What Darcy desired, nay what he needed, was for Elizabeth to love him of her own free will. He considered the fact that they had had no courtship, and he was not naturally gifted with social graces. However, he had always seen flattery, poetry, and gifts as vain attempts at buying love. Elizabeth should see him for who he was—faults and all. She should not be blinded by a beautiful bouquet or fine jewellery. Nor did he think giving them as a display of how great and deep his affection was would help matters. She did not appear to doubt his love, and again, he did not wish to have hers out of obligation. What could he do, then, to encourage her? Was he so unlovable?
Chapter Nineteen
Christmas Day came and brought an unusual amount of trepidation for Darcy. Georgiana had assured him that she would tolerate the holiday with the Fitzwilliams and that he should enjoy the time with his new wife and support her family. In two days, the Bennets would leave Netherfield and move into the house he had leased for them. Then his duty to them would be over, and perhaps any shred of admiration on Elizabeth’s side would evaporate as well.
After breakfast, everyone gathered in the drawing room. In a rare show, Mrs. Bennet even joined them. She looked frailer than Darcy had ever seen her before. Her body seemed just as robust, and except for some signs of tiredness, she did not look unwell. However, there was something about the look in her eyes and her mannerisms that seemed so delicate. It reminded him a bit of Elizabeth. Both women had deeply mourned Mr. Bennet.
They took turns passing out gifts. Elizabeth had chosen nearly all the presents from both of them, except for the gentlemen. Darcy chose cigars for Mr. Hurst and a new hat for Bingley as he was always losing his.
At last, Elizabeth held out a small box towards Darcy.
“I hope you like it. You are exceedingly hard to shop for,” she said, then chewed her lower lip as if doubting her gift.
Darcy slowly untied the ribbons and then opened the package. Rifling through packing paper, he finally found a small miniature, already framed. A smile came to his face, and his eyes shined. He met Elizabeth’s gaze. “This is exactly what I wanted. How did you know?”
“Papa did not often travel, but he never went anywhere without a miniature of each of us.”
The overflow of love Darcy felt at the sight of his beautiful Elizabeth captured for his eyes froze at her words.
“Oh, it is newly done,” Elizabeth hastened to explain. “I wrote to Charlotte asking her to make a new one. She just finished in time yesterday.”
Feigning exuberance, Darcy forced a grin to his face and squeezed his wife’s hand in thanks. Inside, however, his heartbeat slowed, and ice filled his veins. She had not perceived that he wanted such a present. She was continuing to guess at how to be a loving spouse by copying storybooks and the examples of others.
“It seems we thought along the same lines.” Darcy thrust his gift to Elizabeth’s waiting hands, desiring to finish the whole process as fast as possible.
Quirking a brow, Elizabeth tore open her package. “William,” she murmured as her eyes landed on her father’s watch, which Darcy had repaired. “I will treasure this.”
“I believe your father would want that.” Darcy nodded.
She cradled it in her hand and then leaned over to show it to those nearest her. Next, she went around the room and made everyone look at it. The others beamed at him as though he had made the best choice in a sentimental gift for her. Did any of them see the truth that their marriage was just a sham?
A shout of joy erupted from Jane, and Darcy turned his head to see Bingley down on one knee. Clapping and merriment filled the room. Elizabeth fiercely hugged her sister while Mrs. Bennet cried happy tears. While the others called for a toast and talked animatedly about their future plans, Darcy watched as Jane gazed at Bingley with all the love that he had hoped to see from Elizabeth. Unbidden, his eyes found her. She wore an expression of longing as she also watched her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law. She glanced away and found Darcy looking at her. Elizabeth flinched, and her face grew ashen with terror.
He could bear it no more. Excusing himself from the room, Darcy returned to his chamber and called for his valet.
“Jones, I will leave for London after the Bennets move.”
“You had planned to leave a few days later. Do you now wish to leave earlier?”
“Yes.” Darcy tore at his cravat. Had he been unclear in some way?
“I see,” Jones replied as he motioned for Darcy to lower his hands and allow him to work. “And Mrs. Darcy?”
Darcy did not immediately reply. He waited until Jones was finished with his tasks.
“Will that be all, sir?” Jones asked.
“Yes.” The valet moved to the door. Just before he opened it, Darcy called after him. “Mrs. Darcy will not be joining me.”
*****
Elizabeth rolled over in her bed, seeking the now-familiar heat source that was her husband. Instead, her hand found only cold sheets. Cracking an eye open, she could see daylight coming through the curtains.
The day before, her sisters and mother moved out of Netherfield and into a house in Meryton. It was smaller than Longbourn but larger than Mrs. Phillips’s home, and therefore, Mrs. Bennet seemed quite pleased with it. Elizabeth had held her breath, expecting some distasteful show from Mr. Collins, but the day went without incident. Indeed, they had some assistance from their long-time friends and neighbours. Between all the staff and men involved, there was little for the women to do but tell them where to put things. After everything was moved in and rearranged two or three times, they ended with a merry little party of tea, cakes, and music—but no dancing. Even still, by the time Darcy and Elizabeth returned to Netherfield, they were exhausted. He had held her close for much of the night, but nothing more happened. In fact, he had not touched her in that way since Christmas Eve. Elizabeth fell asleep to the feeling of Darcy’s lips against her forehead.
