An Unwavering Trust

by L. L. Diamond

  She rarely found herself speechless, but she had seen so little of his sense of humour. Her heart lightened and she placed her hand on her stomach, pressing the butterflies that had suddenly taken flight within. “I would be honoured to be your wife, Mr. Darcy.”

  The words came out at little more than a whisper, but the look of pleasure he wore when she uttered her agreement indicated he had indeed heard. He placed a small kiss on her hand, and her face became aflame as the warm sensation rushed all the way up to her shoulder.

  Mr. Darcy rose from the floor and took the seat beside her once again. He turned the hand he held palm up and placed something in the centre. When his fingers moved away, a ring with a pink stone flanked by two diamonds stood out against the pale white of her skin.

  “It was my mother’s. She gave it to my grandmother to hold until the appropriate time.”

  She brought it closer and fingered the fine gold band and the middle stone. “It is lovely. Is there a story that goes along with it?”

  “How did you know there would be a story?”

  “There usually is, is there not?”

  He smiled and took the ring from her. “If you ever see a portrait of my mother, she had a very pale complexion and faint rose cheeks. My father claimed he picked the centre stone, a pink topaz, to match her complexion.”

  While he spoke, he placed his other hand under hers, spreading her fingers slightly as he slipped the ring onto the ring finger of her right hand. The fit was not quite right, so he moved it to the middle, where it fit well.

  “What of the diamonds on either side?”

  “I believe they were simply there as accents.” Mr. Darcy rubbed his hands on his thighs in a nervous manner before facing her once more.

  “Now, I have been thinking.”

  “Is that not a dangerous occupation, sir?”

  “Pardon?”

  At his incredulous expression, she began to laugh. “We became betrothed after you had been thinking…”

  Mr. Darcy shook his head and chuckled. “I believe that was more from a lack of thought.”

  “I do not know if I should be offended or flattered!”

  “I would take it as a compliment,” he responded.

  “Very well, I shall. Now, what has your mind occupied this time?”

  “I have begun to think it inappropriate that you are on such familiar terms with my family, but not me.” Her eyebrows raised, and she was certain her surprise was evident. “I feel we should perhaps emulate my aunt and uncle. They address each other formally when in a social or public setting, but use each other’s given names when in private.”

  “So, you wish me to call you Fitzwilliam?” He gave a nod and she smiled. “Do you wish to call me Lizzy?” He shook his head and her eyebrows furrowed again.

  “My entire family addresses you as Lizzy, but I would wish to have a name all to myself. I would prefer Elizabeth.” She felt her face warm once again and looked the other way in an attempt to hide it. “Would that bother you?”

  “No.” She caught his eye through her lashes. “It would not bother me at all.”

  He grinned and began to open his mouth as if to say something further when the sound of a door opening startled them both.

  "There you two are," exclaimed the dowager. "I thought I might find Lizzy here, but I am happy to discover you here, too, Fitzwilliam."

  "Nothing had been laid out in the dining room yet when we arrived. Hobbes informed me that Elizabeth had just ventured in here, so I decided to join her. I hope she was not too put out by the interruption."

  She laughed. "No, I was not too put out." His grandmother was studying their interactions, and this time her cheeks burned.

  "Would either of you care to join me in the dining room now that the food is laid out and waiting?"

  Darcy stood and offered Elizabeth his hand. "Shall we go?"

  She placed her hand in his. "By all means, lead the way."

  He offered his Grandmother an arm as well, and they walked to the dining room. Once they were all seated, his grandmother served the tea, but when Elizabeth reached to take her cup, the elder lady reached for her hand.

  "I see Fitzwilliam has finally given you your betrothal gift."

  "Betrothal gift?" She frowned as she tilted her finger to better see the ring.

  "Is something wrong?" Darcy asked with a furrowed brow.

