Beginning, Next Section
Posted on Monday, 17 April 2006
“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
His words were still pounding in her head. She couldn’t believe it. This man, whom she believed to despise her, had just opened his heart to her. Her astonishment increased, mingled with exasperation and resentment, as she heard him describing his inner turmoil. His objections towards her family… How dare he insult her in such a manner?
“I must beg you to consent to be my wife”, he concluded sighing deeply.
Raising her eyes to him she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He had spoken of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security. This could only exasperate her farther, and when he ceased, the colour rose into her cheeks, and she started coolly,
“In such cases as this, it is, I believe, …”
Elizabeth stopped as she heard a loud commotion in the hall and before she could say anything, Mr Collins burst into the drawing room. He was obviously upset and unable to realize that Elizabeth had a visitor with her. He shouted nervously,
“My dear cousin, my poor cousin… I’ve just received the most dreadful news… from Longbourn!”
Somehow Mr Collins acknowledged Darcy’s presence and bowed mellifluously towards him.
“Sir, it is an honour to have you in my humble abode…”
Elizabeth tried to capture his attention in vain… She wanted to know what happened… But he ignored her and carried on talking to Darcy.
“Have you heard the news already, Mr Darcy? You must have, and you give us great honour by coming here to condole with us…”
Elizabeth gasped and paled. Trembling she whispered…
“What happened Mr Collins, I beg you to tell me this instant.”
He still ignored her and rambled on about the honour of having Lady Catherine’s nephew’s presence at such a dark moment. Darcy, clearly impatient with the never-ending nonsensical babbling, curtly shouted “Get on with it, man! What is the matter? Can’t you see you are upsetting Miss Elizabeth?”
“Well, if you insist upon it, my fair cousin, I will tell you that my dear cousin, Mr Bennet, was killed in a carriage accident this morning.” Thus stated, he sat in a chair with a grin of self-satisfaction.
A horrified gasp was heard. Darcy looked quickly at its source and observed Elizabeth growing frightfully pale. Her lips lost their lively cherry colour. They were in a tight white line. Her eyes closed and her body was shivering violently. Darcy instantly recalled that she was her father’s favourite daughter and, having still fresh in his mind all the pain he had suffered after losing both his parents, he understood what she was feeling. Yet, he was unable to help her… How he wished to spare her from all the pain…
“Mr Collins, how dare you be so cruel and insensitive! This is no way of breaking these dreadful news to Miss Bennet!” Darcy angrily scolded the parson as he approached Elizabeth. Reaching out his hand towards hers, Darcy was surprised to feel her skin very cold. He heard a sob of deep misery before she collapsed at his feet.
“Well, this is certainly most inconvenient, my dear cousin…”
But the parson was silenced by Darcy’s murderous glance. Kneeling down, he scooped Elizabeth tenderly into his arms. Glancing at the doorway, he saw Charlotte standing there. She looked pale and very worried about her friend. She had obviously witnessed the latest events in her parlour. Breaking the silence, as she regained her composure, she directed Mr Darcy to follow her to carry Elizabeth to her room.
“Mr Darcy, I must protest! cried Collins “This is highly improper! I must not allow this behaviour. What will her ladyship say when she learns that you, a single man, carried my unfortunate cousin to her room?”
Stopping in the middle of the hall, glancing back at him, Darcy pierced Collins with a cold stare and snapped “Miss Bennet is not unconnected to me. She is to become my wife. We have become engaged this evening. Therefore, I don’t deem this as being improper!”
The Collins gasped in surprise. Collins retreated hastily into the parlour as Charlotte guided Darcy towards Elizabeth’s room. Whispering an apology for her husband’s behaviour, Charlotte opened the door to her friend’s room and rushed downstairs to summon a maid’s assistance.
Before depositing her on the bed, Darcy lingered for a few moments to enjoy the sweet luxury of having Elizabeth’s soft body in his arms. He held her tightly against his chest as he grazed his lips through her lavender-scented curls. Her hair was so silky... so soft… How he loved her dearly…
Gently, lovingly, Darcy laid Elizabeth on her bed. He couldn’t resist her nearness so he stroked her cold pale face with his fingers. He sat on the bed and enveloped her with a tender glance. She was so lovely… Her skin was smooth and silky and her dark curls menaced to tumble over her pillow midst her fragrance of lavender. She was so lovely… He found himself leaning over her, sensing her supple body… He couldn’t resist temptation. He grazed his lips on her forehead and her eyes when, suddenly, he felt her stirring.
Standing abruptly, Darcy called for Charlotte to attend to her awakening friend.
Elizabeth slowly blinked as she tried to recognize where she was and sat up quickly in astonishment when her eyes captured Darcy’s.
“Sir, what are you…” She started when she suddenly recalled the horrible news that her cousin so unfeelingly had disclosed. Her paleness increased and a wave of panic overwhelmed her. She started sobbing and murmuring “Papa” repeatedly. Her despair was such that she couldn’t say anything.
Darcy observed her as grief took over his beloved and he felt utterly helpless. He wanted to hold her and enfold her with his love, shielding her from all her suffering. But he couldn’t. The least he could do was hold her hand. And that he was determined to do. Approaching softly the bed where his Elizabeth was sobbing miserably, Darcy sat on the edge and grasped gently her hand and enveloped it safely between his.
“Elizabeth, please try to calm yourself… Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll make all the necessary arrangements for your journey back to Longbourn. I assure you that we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
Elizabeth didn’t fully grasp what he was telling her. Her grief and the unfamiliar warmth she was feeling on her hand left her too uncomfortable and too overwhelmed to utter anything. The gentle but passionate kiss bestowed on her hand left her astonished but warm. Charlotte encircled her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.
Darcy stood and after memorizing her beloved face for a few moments he left them after informing the lady of the house that he would be at the parsonage early in the morning.
Hours later, whilst tossing around in her bed, Elizabeth, unable to sleep, realized that she hadn’t given Darcy an answer to his proposal. She would have to refuse him in the morning before leaving Hunsford. It seemed he assumed that there was an arrangement between them. She couldn’t allow this misunderstanding to go on.
She was confused as she recalled his loathsome proposal and his gentle manner after hearing about her beloved father’s death. She had felt warm with his touch and his gaze was so deep… He really seemed to love her… But how could she accept such a man… He who has the cause of her sister’s broken heart and Mr Wickham’s misfortune…
Yet, she had felt so… cherished?
No, she must refuse him. She had to tell him something before she left.
Posted on Wednesday, 19 April 2006
Despite her grief, she thought she should have some breakfast. So she approached the dining-room. Mr Collins and Charlotte were already partaking of their meal when she entered the room. After murmured “good mornings”, silence fell upon them. Mr Collins glanced nervously at her several times but didn’t say a word. His countenance seemed to reflect his disapproval at Elizabeth. She couldn’t understand why… after all, she was keeping her loss in a discreet manner…
Elizabeth served herself with some tea and a toast, trying to eat something. She quietly enquired her cousin about the travelling arrangements.
“Well, my dear, dear cousin, we shall depart as soon as we finish breakfast. My modest equipage will take us to the post at Bromley. My dear Charlotte and I will be accompanying you.”
Elizabeth whispered her heartfelt thank you but the parson kept on rambling…
“… Mr Darcy said he would send his carriage but that would certainly be most improper… he is after all engaged to that pearl, Miss De Bourgh… Certainly he will submit to his aunt’s will.. It will not do, my poor cousin, to aspire to such a match… And most definitely not now… “
Elizabeth could hardly grasp his babbling due to her distress but his last words had caught her attention.
“… you have no dowry, no connections and no estate… And now Longbourn is finally mine. Lady Catherine has been quite adamant that I must take hold of Longbourn immediately!”
While Mr Collins babbled on and on, Elizabeth grew paler and indignant. What has he said? She glanced at Charlotte who looked away mortified. Then it was true?
“Take hold of Longbourn, sir? What do you mean?” she managed to enquire shaking.
“Why, my dear poor cousin… the entailment… You certainly know that Longbourn is entailed to the male line. Therefore, it is mine now… And as Lady Catherine has wisely determined, there is not an instant to be delayed… If you had not refused… But on this matter it is better to be silent…”
Charlotte winced at his words and couldn’t bear to look at her friend. Elizabeth stood up and holding herself to the table cried out in a rage,
“How dare you, Mr Collins? My father has just died! Are you turning us out?” Tears streaked her pale cheeks. “You… you have no heart… How can you?”
“My dear, you must understand… it is my duty, my right. As the noble Lady Catherine has said… I must claim my inheritance now…”
In her distress, Elizabeth hadn’t noticed that Darcy was in the doorway where he had listened to most of this indignant exchange. He couldn’t believe the insensitivity of his Aunt’s advice and the abominable readiness that the parson revealed in his desire to hastily claim his inheritance. That would certainly leave his beloved Elizabeth’s family destitute. And that would please his Aunt. Lady Catherine had already been informed, by her dutiful parson, of Darcy’s engagement. Her fury was lashed at him at the early hours of dawn. She berated him for betraying his family, her dearest wishes and his intended, Anne. She cursed Elizabeth for her arts and allurements and even accused her of using her father’s demise to trap Darcy into marriage. Disgusted by his Aunt’s obnoxious behaviour, Darcy quickly summoned Colonel Fitzwilliam so that they would leave Rosings as quickly as possible.
