the sister of that heartless schemer who took Darcy away from my daughter?"
The earl was ready to defend himself and his family, but Elizabeth made it quite unnecessary. "I am neither heartless nor scheming, Lady Catherine, and I should prefer it if you did not insult my sister," she said.
"Rudeness and ignorance! Darcy, how do you tolerate this in your wife?"
"I should not, if I saw either rudeness or ignorance," Darcy said sharply, though it did not calm the situation, nor even deflect his aunt's ire away from his wife.
"That is your sister, then?" Lady Catherine said, nodding at Jane, whose eyes were downcast. "This is madness, Mallory, madness! How can a girl of her breeding possibly be the wife you need?"
"Aunt, you cannot be the judge of my happiness," said Mallory, probably the only man in the room who could respond to such an insult with equanimity. "Jane is my choice; my father gives his blessing; what can it be to you? Were you planning to throw Anne at me, now that Darcy cannot marry her?"
"I will not listen to such insolence! Brother, you must prevent this folly! You cannot allow our family's name to be sullied by such a girl, doubtless as impoverished in principles as she is in fortune!"
Elizabeth bolted up from her chair, her eyes full of fury. "Your quarrel is with me, madam!" she cried. Darcy was immobile from shock; he could not remember anyone speaking thus to his aunt. But he knew from his own experience that nothing quickened Elizabeth's anger faster than slighting Jane. His aunt had no idea what she had done. "Do not insult my sister, who has never in her life given harm to anyone. You are angry with me; so be it. But I will not stand for your abuse of my dearest sister, simply because I married your nephew!"
"Will you be happy when you have made him all things contemptible, girl?" Lady Catherine continued. "Will his money comfort you when you are barred from all good society? Will anyone show you kindness, when you have stepped so far beyond your sphere, and taken what was rightfully someone else's?"
"I have done nothing of the kind, Lady Catherine," Elizabeth said. "I care nothing for society's opinion, or my husband's money. He offered himself to me freely, and I accepted him. I have a husband who loves me; what can compare to that?"
She was trembling by the end of that speech, but she held Lady Catherine's gaze unwaveringly, and it was Lady Catherine who gave in. "Very well, Mallory," she said, brushing at imaginary dirt on her traveling clothes. "You will do what you like whether you have the family's blessing or not. Be a fool if it suits you."
She swept out of the room before Mallory could say that it suited him very well. Once the door was closed again, all but the Darcys had something to say; Darcy did not listen. He was two seats down from his wife, but when she swayed on her feet, he was the first to her side. "Lizzy!" he cried, catching her with an arm around her waist.
"I am well, I am well," she was repeating, even as the family closed in on her in concern. "Please, Darcy, let me sit."
He helped her back into her chair and knelt by her side. Jane handed him Elizabeth's wine glass, and he pressed her to take it. "Dearest, you are not well," he said lowly.
She drank the wine and set the glass aside with a steady hand. "Perhaps I am a little shaken," she admitted, "but I have not had a bite to eat since breakfast. I suspect therein lies the culprit."
"Then we should forget this unpleasantness at once," said Matlock, "and go back to this excellent meal before it is cold."
Reluctantly Darcy rose from her side. Jane, without a word, moved into his former seat and allowed him to sit next to his wife. "I should like to raise a toast, Father," Richard said, when the room was calm again. "To Mrs. Darcy, the dragon-slayer."
There was much chuckling as the glasses were raised.
It was late before they took Jane back to Gracechurch Street, trying to banish the memory of the evening's unpleasantness. The ride back to Cavendish Square was silent, while Darcy utterly failed to forget his aunt's unpardonable interruption. Yet it was Lizzy his thoughts dwelt upon most. Lizzy, who with all the fierceness of a lioness stood up to defend not herself, but her sister. She was fearless, utterly fearless.
