The Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Chapter 15
Elizabeth seized her opportunity when Mr. Darcy entered the drawing room and hesitantly approached her for coffee. "I have been indoors largely all day, Mr. Darcy. I was wondering if you would oblige me with an evening stroll, since we did not have time today."
His face lightening, he instantly agreed. For her mother's benefit he added that he would like to discuss the future Mrs. Darcy's opinion about redoing two of the public rooms of their house in town. The effect was instant, and more dramatic than he had intended. Mrs. Bennet immediately shooed Elizabeth away from her duty to pour, excited to remember her daughter's impending elevation in the world.
Once outside, she could not help smiling at his excuse; he had been quick to learn how to steer her mother in the direction he wished her to go. "Are you really thinking of redoing two of your public rooms?"
"Our public rooms. And I most certainly am - if you wish."
She was rendered speechless for a moment. Now it was his turn to seize an opportunity to set matters right between them.
"Miss Bennet, I want to apologize for my earlier behaviour. You must be wondering, but I assure you, I'm not a barbarian."
"I did not think you were and I accept your apology. However, I should like to explain a few things to you, if you are willing to hear me?"
He nodded his assent and they stood together within the privacy of the grove.
"It seems that I must continue with my record and apologize for the third time, and on this the third day of your return! With regard to earlier today, I never intended to walk at all but I felt sorry for your cousin when I saw him accosted by my sisters. It's been important to me that my family make a good impression on the single representative of your family here to attend our wedding. I'm thoroughly embarrassed that his profession has made him the target of an unprecedented dose of silliness, and that is the only reason I spent a quarter of an hour in his company this afternoon. It was not because I prefer his company to yours."
He looked positively abashed by this explanation. "You owe me no apology! The fault is all mine for failing to appreciate your motives....I admit, I've felt somewhat irked to see you interacting with my cousin these last two days. It did appear as though you preferred his company."
"Well, I do not. I don't even know your cousin, though he seems amiable enough. If you will not let me apologize, then at least let me say I regret to think I hurt your feelings, however unintentionally."
Mr. Darcy's shocked expression caused her to question the wisdom of her bluntness. "Sir, I-"
"No," he said, "You are accurate. I was...hurt. I have been trying very hard to... to be your friend, and was beginning to despair that you would ever really accept this situation."
"I accepted this situation when I finally agreed to it. Though it is all so very new and confusing still. I've spent the day packing up my life, preparing to leave the only home I've ever known, and that is difficult under any circumstances, I'm certain."
"I have been completely insensitive then, and for that I'm sorry too."
"It would help if you could be patient with me. While I am prepared to do my duty by marrying, and while I like and respect you, I need a little time to integrate all that has happened these past few weeks. Do you realize that tomorrow is actually only one month less a few days since this all began?"
Darcy was silent for a moment while he considered the perspective she was offering. Finally, he smiled.
"You have an unerring way of making me realize my own lack of clarity, Miss Bennet. That is not something I am used to, since I generally hold my own with my friends. But then, I did say you were the most intelligent woman of my acquaintance."
She blushed. "You must be teasing me. For, I have only pointed out the obvious."
"Then I have been deluding myself even more seriously than I supposed. I am actually a witless fool, and all pretensions to a strong understanding must be dropped forthwith."
"I do not think they are pretensions since they are based in fact, Mr. Darcy. May I return the compliment by saying that your own cleverness keeps me at my most challenging." She regarded him archly and he laughed, surprised at the sudden transition from seriousness to her usual playful manner.
"Then only when you are meek I shall know I've become a fool?" He raised his brow.
She could not help but laugh herself at the way he neatly turned her words to his advantage. Mr. Darcy, being more serious by nature, felt he had more to confess. He twisted his ring nervously.
"I'm sorry for the way I propelled you into your room and shut the door. I was rather annoyed - hurt - and let my feelings get the better of me, but it was inexcusable and I'm heartily ashamed of my behaviour. I promise you needn't fear such conduct from me in future."
"I'm relieved to hear it and as I said already, I accept your apology. As a matter of fact, I do not like such displays and we will get along quite well if you keep this particular promise."
Darcy stiffened slightly, but accepted that she had just drawn a line and was warning him never to cross it again. In his heart, he knew that she was in the right. After a few moments of silence between them, he felt compelled to acknowledge one thing more that still hung over him.
"You were angry, but you were also speaking the truth when you blamed our hasty engagement on my conduct."
"That was unfair of me to say. The cause of the scandal was not your fault."
Though he felt uneasy pointing it out to her, he felt he must if they were to start their marriage with a clean slate. "You are being too generous, Miss Bennet. I have done a lot which requires your forgiveness. And as much as I would wish to benefit from the pretence, I must finally say what I have feared to say all along. Our present predicament is my fault. If that morning I had behaved as a gentleman should, then you would never have rushed into the hallway as you did, and there would not have been any scandal." Having finally said it, he awaited the outcome.
She chose her words carefully. "I do not think we can ever know what might have happened if events had unfolded differently. As it is, I flung my comment at you because I do not like being force-marched by anyone. I really did not mean it." With a breath to give her courage, she added, "I knew it would make you angrier."
He seemed surprised by that admission. "I see. Might I ask why you desired to make me angrier when you already disliked the results?"
"A fair question, to which I have no satisfactory answer. I am not in the habit of toying with respectable men."
Darcy's mind began to race. Young ladies only employed such tactics when...they wished to torture a man, ...and sincere young ladies such as Miss Bennet only wished to torture a man when...though it cost him something to say it, he had to know. "Would it be fair for me to hope that you are not as indifferent to me as you have seemed?"
"I am not indifferent to you, sir. We have agreed to be friends and I intend to live up to that agreement. It is unlike me to play unfair, or to dwell on the past, and I promise you I will never cast it up to you again. That was most unkind of me, after you had asked that we start over."
It was not quite the answer he had hoped to hear. He reached out and caressed her cheek. "I want more than friendship, Elizabeth. As insightful as you are, I think you must have observed that by now."
An expression of pain crossed her features and he instantly withdrew his hand. "Mr. Darcy, I must remind you that I require your patience."
Wisely, he nodded and let the matter drop. She does not wish for your attentions. His sense of rejection was acute and he vaguely wondered how he'd ended up in such a predicament. Two months ago, he could have sworn that his chief wish was to successfully avoid those tactics that young ladies sometimes employed for captivation -now he longed to see them where none existed. Now he wished he'd spent a little time practicing some of his own, but he'd never then imagined Elizabeth Bennet's existence, or credited it as possible that any woman could affect him as she managed to do. It was provoking for a man used to having everything on his own terms and who had prided himself on his invulnerability.
Elizabeth wondered at her own anxieties, but as she thought she understood Mr. Darcy's feelings all too clearly, she would not attempt to explain herself on this one subject. She opted for the most tactful excuse instead.
"Mr. Darcy, you know as well as I do that propriety demands we return to the house. Let us part on the best terms before our wedding day."
He nodded, though he sensed that her evasions stemmed from more than the reasons she had so far given, as valid as they were. He took comfort in her admission that she was not indifferent, that in fact she liked and respected him, and silently vowed patience simply because she had requested it.
Chapter 16
"Mr. Darcy," he began as they shook hands before the couple's departure. "I am entrusting you with the welfare of my dearest child. Do not disappoint me sir, or you will live to rue it. I would have to send her youngest sisters for a very long visit to Pemberley."
The groom was perceptive enough to know that he was being warned in earnest, however eccentrically communicated. "I will do my best to make her happy, rest assured."
"A word of advice then. Lizzy is a sensible young woman. As long as you respect her lively talents they are not likely to be turned against you."
Mr. Darcy smiled. "I believe I have learned that already."
"Then you are further ahead than most young men. I would suggest though, that you curb a tendency towards possessive displays. While it is the right of violent young lovers to rant and storm a little, my daughter is highly independent and I admit I have done my utmost to encourage that trait in her. You seem sensible enough to realize that what you want may not always be what is best at present, in the interest of enduring felicity."
Is this, Mr. Darcy wondered, the speech that all bridegrooms might expect, or only those engaging in a marriage of convenience? He managed to remain polite at being so addressed, though his Darcy pride was somewhat stung. "I recognize that everyone has his own agenda....Rest assured, it is not my intention to consider only mine when dealing with my partner in life."
Mr. Bennet merely smiled, well pleased that he'd scored his point, though his opponent had also hit a mark. "I'm glad we are of the same mind." He shook hands again and affectionately patted his son-in-law on the back before turning to bid his daughter farewell. Lizzy was deeply affected to know she was parting from her family. Though she had remained aloof with her father since his decree, she could not sustain her reserve now, when she would not likely see him again for some time. She gave him a fierce hug.
"Lizzy my child," and he could not keep the emotion from his voice. "Write to me. Let me know how you are. Let me know if you need anything. And please know that you may always come home again if need be."
Genuinely moved, she tried to reassure him with a bright smile. "I doubt that it will be necessary for me to run away, Papa. Mr. Darcy is a good man, a kind man. He has already proved himself to be agreeable and exceptionally reasonable. I'm afraid I misjudged him at first, but my opinion of him is much higher now."
With another hug, Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Bennet, who affectionately claimed her daughter. "Dear Lizzy, I am so glad it has all turned out this well. You will be very fortunate in life, and never have to worry about your future. That is all I have ever wanted for my children, though I can't help but be pleased that you are so rich."
Parting from Jane was perhaps the hardest thing of all. Glancing at Mr. Bingley, she realized that they would likely be parting before long anyway, though she lamented to be so far away from her best friend. Jane was feeling something similar.
"Oh Lizzy take care of yourself! I will miss you so very much but I know you will be happy. It's selfish of me, but how I wish you were not going so far away!"
Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears. "Dearest Jane! You are my greatest friend. I have ever been able to depend on your goodness, your sense, and your steadiness. What will become of me without your kind heart to guide me?"
"You will do well enough on your own, Lizzy. You give me more credit than I deserve and yourself too little. Besides, I'm very certain you and Mr. Darcy will be happy together. It's clear that he cares for you."
Elizabeth smiled but said nothing. She did not want to spoil her sister's sense of comfort and cause her to worry. She knew that Jane was ever prone to construct people's actions in the best light, and likely saw more to Mr. Darcy's feelings than were actually there.
Mr. Darcy made his rounds to all of Elizabeth's family, not excepting shaking hands with Lydia and Kitty. Both young ladies recognized a rare opportunity however, and led by Lydia, bestowed him with hugs, something he could not refuse without offending. Their bold deed accomplished, they giggled at the thrill of it, causing Darcy to wonder at how vastly different siblings could be. A kiss on the cheek he reserved for Mary however, who felt an unprecedented moment of feminine superiority over her younger sisters at the distinction. Kitty endured it with a certain irritability, while Lydia tossed her head and sought out Colonel Fitzwilliam, dashing in his regimentals.
After saying his good byes to Bingley, the contrite groom made his way to his cousin. They had always been good friends, and Darcy was genuinely sorry for his recent conduct. The Colonel accepted his implicit apology graciously and wished his cousin every happiness, adding that he thought Darcy was a lucky man.
A wedded Elizabeth was not as fascinating as an infamous one, but her neighbours wished her well all the same. And since she was respectable again, not to mention very rich and important, many felt a certain vicarious triumph over the Miss Bingleys of the world. For though that young lady remained silent, everyone understood the sourness of her expression arose from a large dose of a particular hybrid of grapes. Whereas formerly her superciliousness might be tolerated, now, defeated as she was by one of their own, she was no longer deemed worthy of their deference. This was especially true at a celebration where there was simply no time to worry about a virtual stranger who, it was rumoured, intended to return to town before long.
All wishes for their future joy conveyed, and their good-byes said, at long last the bride and groom departed for London.
Chapter 17
A sudden jolt of the carriage brought him awake and with great relief, he saw that his new bride sat across from him looking her usual self, her eyes now closed as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.
She sensed him the moment he sat beside her. She knew he would encircle her within his arms the instant before he did so. Despite herself, she felt a sudden delicious contentment as he drew her body closer to his own, the scent of him so familiar, the memory of his embrace strong in her wandering mind. He leaned toward her until she felt the softest caress against her lips, while his hand moved gently along the contour of her shoulder, her collarbone, her throat. With a sigh, she brought her arms up around his neck as his mouth pressed more firmly against hers. Her response seemed to fuel his need, for at that moment he caught her more fiercely to him, his lips suddenly demanding and hard against her own. Feeling powerless to resist the need that his insistence inspired, she parted her lips and did battle to feed her own awakening hunger. The heat and weight and scent of him overwhelmed her as they sank further into the softness beneath her, and she gave into a secret need to explore with her hands his rich dark hair, his face, the line of his jaw, rough and unshaved. She caught herself before she tumbled off the carriage seat....
Elizabeth stared around her, for a moment confused about where she was. The long shadows of late afternoon sunlight fell across the man in the carriage seat opposite her. He was leaning slightly against the carriage wall, apparently asleep. His expression was softer in this unguarded state, but there was no escaping the unrelenting strength of his face. She had once thought his features too severe, though she had attributed that chiefly to his character. Now she saw that his usual seriousness, which she no longer minded, could not fully explain the matter. Since he remained conveniently oblivious to her regard, she permitted herself to really study every plane, angle and nuance of his face as she had never done before. As she always began covertly with a man's profile, she could not help first confessing her secret longstanding admiration of how perfect his was. There simply was no denying it! Elizabeth prided herself on being just.
Added to that though, were other observations equally mortifying. His chin was exactly as a chin ought to be. His nose was long and straight, yet not too long or too refined (a man's nose was a particular bone of contention for her). His lips were full and...sensual, yet firm in their lines. She attempted to regard them without remembering the sensations they had inspired both in real life and in recent dreams, since she prided herself on her observation skills as much as her sense of justice. Forcing herself to move on, she was relieved to note that his dimples were not in evidence at the moment. His eyes, usually the most expressive aspect of his countenance, were hidden behind lids fringed with long, dark, spiky lashes. Mr. Darcy's eyelashes appeared to be his only concession to softness. As Elizabeth knew well, the dark slash of his eyebrows could, depending on his mood, convey either arrogance or amusement with the slightest lift of one or both brows; she thought he favoured both when amused and his right when he was disposed to be arrogant. Whereas her girlish ideal had centered on the comfort of soft, captivating features, the woman had somehow thrown away safety for the thrum of contest. Altogether, she was forced to acknowledge that the very appearance which she had previously found a little threatening was actually a pleasing contrast to her own. Having analyzed his face to her satisfaction, she turned her attention to his figure, but quickly decided that such an inquiry was best left alone. It was just as well, as he came awake a few moments later in time to inform her that they were almost home.
MR. DARCY glanced at his bride across the dinner table. Their journey to London had been quiet, neither had spoken much, and when they did speak it was with the utmost self-consciousness. Now the hour was growing late. Elizabeth pushed the food around on her plate under the pretense of eating. Darcy watched her, feeling little appetite for food himself.
"It's been a long day."
"Yes."
"I imagine you are exhausted. I know that I am."
She looked at him with a worried expression on her face. "Not very exhausted," she replied cautiously.
"No? I was going to suggest that you take yourself upstairs now."
Elizabeth bit her lip nervously. "I had rather stay up a while longer."
"I see."
They remained up until Elizabeth could not keep her eyes open. Finally, he led her to her room and called her maid to assist her. After a brief interchange she dismissed Clare, preferring privacy. Eventually, she opened the dressing room door with some trepidation. Her room was empty. She waited. She paced. She stared out the window. She paced. She wondered if he remained patient. She wondered if she hoped he had. She heard his soft knock before he stepped into the room.
He had a difficult time disguising his interest as he regarded her from head to foot. She wore a pretty, though modest costume and had let her hair down to softly frame her face. She presented a very similar picture to the one he remembered, the one that had fueled so many subsequent imaginings.
He cleared his throat. "Miss Ben - er, Elizabeth, I have come to bid you goodnight." Saying that, he slowly drew her hand to his mouth for a tender kiss. Elizabeth felt anticipation rush over her. She could not quite tear her eyes away. The back of her hand was gradually explored with the lightest touch of his lips; he found it necessary to caress every inch of each slender finger while she stood there, her hand willingly submitting to his gentle torture.