He couldn’t bear looking at Elizabeth’s misery and as she collapsed in her chair, sobbing convulsively, he raised his voice and addressed the odious parson:
“Mr Collins that is enough! Have you no sense at all? I will not allow you to distress my fiancée any longer!”
As she heard the word “fiancée”, Elizabeth started and realised that she hadn’t refused him yet. She could no longer let him believe she had accepted him.
“Mr Darcy… you cannot be engaged to her. What of Miss De Bourgh? Lady Catherine will be seriously displeased… you will dishonour your family by connecting yourself with such a woman, such a family who has no place to live...” he sneered satisfied.
As Darcy harshly replied at Collins, Elizabeth’s mind was in a blur… She must refuse him yet, what would happen to her and her family? Certainly the Gardiners would help them… But… a sudden moment of clarity, or lunacy Elizabeth mused, crossed her mind: would it be prudent to refuse Mr Darcy? She had already shown great sense in refusing that obnoxious cousin of hers… Then she recalled her feelings of the night before… She had felt so… cherished, hadn’t she?…
Raising her tearful face towards Darcy she was caught by his deep gaze… For her family, she thought. I must accept him, for my family. He seemed to have assumed her acceptance. Should she allow him to continue with this misconception? I had vowed to marry only for the deepest love… and now I marry for deepest despair…
Could she live with him? Could she truly live with such a man? A man who ruined her sister’s chance of happiness and Mr Wickham’s future? What of her pledge for marrying for love? Should she deny her principles? For her family? For her sake?
As her turmoil crossed her mind, her conflicting thoughts reflected upon her countenance and she frowned her brow nervously. Darcy, attuned to her expressions, quickly perceived that something was amiss. He swiftly approached her and touched her hand very gently.
“Elizabeth, are you unwell?” he whispered looking intently into her brown teary eyes, stroking lovingly her hand.
Elizabeth felt that she was losing herself as she looked into his deep dark eyes. There was something about his gaze that she couldn’t fully understand. She felt drawn into them and that frightened her. Confused, she withdrew her hand from his and whispered that she wanted to leave as soon as possible.
“Certainly, I’ll take you to Longbourn myself.” As he helped her leave the dining-room he explained briefly about the necessary travelling arrangements and that he would personally take care of anything at Longbourn to help her and her family. “They are my responsibility now, my love. Fear not for your family. I’ll deal with Mr Collins.”
“Thank you” she whispered trembling. She wondered how this man could be so hateful and caring at the same time. What sort of man am I marrying? In response to his warm gaze, she boldly reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, kind sir,” she whispered amazed at her own impulsive gesture.
The journey and her arrival at Longbourn seemed like a blur to Elizabeth. Her father, whom she loved so dearly, was the most important person in her life besides Jane. She felt lost as she sobbed quietly during their journey. To her distress she felt Darcy’s constant and intense gaze upon her all the way, even as he conversed with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.
She allowed Darcy to hold her hands tightly, drawing gentle circles on her palms, in an attempt to soothe her anguish. Strangely, Elizabeth felt a warm calmness descend upon her as she allowed his caresses and attentions upon her. This only added to her confusion as far as her emotions towards this man were concerned. It seemed that her heart was telling her to trust this man… but her mind kept warning her about what the misery he brought to other people…
Once at Longbourn, the family’s distress could be heard from the entrance of the estate. Her mother wailed loudly in her room and once she learned about Elizabeth’s arrival she started berating her loudly about her refusal of Mr Collins’s proposal. Darcy started at this piece of information and took in Elizabeth’s distress and shame of her mother.
Mrs Bennet wailed on about how that odious Mr Collins would turn them out of Longbourn and how Elizabeth was such an ungrateful daughter who didn’t do her duty to her family and secure the heir to Longbourn.
Darcy asked Elizabeth to allow him to talk to her mother about their engagement so that he could take charge of the necessary arrangements for her family and her father’s funeral.
“You must get some rest, my love. I’ll let you know what your mother has decided after having talked to her.”
Elizabeth looked at him wondering, once again, how such a man could be so caring with her. She nodded her agreement, giving in to her weariness, and started ascending to her room after instructing Mrs Hill to take Darcy to her mother.
Two hours later, Elizabeth woke up and felt an odd feeling about the silence the house seemed to be involved in. Her mother’s wailings had stopped and her younger sisters’ as well. Jane was quietly sitting in her room waiting for Lizzy to wake up.
“Oh, Jane… How are you my dearest?” Elizabeth whispered.
“Lizzy… how I’ve missed you… Thank G-d you’re back. And what of Mr Darcy? Is it true that you’re engaged? I thought you didn’t even like him!”
“Jane, dear Jane… so much has happened… But it is true. I’m engaged to Mr Darcy. He proposed to me just before I learned about Papa… Oh Jane, how I shall miss our father…”
The sisters embraced, holding on to each other in hope of acquitting some of the pain from their loss. A few moments later, Jane managed to inform her sister that the Gardiners had arrived and that both her aunt and uncle had been conversing with Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth was slowly becoming a bit annoyed at Darcy’s private talks with first her mother and now the Gardiners. What could they be talking about? Their engagement? Was he determining already her future? Making decisions without consulting her? Her distress grew as these thoughts rushed through her mind.
Jane and Elizabeth rushed downstairs into the drawing-room where they found the three in deep conversation over some tea. As they ladies entered, the gentlemen stood up and Darcy’s gaze was fixed intently on Elizabeth, assessing her state of mind. She lovingly embraced her aunt and uncle and whispered her gratitude for their presence and support in such a moment of pain. Turning to her fiancé, she raised her eyes and coolly stated,
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to properly introduce you to my dear Aunt and Uncle from Cheapside, sir…”
She regretted her tone the instant she spoke. She shyly looked at him and winced when she realized he was displeased. He frowned at her, wondering what she meant. Certainly her relatives were far above from what he had expected. But even if they weren’t, did she believe he wouldn’t acknowledge them? For her sake, he would have put up with much worse!
He decided that he had been there for too long. The family needed privacy to mourn their loss. After excusing himself from the Gardiners and the elder Miss Bennet, he requested his intended’s company to the door.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered as he grabbed her arm with one hand and let the other touch her face. “You must be tired of all this… I’ll be spending the night at the inn. Your Uncle and I have already taken care of all the arrangements regarding Mr Bennet’s funeral. He’ll give you the details.”
She gasped softly as he mentioned the funeral and closed her eyes. It was too painful to hear that word. Understanding her distress, Darcy pulled her towards him in a loving embrace. She stiffened at the novelty but quickly surrendered to the warmth that enveloped her. How she wished to forget her sorrow, her family’s misfortune and her sad engagement… Could she allow herself to give in to this man?
Before she could protest, she felt his hot lips grazing hers so softly she could barely feel them. She opened wide her eyes and backed away from his boldness.
“Mr Darcy! Wh-wh…”
“Good night, my love” he whispered in her ear and dashed through the door without looking back.
“Insufferable man, how dare he!” she seethed stomping her foot in indignation. And she marched up to her room letting her emotions flow as she collapsed sobbing in her bed.
After her father’s funeral, Darcy informed Elizabeth he would be back in three weeks for their wedding. The usual arrangements had to be taken care of in London. As for the wedding preparations, there weren’t many to be taken care of as it would be a very subdued affair due to their mourning. Very few family members would be attending as her recent loss wouldn’t allow a proper event.
She would have preferred a longer engagement, as propriety dictated it, but her circumstances wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t wait until the mourning was over. Her family owed a great debt of gratitude to her fiancé.
That dreadful cousin of hers continued announcing to all who listened to him that he demanded to take hold of Longbourn after the funeral of the late Mr Bennet. Even her Uncle Gardiner seemed to bear no positive influence on the man. Mr Darcy, on the other hand, had somehow persuaded him that he should wait to give the family time to establish themselves elsewhere. Even risking Lady Catherine’s displeasure once she learned about this, Collins had agreed to let the ladies reside at Longbourn until Darcy’s wedding. Elizabeth’s mother and sisters would be moving the following day to their new home: Netherfield.
Elizabeth was amazed at the generosity shown by Darcy. Even though the property was about to become his, he had told her mother and uncle that he would draw up a contract with his lawyer to secure the Bennet ladies as tenants at Netherfield until their marriage or death. However, this arrangement upset Elizabeth thoroughly… On one hand, she felt as if she was part of this “bargain”; she kept telling herself that she was the one who was selling herself and that Darcy hadn’t a clue about it. On the other hand, it signified that Jane’s Mr Bingley would not be taking residence in Hertfordshire any more… Hopefully, he would come to their wedding and Jane being her maid of honour would be reacquainted with Bingley as the groom’s best man.