Her words, her looks, played over and over in his mind as his valet helped him from his coat. He dismissed the man, though, wanting solitude. It had been an eventful day, but as his thoughts turned to the morning, he wondered at his wife's assertion that she had no expectations at present. She had nearly collapsed after Lady Catherine swept away; her explanation was sensible, but Darcy could not help but wonder. And hope.
Elizabeth slipped into the room without knocking, and she stood near the door while he decided between two books for their evening reading. When he looked up at her, though, hair loose about her shoulders, dressing gown open to reveal the delicate nightgown underneath, he forgot entirely that he had been looking at books at all. When she smiled at him, he crossed the room without knowing how and pulled her into a frantic kiss.
She responded to him eagerly, wildly, and hunger for her flared to life uncontrollably. For months he had told himself that he needed to be gentle with her, but this night was testing his resolve. How was he to act as he ought when her every touch seemed calculated to tempt him? Not thinking, he propelled her back, pushing her into the wall as his mouth moved greedily down her neck. She gasped his name, and Darcy pulled back in alarm. "Forgive me, Lizzy," he managed.
She shook her head. "You cannot break me, Fitzwilliam," she replied. "I am not glass, and never have been."
Understanding her, he nodded. He did strive for calm, for patience, and they did read a little before bed. But the last of his restraint was gone, for it served no purpose now.
In another six weeks they were back in Hertfordshire, where Elizabeth shed tears at Jane's wedding, and rejoiced to be the first to embrace her Ladyship. Jane had transcended mere beauty in her happiness as a bride; even Mallory seemed in awe of her. Elizabeth clung to her husband's arm, strongly suspecting that Darcy was trying not to laugh at her. "They look so well together," she said to him quietly.
It was snowing lightly outside the church, and Darcy drew her closer. "They do," he said, before turning his eye to her. "Are you warm enough, my love?"
She nodded. "Only worried about what it is like at Pemberley."
No one was paying the least attention to them, not while Jane and Mallory lingered at the door. Darcy took advantage of the moment and kissed her briefly. "My steward says there is above foot of snow already."
At Lizzy's look of alarm, he only smiled.
They left that afternoon, not long after Lord and Lady Mallory departed. Georgiana and Kitty came with them, the girls spending the long days of travel reading a novel to each other. Darcy would, once in a while, take a volume from them and insist they skip forward several pages, but fortunately the girls thought this amusing and not offensive. Lizzy was rather more indignant than they, for she would have liked to have read those pages for herself.
By the time they reached Pemberley, Elizabeth was very happy to have her feet on the ground again, for the days of travel had been harder this time than after her own wedding. Her husband, dear man that he was, had noticed, and his solicitousness brought him to her side after she had changed from her traveling clothes. She had not wanted to tell him this until she was certain, but she bade him sit by the fire, as she told him her hopes that a child would be born to them in the autumn.
"You still wish to name the poor boy Margaret?" she asked, when he said nothing.
He caught her wrist and pulled her down to his lap, where he whispered such sweet things in her ear that she utterly forgot how to tease him for fully ten minutes.
So the weeks passed by; storms might rage without, but the family party within Pemberley's walls was all warmth and laughter. Darcy had always been attentive to her, but impending fatherhood brought him into sharper focus. Yet in those early days, as he tried to help her through the sickness brought by her condition, she caught sight of an expression she had seen sometimes in Ramsgate, sometimes at Longbourn, and at last understood. He drew within himself when too much around him spiraled out of his control. If he looked grave now, it was because he was concerned about her and their child.
As the time drew near for them to return to London, his somberness increased. "I do not like to go," he told her flatly. "If you think you are not well enough, we will not."
"Darcy, do not be absurd; it does not suit you," she answered with a smile. "Besides, I wish to see Rachel and Beckett's baby. Do you not?"
Darcy grudgingly agreed.
A week later, they were sitting in the Matlocks' drawing room, Lizzy discussing her own condition with Rachel and Lady Matlock in hushed voices. But soon her attention was arrested by her husband, who sat, in disregard of the world around him, with his cousin's child in his arms. Elizabeth had already cooed over the beautiful little boy, but there was something infinitely dearer about the sight of Darcy cradling the infant. The boy reached a hand up, grabbing Darcy's chin, and Darcy smiled.
