William
At Euston Hall in Suffolk, some sixty miles from London and Elizabeth, Darcy also stood gazing at the stars. The large window in the roomy and well-appointed chamber assigned him was open, permitting a cooling breeze to waft in and an unencumbered view of the night sky. Darcy fingered the small pouch containing the braided tress of his wife's hair along with the lavender scented handkerchief she had pressed into his hand as he left. He sighed heavily. He did not wonder if she missed him. Any doubts at the depth of her love for him had vanished ere they were wed. His only doubts at the moment were regarding the logic of leaving her. He had lost count after a hundred at the number of times he nearly spun his mount about and raced back to Town. The letter teeming with lavish praises of love and desire written earlier was waiting on the desk for delivery at first light.
A knock at the door broke into his musings and revealed Gerald Vernor, brandy decanter and glasses in hand. “Figured you could use a nightcap.”
Darcy smiled. “You have no idea. Come in, my friend.”
For Darcy the subsequent three days were busy and surprisingly pleasant for the most part. Gerald was always agreeable company and Duke Grafton possessed a dry wit and a wealth of adventures he enjoyed imparting with a born storyteller's flair. His stables were impressive. Darcy, the consummate horseman that he was, delighted in the endless discussions, ridings, and inspections of the Duke's magnificent animals. The business arrangements monopolized hours and required serious, intense concentration. Evenings were replete with the Duke's tales, fine dining, and manly entertainments. He had an excellently equipped game room, including a beautiful billiard table that Darcy proficiently profited from. Therefore, it was not until the late evenings and horrid nights when Darcy's heartache would overwhelm him. He would wake in the mornings after sleeping fitfully, aroused from vivid dreams of his wife, lonely, and miserable.
He reasoned that arriving at Pemberley on the fourth day after leaving her would ease his heartache somewhat since it was their home, yet he was wrong. He had not fully comprehended how indelibly Elizabeth's presence was etched into every room and corridor. He heard her voice and gentle footfalls constantly, expected to behold her beloved face at every corner, could smell the lingering aroma of her perfume, and his eyes alit on a ceaseless array of her belongings scattered about. Even the stables elicited poignant memories: the curricle she drove, the pairs of thick leather gloves he had purchased for her, and worst of all the now sixth-month-old colt that she had bonded with and named Wolfram after the author of Parzival, from which Darcy had chosen his stallion's name. Wolfram scampered up to Darcy the instant he entered the stable yard, nosing behind his body with searching eyes. “Sorry little fellow, she is not here.” The colt seemed to understand Darcy's words, or at least the mournful tone, and with a last look about, hung his head and wandered away sadly. Darcy wanted to cry.
The torture was exacerbated when he entered their chambers. The sensory overload of memories associated with her overwhelmed him and for several minutes he could not breathe. He seriously entertained the idea of sleeping in a guest chamber, but in the end, the need to be close to her possessions as a substitute to the flesh and blood reality was too strong. Eventually, he found comfort in the ghost of his heart's survival as Elizabeth's spirit was evident in each corner of the chambers. He lay in their bed that first night with the door to her dressing room open, his gaze resting on her vanity as joyous remembrances of brushing her hair while she smiled at his reflection washed over him, gradually leading to a profusion of rapturous recollections as sleep claimed him.
Prior to departing, Darcy had carefully studied the invitations received, discussing each one with Lizzy, discarding those that were unacceptable for some reason, and encouraging her to affirm those that would be entertaining and appropriate for a woman without her spouse. He further admonished her to confer with Lady Matlock before accepting any other requests. He had so fretted over her boredom or despondency during his absence that he scheduled an activity of some sort for nearly each waking hour over the ensuing seven days. Lizzy had not argued, but it was humorous. First of all, no amount of occupations would prevent gloom residing in her heart. Secondly, he apparently forgot in his ambition to appease her loneliness that Lizzy was a woman who needed solitude in her day. She was a social creature to be sure, yet she equally craved privacy and silence.