In a month she would become Mrs Darcy. A short engagement would be for the best. Elizabeth knew the more they lingered on, the more nervous she would feel about this arrangement. She felt trapped and that made her grow resentful… It wouldn’t do to go to her groom loathing him… His presumptuous manners exasperated her. He took into his own hands her own fate as well as her family’s. She knew he was being extremely generous… but she couldn’t stop herself from falling into a pit of self-pity and self-righteousness.
One beautiful morning, Elizabeth was strolling in the garden lost in her thoughts. How she missed her dear father… She felt lost, utterly hopeless. She had never been able to rely on anyone. Not even her father. She had always been a strong-willed independent young woman. Yet, her father had always been there and he truly understood her. She knew that if she needed him, he would not fail her. She believed she could count on him.
But now he was gone. Her family was distressed with the loss of their beloved father, though Lydia never seemed to feel anything but her perpetual silliness.
Jane was as miserable as well. But Elizabeth suspected that her gloom had more to do with a certain absent blond gentleman. Mr Bingley had not come to the funeral. And Jane’s heart was utterly broken… Elizabeth kept telling herself that Darcy must have been responsible for this absence. Certainly he hadn't informed his friend. Now Jane was the object of Meryton’s gossip… his absence at the funeral and the sale of Netherfield to Darcy signified to all he wasn’t coming back…
Oh, insufferable, insufferable man! She stomped and stomped her foot in absolute annoyance. Her impending nuptials now flooded to her mind and she sighed miserably…
She was so lost she hadn’t heard a voice calling out her name nor the footsteps approaching. A strong hand touched her shoulder and, turning around abruptly, she flushed violently as she gazed into his eyes.
“Mr Wickham!”
“Mr Wickham!” she mumbled nervously.
“Miss Bennet, it is always a pleasure seeing… Even under theses trying circumstances… Allow me to convey my deepest sympathy for your loss. I wish I could have been to the funeral to pay your dear father and family my respects.”
“I thank you, Mr Wickham. It has been very hard indeed,” tears welled up in her dark eyes. “But we must endure it as we can…”
“I would have been there for you, my dear Miss Elizabeth, but, as you know, a certain gentleman’s presence… unpleasant scenes might have arisen…”
Elizabeth gasped and turned her face away. They remained silent for some time and resumed walking around the garden.
“Miss Bennet, I understand that, despite your misfortune, congratulations are in order… May I say… I… I must confess I’m quite surprised about your engagement…”
“Why, Mr Wickham?” she curtly asked.
“Well, I know you despise him as well as I do… But I do understand why you’re doing it. After all it isn’t every day one gains a large estate as Netherfield… and a 10 thousand pound husband!” he remarked cynically.
“Mr Wickham, you must not…” she flashed at him indignantly.
Wickham stopped and interrupted her swiftly. “Pray tell me, Miss Elizabeth, will you miss me?” he whispered softly into her ear.
“How dare you, Mr Wickham! You must not speak to me as thus!” she backed away from him.
“Why not? You must know how I feel… If only Darcy had respected his father’s wishes… I could be the one… the one to offer for you and help your dear family.” He grasped her hands and pulled her slowly closer to him.
“Mr Wickham…” she trembled as he kissed her hands.
“But we do know where your heart is inclined to, don’t we, my sweet Elizabeth?”
“Stop! Please, Mr Wickham!” she yanked her hands from his strong hold. She felt awkward about his touch. “I’m engaged to Mr Darcy! Please leave!” She retreated quickly towards the house but not before feeling his kisses on her hands again.
“I’ll be back, dearest.” He sniggered to her back as she closed the door. “I promise you…”
Posted on Saturday, 22 April 2006
In Elizabeth’s mind the time between her father’s funeral and her impending nuptials flew away swiftly. She dreaded her wedding day, May 10, and soon it was upon her. Darcy, on the other hand, believed that the calendar pages were taking too long to reach that date. He was eager to have Elizabeth as his wife and, though he was grateful that she didn’t demand to wait till the customary mourning period was over, he was too impatient.
Thus, when the time to travel to Longbourn arrived, Darcy left as fast as he could, anticipating the pleasure he would feel upon being with his bride. In two days’ time she will be my wife, he thought as his carriage rolled its way from London towards Hertfordshire. He smiled softly as he recalled the little tender gifts he sent to his Elizabeth and the notes he believed would compensate her of his absence… a delicate flask of perfume, a pair of silk gloves, books to further the accomplishment of her mind… Yes, Elizabeth would be an exquisite wife, lively and intelligent. But when he thought of her family, his teeth cringed tightly.
Dealing with Collins had been the highlight of all the absurdities Darcy had seen in his eight and twenty years. The man was so adamant about obeying Lady Catherine’s wish of taking hold of Longbourn that Darcy had to bribe him into accepting a slight waiting period. The man would definitely be scared out of his wits if he didn’t please his noble patroness. Thus, he obliged Darcy in conceding a month to the Bennet ladies to move out. In exchange, Darcy would pay him a thousand pounds to “compensate” him for his “distress”.
This situation would obviously bring the Bennets the problem of finding suitable lodging and livelihood. Darcy recalled his conversation with Mr Gardiner and his mother-in-law to be. The gentleman had once again surprised him with his civility and propriety in manners and address as well as his intelligence. But Mrs Bennet… she had wailed and wailed about what would become of them if her brother or son-in-law wouldn’t take them in. He closed his eyes as his head started pounding at the mere thought of her squeals! She had hinted, practically stated, that they should all move to Pemberley. The idea disgusted him immediately! He had to remove his Elizabeth from this family and as far away as possible!
Luckily, Darcy had recalled that Netherfield could be a good investment for him as well as a good way of ensuring that Bingley wouldn’t be tempted in coming back to Hertfordshire and into the claws of Mrs Bennet. Therefore, he explained to Mr Gardiner and his sister that he was thinking of buying Netherfield, which would be under the care of his own steward, and the Bennet ladies would be tenants for life or until they all married.
Mrs Bennet, at first worried about Mr Bingley not coming back. I was right, all along. She is as mercenary as I thought! He recalled disgusted. But when she acknowledged the improvement of her establishment she forgot about her widowed conditioned and wailed and wailed about the riches of Netherfield!
However, Darcy’s biggest problem had been facing Bingley. A stern look spread over his face, as Darcy recalled meeting with his friend. He abhorred deceit and lies. It had been a difficult struggle for him to conceal all his dealings from Bingley. He managed to convince him that there was an eager buyer for the estate and that quitting Netherfield was the best he could do. As Bingley had never been interested in dealing with paperwork and transactions, he willing accepted Darcy’s offer of his own solicitor to take relinquish his lease on the property. He even accepted Caroline’s suggestion of visiting their relatives in Scarborough for a few weeks in an attempt to get further away from his feelings towards Miss Bennet. Darcy could not erase from his memory his friend’s dejected expression, but it would all be for the best, he kept reminding himself.
Thus, it had been imperative to conceal his wedding from the Bingleys as well. He knew his friend would be very upset but that was a situation that he would have to deal with later on. For now, Darcy had to concentrate on the final arrangements to establish the Bennet women in Netherfield and find a suitable steward in order to make it a profitable and well-managed estate. His new family, though disgraceful, would need a steady income and a proper household. After all, now they would be connected to him, to the Darcys.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes opening his mind to the sweetness of his bride’s figure… Ah, Elizabeth… Soon we will be united and far from Hertfordshire! Soon you’ll be mine, mine alone! He sighed contentedly with a grin of pleased satisfaction.
As it was customary to Elizabeth she sought the comfort and quiet of Longbourn’s garden to escape from her overbearing mother. She was sitting on the bench holding her fiancé’s latest gift, looking at it puzzled. How can he be so thoughtful? She kept asking herself for the past weeks. She recalled his tender gestures towards her and his generosity over and over again. It bewildered her as she kept comparing this kind man to the odious one she knew in the past. Who was he?
Elizabeth knew she needed to reach a compromise towards Darcy if she were to live a comfortable life with her husband. She had resolved keeping her hatred to herself and put away what he had done to Wickham and Jane in the back of her mind. But how could she when she looked at Jane’s growing depression? It was an ongoing reminder of his hateful actions.
Sighing deeply, she opened the book. It was a precious edition of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Inside, he had scribbled, in his strong and elegant hand,
To my dearest loveliest Elizabeth,
I hope the bard’s words will give you as much pleasure as I derive from the beauty of your eyes. Please read my favourite, sonnet XVII.
From your Fitzwilliam
She gasped and trembling she turned the pages till she found the sonnet he had singled out. The page was marked with a lovely silk bookmark embroidered in gold thread with her soon-to-be new initials: ED. Elizabeth closed her eyes momentarily while she caressed the precious bookmark with her fingertips. “He can be so attentive” she whispered. Then, she focused on the sonnet and the fluttering she felt inside her increased as she read, letting Darcy’s meaning of his choice sink into her, overwhelming her more and more:
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill’d with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say, ‘This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne’er touch’d earthly faces.’
