by Linda Wells
Darcy, intensely aroused, stared at her, confusion spread over his face; she had never withdrawn from him before. He leaned in to recapture her lips and she turned her face away from him, and looked down. “Lizzy?”
Elizabeth broke away from his embrace and stood. “I am sorry, William, I, I, I forgot a letter that I have to write. Please excuse me.” She glanced up at his face and pained by the expression he wore, quit the room. Darcy was left alone on the piano bench, his ardour dying as his heart ached from her rejection. He did not understand; he must have pushed her too soon. He determined to not approach her again and would wait for her to welcome him. His shoulders slumped; he retired to his study, and pretended to work. In his pain and confusion, Darcy withdrew into himself and once again donned the protective mask of indifference that he thought had been abandoned forever.
“HOW ARE YOU SON?” Philip asked Alex. They were astride their horses, observing their tenants tending the fields at Kingston Park. Alex startled from his reverie and met his father’s concerned, but understanding, face.
He smiled slightly. “I am well, Father.”
“You seem to be lost in thought, is there anything you would like to discuss, perhaps it will help you to work out what troubles you?”
Sighing, he shook his head. “I suppose it would be a waste of time to deny it, so yes, I will admit that I could use your advice.”
Philip nodded and guided his horse to a nearby fence and dismounted. Tying the reins to a post he leaned on the rail and watched as Alex mirrored his moves. He waited for his son to begin.
“I spoke to Darcy.” He glanced over to his father. “I told him of my interest in Miss Darcy.”
“And what was his response?”
He laughed. “At first, I was sure had he been armed, he would have run me through, but he did eventually calm, and listened.” He looked down. “He said he had no objection other than our difference in ages and of course her not yet being out. He indicated her not being available for another year.” Alex’s eyes met Philip’s.
“Ah, so the question is, are you truly ready to put your life on hold, to have the chance of pursing a girl who may not have the slightest interest in you a year from now? I am assuming that Darcy, as reluctant as he is to introduce his sister to society is also reluctant to settle her future on you. He will want her to at least see who else is available to her and let her make the decision.”
Alex nodded. “Yes on both of those counts.” He picked a long blade of grass and bit it. “I realize that it could be a foolish mistake to pin my hopes on her, but I sense something, I just know she will be extraordinary, especially under Elizabeth’s influence.”
Philip regarded his son. Like Darcy, he was waiting for a love match, and Darcy was fortunate enough to find his. He placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “The Season is over. You can stay here on the estate with no need to socialize with anyone other than our neighbours, spend the autumn hunting and working with me, and not return to town until February. You will not be exposed to women who you have not already met and obviously rejected, and you will be safe from temptation before Miss Darcy’s presentation. I know it seems a long wait, but it will be over before you know it.” Alex looked at him doubtfully. “Or, you could just give her up now, save yourself the misery and get on with selecting a bride from elsewhere.” He met his gaze. “Is she worth the wait?”
Alex stared into his father’s eyes, but what he saw was a girl, with the lovely form of a woman, tall, with blonde curls and brilliant blue eyes, smiling shyly at him. He smiled and refocusing on his father he drew a deep breath. “Yes, she is.”
Philip smiled; he knew the answer before his son did. “Well then, during this wait I suggest that you begin learning about her.”
“How? I doubt that I will be in her company anytime soon, she is at Pemberley, and I do not foresee a convenient invitation coming my way.” He thought of Darcy’s face during their interview, no, an invitation was not forthcoming.
Philip laughed. “No indeed, but I do recall you have a sister living in that very place. A sister who you professed a desire to know better, and a sister who is in no doubt aware of your application to Darcy, as well as Miss Darcy’s feelings, whatever they are, for you. I suggest you begin a friendly correspondence with her.” He looked at him significantly. “Perhaps send a note to Darcy as well.”
Alex’s face expressed his approval of the idea, but on the last item he smiled. “You do not think he would be jealous of my writing to my sister, do you?”
“Ha! I think Darcy capable of being jealous of the ribbons his wife wears in her hair!” They both laughed, and Alex agreed, he would write to his friend first. He was relieved to make a decision. February did not seem quite so far away now.
AFTER ESCAPING from the music room, Elizabeth found herself blindly running through the hallways of Pemberley. She was completely overwhelmed. For the last three weeks she had been dealing with not only her grief with the loss of their first child, but the all-encompassing fear of failure that now ruled nearly her every thought. William had been so wonderful; he was as loving and attentive as he had been after Wickham's attack. The difference this time was that she was also fighting herself, and in a way that she could not easily communicate to him. And now she had rejected him. “Oh how can I hurt him?” She whispered, finally finding her way into the conservatory and sitting on a bench. She knew that he had not meant to push; he was trying to comfort her and was carried away. She sighed. “And I hurt him.” She would never forget the look of confused pain on his face as she ran from the room. She knew that she needed to go to him, hold him, but she still had no ability to tell him what was wrong. She hoped that he would stop asking until she could understand herself.