Therefore, she had rearranged a few of the planned excursions to allot time to herself. Fortunately, she plotted her first morning without him as one of those times. She woke late, having slept poorly. Despite his beautiful letter, her sleep was plagued with unpleasant dreams of Lady Catherine's disapproving face, William telling her she was unsuitable to be his wife, a sea of faces laughing at her as she entered the opera house in rags, and vague twinges of discomfort emanating from her lower abdomen. Upon waking, the initial thought was of relief. Her husband's letter lay on the bed stand and simply spying it recalled his declarations of love and devotion with sensations of happiness rushing over her. Her heart ached without his body beside her, but her soul was complete.
The familiar deep and feathery flutters that she was almost certain were the baby, abruptly commenced, bursting forth in a frantic minute or so of bustling exercise, and then gradually subsiding. Lizzy chuckled, placing her palm over her lower belly. “Did you not wish to wake yet, little one?” Lying curled on her side, Lizzy rubbed her hand along the flesh of her abdomen, noting the slight bulge and thickening. Bliss shrouded her even in her sadness at Darcy's absence. Sighing, she stretched and yawned, her mind wandering to the day's schedule when a sudden sharp wrenching cramp in her groin area momentarily rendered her breathless. It was not horribly painful and passed as rapidly as it came, yet alarm pierced her heart.
All throughout the morning Lizzy experienced minor pinches and spasms. Amid the mild discomfort, the internal flickers persisted, easily perceived now that Lizzy had identified them. The book was unclear. One paragraph stated that occasional muscle pangs were normal as the body expanded with the growth of the baby. Another firmly expressed the ominous indication of abdominal cramps. To Lizzy, the twitches felt more like muscle aches than cramps, but she fretted nonetheless. Between the unrelenting ache in her heart and the new pregnancy symptoms, thoughts of Lady Catherine had nearly evaporated.
Around noon a footman approached Lizzy in the garden and announced Lady Matlock. Lizzy had not expected Darcy's aunt, but was always delighted to see her. Additionally, she deemed it fortuitous as she could ask her about the recent developments.
“Madeline,” she said with true pleasure as they hugged in greeting, “what a wonderful surprise!”
“Elizabeth, dear, forgive me for calling unannounced.”
“Do not be ridiculous! You are always welcome. Mr. Travers, lemonade please in the parlor.” Lizzy linked arms with Lady Matlock, steering her toward the parlor.
“I was concerned for you, Elizabeth. Despite your charm and brave face last evening, I sensed your sadness.”
Lizzy smiled as they sat on the sofa. “I will not deny how empty I am without William. I have grown rather accustomed to his dominating presence.”
“Jest all you wish, I know how deeply your mutual affection. I can assure you he is as miserable, if that comforts you.” Lady Matlock laughed and Lizzy smiled.
“Horrid as it is to confess, it does. Perhaps his agony will inspire him to conclude his business hastily and return to my side. I truly am so selfish!” A maid entered with their refreshments, suspending conversation for a moment. “Madeline, I am doubly pleased to see you, as I have a concern.”
She proceeded to tell her about the faint twinges. Lady Matlock asked several pointed questions, Lizzy blushing but answering candidly. The resulting conclusion was benign muscle stretching. Lady Matlock recalled her own travails, including imparting the woeful information that it would likely intensify as the baby grew.
“Elizabeth, I do have a purpose in my unexpected advent. Lord Matlo
ck and I received a note from Lady Catherine this morning. She is in London with Anne. I am postulating that they arrived yesterday and we are invited to dine this evening. I must beg your forgiveness, dear Elizabeth, as I did receive a letter from her several days ago in which she informed me that she knew of your pregnancy. Malcolm enlightened William of this, although she said nothing of traveling to Town.”
Lizzy was torn between confusion and anger. How could he not have shared this with her? She stood abruptly and began pacing, Lady Matlock clearly troubled. “Elizabeth, what…?”
