“The baby was born three weeks ago now. They named her Fiona Heather. Amelia says she resembles Stephen, but has her green eyes. Oh, what a wonder!” Lizzy sighed, reading on with a smile.
“The birth… Does she speak of it?”
Lizzy glanced over to see him serious with a hint of anxiety in his pale eyes. She squeezed his hand, smiling tenderly. “She is well, love. The birth was long, she writes, as is expected, but there were no complications. Do not worry so, William. Everything will be fine, I promise.”
He pressed his lips tightly together, jaw clenching, but he nodded and returned to his letter. At odd moments as the weeks advanced, Darcy would find his thoughts dwelling on the final birth process and possible emergencies. Lizzy was healthy and very strong, as was their child by all indications, but he knew well from stories and family traumas how horribly wrong it could end. The thought of losing their baby terrified him, but not nearly as much as losing Elizabeth.
A deep sigh from his wife interrupted the threatening stabs of fear. “I miss Amelia. I wish I could see her and the baby. Who knows when we will be able to travel again between winter and infants to care for?”
“We could visit on our way home, if you wish. Leicestershire is not far out of the way, and I am certain they would not mind.”
“Could we? Oh, William! That would be so wonderful! You are brilliant and far too good to me.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Thank you, dear, but I was only thinking of myself as Lathrop is the best billiard player after Hughes that I know.” He picked up Mr. Keith's missive, feigning indifference while Lizzy chuckled.
Mr. Keith's letter was brief, stating that all was well with harvest beginning as usual, sheep being prepared for market, and the horses all responding according to the breeding plans. Georgiana delivered a rambling dissertation of her adventures sans any mention of Lord Gruffudd now that they had left his vicinity of Wales, to Darcy's mumbled pleasure. His uncle had included a short paragraph stating that they expected to return by the second week of September. Mrs. Bennet gave a typically detailed commentary of the local gossip, some of which actually interested Lizzy, noting in passing that Mr. Bennet and Kitty were well. Charles declared that all was in hand with the plans for relocation, the actual move to take place mid-October.
After the letters were read and shared, Darcy turned to the newspaper. Even on holiday he could not eschew keeping abreast of current events and business affairs. This compulsion was not only due to years of habit but also an obligation related to his station and influence.
“Ah! Look here, love. An entire article on Miss van Lingen landing her balloon on Hampstead Heath. She landed safely, not precisely where she planned to in the vastness of the park, but close enough that the awaiting spectators and reporters could relocate. Excellent!”
That evening they dined with a company of guests. The food was excellent, as always, and the lively conversation enjoyable, especially to Lizzy. Darcy was reserved, as was typical, his contributions limited and mostly confined to discussions of politics with a new resident of the inn, a barrister named Spade, who sat next to him. Lady Underwood was dining as well, but thankfully for Darcy, sat at another table. Nonetheless, he was uncomfortable, her presence and noisy laugh constantly reminding him of events he wanted to forget.
After dinner scheduled entertainment was a chess tournament for the men, although two brave women insisted on playing, and a fashion exhibit for the ladies. Darcy nervously separated from his wife, unable to resist casting a cold, warning glance toward Lady Underwood. She smiled benignly, her eyes hard. Darcy's irritation and trepidation increased, but there was nothing he could do.
Three modistes from Yarmouth brought living models to show the latest styles from abroad. It was wonderful fun with tea and refreshments offered, animated banter, and many of the accessories available for purchase.
Lady Underwood sat near Lizzy, seemed to take a special interest in her, in fact. Lizzy was flattered and sensed nothing amiss, honestly delighting in the older woman's charm and wit. Despite the gap in their upbringing and age, Lizzy felt relaxed and accepted.
The segregated portion of the night passed swiftly for Lizzy, but Darcy had difficulty concentrating on his game. Lizzy anxiously awaited her husband's reappearance, yet was content for the time being, enjoying the conversation and female entertainment.
