Darcy continued to regard me and only broke his gaze when the door opened, and the footman entered with the tea things. I sighed in relief to see him. Tea was welcome after a long, cold journey, and it saved me a conversation that made me feel embarrassed, something I was not used to feeling. I found I did not care for it.
My new husband was quiet as we drank our tea. I could tell by the set of his brow he was lost in thought, but whatever it was, he did not see fit to share it. Did he think less of me for being so naïve and inexperienced? The idea that he considered me a fool troubled me more than anything else. I had long prided myself on my wit as did my father. That this man I disliked should see me as some slow-witted country fool rankled. I drank my tea almost angrily as I pondered what thoughts might be going through that handsome head and scolded myself for caring. What need did I have for Mr Darcy's regard? Even if he was my husband, I did not care for him. I would not fall into the trap of pandering for his approval no matter how lonely I felt.
"Shall I cut you some cake, sir?" I asked a little tartly when the silence lingered more than I cared for.
"Hmm?" Mr Darcy blinked, and it took him some effort to climb out of the brown study he had fallen into.
I gestured towards the plates. "Surely it is my duty as mistress of the house to serve my husband?"
Darcy covered his mouth with his hand for a moment. When he removed it, he looked as stern as ever.
"Yes. Thank you." He lapsed into silence again. I tried not to watch him as he took the plate and crumbled some rich fruit cake to one side. A few times, I caught what was almost a brief flicker of a smile, but it disappeared in a moment.
"When shall we receive visitors?" I asked.
He dragged himself back to the room with me. "Visitors? I did not think you would like to entertain visitors until you had grown more accustomed to your new role."
I flushed. "It is customary for people to wait on a new bride, is it not?" Did he think I would disgrace him? Would I embarrass him in front of his fine London friends? Well, he need have no fear of that. Whatever flaws my mother had, she at least always took care that we should know everything about running a house. And no matter what these fine ladies thought of me, they would not intimidate me.
"Yes, of course. I only thought — if you are sure — I am sure the Bingleys will be happy to call on you."
I could not resist a smile at that.
"Have you informed them of your marriage?"
"I have."
"And they wished you joy?"
"Yes, Bingley praised my choice of bride and said he was convinced of us being very happy together."
Darcy raised his eyes to meet mine.
"Hence the subterfuge," I said wryly.
"Indeed."
"And how did Miss Bingley take the news?" I tried to look innocent, but I couldn't think of the lady's reaction without smiling. It would enrage her that such a prize as Mr Darcy had slipped through her fingers and thrown himself away on a poor country nobody. Little would she know she might have been welcome to have him.
"She also sent her congratulations," said Darcy in such a cautious tone that I could not resist leaning forward.
"Come, I must know. What did she say?"
"She was — she was rather astonished. She confessed she would never have considered a match between us."
I laughed at that. "I am sure the thought of our marriage never entered the head of any living soul."
Darcy's long fingers played at the crumbs on his plate as he cleared his throat.
"I am sure she and Mrs Hurst will visit to pay their respects. When they come, other visitors will follow."
"Well, we shall have to make sure we play the part of the devoted couple, shall we not?"
"We shall."
14
After we had eaten, Darcy insisted on showing me over the rest of the house himself. I gazed at the luxurious carpets, the mouldings, the tasteful decorations and exquisite paintings of long-gone members of the Darcy family and tried not to look too awed as I collected that I was now mistress of all this. These rooms were now my own and would soon grow as familiar to me as Longbourn. Would they soon feel like home? Would I return from a long day in London and feel my heart gladden at the sight of the familiar sitting room Darcy informed me had been his mother’s favourite? Or would I always experience this strange sensation of being in the wrong place?
“And this is your room.” Darcy pushed the carved doors open and stood back to allow me to enter. I gazed in admiration at the pale yellows and creams. A splendid poster bed dominated the room, and a cheerful fire already roared in the hearth. My feet sank into the carpet as I walked towards the window and looked out over the small garden in the centre of the square.
On the street below, a young couple walked arm in arm. The man bent his head to say something to the woman, and she giggled with an ease I envied. He drew her to him for a swift kiss, and when they parted, it was only slightly as they remained as close as they dared. I could not help smiling at their joy.
“I hope you like it,” said Darcy. I spun around, having almost forgotten he was there. His voice was hesitant.
“Of course. How could anyone not like it?”
“You may, of course, decorate it any way you see fit.”
“Any way?” I raised an eyebrow. “I have always loved sickly green walls. Perhaps a tavern theme would look elegant…”
Darcy smiled. “I shall leave it to your judgment and wait with bated breath for the result.” He nodded towards a door on the opposite side of the bed. “There is the dressing room. Until you appoint your own maid, my sister’s will attend you.”
“Miss Darcy will not mind?”
Darcy frowned. “Why should she mind?”
I hesitated. I came very close to mentioning what Wickham had said about Georgiana Darcy; that she was proud and cold like her brother. I could not imagine such a lady would be happy to share her maid with anyone, especially a new sister. I shook my head.