At last he straightened enough to meet her eyes; he would not relinquish her hand, and gave it a light, though possessive squeeze. The scent of lavender seemed to draw him closer. He leaned nearer to kiss her softly on the cheek as he murmured goodnight. Her smiling reaction to this bolder action encouraged his own smile to evolve, and the dimples made their dizzying appearance at last. She could not resist reaching up to caress his cheek in reply, and gave in to a tempting investigation of the elusive charming imprints by tracing her finger along each one in turn.
The sweetness of her touch seemed to weaken his resolve. His eyes strayed for a moment to her lips, before they returned to stare into hers with full force. "We are husband and wife and I have not even properly kissed you." With those words, he slowly drew her into his embrace as he lowered his lips to hers. She could not have stopped him if she wished it; her body seemed to have a mind of its own. By now she did not even wish it. His kiss was feather light as he trailed his lips over hers to tease each corner of her mouth in turn. Elizabeth inwardly sighed, amazed by the sensations his actions created. The thrill of that morning at Netherfield came rushing over her again, and before she knew what she was about, her arms came up around his neck, her hands seeking his glorious hair. He clutched her tightly to him for several minutes, completely lost in his own ardent pursuit. Then at last, he recollected himself and pulled away.
Elizabeth stood there, stunned by Mr. Darcy's actions and disappointed he had stopped. It took her many minutes to begin thinking clearly. By that time, he had wished her a hasty goodnight and taken his leave. After several more moments reflection, she told herself his leaving was for the best. She'd felt completely out of her depth about all this, not knowing exactly what she would say to him if he had failed to understand their last conversation. Clearly he had understood and for that she knew she must feel grateful.
Chapter 18
On awakening, it took Elizabeth a few moments to recall that she was now a married woman. She lay there thinking over the last few days' events when a knock at the door sent her heart pounding. It was her maid with a breakfast tray. Elizabeth arose and, realizing how hungry she was, gave over to the excellent food that had been sent up. She had the opportunity at last to gaze about at her elegant surroundings and wonder at how she came to be there. It was impossible to be in London with Mr. Darcy without recalling with a blush his earliest expressed wish that she accompany him there, or to speculate once again on his dramatic shift in attitude. He seemed to prove himself as a friend on a daily basis; she could not fault his behaviour since their engagement. Yet he had made it clear that he desired more than friendship. She did not know why Mr. Darcy had hastily bid her goodnight then, except that he was being patient - as she'd requested. That ought to please her, but perversely it did not. With a frown of dismay, she reminded herself that she wished only to be his friend. In time, when she was used to her situation and felt confident in her strength again, she would take the next step. That was a reasonable aim. Anything more involved a vulnerability that she could not imagine risking.
After breakfast, she bathed and dressed hurriedly, embarrassed to realize that it was so late. Clare informed her that Mr. Darcy was in the library and would like to speak with her. Finding her way there, she entered hesitantly. Mr. Darcy was now her husband! He now had more power over her destiny than any other person in her life!
"You wished to see me?"
Mr. Darcy looked up from his book and quickly stood. "Good morning. I hope you slept well?"
"Yes, thank you." He motioned her to a chair across from him and sat down again himself.
"I wanted to know what you would like to do today."
Elizabeth felt taken aback. "I had not thought about it."
"Well, if there is nothing in particular you wish to do, may I suggest we begin the day with a proper tour of the house, and then that we go shopping? I realize you did not have sufficient time to even think about a trousseau, let alone acquire one. Since we are here in London, it would be most conven- handy - to order your clothes now, before we head to Pemberley."
"Are we to head to Pemberley soon then?"
"I had thought we could spend Christmas there. Of course, if you had rather not..."
"I have no objection to such a plan. I had much rather not be in London at that time of year."
Darcy nodded and smiled. "My sister will be at Pemberley by then. It will give you a chance to get to know one another without the distraction of busy social obligations."
It crossed Elizabeth's mind that despite his confessed desire for her, Mr. Darcy may prefer to avoid society, now that he was married to such low connections. Deciding to test this theory, she asked, "Are we to remain at Pemberley for the season?"
"That was not completely my intention. I usually return to town in February or March, and then I confess I make a timely escape around Easter for awhile. However, if we are to spend time here throughout most of December, I will certainly understand if you would prefer to remain at Pemberley for a couple months longer and return when the season is in full swing, or stay put in Derbyshire and avoid it altogether this year."
"Either way I shall be content. As you know," she added slyly, "I have an aunt and uncle near Cheapside. It would give me the greatest pleasure to see them frequently when we are in town."
She thought she could detect a slight look of discomfort but he said nothing about her relations. What he did say then surprised her all the more.
"I was hoping you would be willing to return. Not because I particularly desire to be here, but with you now my wife, it would be a perfect opportunity to gently introduce Georgiana to London society. She is not yet out - indeed she is too young to be out. With you here, she could at least begin to make more social calls than she is used to doing. It would be a start. Forgive me, I have neglected to mention that my sister is very shy, and it is my hope that your ease in company will provide an example to her. She has an excellent companion in Mrs. Annesley, but not a model such as an older sister could provide."
Although he had praised her before, Elizabeth was nevertheless taken aback. He was paying her the highest compliment in intimating that he trusted his sister's welfare and reputation to her. She hardly knew how she deserved such faith! Given her general behaviour to him since the beginning of their acquaintance, she wondered that he would feel this way. She could not help confessing her reaction.
"You have caught me unawares, sir. I am amazed that you would want me to fulfill such a crucial role. I will, of course, be honoured to help in any way I can."
Darcy flashed a brief smile, but the reproach contained in her words quickly sobered him. "It is my turn to be amazed, Elizabeth. Do you think that I am blind to your sense, your keen judgement, or your effortless manner in social situations? I have done a very poor job, indeed, in communicating my admiration."
Embarrassed, Elizabeth turned her attention to the fire. Her companion reminded her of the need to settle their immediate plans. "You have not yet given your verdict about today."
"I would welcome a tour of the house. Shopping for a trousseau, though? As a matter of fact, I am not in need of anything, Mr. Darcy."
"I find that hard to believe; in my experience, a young lady is always in need of something."
Elizabeth raised a challenging brow. She wondered what exactly his experience entailed, but dared not ask.
He cleared his throat and tried again. "It is no more than is due to my wife."
"Still, you need not go to such an expense."
"I disagree. I expect you to be dressed in the finest that money can buy." His thoughts driven back to a much earlier conversation between them when London and her welfare where first discussed, he instantly regretted his words, realizing too late how they may be misconstrued.
"What I mean is that you are now Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley. Whether you like it or not, one of your obligations is to uphold a certain image. Given the impetuous nature of our marriage, that is doubly important. I will not have it said that I begrudged you your due. That will reflect no credit on me, nor encourage society to treat you with the respect that is owed to you. I -"
Elizabeth could not help but smile at his awkward attempts to explain the matter as precisely as possible. The corners of her mouth tucked up first, and by the end of his speech she turned a full-fledged smile on him. Darcy stopped speaking mid-sentence, suddenly lost in the pleasure of her charm.
"It is all right, Mr. Darcy. I see the sense in what you saying. You need not worry about offending me."
"Thank goodness," he sighed. And then he too was struck by the absurdity of their situation. Elizabeth was pleasantly astonished when he joined in her laughter.
The tour of her new home was initiated shortly after. Holding her hand in his, he guided her through all five floors at a leisurely pace, beginning with informal introductions down in the servant's hall all the way to the quiet of the attics, though he tactfully omitted his own rooms. She was impressed by the gracious proportions of the public rooms, and equally happy to find the family quarters surprisingly warm and intimate. Throughout the house and its moods the owner's excellent taste was evident, and Elizabeth was full of genuine praise as she observed real elegance rather than ostentation. The breakfast room, dining rooms, hall, and a small sitting room to receive guests composed most of the ground floor. She was already familiar with the front drawing room above, but had not yet seen its adjoining back room which, when opened, meant that the entire room ran from back to front along the house. She imagined it to be grand in such a state, but the rich yellow walls created a cheerfulness that compensated for its huge scale. On the opposite side and facing the street was the highly imposing library dominated by books and rich dark wood, and behind that, another sitting room that provided a pleasing contrast, it was so homey and casual. Mr. Darcy then led her up the stairs to the more private quarters contained within two floors. Elizabeth was delighted to learn that the morning room would be her own. Despite the chill of December, she could not resist opening the French doors and stepping out onto the balcony overlooking an intimate garden.
"How charmingly constructed! It must be wonderful in summer."
Darcy smiled. "Yes, although it is calculated to delight in the spring when we're most likely to be here."
"Of course, for a moment I forgot we were in London."
"I shall consider that the highest compliment."
"You should. I'm a country girl at heart."
"I think such a description is far too commonplace. You are more accurately a wood nymph, condescending to live among mere mortals."
She turned to him in surprise, though eyes still alight with the pleasures of nature only added credence to his theory. "Mr. Darcy, I had not thought you swept up in the Romantic movement! You appear to be a secret poet, though if you keep exaggerating my qualities, you are bound to end up disappointed eventually."
"Tis no exaggeration. I am not a Romantic. I simply speak the truth as I know it...though, given your radical view of poetry, I fear I have just been condemned in your eyes."
Elizabeth laughed and without thinking, reached out to take his hand in affection. "You must not believe everything I say! And you must give me credit for being practical and saving, as well as a force of nature. Let us return inside before we waste the room's heat."
Pleased by her spontaneous gesture, he followed along without resistance, though once inside and the doors secured he gently led her towards the fire's heat.
"Then you think this room can be redeemed? It was my mother's, and though it has been freshly cleaned and aired, its lack of use over the years is painfully evident. The colours and furnishings are out of date too. You are welcome to choose another room, though I hope I can persuade you to simply redecorate this one to your own taste."
Elizabeth's eyes lit up again. She generally found little pleasure in those accomplishments young ladies were supposed to acquire, but houses were a secret passion. Subdued by his generosity, she allowed him to direct her to the room beside hers. Undisputedly masculine, it proved to be Mr. Darcy's private library, officially where he attended to matters of business. It was also his most personal sanctuary, and Elizabeth could not resist looking around curiously, noting the comfortable leather chairs, the rather large desk, the many shelves of books, and several drawers she imagined were full of important papers. She was amused to see that everything was in its carefully ordered place as befitted a man of his disciplined nature, except for the stack of books beside a chair near the fire. On his desk were neat piles of papers waiting for his attention. Most striking of all though, and which transformed the room from the mundane to emotionally powerful, were two large paintings, one above the mantel and one situated directly across from his desk. They were undoubtedly older and highly valuable, but as Elizabeth knew nothing of art their material worth did not impress her. Rather, she was completely engrossed by the startling beauty and power of the compositions, and a life and vitality to the scene that seemed to call out to her and demand her response. She stared at each in turn for several moments, before shifting her gaze more rapidly between the two.
"I hope that means you like them?"
"Like them? Sir, that is a serious understatement. They are absolutely awe-inspiring. Until this moment, I cannot say that I understood people's fascination with a particular work of art. Now I do."
"Perhaps it's all because of the particular deep shade of the walls." His humour was more to mask a sudden swelling pride.
Without considering what she was doing, she sat down behind his desk where she could observe them both. "I doubt that this shade, or any shade, has anything to do with it, curators' opinions aside."
"Then we are of the same opinion. I have spent many contented evenings in here, simply marveling at them. They were the first works of art I ever bought, and they remain my favourites."
"And they cannot be separated the one from the other. The power of each is doubled by the presence of the other."
"I agree. That is why I have dared to put them in here together, despite their size and the vibrancy of the colours."
Elizabeth seemed to recollect herself then, and began to rise from his chair. Mr. Darcy rested his hand on her shoulder to stay her actions.
"There is no need to get up. You look especially fetching behind my desk, as a matter of fact."
"Oh? Shall I add to the picturesque quality by working my way through these papers?"
"You are more than welcome to try. My secretary will not be on hand to assist as he normally does. I gave him a much-needed fortnight off -"
He forgot what he was saying as he watched her unconsciously fondle the items on his desk, including his pen as she lifted it from its holder and inspected the tip.
"I hope that doesn't mean you are contemplating signing for me."
She laughed and again scrambled up from his chair. Darcy had other ideas. He caught her hand as she meant to move past him, and drew her towards him as he took her place, settling her on his lap.
"Let us both gaze at my impressive art for awhile, Mrs. Darcy."
His voice was rich and stimulating next to her ear. She found herself most shockingly situated on his lap, leg on leg, her back almost completely to him, her body against his chest. She thought she ought to resist remaining thus, but could not bring herself to do it. Instead, she leaned her head back against the support of his shoulder and did what he suggested they do, and what supposedly justified such a position. They were silent together for several moments, during which time Darcy savoured the feeling of her wrapped in his arms, her hands in his. Eventually the temptation proved too much for him; his hands left hers to slowly trace up along her arms and shoulders, memorizing the gentle contours, the silky yet firm flesh beneath his fingers where available to his touch. Gaining control of his dangerously wandering thoughts, he permitted one hand to finally claim her delicate throat, gently stroking her with thumb and fingertips- a rather possessive act, she thought. With graver discipline, he eventually forced his hands to rest again at her waist. Unaware of his inner victory, she tried to ignore what she considered his increasing boldness as his hands descended to pause at her hips and then explored further, each pressing along the top of a shapely leg. Her ignorance received some assistance by his distracting act of nuzzling her hair as he pressed his lips to her temple in the gentlest manner. She closed her eyes, and for a moment was lulled into the comfort of his strong embrace, before she abruptly remembered that friendship had its limits. Feeling slightly panicked, she hastened from him, and tartly reminded him that they had best continue their tour if they hoped to go shopping as well.
MR. DARCY began the day's expedition with a certain amount of trepidation, as shopping with a woman for her wardrobe ranked high on his list of small tortures. Given his general exposure to their zealous thoughts and feelings on the subject in mere conversation, he dreaded an entire day spent in such a nonsensical manner. Though his own wardrobe was stylish, if somewhat austere, he never felt the urge to discuss his choices at length, or to worry about the cut of his waistcoat. When he needed new clothes, he bought them, and that was that. Though he loved his sister, he had always provided her with sufficient funds for her wardrobe and sent her off with a suitable female companion to take care of the spending of them. Indeed, among his acquaintance, he had often lamented such a misuse of energies and intellect; young ladies, he frequently marveled, could have read all the classical philosophers ten times over with the amount of time they spent fussing on finery and lace. Inconsistently, he derived pleasure from the results of their efforts.
Much to his relief, he could not recall Elizabeth being unduly preoccupied with such subjects, yet there is no telling what might happen when such feminine tendencies are fully unleashed, as they will be today. There was simply no other choice. He could not turn Elizabeth over to an acquaintance or his housekeeper, for that would expose her lack of previous social standing. She had an aunt near Cheapside whom she respected, but he could not risk entrusting her future presentation to a stranger who was sister-in-law to Mrs. Bennet. He thought the young Miss Bennets dressed well enough given their limited funds, yet, how would they be dressed if Mrs. Bennet were in sufficient funds? That was the stressful question. He did not fault Elizabeth's own taste, but she was not familiar with the new demands placed on her and needed to be properly guided. No, there is simply no one else but myself to ensure her welfare on a point which society would judge mercilessly.
This work will forgo a detailed description of the many modistes, milliners, furiers, and drapers they visited. Fashionable districts such as Mayfair, and St. James are well known, as are addresses such as Bond Street and Pall Mall. Of interest here are Elizabeth's further revelations as Darcy demonstrated the extent of his generosity by taking her to the best London had to offer, the names of merchants recognizable from La belle Assembleé and other fashionable fashion magazines.* She was encouraged to purchase far more than she felt she needed. Though he left her alone to examine more private articles, he remained present for her selections at every shop they called on. She was staggered by the sheer number of categories she was now expected to wear. At one point, she could not resist saucily asking him if Society had time for anything besides changing their apparel. Her eyes frequently widened when she observed the quality of material brought before her and heard Mr. Darcy insist on even better. He was equally involved in examining the sketches and did not hesitate to say which he would like to see her wear and which not.
