I turned to look at him in surprise, some of my earlier pique draining away.
“Thank you. That is very kind.”
Darcy smiled though there was a grim look in his eyes. “When I compare them to how my aunt behaved yesterday, I wonder how anyone can think breeding is a matter of birth.”
I was so surprised I laughed. “Are you becoming a revolutionary?”
“Well, I would not go that far. I am merely reconsidering some old beliefs. My aunt has all the breeding in the world, yet she behaved disgracefully. She, and indeed I until recently, would have looked down on your family for their connections to trade. Yet I conversed with more pleasure with your uncle than with anyone I have encountered at my aunt’s house. Or with most of the people, I must invite to my tables. They are excellent, worthy, sensible people. I will be happy to know more of them.”
“I am gratified to hear you say so. They are very important to me.”
“Then they are important to me too.”
We travelled back the rest of the way in silence, but I felt a little more at ease.
39
It was time for us to travel to Pemberley. Though I was sorry to leave London and the easy distance to my aunt and uncle’s house, I was eager to see my new home, a place I had heard so much about.
Darcy demurred when I asked him if Georgiana were to join us.
“I would like us to be alone for a few weeks before she comes,” he said. “She will come home for Christmas so it will not be so long.”
I nodded, feeling odd about the plan. An ungenerous part of me felt relieved that we would leave Amelia behind. Darcy had encountered her and her boy in the park several times, and I had had to sit by while he and William played together. I had endured several of Amelia’s hints that Darcy and William were alike until I found I could not look at her. I suspected she wished to rattle me and make me feel unwelcome, yet she said nothing of which I could complain. Much as I hated to deprive a boy of his father, I was happy to think I could enjoy Darcy’s company without worrying about his feelings for another woman.
I left the house to go for a walk for a few hours for some much needed time alone. Darcy had been about to argue with me, but something in my face stopped him. He nodded when I told him my intention.
“I suppose it is the last of London you shall see for quite some time,” he said. He smiled. “I know you miss the woods and hills around Longbourn. Pemberley will provide all you can wish for and more. Enough to satisfy even your enthusiasm for them, Elizabeth.”
“I look forward to seeing it,” I said vaguely.
I walked without knowing where I went until I found myself near Conduit Street, where Amelia lived. I glanced up at her house and turned away for fear I might see her. No doubt she would make an excuse to visit our home later, but I did not wish to spend more time in her company than I had to. And I knew if William saw me and begged me to come in, I could not resist him. He was a darling little boy. I often thought I would find it far easier to endure my husband having another child if his mother was not a woman who made me question her motives.
I turned down the next street, hoping to take a short path to the park. I had never come this way before and when I thought myself very clever for taking a side street which I was sure would have me emerge right beside the park, I instead was turned around and found myself in an area with shabby boarding houses. The streets were unpaved and muddy, and though the people did not look unfriendly, their eyes followed me and more than one looked me up and down, taking in my fine dress and expensive boots. I clutched my reticle and walked faster with my head high. Darcy would not be happy if he knew I was in such a place. I could not tell if I was walking further away from my destination or coming closer. I turned to retrace my steps. I was not about to get lost just to avoid the smirking face of my husband’s previous mistress. I kept my head high so I could look anyone else in the eye, feeling loathe to allow anyone to think I was intimidated. As I passed a tavern, I glanced at it when I caught a sight that made my heart skip.
A man stood on the other side of the road, looking as though he had just emerged from a shabby boarding house. He was examining something in his hands; a note, perhaps. There was a slight smile on his face. As I watched those broad shoulders, I was struck with their familiarity. But who could I know in this part of London? He turned his head slightly towards me, giving me a better look at his face. My heart skipped again.
Wickham! It had to be him. I could not see him entirely, but something about his air and demeanour made me sure I was looking at the man who had fascinated me until very recently. My heart beat faster. Before I knew what I was doing, I gathered my skirts and stepped out onto the muddy street.
Someone yelled. I glanced up in alarm just in time to see a cart careening towards me. I jumped back onto the path, my heart in my mouth, as it tumbled by. My lack of attention could have gotten me killed. I drew a deep breath, my hand on my chest to calm myself as a few women emerged from their houses to see what had happened. Two of them clustered around me to offer me tea and scold me gently for my carelessness. I smiled and demurred their offers, assuring them again and again that I was fine and that I would be more careful from now on.
When they finally left me be, I looked up eagerly. The ladies had blocked my view across the street, but now I could see Wickham was no longer there. I looked up and down the long road, feeling sure he could not have walked so fast, but there was no sign of him. I stood rooted to the spot as if he might appear if I kept watching, but there was nothing.
Perhaps it had not been him. I had barely seen him. Why would he be in London, anyway? He was in Hertfordshire, and I am sure my sisters would not have allowed him out of their sights. Lydia had written me several very short and poorly written letters telling me of all the occasions she had danced with him and how often he complimented her. From the tone of her words, I suspected she considered them all but engaged. I doubted he returned the sentiment. Lydia told me she was sure I was jealous of her, but I had no right to be with my wealthy husband and my fine clothes and jewels. Though I felt a strange sensation when she mentioned Wickham, I had concluded that I did not care for him, per se. It was more what he represented; the hope of a man who would be a true match and husband for me. Wickham himself did not feel like such a terrible loss.
