An Arranged Marriage

by Jan Hahn

  He winced at my words, both of us aware that I made reference to a sharp retort he had made last winter about a refined woman needing to be an extensive reader if she was to entertain his fancy of an accomplished woman. For some reason, I had a brief glimmer of remorse at teasing him, for it was plain to see that he knew not how to take it, and so I changed the subject.

  "Fiona told me of your kindness toward her."

  He did not answer, but frowned in response.

  "How you allowed her to remain in your employ after her unfortunate situation."

  "Aye, well, she had nowhere to go and I could not see turning her out. She was very young and ignorant."

  "I assume the man could not be forced to take responsibility."

  He shook his head. "I felt it was my responsibility."

  "Yours? But why? Do you know who the father is?"

  "I do." He turned and started for the door. "But that is all I care to say about the matter. I bid you good-night."

  As he closed the door behind him, a suspicion began to nag at my mind - an ugly, worrisome thought. Why had he voiced his reply like that? His responsibility? Surely not! Oh, surely not!

  ~ * ~

  I awoke the next morning to blessed sunshine streaming through the windows. Not even a hint of fog. How I rejoiced at the sight, for I did not think I could abide another dark, dreary day. If I were in charge of rain, I would have it do so only at night, at the accustomed hour of slumber and every day would be as beautiful as this morning promised. It lightened my mood considerably and when I recalled the distasteful thought with which I had ended the prior evening, I determined to dismiss it as nothing more than a foolish fancy on my part

  From my earliest childhood I had been blessed with a sanguine nature and although it had been sorely tried in the last six months and the past two days in particular, I resolved to think more positively, to try my best to be optimistic. A great longing to leave the house and walk in the garden came over me and I planned to do so as soon as I had breakfasted. I even resolved to hold my tongue with Mr. Darcy; I would attempt to be more compliant, to overlook his disagreeableness, and to enjoy the day.

  My resolve lasted a good half hour.

  We had just sat down to breakfast that included a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee, which I dearly loved and was enjoying thoroughly, when Mr. Darcy announced that I must have new gowns made as soon as possible.

  "I do not mean to disparage your wardrobe," he said. "It is perfectly suitable for the sphere in which you were brought up, but you will need more extensive selections as my wife."

  His tone grated on me, perhaps because all that had transpired the night before had not truly been put to rest in spite of my efforts, and so with the greatest of ease my cheerful resolve flew right up the chimney. "I have never been one to put on airs, Mr. Darcy, in either my manners or dress."

  "I am well aware of that. I would not have you do so, but you must see that we shall attend concerts and assemblies as well as balls during the upcoming season, and I want you to feel at ease. You must take advantage of the time we are in town to order new gowns. Having grown up with a sister, I know how important clothes are to a woman. And besides that, I think it is time that you soften the severity of your attire."

  Severity! What did he mean? When I raised my eyebrows in reply, he went on. "Pray, do not think I am insensitive to the loss of your father, Elizabeth, but it is now past six months since his passing. One rarely sees anyone completely garbed in black as you are for this length of time."

  "Perhaps that is because you have never seen anyone who mourns the loss as deeply as I do, sir. How can you possibly know the depth of my grief?"

  His voice softened when next he spoke. "I, too, have grieved for my parents. Although it occurred years ago, I still feel their absence."

  His words shamed me; how could I have forgotten that he had also suffered such a loss? Still, my shackles were raised at the thought that he would tell me when to cease my own observance.

  "Shall you not visit the dressmakers and milliners later in the week and at least select some fabrics and patterns or whatever it is that women require in something other than black? I shall allow you to choose the time you make the change, itself."

  "That is generous of you, sir. At least I shall be permitted the freedom to choose when I quit mourning!" I rose and stormed out of the dining room. Just before I reached the staircase, Mr. Darcy, having followed me, grabbed my hand.

  "Elizabeth! Must you make a scene out of our every conversation?"

  "A scene! I cannot see that I am making a scene. I simply expressed my opinion, sir, and if I am to refrain from doing so, that should have been a clause in our marriage contract!"