She would have been highly gratified by his attentiveness if uncomfortable ideas had not intruded once more; though he seemed indifferent to the pretty assistants who occasionally modelled a collection, there was no missing how much pleasure he seemed to derive from staring at her as he held up sketches and imagined her in various outfits of his choosing. They managed to agree often, and on more than one occasion he saved himself from an exasperated bride pronouncing him high-handed by his suddenly backing down and respecting her veto - as though he recalled at the last moment that she had a stake in the matter. They only had one battle; he insisted she purchase a full-length fur-lined pelisse for enduring the coldest weather. She protested on the grounds of current fashion, and favoured the demi-long style, though she agreed to the practicality of warm material.** Mr. Darcy won by simply adding his preference as an extra. By the end of the day, Elizabeth felt like a prized doll which he had dressed up for his amusement.
Much to his surprise, Darcy reflected on the day with a great deal of satisfaction. Elizabeth had proved to be quick in determining her preferences and far more practical than young ladies in general. She was interested and enthusiastic, but not annoyingly so. Added to that was the unexpected pleasure attached to staring at her for an extended period of time. How different such activities become, he thought, when the subject of them is so highly enjoyable to watch in all her various moods and opinions. Neither would he ever regard fashion expeditions in exactly the same way as before. They were now rich material for one's erotic imagination. He wondered how that had never occurred to him before. With an inward groan, he repressed such thoughts as they neared home.
Returning to the Darcy townhouse, Elizabeth retired to her room to dress for dinner. Having spent the day purchasing the best, she stared at her own wardrobe with a certain amount of dissatisfaction. It was not that she thought extravagant was better. She was simply struck by the inferior work of her gowns. The samples she had seen today were exquisite! The styles they had ordered were elegant rather than overly fine. She had to admit, Mr. Darcy had admirable taste. Such a thought naturally led to her staring fondly at her dear ring....With a sigh, she finally selected her best-made gown, even though it was the plainest. A slight adjustment to her hair with the assistance of her maid, and she was on her way downstairs again.
The servant showed her into the homey sitting room on the first floor that was specially set up for more intimate dining. Mr. Darcy stood near the fireplace, the small table and two chairs placed before it. She saw that he wore long trousers again, his obvious preference, rather than the still widely accepted breeches and stockings. His finally tailored coat set off his shoulders, and the black of his evening clothes accentuated the black of his hair and eyes quite dramatically. Elizabeth was once more struck by how handsome he was.
"Good evening, Mrs. Darcy." He held out his hand to escort her to her chair. "I hope your busy day means you have worked up an appetite. The chef has outdone himself to impress you."
She smiled. "Yes, I am rather hungry, now that you mention it." As they ate, she proved it. Darcy was very pleased to see evidence of a normal appetite. He had observed her at Longbourn before their wedding; she had hardly eaten then. He saw the return of her interest in food as a hopeful sign that she was adjusting to their changed circumstances. During the course of their meal, they managed to make pleasant conversation, though there were occasional awkward pauses.
"Shall we go into the drawing room now? I would dearly love to hear you play."
"My playing leaves a great deal to be desired, as you well know."
"I'm afraid I must disagree with you. No one admitted to the pleasure of hearing you can think anything wanting." He assisted her from her chair and escorted her from the room.
"Very well, if you insist. Know only that I take no responsibility if you feel compelled to change your verdict on the matter."
Darcy laughed his rare laugh as he led her across the hall. "You forget, I have already heard you on several occasions. My opinion is well-informed."
She shrugged. They then entered the cheerful and airy yellow drawing room. As she sat down to the instrument, she marveled at its very fine quality, though Longbourn now had one to equal it. Tentatively, she tested the keys to get a feel for this particular keyboard. All around her was further evidence of his wealth and the huge disparity between them. Nevertheless, Elizabeth was not typically intimidated by mere rank and wealth. She collected herself and began to play.
Darcy listened with a certain amount of distraction. He had no idea what he should do. He wanted to break down the walls between them, yet feared rushing her. He felt more for her now than yesterday, and more yesterday than the day before, yet her request for patience still halted his ambitions. Moreover, he was utterly confused. Her words demanded that he keep his distance, her kiss of the previous evening demanded other action. Though he once again reviewed the conflicting evidence, he was forced to the same conclusion. He simply did not understand her true feelings. The uncertainty created by this conclusion and the strain of his internal conflict were beginning to take a toll on him. Through a determination to respond as an audience should, he finally won command of himself enough to surrender to the pleasure of the moment. As always, her voice enchanted him, and this evening her playing soothed his frayed nerves. They remained thus until Darcy escorted her upstairs and bid a perplexed bride a hurried goodnight. Nor did he attempt to kiss her before departing. Elizabeth told herself she was greatly relieved. Yet, long after the household had settled down, she remained awake puzzling over possible reasons for why he had not.
Chapter 19
Mrs. Gardiner thought Mr. Darcy very handsome, especially when he smiled as he regarded her niece. The party was not long in conversation before she related to him that she had spent many years not far from Pemberley.
"In Lambton? Why Mrs. Gardiner, that is not more than five miles from my home! And how did you like Derbyshire?"
"I liked it very much! In fact," she added as she looked affectionately at her husband, "we had some thoughts of travelling to the Lake District next summer. Lambton would most certainly be included in our journey."
"Oh, how wonderful Aunt! When do you intend to go?"
"We've not decided yet, but likely at the end of June."
"If my business does not delay our plans," added her husband with a wry smile.
"Well, whenever you do come our way," said Mr. Darcy, "you must certainly stay at Pemberley. It is conven- er, well located as a center from which to see the area." He would have issued the invitation in any case, but it was a huge relief to him to discover that her younger brother and his wife were vastly different from Mrs. Bennet.
"That is a very generous offer, sir!"
"Not at all, Mr. Gardiner. I should be very happy to have Elizabeth's family at any time, and I hazard to speak for us both." He glanced at his bride with a smile.
Elizabeth attempted to close the mouth that had fallen open in such an unladylike fashion. She merely nodded her agreement at her relatives. Seeing her slight distress, Mrs. Gardiner hastened to add her appreciation.
"I must second my husband's thanks. You are very kind! I should be happy to stay at Pemberley for I well remember visiting there in my youth. I believe you have some of the most delightful grounds of any Great House...and enough woods to satisfy even Lizzy."
Lizzy was recalled to her surroundings by the mention of her name. She looked from one to the other, trying to determine if she were required to speak, and wondering if a simple 'yes' would suffice. Mr. Darcy was regarding her, though he seemed momentarily distracted himself.
"Yes," said he, struck by a tantalizing image of her wandering among the trees of his park, "it is my aim to see your niece satisfied in that regard. Though, a wood nymph no doubt has demanding standards on such matters."
Elizabeth felt herself blushing at his depiction of her. She longed to say something, but only managed to meet his eye with a slightly raised brow. Was Mr. Darcy flirting with her before her aunt and uncle? The Gardiners exchanged pleased expressions. It was clear to see that Mr. Darcy admired their niece and that her future boded much brighter than they had expected before meeting him in person; Mr. Bennet's brief letter announcing their marriage had not hinted at such a promising affection.
Darcy tore his attention away from his wood nymph and turned to her uncle. "When you do come to Pemberley, there is great sport to be had. That is, if you care for fishing?"
As Mr. Gardiner was fond of fishing, the two gentlemen temporarily became absorbed by the topic. Before long they were engaged in a friendly debate about whether the reel ought to go above or below the fishing rod, though they heartily agreed that a silk line was superior to a horsehair one, much to the ladies' amusement. Seeing that her husband was thoroughly enjoying himself, Mrs. Gardiner took the opportunity to invite Elizabeth upstairs, as she wished to check on her children. Her niece readily consented. The gentlemen merely nodded as they left, and promptly continued their discussion, now with Mr. Gardiner in mock despair at learning that Mr. Darcy was willing to try vices rather than devoutly tie by hand. The younger gentleman accepted the chastisement with good humour as he argued that new technology could not be ignored. As she glanced at him before departing for the upstairs, Elizabeth smiled widely at him for the first time since arriving there.*
When they gained the nursery, Mrs. Gardiner found her two eldest children properly engaged in their lessons under the watchful eye of their nanny while she played a game with the second youngest. The smallest Gardiner child was peacefully napping. Elizabeth visited briefly with her cousins, marveling at how quickly they were changing and how much more they'd grown since she had last seen them. She refused to dwell on how fine-looking Mr. Darcy's children would likely be, secretly shocked that such thoughts even entered her head.
Finally her aunt led her to a private sitting room, intent on establishing the true state of Elizabeth's situation. "Tell me how you are really fairing, Lizzy. We have been terribly concerned about you."
"I am well Aunt, truly. I think I am getting over the shock, at least."
"I only need to know that he is treating you well when you are alone together, and I shall be satisfied...If he were not, you must not hesitate to come to us."
"Treating me well? Why yes. Yes he is. I certainly cannot complain about his treatment. You have seen for yourself a fair representation of his recent behaviour."
"Again, I am relieved to hear it."
"His improved manners have lasted a week and five days so far."
Mrs. Gardiner looked puzzled. "Have you reason to suppose they will be of a short duration?"
"No, no, I just...it is simply all...so strange."
"That he is well mannered? I must say I am pleased to find your husband so open and pleasant. I am glad, for your sake, that he is not as I expected him to be. How came you to tell us that he was so disagreeable?"
Elizabeth looked a little uncomfortable.
"Forgive me, my dear. If it makes you uneasy, we need not speak further on the subject."
"It is all right. I think I need to speak of it."
"By all means then. It is a confusing situation for all of us, not the least the two of you. It will take time, no doubt, for affection to grow between you. From what I have seen, I am certain it will. He seems to hold you in high regard. You must excuse me if I am presuming too much."
Elizabeth blushed again. "When I said that it seemed strange, I meant his dramatic transformation. Although, I think I was extreme and unfair in my opinion before. He has some very fine qualities. Only, he was always so arrogant and so...reserved and critical... to the point of giving offence to more than myself. ...We have had our share of struggles however, and I feel I know him better as a result. Although it is not a typical way of courting, I believe our spats have created a superior understanding of one another than often results from the usual pattern. He is essentially a good man."
Listening to this disjointed explanation, her aunt searched her face for some sign of a deeper recognition. She saw a range of emotions in her niece's expression and decided she had better let Lizzy discover some things on her own. They returned to the drawing room, and passed another enjoyable half an hour before the Darcys recollected that they ought to take their leave. Mr. Darcy called on his wife to join him in inviting her aunt and uncle to dine at their home the following Tuesday. It was a gesture that could not but make her smile at him again. The Gardiners readily accepted.
As she settled into the carriage she realized with some chagrin that, one by one, Mr. Darcy was removing all her defenses through his conduct. It was not a happy reflection, but mulling it all over would have to wait. For, no sooner had she tossed her bonnet next to her in anticipation of some private contemplation, then she had to snatch it up again when Mr. Darcy chose to sit beside her. Slightly annoyed, she wondered how he came to be sitting so close when the seat was spacious enough, and when an entire empty seat was across from them. He said nothing as the carriage rocked into motion. In a very short time, she found herself distracted by the warmth emanating along her thigh and arm where they barely touched his.
She stared determinedly out the window. His rich voice further confused her and she was exasperated with herself to discover that she had no idea what comment he'd made! Surprised by her silence he addressed her again.
"Elizabeth?"
"I'm sorry. I was distracted by the sights." She glanced up at him briefly, but on meeting his eye, quickly returned to gazing out the window. "What was it you said?"
Puzzled, he bent his head slightly nearer and spoke in a more intimate tone. His face was close enough now that his breath danced with the wisps of hair at her temple. "I said I like your aunt and uncle very much."
"I'm glad you approve."
"Did you imagine that I would find fault with such excellent people?"
"They are my family. Are you not concerned that they will blacken your illustrious heritage?"
He frowned and drew back from her, folding his arms across his chest in frustration. He had done his best to be accommodating; yet here she was being more waspish than usual, tossing up the past though she'd sworn she would not. No, waspish was not at all accurate or complex enough.
Any other woman will sound waspish when she is being waspish. Not Elizabeth. She always manages to sound charming. She can intend offence yet give none! Hence, she achieves her attack, yet leaves no evidence. How does a man fight that?
He was at a loss to know what more he could do to improve relations between them.
Clearly, something happened between her disarming smile as we left the Gardiners, and our occupation of the carriage, though, he thought caustically, that momentous event has escaped me.
A silence descended within the carriage and Darcy found himself studying her profile, trying to unravel the mystery that was Elizabeth Bennet Darcy.
The lady in question was finding it rather hot. She deliberately moved away from him. Not wanting to be too obvious in her motives, she made a show of attempting to open the small window above her seat, claiming to need a little fresh air. Though she struggled, the window would not budge.
"Good heavens," she cried with great impatience, "has this thing been mortared into place?"
"Here, let me help you." So saying, Darcy moved closer to her and by necessity reached an arm around either side of hers. With a quick tug he easily lifted it open. "It is simple once you know the trick." He found himself breathing in the intoxicating sent of her and unconsciously leaned nearer until his face was less than an inch from the nape of her neck. He drew back in synchronicity as she turned, though his arms remained where they were.
"Thank you," she managed. Her eyes dropped to her lap where she studied her gloves with a sudden keen interest, and then she remembered to retrieve her bonnet onto her lap, perhaps as a shield of sorts.
"Don't mention it." He flattened his hands against the surface on either side of the window and regarded her with great intensity. She was effectively trapped between his body and the carriage wall.
"These luxury models are quite something," she babbled nervously "So many adjustable windows."
"Indeed." He searched her face but she would not turn to look at him.
"The seat cushions are very comfortable as well." She reached out to briefly touch the material, as if to illustrate her point. " I think I forgot to mention that when we traveled from Longbourn."
Comprehension dawning at last, his eyes narrowed on her for a moment, his jaw flexed, but otherwise he made no move.
"Do you think the lightness of the carriage means that you make better time?" She risked a quick glance at him then. That was her mistake. His face was still so close to her own. His eyes seemed to hold her in their power. She felt suddenly caught. She was infact unable to move even as she watched his face slowly descend to hers. His lips were gentle and much restrained. He was determined not to startle her. It was his turn to be caught off guard when, in the next moment, her arms slipped around his waist and she returned his affection with a willingness that completely overwrote his private resolutions.
He pulled her to him more roughly than he intended, wrapping his arms tightly around her. His lips grew more insistent, and as on their wedding night, his mouth claimed hers in a manner that overwhelmed in its intimacy. She felt herself losing ground rapidly until, much to her disappointment, Mr. Darcy abruptly pulled away first; the next moment she knew a peculiar pang when he simply held her to him, murmuring an unintelligible endearment. Eventually, he pulled away completely and released her, righting himself as the carriage came to a gradual halt before the Darcy residence.
"I'm sorry, I think I've effectively destroyed your bonnet."
"That's all right, I have several new ones on order."
"I believe I said you could never have too many hats."
She laughed self-consciously in answer as the servant opened their door. Darcy handed her down and they walked into the house together. In the hall they parted, as it was almost time to dress for dinner. Once she gained her room, she sank gratefully onto her bed, reflecting on what was happening between her and Mr. Darcy. What was the matter with her? Had she no sense? This was Mr. Darcy! And there she was, kissing him. It was...most disturbing! Especially in light of the fact that he'd ended the kiss first! She blushed on remembering her own undisciplined conduct. She marched with great determination across the room and began to pace before the fire. They had agreed to be friends. Friendship was acceptable to her feelings, and it went without saying that someday...someday far in the future, there would be children. But it would not do at all to fall for Mr. Darcy! Arrogant Mr. Darcy, the man who had once called her a scheming piece of baggage! She tried to call up her sense of outrage over his previous conduct and found to her dismay that it was no longer there. She had indeed kept her promise; she had let go of the past. She perceived that she was in graver danger than previously thought, and everything was happening too quickly. She suddenly felt an overwhelming need for some time to herself. Since her engagement, she'd had little time to think and reflect. Wondering if she might dare, she rang the bell for her maid. On her arrival, young Clare was instructed to bring Mrs. Darcy a tray in her room at dinnertime, and to inform Mr. Darcy that his wife had retired early. He apparently took the hint with good grace, for she passed the remainder of the evening undisturbed.