“She confronted me yesterday,” Lizzy said in a shaky voice, Madeline gasping. “She burst into this very room, demanded to see William, and then rudely accused me of all manner of terrible things. William too, actually. Madeline, how could he not have warned me? I was so taken by surprise.”
“Elizabeth, calm yourself. Sit down and tell me what transpired, exactly. What did she say?” After Lizzy had detailed the entire conversation, Lady Matlock was visibly dismayed. Lizzy was crying, emotions in turmoil. “Listen to me, Elizabeth. William would never leave if he for one second envisioned Lady Catherine assaulting you in this fashion. I shudder to imagine his rage when learning of this. You are correct in Lady Catherine not truly understanding Darcy. I am almost sorry for her.” She sighed and shook her head. Taking Lizzy's hands in her own, she resumed, “You, my dear, cannot allow yourself to make the identical mistake. You intimately know your husband. Do you honestly believe he would abandon you to deal with his aunt? If I know William, and I do, he probably wrote to her before he left, unaware as were we all, that she was on her way. Nor would he imagine she would again act so hideously.”
“Why ever not? I was not surprised, Madeline. She despises me and my ‘inferiority’ polluting the halls of Pemberley. She refused to acknowledge our marriage, and now I have the audacity to be carrying a child of low blood. Naturally she would express her outrage. He should have foreseen this!”
“Elizabeth, think clearly. Lady Catherine may never be happy that Anne is not married to Darcy, nor that he chose a wife outside the ton, but much has changed since last September. The entire family has not only accepted you but loves you. William has abundantly clarified his stance on her interference and proven where his loyalties lie. Frankly, we all expected an eventual reconciliation. Malcolm has been quite firm with her and has sensed a softening of her attitude. I am shocked that she spoke to you as she did, especially since she came here seeking conversation with William. I honestly do not comprehend it.” She frowned then sighed. “William will be furious, but also his remorse and guilt at not protecting you will devastate him.”
Lizzy stared at Lady Matlock, face pale, as shivers consumed and tears sprang to her eyes. In a weak voice she asked, “Madeline, is anything she said true? Has marrying me hurt the Darcy name or Pemberley's prospects, or caused William to be irrational? And now this! You are right, he will be devastated and his pain will be my fault. I love him so completely and never thought…” Sobs broke free and she could not continue.
Madeline embraced her, rocking as one did a child. “Shhh… Elizabeth, you are distraught and not sensible. Pregnancy most likely the culprit, coupled with loneliness. Think, child! Without you, William is lost and irrational.” She paused, and then inquired softly, “Has he ever shared with you how desolate he was when you refused him?”
Lizzy was stunned. “How did you know about that?”
Lady Matlock smiled. “I am a woman, Elizabeth, and after his dear mother and now you, I know Fitzwilliam Darcy better than any woman alive. It was not until after your engagement that I put it all together, of course. I had sensed a distraction and agitation in him all winter after sojourning in Hertfordshire with Mr. Bingley and I wondered if he had fallen in love. It was merely a guess, but nothing else was logical. Mr. Darcy is never distracted. His mother once said to me, when William was only twelve, ‘Madeline, my son is serious and reserved but passion lurks in his soul. Watch him ride his horse or play with Georgie and you will know what I mean. When he loves it is with his entire being. Someday he will love a woman, and it will be a fearsome sight.’” She laughed with the memory, and then resumed her narrative.
“Darcy is by far the most focused man I have ever met, yet during that winter he walked in a fog. Abruptly, he seemed to reach a determination and planned his annual trip to Rosings earlier than usual and with an enthusiasm never exhibited before. I learned later, from Richard, that William knew of your presence there from a letter sent by Lady Catherine. Of course, at the time I merely found his rapid transition odd, as did Richard. An offhand remark about a visitor at the parsonage registered not at all to my obtuse son. Instead, he teased Darcy about finally relenting to Lady Catherine's desires regarding Anne, which angered Darcy as it never had previously. When he returned to London from Kent, unexpectedly shortening his intended interval there, he was utterly agonized. Richard said he was ghastly to look at, brusque and rude, and flatly spurned all conversation. He locked himself in his chambers for a month straight, drinking excessively and barely eating. He spoke to no one and denied all socialization, including Richard or us. Georgiana was frantic. Richard was anxious and conveyed the events surrounding their trip, eventually puzzling through it himself. It was immediately clear to me. Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire was visiting Kent, William was in love with her and had proposed or extended some sort of overture, she had shockingly refused and repulsed him, and now he was a shattered shell of the man he had been.”
