A Life Apart: A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Harriet Knowles

  He frowned down at her. “I think that you, too, were placed under a very much unwanted obligation, Elizabeth.” He turned away again. “If the marriage is annulled as you wish — if it even can be — you will have the same difficulties as before. You will be unable to go home, unable to make your way in society.”

  He hoped he was keeping the pain out of his voice. “I would be less able to help you in case of need.”

  She was looking down. He could see the tension in her tightly clasped hands.

  “Perhaps we should return to the house.” He could barely keep the finality out of his voice. But he must see his steward — and the housekeeper. Why was Elizabeth so afraid of remaining at Pemberley?

  “Of course, Mr. Darcy.” She stood up and reached for her coat.

  He was most uncomfortable driving back to the house; the phaeton was too small for him to be able to keep a reasonable distance between them. Her nearness to him was befuddling his senses, he could not think of any reasonable way of convincing her that he wanted her as his wife, wanted her beside him, always.

  But first, he must do all he could to find out what was causing her such fear of staying at Pemberley.

  Back at the house, he bowed to her in the hall. “Please excuse me, madam. I have a few matters of business to attend to.”

  She curtsied. “I thank you for the visit to the hothouse, sir. It is a delightful place, but I would not keep you further from your business affairs this morning.”

  He watched her as she turned for the drawing room, wondering what she would do now. He had almost thought she would retire to her bedchamber, hide away for a time.

  He frowned, he had a task to perform. He nodded to the footman. “Ask Mrs. Reynolds to come to the office, please.”

  In the estate office, he paced up and down until the housekeeper arrived.

  She curtsied, and he nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. I wish to ask you something which is troubling me.” He stopped, wondering how to phrase his question.

  He sat in the chair behind the desk, and looked up at the woman. “Mrs. Darcy has not spoken of it, but there seems to be something that is making her fearful here at Pemberley.” He watched her expression carefully. “Is there anything — or any person — you can think of, that might be distressing her here? I do not know whether it is in the house or the grounds, but I am determined to find out what is causing her such alarm.”

  Mrs. Reynolds was looking anxious and surprised. She shook her head. “I am most distressed at this news, sir. I cannot think of anything at all that might be pertinent to this.” She shook her head. “She is never alone with any servant — except in the main rooms where the doors are open, and I am always walking through.”

  “What about upstairs?” Darcy asked. “Who maintains the fixtures in the bedchambers?” He could not imagine a single servant who would risk their position here, but something was frightening her, and until he discovered what it was, he might never persuade her to stay here.

  “There is never anyone up there when Mrs. Darcy is, except her maid and the upstairs chambermaids,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “I will speak to the chief chambermaid directly, sir, and discover if there is anything she might know.” She wrung her hands. “Poor Mrs. Darcy!”

  He nodded. “Make your enquiries discreetly, Mrs. Reynolds, I would not have Mrs. Darcy’s concerns aired among the rest of the servants.” He sat forward. “And send Mr. Reed to me, I must find out about the grounds, if it is there that her fear arises.”

  Mrs. Reynolds curtsied. “At once, sir.”

  Chapter 39

  Elizabeth sat in the drawing room, rather dejected. She wondered what his business matters were. And she wondered why Mr. Darcy’s relations hadn’t yet taken more action to end their marriage. She was certain such action was coming.

  But she didn’t wish to ask him, he’d been so angry when the doctor had arrived and although he’d told her she had nothing further to worry about on that score, she had heard enough to know there was always another doctor who could be bought.

  She sighed. She might as well use this time she had to do another unpleasant duty. Her father had written to her again. He wrote regularly, each week, each time asking that she might write back and tell him she was well.

  She had never replied, never replied to Jane or her mother, hoping perhaps that they would leave her in peace. Her betrayal by them was still too bitter. Certainly, she never wished to be reconciled to her mother, whose letters were always full of her wish to visit Pemberley. She never asked Elizabeth how she was, just boasted about how much pin money she must have, how fine her gowns. As if that is all she would want from a marriage!

  Elizabeth’s lip curled. But she missed Jane very much indeed. If only she could meet a gentleman and marry, then it wouldn’t matter if Elizabeth’s marriage was annulled, Jane would be safe. And that was what really mattered.

  But Elizabeth couldn’t wait until then. Not now. It was not fair to her husband. And she herself was finding the lack of a final decision harder and harder to bear.

  It was time to tell her father. Elizabeth got up and made her way to the writing desk. She took a sheet of notepaper and checked the nib on the pen. She sat for a while, wondering how to begin.

  Dear Papa,

  I received your letter of the 5th and the previous ones. I am writing to tell you that you should stop writing to me at Pemberley. Neither can you write to me at Darcy House.

  I will be leaving these houses and I am not yet sure where I will be living. It all depends on what position I am able to obtain. I have asked Mr. Darcy to annul our marriage and I hope he will soon agree.

  I will write and tell you as soon as I know the direction where you may write to me.

  Please can you tell Jane privately? I am hoping very much that the situation does not become public before she is able to make a respectable marriage. To that end, I ask that you also do not contact Mr. Darcy.