* All fishing information from online Georgian Index.
Chapter 20
The next morning Elizabeth regretted her hasty retreat when she passed a lonely meal in the breakfast room. Shortly thereafter she was summoned to Mr. Darcy's private library, but there was no time to make amends. He was impatient to review and clarify financial matters before he headed off for an early morning ride in the park. She glanced at the two paintings, and felt surprisingly bereft as her mind was driven back to their last encounter in this room. He seemed not to notice her momentary discomposure as he walked across the room to his desk, papers in hand.
She was taken aback to discover that Mr. Bingley had called the previous day when they were at the Gardiners and was the friend Darcy intended to meet. Wondering at his arrival in London, a mere day after the long-awaited ball at Netherfield, she could not help inquiring of Mr. Darcy if there was any news of Jane. She received a disconcertingly crisp "no" in reply.
No pleasantries forthcoming, she listened as he reviewed all documents pertaining to her personal income and future provisions. She had clearly failed to pay attention at Longbourn when these subjects had first been discussed, for the amount of pin money and that of her entire settlement came as a complete surprise. She thanked him for his generosity, but he seemed in no mood to hear it. He remained all business.
"I'm sorry. You're in a hurry to join Mr. Bingley. Would you rather discuss the rest some other time?"
"No, Elizabeth. I should like you to familiarize yourself with the accounts this morning. Mrs. R. II is waiting to take over your instruction after I leave."
"Oh, then by all means, please continue."
Once she had absorbed all the necessary information pertaining to her household budget, her husband kindly provided her with an ample amount of bank notes, and showed her how to access his safe as he locked up all legal papers pertaining to her welfare. Finally, he handed her a set of keys, along with a beautiful chatelaine to carry them and other items essential to her duties as mistress of his home. As the couple were but newly married, she was not expected to fully assume the running of an establishment until they journeyed to Pemberley. Yet, he expressed a wish for her to feel in charge in her own home. Grateful for his consideration, she was about to display her affection through a kiss on his cheek when Mrs. R. II arrived, and Mr. Darcy took his leave without a word about when he might return. She spent the remainder of the morning with her housekeeper, where her preferences for menus and daily routine were established, and the recent household expenses handed over to her for review and payment. A tour of the servants hall, where this time all the staff were formally introduced and their duties explained, completed the session.
Their London housekeeper was the fondly regarded daughter-in-law of Mrs. Reynolds, longstanding housekeeper of Pemberley. Her peculiar form of address initially came about when a very small Georgiana visited London and had been confused by the situation of two different looking women of the same appellation. No one was ever certain what gave her the idea to attach a number - perhaps because she was learning to count - but, as the newly married Mrs. Reynolds II found it amusing, the new name stuck and eventually everyone within the household shortened it to Mrs. R. II. She was a woman of great sense, a capable manager, and a shrewd judge of character. Though she had not previously supposed that her master would turn their welfare over to anyone, even his wife (should he marry) she had been somewhat taken aback earlier this morning when Mr. Darcy approached her with exactly such a proposal. Mr. Darcy had delayed marriage for such a long time that each year he remained single his London servants became more comfortable with the idea. (Their comfort was in contrast to many of his Pemberley servants, who began to despair of an heir.) Each London season was equally dreaded, lest their normally dependable master lose his head and make a foolish choice in a wife for the sake of family connections. A marriage of convenience resulting from a public disgrace had not even crossed their thoughts and still did not.
Fortunately, the scandal that has so shocked polite Hertfordshire society had not made its way to Darcy's London home yet. Mr. Wyse, ever discreet, had managed to keep it from them all. Until Mr. Darcy's return to Hertfordshire for his wedding, he had not brought down his own carriage, preferring instead the convenience of horseback, and relying on Bingley's equipage on those rare occasions it was required. By the time his coachman, groom, and outriders had journeyed with him to Longbourn, the local gossip had turned to the Bennets' luck at landing such a son-in-law; the cause was old news, especially to the Longbourn servants who were relieved to have the reputation of their establishment so firmly re-established in the eyes of the world. Incredibly then, Darcy's servants heard nothing of the past scandal during their few days at Longbourn. It seemed perfectly natural to Mrs. R. II, and to the others, that their master had gone to Hertfordshire, fallen in love, and married the young lady of his choice all within a tidy two months. The only questions needing answers pertained to her conduct as their future mistress.
Meeting with the new Mrs. Darcy for most of the morning alleviated the housekeeper's concerns for the continued happiness of their establishment. The young mistress impressed her with her sense, quickness, and most especially her determination to handle her own duties with precision while willing to let the servants handle what they knew best. There was nothing about her manner that suggested she was intimidated or bored by her tasks or the care of so many. Altogether, her words and behaviour boded well, as Mrs. R. II liked to see a show of spirit, and most of all had feared dealing with the whimsies of a spoiled Society woman who would fail to show proper responsibility within her domain. Nothing was more untenable to a senior servant than an employer who refused to pull her weight, but became an added burden instead. Added to that, the young Mrs. Darcy was clear, consistent, and direct in stating her preferences - much like her husband. This too was a relief. Servants could not read minds, and Mrs. R. II had heard enough stories of the disasters of a capricious employer to know not to ever work for one. By midday, all the servants had relayed the happy news that Mrs. Darcy was a well-bred young lady of the old school, a description which encapsulated their greatest hopes and allayed their greatest fears.
These mundane details of her new life served to impress upon Elizabeth just how intertwined her fate now was with Mr. Darcy's. It was sobering but not unwelcome. From their earlier interview, regardless of how rushed and distant he had seemed, it was clear to Elizabeth how well Mr. Darcy managed his establishments and cared for his dependents. That he entrusted her with his nearest and dearest interests was high praise indeed.
ONCE finished her more general duties for the day, Elizabeth retired to her morning room to review all the social correspondence that had been building up for the Darcys. She was very pleased to discover a letter from Jane and hurried to open it, eager to hear how her sister was faring without her. She was somewhat puzzled by what she read. Though nothing in particular was mentioned, in Jane's letter there was altogether a decided lack of cheerfulness that came through, despite her best efforts. Elizabeth's mind flew to Mr. Bingley, but she instantly dismissed his unexpected arrival in town, as the letter was written before the Netherfield ball. Perhaps her sister was simply missing her. Jane had expressed profound concern for her sister's happiness. Concerned by this possibility, Elizabeth spent a significant part of her time alone writing to Jane and her parents, hoping to reassure everyone of her continued welfare. Then she took herself upstairs to deal with her belongings. For reasons she could not fully explain, she had resisted unpacking all but a few essentials, and none of her cherished possessions. Now seemed like as good a time as any to create order in her private rooms. She called her maid to assist, but discovered that young Clare was more hindrance than help, as she seemed confused about the most basic instructions.
After a frustrating hour, she decided the wisest course was to change for dinner early, then tackle her final task alone. Added to that was a wistful desire to assert herself as Elizabeth Bennet - independent and still unspoiled. Her toilette accomplished, she sent Clare on a minor errand before she hazarded to open her smallest trunk - the very one that was forever associated with that most shocking mishap. It was, however, the perfect size to contain her more personal items and it was these which she now perused. She was quickly lost in fond remembrances as she examined the sample that she and Jane had created together when first learning to embroider. She could not help laughing; it was painfully clear which parts of the needlework were Jane's and which her own.
"Hmmm, I am most definitely not an accomplished lady with regards to handiwork, although I believe I am a little better at it than this would seem to indicate!"
The sound of a voice clearing startled her out of her reverie. She turned to find Mr. Darcy standing in the doorway.
"I'm sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting you? I found your maid struggling in the hallway and thought to assist." Following that explanation, he disappeared for a moment and then reappeared carrying the chair she had sent Clare to retrieve. "I believe you wanted this in here, milady?" He carried it into the room and set it down by the fireplace according to her direction.
"I hope you don't mind my taking it from the morning room?"
"No of course not."
"I can't think why Clare attempted to carry it herself. I assumed she would fetch a footman."
He smiled. "Clare is capable once she learns something, but needs to be told exactly what to do, as she lacks experience and confidence. I'm afraid there was not enough time to interview someone more qualified, so I thought she could temporarily act as lady's maid until you arrive at Pemberley, where you may wish to select your own personal maid from among the staff. "
"That only makes sense, as our time here is so short."
"If you would rather interview candidates in London, please feel free...."
As he spoke, he walked towards her. She suddenly realized that her trunk lay open at her feet. Not wishing to share her most intimate recollections, nor to conduct a tête-à-tête in her dressing room, she hastily turned to lead him from her private domicile. In her hurry, she inadvertently knocked her trunk. The movement caused the lid to fly down, capturing a portion of her swirling hem as she turned.
"Oh," she cried out, as she was suddenly pulled backwards. Losing her balance as a result of the surprise more than anything else, she fell back against she knew not what object. The object turned out to be her husband, who neatly caught her in his arms, righted her to a standing position once again, and gallantly crouched down to retrieve her skirt hem for her, while tactfully avoiding an examination of the contents of her trunk when he lifted its lid. Embarrassed by such a ridiculous occurrence, she eyed her trunk suspiciously. Her face hot, she looked away as her husband regained his standing position until he captured her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him.
"Are you all right, Elizabeth?"
"Yes, of course...if mortified can be considered 'all right'."
He could not help but smile broadly at that rejoinder. "I must admit, I never considered you the swooning type, but you do it most delicately."
She was forced to smile at his teasing. "I owe it all to my partner," she laughed, as she gestured at her highly culpable trunk.
"I hope your partner will not object to my escorting you to dinner?" He held out his arm to her as he spoke.
"Not at all, my partner is already full." He laughed, a sound she now realized was heard too seldom, as he had a very appealing laugh.
"We will have a dinner guest. Mr. Bingley asked if he might join us this evening. I hope you don't mind?"
"Mind? I shall be delighted to see him."
Darcy was pleased though secretly he would have preferred to be alone with her. He had managed to stay away all day, surprising his solicitor by showing up in the man's office at the end of a hectic week. By that time, Darcy was over the disappointment of her withdrawal from him the previous evening and longed to see her again, but he also sensed that she needed time to herself and was determined to provide it. Yesterday had clearly strained her emotions, and he feared she might withdraw from him all the more if he persisted too stridently in his suit. For that reason, he supposed he should be grateful for Bingley's rather uncharacteristic insensitivity on insisting to dine with them.
Chapter 21
Suspicions came to the fore again as Mr. Bingley seemed to sink into silence not long after they took their places at the table. Concerned, she waited until their course was before them and the servants had withdrawn. Then she set out to find out what she could.
"Mr. Bingley, you have not yet mentioned the Netherfield ball. I hope it was a great success?"
"A very great success, Mrs. Darcy. I thank you for asking."
"I have not heard from my family since before the ball. Perhaps you could tell me, sir, if all were well when you left?" Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, could not help noticing the sudden change of expression that came over his features. Shortly collecting himself however, Bingley replied that he'd been so busy as host he could not really recall any details of the evening, but that he believed her family to be well when he greeted them.
His evasive answer surprised her. Though Darcy shot her a warning look, she could not resist probing further. "I was wondering particularly about my sister, Jane. As you know, she is my best friend and I miss her greatly. If you have the power to reassure me, I should be very grateful to hear that she was in happy spirits when you left her...I trust you remember her at your ball."
His features darkening somewhat at her teasing question, Mr. Bingley gave an excellent imitation of his sometimes saturnine friend. Her heart sank. There was indeed something very wrong here!
"Mrs. Darcy, I hope you and Mr. Darcy will do me the honour of dining with us next week at your convenience? I know my family would be pleased to see you both. I believe my younger sister spoke to Miss Bennet at the ball and could answer any of your questions better than I could."
Even Elizabeth would not dare venture closer with such a reply to deter further inquiry. That Mr. Bingley's family wished to see her she instantly dismissed as false. She was curious to learn that they had only arrived in London a few hours ago, having followed their brother unexpectedly. With a glance at Darcy, who was regarding her with slight displeasure though he nodded his acquiescence to the scheme, Elizabeth accepted the invitation such as it was, and among them they settled on Wednesday. She had no great desire to see Miss Bingley or the Hursts, but knew she could not avoid them forever and thought it best to get unpleasant duties over with quickly. It would give her more time to observe their brother, too. She pushed her concerns from her mind and resolved to wait until she retired, when she would amend her letter to Jane in readiness for sending it off early tomorrow by way of special carrier.
Given his displeasure at her question pertaining to Jane, Bingley seemed to suddenly snap out of his pique and regale them both with nonsensical tales of his carriage misadventures travelling to London, as well as his comical surprise when his family followed him there the day after. Mr. Darcy appeared as puzzled by his behaviour as she was, and both were somewhat relieved when he bid them a goodnight shortly after coffee.
"What on earth was that about, do you think?"
"I have no idea. He's been like that all day. If I did not know better, I would say he was having the emotional swings of an expectant mother."
Elizabeth was genuinely shocked by such a comment from her proper husband, but since it was the most apt description, she could not repress her laughter; it was a welcome relief from the tensions of the evening. As Mr. Darcy handed her a glass of wine, she reflected wryly that she had never expected to feel more comfortable with him than with his friend. Their shared good humour seemed to bring them closer together. Perhaps Elizabeth was relieved to learn that Darcy was not keeping anything from her that would affect her sister. And seeing her relax, he gave over to the very great pleasure of watching her as she ceded to his request for the indulgence of some music.
He listened attentively to two songs before other ideas intruded on his pleasant reverie. Having denied himself all day, his feelings for her were slowly winning the battle this evening. As he stared at her and drank in her loveliness, he reminded himself that he was her husband now, and fully entitled to at least touch her.
Elizabeth looked up with nervous anticipation as Mr. Darcy arose from his chair. Walking with his usual deliberation, he moved to stand directly behind her. When his hands came to rest gently on her shoulders, her body gave a small jolt and she momentarily lost her place in the song.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I did not mean to startle you. Please keep playing." He did not remove his hands.
She could feel their heat through the material of her gown. Slowly, his fingers extended to caress the bare flesh of her shoulders and Elizabeth unconsciously leaned into the warmth of his touch. He knew he should withdraw his hands from her, but he could not make himself. He contented himself with lowering his face enough to plant a kiss on the top of her head, which, though meant to be quick, somehow lingered in her hair. He drew away only to find it impossible to resist the delicate throat that beckoned him.
Feeling his lips travel from her throat to the highly sensitive curve of her neck, Elizabeth stopped playing yet again, though her protest sounded weak even to her own ears. "Mr. Darcy! I cannot concentrate when you do that."
With a smile, he sat down beside her on the bench, facing her.
The warmth emanating from his eyes caused her to forget the speeches she had memorized for such occasions. He only had to lean his face nearer before she astonished them both by impulsively brushing her lips against his own. Such an invitation was impossible to resist even if he'd had much resistance, which he did not. He held her face lightly in both of his hands while he kissed her softly at first, and then with a new level of unrestrained passion that thrilled her beyond all sensible considerations. The feelings held back all day, including Elizabeth's regrets at pushing him away, and his regrets at staying away, proved to be more powerful than intentions or resolutions.
It was not until matters progressed to this point that Elizabeth sharply felt the danger of succumbing to his kiss, and the full implications of it. She suddenly pulled away. He dropped his hands and stared at her, his breath fast and uneven, but when he leaned forward to claim her lips again, she pulled completely free of him and stood.
"It has been a long day. I'm very tired." He continued to stare at her, wordlessly. She added awkwardly, "thank you again for your generosity and kindness today." With those words, she bent down and kissed him quickly on the cheek before hurrying toward the door. "Good night, Mr. Darcy."
"Good night, Mrs. Darcy." He watched her departure in a daze, amazed at how effectively she'd brushed him off again.