Now, the sun was up, and her husband had already started his day. They had taken to rising together, so Elizabeth supposed she awoke late. Her eyes sought out the clock, but it was too far away to see. Turning to the table on her side of the bed, she found the watch Darcy had given her. It was barely after dawn.
Why would Darcy have needed to begin his day so early? Elizabeth cast over conversations in her mind and did not recall him saying anything on the subject. She had hoped he would wish to call on her family but had never brought up the topic for fear that he would lose his patience with her. At some point, distance must be made between her and them, and it may as well start when the others left Netherfield.
Indeed, the more she had thought about it, the more she desired to begin anew with Darcy. Now that all the pressure over her family’s settlement and the death of her father was behind them, they could really start their married life. She at last felt ready to leave most of her mourning behind. She would never forget her father and would always miss him, but she could not miss out on life. That was what she realised when Bingley proposed to Jane on Christmas Day. Elizabeth had barely existed for the last several weeks. At the time, she had been unable to tell her husband. Now she wanted to seize life by the horns. Perhaps then she would feel the missing sensations to know she truly loved Darcy.
Deciding to waste no more time in finding her husband and beginning their happily wedded life, Elizabeth swung her legs over the side of the bed. Sliding her feet into slippers and finding her dressing gown, she tied the belt loosely around her waist as she entered the sitting room between her and Darcy’s chambers. Scanning the area, she saw no signs that her husband had eaten or done work there. Continuing on to the door connecting to his room, she knocked. After hearing no noise, she eased it open. He did not spend much time there, but Elizabeth thought she would have seen more evidence of him. Instead, it looked as though it had been unoccupied. The bed was stripped bare for washing, which she found unusual. Easing towards the dressing room, Elizabeth called out lest she disturb his unsuspecting valet. When th
ere was no answer, she entered. Blood drained from her face when she found bare cupboards.
Mr. Darcy had gone!
And without a word to her! What was she now? An abandoned wife left to have a separate life from him? A pain Elizabeth did not know she could feel ripped through her. She gasped for breath and doubled over against the onslaught. Clutching her stomach and fighting for air, she sunk to the floor. Too late. She realised far, far too late that what she felt for Darcy was more than merely obligation and esteem. She had felt numb after her father’s death. With Darcy’s abandonment, she felt drained of life.
For weeks she had wondered if she had a heart left to give her husband. She thought it had shattered when her father died. Now she knew the truth. She had already fallen in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy. If only it had not taken a broken heart to realise it.
Chapter Twenty
Elizabeth was unsure how long she remained crumpled in Darcy’s dressing room until a maid found her. The woman did not offer pity but did help Elizabeth to her bed. She had brought up breakfast and tea, but Elizabeth could not stomach them.
Curling up in bed, Elizabeth threw her head on Darcy’s pillow, where his scent still lingered. She sobbed until her eyes were sore and swollen. Her throat ached, and it felt like stones rolled in her stomach.
As evening fell, Elizabeth grew thankful that her mother and sisters had already relocated. Surely the Bingleys and the Hursts all knew that Darcy had abandoned her, but she could hide away from their pitying looks and prying questions. The fact that the maid had not been more sympathetic told Elizabeth that even the servants had opinions about her marriage.
A different maid had delivered a tray at dinner, but it also did not appeal to her. Having cried all the moisture from her body, Elizabeth stared blankly at the wall with her back to the door. Now and then, she sniffed Darcy’s pillow for a reminder that he had been there at all.
When there was a quiet knock at supper time, Elizabeth assumed it was the maid with another tray. She turned her head to dismiss the servant. Instead, Caroline stood at the foot of the bed. She handled the tray she carried with grace and set it down on the table near the bed before drawing a chair to Elizabeth’s side. Elizabeth could not meet her eyes.
After a few moments of silence, Caroline cleared her throat. “You must eat, Elizabeth. I know you do not feel up to it just now, but there is no sense in wasting away over him.”
A rueful laugh erupted from Elizabeth’s throat. It may not be very sensible, but was love ever rational? The thought of not mourning Darcy’s defection was as impossible as not grieving over her father’s death. Worst of all, Caroline must be thinking how right she had been in her beliefs about the unsuitableness of their marriage. Surely she felt that she would never lose her husband, especially if he were Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth’s worst fear was proven correct. She was defective, after all. True, she was more than able to love. However, she was unable to love correctly.
“Have you come to gloat?” Elizabeth asked her hostess as she pulled herself into a sitting position.
“I would never.”
“Is this just another exercise in your duty as a hostess?”
“I should have thought you knew me better than that by now.” Caroline’s reply was matter of fact. It did not hold the affront or glee which Elizabeth expected.
“How could I? I barely knew myself until a few hours ago. Tell me, does everyone find me as unforgivably stupid as I do now?”
“Does it matter?” Caroline shrugged.
“No,” Elizabeth admitted and sighed. “There is only one opinion which matters, and his is perfectly clear.”
“What do you think is so obvious about Mr. Darcy’s behaviour?”