So should my papers, yellow’d with their age,
Be scorn’d, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term’d a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice,—in it and in my rime.
So enraptured was she in his gift that Elizabeth hadn’t heard Wickham’s approach. He gently laid his hand on her shoulder startling her from her reverie. She jumped and gasped as she realised who was before her.
“Mr Wickham! What are you doing here?”
“Miss Bennet, I’m sorry if I frightened you… It was not my intention, I assure you. Your sisters, Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty have invited me and Denny for tea. I hope you’ll not object to my presence…” he inquired uncertainly.
“Oh, no, no…” she replied nervously and clutching Darcy’s book to her chest.
“I must say that I accepted the offer because I wanted to see you again.” Wickham waited a few minutes for her reply. But Elizabeth kept silent. He ventured anew,
“I wanted to apologize, Miss Elizabeth. Our last meeting… I fear I was carried away by my feelings. I shouldn’t have spoken as I had. Will you forgive me?”
She lifted her eyes to his and replied softly “That is quite all right, Mr Wickham.”
“I hope we can still be friends. I would not like to part from you on bad terms… Though I suspect we will never see each other again…” He poised nervously.
“Why?” she inquired surprised at his words. She frowned as she repeated “Why do you say that Mr Wickham?”
“Well, I fear… I believe Darcy will never allow his wife to speak to me. Thus, I fear this shall be our last meeting.”
Elizabeth looked at him intrigued. Could it be possible that Darcy would be controlling who she would associate herself with? Did she want to continue her friendship with Wickham? Even if he was her husband’s biggest enemy? Once more, she felt the fleeting sensation of losing control over her life. And that annoyed her.
“Mr Wickham, I assure…”
“Miss Elizabeth, I understand.” He interrupted her. He extended his hand and held her empty hand tightly. “I assure you I will keep our acquaintance as the sweetest memory… I hope you will remember me, sweet Elizabeth…” And he kissed her hand softly. Disturbed, she tried to release it from his grasp.
“Wickham!”
Elizabeth startled mortified. He is back! And he saw me with him! She paced backwards uncomfortable about the situation she was in. She glanced at Darcy who glared murderously towards Wickham.
“What are you doing here, Wickham?” he questioned him with ill-controlled rage.
Sniggering, Wickham bowed to Elizabeth with a nervous grin plastered on his face and then turned to Darcy and snorted,
“May I give you my sincere congratulations on your engagement, Darcy? You are a fortunate man, if I may say so… Miss Elizabeth is certainly an exquisite delectable…”
“Wickham! It is Miss Bennet to you! My forbearance towards you is reaching its limit fast! Now, leave!” Glaring furiously at him, Darcy struggled to control his anger as he closed his fists tightly by his sides.
Elizabeth protested softly at Darcy’s curt dismissal of Wickham. Surely he had been forward towards her but that was no excuse to be unpleasant with her guest. But Darcy’s demeanour quickly schooled her to control her displeasure. He was very upset with her; she could tell it from the cold glare in his eyes.
Wickham left immediately, in silence, pleased with the sight of an angry Elizabeth facing her displeased and raging fiancé. Well, well Darcy, this might turn out interesting… I might be able to gain something from this, he wondered as he left hastily.
Darcy was avoiding looking at Elizabeth. He had to control his anger. He was utterly displeased with the familiarity Wickham bestowed upon her and her easy acceptance of it. How could she allow his advances when she was to marry him in two days? Turning to face her, he was surprised to see her displeasure written upon her beautiful countenance. How lovely she looked when her eyes flashed wildly with fury… Fury? He wondered, how can she be furious? I’m the one who should be outraged!
“Elizabeth, may I ask…”
“Mr Darcy, how could you be so unpleasant to poor Mr Wickham?” she interrupted him in an indignant tone. “I know he was a bit forward but I was capable of handling the situation by myself. He’s a guest at my home!”
“I don’t care if he is a guest. Besides, he shouldn’t even be here and least of all with you! You are to be my wife! I don’t want you near that man, and certainly not speaking to him!”
“Are you forbidding me to talk to a friend? She asked bewildered. “Why may I ask?”
“Trust me, Elizabeth, that man is not one you should be considering as a friend.”
“But why? Don’t I deserve an explanation?”
“You’ll have to accept my word upon this. Elizabeth, may this be the last time I see you speaking to him. I don’t want to argue with you any longer about this.”
As Elizabeth watched his tense face she tried to rein her anger in silence. It would do her no good to infuriate him about this. In two days’ time they would be wed and she had no desire of living with an angry husband. She would have to relinquish this friendship… It would be no great loss , she figured, as she would probably never lay her eyes upon Wickham again. Lowering her eyes to the book she held, she resolved to try please Darcy so that the black cloud hanging over them could be cast away.
“I haven’t thanked you yet for your lovely gifts, sir.” She said softly as she warily looked at him.
After inhaling deeply and closing his eyes for a respite, Darcy’s face softened and he reached for her hand. His fingers entwined hers spreading through her hand an unfamiliar but exquisitely pleasant warmth. She shuddered at his touch and he felt it.
“My darling Elizabeth, they are nothing compared to you…” he whispered as he closed the distance between them. “Do you enjoy reading Shakespeare?”
“Yes, he is my favourite author. My father…” she faltered at the memory of her loss. He squeezed her hand gently to encourage her. Looking at him she continued, “My father always encouraged me to read Shakespeare’s works. He was his favourite as well.”
Tears welled up in her beautiful eyes. Understanding her grief, Darcy stroked her hand gently and whispered to her in a tone so soft and tender that sent through her a shiver of delight,
“If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, ‘This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne’er touch’d earthly faces.’”
He touched her face so lightly with his fingertips. His eyes seemed to swallow her as she gazed into their dark depth.
“My love…” he whispered on her lips.
“Liiiizzzzzy!” her mother squealed from the door. “Bring dear Mr Darcy inside for tea! Where are your manners?”
The interlude was shattered between them. Both were unsatisfied but Elizabeth wanted to believe that she was more displeased about his dismissal of Wickham than about the kiss that didn’t happen. At least that was she kept telling herself as he guided her across the garden and into the house.
Posted on Tuesday, 2 May 2006
After tea, Darcy easily persuaded Elizabeth to return to the garden. She was quite embarrassed by her mother’s raptures upon her groom and the prospect of inhabiting Netherfield. Her mother had no sense at all and she seemed to have forgotten that she was a widow, a very recent one.
They soon reached her favourite bench in the secluded corner of the garden. After being certain that his lovely bride was comfortable, Darcy surprised her when he kneeled before her and presented her with a small worn box.
Elizabeth watched him intently as he struggled to speak. Could he be shy? She wondered. He certainly seemed to be blushing and embarrassed. No, it could not be. He was a proud and arrogant man.
“Elizabeth, I… I… Well, you see… You… I… ” he hesitated as he searched in his mind for the perfect words, for his perfect Elizabeth.
“What is it, sir? The cat caught your tongue?” she teased him with a glint of mischief in her eyes. His shyness disarmed her. She had even forgotten her ill-manner towards him. He smiled broadly at her teasing. His smile confounded her. His smile turned his handsome face even more handsome.
In the absence of words, he opened the box and revealed to her the loveliest ring she had ever seen. She gasped as she observed it. It was a delicate golden ring with small diamonds entwined with small roses engraved on the band. It was simple but exquisite and certainly an heirloom.
“It was mother’s engagement ring, as it was my grandmother’s and great grandmother’s. Now it is yours, my dearest loveliest Elizabeth.” He took the ring and kissed it before sliding it upon her finger slowly and gently. Then he kissed her ringed finger. “I should have given it to you earlier, my dear. But the circumstances… well, it wasn’t the proper occasion. I hope you will forgive me.”
“Oh, no… it doesn’t matter. It is lovely, Mr Darcy. Thank you.”
He watched her as she watched her ring. Her changing attitudes confused him. Sometimes she seemed to dislike him, then she would be shy with him. Definitely, it was not the Elizabeth he thought she would be as his fiancée. She was outspoken and lively but with him she retreated. He had imagined she would be as passionate as he was… He frowned as his thoughts raced through his mind.
Perceiving his frown, Elizabeth wondered if she had displeased him. She decided to make him happy and timidly touched his face, surprising him. He turned his head so that he could kiss her palm tenderly. He smiled and sat beside her and entwining his fingers with hers.
“The day after tomorrow we will be husband and wife. How are the preparations going, dearest?”
She cringed as she thought that she had left almost everything in her mother’s hands. This was not the wedding she wanted. This was not the groom she wanted. Swallowing her uneasiness, she softly replied,
“Everything has been taken care of. There wasn’t much to do as we are in mourning, as you know. My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner will be arriving tomorrow.”