After she'd left the room, he continued to sit at the pianoforte, speculating, and began to disentangle her conflicting messages with a new sense of conviction. At the height of those most exciting moments between them, he had felt her passion matching his. Followed as it was originally by her professed dislike and scorn, and then after later encounters by moments of withdrawal from him, he thought he was somehow misreading her signals, or deluding himself in the heat of the moment. Mr. Darcy was guilty of arrogance, but never personal vanity. No sooner had their carriage ride yesterday suggested that she welcomed his advances, then her withdrawal to her room for the remainder of the day sent him into the hurt of rejection, a fact that someone as proud as he was appalled to admit to himself.
However, he was also too intelligent to keep missing the obvious, even when so emotionally involved. Though he was dissatisfied with the outcome of this evening, he became encouraged by certain new revelations. Now he was convinced that his instincts were right all along. Tonight indicated that new explanations were required for her consistently inconsistent behaviour. He stood and began to pace.
One thing is crystal clear now, based on yesterday and today - nay, if I think about it objectively, every single encounter between us, including the exchange on our wedding night - and even Netherfield!...She is not fighting me so much as she is fighting herself.
Such an insight led to even more complicated questions. Why she continued to fight herself when she felt powerfully attracted to him, he did not know. He could think of no reasonable explanation for it. They were married, she desired him, she knew that he desired her, that her future was secure, and that he was of a steady, reliable disposition. She had said she liked and respected him, and by now had witnessed his care in performing the serious responsibilities attached to his privileges. She must know that I am exclusively attracted to her; she need never doubt my monogamous nature or the sincerity of my wedding vows. He paused, somewhat uncertain about those last points. He had not exactly made a good first impression regarding his erotic practices. Yet, surely they had settled that issue between them? After all, they had made a pact to give one another the benefit of the doubt on the subject of rakes and forgers.
In frustration he forced his attention away from the baffling question of her thoughts for refusing him, and turned again to the hopeful evidence of her behaviour. That she was receptive to him there could be no further denying. In fact, she had made some overtures of her own.
His conviction about her feelings removed from him the obstacle that had so far restrained his efforts. Coercion remained unacceptable to him for any reason. But given their mutual feelings, seduction was perfectly fair within such a context as their marriage. With new determination, he felt that though he had never been calculating with regard to a woman before, now might be the time to begin. His patience, usually one of his greatest strengths, had lasted all of four days.
Chapter 22
Sunday dawned brightly, but for once Elizabeth was impervious to the charm of a fresh winter morning. She had slept ill, and with unusual slowness rang the bell for her maid before rising to freshen up. It was her intention to request a breakfast tray and avoid her husband at all costs. She was highly aware of how close she'd come to yielding to Mr. Darcy's advances last night. Now, she knew, was the time for complete, mercilessly honest self-evaluation and careful plans.
She had only time to return, notice the fire was now lit, and scramble under the warm covers when she heard a knock at her door. Bidding entry, Elizabeth stared as Mr. Darcy, and not Clare, entered the room. He wore a gunmetal silk dressing gown that played off his handsome figure and dark colouring in disconcerting ways. She forced herself to concentrate.
He was carrying a breakfast tray which he brought to her before moving around to join her on her bed. His affable smile made her feel ashamed of being suspicious of such intimacy.
"I think you will find breakfast this morning a great treat, Elizabeth. I confess, it is one of my favourites." Since he pointed to the items on the tray as he spoke, she forced her eyes to examine them. There were freshly made French rolls and pastries, jam, butter, and cream, two cups of chocolate, an impressive array of fresh fruit, cheese, and a pot of fragrant tea. It was not the most typical English breakfast, but Elizabeth liked everything she saw. The warming chocolate sent her into silent raptures. As they partook of the feast, she felt suddenly very happy to enjoy their cozy companionship as she observed his similar pleasure.
"You are very fortunate to have a French chef."
"Then I am thrice so, for I have three - though only one at this house. Even they concede to the excellence of Pemberley's stores...and English jam."
She smiled as he handed her a roll topped with jam, butter, and cream.
"You must exercise a great deal, sir, if you eat like this on a regular basis."
"Well, since we must go to church today, I will be forced to miss fencing practice. Perhaps a walk in the park instead?"
"I should like that! Though we have been busy enough, I am not accustomed to such little activity outdoors."
"It's a shame the garden is not bigger and the yard unfit for walking. Fortunately, we have a public park nearby...here, you must try this orange, though it is too late in the season to be from Pemberley's orangery."
Saying that, he held the slice to her lips. While she self-consciously ate his offering, he insisted that she take more of the rich chocolate. She needed no special urging to taste a combination of flavours that were as much a favourite of hers as his.
"I didn't realize before how much pleasure you take from -"
"- Earthly delights?"
"I was going to say food." Unable to resist meeting the challenge in his eyes, made all the more insufferable by the arrogant lift of his right brow, she decided to beat him at his own game. "Although," she added, with a seductive raise of her own brow as she leaned slightly towards him "I am curious to hear what you have to say on the subject of earthly delights in general."
Before she knew what he was about, he had popped a delectable-looking portion of a pastry into her mouth - as though to punish her for such sauciness. Her face reflected her pleasure in the pastry's delicateness as she devoured it.
He was watching her in fascination. "I take a great deal of pleasure in many things, among them music, and the beauties of nature."
"Whatever was that?"
"A Napolitain, also known as a Napoleon."
"Surely not!" she teased. "As an Englishwoman I fear I am revealing serious failings of taste."
"Napoleons have nothing to do with Bonaparte." He smiled, but then became momentarily serious. "Contrary to popular opinion here, and his own opinion on the subject, Napoleon is not Europe, nor even France. One must not throw the delightful baby out with the slimy water."
"I completely agree. ...Yet can we hope that what's undesirable will be tossed out?"
"In time, if Wellington is ever decently supplied."1 Thinking a discussion of a despot was not the least bit romantic, he sought to change the subject quickly. "I shall have to bore you with the recitation of some trivial knowledge. The English name for the pastry is the result of a misunderstanding of the French word. It should be translated as Neopolitan, pertaining to Naples, or so André informs me. Although, he assures me that the inventor is indeed French, like all culinary geniuses. As a pastry it is very much like the French mille-fueille or the Italian mille foglie both of which mean 'a thousand leaves' ". 2
"You can never bore me with new information, Mr. Darcy. I'm always grateful for it." She lifted her cup again. "And what are the origins of this delicious chocolate? André's genius?"
"Unquestionably. I would not ask him any questions if I were you. If his sensitive soul misinterprets and thinks you are fishing for his closely guarded secrets, he will cut you off. It's best to enjoy your decadence in silent appreciation."
She could not help but smile her agreement as she sipped at the heady ambrosia, unlike any hot chocolate she'd ever experienced, before reaching for more orange slices. "Though there is plenty of cocoa to be had at the moment elsewhere."3
"A small consolation for the dearth of other staples."4 But Mr. Darcy did not wish to talk politics or agriculture in such a setting. He was discovering that it was a challenge to keep Elizabeth's agile mind on subjects relevant to a seduction. He traced his finger lightly along the exposed part of her arm to her wrist. "Among the delights of nature, I have a particular fondness for wood nymphs."
"I cannot believe you addressed me as such before my aunt and uncle."
"They seemed in sympathy with the reflection."
"Promise me you will not make such a comment before others - certainly not when we dine at the Hursts."
"That sounds oddly like a wifely instruction."
"Nay. I merely wish to preserve my own character. Not that I care what they think; they already hold me in contempt for what they consider my wild ways."
"Ah, your infamous walk to Netherfield." He was highly amused.
"A ha, then I am correct! They think me wild and will likely warn all your friends." She was half-teasing and half in earnest. "I should appreciate it if you did not reinforce such an impression."
"They were merely unhappy that day, because you looked so well. My friends will judge your walking ability more fairly, I promise."
Her laughter was cut short when she found herself being drawn into the spell his eyes seemed to cast; they had become more demanding with each compliment he uttered. She wished, more than ever, to dispel his foolish insistence that she was a wood nymph-type of young lady, with all its implications of wantonness. "I beg you to remember that I am a rational creature, sir - and highly respectable."
He was surprised that she seemed genuinely offended by his endearment. "I was merely referring to your love of the outdoors. You must acknowledge, you have been known to wander about the countryside for large portions of the day. I think I shall enjoy watching you roam about Pemberley's woods, only, kindly remember to return before I must send out a search party."
"Well, it's not as though I plan to disappear for long stretches, climb trees, or hole-up in an abandoned gypsy caravan. You will not have to send out a search party because I do not intend to get lost."
"I'm pleased to hear it, though I have no intention of losing you - that would be terribly careless of me."
"I believe it is only carelessness if you lose two wives the very same way."5
He laughed at her cleverness. "I should not mind seeing you climb a tree - provided you restrict yourself to the lowest, safest branches."
"Sir, I am as likely to climb a tree as you are to jump into a pond."
"I may take that as a promise."
Elizabeth did not know what to make of him. She was finding it extremely difficult to resist his charm. Never had she seen him so unreserved or playful. It was as though he had deliberately set out to sweep her off her feet. That did not seem likely, though. Mr. Darcy was anything but coy. Finally, she concluded that he was simply more at home in his own home than anywhere else. As he at last removed the breakfast tray, she watched him closely, reflecting that the last few days had revealed sides of him she'd never suspected existed. Well, she thought dryly, intricate characters are the most amusing.
A smile tugged at her lips as she considered his good-natured humour towards his temperamental chef, the family's endearingly odd name for the housekeeper, and his unerring patience with less-than-ideal Clare. Though his home was unquestionably well run, such intimacy with these little bumps in the façade of perfection humanized the owner almost more than anything else could do. His exacting standards were shown to be balanced by a kind heart. While his pleasing attentions to her could be interpreted as arising from an ulterior motive, the same could not be said of his dealings with his servants. He need not be considerate, fair, and patient. Here, more than anywhere else, he could rule with an iron fist if he so chose. Yet here, more than anywhere else, she detected a humbleness in all his dealings - a sense of nobility which well befitted a man of so much power. The very house exuded a warmth and cheerfulness which spoke of many years of mutual affection and harmonious coexistence between the family and their staff.
Her reflections were interrupted by the subject of them as he rejoined her and drew her hand to his lips for a tender caress. He smiled his indulgence as he pulled her hand abruptly away to inspect it after only one kiss. "Your fingers are sticky from the oranges." Overcome with embarrassment, she attempted to pull her hand back, but he would not have it.
"Nay," he spoke soothingly as he drew her fingers to his lips once again. She gasped and could not tear her eyes away as she watched him lick each finger in turn. He regarded her with such intensity, that wherever he looked her body tingled in an odd anticipation, and she thought it must be her wildly beating heart that made it so impossible to catch her breath. His eyes eventually resting on her lips, he leaned nearer and nearer as he spoke. "This will not do. I cannot attend to an orange crisis while ignoring a greater plight created by chocolate."
She knew there was something she was supposed to remember, but she couldn't remember what it was. Something...connected to music....As his lips claimed hers she forgot to even think, much less search her memory. Time and space seemed to recede as there was now only him. His lips alternately demanding and gentle left her weak and willing with disgraceful quickness.
With such encouragement, he became bolder sooner than he had intended. He could not completely repress the chant in his head that she was his lawful wife, nor help but notice the convenient cut of her bodice. Seduction, he was learning, was a tricky business.
She found it impossible to resist his caresses, though he was quite brazen and did not hesitate to resume the explorations his hands had begun the night before. Lying back against her pillows, she gave into a long-felt need to conduct her own further explorations of his back and shoulders, to nuzzle his throat and chest, actions which seemed to spur him on. Heightened sensations culminated into a powerful sizzling jolt when his palm began teasing and stroking her sensitized skin through the material of her nightdress. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this should stop, but she felt powerless to protest, distracted for the moment as she was by the persistence of his mouth dueling with her own. ...
Before he knew what he was about, he was reaching for the ties at her bodice. ...
As is often the case with virtuous females, such blatant actions cut like a knife through the passions and return them to their senses. Mr. Darcy knew his mistake as soon as he'd committed it; he made a mental note for next time as he helplessly watched Elizabeth pull away from him. He remained immune to feeling properly chastised as a sinner however, regardless of the reproachful look she cast him as she insisted they get ready for church.
1 Wellington was sent to the Peninsula in 1809.
Chapter 23
ON Monday, Elizabeth was startled out of her sleep by a determined kiss. He then, very rudely, pulled back her covers and urged her to get up to make herself presentable before her breakfast got cold. Blinking in amazement, she perceived that Mr. Darcy was dressed only in a shirt and breeches, without benefit of necktie, waistcoat or jacket. He stared at her in mock impatience, and she gave a startled cry when he lifted her into his arms and carried her through to her dressing room himself, complaining about how spoilt she was becoming.
"Spoilt? It is not yet six o'clock surely?"
"By six o'clock at Pemberley I expect you to have been up an hour at least. The cows do not get milked on their own you know."
She burst out laughing. "And is milking the cows the primary duty of the Mistress of Pemberley?"
He stopped mid-stride to consider. "Oh no," his voice became decidedly huskier, "her real day begins at four with the horses."
She thought it wisest not to ask him anything further about her duties. He deposited her rather unceremoniously and strode from the room, calling over his shoulder that he expected her to return in five minutes, then closed the door behind him. Elizabeth stared after him. Leave it to Mr. Darcy to exhibit teasing as... arrogance. And how maddening it was to discover that she was inordinately pleased by his unpredictable attentions - like a completely idiotic female!
He handed her a cup of chocolate as soon as she entered her bedroom again, taking care to avoid her eyes until he had quelled his smug expression. Once the rudiments had been mastered, successful fencing depended on unsettling one's opponent with the element of surprise. Based on everything he had ever observed about women, he was convinced that a seduction worked exactly the same way. Attention, focus, surprise. Not difficult really.
But the longer Elizabeth stood there in only her nightdress, the more difficult he found it to concentrate. And when she came to him, wrapping her arms around him for an affectionate kiss, he was completely thrown off his strategy. The next moment she nonchalantly stepped away and hurried to her bed where she scrambled under the covers.
"Are you not going to bring me my tray?"
He smiled at her. One should never underestimate one's opponent.
They partook of André's culinary magic with gusto, pausing only to encourage the other in sampling here and there. The sharing of food gave way to other expressions of affection, and Elizabeth willingly returned his demanding kisses with a hunger of her own. He proceeded slowly, patiently, in his various attentions - until she was urging him for more.
His breath ragged, his heart pounding, as he stared at the beauty revealed to him, he was caught momentarily by the vulnerability in her beautiful dark eyes, and hesitated. Elizabeth chose that moment to unconsciously arch towards him and he was lost. She heard him murmur something about her loveliness and sweet taste. It was completely unintelligible but she smiled, only to gasp again, her hands leaving his shoulders to tangle in his hair. She closed her eyes, bit her lip, unable to bear the delicious feelings that overwhelmed her. They both knew that she was yielding to temptation. Darcy was too overwhelmed himself to feel triumphant; Elizabeth was too much in need of him at that moment to resent or regret her capitulation.
Only the untimely knock at the door halted the successful conclusion of his seduction. They stared at each other in dismay.
"Mrs. Darcy?"
"What...what is it, Clare?"
"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I was supposed to fetch the Master. I couldn't find him, and Mr. Wyse said he wasn't to be found, which made no sense. So I thought you might know his whereabouts?"
Elizabeth glanced at him to see how he bore such an indiscrete inquiry. Mr. Darcy merely smiled grimly as he headed over to speak through the door. His tone was surprisingly patient.
"What is it, Clare?"
The sudden squeak on the other side of the door revealed Clare's realization that she'd made another mistake. "I'm very sorry for disturbing you sir. I didn't know you was in the mistress' room. I've never seen you in there before..."
The humour of the situation finally overcoming her distress, Elizabeth pressed her hand over her mouth to muffle the sudden laughter that bubbled up in her. She had not expected such delightful absurdities in her new home. Darcy shot her a warning look.
He spoke kindly as he tried again. "What exactly am I being fetched for, Clare?"
"Oh sorry! Mrs. R. II wants you to know that Mr. Bingley is waiting in the breakfast room to go fencing."
Darcy frowned in puzzlement. A glance at the clock showed it to be seven. He had not expected him until eight. The only explanation he could find was that Bingley had invited himself for breakfast ? perhaps to discuss whatever was bothering him? Torn between pleasure and duty he fought a valiant battle. It had to be important, he reminded himself, for Bingley to impose in this manner.