How she longed to see her own child in his arms, she could not tell, but the moment was far greater than it appeared to those around them. Like Darcy's realization all those months ago, Lizzy's hit her with all the force of a conclusion both simple and inevitable, so rational that she could not believe it had taken her so long to see things for what they were. Now it only remained to tell him what he so deserved to hear.
That night he gave her a perfect opportunity. "Will you not read to me tonight?" he asked, while they sat before the fire. Over the winter she had started reading to him, so the request was not a new one. Lizzy chose her book with care, one to which she had returned often over the months of their marriage.
"Send me some tokens, that my hope may live
Or that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest;
Send me some honey, to make sweet my hive,
That in my passions I may hope the best.
I beg nor ribbon wrought with thine own hands,
To knit our loves in the fantastic strain
Of new-touch'd youth; nor ring to show the stands
Of our affection, that, as that's round and plain,
So should our loves meet in simplicity;
No, nor the corals, which thy wrist enfold,
Laced up together in congruity,
To show our thoughts should rest in the same hold;
No, nor thy picture, though most gracious,
And most desired, 'cause 'tis like the best;
Nor witty lines, which are most copious,
Within the writings which thou hast address'd.
Send me nor this nor that, to increase my score–"
He looked up when she stopped reading, and she answered his concerned frown with a small smile. "'But swear thou think'st I love thee,'" she finished, looking only at him, "'and no more.'"
She had no words to describe his look of wonder. "Do not trifle with me, Lizzy," he said, his voice strained.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I could not, not in this."
He touched her cheek, as tentatively as the first time he touched her. "Then say it."
"I love you," she told him. "I fear I have loved you much longer than I knew."
"That is well," said he, "for I cannot say when I first loved you. I only know that I love you now, and always shall."
Elizabeth was overcome, almost as overcome as she was the first time he told her that he loved her. For once she could not speak; the only proper response was to kiss him. Soon she was kneeling over him, kissing him again and again while he held her close.
"I love you, Fitzwilliam," she breathed, resting her cheek against his.
"My precious wife," he murmured. "I love you, far more than I can say."
Darcy never tired of hearing those words, nor of saying them.
They stayed in town only as long as absolutely necessary, as it suited neither of them to live perpetually on display for society. Even so, Elizabeth's condition was beginning to show, to those who knew to look, by the time they left.
"I will not miss London," she said, leaning against him as they headed north. "Although if you could tempt an opera company to relocate to Lambton, I should not object."
"I will ask Mallory to help. His mother would be thrilled to have a company within a day's drive."
She laughed, and he kissed the top of her head. The total lack of reserve between them no longer felt strange; in fact, quite the reverse. Even in the months since her confession of love, they had fought, but they had been honest. He had never imagined being so open with another person, and now he could not imagine being without his partner and confidante.
At Pemberley they were not inseparable, but it was more common than not to find the mistress working in the master's study with him. Mrs. Reynolds commented once to Darcy at how seamlessly he and his wife worked together, and he could not keep a grin off his face. He had as much to do as ever before, but Elizabeth, sometimes with nothing more than her presence, lightened the burdens of his responsibilities. He strove to give her the same support, to fulfill the vows he had made to her.
At the same time, he tried to keep his worries to himself as much as possible. Elizabeth was as healthy and active as ever as she carried his child, but he could not really help himself. As he had told her once, when they were first married, he did not like a situation he could not control, and this one was as far out of his power as any could be. So he devoted himself to her comfort; though she resisted his coddling at first, eventually she gave in, hoping to ease his fears.
By the time they received word that Mrs. Gardiner had safely delivered a son, it was time for Elizabeth to enter her own confinement. Jane and Mallory came then, and her mother was not far behind. Mrs. Bennet was still a silly woman, but she did know about bringing children into the world, and Elizabeth seemed to derive some comfort from her mother's presence.