“Thank you. That will serve. Would you mind if I summoned her now?”
Darcy raised his eyebrows.
“I am tired,” I explained. “It has been a very long day. I thought I might retire early.”
Darcy did not look pleased.
“If you wish. But dinner will be served soon.”
“I am not hungry.”
“No, but —“ He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “But our staff may wonder why we do not dine together our first night as husband and wife.”
I groaned inwardly. I felt the first faint throbbing of a headache approaching after the emotional upheaval of the day, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up in cool sheets and sleep and just for a few blissful hours forget about this strange situation.
“Very well…”
Darcy still looked displeased but something about my face made him soften.
“Are you unwell?” He asked. “You look rather pale.”
I shook my head.
“It is nothing. Just a headache. I am prone to them sometimes.”
15
Darcy
My wife’s eyes were red as she stood across from me. She looked so pale and slight standing there that I longed to take her in my arms. This was not how I imagined the night of our wedding.
“I will come for dinner,” she said. “But I must retire afterwards.”
I checked my watch.
“I would not wish you to trouble yourself,” I said. “If you are unwell, you must lie down. Excuse me. I will send for your maid.”
I bowed and left the room before I crossed the room and held her in earnest.
I sent word for Kate to attend Mrs Darcy then I summoned my own valet and ordered that dinner be cancelled. If I ate alone and claimed my wife was ill, even the dullest person would sense at once that something was amiss. My cook would be furious, but I could think of one way that would allow him to indulge me.
“Mrs Darcy and I have had a long day and wou
ld like to retire early,” I informed the footman. As I expected, a brief knowing smirk crossed his face, and he nodded.
“I understand, sir.”
I dismissed him and leaned back in my chair, my hands behind my head as I stared up at the ceiling. No, John did not understand at all. The night before me was very far from the one they expected for me. I winced as I imagined the whoops and jeers in the kitchen while my wife and I lay in separate rooms, a door closed between us.
Had I made a dreadful mistake? I was so desperate to have her, to stop her from being with a man who did not deserve a dog, never mind a woman like her, that I did not imagine what our life would be like. I never thought Elizabeth liked me so little. What if she never cared for me? The years ahead would be torture. To always have her within reach, knowing she was never mine. Knowing she married me because I was better than the alternative. I groaned and leaned forward on my desk, burying my face in my hands.
“Sir?”
I straightened up at once at the sound of my valet. Harry held my dressing gown over one arm, his face creased with concern.
“Are you well, sir?”
“Of course. Forgive me. It has been a long day.”
He smiled. “I remember my wedding day, sir. I was never so afraid in all my life, but it all went away when I saw my wife coming towards me. But I will never forget my tiredness afterwards. It is as if nervousness has carried the day and once it is over, all the exhaustion of the event crashes on us at once.”
“That is just how it is,” I agreed.
Harry chatted more as he prepared me for bed. I smiled and nodded and tried to look the happy groom, but my heart twisted with envy as he spoke of his love for his wife and their happy years together. Harry was the most fortunate man in the world, and he believed me to be likewise.
I heard a faint sound of water sloshing from the dressing room, and I realised Elizabeth was in there right now, bathing. All that separated us was that door. The thought of the sight that would greet me if I opened it filled me with such sharp longing that I had to turn away and pretend to consult some letters as Harry gathered my coats and boots. A faint scent of rosewater filtered under the door. This would be a difficult night.
“Harry, can you bring me some brandy?”
“Of course, sir. And some wine?”
I looked at him.
“For Mrs Darcy?” he suggested.
“Yes, of course. Thank you.”
I drank the brandy in one gulp as I heard the tormenting sounds of Elizabeth’s feet on the carpet and the faint swish of a flimsy garment. Kate would believe she was preparing Elizabeth for a night in my bed. How would she look right now with those glorious curls tumbling about her shoulders? And how the devil would I ever get any rest again knowing she was so close? Was this less torture than knowing she was married to Collins and enduring his rough embraces right now? Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew the answer was yes but at the heat flooding through me as my mind conjured up enchanting images of Elizabeth coming to my bed, her gown slipping over her shoulder, I was not so sure.
I paced the room for I do not know how long. I splashed my face with cold water then on impulse removed my shirt to splash the cool water over my chest and arms but it did little to reduce the heat I felt. I would get no rest tonight.
I shook my head to loosen the water droplets from my hair and turned to find a towel when the door between my room and the shared dressing room creaked. I froze in place, and my eyes fixed on the handle as it turned. The door opened, and my heart pounded at the sight of Elizabeth. She looked just as I pictured her, a loose gown hanging over one slim shoulder, her dark curls loose around her face, her feet bare. I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak, but the sight struck me dumb. Had she changed her mind and came to me after all?
She did not look at me at first, and she peered about the room. She turned her face in my direction and froze in horror when she saw me.