"Thank you, Clare. You may tell Mrs. R. II to tell Bingley I shall be down directly."
"Very good, sir!...and I'm very, very sorry for disturbing you! Mrs. R. II is going to tan me for this."
"Well, Clare," her employer opened the door just enough to speak with her face to face on this weightier subject, "we are not in the habit of tanning people here, but I will not tell Mrs. R. II if you do not. In exchange, you must promise me to remember that in future, if Mr. Wyse declares me not to be found, then you will simply report that back to Mrs. R. II, and that's the end of it. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir! Thank you sir!"
"Oh and Clare ?"
"Yes sir?"
"The same basic rule applies to Mrs. Darcy. Unless she rings for you, or gives you directions to the contrary, you may safely assume that she is not to be found. If it seems urgently necessary to disturb her, then ask Mrs. R. II for clarification before you do." He searched her face, which was red with embarrassment, though he had spoken without any implied criticism. "Clear?"
"Clear, sir!" She bobbed and hurried away as he closed the door.
"I'm sorry about this situation, Elizabeth. Clare is only seventeen and has not had many opportunities before coming to us. I see I should have sent to Pemberley rather than assigning her as your maid. I assure you, we are not usually this disorganized - according to Mrs. R.II she's not lacking in native abilities, just very fearful of doing wrong..." His voice trailed away. He was clearly displeased with himself.
"Well, Mr. Darcy, I hope I am not so heartless as to resent your kindness toward your servants. And after all, you had less than a week to arrange everything before we wed. As I have never had a personal maid before, I can hardly criticize your thoughtfulness in supplying me with one on such short notice...Please know that I will do my best to emulate your excellence as an employer."
He turned to her then, and realized that she was regarding him with unmistakable admiration. It was a highly pleasing sensation. He felt a brief ripple of guilt as he recalled that he had been busy trying to seduce her before Clare's interruption, but he submerged it quickly. "Mr. Bingley is waiting. I'd better get going."
"Please send him my regards, as I have not seen him for an entire two days."
BY the time Mr. Darcy returned from fencing, Elizabeth was eager to take up his suggestion to spend another day wandering about and exploring town together. He had given it careful thought, and had more than one idea of adventure to test. He began with an offer for her to see some of the more famous sights of London. He quickly learned that Elizabeth was as unenthusiastic about acting the role of tourist as he secretly was. "What think you of shopping then? There are any number of merchants renown for their wares around here."
"We did a great deal of that yesterday."
"But that was merely peeking into windows; you did not buy anything yesterday."
"Well, I would not mind popping into a few merchants, if I come across something of interest. I confess, I've had my fill of shopping for awhile. There is not anything I really need."
"Oh...well, have you been to Mssrs. Flint and Palmer? They're famous for their set prices."
She smiled. "Oh yes, I have. And that is rather far, is it not? Almost to Gracechurch Street. I should not want to go so far without seeing my aunt and uncle."
"Perhaps we should stay nearer to home today." He did not particularly want to share her with anyone. He was struck by a sudden inspiration. "Sutton & Meeks is not that far - only Leicester Square, still the West End."
"If you are determined to take me from the immediate environment, I must express a fancy I have to return to Bloomsbury."
"Bloomsbury? Whatever for?"
"Books. There are any number of small booksellers there. Have you never gone?"
"Why no, I...usually go 'round the corner to Hatchard's."
"Hatchard's, yes of course. Your small neighbourhood bookseller. How silly of me..."
"Elizabeth, they are just the shops I'm used to because this is where I live."
"Well sir, then I most definitely fancy Hatchard's, simply because that is somewhere you frequent. I am not interested in rushing about to spend as much money as possible. I want to know our neighbourhood intimately. Like a friend, not a visitor. And I want to see it through your eyes. You cannot tell me you frequent Sutton and Meeks."
He smiled and immediately crossed Gunter's off his mental list. His neighbourhood through his eyes, he realized, involved going fencing, walking to any of his clubs, riding his horse in the quieter parks or at least, the quieter hours, and popping into whatever merchant he came across when he recalled that he needed something. Everything was so close and convenient that he really gave it little thought. His evenings might involve endless social obligations, but his days were generally carefree once he met his responsibilities as a landowner and master. He frowned. Now he was really at a loss. Elizabeth did not ride, could not fence, and was not permitted inside gentlemen's clubs. He began to worry that his habits would appear a bit dull to someone as vivacious as she was. That was not exactly likely to sweep her off her feet.
At least he knew that she enjoyed going for walks. "Why don't we take some exercise along the Queen's Walk? You have not yet seen Green Park, and though it's not as grand as many others, it is the least crowded. Then from there we could entertain ourselves within the neighbourhood for the rest of the morning and head to Bloomsbury after luncheon."
"I would dearly love to begin the day with a walk in the park."
THEY had their walk along the park avenue, both savouring the invigorating weather - despite the fact that Mrs. R. II had looked skeptical and pronounced it too cold, that Mr. Wyse had insisted on Mr. Darcy's heaviest greatcoat, and that Clare had simply looked horrified at the idea of Quality facing the elements like Cockneys. From the park, they made their way along St James Street where Darcy managed to persuade Elizabeth to spend some of his money on perfume and lavender water at Rotely Harris. Unfortunately for him, she became determined to make him purchase something for himself, and though at first he was adamantly opposed, she persisted so sweetly that eventually he conceded the need for a new pair of gloves.
He led her to his usual merchant, opening the door to usher her inside. It occurred to Elizabeth that she had never actually been inside a men's shop before in her entire life and that there was a certain unmistakable intimacy involved in helping Mr. Darcy choose an article of clothing. As she moved about the room with him, inspecting various pairs of gloves, she felt the clerk's curious eyes on her. When the owner entered from the back, Mr. Darcy introduced Elizabeth to him and smiled in appreciation of his congratulations. Elizabeth thanked him as well, although she was embarrassed by the feelings that swept through her when Mr. Darcy referred to her as his wife for probably only the third or fourth time ever. When the owner left them to peruse his merchandise, Elizabeth slipped her arm through Darcy's and smiled her pleasure.
Darcy was not exactly certain what he'd done right, but was not foolish enough to analyze the cause of her sudden radiance. He was learning to simply accept and enjoy such irresistible gifts when she gave them - and with Elizabeth, he knew that it was impossible to predict them. She was, more than anything else, a spontaneous creature by nature. The stood close together, supposedly examining the gloves on the table before them, but in reality, unable to take their eyes off each other. It was he who finally broke the spell out of a sheer desperate self-preserving need to avoid the most obvious temptation; for even a married couple should not be caught passionately kissing while standing in front of a shop window in the most fashionable part of town. He reached for the nearest pair of gloves.
"I'll take these."
"Those? Do you have something to match such an odd colour?" She was regarding him with slightly widened eyes.
He stared down at the gloves in his hand, and realized they were a garish colour. Horrified, since he was no dandy, he placed them on the table again. "Umm, no, I meant these."
She squeezed his arm affectionately with her own. "I am relieved. I think if you ordered the other ones to wear, no one would notice anything about you but your gloves - even at fifty paces."
He smiled sheepishly. "You distract me madam."
"Even without glowing gloves?" He was forced to laugh at her teasing, for she was entirely too charming with that saucy look on her face. Still, he could not resist leaning forward to tease her in turn with a few shocking whispered words. "If you really wish to distract me, then the absence of gloves would not be my first priority." Her becoming blush reminded him that he was trying to seduce her, and he resolved to not lose his concentration again simply because of her seductive ways.
With that in mind, he probably paid the shortest visit to Hatchard's in his life, although they spent a good hour there. Elizabeth seemed contented to browse at whatever table he was browsing at and professed great curiosity at any number of books, asking him several questions about ones he'd already read. He could not help smiling at how easy it was to engage her active mind. Still, he was aware of her wish to visit Bloomsbury, and did not want to wear out her enthusiasm for book-hunting before they'd even begun.
As they continued on their carefree odyssey along Piccadilly, he was caught between romance and practical concern for her needs. "You know, we really should purchase a new set of trunks for you."
"Mine are perfectly good...Oh look, a ballad seller at the corner." She tore from him, and hurried along before he could stop her.
"Elizabeth!" He felt a sudden panic, lest she be rushing towards a pickpocket as she turned down Haymarket.* When he reached her, she regarded him without apology, despite his angry expression. This particular ballad seller sang the music she hoped to sell. Elizabeth turned back to her and listened attentively, enraptured by the melody, while Darcy stood directly behind her with his arms folded in front of him impatiently. Glancing around, he relaxed somewhat, despite the growing crowds as the hour approached noon. He was always attuned to the streets, but worrying about another person's safety was a new experience to him. His sister, like many young ladies, did not walk far about London; a carriage always took her directly to the door. Much to his chagrin, he saw that Elizabeth was opening her reticule to purchase sheet music from the woman. He could not know that she was carrying only a small amount of coin. As she handed the woman a generous, though reasonable amount, she turned to Darcy. "You know, I think I shall purchase extra copies for Mary."
"By all means, madam. Open your reticule again. You've not given thieves and thugs quite an easy enough target yet."
She looked at him in astonishment. "My reticule is likely worth more than what I am carrying in it." He said nothing, merely hurried her along, displeasure clearly etched on his face. "Mr. Darcy, I thought we had agreed on no more forced marches! You are being inordinately ridiculous. I have walked about far less elegant neighbourhoods, and entirely alone. Why, I have even been to Billingsgate Wharf." That was not quite true; she had sat in the carriage with her aunt while her uncle had been to Billingsgate Wharf. Still, her words had the desired effect. Mr. Darcy looked properly horrified. She burst out laughing.
"Shall I tell you what I heard there?"**
"Please do, I am ever curious about your unorthodox education."
She bit her lip. She had not expected such an answer. It was Darcy's turn to laugh as he captured her by the shoulders. "You must learn not to laugh when you tell such outrageous falsehoods. It spoils the ring of false sincerity."
The mirth still in her eyes, she nodded. "I shall do my best to improve as a lying braggart. I know how much you admire an accomplished woman."
"If you are truly motivated, I shall give you a list of which deceptive arts to practice. Only, self-flattery shall not top the list."
There really was nothing she could say to that.
LUNCHEON brought about yet another evolution in Darcy's experience. When he pointed out the coffeehouse that he frequented along Pall Mall, Elizabeth immediately wanted to go inside to take their refreshment there. Such an idea would have been completely out of the question for Darcy a week ago. The coffeehouse was an informal meeting place, a club without a clubhouse made up of friends committed to higher intellectual standards in literature and science. Some of the most outstanding men of letters gathered there on a regular basis. Though technically, women were permitted inside, there were few who ever ventured near. Elizabeth's eager expression softened his heart, however, and before he knew what he was about, he had escorted her inside to his usual table. It was not long before a few of his acquaintance came over to congratulate him on his marriage and he took the opportunity to introduce her to some of his closer friends.
If Elizabeth had ever wondered what other friends he might have beyond Mr. Bingley, she was impressed to discover the type of people he associated with here. She listened with pleasure to the witty exchanges and fascinating news about people whose names she recognized from her own reading, though there were many names she did not recognize. She was trying to decide what to ask him, when another gentleman approached the table and not only greeted them, but sat down himself to regale Darcy with tales of all the latest intrigues. Elizabeth was highly amused by his sharp, humorous speeches, sometimes good-natured, sometimes bordering on the unkind, but still dizzyingly entertaining. When he finally stood and took his leave, she could not resist asking about him.
"Is the Right Honourable Mr. Croker always so energetic a speaker?"
"Yes, and quite appropriately so, for each of his professions. Have you read any of his works?"
"No, I'm afraid not. I have heard of him though. He's in parliament, but I'm afraid I've forgotten -"
"He's Secretary of the Admiralty. I can't say I agree with all of his opinions, but he's certainly one of the most colourful men of our time."
"Is he a close friend of yours?"
"No, I know him mostly through Lawrence."
"Ah, and whoever is this Lawrence that has so angered a patron?"
"Forgive me, I hope you did not feel excluded? Croker was referring to Sir Thomas Lawrence."
"Sir Thomas Lawrence! The famous portraitist? Even I have heard of him, and I am no art patron."
Darcy smiled. "Lawrence is famous, or I should say infamous, for putting aside a commission that's almost finished but without completely finishing it, only to leave it in his studio - for years. Drives his patrons wild. We've been fortunate, in that my father befriended him when he was just starting out, so probably out of gratitude, all our family portraits were done in a reasonable length of time....I was thinking of approaching him about having your portrait painted."
"Mine? Done by Sir Thomas Lawrence? You cannot be serious."
"Certainly I'm serious."
She could not resist a sly comment. "I thought Lawrence was a Romantic in his style."
His smile widened; he fully comprehended what she was about. "No, I will not deny that his dramatic use of light and colour manages to capture women as almost otherworldly, and that he is extremely sensitive to the relationship between subject and surrounding landscape. But as a matter of fact, his ideas of beauty are adapted from Aristotle's Poetics - he's at core a student of the classical."
"Ah, and therefore still maintains an interest in technique and craft."
Darcy looked at her curiously for a moment. "I thought you said you knew nothing of art."
"I don't, but even I can tell emotional substance from self-indulgence, and conceptual brilliance as distinct from technical virtuosity. Few in any of the arts manage to capture emotional truth, intelligence, and craft all at once."
"It seems to me that you can tell a great deal if you can tell only that. Though I must question one of your implied conclusions. It will not do to accuse excess of sensibility as an explanation for sloppy technique - as much as it pains me to admit it. And if you don't believe me, I have a Reynolds rapidly falling apart that I can show you."
"No!"
"Oh yes. No brilliant technician he, despite his adherence to the classical....why don't we pay a call at Lawrence's studio before we leave London? I know that he'd like to meet you, and it's only over on Bond Street. You can see some of his work then, and decide if you'd like to sit for him. I think his sense of the dramatic would make it possible to capture your vivacity and do justice to the lively expression in your eyes."
She could not help but be flattered. On top of all his other kindnesses, and all his other tender gestures, Mr. Darcy apparently thought the most famous portraitist of the time was required simply to do her person justice. She wondered if any woman could long withstand the onslaught of his determined courting.
THE continuance of Mr. Darcy's plan was somewhat interrupted when, after dinner, they were informed that Mr. Bingley wished to see them. Exchanging confused looks, they nevertheless were both concerned enough to invite him to stay to coffee. He did so, seemed somewhat embarrassed at being there, looked sheepish as he inquired how they had fared since he'd last seen them, and apologized for interrupting a quiet evening at home. He offered no explanation for his presence there, however. Neither did he seem all that disposed to conversation though he eagerly attended to every word, glance and gesture between the couple. Having learned her lesson the other day, Elizabeth did not raise the subject of her sister again, though once or twice she fancied that as he looked at her, an odd expression came over his face and she had the distinct impression that he was attempting to trace a resemblance to Jane.
Conversation, strangely enough led by Darcy, eventually turned to some mutual acquaintance who had just announced their engagement, and Elizabeth was startled by such an acute look of pain in Mr. Bingley's eyes. Compassion then decided her. She would excuse herself, in the hopes that whatever was troubling his friend would be revealed to Darcy in her absence. The gentlemen bowed as she left the room; her husband remained reserved before company as was his wont, though if she had known how very much he regretted their separation, it would have made her own disappointment easier.
ELIZABETH curled up on a sofa near the fire in the small sitting room that was fast becoming a favourite. Impatiently, she tried to read, but instead found her thoughts wandering to the drawing room, wondering if she could reasonably hope to see her husband again this evening. Forcing her attention back to her own whereabouts, she reflected wryly that she could not determine which element of her new surroundings she found more seductive. The comfort of her new home, the incredible food frequently placed before her, or the exhaustive collection of books with which to distract her. I shall conveniently leave Mr. Darcy off the list, for I refuse to allow him even more of my thoughts than he already consumes. She laughed at herself as she realized that that very last thought had brought her mind around to him again! With a sigh, she forced her eyes back to her page. Her escape was not to be however. She fancied Mr. Darcy must have sensed that she was not dwelling on him enough in the span of the last several minutes, for he presented himself to her a mere quarter of an hour later, during which time she'd managed to successfully read an entire single page. His warm greeting seemed a deliberate act to reclaim his rightful place as her greatest distraction. He sat down beside her, claimed her hand for a tender kiss, then proceeded to lift her legs onto his lap and eliminate the impediment of her slippers in order to message her feet.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you?"