“I’m glad. I’ll be pleased to see Mr and Mrs Gardiner again. My sister and Colonel Fitzwilliam will be arriving tomorrow as well. Georgiana is anxious to meet you.”
“Aye, and I her. And Mr Bingley, will he be at the wedding as well?” she asked him thinking of dear Jane.
A flash of annoyance crossed his eyes and his mouth twisted in a tense line. “No, he won’t be coming. He has travelled to Scarborough and he will be there for some weeks. My cousin Fitzwilliam will be standing up for me.”
A feeling of despair descended upon her. He didn’t tell Mr Bingley! He certainly concealed her father’s demise and now their wedding. Insufferable man! Poor Jane! She barely managed to contain her frustration.
Pleading a sudden headache, he gently returned her to her home and took leave. His Elizabeth definitely puzzled him.
The wedding day came along on a bright cheerful day. May flowers were blooming everywhere. But the bride couldn’t feel the brightness and cheerfulness around her. Her misgivings about the wedding disturbed her deeply and the loss of her father was still too fresh on her mind.
She stared at the reflection on her mirror. She looked quite beautiful. As a bride in mourning, she didn’t want to disrespect her father’s memory by using a white gown. She chose a more suitable dress: a soft pearl grey silk. The bodice was lightly embroidered in dark grey with little pearls. Her wild curly hair had been crafted sophisticatedly. Her dark chocolate curls were interlaced with little pearls and orange blossoms. The maid had put on her wedding bonnet matching her gown and a grey veil on top. She looked quite pretty, but it was hard for her to conceal the misery in her eyes.
She felt miserable for marrying Darcy. She didn’t love him. She felt guilty because he truly loved her and she was being dishonest by not professing her lack of affection towards him. But it was late. She had accepted him, she had accepted the “bargain”: she was to wed him and her family to live in Netherfield. Breathing in deeply she prayed for herself, she needed to be strong. She promised herself to make this arrangement work. Her family was deeply indebted to this man.
Picking up her bouquet of orange blossoms and cream roses, she left the safety of her girlhood room into the uncertainty of what awaited her: a new phase that would lead her to womanhood. Hopefully, not so grim a future…
It had been a long day. The ceremony was a blur in Elizabeth’s mind and the small discreet wedding breakfast at Netherfield, her family’s new home, passed by swiftly. Darcy delayed for a few hours their departure to London at his wife’s request. She wanted to accompany her family’s arrival at Netherfield and depart from her beloved home at Longbourn.
The journey to London had been quite silent and stressing as well. Her husband watched her most of the time and that left her uncomfortable. The arrival at the Darcys’ townhouse was taxing as well. It was an elegant but sober building. But lined in the foyer were all the servants and the housekeeper to welcome their Master and their new Mistress. She felt as if she was on display for their inspection and that left her uncomfortable too.
It had been, indeed, a long stressful day. Elizabeth’s emotions were in a whirlwind as she recalled leaving behind her mother, her sisters and Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. Specially Jane… She knew her husband held a low opinion of her family and it would certainly mean that she would be seeing them not as often as she liked.
And her father… How she longed for her father… A tear fell on her cheek as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Not much had changed since the last time she looked at herself. But there was a change: now she was a married woman. Looking back at her was the image of a woman with sorrowful eyes clad in a revealing silk nightgown and matching robe. Touching her gown, she was amazed at the smooth feeling on her body and she blushed deeply as she could easily see the shape of her body underneath it. Her Aunt Gardiner had given it to her and whispered that Mr Darcy would be pleased to see her in it.
Her new maid, Sally, had just left her in her new bedroom. She had liked it instantly. It was a cheerful room decorated in soft tones of blue and cream and it was elegantly furnished. The room gave her the impression of a garden as several bouquets of cream roses interspersed with orange blossoms surrounded her. Mr Darcy certainly knew how to please a woman… Unfortunately not always! she reminded herself snappily.
She seated herself on the settee in front of the fireplace. She was getting nervous. She wasn’t sure about what to expect. Soon her husband would come to her and she would become his wife in her bed. She shivered as she recalled her mother’s brief description of what to expect and how to behave. Her mother had advised her to lie back and suffer the unpleasant duties of a wife. “Don’t laugh, don’t cry and don’t move!” she had repeated to her several times. She dreaded the moment as she had heard in the past, when overhearing certain hushed conversations, that the marital duties could be quite unpleasant. But her dear Aunt Gardiner had told her, when she revealed her fears, to trust her husband, to trust in his love. What could this mean? She hated being kept in the dark and not knowing what would happen was what exasperated her the most.
Suddenly a thought struck her. Would he find out that she didn’t love him? Would he be able to discover that when they joined in bed? The notion of this dreadful revelation left her in a bigger distress. He would be upset and he would hate her… Would he hurt her? As she pondered on this, she hadn’t noticed that her husband had just entered her room.
Darcy paused in the doorway as he took her figure in. She looked amazingly beautiful, a bewitching seductress even if she didn’t realise it. She had kept her hair up with the pearls and orange blossoms she had worn at the wedding. Her nightclothes were very alluring and revealing. She was certainly the handsomest woman of his acquaintance and she was his, his wife, he mused satisfied.
“Elizabeth” he whispered softly as he approached her.
Startled, she stood up unaware that she produced an even more attractive picture to her husband. “Good evening, sir.” She greeted him nervously. She felt awkwardly undressed as he was still wearing his shirt and breeches. His unclothed neck fastened her attention as he walked towards her.
“Would you like some wine, my love?” he asked her as he poured a glass.
“No, I mean, yes, no… Yes, I would like some, sir.” She grabbed the glass he handed her and drank it all at once. Chuckling he offered her some more which she immediately accepted.
“Drink this one more slowly, Elizabeth. Otherwise you’ll be sick” he advised her laughing softly as he perceived her uneasiness.
They both sat on the settee sipping the wine. Darcy knew she was nervous and that he needed to control his ardour for her. Setting aside his glass he started fiddling his fingers in her hair removing the pins and pearls that held it up. Her dark curls tumbled down as he worked his way through them. The fragrance of the orange blossoms intoxicated him and he couldn’t resist nuzzling his face in her hair.
“You are so beautiful, Elizabeth… You don’t know how lovely you are to me…” he whispered as he kissed her fragrant curls. He caressed her arms gently as he turned her towards him. She was blushing violently and couldn’t return his gaze. He touched her face lightly with his fingers and cupped her chin lifting her face so that he could see her beautiful eyes.
“Look at me, my love.” He whispered against her lips. She felt drawn into his eyes. Her conflicting feelings towards this man pulsed through her. She felt she was easily losing her control and drowning in his beautiful dark eyes. It was an innocent kiss at first. Slowly, his tongue began teasing her lips in a gentle manner. He pulled away from her and brushed a curl back from her face. He kissed her again and again and Elizabeth felt herself grow warmer and breathless with each kiss her husband was giving her. Without understanding how it happened, he had undressed her robe. He was caressing her bare arms and back leaving Elizabeth in a whirlwind of sensations unknown to her.
He looked into her dazed eyes and swiftly scooped her in his arms and carried her to her bed. He lay beside her as he marveled at her beauty and softness. She grew weary as she knew what she dreaded was to come. Darcy, unaware of her true feelings, resumed his attentions upon his wife.
She was experiencing such pleasant and disconcerting sensations but at the same time her lack of affection for him screamed at the forefront of her mind. Sensing her awkwardness, Darcy resumed his kissing and caressing.
Elizabeth was still tense, quiet and overwhelmed. She gazed over her husband’s sleeping form. He had drifted into a deep satisfied sleep. Deep sadness enveloped her.
I’m now his! she wearily shuddered. Staring at the ceiling, she waited for slumber to arrive and involve her in numbness.
Posted on Sunday, 14 May 2006
They were tentative towards each other as if they were walking on thin ice. Darcy was aware that his wife was still deeply affected by her father’s death. He also believed that being apart from her family, especially Jane, added to her depressed mood. However, he couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed with her as he had imagined Elizabeth as being a more passionate wife. Her charming playfulness seemed to have disappeared and the sparkling of her beautiful eyes was subdued.
“It must be about her father” he kept telling himself, soothing his uneasiness.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, felt trapped in her depressive moods. She mourned her father, she longed for Jane and she feared Darcy’s discovery about her true feelings for him. She didn’t love him… and that made her feel guilty. Her guilt was acute for his regard for her was fervent which left her dwelling in a sense of unworthiness. He had been overtly generous towards her family. He had done it for her, expecting nothing but her love for him. And she couldn’t, she wouldn’t return her feelings.
Their stay in town was mostly occupied with numerous tasks concerning their household and the preparations to leave to Pemberley. While Darcy helped his wife become acquainted with their townhouse and its management, his admiration for her intelligence and perceptiveness grew more and more. She was a sensible young woman who revealed interest in learning her duties and assuring that others, her new family and their servants, were comfortable and cared for. He had been right in his choice. Despite her outrageous family, she was someone he could be proud of.