  Yours, etc,

  Lizzy

  She stared at the letter. It wasn’t really what she wanted to say. She wanted to be able to say she loved him, wanted to go home and put all this behind her. But she couldn’t. He had been part of the whole problem that had forced her to accept Mr. Darcy’s offer, and ruin his life.

  She loved him. Loved her husband too much to be able to forgive her family for what they had done.

  She did not wish to keep him trapped in a marriage he had not chosen.

  And she was also very afraid that one day, they would catch her alone. Committed to an asylum, she would never be discovered. She thought she might write a letter and hide it, so that if it was found after she had been taken, someone would know. But who? Perhaps Aunt Gardiner.

  No. She had made her decision to ask for an annulment and must await the fate that would result.

  She folded and sealed her letter to Papa. It would have to do.

  She smiled slightly as she put it to one side to be posted. The staff would be surprised, it was the first letter she had written since she had arrived here. Would they report the fact to Mr. Darcy? Perhaps. But he was an honourable man, he would not prevent it being sent. She was certain of it.

  Chapter 40

  Darcy checked the knot of his cravat carefully in the glass. He had risen early and taken care with his preparations.

  Mr. Maunder had been alerted to his master’s early beginnings and had just hurried in with a pitcher of hot water. Darcy nodded his thanks and allowed his valet to assist him in putting on his boots.

  He had had another restless night, and was quite decided that today he must tell Elizabeth what he wanted. He could not continue to live like this. She was an eminently suitable mistress for Pemberley. He loved and desired her far too much to be willing to let her go — or to keep her at the distance he had been doing.

  He didn’t know what was causing her so much alarm about staying at Pemberley, but he wanted to ask her about it himself, instead of risking her embarrassment by making his own enquirie
s.

  He was ready, and as he made his way down the great stairs, he wondered what she had written to her father. Mrs. Reynolds had knocked on his library door in agitation during the afternoon, surprised that her mistress had written a letter so soon after he had spoken to the housekeeper.

  Darcy had smiled, and told her that the letter must, of course, be sent. But he had wondered much of the night what Elizabeth had said to her father.

  It appeared, he thought, that what she had said at the hothouse, that it was time for him to make a decision, had indeed fixed in her mind that things must change.

  It was, of course, too early to expect her for breakfast just yet, but he wished to be ready for her as soon as she came downstairs.

  He turned into the breakfast room and helped himself to coffee. The steaming jugs had just arrived and the aroma swirled around him, refreshing.

  He turned to the table, where his newspaper was waiting for him, and frowned.

  A footman was just resetting Elizabeth’s place, a used teacup was on the tray.

  “Has Mrs. Darcy been here already?” Darcy’s voice came out rather more sharply than he had intended, and the man looked startled.

  “Yes, sir. She only took tea, and said she would be back for breakfast.”

  Darcy nodded, he didn’t want to appear too concerned, but he took only one sip of his coffee and hurried out into the hall.

  “Mrs. Reynolds!” When the housekeeper appeared, he looked at her. “Where did Mrs. Darcy go when she’d had her tea, and how long ago?”

  She curtsied. “She went for a walk, sir. About ten minutes ago. I wasn’t sure where she was going, so I sent a man to alert Mr. Reed.”

  Darcy nodded at a footman and within minutes, Mr. Maunder was there with his coat, gloves and hat.

  “Do we know which way she walked?” He was by the great front door, as the butler pulled it open.

  “In the direction of the lake, sir.”

  Darcy nodded at him and hurried down the steps. Halfway down, he stopped and surveyed the park. Perhaps she might get further if he walked the wrong way at first, and he turned back to the footman.

  “No, get me a horse at once.” He went back up to the top of the steps so that he could see a greater distance, but she was nowhere in sight.

  In the direction of the lake, the housekeeper had said and he gazed over. Surely she should still be in sight? He could not even see Mr. Reed.

  Perhaps she was going to the hothouse. He knew from seeing her expression yesterday how much the place already meant to her.

  It was only a few minutes before his horse was led out, skittish in the early light. Soon he was cantering up the path towards the head of the lake, soon he would see her, be able to stop and walk with her to the hothouse.

  But the path remained obstinately unpopulated, and Darcy frowned. She could not have got this far so quickly. He must check the hothouse in case she’d had longer than thought, but his thoughts of having the hothouse as a place to tell her he loved her were receding, supplanted by a rising sense of concern. Where else would she go on this cold morning?

  Please, no. Not the lake. His heart was in his throat. Why had he not been downstairs earlier?

  A brief glance inside the hothouse showed him that he had erred in thinking she would go there and he remounted hastily, the horse circling on the tight rein. Darcy decided to follow the other side of the lake and cross the outlet stream, before heading to the main entrance gate.

  She would not have left the estate. Surely she would not have left the estate? There had never been any intimation that she was on intimate terms with anyone locally. Apart from the two ladies from church, she had not met anyone else as far as he knew. And it was much too early to call socially on anyone — and much too far to walk to Lambton. She would not do that, she would not damage the reputation of the Darcy family.