"I find I have not the patience for reading anyway."
"Good....We have been walking almost all day. Your feet must be tired."
"Not terribly, but thank you. ...Did Mr. Bingley need to see you about something in particular?"
"Apparently not, no."
"I wonder at his calling on us yet again when you saw him earlier today. What do you think is going on with him?"
"Elizabeth, I really don't know. Understand though, if he did confide in me, as a good friend I would not be able to divulge such confidences."
"Of course not...I understand. I'm just concerned is all."
"As am I. However, until he is willing to reveal the reasons for his odd behaviour, we must simply tolerate it without question."
She nodded her agreement though she felt frustrated. She smiled, not wanting him to think she was unhappy with him in any way. Darcy took this encouragement to heart. His plan had been delayed long enough by Bingley's arrival.
In carefully analyzing and reviewing the eternal dance of courtship (as much as he had observed it among his acquaintance) Darcy had acknowledged that the more smitten swains eventually progressed to a state involving the recitation (and God forbid, sometimes writing) of poetry - as proof of strong attachment. Such wooing must be regarded as an embarrassing idea to a man of sense, he thought, for poetry was in his mind a solitary enjoyment, not a performance, and he wondered if rakish necessity likewise demanded such drastic measures. It was one thing to read a poem and dwell on the beloved. It was quite another to debase oneself before her like a lovesick puppy. His reserve simply would not allow it. ...It was with great relief that he finally recalled Elizabeth's opinion on the subject of poetry, and since he feared her inclination was not yet, to remember her own word, stout enough (hence his need to resort to seduction in the first place) he decided not to run the risk. Instead, he searched for a plausible substitute, and determined that, if he must read something aloud, it might as well be something he could pull off with some credit and with his self-respect intact. He knew that Elizabeth dearly loved to laugh, and so he resolved on reading comedy to her instead. That was his plan and he set about carrying it off immediately with all his usual determination.
Elizabeth was at first surprised by his offer to read to her, but immediately consented to the idea. From her end of the sofa, she listened to his highly expressive voice with rapt attention, and quickly felt all the privilege attached to witnessing his rarely shared ability to perform in such an animated way. He continued to read, savouring her responses. ...
"My Father, seduced by the false glare of Fortune and the Deluding Pomp of Title, insisted on my giving my hand to Lady Dorothea. "No, never," exclaimed I. "Lady Dorothea is lovely and Engaging; I prefer no woman to her; but know, Sir, that I scorn to marry her in compliance with your Wishes. No! Never shall it be said that I obliged my Father." We all admired the noble Manliness of his reply. He continued: "Sir Edward was surprized; he had perhaps little expected to meet with so spirited an opposition to his will. 'Where, Edward in the name of wonder (said he) did you pick up this unmeaning gibberish? You have been studying Novels, I suspect.' I scorned to answer: it would have been beneath my dignity."
He had judged well. She was properly delighted, and he felt a curious relief to know that she liked one of his favourite humourists; only after that was established did he realize he had braced himself lest her reaction disappoint him. And, whereas poetry might have raised her suspicions and her guard, comedy achieved the opposite effect of weakening her resolve a little bit more. He saw it in her face.
...We soon saw through his character. He was just such a Man as one might have expected to be the choice of Macdonald. They said he was Sensible, well- informed, and Agreeable; we did not pretend to Judge of such trifles, but as we were convinced he had no soul, that he had never read The Sorrows of Werter, and that his Hair bore not the least resemblance to auburn, we were certain that Janetta could feel no affection for him, or at least that she ought to feel none. The very circumstance of his being her father's choice too, was so much in his disfavour, that had he been deserving her in every other respect, yet that of itself ought to have been a sufficient reason in the Eyes of Janetta for rejecting him.
Recovering from another wave of laughter, Elizabeth declared that the Poetics were in fact complete. "There is no need to wonder what Aristotle wrote of comedy; this author's work is treatise enough."
Darcy smiled and readily agreed with this reflection, though he resisted the temptation to expound on the merits of her claim. Now was not the time for classical philosophers. It was impossible however, to not be moved with admiration for her active mind. The exciting possibilities of her next reaction compelled him to continue.
...we had no difficulty to convince her that it was impossible she could love Graham, or that it was her Duty to disobey her Father; the only thing at which she rather seemed to hesitate, was our assertion that she must be attached to some other Person. For some time, she persevered in declaring that she knew no other Young Man for whom she had the smallest Affection; but upon explaining the impossibility of such a thing, she said that she beleived she did like Captain M'Kenzie better than any one she knew besides. This confession satisfied us, and after having enumerated the good Qualities of M'Kenzie, and assured her that she was violently in love with him, we desired to know whether he had ever in any wise declared his affection to her. "So far from having ever declared it, I have no reason to imagine that he has ever felt any for me." said Janetta. "That he certainly adores you (replied Sophia) there can be no doubt. -- The Attachment must be reciprocal. Did he never gaze on you with Admiration -- tenderly press your hand -- drop an involuntary tear -- and leave the room abruptly?" "Never (replied she) that I remember -- he has always left the room indeed when his visit has been ended, but has never gone away particularly abruptly or without making a bow." "Indeed my Love (said I) you must be mistaken -- for it is absolutely impossible that he should ever have left you but with Confusion, Despair, and Precipitation. Consider but for a moment, Janetta, and you must be convinced how absurd it is to suppose that he could ever make a Bow, or behave like any other Person." **
The only unintended consequence of Darcy's plan thus far was a vague realization that he had somehow been as trapped by his own design as she was. Elizabeth's musical laughter had always delighted him, and now, to hear her so freely share it with him, and to discover yet another similarity of taste and turn of their minds, was a greater joy. They had shared amusement at their common plight on more than one occasion, and certainly her lively mind was a challenge in their frequent verbal sparring - but never was he so enchanted as now to know they had so much in common. All these pleasing discoveries conspired to make him wonder how he had come to tolerate his sterile existence before she had entered his life. Looking at her now, her eyes alive with mirth, her manner completely captivating as she gazed at him and spontaneously applauded his efforts when he finished, and calculation completely dropped away. He drew her to him with a sudden fierceness, as he realized that her shared happiness was far more important to him than her complete surrender.
Though such intimacy is thought to be sublimely spiritual, a young couple falling in love cannot live by the sublime alone. In response to his spontaneous display of affection, Elizabeth surprised him by punctuating her appreciation with a sweet, tender kiss. "I am very glad you chose to share that with me. Thank you."
"I am very glad I gave you such pleasure."
"More than I can express."
"You might try."
She smiled. Some mischievous streak, brought forth by their laughter, seemed to overtake her then. It was simply a part of her disposition that her mirth would overflow to infuse her playful spirits. Whatever the cause, Mr. Darcy was at first content when she took up his challenge.
She ran her hands along his lapels, pulling him towards her for another, more daring kiss. To his surprise, after several pleasant moments spent thus, she tugged at his necktie and indulged herself in its removal. Darcy drew in his breath sharply as she unwound it completely, his mind leaping ahead to obvious outcomes. His necktie removed, she leaned over and gave his newly exposed flesh a playful nip, before sighing her contentment as she nuzzled against his throat. He saw all too clearly that she had no idea how a man might interpret her actions; her innocent expression of affection halted him from grabbing her and he cautioned himself to proceed with patience and tenderness. He was therefore all the more astonished the next moment when she began to wind his necktie around his wrists, laughing at his shocked expression.
"Elizabeth, what are you doing?"
"I am showing my appreciation."
"By binding my wrists?"
With a giggle she declared, "I require a captive audience".
He came to his senses too late, as he watched with growing chagrin while she tied an actual knot. He was confident though, that he could easily free his hands when he wished to do so. She then proceeded to remove his shoes, though their fashionably tight fit made it a real challenge.
"Is this to prevent my running away?"
Her only answer was to smile mysteriously.
"You should never undress a man unless you mean it."
She blushed, and he regretted unwittingly recalling her to the restrictions of propriety. He did not miss the reproach in her eyes, but he was torn between amusement and an uneasy, unfamiliar sense of being at another person's mercy. It was time to end her little joke. His struggle to free himself the next moment proved that she had yet another hidden talent. Clearly while other young ladies had learned the finer points of needlework, Elizabeth had somehow been instructed in the arts of a sailor.
She saw the right eyebrow quirk up and her self-censure - and resolution to untie him - gave way to a sudden desire to quell his arrogance. "I simply thought to return the favour and massage your feet for you."
"And you thought my hands would get in your way?"
"I know your hands will make it impossible." She covered her mouth with her own hand, horrified that she had blurted out such a thing. It was her turn to be shocked as Mr. Darcy gave a shout of laughter. With unerring, unconscious precision she had managed to pinpoint their ongoing dilemma. Laughter seemed a better option than vehement expressions of frustration.
Resigned to his situation, he allowed her to massage his feet ? though the image of her on her knees before him was distracting to say the least. Elizabeth found herself equally distracted. She had somehow forgot that his feet were attached to his well-muscled legs, so accurately revealed by his tight-legged trousers. Such thoughts made her wish to punish him a little more for increasingly inspiring unladylike reflections. It was not a sound plan at all, but she was in no mood to be reasonable. She lowered his foot to the floor and straightened up.
He stared at her questioningly and motioned for her to untie his wrists.
She shook her head, then giggled at his frown of displeasure. It was not every day that one had Fitzwilliam Darcy so completely at her mercy. It was, in fact, an irresistible situation. She stood in front of him, debating what she should do. Many ideas presented themselves; all were tempting. Her smile softened his displeasure somewhat, and he made a mental note that, in future, he would take greater care to avert the consequences of pleasing Elizabeth too much. Still, he was not the Master of Pemberley for nothing. Not even for Elizabeth would he suffer such indignities for long, though he forced a more good-humoured tone of voice than he felt.
"Madam, if you do not free my wrists immediately, I will not be responsible for my actions - when I get my hands on you."
"Tut tut, sir. This is no way to woo your wife."
"I'm not exactly in a position to woo you, am I?"
She burst into giggles again at the unmistakable exasperation in his voice. "Perhaps then I shall have to do the wooing."
Darcy's mood did an about-face at this unexpected declaration, and he watched with great curiosity as she gracefully knelt on the sofa beside him. Placing a hand on either side of his handsome face, she explored its shape, smiling as he gently nibbled when she brushed her fingers over his lips. She then proceeded to demonstrate the quickness of her mind; she had not forgot one single intimate lesson he had taught her, and she applied each of them with scholastic enthusiasm. Unfortunately, caught up in her current all-powerful position, she forgot how clever her opponent could be. As she attempted to withdraw from him to study the results of her efforts, he slipped his arms over her at the last moment with precise execution. She instinctively tried to push free before recalling that his wrists were bound and she was as good as trapped by her own plot.
"Mr. Darcy!"
"I believe you are conveniently at my mercy now." He then proceeded to demonstrate his mercy until she was breathless and a little dizzy. "Now will you unbind my wrists?"
"Oh no! If you are this much trouble now, I doubt I shall ever have the courage to untie you."
"Then we will remain trapped together until one of the servants, or perhaps Bingley, happens to find us."
"That could be a long time."
"Yes, it is fortunate we are on the sofa." She was not sure she understood his reasoning, since she was as yet still kneeling and her posture was becoming decidedly uncomfortable. Before she knew what he was about he had neatly shifted their positions. She cried out in surprise when she found herself swung over his knee and then on to her back, where he trapped her between his body and the sofa. She silently congratulated him on his physical agility. He has all the reflexes of a practiced swordsman. She took the opportunity to stretch out her legs completely with a sigh of contentment.
"This is a little more comfortable than kneeling."
"I'm glad you find it so, for you will likely remain there for some time." She found him staring down into her face in triumphant amusement, and something more she thought a little unsettling.
"I did not know you were so vengeful, sir." She was not unhappy with the situation.
He heard the teasing in her voice and decided that Elizabeth seemed quite willing to aid him in his campaign. Her response to a new barrage of aggressive kisses certainly suggested that she was. After he knew not how much time had passed, he raised his head as much as he could, reflecting wryly that his hands were going numb. She was struck by how irresistible he looked, his dark hair and eyes, chiseled face, and firm shapely lips each in turn calling for her attention as the firelight played off his features. He stared down at her, taking advantage of their proximity to study the bewitching eyes that had first captured his attention.
For awhile they remained locked together, simply savouring the nearness of the other. She had never lain so close to a man before and she found the experience exhilarating. Another session of impassioned expressions of affection followed, during which time Darcy inflicted the same gentle torture on all available flesh which he usually reserved for her hands. It was a revelation to discover how right it felt, how protected she felt with his arms around her, his weight offering an unprecedented feeling of security. It never crossed her mind that she was in the passive position, until she felt his body pressing harder against her own. She froze.
He had concerns of his own. "Perhaps we should continue this elsewhere? As much as I enjoy you next to me, I'm afraid my hands are losing all sensation."
"Oh! I am sorry!" She attempted to wriggle out from under him, but his weight had her pinned. He sucked in his breath, wondering if she knew what she was about. She did not. She was gazing up at him in obvious distress. "I cannot get free - I'm afraid you are too heavy, sir. Perhaps if we moved onto our sides?"
He nodded, apologizing for not realizing her intention sooner. With some difficulty they managed to move. Darcy's arms felt a rush of sensation as the blood started to flow in them once again. Now on their sides, there was still the problem of how to free her. He tried raising his arms, but she had somehow sneaked her own arms up around his neck during their amorous entanglement, and he in his present position could not lift his past them. "I think you are going to have to -"
"- Crawl, I agree." She then began to slide her way down his body while he raised his arms the little distance he could manage until she was clear of his embrace. He could not resist watching her descent. The next moment she fell to her knees and began working to free his hands. She bit her lip as she concentrated, feeling terribly guilty to know that he was suffering from her rash actions. "I am truly, truly sorry, Fitzwilliam."
"Just free them and all will be forgiven." He was too preoccupied with his situation to react to her use of his Christian name, though he thought it indicative of their relationship that she choose now of all times, as the first time to do so.
"I'm trying but -"
"- but what?"
She paused to brace herself before meeting his eyes. "I'm afraid I can't get the knot undone."
"What?"
"I shall fetch my scissors, wait here."
Darcy sighed his frustration and increasing sense of entrapment. Was this what he was to expect as just punishment for his calculated behaviour? It had not all been calculated. No, in fact, most of it had not been. From what he could tell, his efforts had pleased her too. Something had changed since their time together yesterday and today. She seemed perfectly prepared to accept his wooing as she called it, whereas formerly she would not. She returned quickly to cut him free, apologizing for ruining his necktie in the process. He reassured her and bore the slow process of his release from captivity with noble indifference, his mind more agreeably engaged.
* The sheet music sellers were usually very poor women. Pickpockets among them were common.
Chapter 24
At last he stood and faced her, holding out his hand. "Come."
She stared up at him, highly tempted to take his hand without question. No other words were forthcoming from him. She saw that he expected it to be as easy as that. He had, to be sure, done much to court her lately.
He saw her hesitation. He sat down beside her again and attempted to draw her into his embrace, deciding he would use his most persuasive arguments. Elizabeth had other ideas. She drew away from him.
And stared at him in question.
"What is it you are trying to ask me with your eyes, Elizabeth?"
"We have not even been married a week."
"True."
"I asked you to be patient, remember?"
"Have I not been?"
"Not always!"
He made a sound of frustration. "Are you saying that you regret what has happened between us?"
"No...not exactly."
"Not exactly!"
"It would be easy enough to be lovers without commitment. I see that. However, I am not certain that it is in my best interest to proceed in such a manner."
"I do not follow you at all, Elizabeth. We are lawfully married. What more of a commitment could you possibly require?"
