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Chapter One
Elizabeth Darcy sat with a sigh. For the first time in a week it was not a sigh of contentment, but rather a sigh of resignation. She was about to undergo what she felt would be the worst of her duties as Mistress of Pemberley. She stared woefully at the reflection in the looking glass above her dressing table.
"Mornin', Mrs. Darcy." her maid cheerfully greeted her. "I've got your new cream frock ready for you as requested, ma'am."
"Thank you, Lucy," Elizabeth replied as she stood to don her dress with the aide of her new maid. Once she was completely dressed, she sat back down and Lucy began brushing her hair.
"How do you want me to fix your hair today, ma'am?"
"Nothing to fancy today. I'm afraid it will be hidden under this." Elizabeth raised a white lace cap and eyed it angrily. "Though I hate the site of it I will wear it as a married women is expected to hide her hair."
As Elizabeth was saying this, Lucy was pinning up her long, dark hair. She reached for the cap and began securing it in place. Elizabeth could not bear to look in the mirror as this was done.
"There, ma'am," Lucy stated, proud of her work. "Will you be needing anythin' more?"
"No, thank you," replied Elizabeth, still not bringing herself to look at her reflection. She stared at her hands until she heard the door close behind Lucy. She then steeled herself and raised her eyes.
She almost cried.
Exactly eight days ago her mother had summoned Elizabeth and her sister Jane into her sitting room. They had thought they were going to have to endure a tearful farewell, as their wedding day was the next day. They were dead wrong.
After nearly an hour of the most harrowing, not to mention downright embarrassing lecture either sister had ever heard, they were allowed to retire for the night. Both girls left their mothers room a few shades lighter than they had entered, and walked silently into Elizabeth's bedchamber.
"Oh Lizzie!" Jane softly exclaimed. "Can it really be so? I... I... I cannot believe Charles could do something so dreadful! Or Mr. Darcy! No. Mama must be mistaken."
"Really, Jane! She has much more experience than either of us. It must be true! And to think that we always thought the mystery of the wedding night to be a good thing! I think this shall be the worst duty as wife of the Master of Pemberley."
Elizabeth laughed now, despite her low feelings. "Oh, mama," she sighed." How wrong you were."
She blushed at the memory of that night. It was the same magical night that her beloved Fitzwilliam vowed that, though they had separate bedchambers, they would always occupy one bed together. It seemed neither could sleep unless they were cuddled together. Elizabeth found it amazing that she had ever had a decent night's sleep without the warm body of her husband sleeping beside her.
Elizabeth shook her head to clear it of her musings. It was at that moment when the enemy cap displayed its second offence. Aside from making her look years older and much less attractive (and, she shuddered to think, she was reminded of her mother every time she saw it), it restricted her usually bouncy curls from moving.
"If I were anyone else's wife I would refuse to wear this thing," she thought aloud. "However, I must not shame my Fitzwilliam by refusing to conform to at least some of society's standards."
With yet another sign of resignation, Elizabeth left her chambers to join her husband in the breakfast room of Pemberley.
Chapter Two
He stood and walked to the sideboard to pour a cup of tea. He paused to collect himself with a few deep breaths until he felt some of his self-control returning. Throwing all his concentration into making it back to the table without spilling the tea, Darcy decided to distract himself from the charms of his new wife for the first time in one week.
They had spent their wedding night in London and the next day had set out for Pemberley. Halfway home, it started to snow. They were forced to stop at an inn for the night. They woke the next morning to find the roads impassable and the countryside looking fresh with the purest white snow covering everything for miles. Darcy and Elizabeth had looked in awe at the sparkling landscape before them.
As soon as they had dressed and breakfasted and Darcy had confirmed that they would have to stay at least this day, they thought up ways to pass the time. They decided to walk up the street and window shop. Darcy could think of nothing more pleasant than showing off his beautiful bride. Well, almost nothing, but Elizabeth had convinced him that they should not spend the entire day in their room.