Their days were spent with household and business duties. In the mornings Elizabeth would go shopping for her trousseau and new wardrobe in the company of her dear Aunt Gardiner. In the afternoons, the Darcys could be seen in the quiet solitude of their library or strolling in the nearest park.
They even attended a family gathering at the Matlocks. But these weeks were spent mostly by themselves and their nights had been spent in the intimacy of Elizabeth’s bed as Darcy’s passion for his bride had not diminished, contrarily to what Mrs Bennet had foretold her daughter.
Two days before leaving to Pemberley, Darcy and Elizabeth were expected to call on his Uncle, the Earl of Matlock. She dreaded meeting his relatives, fearing their rejection or their displeasure towards their marriage as Lady Catherine had done. The formidable mistress of Rosings Park had berated her, accusing her of polluting the shades of Pemberley in a very long and abusive letter she had received a few days before the wedding.
It had been with a lot of trepidation that Elizabeth met her new relatives though her husband had assured her that they would all love her. His Aunt, Lady Margaret, had welcomed her warmly. She was as amiable as her son, Colonial Fitzwilliam. His Uncle, though, had observed her sombrely as stared at her as Darcy had done in Hertfordshire. Definitely, the Earl of Matlock disapproved of his nephew’s match, even though he hadn’t uttered a word about it. His demeanour was cold and condescending whenever he addressed her, barely making the effort to acknowledge her. Present at the family gathering were also their sons, Edward, the eldest, and his wife Eleanor, and Richard, the Colonel. The sweet shy presence of Georgiana quieted some of the uneasiness that disturbed Elizabeth.
Darcy had remained quite silent during their visit at the Matlocks. First he had talked quietly with his sister, assessing how she had fared away from him and under their Aunt and Uncle’s care. Then, during most of the afternoon, he watched silently as his wife struggled through to please his family. He watched smiling as she conversed with Lady Margaret and the Colonel. His Aunt rapidly warmed up to Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam easily engaged her in a light teasing banter. Soon Elizabeth was able to include Georgiana’s timid participation in their easy conversation. He watched with great pleasure as Elizabeth bloomed into the lively Miss Bennet he had fallen in love with in Hertfordshire.
The evening would bring some unpleasantness to Elizabeth. The Matlocks had insisted they joined them for supper as they were entertaining some guests. Elizabeth had claimed her desire to leave as she was still in mourning, therefore it would be improper for her to attend a social gathering. Despite this, Darcy accepted the invitation willing to appease his Uncle’s obvious displeasure about his marital choice.
Elizabeth was rapidly growing annoyed at her husband’s dismissal of her wishes. She was tired of the stressful afternoon with his relatives and she had no desire to socialize with strangers of the ton.
The Matlocks welcomed to their table their friends Mr and Mrs Worthington. Mr Worthington was a pompous greasy fellow in his thirties. He reminded Elizabeth of her dreadful cousin, Mr Collins. His wife Isabella, on the other hand, was a stunning tall blond of five and twenty. She exuded frivolity and snobbery.
The new additions to the party brought no relief to Elizabeth as they were as haughty and proud as the Earl of Matlock. They were civil, to be sure but Mrs Worthington eyed her with condescension and a glint of contempt which annoyed her deeply.
Her distress increased as she observed her husband in deep conversation with the beautiful Mrs Worthington. He looked a different man. He seemed to be enjoying her company. He smiled and even laughed softly. She recalled his cousin’s words in Hunsford about Darcy’s “liveliness” in “other places”.
Disappointment filled her mind as she dropped her gaze to her lap. She could never be considered a beautiful woman. That appellation had always been given to her sweet sister, Jane. And now, still in mourning, despite wearing a new black satin gown, she looked very plain in comparison to their fair guest. For Mrs Worthington was indeed a sight to be seen: her tall slender figure was hugged revealing by an elegant gown of blue silk that enhanced her clear blue eyes and light complexion. Her blonde hair was elegantly entwined in a sophisticated arrangement of feathers and blue ribbons. She exuded elegance and confidence. She flirted with Darcy and seemed to have captivated his attention.
Her annoyance grew as she found her place at the table away from her husband, he was seated on his Aunt’s right side and next to him was the blond creature. Elizabeth was seated on the Earl’s right side and next to Mr Worthington. At least across from her was sweet Georgiana. But her shyness seemed greater even though she was seated on her Uncle’s side.
Elizabeth was confused about the conflicting emotions twirling inside her. She did not care for him, so why should she be upset? She kept telling herself to stop worrying about it. However, she couldn’t keep her eyes off her husband. She watched as Darcy fell into a quiet conversation with Mrs Worthington and as the lady leaned closer and smiling at him.
Her dinner companions barely spoke to her which added to her pitiful mood as she contemplated the other end of the table. Everyone seemed oblivious to her mood, except for the annoying Mrs Worthington who would glance at her occasionally with a wry smile on her lips. Unbeknownst to her, Lady Margaret caught Elizabeth’s frowned expression and glares and immediately understood that the woman’s flirtation was upsetting her new niece. She tried to catch her gaze, and when she did, she smiled affectionately at Elizabeth in an attempt to appease her distress.
“Mrs Darcy, pray tell me, have you ever been to Pemberley, my dear?” Lady Margaret inquired trying to draw her into conversation.
“No, I haven’t, Lady Margaret. But I’ll be seeing it soon as we leave in a few days.”
“Pemberley?” Mrs Worthington interrupted. “You haven’t been to Pemberley, Mrs Darcy? Oh my… you must take her sir. It is such a grand estate! Mr Darcy has such exquisite taste… Your home in Derbyshire is remarkable, sir!”
She rambled on about the grandness of Pemberley, resembling frighteningly Miss Bingley’s babbling whenever the subject concerning Darcy’s estate was brought up.
Darcy blushed slightly and smiled uncomfortably as he gazed his wife.
“I haven’t been to Pemberley for a while… It must have been two years ago, wouldn’t it Mr Darcy?” She turned to his Aunt and added “Such a grand house… How I long to see it again! We must visit you in the country some time… I’m sure my husband would be delighted as well.”
“We would be honoured” Darcy replied watching his frowning wife.
“You mustn’t hide in Derbyshire for so long, Darcy.” The blond creature’s husband chided him. “You tend to shun the pleasures of town. We haven’t had the pleasure of your company in town lately…”
“Why, yes Mr Darcy. Please don’t hide in Pemberley, sir. We long for your company…” she added seductively. Facing Elizabeth she said in a sarcastic tone “Certainly your wife would be too bored for so long in the country, wouldn’t you Mrs Darcy?”
“Not at all” Elizabeth replied dryly. “I’m a simple girl haling from Hertfordshire. I would never grow tired of the country.”
The blond creature eyed her critically. “Well, but you would certainly lack the sophistication of town…” She gazed her slowly with a sarcastic inflection on her features, she added “Hiding away in the country certainly makes one grow… plain… uninteresting…”
Elizabeth gasped at her audacity. Darcy frowned and dropped his gaze to his glass of wine. Sensing the tension, Lady Margaret stood up and urged the ladies to leave to the music room, breaking up the conversation.
As Elizabeth left the dining-room, she felt Darcy’s stern glare upon her. 'How dare he', she thought, 'I’m insulted and he looks at me as if I’m the guilty one!'
Soon after the men joined the ladies in the music room, the evening came to an end as Darcy expressed his wish to leave. He informed his sister of their plans to leave for Pemberley in a few days and that Colonel Fitzwilliam would accompany her back to Derbyshire in a month.
Lady Margaret’s heart went out to Elizabeth as she had sympathised with the girl’s distress about meeting the family and she regretted having imposed the Worthingtons on her. Before entering their carriage, she unexpectedly hugged Elizabeth and whispered to her ear to disregard the flirtation Darcy bore.
Once on the road towards the Darcy town house, Darcy broke his silence.
“Elizabeth, I’m sorry about this evening. I know you didn’t want to stay… but my Uncle, he… he doesn’t approve of our marriage. But he will never mistreat you… I assure you that…” Her silence worried him. He added softly “In time, I believe you will be able to conquer his heart, as you do with everyone who has the pleasure of knowing you…”
She continued silent, her gaze fixed on the floor.
“My love, are you upset? Is this about Mrs Worthington?” he chuckled softly.
“You find this funny, sir? That woman insulted me in front of your family! And you said nothing!” she replied resentfully.
He laughed softly and pulled her into his arms. She pouted and struggled attempting to release herself. But he held her tighter and whispered and her ear,
“My, my… we are jealous, Mrs Darcy…” he nuzzled her neck playfully. “You are my jealous little one.”
Frustrated, she gave in and leaned against him. 'Insufferable, insufferable man!'
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Note: Chapter Seven is rated PG 13.