I never referred to Wickham when I replied so Lydia had been most persistent in trying to convince me they were all but engaged. Perhaps I should write and give her the satisfaction of mentioning him, and she might stop trying to tease me about him? No, knowing Lydia that would only make her worse. And if I wrote and asked her if he was in London, I would never hear the end of her teasing.
Besides, it was probably not him at all. I stopped in the street again and looked behind me. There was no one there I could have even mistaken for Wickham, and if he were to come to London, Lydia would be sure to tell me. No, I must have imagined it. I saw a stranger who, from a certain angle, merely reminded me of him. It was no more than that. I retraced my steps towards Darcy House before my husband could grow too concerned for me.
40
The entire staff of Pemberley stood on the steps to greet us as the carriage drew closer. My husband handed me out and pressed my fingers as I stepped forward.
“Do not be nervous,” he whispered his voice a low growl in my ear, causing me to shiver involuntarily. “They are all disposed to like you. They have wanted me to marry for years.”
The housekeeper, a motherly lady, called Mrs Reynolds, smiled at me as she offered to show me over the house. My husband refused.
“I will do that, Mrs Reynolds,” he said. He looked down at me with a smile. “I have looked forward to showing Mrs Darcy around Pemberley as its mistress ever since we first danced together at Netherfield.”
The young women among the staff almost swooned with delight at his words. I smiled back at him though I would sooner have upbraided him for his lies. It sometimes gave me cause for concern that my husb
and could lie so comfortably. He had no more thought of me as mistress of Pemberley than he thought of Miss Bingley. If he could lie to others so easily, what lies had he told me? What would I discover about him, and how would I cope if it led to my hurt?
“We can rest for a while if you prefer?” he asked me as he led me by the hand into the house. He rarely offered me his arm in company as was traditional among gentleman escorting ladies. He always kept my hand enclosed in his as though we were young sweethearts. This was no different.
“I am not tired,” I said. “I would not rest much, anyway. My curiosity to see the house and grounds would prevent me from closing my eyes.”
Darcy’s eyes were warm as he looked down at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two young maids nudge one another with enormous smiles. They were certainly enthusiastic about their master’s show of affection for his new wife.
“I thought as much,” he said.
Though he had dismissed the servants from accompanying us with a quiet word, he kept my hand in his as we walked along the long gallery. Centuries of Darcy portraits lined the walls, but I only searched for one. I paused in front of a large painting of Mr Darcy. The date told me it had been done three years before. I stood back to gaze up at it. There was a smile over his face that he often wore when he looked at me.
The original stood quietly beside me.
“Does it please you?” he asked.
“It does.” I looked at my husband’s handsome face. “It is an excellent likeness.”
“I should like to have one of you,” he said. “I know I offered to have one taken of your father, but I would very much like to have yours. Have you had your likeness taken before?”
I laughed though I blushed a little. “Never. Well, Mary took it into her head that she would be an artist some years ago and she insisted we all sit for her. But I am afraid either her work was woeful, or I am not as comely as I have been led to believe. The result was hideous.”
“I would not like to disparage your sister’s talents, but if the picture was hideous, it could only be her fault,” said Darcy gallantly. He led me by the hand to the window. The aspect was stunning. Green parkland swept in rolling grades down towards rich woodland. A little copse of trees sat on the lawn surrounded by a bed of what would be wildflowers in the spring. “I have a fancy to have your likeness taken out there,” he said, nodding towards the trees. “When I think of you, I see you surrounded by nature. I want the sun to capture the chestnut in your hair. It will stand in Pemberley for generations, so I want it to be of you as you are, not as a stiff and formal subject. Our great-great-grandchildren in one hundred and two hundred years will know the woman you were. Will you indulge me?”
My heart rose to my mouth as he spoke. He sounded like a man besotted. He sounded like a man in love.
“If it pleases you,” I said. I kept my eyes fixed on the view, afraid to look at me. My voice was almost a whisper.
“Nothing would please me more,” he said. There was a slight hesitancy in his voice. “And if you will allow it, I would like a miniature of you. Something I can carry with me. I do not intend to be away from home much, but I would like to have my wife’s likeness on my person when I am.”
“Of course,” I said quietly. I swallowed, feeling suddenly emotional. Perhaps I was more tired from the journey than I realised. I turned to him and smiled gamely. “Come, you must show me the rest of the house.”
The mistress suites were in a similar style to my rooms in London though much grander. There was also an interconnecting door between the two rooms. I blushed to look at it, recalling once again the morning when Darcy had kissed me, and I had almost come undone.
“I shall not disturb you unless you want me to,” said Darcy. He stood on the rug before the fire with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked a little uncomfortable. I was sure he was thinking about that morning. “If you need anything, Mrs Reynolds will be happy to assist you. She will help you while you find your feet as mistress. You can rely on her.”