“Mr Darcy!” Her gaze dropped to my bare chest, and her face flushed a deeper red than I had ever seen it. She raised her eyes a moment later and appeared so flustered she could hardly speak. She shook her head and turned and fled from the room, closing the door behind her.
I stared at the spot where she had stood, feeling bewildered. What on earth had happened? Why did she seem so shocked? I looked around for my shirt and found it tossed over the back of a chair. I pulled it over my head, not caring that it immediately grew damp. I hurried across to the door and paused before knocking.
“Elizabeth, what is the matter?”
No response.
“May I come in?”
“I am going to bed now, sir,” came the strangled response. “I apologise for…”
“Elizabeth, may I see you?”
There was another pause then I heard the whisper of her feet on the carpet. She cleared her throat.
“You may come in.”
She had scarcely finished the sentence before I opened the door. She stood near the changing screen with a thick robe around her. Her hair was still loose, but she had pulled it behind her as if that made her any less bewitching. Her face still burned.
“What is the matter?” I asked.
Elizabeth’s fingers toyed with the edges of her robe, and she lifted her head defiantly though she still looked flushed.
“I wondered where the door in my dressing room led to, and I wished to investigate. You did not tell me our rooms are connected,” she said in a rush of indignation.
I frowned. “Forgive me, madam. But I did not know it was necessary. It is a common arrangement for the master and mistress rooms to be connected.”
“I did not know. My parents — well, I must ask for your forgiveness. I am sorry I intruded on you.” Her gaze dropped again, and I followed it. I had still been damp when I pulled the shirt on, and the neck was open.
“There is no need to apologise,” I said.
“You should have told me,” she burst out again. “I was bathing in here. I did not know you could walk in.”
“You are the one who walked in on me while I was washing. As you can see, I left you undisturbed.”
My wife tossed her head.
“I will sleep now. I ask that you do not disturb me again for the rest of the night.”
I stared at her in confusion that hardened into irritation.
“And I would ask you the same thing. As tonight has proven, I am the one in need of it.” I bowed. “Goodnight, madam.”
Elizabeth spun on her heel and slammed her bedroom door between us. I looked at it for a moment, then cursed and strode back to my room. I was tempted to slam the door in a childish pet, but I caught myself at the last minute.
How dare she treat me like some untrustworthy cad who would take advantage of her? How had she turned it around on me when she was the one who entered my room without knocking? How could she not know the arrangements of husband and wives rooms in a house like this? Was she such a child?
I turned to the table beside the fire and poured another glass of brandy that I consumed in one swallow. I had a wife who did not care for me and who did not understand the first thing about me. If I did not care for her, I would have found the situation far easier to endure, but as it was — I shook my head as I poured another measure into the large glass.
I had made a dreadful mistake in marrying Elizabeth.
16
The breakfast room appeared far too bright. I blinked as I stepped inside, cursing the streaming sunlight that for some perverse reason shone brighter today of all days.
“Good morning, sir,” said a tart voice.
I turned to see my wife already seated at the table. She held a cup of coffee in her hands, and she blew on it delicately as she observed me. A small plate of rolls and cheese sat before her.
“You slept rather late.”
I walked to the sideboard and piled a plate high with bread, sausages and hash. I gave the word to a footman to bring a far stronger cup of coffee, and then I j
oined my wife.
“Are you always in the habit of sleeping late?” she asked. She frowned and leaned closer. A look of disgust crossed her face, and she recoiled. “After a night of imbibing spirits,” she added.
“I had little sleep,” I replied as politely as I could while my head shrieked at me. The door opened as the footman returned with my coffee just in time to hear what I said. Despite wishing I could douse my aching head in cold water, I flashed her a smile and reached out to take her hand. She flinched at the contact but did not pull it away. “As you are well aware,” I said softly as if for her ears alone but sure to be heard by the servant.
Her eyes were flint-like, but she glanced at the footman’s direction and did not object though the flush on her cheeks would be sure to be seen by him as the blush of a very happy woman. I caressed her fingers as he placed the silver jug of that precious, life-saving liquid before me, and I continued to gaze at Elizabeth with the look of a besotted man.
A look she thought a performance.
A mischievous look crossed her face, and she sighed. Unlike me, her look was an act.
“Thank you, darling,” she whispered.
Though I knew she spoke in jest, my heart beat faster. If only we meant those words, how perfect everything would be.
The footman had scarcely left the room before she pulled her hand from mine. My hand closed over the space where her fingers had been before I withdrew and tried to appear unaffected.
“Did you drink all night?” she asked.
“Not all night, no,” I said as I poured the coffee.
“Because I do not like to think of it.”
A whisper of irritation flashed through me, and I laughed. “Come now, my dear. There are no servants present. There is no need for this display of wifely concern.”
“It is rather less than wifely concern for your benefit, sir. I do not wish to be married to a drunk, and I did not take you for one before we wed. If I had…”
“I am not a drunk, madam,” I snapped. “And I will thank you not to infer it.”
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