Pemberley had more guests that late summer than Darcy could remember even from his childhood. All the Bennets were there, along with the Matlocks and his cousins. It seemed like a great fuss for such a small person, but when the time finally came, Darcy was more anxious than any of them. Fitzwilliam and Mallory kept Darcy from going for new information at every moment, but it was his uncle and Elizabeth's father who managed to keep him somewhat calm. His immediate worry was the safety of his wife and child, but new worries were creeping in. He had guardianship over his sister, but he was swiftly realizing that that was not the same as being a father. Georgiana had occasionally alarmed him, but nothing in his previous experience could compare to the well of nervous terror now in him.
The time came long before he could quell the anxiety in his heart. Jane brought the news that Elizabeth and the baby were both well. After hearing the congratulations of all gathered that night, Darcy hurried to his wife's side.
Elizabeth was clearly exhausted, but there was a fire in her eyes which he had never seen before. He looked to the bundle in her arms and could not look away. When he sat next to her on the bed, she pulled the blanket back so he could see the babe's face. "My darling girl, this is your papa," she said happily.
"A girl," he said, smiling as he reached to touch the impossibly soft tufts of dark hair on the baby's head. "She is so beautiful, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth nodded. "I thought we could call her Meg, if you think my aunt's name still suits her."
"Meg," he repeated. "I like that very much."
She shifted the baby to his arms and watched them with a tired smile. Their daughter was so tiny, yet the weight of her did not seem so insignificant. She needed them in ways neither of them could yet imagine, and Darcy found himself filled with inexplicable and utterly unconditional love for the child shifting restlessly in his arms. His own eyes filled with tears, and he looked away.
Elizabeth's hand touched his cheek and compelled him to look back. She was crying too. "I love you," he murmured, turning to kiss her palm, and forgetting there was ever a time when those words were not true.
Epilogue
When Darcy's friend Bingley spoke of letting Netherfield Park in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth gave him such a glowing recommendation that he nearly took the place sight unseen. Darcy laughed at their enthusiasm and reminded Elizabeth that she had not lived in Hertfordshire in four years. Elizabeth conceded that much could have happened in that time; why, the place could be in ruins, if her mother's assertions about the previous tenants were not wildly overstated.
The Darcys, who had not seen Elizabeth's family since Mary's wedding the previous winter, were due a visit. It took little persuading to get Darcy to ride to Meryton with Bingley to look at the place. They came back with the news that Bingley had closed with the attorney and would take possession at Michaelmas. Elizabeth was thrilled, and not the least surprised. "Is it not delightful country?" she asked her husband's friend. "Though I must warn you, my mother will try to marry you off to one of my sisters."
Darcy looked alarmed, but the good-natured Bingley only laughed. "If your sisters can compare to yourself or Lady Mallory, I think I should not mind."
Barely keeping her countenance, Elizabeth looked to her husband. "What say you, Darcy? Can Kitty or Lydia compare to Jane or myself?"
"I know better than to answer that, Elizabeth," he replied drolly. "Except to say that no woman compares to my wife."
"Pretty words, Darcy."
"I speak nothing but the truth, my dear."
In the two years since meeting them, Bingley had come to expect such little shows of teasing affection between the Darcys. There were some among their acquaintance who thought them curious, for she was all liveliness and he was all reserve. Yet those who really knew them saw that she was not incapable of gravity, nor he of levity. Their marriage was reckoned a happy one, and if some did not comprehend them, it was hardly their concern.
Bingley went ahead of them into Hertfordshire, his family and the Darcys to follow in a week. Miss Bingley tried to invite herself into the Darcys' carriage rather than travel with her sister Hurst, until she realized that the Darcy children would be with their parents and aunt. Armed with that knowledge, she could not get to the Hursts' carriage quickly enough.