  Two servants could be heard approaching the staircase above stairs, and so he said nothing, but with a nod of his head, indicated that I must return to the dining room. I complied but only because I, too, did not care to air our differences in front of the staff. Behind the doors that he closed firmly, Mr. Darcy's scowl deepened. He escorted me to the chair on which I had previously sat and stood so close by that I had no choice but to sit down.

  "You and I must come to a truce, Elizabeth. You are behaving as a child and I expect much more of you."

  "I am behaving as a child? And why not, when you persist in treating me as one?"

  He clenched his fist and put it to his mouth the way I had seen him do before when he was angry. Pacing back and forth before the fireplace, he said nothing for a full five minutes. At last, he seemed to have gained his composure. "If I have treated you as less than you are, I apologize. You must acknowledge that being a husband is as strange to me as the role of wife is to you. I have been master in this house for five years now and Georgiana has been my responsibility for as long. I am accustomed to say what I will and it is done."

  "I shall acknowledge that, Mr. Darcy, if you will accept that I am not a servant, a dependent child, or a younger sister. Whether we like it or not, you have made me your wife and I intend to be treated with the honour and respect such position merits. I will not be talked down to, scolded, nor ordered. If you have not already discovered it, I hope you soon do so - I am not your property!"

  There must have been a fire in my eyes, for I was as deadly earnest as I had been when he had insulted me at Hunsford six months previous. When I saw a slight smile flicker about his countenance, it did nothing to abate my anger. "What statement have I made that you can possibly deem humorous, sir?"

  "Only that I marvel at how quickly you forget your marriage vows."

  "I do not understand your meaning."

  "Did you not but two days ago in the presence of God and witnesses promise to obey me?"

  I closed my eyes in dismay. How could he bring up that sham of a wedding ceremony and the words I had been forced to utter?

  "Or was your pledge of obedience as false as your vow of love?"

  There was no need for me to answer, for he knew the truth as well as I did. This time Mr. Darcy was the one to turn and stride out of the room. We did not speak of our disagreement again; instead, we separated for much of the day until late that afternoon he sent Fiona to my sitting room with a request.

  "If you would like to see a bit of the city, Ma'am, the master says it is his particular wish that you meet him in the front hall. He is going out and he desires that you accompany him."

  I wasted no time in readying myself and joined him there. It was not an apology, per se, but it would do for now. Besides, I had grown tired of being indoors all day and longed to go out - at least, that is the excuse I gave myself.

  The remainder of our so-called wedding week and the next, as well, passed more rapidly than I anticipated. There were no more intrusions on my privacy or events that sparked controversy. On the contrary, Mr. Darcy could not have been more of a gentleman. He assembled the entire staff and introduced me. I was allowed sufficient time with Mrs. James to go over the household accounts and acquaint myself with everything involved
in running the townhouse. I felt quite certain that it could run itself with little input on my part, but it gratified me to learn that Mr. Darcy publicly acknowledged me as mistress of the house, no matter what situation existed privately.

  It was as though both of us were making a valiant attempt to get along, and I must admit that Mr. Darcy proved to be an interesting and stimulating companion. He knew much more than I about London and its society. In years past I had visited my relatives near Cheapside, of course, but we had rarely ventured far from the area in which they lived. Mr. Darcy introduced me to a grander side of town and I did enjoy exploring a world I had never dreamed of inhabiting.

  He conducted me on a tour of the city, showing me the best neighbourhoods, shops, and parks. I saw St. James' Palace from the outside, at least, and learned that he frequented it but little, as he found himself bored with the hangers-on that populated royal society. Still, I must write to Mamá and tell her that her son-in-law has been in the presence of the king. Would not that be a feather in her cap! Now she would have a rejoinder for Sir William Lucas' many references to such.