"Oh!" Elizabeth remarked at the stepped outside. "It looks like someone sprinkled millions of tiny diamonds all over!"
"That it does, my love," replied Fitzwilliam as he looked adoringly at his wife. "I am just glad they gave the brightest diamond to me! I dare say you are more radiant than all the diamonds in the world, my beloved Mrs. Darcy."
Elizabeth's deep blush and warm smile made Fitzwilliam Darcy feel such an intense love that he threw propriety to the wind and kissed his wife in plain view of the entire town (perhaps not too grand a scandal as the town was smaller than either Meryton or Lambton, but considering Darcy's public reserve, this is almost as bad as streaking naked through London's Hyde Park at the fashionable hour). When he pulled back, he noticed the blush and smile had left Elizabeth's face.
In their place was an impish grin and that look in her eyes.
Darcy groaned inwardly, wondering what was happening in that head of hers. He was surprised when she just started walking toward the shops. Breathing a sigh of relief, he started after her.
And that's when it hit him.
No, not a great idea or some other wonderful revelation, but a huge ball of snow. Square in the face. "So that is what she was grinning about," he thought. "Right. She asked for it!"
By the time he cleared off his face, she had run halfway across the town's square. He took off as fast as possible. He caught her in record time, which is not all that surprising considering his long legs and her long skirts. He knew he made a mistake as soon as his arm went around her waist.
The force of his arm was enough to knock Elizabeth off balance. She grabbed his arm as she began to fall. Belatedly, she realized that he, too, had slipped on some ice and was also falling.
They fell into each other's arms as they hit the soft snow. Darcy grabbed Elizabeth's shoulders and looked in earnest at her face. His concern that she was hurt disappeared with her laughter. He chuckled and helped her sit up. They were both covered in snow and had lost their hats. Elizabeth's hair had come loose and tumbled down over her shoulders. Darcy grabbed his hat and her bonnet after helping her to he feet.
"My beautiful snow nymph," he said as he raised his hand to her long mass of dark curls. He tore his eyes away from hers as she shivered. Remembering his manners, not to mention the cold snow melting on his rear, he offered his arm to his wife and led her back to the dry warmth of the inn.
Darcy smiled at the memory as he took another sip of tea. He barely felt it burn his tongue as he thought of her hair. It had captivated him for over a year. During the few altercations they had in the course of their courtship (it is Elizabeth and Darcy! You know it was not smooth sailing) he had discovered her silky curls had a more sinister purpose. In the midst of one argument, Elizabeth had turned quickly on her heel, causing the curls in the back of her head to whip Darcy sharply. He had requested she make him a riding crop using her hair. Oh how he loved her hair!
"Fine job you are doing, Darcy!" he harshly thought to himself. "I have ignored the business at Pemberley too long. I must work for a few hours today and not allow myself to be distracted. Pull yourself together, man!"
He filled his mouth with the slightly cooler, though still very hot tea, just as the door swung open, revealing his wife.
He didn't know what was worse, his wife in a cap or the sensation of scalding hot tea spraying out his nose.
Chapter Three
"Fitzwilliam!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Good God, are you all right? Here, let me help you with that. What happened?"
"Oh dear Lord that was most painful!" Darcy managed through tears. His nose hurt something fierce. "No, no, Mrs. Darcy. I am quite well. Or will be in a moment. Please, sit and give me a few seconds." After the initial shock of the burn wore down and most of the mess had been cleared up, Darcy turned back to his wife. "I dare say, Mrs. Darcy, you rather startled me when you walked through the door. I was lost in thought. It was a foolish and absent-minded thing to do."
Elizabeth looked at her husband wearily. "My love, something else is wrong. That was most unlike you. You are acting very strange."
"No, you are mistaken. I was just startled. You are the one acting strangely, Mrs. Darcy. I would have thought we would be laughing heartily by now. Are you feeling well?"