Elizabeth found Caroline more amusing than not. She was so eager to be accepted by them, because their acceptance might mean entrance into the Fitzwilliams' circle. Yet she had a great deal of difficulty accepting them. Darcy she certainly would have liked better unmarried; Georgiana she would have liked more timid and malleable. Lizzy would hardly venture a guess about herself. So Darcy was civil, Georgiana was kind, and Elizabeth tried not to inflict the children on her too often, though the results were always sure to amuse her.
There was to be an assembly in Meryton the evening after their arrival, and Miss Bingley was all attention to her guests, especially Georgiana. But she was horrified when Elizabeth began that morning by walking three miles from Netherfield to Longbourn, not wanting to wait a moment to see her family again, even though Darcy came with the children an hour later.
Mrs. Bennet's reaction to Lizzy's wild appearance at Longbourn would have rivaled Miss Bingley's. "Six inches deep in mud! Oh, Lizzy, whatever will I do with you?" her mother cried, even as they embraced.
Her sisters were happy to see her despite her muddy petticoats, but her father had the warmest greeting of all for her. He embraced her, kissed the top of her head, and said, "I am glad you are come back, Lizzy. Perhaps I will hear sense now and then, with you at Netherfield."
"Papa," she said, knowing he was not serious. Her younger sisters had spent more than half their time with her household or Jane's in the last four years. Separated from an indulgent mother and indolent father, all three had improved vastly over what they had been as younger girls. Mary had wed a quite sensible clergyman from Staffordshire; Kitty had had a lovely Season in town with the Mallorys as sponsors. Lydia had done what none of her sisters had, and gone to school.
She was just approaching her parents with a scheme to take Lydia to Ireland next summer when the carriage turned into the sweep. Elizabeth went out to greet her family, and soon Georgiana alighted with little Margaret holding her hand. Darcy himself carried baby James up to the house. "Georgiana, I did not think to see you here," Lizzy said, while Meg showed her the very pretty leaves she and her papa had found at Netherfield after breakfast.
Georgiana looked unaccountably nervous. "Is it very wicked of me, Lizzy, that I hope I do not have to spend too much time with Miss Bingley while we are here?"
Lizzy laughed. "No, only a little wicked."
"I do not find this very amusing, sister," Georgiana continued. "I wish she were a little friendlier to you, and a little less to my brother."
"I may wish that too, Georgiana, but I do not doubt my husband."
"Oh! I did not mean – that is – I know how he loves you. He has always loved you."
Darcy was waiting for them at the door, but Lizzy thought perhaps her sister needed to hear something at last. Over the last year, as they prepared for Georgiana to come out, it had become clear that the girl had set up her brother's marriage as a sort of ideal, not understanding what those early months were like, nor even the circumstances that made it necessary.
Sending Meg to her father, Elizabeth steered Georgiana into the gardens for some privacy. "You were twelve, were you not, when we met?"
"Yes," said Georgiana, in some confusion. "My father had died only a year before."
"There were certain things Fitzwilliam and I decided to keep from you, and I know you have drawn your own conclusions about that summer. But I think the time has come for you to know."
So Elizabeth told Georgiana everything that happened. Georgiana listened in some shock as Elizabeth told how her marriage to Fitzwilliam had come about, and at the end, Elizabeth feared she had shattered all her sister's romantic ideals. "But I do not understand," the girl said, clinging to Elizabeth's hands. "I thought..."
"I know," Elizabeth said kindly. "Do not be deceived now: I love your brother more than I thought it was possible to love. He has made me happier than I can express. But those early months were difficult, for we did not know each other, nor how to speak to each other."
Georgiana did not understand that either, and Elizabeth found herself remembering her aunt Gardiner's admonition, that some things could only be understood in the moment. "You are coming out next Season, sister, and I thought it best that you do so with your eyes open. Do you know what your aunt Matlock said to me, the first time I spoke with her?" Georgiana shook her head. "She told me, and I quite agree, that ignorance can only cause harm, especially to ladies. I would not make you afraid, but I would have you understand."