  "I suppose it makes sense." Her voice remained light. The ring was the most beautiful thing she owned. It would not do for him to believe she was disappointed by it. "I assumed it was to be my wedding ring. I hope that does not sound too silly of me?"

  "Elizabeth." He tilted his head in order to catch her eye. "If you wish for that to be your wedding ring, I can see if a jeweller can have it adjusted to fit you before tomorrow; however, I planned on purchasing you a more traditional set of rings."

  "I do not expect you to buy me anything more. You have been more than generous so far, and I do not require anything extravagant. I am unaccustomed to wearing a great deal of jewellery."

  Darcy stood and rounded the table to sit in an empty seat beside her. He took the hand wearing the betrothal gift, and immediately drew her gaze. “I am not purchasing you wedding rings because it is expected of me. I do feel I must do it, and I intend to tell you why."

  Her mouth opened to protest, and he shook his head. "Let me finish, Elizabeth."

  He looked down to her hand and reached over to take the left, holding them between both of his own. His thumb traced over the third finger of her left hand, and she watched and waited for his explanation.

  "We are both rushing into a wedding out of a mutual necessity. I would like to say I behaved admirably for the last week and did my utmost to make both of us comfortable with that fact, but instead, I was selfish and withdrew into myself. It was not what you deserved."

  He paused for a moment obviously searching for the correct words. Her betrothed had, for the most part, appeared so serious and this time was no different. "Had we met under different circumstances… if your family still lived, and we happened to meet, fall in love, and become betrothed, you would have had a betrothal gift, a trousseau, and a wedding in the chapel you attended your entire life, surrounded by those you love. You deserve as close to that experience as can be managed."

  "We both should have had that." Her voice broke as a tear trailed down her cheek.

  He gave her hands a light squeeze. "I suppose, but I would look terrible in a gown. I do not think the modiste would fancy fitting one for me either."

  She could not help the burst of laughter that erupted. His eyes shifted to stare at the ring on her finger. Could it be his nerves that made him avoid her eyes?

  "I know I have been a horrible betrothed this past week, but allow me to make up for that—allow me to give you as close to what you deserve as possible.” He looked up and their gazes locked. “I hope neither of us will one day think back upon our wedding and have regrets. If I am adamant about you having a ring for an engagement gift and wedding rings, it is because I will not give you something less due to the manner of our betrothal.”

  He could certainly speak eloquently when he tried, and gave a lot of thought to what was said. The concentration had all been in his eyes and the way his brow would sometimes furrow as he hesitated for a brief moment. Darcy stood and placed his handkerchief in the palm of the hand he still held.

  “Thank you,” she said in a quiet tone for his ears alone.

  His grandmother cleared her throat. Elizabeth pivoted and avoided the dowager’s gaze in embarrassment; although, the dowager's mischievous smirk was not missed.

  Darcy rose and returned to his place, and the remainder of the meal was passed in companionable conversation.

  When they had finished, Darcy expected to adjourn to the drawing room together, where they would receive callers for the day. But his grandmother looped her arm through his.

  “Lizzy, would you mind if I have a word with my grandson?”


  “Of course not. I will practice on the pianoforte in the music room until you send for me.”

  She smiled warmly and exited the room, while his grandmother tugged him towards her favourite drawing room. Once they were inside, she released him and turned. Her hands were fidgeting, and he was unsure what she was about until she placed her wedding rings in his palm.

  “Your father has Anne’s, which I am certain she would have liked for you to have, but I know he would never relinquish. My fingers were always a bit smaller anyways.”

  Darcy furrowed his brow. “I do not understand.”

  She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Tomorrow, I want you to give these to Lizzy.”

  He stopped and gawked at the precious keepsake he held in his hand and began shaking his head. “I cannot accept these, Grandmamma. I know how much they mean to you.”

  “I have other rings your grandfather gave me. I can wear one of them in their stead.”