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Darcy had noted his wife’s lighter disposition and attributed it to the magic of Pemberley. He had always known that she would fit admirably in his beloved home. He stared at his wife, taking in her reactions as the coach approached the house. He was pleased beyond measure.
Elizabeth was mesmerized as she glanced over the grounds and woods. Sighing deeply with a light smile on her lips she turned to face her husband. “Your estate is beautiful, sir.” she whispered.
“Welcome to Pemberley… Welcome to our home, my love…” he reached out grasping her hand. He swiftly took her glove off and bestowed feathery kisses on her skin. She gasped as a deep blush covered her face in reaction to the sensations his warm lips were causing on her hand. She couldn’t stop the fluttering inside her. It was disconcerting… but utterly pleasant…
The coach finally halted in front of the grand stairway leading up to the main entrance. Darcy quickly put her glove back on and, smiling broadly, he descended. He reached out for her but, instead of holding her hand to help her get out, he impulsively grasped hold of her waist and twirled her around laughing softly. He stopped suddenly and, shocking both his wife and servants, he kissed her soundly before gently placing her feet on the ground.
Elizabeth was so astonished that she stared openly at her husband for long time, captivated by his playfulness and his mesmerizing dimples. Perceiving his wife’s astonishment, Darcy chuckled as he pulled her hand to introduce her to Mrs Reynolds, his loyal housekeeper and a long, long line of well-wishing servants.
It had been a long day, after a long journey. As she brushed her dark curls, Elizabeth weighed her impressions and thoughts in her mind. She had feared this extensive journey as she would be spending a lot of time in a confined space with Mr Darcy. His nearness confused her as did his ardent manners. His past actions refused to leave her mind but she sensed a change in her. She was becoming more and more vulnerable to his tender advances and his return to Pemberley was allowing her to know a more amiable and relaxed version of her husband.
Elizabeth let her gaze fall upon the beautiful bouquet that rested on her vanity-table. It was a gorgeous arrangement of white camellias. Before supper, when he had showed her her room, he embraced her waist and whispered seductively in her ear that he had ordered those flowers for a particular reason:
“I read once, my love, that flowers convey special messages between lovers… Camellias are symbols of perfection… and the message white camellias hide is 'You are adorable…'”*
She sighed deeply closing her eyes. She recalled the kiss he had given her then. She believed she could still feel the tingling on her lips. Her reactions to him confounded her.
She set on the vanity the lovely silver brush her husband had presented her on their wedding day. The grooming set he gave her that day was exquisitely engraved with roses and it had her new initials, ED. 'He can be a very thoughtful and generous man,' she thought. 'Generous enough to provide for her family’s wellbeing, the same family he found deplorable.' She snapped at herself, but regretting immediately the hurtful memory of his words.
She recalled once reading that there was a thin line between love and hate. She hated her husband, at least for what he had done to Jane and Mr Wickham. His proud and arrogant manner disgusted her as well, but she had also come to know a softer and tenderer version of him during the three weeks they spent in London. 'Is it true what they say, that hate is close to love?' she wondered.
They were at Pemberley, at last. And the woman he loved was a few paces away from him. He had enjoyed Elizabeth’s reactions to his home, 'their home', he corrected himself. She truly belonged there… She seemed happier and more at ease. She seemed the Elizabeth he had fallen in love with before she lost her father.
Three weeks had flown away since their wedding. A small grin graced his lips as he remembered the sweet intimacies he had exchanged with his wife. 'His wife… the word filled his heart with such joy!' But a certain uneasiness persisted in the back of his mind. Elizabeth still betrayed a certain shyness that he believed she would have overcome by now. He understood her maidenly coyness but… her resistance to his caresses upset him. He wanted her to feel the same pleasure he felt when he held her in his arms. He knew her body was responsive to his… as he sensed her resistance.
Perhaps it was his fault. He had been too eager on their first night and he regretted it. He hoped she hadn’t been too upset about it. However, he had tried ever since to make her feel more at ease and to let herself give in to the pleasures of lovemaking. He realized that young ladies were brought up to behave properly and that the pleasures of the flesh were frowned upon by “polite” society. But his father had taught him that in a marriage of love, as his had been, there were no barriers between husband and wife. That was the sort of marriage he wanted. He would have to gently teach Elizabeth…
Sighing deeply, he let himself in her bedchamber.
Darcy had been some what insatiable that evening, having made love to her twice already. In the middle of the night, she woke up as he was caressing her devotedly. It was clear that her husband wanted to engage her for a third time in her ‘wifely duties’. Elizabeth had found extremely difficult that night to conceal the effects of his touch upon her body. He seemed determined to make her behave wantonly…
She complied with him by allowing his fondling. His passionate kisses left her panting. It was causing her to feel differently… wantonly…
However, when, between his attentions, he asked her to take off her nightgown so that he could look at her, she froze. Elizabeth blushed furiously, mortified with such a request of impropriety. 'Was he trying to test her responses, to determine how low her upbringing was?' The thought crossed her mind making her frown and tremble in distress.
“Elizabeth, what is the matter? Why are you trembling? Don’t feel ashamed, my dearest… We are husband and wife now. This is all proper between two people who love each other as deeply as we do…” he whispered to her, caressing her face, trying to calm her.
As he spoke of love, she closed her eyes to conceal the wave of guilt she felt for not loving him back. She felt his strong hands pulling the thin nightgown off her body leaving her more vulnerable to his touch and to the cool air of the night. Soft kisses rained on her eyes, nose, face and neck. She felt her composure melt against his tenderness and the warmth of his body. And she surrendered to him completely.
Darcy drew her gently into his arms and he kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose. He looked into her eyes with such serious devotion that made her feel overwhelmed.
“Elizabeth, I love you with all my heart.” His voice trembled with emotion. He watched seriously her as he waited for her reply. Suddenly he felt uncertain; he needed to hear her tell him how much she loved him. But her answer wouldn’t come.
As he spoke of his love for her, she opened wide her eyes and guilt crossed her lovely features, shocked that he expected her love. He truly believed that she loved him… Her face revealed too much of her anguish to Darcy who quickly understood that something was amiss…
Sitting up abruptly, Darcy gazed acutely at his wife trying to control his confusion when suddenly he gasped… He understood at last! Images of their past intimacies flashing in his mind, her awkwardness, her shyness… Her distress? Her formality in her address… It was all the revelation of her true feelings towards him… 'Could she not be in love with him?'
“What is wrong, Elizabeth? Will you not tell me you love me?” fear flashed in his deep brown eyes. He waited long for her reply. She would not answer but turned her face away from him.
“I demand an answer!” his hurt stressed his voice. Quiet desperation fell upon them.
Elizabeth couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t answer him. She was so distressed, scared of what might happen… But she had to tell him how she felt… She could no longer live a lie with this man who held her future and her safety in his hands. Trembling she looked up at him and whispered “No”.
Dashing frantically out of her bed, Darcy started pacing around the room, trying desperately to control his emotions. Pulling his hair with his desperate fingers, he kept flashing his hurt eyes towards Elizabeth.
“You don’t love…” A tear fell on his cheek. He was utterly confused. “But… we have just… For three weeks… You and I…” Incoherent thoughts rendered him speechless as he looked at his wife. His wife… whom he didn’t know. Her deception hurt him deeply and baffled him. She had accepted him in her bed every night since their wedding. He had loved her, a woman who had lied to him. Hurt gave way to anger.
“Why did you marry me, then?” He asked brusquely. “Was it for my money?”
Elizabeth clutched the sheets against her sobbing body. Her state of undress left her in an even more uncomfortable and humiliating position. She needed to be truthful to him. She could no longer hide her true disposition. 'How could such wonderful moments become a living hell…'
“Why did you marry me? Answer me!”
Unable to look at him she cried softly “For my family, sir.”
NOTE: * From The Language of Flowers in http://www.thegardener.btinternet.co.uk/flowerlanguage.html
Posted on Tuesday, 16 May 2006
“Your family?” He repeated unable to comprehend her meaning.
“Yes, my father… his death… We were left in a desperate situation, sir.” She hid her face in her knees sobbing convulsively.
“B-But… but I proposed to you before you even learned about his death.” Confused he approached her. “We were engaged before that.” Only then did he realize that he was still nude. Humiliated, he rushed towards the bed and grabbed his nightshirt, putting it on swiftly. He faced her again with anguish written all over his face.
“I-I don’t understand… You accepted me! Remember?”
“No, I didn’t.” She raised her head and looked at him. He looked so desperate and bewildered. Should she tell him? “Wh-when you proposed… we were interrupted. Mr Collins came in before I could give you my answer… and I…”
“Are you telling me that you were going to… to refuse me? I don’t believe it, madam!” He cut her explanation with a sarcastic and disbelieving tone in his voice.
Elizabeth’s distress quickly escalated into ire. How dare he! How presumptuous of him! Of all his arrogance… She groaned in great annoyance and sharply cried “Yes, I was going to refuse you!”