At Georgiana's request, Elizabeth left her in the garden to think, with a promise to talk with her again at some later date. She came back inside and followed the sound of Meg in very earnest conversation with her grandfather, who had found that he loved teasing his clever little granddaughter above all else. Mrs. Bennet was holding her grandson while Kitty admired him and sketched his likeness.
In this intimate little scene, Darcy drew near his wife. "Have you forgotten how to ride, Mrs. Darcy?"
"You could hardly expect me to trust those wild things Mr. Bingley buys, even for his sister," she told him. "My feet take me everywhere here. You know the way of it."
James was soon wailing for his mamma, so Elizabeth was obliged to take him out of the parlor and into the quiet of the corridor where he could fall asleep. There her father followed her. "You used to sleep like that," he said.
Elizabeth smiled. James was sucking his thumb, eyes only half closed, and occasionally he would make a little snuffling sound. "I will never tire of this," she said, kissing her son's head softly, lest he wake.
"You are happy, Lizzy," her father said gruffly.
Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. "Of course, Father." Had he not come to Pemberley often, when he was least expected? Had he not seen the peace and joy in their home?
"I shall always worry about you, my girl," he replied. "Sometimes I still remember the boy telling me you should want for nothing as his wife. I prayed he would learn that all his money could not bring you, of all people, happiness."
Elizabeth gave her father a small smile, before she shifted her sleeping son into his arms. "Papa, he loves me very much, and I love him," she said. "You will tell me that is not always enough, and I know that. But he holds me in high honor, as something more than his wife and the mother of his children. I have come to respect him as much as I love him."
That gave her father a little solace, although his little grandson might have had as much to do with it. "I am glad you are come, Lizzy," he said, and she smiled, understanding what he would not say.
At the assembly that night, Darcy found himself greeted by nearly everyone of his acquaintance in the county. Miss Bingley found it quite shocking that he had ever condescended to socialize in the area; he wondered if she thought he spent all his time writing letters and reading when he came to visit his wife's family.
He danced the first with his sister, who was not quite out but allowed to dance at this small country assembly. After that he thought to claim his wife for a dance, but it was not to be. They were both so busy with friends that it was not until the last dance of the night that he was able to lead her to the floor. "I see you have danced far more than normal tonight," she said to him, taking his hand.
"I am not permitted to spend an entire assembly watching you and your partners."
"No, that would not do at all," Elizabeth said, laughing as he repeated her own words. "Have you enjoyed yourself this evening?"
"I have," he said, knowing his surprise was evident in his voice. Meryton society would always be unrefined, but his wife loved this place and its people, so he would strive to enjoy it too.
They had a great deal they needed to speak on, but the assembly was hardly the place. Georgiana had asked to talk with him about that summer at Ramsgate. There was no time that afternoon, but since then he had reflected that he hardly ever thought of that or George Wickham anymore. After the birth of their little Margaret, it had seemed impossible that they had married to preserve Elizabeth's honor. They loved each other too much to think there was any other reason.
They never spoke much while they danced, which had confused nearly everyone who ever saw them dance together. Darcy always found that his thoughts were too happily situated to bother with speaking. Elizabeth never failed to understand how he admired her; indeed, he found her lovelier now than he did when they met. Bearing children had given her a more fashionable figure, but it was more than that. Her countenance was full of grace and joy, and she could not help affecting all those around her.
When the final dance of the night ended, Darcy drew his wife close. "Husband?" she said in playful inquiry.
"Wife," he replied in kind, kissing her fingers, pleased that he could still make her blush.
But she had some small retaliation in mind. With a hand upon his shoulder, she rose up to speak low in his ear. "'His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely,'" she quoted.
Darcy felt color rising in his face, but he could not leave her unchallenged, nor the verse half-quoted. "'This is my beloved," said he, meeting her remarkably fine eyes, "'and this is my friend.'"
The poems quoted in this story, in order of appearance:"Holy Sonnet XIV", John Donne
"The Fair Singer", Andrew Marvell
"The Token", John Donne
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