When the gentlemen began filing in as their games ended, Lizzy kept an eye on the door from her seat at the settee where Lady Underwood sat beside her. Darcy entered, eyes immediately scanning the room for his wife, spying her seconds before she glanced up. Lady Underwood was currently speaking, her visage gay as all hung on her every word, one hand lying lightly on Lizzy's forearm. Darcy froze, instant rage masked from all in the room behind his regulated façade. Lizzy glanced up, automatically issuing a dazzling smile that wilted moments afterward at the constrained thunder in his eyes.
He crossed the room with minimal strides, entire body tense, bowing curtly to the assembled ladies and offering a brisk preamble. “Pardon me, ladies. Mrs. Darcy, it is time for us to retire.” He held out his hand, Lizzy taking it with open mouth and scarlet cheeks. She murmured vague good nights, sensing Darcy's stress and impatience, further baffled and embarrassed by a brief but harsh glare directed at a triumphantly smirking Lady Underwood.
They did not speak until in their room. Darcy was seething and frantically wondering what he was to say to Lizzy after his precipitous rudeness. Lizzy was confused and worried and irritated all at once.
“William, what is the matter…?”
“Elizabeth,” he interrupted, vainly struggling to soften his tone. “Please forgive me for that. It was rude and ungentlemanly I know, but I could not bear to see her talking to you so intimately.”
“Who?”
“Lady Underwood.” He avoided her eyes, his rage so intense that he did not wish her witnessing it. “Promise me you will not speak with her further.”
“William, you are making no sense. Lady Underwood is a lovely person, kind and considerate, humorous and lively. She has done nothing untoward…”
He interrupted again with a barely controlled edginess, “Elizabeth, I will not discuss her attributes or character! I am ordering you to have no contact with her.”
“Ordering me?” This time it was Lizzy who interrupted, bristling and seriously vexed. “You have no right to speak to me thusly, William.”
“I am your husband, Mrs. Darcy, which gives me the right!” They glared at each other, anger in full sway on both sides with neither able to contain themselves.
“Is this how it is to be now? You barking commands without explanation? This is not like you, William. Tell me what is troubling you or I will make no promises of any kind.”
“You have already promised to obey, if you recall.” He flashed, immediately wincing inwardly.
She stared at him for a long while, Darcy sternly meeting her eyes but clearly deeply disturbed. “You are correct, Mr. Darcy, I did promise. I just never thought it would be lorded over me in such a manner.”
His face fell and he reached for her slack hands. “You must trust me in this, Elizabeth. I know what is best.”
His eyes were pleading, but she detected a distance not seen since long before their engagement. He was keeping a secret, she was sure of it, and the stab of pain to her heart was acute.
“I am going to change for bed,” she finally said, withdrawing her hands. “Excuse me.”
Darcy watched her leave, ripping at his choking cravat with a foul curse. “Blast, Darcy, you are a fool!” he muttered, throwing the unoffending neckcloth violently at the wall. He strode to her door, pausing at the last instant. Give it a moment, he thought, calm yourself and think!
He had worried so, not wishing to cause her pain by learning of Lady Underwood's advances. Yet he now suspected that his horrible actions had caused her far more pain than the simple truth. Furthermore, her comments strongly suggested that Lady Underwood
had said nothing untoward. He suddenly wondered if she had not cunningly schemed for his outburst, realizing that she need only sit near Elizabeth to rankle her protective husband.
He threw his body onto the chair, hands running angrily in his hair. Now he had to rectify the situation, find the words to apologize profusely and on bended knee if need be, and then tell her the truth. He groaned, absently unbuttoning and removing coats as his mind whirled.
Whether planned or not, his natural need to shield her from pain had aroused his temper, in turn inciting her ire, and the two of them had clashed. Why is it that she rendered him in all ways impetuous? It had always been so, from their first unruly tête-à-têtes at Netherfield to the wild abandon found in their bed. She unhinged him in all ways, his organized mind disheveled constantly by her wit and verve. His passionate nature was unleashed and reckless. His love for her so consuming that rational thought flittered away with the supreme desire to please her and care for her.
He had asked her to trust him and knew that ultimately she would, without further questions. But he had seen the hurt in her eyes and knew it was borne of his distrust in sharing with her, not in the rude command. The wall thrust between them must be destroyed. He sighed, bending to remove his shoes and stockings.