He started. He stared in complete astonishment. Her words sank in as her earnest reply. Could he have misunderstood her all along? Darcy fixed his eyes on her face. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of self-control, and would not open his lips, till he believed himself to have attained it. At length, in a voice of forced composure, he said,
“And this would be the reply which I would have had the honour of expecting? I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, you would have rejected me, as a husband?”
“I might as well enquire,” replied she, “why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you proposed to me in such an abhorrent manner? You told me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? But I had and still have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would have tempted me to accept the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”
He winced as he realized she knew about his interference in Bingley’s messy love life. But he could not stop staring at her. Her fierce countenance and the anger flashing in her dark eyes rendered her even more beautiful. Her chocolate curls were in a wild disarray, consequence of their intense lovemaking. Her lips were swollen from his passionate embraces. Her naked shoulders and partially uncovered bosom were a prelude to her luscious body, barely hidden from him by the thin sheet. She was so breathtakingly sensual… This gorgeous creature had been his… and now she was slipping away from him…
Encouraged by his lack of response, Elizabeth continued her thrashing at him. The bottled up resentment and frustrations were flowing ferociously through her lips.
“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you, Mr Darcy. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind. I even believe that you concealed from Mr Bingley my father’s death and our own wedding.”
She paused, and saw with indignation that he was listening with an air which proved him completely unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.
“Can you deny that you have done it, sir?'' she repeated.
Unable to disguise his composure any longer, he shouted, “I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. From what I can see now, I have been kinder towards him than towards myself.”
He resumed his frantic pacing around the bedroom. Again he stopped and explained, “You would have me believe your sister would have accepted Bingley uninterestedly? Even at the Netherfield ball, your mother was already boasting to all who could hear her about her daughter’s “ability” in capturing the attentions of a gentleman of 5 thousand pounds! I did not wish my friend to fall in the hands of a fortune hunter!”
Elizabeth started at his words. But soon her anger would be replaced by utter humiliation. She closed her eyes as his words hit her:
“But, no… What am I saying?” He snorted sarcastically. “No, I prevented him from committing the mistake that I let myself fall into. Isn’t life ironic, dearest? For indeed, I married the fortune hunter, haven’t I, my wife?”
His contorted face and tight fists betrayed his fury. Elizabeth felt the room spinning around her. This is horrifying, she thought. Their argument was reaching an irreversible peak. How could they go on after this? But the damage was done. Her turmoil upset her so much that she no longer cared for what would happen to them, to her. He had wounded her… and she wanted to hurt him as badly as he had. She raised her eyes belligerently and struck again.
“You are right, husband. Perhaps you have deserved that fate… For you sir, may believe to be a man without fault! Well, allow me to tell you that from the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that ground-work of disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immoveable a dislike.”
He winced and unable to control himself again he approached her bed and gazed over her ill-clad body in a lustful manner that caused her to flush and shudder from complete humiliation.
“You seem to have overcome your dislike, madam…” he replied ironically.
Gasping at his insult, she swallowed and let her anger get the better of her.
“You, sir, are no gentleman!” she hissed. She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued, “But that should not surprise me… For I had learned about your lack of character before…”
The look of confusion on his face enticed her to go on with her attack:
“Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? or under what misrepresentation, can you here impose upon others?”
“You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns,” said Darcy in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour. Jealousy flashing in his dark eyes.
“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?”
“His misfortunes!” repeated Darcy contemptuously; “yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”
“And of your infliction,” cried Elizabeth with energy. “You have reduced him to his present state of poverty. You have withheld the advantages, which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life, of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! And yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule.”
“And this,” cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, “is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,” added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, “these offences might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I with greater policy concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination -- by reason, by reflection, by every thing. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?'”
Elizabeth felt herself growing angrier every moment. She cried out,
“My sister Jane, who has never done anything wrong to you or any soul… She is the sweetest person of my acquaintance… and my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner who are genteel and kind… They are much superior to your noble connections! What of your Aunt, sir? Lady Catherine insulted me at Rosings and in her letter sent to me before our wedding… She is rude and ill-mannered! My connections might be low… in your eyes… but to me, they are dearly loved ones, deserving of more praise than your own…”
Darcy stopped in front of her. His darkened countenance disturbed her. His sudden silence disturbed her. Elizabeth felt her mortification growing every moment. Yet, his next questions would affect her deeply.
“So this is your estimation of me…” he whispered more to himself. He lifted his tearful eyes to meet her gaze. “You don’t love me, madam… You actually married me for my money…” His disbelief still marred his voice. Suddenly the memory of Wickham’s encounter with Elizabeth at Longbourn crossed his mind. Her defence of him, her fierce interest in his “misfortune”… Could it be? Was it possible? Disgust showed on his face as he imagined the woman he loved, the woman he held passionately tonight was in love… with Wickham?
“Do you love him?” he frowned, letting jealousy getting his better judgment. “Is it Wickham you love? Answer me, Elizabeth!”
“No!” she cried vehemently. “I never cared for him!”
He closed his eyes in an attempt to control his emotions, as he noticed Elizabeth’s crumbling face. After a period of silence, broken only by their panting, he approached her and grabbed her face firmly. His intense gaze pierced her tearful eyes. He whispered desperately,
“You truly don’t love me? You…”A sob was caught in his throat. “B-but… I don’t understand… We… we have just loved each other… with such passion… You gave yourself to me?”
His confusion embarrassed her deeply. He struck her weakness. And thus she reacted… without thinking, uttering the words she would regret for the rest of her life:
“How can I? How can I love you, sir? You’ve made me your whore!”
Darcy flinched and immediately released her face. He took one long look at his wife. He was livid and deeply hurt he replied coldly,
“You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having… for being… for being such an unwanted part of your life. Good night.”
Silent tears were tumbling on his face as he ignored her sobbing and her whispered “I’m sorry”. He left the room without another word, without a glance.
Darcy was still stunned when the morning greeted Pemberley. He hadn’t slept at all. He had paced around in his room as a caged animal in fury. Her soft cries had filled his ears all night long, increasing his own despair. He hated her. He hated himself. He hated the absurd situation they were trapped in. He had separated Bingley from her sister to prevent him from a marriage without love. “How ironic, he voiced hurt, “they are the ones in love and unmarried. I ended up marrying a bride who doesn’t love me.” He winced as his frustration menaced spiralling anew inside him.
“This will not do! I can’t…” he rose frustrated and dashed to his washstand. The mirror cast the reflection of a desperate man in deep pain. Dark circles marred his tear strained face. Splashing cold water on it, he attempted to wash away his pain. “It’s useless…” he kept repeating to himself. He stared at the door that kept him from his wife. His wife… He groaned. They should be living the delightful intimacies of newlyweds and here he was… No, he corrected himself; here they were in a living hell. The sort of marriage he had always dreaded and condemned.
Panic filled his chest, rendering him breathless. He dressed in haste, not wishing to face his valet, and left his room towards the stables. He needed to breathe in the freedom of Pemberley’s grounds.
Elizabeth laid prostrated on her bed all night, unable to sleep and stop her tears. She cried and cried until her eyes could shed no more tears. She felt angry but full of remorse as well. How could she respect a man who willingly destroyed others’ chances of happiness? How would they live now that he knew how she felt? I had vowed to marry only for the deepest love… and I married for deepest despair… How she loathed herself for this and how she regretted having concealed her true feelings from him from the very beginning of their relationship!
A wave of panic flourished inside her. She felt weak, desperate and truly vulnerable. And no Jane to comfort her… And her father… Struggling to pull herself together, she rose from her bed. Only then did she realise that she was still nude which made her feel even more vulnerable. She grabbed her nightgown which had been discarded on the floor and donned it. She shivered as she recalled the passionate intimacy she had shared with Darcy that night… their first night at Pemberley. He had whispered to her that taking her there was as if they were living their wedding night again. All Darcy brides had been deflowered at Pemberley. She blushed violently when she thought that, for her, it had been her “first night” as well… for she had never imagined her body could respond to his in such an intense and passionate manner. She remembered suddenly how Darcy looked so satisfied when she had her pleasure… Shame filled her as she realised the contradiction between her feelings and her actions. How could she have been so wanton? How could her body betray her when she declared she didn’t love her husband? How could she face him now?
“What will he think of me? I cannot bear the idea that he thinks ill of me…” she murmured desperately. Flashes of their lovemaking refused to leave her memory, eclipsing their horrible argument. She had accused him of making her his “whore”. How she regretted those words… The look on his face… His pain was so intense that even in her fury she felt sorry for him. She had even wanted to touch him, to erase those horrible words…
“Too late… too late… Wretched… this is a wretched beginning, indeed…” she whispered sobbing. She admitted to herself that she was the one who had sold herself to him. It was her own doing if she was a wh--
Horrified with her own behaviour, she collapsed in her bed sobbing quite violently. She would not be able to face him. How could she look at him?
“What will become of us?” she whispered repeatedly until she fell asleep from pure emotional exhaustion. She didn’t even notice the daylight creeping in her room.