"Oh! Don't you dare turn this on me, sir! You know I would be quite diverted with this had it happened under normal circumstances. You do not believe you are acting in a strange manner?" Darcy shook his head. "Very well, Mister Darcy, I will point out your absurdities. First, when you are startled you merely look startled. You do not lose your composure and spray tea out your nostrils. Second, you were looking into my eyes and smiling when I first entered the room. You were completely aware of my arrival before I startled you. And third, which I find most disturbing, you called me Mrs. Darcy. Thrice! We have been at Pemberley for three days now. All the servants know my name is Elizabeth because that is the only name you have used when addressing me directly. I am only Mrs. Darcy when you are introducing me. Now I see that after only one week of joyful matrimony we have ceased to be on familiar terms with one another. And there you have it, sir. Yes, you are acting very strange indeed, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy was stunned. He couldn't believe she thought so low of his feelings for her. Didn't he know how ardently he admired and loved her? (Sorry, couldn't help it!) Had he really called her Mrs. Darcy three times? Had he really been so cold to her? Darcy began to feel ashamed. "I guess this means separate bedchambers from now on," he thought dejectedly. "But what did she expect? The last I saw of her she was curled up in our bed sleeping peacefully. Her hair was wild and visible, as it always should be. The next thing I know she's wearing that horrid cap. God forgive me, but she reminds me of her mother. Oh, she has to get rid of that! But who am I to challenge her desires? If she really wants to start wearing one of those I am not going to tell her otherwise. At least I will not be distracted by thoughts of her during the day. My problems with concentrating on business are unfounded now. Bravo, Elizabeth. You have succeeded in distracting me from you." Darcy glanced at his wife (and her cap) and found her staring at him. He realized he had yet to reply. He cleared his throat.
"You are quite right. I have some pressing matters of business today. I find myself rather preoccupied. Forgive me, but I fear I must retreat to my study. I shall be stuck there for the remainder of the morning with my steward. Perhaps you could get yourself better settled in your new home. Jane is probably anxious to hear from you. I shall have Mrs. Reynolds show you to your study. You shall find ample sheets of stationery and a variety of pens. When it comes time to seal them, use this."
Elizabeth, even less convinced of her husband's ease, due to the forced nature of his reply, took the object in Darcy's outstretched hand. Looking down, she saw it was a seal. A border of tiny roses surrounded the initials EBD. All other thoughts were gone as she stared at the gift.
"Oh! Fitzwilliam it is beautiful! Why, I thought of changing names and houses but never of needing a new seal. Thank you so very much." She smiled up at her husband.
Darcy couldn't help but smile back. The look of love radiating from her eyes was enough to draw his attention from the cap. "I am glad you like it, my dear. Unfortunately, it is time for us to part company for a few hours time. Enjoy your morning. I shall look forward to luncheon."
Darcy stood, smiled at Elizabeth, and left the room. Once outside the door, he let out a shaky breath. His nose still hurt. With as much composure as he could muster, he walked quickly to his study, telling a servant along the way to summon his steward. Upon reaching his study, he shut the door and began to pace. Though it was rather early, he grabbed a glass and filled it with port. The events of the morning were too much and he felt he needed the drink to halt the fragmented thoughts running through his brain. How could his Elizabeth do such a thing?
At the same time, Elizabeth sat alone at the table. "How could he do such a thing?" she thought angrily. "He sprays tea out his nose, calls me Mrs. Darcy, tries to act nonchalant about the whole deal, does something so incredibly romantic, then pulls the shade over his emotions as he practically runs from my sight without even kissing me good-bye. Something is wrong with him and I will figure it out."
Chapter Four
Darcy's steward, Mr. Winston, arrived as Darcy was finishing his last sip (gulp) of port. Raising an eyebrow, Winston queried of Darcy, "Port in the morning, sir? Drinking before business will not get you back to Mrs. Darcy sooner. Indeed, it will only prolong things, as you will be unable to concentrate, and I am positive that you will make some foolish decisions about the estate that will take even more time to rectify later."