  Despite her words, tears were in her eyes. “I would prefer that Lizzy have my rings rather than any of the young women your cousins might marry. She will have a greater appreciation for what they have meant to me, and what I want them to mean to her.”

  “For that reason, she may refuse to take them from you.” Perhaps his grandmother would change her mind. In his heart, he appreciated the gesture and loved her for it, but did not wish her to miss something that was so much a part of her.

  “Then do not tell her where you obtained them.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she placed her hands around the one that held the rings.

  “I want Lizzy to wear these. I want her to eventually pass them on to one of your grandsons for his future wife.” He opened his mouth to object further, but she never gave him the chance. “I will not give way on this. You may as well take them and say thank you.”

  The gleam in her eye was a familiar one. He had seen it in many family squabbles, and recognised it for what it was—a determination that he would not overcome. She would not change her mind. “If you ever wish for them back…”

  “Then I will take comfort seeing them on Lizzy’s finger, where they belong.”

  He sighed in resignation. He had the most recalcitrant grandmother in all of England. “Thank you, Grandmamma. I know she will take very good care of them.”

  “I have no doubt or else I would not entrust them to her.” She removed her hands from his and reached into her pocket, removing a small velvet pouch. “For you to keep them in until tomorrow.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Enough of this sentimental drivel!” she exclaimed. “We have gossip columns to pour over before the callers begin arriving.”

  Darcy groaned and followed her towards the music room to fetch Elizabeth. It was going to be a long day!

  Chapter 9

  Fitzwilliam George David Darcy stood, a glass of wine in his hand, to one side of the drawing room at Ashcroft House, his attention focused on his wife of less than an hour. She was standing across the room conversing with his grandmother, his Aunt Elinor, and his cousin, Grace. Her laughter floated across the room, and he smiled.

  “Aaah,” teased his cousin, Viscount Huntley, who had just leaned against the wall beside him. “You are staring and smiling at simply the sound of her laugh? You are besotted, cousin.”

  Darcy rolled his eyes as he glanced over at the one who interrupted his reverie. “I can enjoy a pair of fine eyes and a pretty face without being besotted.”

  “You might watch your teasing, Arthur, or you may find yourself on the receiving end one of these days.” Uncle Henry took a position beside his son with a smirk.

  A laugh erupted from Huntley’s mouth. “Me? Besotted? I will never moon over a woman the way he is. Whenever they are in the same room, his eyes follow Elizabeth the entire time.”

  “A man can admire his wife.” Darcy spoke with care as he stole a glimpse of Elizabeth. “It is preferable to marrying a woman who is unpleasant and unattractive. My wife is one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”

  “As opposed to Caroline Bingley, who told all of her friends she would be the next mistress of Pemberley?” Huntley rubbed his hands together with glee.

  A shudder ran down Darcy’s spine while Uncle Henry gave an amused snort. “The only way she would become mistress of Pemberley is if she manages to ensnare my father.”

  “I would love to be a fly on the wall when she discovers you have wed,” Huntley mused. “She will not leave any survivors by the time she is through.”

  Darcy’s lip curled in amusement and after a quick glance to his uncle, turned towards his eldest cousin. “Now that you mention it. I am a letter in Bingley’s debt. I will be happy to convey your warmest regards to Miss Bingley when I next write to him. She will, no doubt, be overjoyed to know you were thinking of her.”

  Uncle Henry guffawed when Huntley paled and lost his smug expression. “That is not even funny, Darcy.”

  “I believe she would not find it difficult at all to transfer her affections to you. Just think, Lady Caroline Fitzwilliam, Viscountess Huntley.”

  “I think I will go join the ladies,” Huntley pouted. “Perhaps they might not treat me so unfairly.” He stalked off and made his way to stand beside his mother.

  Uncle Henry watched his son converse with the ladies. “Do not let him fool you. He is jealous of your good fortune.”