“I am sure I can,” I said. I walked over to the dresser and touched the cosmetics laid out there. I was surprised to see some of my favourites among them. A bookcase lined the walls. The paint on it was fresh. I walked over to examine it, feeling a thrill as I touched the book spines.
“These are my favourites,” I said with delight.
“I wrote ahead to Mrs Reynolds to see you were supplied with your favourites,” Darcy explained. “I wanted you to have everything you needed to make you more comfortable. I had a bookcase set up here for you so you might always have what you want to hand.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” I said. “I confess, I had not thought of that. Thank you, Darcy.” I turned back to the case and let out a delighted squeal, most unbecoming for the mistress of such a grand estate as Pemberley. “The second edition of The Mysteries of Heidel Abbey! I did not know it was yet available.”
Warmth rushed over me, and I glanced to see Darcy standing at my shoulder. He leaned over me to examine the book. I found it hard to concentrate when he was so close behind me, towering over me. He tilted his head and smiled.
“I wrote to the publisher and arranged that they would send the first copy off the press to us. I am as eager to read it as you are.”
“And you are allowing me to have it first? You are a far better person than I am. I could not be so generous.” I flipped through the first few pages and smiled up at him. I glanced down at the cherished pages again, and my heart lifted. On the title page was a note.
“To my darling extensive reader, may this book bring you as much joy and happiness to your life as you have brought to mine. Your husband, FD.”
Something caught in my throat. I read the words repeatedly as they echoed in my mind. Joy and happiness. Had I really brought that to Darcy’s life or was this another performance? Did he really feel that way about me? I ran my hands over the letters, imagining him leaning over it to write those sweet words that must have come hard to such a reserved man.
“Do you like it?” Darcy’s voice was quiet. I forced myself to meet his eyes. His jaw was set as though he braced himself for something, but his eyes were wide and almost vulnerable.
“I love it. How could I not? You know me better than I realised.”
Until Darcy’s shoulders slumped, I had not realised how tense they were. His dimple flashed.
“That should be no surprise. It has been my delight to study you these past months of our acquaintance. You are not the only one who enjoys studying characters. I have just been lost in contemplating one in particular.”
My neck felt warm. I tried to look away again, but I found it difficult to tear my eyes away. His dark ones arrested me and held me. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but I was too afraid to ask. He was the man who wrote beautiful words and played the part of the devoted husband to such perfection that I found I wanted to believe he meant it. But he was also the man who had recoiled from me as though horrified and who made it clear from our early acquaintance that he did not like me and thought little of me. Who could understand such a man? If we were not married, I would have been my usual forthright self and asked him directly and unflinchingly. But now I was bound to this man for life and found my heart belonged to him, the stakes felt too high. I was not sure how I would recover if he rejected me. I was a coward in matters of the heart.
“You are a better studier of character than I am,” I said softly. “You can work me out, but I am still sometimes bewildered by you.”
“Why should you be? I thought I made my feelings and desires clear over the previous weeks. Can you still…”
I held my breath as he spoke, but he broke off and frowned. My heart sank until I realised he was listening to something. His face lit up with a smile, and he strode towards the dressing room door. I stared after him in confusion until I heard what had captured his attention. A small scratching sound came from the other side.
“What on earth is that?”
I asked.
“A special gift to welcome you to Pemberley. I had Mrs Reynolds arrange it.”
He opened the dressing room door. At first, I could see nothing. Then a high pitched little sound and a black and white blur scampered into the room, leaping at Darcy in joy. I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands, overcome with love for the little thing at once. I hurried towards them and knelt on the ground so the puppy could climb into my lap, covering my face with kisses. I tugged at his silky fur and kissed the furry little head, unable to keep the smile from my face.
“He is beautiful,” I cried. “Is he to be mine?”
“He is. I know it is more common for ladies to have small lapdogs, but with your penchant for walking, I thought a more active dog would suit you better. My groundskeeper said a collie would be ideal. Do you like him?”
“I love him. What is his name?”
“That is for you to decide.”
I cuddled the little dog as he squirmed in my arms, a joyful little bundle of fur. Something in my heart released as I held him. Here was a little being I could love without reservation or fear. My heart swelled.
“I will call him Udolpho,” I said. I cast a mischievous look up at my husband. He was watching us together, and his smile was soft.
“Udolpho. I like it. I could not have chosen better myself. And are you happy he is a collie? I know he is not fashionable…”
I scoffed and hugged Udolpho to me once again.
“When have I ever cared for what is fashionable? You should know me better than that. No, he is perfect for me. I could not have asked for better. He will have the stamina to explore with me. You have proven to know me very well yet again, sir.”
Darcy held out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me to his feet. He took the puppy from my arms. Udolpho nuzzled against his face, making him laugh. I smiled. Only a few months ago, I would have found it impossible to imagine the staid Mr Darcy playing with a puppy. He seemed like a much younger man. Or perhaps he had always seemed older than his age of eight and twenty years.
Prevailed Upon to Marry Page 19