  He pointed out St. George's Cathedral, a grand stone edifice, and then named many more churches we passed by. We also drove along the Thames for some distance, but he cautioned me not to stray past a particular bend of it, for it was not a safe part of the city from thereon. Once the rain, which had returned, let up in the middle of the week, I particularly enjoyed our strolls through the park across the street from his home. Among the trees and well-tended lawns, at last I felt that I could breathe deeply. Even though the noise of the city could be heard in the background, it seemed more like Hertfordshire as we ambled through the fallen leaves of copper and gold. We watched children chase their kites close to the pond and throw bread to the family of ducks hovering on the bank, while parents or nannies sitting nearby kept a watchful eye upon them. Mr. Darcy introduced me to several couples we met there and invited them to call.

  It was in the park that we both seemed more at ease with one another. We talked of books and music and I was surprised to discover that our tastes were similar. In fact, his favourite authors were those of my father's, which pleased me. I had thought Mr. Darcy a man who laughed rarely, but there he was telling me that he enjoyed the sly wit of Dr. Johnson. He asked my opinion of certain artists, but I was forced to plead ignorance, for I was woefully uneducated in the world of art.

  "We shall have to remedy that," he announced. "A trip to Montagu House in Bloomsbury seems to be in order. Shall we go tomorrow?"

  I readily agreed and we spent Friday surveying the great works found therein. I learned much from him and felt myself quite educated by the end of the day. It would take more tours before I would feel at ease discussing the Rosetta Stone and other Egyptian antiquities or Mr. Townley's collection of classical sculpture, but at least I now had some inkling as to what Mr. Darcy spoke of. I marveled at his knowledge about the world and when he imparted it - almost as a teacher with a student - we enjoyed perfect amiability. It was only when the personal intruded into our lives that our familiar masks once again slipped back into place.

  At the end of the second week, he announced that we were invited to a ball at the Earl of Matlock's mansion on Saturday next. The invitation caused a mixture of anticipation and hesitation within me. I have always loved balls and dancing, but there I would know hardly anyone and I remembered what a disaster our one and only dance had been at Netherfield almost a year ago.

  "Shall I know anyone in attendance other than Colonel Fitzwilliam?" I asked.

  "I feel certain Mr. Bingley and his sister will attend, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Hurst."

  Since he had introduced the subject of Mr. Bingley, I felt this as good a time as any to question him about our pre-marital agreement. "I wonder, sir, have you had opportunity yet to speak to Mr. Bingley about my sister, Jane?"

  He frowned before speaking. "In what way?"

  In what way! Was he purposefully forgetting our bargain? "You promised to right the wrong you committed upon my sister in regard to your influence upon Mr. Bingley."

  "Oh, that," he said in a dismissive tone. "No, the time has not yet been right."

  "And may I ask when it shall be right?"

  We sat at the dinner table and it seemed to me that he took more than adequate time in answering me, choosing to carefully cut his roast beef, chew it thoroughly, and slowly wash it down with a long swallow of wine. At this rate, I thought, she shall die an old maid before you finish this meal!

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin and then rose and started for the door. "Trust me on this, Elizabeth," he said, as he reached for the doorknob. "I shall speak to Bingley when I deem the time is right."

  Oh, the man was pompous! Why must everything be done on his timetable? I threw down my napkin and stormed from the room, unable to eat another bite. I was too angry to search him out and confront him further, afraid of what I might say; instead, I ran up the stairs to my chamber. Once again I spent the evening regretting that I had ever entered into this marriage. Where was his agreeable nature that I had come to enjoy the last few days? Had he dropped it in the carriage as carelessly as one leaves a forgotten umbrella? And what had happened to our newly found but tenuous cordiality? Had I merely imagined a slight crack in the shells in which we both sought protection? Was I the only one who had been fooled into thinking we might possibly tear apart those shells? Well, no more - Mr. Darcy had sealed up the crack with his own particular impenetrable paste.

  Chapter 5

  At the end of dinner on the following Sunday evening, when we had been married a total of sixteen days, Mr. Darcy announced that Georgiana would return on the morrow from her stay at her uncle's home. I received the news with alacrity and yet, a degree or two of trepidation. During our brief time of marriage neither Mr. Darcy nor I had discussed his sister except in passing, but I had many questions on my mind, not the least of which involved my maid.