“He tired of waiting on me. He could not withstand my cold treatment.”
“You could hardly do otherwise when reeling from your father’s death. I told him so, but he would not listen to me.”
Caroline did not blame her? If only her husband could be persuaded to think likewise.
“Do you think you understand his actions so well?” Caroline asked. “Did he not confess to loving you?”
“How did you know?”
“Oh, we all knew he was in love with you. It was only a wonder that it took him so long to discover it himself. Of course, once he had realised it, it would be unlike him to keep it a secret—even if it had been for your own good.”
Elizabeth stared at her hands. “He did say he loved me.”
“And you doubt his word?”
Blowing out a breath, Elizabeth answered, “When we first met, I took his words to mean he was cold and unfeeling. I thought he was proud and arrogant. When I realised how wrong my impression was, I determined to rely more on his actions. They have proven how affable he really is. I had not thought they were done out of love, but after his declaration, it was easy to see that they were. Now he has left, which shows—”
“Which only shows he thought it best to leave for a time, Elizabeth. Do not be so hasty in your presumptions about him.”
Elizabeth eyed the woman who might have been her rival. Did she love Darcy as well? Why did she seem to know so much more about him? Or perhaps she was merely friendly, even sisterly in the absence of Jane? Maybe Caroline could see clearer than Elizabeth did on the subject, as it seems had always been the case.
“Think about what I have said.” Caroline stood. “Eat something. If you would like, in the morning I could send for Jane or Miss Lucas. You should have some company you prefer.”
Elizabeth did not miss the brittle smile and look of regret that glossed over Caroline’s features.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “Both for the words and your friendship. I will think about what you said.”
Caroline’s smile brightened. “See that you do,” she added softly before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.
Regret had filled Elizabeth since the moment she discovered Darcy’s departure. She had spent the day thinking only of her own pain. However, before the steam dissipated from her untouched teacup, Elizabeth realised how justified Darcy’s actions were.
Although she could not name the moment she began to love Mr. Darcy—for that was why she wished to be a good wife—she now recognised that all her actions were selfish. She had believed she was thinking of his happiness. He deserved a loving wife who doted on him. However, feeling broken and insecure, she could not swallow her selfishness and pride to ask Darcy how she could best display her feelings. Early in their acquaintance, she had many suppositions about how a gentleman ought to speak and behave. Once married, she allowed assumptions about wifely conduct to guide her.
Elizabeth’s vanity surged to the front, defending her errors. Was he not guilty, too? He should not have left without speaking to her. He had promised to always be there and to be patient! However, love for him soon made her see reason. True, Darcy had not been any more open than she had about their situation. He had made the first step, though, in confessing his feelings. Indeed, until he left her side without a word, Elizabeth had thought he was completely faultless—a fact that had made her feel nervous and undeserving. Now perhaps they were on more equal footing. But no, they were not. He had been seeing to her needs for weeks; she had been oblivious to his.
As mistaken as he might have been to flee from her rather than keep his promise to wait out her mourning, it only made him dearer to her. She did not want to love a saint. However, a real man with genuine vulnerabilities—for she readily believed it to be insecurity which had made him leave—seemed in need of her love, such as it was. Of course, she did not know when he would return and how she could make it all up to him.
The following day, Elizabeth ventured to leave her room after breakfast. She was just searching out Miss Bingley and found her in the drawing room when the butler announced the arrival of the post. Having a letter from her aunt Gardiner, Elizabeth determined to read it before discussing Darcy with her hostess.
Praying she would find so
me sort of guidance in her aunt’s words, Elizabeth returned to her chamber for privacy. Once there, she ripped it open without hesitation.
Dearest Lizzy,
I hope this letter finds you well. I hesitated to reply earlier as we wanted to be sure we would not be required to come and assist with the moving process. However, I have had a long letter from Jane telling me how well everyone is getting on and shorter letters from the other girls filled with only minor complaints, so I feel we must have got the whole picture. My sister also sends her words of approval—so altered she is!
Many thanks to your husband for arranging the whole thing with as little inconvenience to us as possible. Your uncle would have dropped everything to be there for you all, you know, but he has had an influx of orders just now (again, I suppose due to your husband). Your uncle could never have found such a large house to support your mother and sisters. It is a relief to us both that Mr. Darcy handled matters so swiftly and delicately, and we have no doubt about your care as well. We were just saying the other day that for as much as Darcy was a stranger to us before your father’s illness, we could not imagine a gentleman we trust so entirely as your husband.
Now, to the point of my letter. You have asked if Mr. Darcy came to some arrangement with your uncle regarding your younger sisters. They did, and I am not at liberty to say much else. Mr. Darcy made it clear that he did not wish to have it be common knowledge and was most stern in his desire to keep it known from you. As you had already guessed the matter, I do not feel any trepidation in confirming it. However, we will not discuss amounts. I will only say that your husband saw fit to double the portion your uncle determined upon.
I do not know if this knowledge will make you think even higher of Mr. Darcy. I think it is safe to say that he would not want you to alter your opinion of him based on this action. However, considering your other questions to me regarding the nature of romantic love, I will write frankly.
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