Darcy sat in his study, staring blankly at the papers in front of him. “All I wanted to do was love her.” He said softly. He closed his eyes, seeing her face, so full of fear. “She is afraid of me.” That thought chilled him to the bone. He was trying so hard to understand what she was experiencing. Grief, surely, he felt it himself, and he believed that they were of comfort to each other. No doubt her grief was greater, she had known of the pregnancy for weeks where he only learned of it after it ended. Perhaps that was the problem; she was more attached to the possible child than she cared to admit. Perhaps she did believe that it was real. He understood her reluctance to begin again, and he knew that he had been carried away by his own natural ardour, but for her to run away . . . It made his insecure nature rise back to the surface. “What have I done?”
He knew what he needed to do, and started to rise from his desk when a knock came to the door. Thinking it was Elizabeth he rushed to open it, only to be disappointed with the sight of Mrs. Reynolds. His obviously distressed countenance struck her immediately. “Sir, is there anything the matter?”
“No, Mrs. Reynolds.” He stepped back, his face again unreadable. “May I help you with anything?” She stood and looked at the man she had known since he was four years old, a man who was in many ways a son to her. She knew him so well. “I was seeking Mrs. Darcy.”
“Oh.” He looked away. “I was just going to seek her myself.”
Mrs. Reynolds decided that the master needed some gentle help, he reminded her very much of his father. “I noticed that she is quite sad, sir.” She watched his face. “You should know that recovering from such an event takes time.”
Relieved at receiving some explanation, he looked up at her. “I suspected as much, a long time?” His eyes searched hers.
“It is different for every woman. Each carries her grief uniquely.” She went on to explain that a woman’s body goes through great changes when it is preparing for a child, and that it would take time to return to its normal state. She also said that Elizabeth was likely grieving for the life that did not come.
Darcy listened very closely and dismissed her. He understood the explanation, and it made perfect sense. He also felt his own grief, but none of this explained the look of pa
nic and fear that he saw in Elizabeth’s eyes when he approached. To have the one person he loved above everyone fear him was deeply disturbing, but he could not begin to repair the damage if she would not speak of it. He stepped out into the hallway to see Elizabeth approaching him. He stood, trying to read her expression, and not knowing how to respond.
She took the decision away when she reached him and grasping his hands, looked up into his eyes. “I am so sorry, William.” Instantly his arms were around her and he pulled her tightly against him.
Burying his face in her hair he replied. “I am sorry for pushing you too soon, Lizzy. I just love you so much.” He kissed her softly. “I understand your need to heal, but . . .” He stopped. He would not press her again. He would wait for her to speak. Embracing her he whispered. “I will wait for you my love, as long as I may still hold you, I can wait.”
“Thank you, dear.” She whispered. She knew that she owed him an explanation. “Will?” He closed his eyes. She only called him that name during their most intimate moments; she still loved him. His hold tightened. “Please bear with me, I am so . . .” She paused, searching for a word and failing. “You see, I cannot even express to myself what is wrong . . . I am struggling . . . I do not understand . . . I . . .”
“Shh, darling, shh.” Darcy drew back and held her face in his hands. “I do not understand either, but I seem to worry you when I ask questions.” His eyes searched hers seeing so many emotions, her confusion seemed to rule them all, but fear was still evident. “I will not press you to explain, just please do not be afraid to talk to me, about anything.” He gave her a small smile. “Remember you are married to a man who excels at not speaking.”
She nodded. He drew a breath and whispered, “Do you wish me not to . . . touch you anymore?”
She saw his fear now, and stroked his brow. “I always wish for your touch, Will, but I am not yet ready . . .”
His fingers pressed her lips, and he nodded. “You will tell me if I press you too much, no more running away, please.”
She tried to smile. “I promise.” They held each other and hoped the other would be well.
Chapter 32
Time passed, as it must. It was neither fast nor slow, but simply a progression of days. Very gradually Elizabeth began to feel closer to her old self again; or at least as close to herself as she had felt in the past months, first enduring the nightmare of Wickham, and then the pregnancy, she barely knew who she was anymore. She had not recovered from one event only to find herself completely immersed in another. She was able to take walks again without too much fear, keeping her promise to William and always telling Mrs. Reynolds where she would go and returning on time. She did not have to worry so much about upsetting him now; he had been away from her almost constantly, overseeing the harvest. They did not even have time to take their morning walks together anymore. He was out the door and on his way as soon as he inhaled his breakfast, and in the evening he was so exhausted, it was all he could do to stay awake after supper. It had been six weeks now since the miscarriage. She had grieved as much as she could. She knew the ache would always be there, but she also sensed that the worst of it was over and had almost come to terms with her fear of failing again. Almost. The fear of disappointing William, the overwhelming feeling that she was incapable of bearing him his heir was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but she thought that maybe she was ready to begin again.
In all of this time, they had not once made love. She had been so lost, so very sad, so terribly afraid, that she shied away from him and did not even realize she was doing it. She had known of his devotion and importance to Pemberley, but it took this event to drive home her importance as well, and it frightened her. William had given up trying to talk to her. And now that she was waking from the fog, he was so far away. She needed him, she missed him, and she was afraid that she had lost him.