  "I wonder, sir, exactly why you chose to place Fiona in my service?"

  He looked up from his plate with a strange expression about his eyes. "What do you mean?"

  "She informs me that you removed her from Pemberley because of Georgiana. Now, you station her above stairs where she is sure to come in frequent contact with your sister."

  "When I moved Fee to London five years ago, Georgiana was very young, far too young to understand the circumstances of an unmarried girl giving birth to someone's natural child."

  "And I take it you feel she is mature enough now to have that understanding."

  "I do." Scowling and tossing his napkin aside, he rose from the table. "Georgiana is no longer a naïve school girl, not after her experience with George Wickham."

  I could tell he did not want to discuss the subject, but I persisted. "We must have some conversation about that fact, Mr. Darcy. I fail to understand why you did not inform your sister before we married that Mr. Wickham is my brother-in-law."

  "Frankly, I take no delight in relating that fact to anyone. But as for Georgiana, the answer is simple. When I left her to travel to Hertfordshire with the Gardiners, I did not know whether you would accept my proposal. I prepared her with that truth - I would seek your hand in marriage, but I was unsure whether it would come about. In the event that you declined, I saw no reason to alarm her as to your connections. If truth be told, I was somewhat surprised when you did say yes."

  I looked up to meet his eyes, but he had turned away with those words and walked to the fireplace. Had he asked me to marry, hoping I would say no? I could not believe that, for he had appeared far too persuasive at Longbourn. Or had he? I remembered his stern, cold expression when my uncle had first voiced the idea of such a marriage. When he asked to see me alone, Mr. Darcy had never offered any words of love, as he had done with his first proposal. It had all seemed more of a business arrangement, but why would he even make the offer if he did not want me? I had nothing to offer him; he would not profit from such a marriage. Suddenly I felt plai
n and undesirable, and the feeling hurt, why I knew not. I did not desire the man, did I? The very thought filled me with such turmoil, I resolved not to think on it.

  "I fear that your decision may be causing your sister great distress. Pray, do enlighten me on your conversation with her wherein she learned of my connection to Mr. Wickham."

  "She was troubled somewhat, but I assured her that we will not see Mr. Wickham, that she has nothing to fear in that regard. I trust that you will do all you can to reassure her."

  "Certainly, but is it not possible we shall see Lydia sometime in the future? If not at either of your homes, perhaps at Longbourn? You will allow me to visit my family, will you not?"

  "Of course. I shall not prevent your seeing any of your sisters. I would think, however, that it shall be some time before Mrs. Wickham travels from her new home, being as great a distance as Newcastle is from either Longbourn or Derbyshire."

  "Oh, I was not aware that you were privy to the site of the Wickhams' relocation."

  "Yes," he muttered, averting his face as he strode toward the door that led to the hall, "I knew that they moved there and that Mr. Wickham had gone into the regulars. Pray excuse me."

  He exited the room and I was left to wonder who had told him of that news. Probably Mamá. She seemed as proud of Lydia's marriage as she was of mine and to a more worthless man in England I am sure could not be found. I sighed as I rose from the table. I had made little progress in discussing Georgiana with her brother and my feelings were hurt at the way he had dismissed my apprehension. Did he think I worked miracles? That I could transform that shy, young girl into a poised, lively woman when I knew little about her? He could at least discuss her likes and dislikes with me.

  And another thing - I tired of his running off every time he did not care to continue a conversation with me; I resolved to question him further and quit the room in search of him. I supposed he would partake of an after-dinner drink, but when I did not find him in any of the public rooms, I asked a servant of his whereabouts and he directed me to a large room that I remembered on my tour of the townhouse as the game room. Sure enough, when I entered the doorway, Mr. Darcy stood poised to make a shot at the billiards table. Upon seeing me, he straightened and bowed slightly. Our formality with each other seemed pretentious. I wondered if we would ever be at ease with one another. After all, we had been together every day for over two weeks now, and we were married...and yet not married.