“I never knew,” Lizzy whispered. “He said once that he was a wreck after Rosings and that he told Georgiana, but I did not comprehend the depth. Whenever I asked him about that time he would evade. I knew it was a painful period for him so I did not press for information in my shame of how I had treated him. What did you do for him?”
“There was nothing I could do. He refused to see anybody. Frankly, I thought he would pull himself out of his despair, but when that did not seem to be happening, we grew increasingly despondent. It was Georgiana who eventually acted. Her love pulled him out of his desolation—barely, however. He left London at the end of May, pale and ill, at least twenty pounds lighter, and retreated to Pemberley. I was absolutely flabbergasted at his appearance. We saw him from time to time over the late summer, but he remained withdrawn, depressed, and exceedingly edgy. He attended to business, but there was no joy in it. By the end of that horrid summer, he crawled out of the deep mire and began to live again. He laughed even less and smiled rarely, but at least he attended to his work and his sister. He regained his weight and strength, and we rejoiced. Yet, I saw a grief in his eyes that equaled anything I had seen with the death of his parents. I am positive that if you had not reentered his life, William would have remained a bachelor forever, lonely and bitter.”
Lizzy was crying silently and Lady Matlock kissed her temple lightly. “Elizabeth, what happened at Rosings is none of my affair and obviously you two have resolved the issues. I tell you this not to further distress you, but to hearten you. As I stated, I know William well, love him almost as much as my own children. His passion for you is frankly beyond my full comprehension. Malcolm and I care for each other, love in our own comfortable way, but I have never experienced what you two have.” She laughed softly and brushed a tear from Elizabeth's cheek. “Seeing the misery involved with your love, I think I am relieved! Yet, it is as Anne declared; William loves with his entire being. As you do, Elizabeth. Neither of you would have found happiness apart. Only together are you complete.”
She pulled away and intently peered into Lizzy's eyes. “If marrying you had led to the utter ruin of Pemberley or total excommunication from society, William still would have done it. For him there was no choice, and the only pain would be in a separation from you. However, this is not the case. Do you not see, Elizabeth? William is whole as your husband, he is stronger and more capable, his purpose explicit. Certainly there is joy and happiness, but it is more than that. You have filled an
empty place in him, just as the sonnets proclaim. Lady Catherine is upside down in her assessment. Bloodlines, upbringing, rank… it is nonsense. Mr. Darcy is supremely more competent and engaged as Master of Pemberley now.”
“The impertinence of the girl! To order me about and accuse me of not caring for my own nephew! The situation is intolerable, I tell you, Anne, intolerable. Mark my words, daughter, that woman will turn his head and he will storm and rage, blaming me for her ignoble, vulgar deportment. If he had listened to me and his dear mother's wishes and married you, a properly bred lady, none of this would have occurred.”
“William and I never would have married, mother,” Anne de Bourgh whispered.
Lady Catherine rounded on her daughter. “I beg your pardon, young lady. You would have married Fitzwilliam had I ordered it!”
Anne flinched but continued, “We did not love each other that way, Mama, and William needs a strong woman. Not a sickly girl as I.”
Lady Catherine airily waved her hand. “Love! What nonsense it that, Anne? Marriage for love is acceptable for the common man, the peasants who have no true responsibilities, but not for upper classes. Fitzwilliam appreciates this and would have performed his duty if she had not bewitched him. She probably threw herself at him, compromising him, and trapping him into marriage! Women of her class are capable of anything. Anne, why are you giggling as an imbecile?”
Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley tds-2 Page 19