Darcy was lost. She was his anchor and he missed her constantly. He desperately wanted to restore the mind and soul of his dearest friend and companion, and reclaim the extraordinary woman he married, and he admitted to himself, he needed his wife back. It took every bit of his strength not to take her in his arms and love her. It was torture to lie next to her, to wake up, finding their bodies spooned together, his face always tucked in the crook of her neck, his arms holding her close, and her hands entwined with his. Always. He would wake first and gently kiss her, watching a soft smile cross her lips and hear her whisper his name. That was his salvation. That told him she did still love him. But then she would wake, the look of fear would appear in her eyes, and the wall would descend between them. He did not understand, but was so afraid to ask her again, fearing that it would push her farther away. He was grateful for the small liberties she did grant him. She still held him, still allowed his kiss, still would lean against him, giving him the comfort and reassurance he deeply needed, and he hoped the closeness somehow reassured her as well. He thought of spilling his own feelings out for her to hear, but then decided that might make her feel worse, again driving her away. He was relieved when the harvest began and made sure he was away all day and too exhausted at night to even contemplate making love to her.
It was all for naught, he would have gladly come to her in a heartbeat if she only gave him the slightest welcome. He missed her so much, but for his own sake, he erected a wall of protection around himself and became blind to her slow improvement.
Georgiana was not oblivious to the couple’s tension, no matter how much they tried to hide it from her. They did not appear to be angry with each other, something else was at the bottom of the problem and they seemed no closer to resolving it now than they were over a month ago when she first sensed something was wrong. Elizabeth’s despondency resembled her own behaviour after Ramsgate, and her brother seemed numb, reminding her of seeing her father when he was unaware of her presence. She was deeply worried, they were together, yet also distant, but she saw that when they thought one was not observing, each would gaze upon the other with equal yearning and unmistakable love. Whatever the chasm was seemed to be growing deeper, and Georgiana, who finally had the family she needed and wanted for so long, was determined to overcome her own reticence and speak.
“William? May I speak to you?” She was waiting at the stables for his return from the fields.
Darcy’s face, tired and preoccupied, turned to his sister. He stared at her blankly for a moment, and then blinking, he asked quietly, “What is it, Georgie?”
Taking his hand, she led him down the path towards the house, and finding a bench pulled him to sit next to her. “I know that you will say this is not my concern, but since I live here, and I love both of you . . . I want you to tell me what has happened between you and Elizabeth, and what you intend to do about it.” She drew a breath and cast her eyes down.
Darcy stared at her in amazement. “Georgiana, what has come over you?” She had never spoken so directly to him before. He wondered if this was Elizabeth’s influence beginning to take hold. Inwardly he smiled at the thought. He touched her hand. “I appreciate your worry, but you are correct, it is not your place to interfere.”
She raised her chin in defiance. “I disagree, William. The two of you used to laugh and have such fascinating conversations, I could barely keep up with your banter, and I could hardly understand it half of the time, now it is so silent, it is as if Elizabeth never came to live at Pemberley. You used to always be touching or stealing kisses, and were always together. Now it is as if you are avoiding each other, and both seem so sad. I see the way you look at her, with such longing, but did you know that she looks at you the same way?”
Darcy’s eyes desperately searched her face. “She does?”
“Yes!” Georgiana stood up, frustrated. “Yes! She has the same wistful, miserable expression that you wear all of the time, but as soon as you turn your head she hides it. What has happened? Why do you not talk this out? It is obvious that you both wish to reconcile. Why don’t you just get on with
it?”
His mind was whirling. He would not doubt his sister’s observations. Perhaps they were both so busy protecting themselves that they failed to see they were ready to talk. He looked up at his waiting sister. “I cannot tell you what happened.” She gifted him with an unmistakable Darcy glare. He sighed. “Trust me Georgie.” She nodded her head unhappily, and sat back down beside him. “I hardly know why we are in the situation that we are now. But you are correct. I do wish to reconcile, very much.” He took her hand in his and gave her the first genuine smile she had seen in over a month. “I count on you to help me.”
“Anything Brother, I will be glad to help.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Darcy kissed her cheek and they rose from the bench, already he was formulating his plan to win his wife back.
He began by writing to Bingley, and telling him that they would be unable to host him until the second week of September. He then wrote to the caretaker of the cottage, and told him to have it readied for their visit, and gave very detailed instructions for its preparation. He finally wrote to his uncle who had recently returned to Matlock, and asked if they could host Georgiana for three weeks. He went about his plans with that same intense attention to detail that a general would use in a military campaign. He was determined to restore the joyful, vivacious, delightful woman he had married. With his activity, he felt himself emerging from his retreat, coming alive again to be strong for her, finally realizing that was what she needed.
The day arrived when he would set his plan in motion. He told Georgiana that he was taking Elizabeth on a surprise honeymoon trip to the Lake District and had her things quietly packed, prepared to depart when her uncle’s carriage arrived in the morning. It took every bit of her strength not to breathe a word of the plan to Elizabeth, who could not understand why her sister kept breaking out into uncontrolled giggles. The couple went for their newly re-established morning stroll, and the moment that they left the house, a carriage pulled up to the door and was loaded with their surreptitiously packed luggage. When they returned, Darcy led her to the breakfast room, where they sat and ate.