She returned at that moment, hair braided rather than loose and wearing a plain gown with thick robe belted tight. She did not glance in his direction, but walked with lifted chin and stately poise to the bed. Darcy could not help but smile at her fire and not-so-subtle hints.
“Elizabeth, my love,” he began.
“I am tired, Mr. Darcy. Good night.” Her voice was firm, vexation apparent.
He paused, watching her roughly fluff the pillow and draw the blankets. Softly he spoke, “Remember how I told you once that women would offer themselves to me? Offers I never accepted, but grew somewhat accustomed to nonetheless?” She did not answer, but had stilled with her back yet to him. He swallowed and resumed, “Lady Underwood extended such an invitation to me, several times.” Another pause followed by a deep sigh as he leaned back in the chair. “I should have told you and been honest, but I did not wish to ruin our holiday. I was in error. Please forgive me?”
Lizzy clutched the sheet, not turning. “How did it occur? What did she say?”
“The particulars are not important…”
“They are to me! What happened?”
Her voice was cold as Darcy had never heard it. He frowned but answered her. When he finished, she stood silently for a handful of minutes, the sheet edge crinkled under a white-knuckled fist. His frown deepened and he sat forward, opening his mouth to speak when she abruptly spun about. Her countenance was flushed with a rage he had never witnessed, not even at Kent. Eyes practically shooting sparks, she stormed to where he sat, Darcy involuntarily gripping the chair arms and sinking into the cushions by the force of her anger. She stopped before him, swaying slightly and leaning into his stunned face.
“Do not ever keep such secrets from me, Fitzwilliam Darcy!”
He nodded, but she was already moving away, striding vigorously toward the door in a manner vaguely familiar. It was just like him! Having no idea what she was thinking but truly fearful at the fury evident in every particle of her body, he jumped up and trailed after. The door was opening before he reached her, Darcy lunging forward and slamming it shut with one hand high over her head.
“Elizabeth, where…?”
“Out of my way, William!”
“No. I will not allow you to leave so angry and dressed like this. We must discuss this.”
She pivoted, one hand still on the knob and pulling futilely against his superior strength, meeting his eyes with defiance. “She touched my husband! Pretended to be my friend while laying hands on you! She demanded to… to…” Lizzy spluttered shrilly, waving her free hand briskly in the general region of his front side, “know you in the Biblical sense!”
Darcy fisted his free hand over the smile threatening to break forth as he coughed on the laugh that erupted. Lizzy's eyes narrowed dangerously.
“If you dare to laugh, William, I will hurt you! This is not at all humorous. If the situation were reversed, I know quite well how you would handle it! Pity there is not a sword or pistol about.” And she actually visually scanned the room as if expecting and praying a rapier would materialize.
“Elizabeth, forgive me. You are right. This is not humorous. However, you are overreacting just a bit. Nothing occurred, naturally…”
“I know that!” she snapped, rolling her eyes and piercing him with a look of utter contempt. “I trust your fidelity, William, if not your reasoning and faith in trusting me!”
“I am not so sure my reasoning was flawed, considering your present irrationality.”
She opened her mouth for a sharp retort and then clamped it shut as the partial truth of his softly spoken words penetrated her brain. Her eyes lowered and body relaxed into the solid door, finally releasing her tight grip on the knob. Not trusting her compliance completely, Darcy remained leaning into the door, sizeable frame dwarfing hers.
“How can a woman be so bold and… devious and immoral? Not that I cannot understand her excellent taste,” she whispered, glancing up into his face. Her cheeks were ruddy, anger still evident by the fiery glints deep in her eyes.
“That is kind of you, Elizabeth. But I do not think such women are overly particular.” He sighed. “I should have trusted you with the truth from the beginning, then we both could have avoided her and diverted this argument. You are justified to be vexed with me.”
“Yes, I am vexed with you!” She flared anew, stalking past him to commence pacing and shooting daggers his direction. “And I am not overreacting in the slightest. Again and again she accosted you, these… advances occurring where anyone could have seen. And while I was pathetically unaware! You allowed me to pursue a friendship with her, knowing her character and what she had attempted with my husband. Do you not see what a fool this makes me? How she must be laughing at the stupid little girl? The pathetic child with the faithful husband who treats her as an infant.”