  As he approached the little bridge to cross the stream, he caught sight of Mr. Reed, standing quietly by the path. A great sense of relief washed through Darcy. She must be near, and she must be well or Mr. Reed would be assisting her.

  He pulled up and dismounted, leading the animal until he stood beside the steward.

  “Thank you for ensuring Mrs. Darcy’s safety, Mr. Reed. Where is she?” His gaze searched the grounds, puzzled that he couldn’t see her.

  “She is down in your secret cove, sir. I hope you do not mind my telling her about it. But she seemed to need a quiet place to go, and I have had the pathway made safe for her. She goes there quite often, even though it can be cold.”

  Darcy glanced at him. “I do not mind.” He knew the steward would never divulge any secrets he learned, but just from the few words he’d heard, he understood Mr. Reed knew of Elizabeth’s unhappiness.

  He glanced across at the house. “Please take my horse back to the house, Mr. Reed. And ask the coach to be readied and it can wait here for us.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mr. Reed took the reins and led the animal away. Darcy walked the few paces around the bushes to find the narrow pathway down to the place. He’d almost forgotten it, had not visited there for many years, reluctant to revisit the grief he had felt when he was merely a boy.

  It was still very well hidden, and he had to push aside the branches to find it. Remembering how steep and narrow it was, he hoped Elizabeth was all right.

  But he saw the steps newly cut into the bank and the elegant, narrow handrail. He smiled. Mr. Reed was a good man. Elizabeth would be safe, and if she needed peace, she would have found it here.

  Chapter 41

  This was one of the places she would miss above all else when she left Pemberley. Elizabeth sat on the bench the steward had placed in the small clearing. She watched the rivulets of water pouring over the stones. The water was higher this morning. But it had rained in the night and the lake must find its old level again.

  She knew how much work it must take to keep the whole park so beautifully maintained and yet appearing so natural. It was in perfect good taste, as was the house. Neither brash nor vulgar, it showed the values of the family, of the current holder. His face swam into her vision. Intense and serious, at his most handsome. She could never forget him.

  She almost wished she had never come to know Mr. Darcy so well. Now she acknowledged to herself that she loved him, it would be so hard to leave. Hard, but necessary. She loved him enough to want the best for him and she knew that could not include herself. And it was the only way she, too, would be safe.

  Every time he looked at her, he must remember the obligation and look upon her with the disfavour he must feel for her family.

  She blinked back the tears in her eyes. She must see clearly, store up the memories for future times.

  “I am glad you love this secret place. It was most valuable to me as a boy.”

  She spun round in shock at the sound of her husband’s voice. How had she not heard him coming, sensed his presence? She usually knew instantly when he was near.

  He was standing on the bottom step, smiling slightly, and she jumped to her feet.

  “Mr. Darcy! I hope you do not mind me visiting this place.” She curtsied her greeting, and he bowed and walked towards her.

  “Of course I do not mind.” He looked around thoughtfully. “It is a place of great healing.”

  She nodded, “It is like the hothouse, quiet and peaceful. But this place is still and serene, and the hothouse is vibrant and alive.”

  He nodded and approached the bench. “May I join you, madam?”

  She nodded and moved slightly along the bench. She could not bear to be too close, it would weaken her resolve.

  “I was going to speak to you later, sir. So perhaps we could do so now.”

  He sat down at the far end of the bench, not too close, and turned slightly to face her.

  “I agree we must talk, and this is a wonderful place to do so — when the weather is warmer.” He searched her face. “Are you sure you are not too cold to be able to take the time that we need
?”

  She smiled at him. “It isn’t warm, I will admit. But I love this place so much. I would like to stay here if it is possible.” She bit her lip. “I was going to stay until breakfast, in any event.”

  He stood up. “Should I send for blankets?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you, sir. It would spoil the sense of a secret place, would it not?”

  She watched as a surprised smile spread across his face.

  “Indeed.” His face became grave again. “I wonder what made you come here so early this morning, Elizabeth?”

  Instantly, her senses fogged. It was time. She stiffened.

  “We must be honest with each other, sir. Today. I cannot continue to keep you trapped in this marriage. It is unjust, you did nothing wrong.”

  She forced herself to smile. “In fact, I quite likely owe you my eternal gratitude. If I had continued trying to get home by myself that day, I might well have damaged my ankle for ever, never been able to walk freely again.”

  She shivered with the thought. “It would have been the gravest loss I could imagine.”

  He nodded, seriously. “And yet, you have lost much. Your family, your friends, your home.”

  She looked away. “We must not think of the past, sir. The future is what concerns us now.”

  “Very well.” Mr. Darcy appeared to be thinking carefully. “You have told me what you think is best for me, but I am unsure what you really want in the future for yourself, Elizabeth.”

  She took a deep breath. “I want you to be free. Free to live your life to your own design, to choose your bride yourself. To be able to do that, you must apply to have our marriage annulled and send me away.” She sat, breathing carefully, proud of the fact that her voice had not wobbled, had not betrayed her feelings.

  He was very quiet for a long moment. She sensed his eyes upon her before he spoke.