  Darcy’s head whipped around to his uncle. “He considers my father’s ultimatum and Elizabeth’s circumstances good fortune?” Huntley would never wish to be in a similar predicament. “Perhaps you should have him evaluated for Bedlam.”

  His uncle laughed, but then, his tone became serious. “Your father may have forced your hand, but you managed to find a lovely, intelligent young woman who happened to need assistance in much the same fashion you did. You were quite lucky. You could have had no choice but to beg Bingley for his sister’s hand.”

  “Huntley needs no help in exacting revenge.”

  “No, he does not,” responded Uncle Henry. “He has joked quite enough this week that he intends to scour the countryside for an honest, witty young lady to marry.”

  From across the room, Elizabeth happened to catch his eye, and gave him a shy smile. “You believe my cousin to be serious?”

  “Only time will tell, but if he is, I credit the change to Lizzy. His glances towards the young ladies in London are rare—he overhears too many of their conversations.” Uncle Henry peered over when he heard his wife giggle and grinned. “Did you make all of the arrangements for your trip?”

  Darcy swallowed the sip of wine he had just taken and nodded. “Yes, we will remain here tonight, leave for Sagemore in the morning, rest there for Sunday, and depart for Bath on Monday.”

  “I assumed as much. The house will be open and ready when you arrive Tuesday evening.”

  “I appreciate you giving us use of your house.”

  His uncle waved off his thanks. “Do not thank me until you have seen it. Elinor cannot abide Bath, and so we have never been. It has been closed up since father became too ill to return.”

  “But you have had a staff in place?”

  “We do, but I would welcome your opinion of its condition, and I am certain Elinor would like Lizzy’s assessment. We have thought about leasing it, but since we are not certain of its state…”

  He nodded in understanding. “Would you not be better off selling it if you have no intention of using the property?”

  “I have considered it, but Elinor and I will give the property to Richard when he returns. We hope he will resign his commission, but I fear he is not one to remain idle. He may not have a long career in the military without being injured, and perhaps a house of his own will allow him some relief when he must settle down.”

  “In the meantime, the property will be his and leased for an income.” His uncle’s plan showed a great deal of wisdom. Richard often joked of marrying with concern for money, but it was doubtful he ever intended to find a bride.
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br />   “Precisely. Due to his allowance, he does not require it to sustain himself, so I plan to invest the profits for him until he returns.”

  “He will be fortunate that you considered his future when the time comes.” His uncle appeared pleased with his assessment, yet now was an appropriate time to change the direction of the conversation. Otherwise, with his cousin Richard away, his uncle might become mired down in his worry.

  “I have thought to terminate the lease on my house in town in order to free it for my own use.”

  Uncle Henry shifted from the appearance of wool-gathering back to attend to Darcy. “Why? Have you some reason to dislike the family?”

  He frowned. Had he indicated anything amiss? “No, not at all. I just thought it would be preferable, now that I am married, for us to stay there when we are in London.”

  “I would discuss this idea with your grandmother.” Uncle Henry’s head tilted so he levelled a stare over his spectacles. “She delights in your company, and frankly, I am more comfortable when I know that you are here. She is so stubborn about not hiring a companion.”

  “She is independent,” he defended, “gets around very well, and you know that whilst she may call herself old, she will rebel against anything that would label her as such.”

  “Young ladies have companions as well,” her son groused. “Why does she have to be so inflexible?”

  “She has a loyal, devoted staff, who will notify you and take care of her every need should something ever happen, but I will speak to her before we depart. We can discuss whether she would prefer us to stay in our own home.”

  “Just consider the option,” his uncle persuaded, “and do not forget the money you can put aside from having it leased.”

  “Elizabeth has a decent settlement, and I still have some savings. I do not even use all of my income as it is.”

  “You might want to consider saving for daughter’s dowries.” Uncle Henry patted him on the shoulder as he grinned. “Daughters are not an inexpensive endeavour and if your wife follows in the footsteps of her mother, you may have quite the brood.”