“Do you honestly care what she thinks of you?”
“No! Yes! A little. That is not the point. Do you not see, William? Either what we have together is special and plainly revealed to all, or it is a lie. I do care what you think of me! No secrets, remember?”
“Yes,” he whispered miserably.
“I am not a child. Nor a toy that you can play with and show off as your own personal property to protect and not treat with respect and equality.”
“You know I do not think that,” he began, but she continued as if he had not spoken.
“And why is it that you consider it your right to dash off risking your life to defend your claim and my honor, but I cannot do the same? Your possessiveness is not a mutually exclusive privilege, William. You belong to me as surely, and I am equally furious to think of another seducing what is mine! Yet, as offended as I am, what I cannot believe is that you would shield me in this way.”
“Elizabeth, please, I am deeply sorry!”
“I know you are, William.” She stopped pacing, suddenly weary and weak. “I also know you meant well, only wishing to spare me pain because of your love for me. I am naïve in so many ways and perhaps not fully capable of handling such things. But I never will learn if you do not trust me! Your job as my husband is not to screen me from life so that I do not mature in wisdom.”
They stood in silence, eyes downcast as they wrestled with thoughts and emotions. Darcy was ashamed, recognizing the truth of all her words although he could not honestly imagine relinquishing the fundamental need to protect her from all pain or harm. Lizzy was mainly tired, yet a vivid vision of ripping Lady Underwood's hair out lingered.
“Have there been other propositions?” She spoke quietly, staring at the floor.
He looked quickly to her averted face, shaking his head vigorously as he rapidly crossed to her. “No others since long before we we
re engaged, beloved. But it does not matter in any case.” He reached to clasp her shoulders but was halted when she lifted fierce eyes.
“It matters to me! I need to know if there are other 'friends' of mine who have privately desired or even unashamedly attempted to make love to my husband.” Her voice caught on the final words, tears springing to blazing eyes.
Darcy studied her with deep remorse and concern. Her countenance was yet smoldering with resentment but also quite pale and pinched. She looked so fatigued and drained. Overcome with guilt and with heart constricting, he lifted gentle fingertips to her wan cheek, caressing slowly.
“We cannot control what others may muse on, beloved. I, however, can and should control my actions with improved wisdom. I made a horrible mistake in doubting your understanding. Will you please pardon me?”
“You are twice the fool if you honestly fear I would not forgive you any misstep,” she countered with some asperity.
And then with a weak smile she fell onto his chest, Darcy embracing her tenderly yet with steely strength. All night he held her close, dozing lightly as he preferred to gaze on her face in the moonlight, noting the ease relaxing her facial muscles and the increasing health filling her cheeks as she slept. In the darkest hours of the night, it was Lizzy who roused and reached for her drowsy husband, pulling his body and lips onto hers. They made love in the shadows, dreamily bonding and stimulating with remaining four senses leading and heightened.
It was while Darcy waited patiently for his wife to join him in their chamber to descend for breakfast that Lizzy slipped out a side door on a mission of her own. She had slept well and her heart was whole. She understood Darcy's reasoning for maintaining his silence, and she did appreciate the compassion that drove him even if she did not agree with the decision. Hopefully he now recognized the reality that honesty and full disclosure between them was essential, even at the risk of hurt feelings.
Lady Underwood was another matter. Her anger toward that lady had simmered all night even in her dreaming state. There was no excuse, in Lizzy's eyes, for a woman to act in such a way. There were plenty of unattached men in the world for her to fraternize with, as disgusting and immoral as even that activity was to Lizzy. Yet certainly better than enticing married gentlemen, especially after they made it perfectly clear they were uninterested. Depravity warped into pure evil when one considered her threats to Darcy and counterfeit amiability toward Lizzy. This was not a lonely woman seeking comfort and companionship. This was a wicked narcissist bent on destruction.
My Dearest Mr. Darcy Page 19