Darcy glowered at his steward. "Winston," he declared rather loudly, "I am in no mood for teasing this morning. Let us just get to work."
Winston was surprised by this declaration, but pushed all thoughts to the back of his mind except those of business. The two spent the rest of the morning locked in the study.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth had been escorted to her own study. Thanking Mrs. Reynolds for her continued kindness toward her frequently lost new mistress, Elizabeth sat at her desk and pulled out some paper. Thinking for a moment, she picked up her pen and began to write her sister.
Dearest Mrs. Bingley,
Oh how I've longed to write that to you! Now that it is done I promise to address all my following letters to my Dearest Jane. Unless, of course, you prefer being called Mrs. Bingley.
How fares my dearest brother? It is my dearest wish that you and he are enjoying wedded bliss and are as agreeable as ever. It would appear that my own wedded state has erased my creativity for everything is "dearest" to me now. Having now thoroughly reprimanded myself, I continue.
Though we have been parted but one week, I find myself longing for your company. Oh Jane, what I would not give for your sound advice and constant comfort. Please, do not worry yourself about me. I am perfectly happy and well. I am a little distressed this morning, however. It would appear that after one week of kisses, loving looks a shared bed (how improper of me Please do not show this to mother!), and "Elizabeth," I have become a source of uneasiness for my husband. This morning he not only sprayed tea out his nose (yes, I speak of my Mr. Darcy and not of an imposter), but he called me Mrs. Darcy, didn't kiss me before practically running from the room, and could barely bring himself to look at me! How I wish you were here to comfort me. Do not despair, however, as I am sure he will tell me what is troubling him soon enough. The next letter you receive from me will more likely be of a happier tone and so sweet you will become ill.
Please tell me of all the news from Meryton and Longbourne. I am anxious to know what has occurred in the week since I departed. Has Mama kept up her promise (threat?) of visiting you every day? Oh dear, now you must really not let Mama read this! Burn it right away, as I am sure she will sniff it out eventually or demand to read it after she has discovered I have written you. Just remember that you and my brother Charles (I can call him that now!) are welcome whenever you need a vacation from the delights of Netherfield and your neighbors.
I must conclude now. I suppose I should acquaint myself with my duties as Mistress of Pemberley whilst Fitzwilliam meets with his steward.
Please write soon and I promise a quick reply. Until then, I remain
Your sister,
Elizabeth Darcy
P.S. I've never signed that before. It does look well, does it not? By the bye, please notice the seal on this letter as it was given me this morning by my husband, who was acting normal at the time.
Elizabeth reread her letter while the final bit of ink was drying. When she was satisfied that it neither told too much nor too little, she folded, addressed, and sealed the paper. Still troubled by Darcy's behavior, she stood up and walked to the window. She meant to think of ways to draw out whatever it was that was bothering him, but the view was enough to make her forget it all, if only for a moment. She stood simply admiring the grounds for a good five minutes.
Motivating herself to think again, Elizabeth determinately turned around to face the rest of her day. She decided she would find Mrs. Reynolds and begin training as Mistress of all she had just seen before her.
Chapter Five
Morning passed quickly for the Darcys. For Elizabeth, though time did fly by, she was relieved when it was over. Darcy, however, dreaded meeting with his wife and her cap again. During the course of the morning, all business with his steward had been concluded, but Darcy felt that an afternoon ride about his estate was needed. After all, it had been quite some time since he had devoted himself to the affairs of Pemberley and his tenants. Though Winston didn't agree that this was necessary, he kept his thoughts to himself. It was clear to all that something was troubling Darcy but no one wanted to be the one to broach the subject.
I will not bore you with the dialogue of the midday meal, but will only mention that the tension remained. After Darcy informed Elizabeth of his intention of riding out that afternoon, the tension thickened threefold. Elizabeth, however, tried to think of all she had learned in the course of the morning and decided to roam the halls of Pemberley until her husband returned.
After the meal, which was scarcely touched, Darcy took the letter to Jane,