"Mr. Darcy, I cannot believe that you fail to grasp my meaning! Friendship may be enough for a marriage of convenience such as we agreed to, but it is hardly enough -or the right emotion for lovers. You must see that!"
"I hope that we are friends, Elizabeth. I find I value your friendship more every day. I have also been honest with you all along that I craved more than friendship from you as well."
"I am speaking of an emotional commitment...of constancy. I have seen enough of men's behaviour to know that their passions fade quickly, and have little to do with lasting affection."
"I find your implication that I would use you and then discard you to be highly offensive, Mrs. Darcy."
"What else must I think when you state that you desire me but have not enough feeling for me to wait until I am ready to be your wife in truth?"
He could not deny that he had been self-interested, yet he had truly believed that he was acting in her best interest as well. "I have not coerced you. You seemed as willing to engage in intimate activities as I was."
"That is an unfair simplification! You have purposely sought me out on all occasions and..." She paused. It would have been false to say that he had initiated every such moment between them... "and played on my feelings for you."
"How can that be? You have made it abundantly clear on more than one occasion that you are not in love with me. How can it be that I am playing on feelings which you claim do not exist?"
"I was speaking of my feelings of...desire. I am willing to admit that we are equal in that regard."
Her profession of desire for him was not the answer to his clever wordplay that he had hoped to hear.
Rising quickly to her feet, she stunned them both with her sudden prim pronouncement. "It is getting very late, Mr. Darcy. I think it wise to bid you goodnight now." Without further explanation, she turned to hurry from the room.
For a moment he considered going after her, guessing that her urgency to leave was a measure of how vulnerable she felt. He stopped himself. Swallowing his acute disappointment, he remembered that there was more to be gained by patience. He would leave her to herself and wait until the morrow when the element of surprise would once again push her just that little bit further.
ELIZABETH managed to have a passable night's sleep, only to find herself awakened by degrees from the most delicious dream. The warmth of his hand on her arm, the strength of his arms as they drew her nearer to him, the tenderness with which he lifted her chin to make her meet his eyes, his forceful eyes, all weakened her hard-won resolve of a moment ago. His lips brushing gently against her own the next instant only confirmed her sense of joy and defeat. She stood there, frozen in indecision, but he coaxed her by degrees with tender kisses scattered across her cheek, her chin, her throat, before returning to her lips to exact more. She heard his breath, as fast and uneven as her own, felt his heart pounding against her own painfully beating one. Of their own volition, her arms came up around him, and she yielded at last to the pleasure of his mouth on hers....Jolted awake, she found herself not at all where she imagined. She was not standing in her favourite sitting room on Monday evening after having destroyed his necktie; he was not convincing her by degrees to stay with him rather than to leave. In fact, she found herself staring up at the canopy of her bed. A faint streak of early morning light made its way between the bed curtains, illuminating the features hovering so close to her own.
"Good morning."
She was too stunned to speak for a moment.
"I know how much you enjoy breakfast in bed." He was smiling rakishly at her, his dimples daring her to be cross at his presumption.
She found she could not be. With a sigh, she relaxed back against her pillow. "Did you bring chocolate?"
"Naturally. Though I hoped to tempt you with other decadences first."
She smiled back in exasperation. His persistence was highly impressive. She had to give him that. She ran her fingers through his hair possessively, and then turned her face fully to him to receive a kiss. No kiss was forthcoming. She opened her eyes again, raised her brows archly. "Well sir, am I to receive these promised decadences?"
"Indeed madam, I would not dream of depriving you." He set about to prove it. He was wearing only his nightclothes, unfastened enough to reveal more of his chest then she had ever seen before. She could not deny how impressive his body was. The material was thin enough that she could trace the well-defined contours of his arms, his back, and broad shoulders with less to impede her discoveries. Now, her senses were fully engaged by days and days of his attentive behaviour, a growing sense of familiarity and comfort, and the unmistakable excitement of being near him. Her natural curiosity began to overrule her caution. The scent of him alone was a heady pleasure; she had always been susceptible to him, and now she could bury her face against his chest and feel completely enveloped by him. His lips returned again and again to coax her response in a manner that rivaled her dreams. ...
He knew his triumph, knew that he had won the right of a lover. He kissed her more fiercely, his hands roaming over her, as he registered that her desperate act of fleeing the room last night had indeed been her last brave stand. He knew, as he felt her soft body against his own that the passion between them was only a taste of what would be. After several weeks of suspense, at last he would have the fulfillment of his most ardent wishes.
The sheer force of his presence could not sweep away her regret entirely. She clung to him but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she would regret this. Yet she was powerless to stop herself.
The powerful shock of the possible almost overwhelmed him as he savoured her capitulation. He could not completely reign in his emotions. ...Then, inconveniently, he saw the conflict in her face and realized that she had misgivings still. Though she could not resist him, she could not meet his eye. ...All at once his ambitions came to a crashing halt as he instinctively knew an unpleasant truth; she had not truly surrendered, not as he craved, not with her whole being. ...It was a subtle truth that would likely escape the perception of the insensitive. Certainly, it would escape the observation of an indifferent stranger, or someone too self-absorbed to care. He could see all too clearly only because he truly knew her, and only because his own being had called out for an equal response. In the space of that moment, it must be admitted that he warred with himself.
And then he let her go.
Chapter 25
He set it down before her, sat down on the bed himself, and handed her a cup. She drank her tea obediently, avoiding his eyes until she could collect herself. He waited until she placed her cup and saucer on the tray and looked at him through troubled eyes. He reached out to take her hand in his, all the while regarding her seriously. "We need to talk Elizabeth. You need to tell me what is distressing you so greatly that it infuses our most intimate encounters."
"As I said last night, Mr. Darcy, I am willing to admit that we are equally matched in our passion. The only difference is that you, being a typical man with nothing to lose, wish to act on those feelings. Whereas...I cannot without endangering my future welfare." Unaccountably, her eyes filled with tears.
He was torn between feeling insulted and terribly worried. Running his hand through his hair he realized that this was yet again far more complicated that he'd expected it to be. "Why is it that you assume it will be easier for me to consummate our marriage vows and then conveniently pretend it never happened? I am not the one fighting my feelings every step of the way. And I would ask that you not tell me it is because I am a typical man; that's a nonsensical, reductionist answer, not to mention that given what you mean by such a claim, it's a slur on my character."
She blushed at his frank speech about the most intimate act, and felt aggrieved to know she'd attacked him without meaning to do so. "I am sorry! No slur was intended...You must admit, women generally deal differently with these issues than men do."
"So I am discovering."
She bit her lip, feeling more than a little embarrassed even to be having such a conversation. "It is just that...I...do not wish to be bound in such a way. Not under the present circumstances. That could prove...disastrous in the long run." The tears that had only threatened previously gave way at last.
For a moment he was at a loss to understand what she was talking about. Disastrous in the long run? A threat to her future welfare? How could her future welfare be jeopardized? Did it signify nothing to her that they were married? He recalled their conversation from last night, going over her words in his mind. Then it occurred to him that he did know what she was talking about, and had known all along. Bound. Yes, she would be bound in a way she is not now. Several minutes passed and the silence was heavy with unspoken emotion. He was somewhat shaken to realize what had been the driving force behind his actions all along since their marriage. He ardently desired her, it was true. But equally compelling was his desire to bind her to him as he was already bound to her. Yes, he wanted her as captured by such intimacy as her nature, and his disposition as a lover, would demand.
In the space of that moment, he knew the truth, the overwhelming, painful, terrifying truth, and wondered why he'd been so dishonest with himself all along. To say he was in love with her did not do justice to his feelings. He loved her, he loved her within every fiber of his being, and God only knew how long that had been the case. Darcy could not say for certain when his calculated efforts to win her had become a heartfelt desire to win her love. All he knew was that his cleverness had backfired completely - perhaps because all along he really was a good sort of man, with only enough failings in the mix to make him interesting. Whatever the cause, the more he had courted his bride, the more his own feelings had grown - and the more he had been transformed by them.
For an instant, he wanted to shake her for her insensitive treatise on all men, he wanted to disabuse her of such insulting notions about him as a man. But the shattering realization that he loved her crowded out all other avenues of thought and emotion. He drew her to him, his chest twisting painfully at the sight of her distress and his own bitter predicament. When he spoke, his voice held none of its usual challenge but had become tender with his concern. She clung to him gratefully.
"Dearest Elizabeth, why these tears?" Dearest, dearest Elizabeth, have you no idea of what you have come to mean to me? He wanted to reassure her, he wanted to proclaim himself, to share his revelation; but he was not ready to be that vulnerable, to declare his love. Had she not denied caring for him? She had confessed that she desired him, but had nothing more to add! Stung as he was by her dissatisfactory reply both last night and now, the idea that she may be guarding her heart exactly because she was falling in love with him was entertained for a hopeful moment and then as quickly dismissed. He would not forget that only a fortnight and a day had passed since she had rushed from her father's library upon consenting to marry him. The image was as clear in his mind now as then. If he were to depend on the memory of those happiest moments between them, he would be forced to very different conclusions. Unfortunately, he was not in the habit of depending on intangibles. As a rational man, he simply doubted she could so easily and quickly come to love him, given her previous feelings. She had her own complex reasons for continuing to refuse him - she had made that very clear - and they seemed to center around her lingering doubts and distrust in his character.
He hoped that her recent warmth meant that she could love him some day. ...No, he could not do it. He could not confess his feelings. He could not give her that power over him. As shaken as he was by his own internal drama, he resisted the urge to pull away from her, to seek the distance that the core of him demanded...he simply could not leave her when she needed him. Here is all the proof I need that I have been completely unarmed by my own strategies. Putting the other first at great personal sacrifice makes it official that I'm lost. He repressed the sudden urge to laugh uncontrollably at the sheer painful irony of it all.
Elizabeth found herself at a loss to understand her own reactions. It was all so maddening! She was not given to fits of tears or sudden devastating moods. She was a stable person normally...but days and days in his company had worn down her emotions until they were too raw and exposed to ignore. With his arms tenderly about her, his lips planting gentle kisses against her temple to reassure her, she knew that she no longer had the strength to fight feelings far more devastating than desire. Such a realization evoked a more violent storm of tears. He could do nothing but hold her and wait for the storm to pass.
She wanted to know she was valued by him, he saw that clearly enough. He supposed that was to be expected before a young and inexperienced woman would agree to such intimacy as he had pursued. Yet, given her own reluctant feelings, she could not be so unreasonable as to expect a declaration of love when she did not love him? He knew she was far too fair for that...no, he could not declare himself...he could...he could not...
...he could, however, give her comfort by conveying some small part of his feelings. Her mood quieter, he took the opportunity to say what he dared risk saying. "You must not think that my feelings for you can so easily be categorized, Elizabeth. I feel both friendship and desire, you're right about that. I also happen to admire you more than any other woman of my acquaintance. I respect your lively mind, I delight in your aliveness, I value your keen judgement and your integrity, I count you a worthy opponent - and I care ? I care a great deal for your welfare and promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy. Is this not a solid enough foundation to reassure you of my constancy?"
"You don't understand! Once upon a time my father was captivated by my mother. And look how that turned out! It was mostly his imagination - the woman he married turned out to be nothing like the woman he had dreamed up for himself. They have each, in their own way, suffered for that...there must have been a time when my mother was more than she is now. ...Do not mistake me, I do not blame my father for his later indifference - it is a grievous fact that they cannot escape each other - but I must fault him for his unnecessary unkindness and breach of respect. It is not her fault that his feelings could not last. It is not her fault that he was captivated by youth and beauty and showed a complete lack of sense in marrying someone so little suited to him. His was the greater mind. If he had really cared, he would have taken the trouble to help enlarge her mind when she was still young enough for his efforts to be of some benefit - I know, you likely doubt the possibility of that! Yet there was a time when she was young and merry and her spirits must have been exuberant. She is not all annoying affectations.
"Neither she nor her sister had the opportunities of their much younger brother, and you see what a difference those opportunities have made! Really, though we may fault her for her embarrassingly transparent ambition to get all her daughters married off, we none of us have another solution to the problem of impending genteel poverty for those who do not marry...what am I trying to say?" Here tears once again threatened, causing her to remain silent for several moments. It was just as well, for Darcy was busy trying to make sense of this complicated and somewhat digressive explanation of her present distress.
She was, he realized, speaking with all her heart on a subject that must have haunted her for some time. She was confessing, her words pouring forth after too long a silence. There seemed nothing to do but to wait, and hope that by bringing such fears into the light of day they could address them.
"What I am trying to say," she continued with calmer conviction, "is that our own situation is far more dubious. We did not have a proper courtship. We have not spent months together in each other's company before happily agreeing to marry. I did not even like you until a fortnight ago. And you...would have been content with other arrangements if they had been possible. There is really not much here to trust in at all."
"On the surface I can see why you would think so. However, you have not allowed at all for the power of the honesty that marks our exchanges, or the development of our feelings, or the fact that we are a good influence on one another. Your father's feelings changed for the worse over the passage of time, mine have changed for the better. Your mother may have been...more, at one time. It saddens me to say that is probable. Yet, she could never have been as much as you are. For you have risen above these family circumstances in a way she could not."
"I had the influence of my aunt and uncle, as well as my father's willingness to teach those of us who cared to learn."
Darcy wisely did not correct her perception, though he heard the unspoken neglect of her parents in her words. Children, he knew, should not be left to decide for themselves such important choices as whether or not to expand their minds and characters. His own childhood had been a happy productive one, though somewhat spoilt. It had been rich with opportunities, support, and the safety that reliable, consistent parents bring. He thought it was again a remarkable instance of Elizabeth's natural superiority of both insight and character, that she would seek what opportunities she could and find a way to raise herself so impressively.
Her voice recalled his attentions from his silent musings. "As for a woman's lot, I fear that there are many women, unhappily married, who dwindle by degrees because of their circumstances. None of us are immune."
"I will offer no argument against your claims. It is clear that women suffer far too often for those very reasons. Though unhappily married men suffer in their own way too, I recognize the differences inherent in their situations. As you know, I would do anything in my power to protect my sister from such a fate, and neither would I wish to make you, my own wife, unhappy. ...Regardless Elizabeth, there is no disputing your natural quickness, or your perceptiveness, maturity and judgement. I have not invented these qualities which you possess, the acquired ones to a stunning degree in a person so young. Here you must give me credit as a man of the world who has dealt with many, many different people over the years. Unless of course, I have misinterpreted, and you are actually trying to tell me that you suspect yourself captivated by a false impression, and expect to shortly discover I am not as I seem."
She could not help but smile at such a ridiculous idea. "I think you are exactly as a gentleman ought to be" she regarded him archly, her spirits rising again, "most of the time."
"Thank you, I will take such flattery to heart."
She breathed a sigh of relief at having got so much off her chest. "I suppose in the light of close scrutiny, my fears seem ridiculous to you?"
"Nay, Elizabeth. We all of us have our own particular fears which others can easily declare irrational."
"It is not that I think you will be a husband like my father is. To be certain, when I first met you, I suppose your manner, so disdainful, had at its core a critical attitude, an indifference, not unlike my father's - though he tends to express it by making lively sport of others. Even here I have been very wrong. Though it is disloyal of me as his daughter to say it, particularly since he has always been so kind and fond of me...but I must say it. You are a better man than my father. You have not his inclination to play to his worst faults. You are capable of change and have changed already, though I know I also misjudged you in the beginning."
Darcy remained silent, feeling guilty for having been so calculating that very morning. At last they had said all that could be said at that moment and parted. Each had much to think about, and neither one was certain or confident about what to hope for next.
** http://hal.ucr.edu/~cathy/wrap/wraps.html Cloaks, Capes, Pelisses and Spencers: Outerwear for Regency Ladies Kathy Hammel.
2 [online site: The Food Timeline/FAQS/Napoleons/]
3 A reference to Napoleon imposing tighter restrictions once again on English colonial exports to continental Europe.
4 A reference to the three years of bad harvests.
5 I couldn't resist.
** Billingsgate Wharf was the oldest market in London at the time, and famous for its bad language.
*** All quotes from Jane Austen's Love and Freindship. Yes, friendship really is spelled that way in the original.
© 2001, 2002, 2003 Copyright held by the author.