Mr. Darcy's Promise

by Jeanna Ellsworth

  Georgiana seemed to get more control of herself and dinner was served. Both Darcy and Elizabeth kept trying to engage Georgiana in conversation but she still seemed low in spirits and did not offer much back.

  Mr. Darcy started telling Georgiana all he learned about chickens today and embellished the story a little to see her smile. She only nodded and murmured sporadically. He then decided since she wasn’t eating anyway, that dinner was over. “Georgiana, I have not heard you play the pianoforte. I would be delighted to hear what you have been working on.”

  “William, I fear I am not in the mood to play tonight. For if I did, it would be very depressing music, indeed. I think I will retire early, thank you.” Georgiana got up from her chair, placed her napkin on the table, and removed Elizabeth’s shawl. She turned to Elizabeth, “Forgive me my rudeness. I am very weary.”

  After she left, Darcy stood and escorted Elizabeth to the music room, his worry evident on his face. Elizabeth took his arm, relishing in the sensation it gave her to be close to him. “Fitzwilliam? What is wrong with Georgiana?”

  His heart leapt for joy for a moment; she had used his Christian name without being reminded! “I do not know. Her last letter begged to come home to Pemberley and yet she behaves as if she does not wish to be here.”

  Elizabeth didn’t get that impression at all, “On the contrary, I feel she clung to you quite forcefully. I do believe she missed you.”

  Darcy’s eyebrows furrowed. “She is always in the mood to play for me when I request it! Something is troubling her. Perhaps I should go to her.”

  Elizabeth sat down on the chaise next to him and patted his arm. “Sometimes it takes a woman’s touch. I will try to talk to her soon and find out what is the matter. Now in the meantime, your mood is so dark right now I believe a good wife would try to lighten it.” He looked up at her, wondering what she could mean. “Since I do not play well, I am sure to make you laugh as I attempt to play something on the pianoforte. But I must caution you, you may smile like you are now, but if you openly laugh at me I may never touch the keys again!”

  Thrilled at the idea that he could listen to Elizabeth play for him, he nodded his head. “I shall do my best to control my inner laughter, for it would be a tragedy for you to stop playing. Well, my dear ‘good wife,' I believe I must insist that you lighten my mood.”

  *****

  Elizabeth played for him for some time, and he found that her protestations of being unskilled to be a gross exaggeration. He requested a song as well and she sang for him. He sat back with a peculiar look on his face, and afterwards pressed a kiss to her hand before they retreated to their various spaces.

  It was getting late, but Elizabeth kept thinking about the eggs in the barn. Now that the rain had stopped, she concluded she would slip out and check on them, but first she needed to gather her supplies. She found her way to the kitchen and found a whiskey glass. She put her shawl around her shoulders and used the candle to light her way to the front door. Most of the servants had already gone to bed, and she had thought she was alone. The sound of Mr. Darcy’s deep voice startled her as she reached the front door, and she nearly dropped the candle on the floor before straightening.

  “Where are you going at this time of night?”

  “I was going to check on the eggs.”

  He looked at her with a small grin, recalling the wonderful time they had shared that afternoon discussing chickens. “In the dark? Do you mind if I accompany you?”

  “Night time is the only time I can do what I am wanting with them.” She saw his eyebrow rise in puzzlement and she added, “You will see, you may come if you desire to. It will not take long.” It was late and wet outside, but she knew she wouldn’t be long so she just wrapped her shawl around her more tightly. The pathway that led to the barn was familiar enough, but she had not counted on the slipperiness of the ground. She felt her boots slip a few times and Mr. Darcy reached out for her to steady her, remaining close all the way.

  When they reached the barn Elizabeth put the candle and glass down on a shelf. “What are you doing with a whiskey glass?” Darcy asked. His interest was piqued now. Here they were, together in the barn with nothing but a single candle making shadows dance along the walls. He took a moment to appreciate her beauty, a habit that he quite enjoyed. She moved so gracefully around the barn, and the candlelight showed the brightness and loveliness of her eyes.

  Elizabeth saw him examining her, and glanced away briefly, feeling conscious of the intimacy of the moment. She smiled at him. “You will see. I am going to see how far along the eggs are and it will tell me when to expect them to hatch.” She lifted the nest box door and slid her hand in carefully under the hen and pulled out two eggs. She placed them on a pile of hay. He motioned to Darcy to bring the candle over. She reached for the whiskey glass, held it up to her face and inverted it. “Now, if you do not mind, it will help if you hold the candle while I hold the egg and glass. Once I have the egg on top of the bottom of the glass, put the candle inside the glass, but only for a few seconds at a time; the candle will go out if it stays in too long.”

  He nodded in assent. He stepped closer and watched her pick up an egg and then cup the lowest portion of it between her thumb and forefinger. She wrapped her other fingers over the base of the inverted glass, therefore sealing the gap between the egg and glass. The egg was held in place above the glass by her slender fingers.

  “Now put the candle inside the glass and look at the egg.” He did as she instructed and the lower part of the egg started glowing in her hand. She pushed her face closer to the egg. “There in the center, do you see that dark spot and the spiderlike vessels?” He leaned in and examined the egg for an extended moment. The glow started fading and she said hastily, “Take the candle out quickly!”

  “Sorry.” The candlelight lit up the barn again.

  “Try again but do not forget to take the candle in and out frequently.”

  Her arm held up the egg and inverted glass again. His arm that held the candle was so close to hers. Their faces were close enough that if he turned his head towards her he could brush up against her cheeks. This close, he could smell the fresh lavender in her toilette water, and it was intoxicating.

  Elizabeth was quite conscious of his proximity. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, she thought ruefully.I am already having a hard time making sense of my feelings for him and moments like these make it all the more difficult. She had begun to care for and respect him, but that was only appropriate now that they were spending so much time together. He had been quite engaging this afternoon and it was exciting to see him enjoy himself with the chickens. It was moments like this where he touched her or was close to her that her mind and heart veered in different directions. What her mind understood was that Mr. Darcy was being kind and polite and accommodating to her needs. He proved trustworthy and generous too. He was providing for his wife, as the gentleman he was raised to be would do. This did not mean he cared for her.

  But what her heart understood was that his eyes often spoke of more than kindness. Her heart remembered his gentle touches and kisses on her hands, and thought that he would not do so if he did not enjoy them. Her heart also told her of her budding feelings for him every time he touched her or was near her. She felt a sudden desire to turn her head towards him and look at him. Her face was just below his as he was leaning over to see the egg. She could smell his familiar scent, and could see the day’s stubble forming on his face. She could hear his breathing and felt it move her hair as he exhaled.

  She forced her attention back to the egg. “That dark spot in the middle is the chick forming. It looks like it is growing well, but this is the first time I have candled them.”

  He had been consciously reminding himself to breathe. Every time he placed the candle inside the glass his arm would brush against hers and his heart would skip a beat. It took the candle flickering to remind him to remove his arm and allow the flame to grow bright again. He wondered
if they would hatch and grow their feathers in time before the winter storms hit. He knew from the confusing words she had uttered this afternoon that these eggs meant something more to her than simple farm animals. “Elizabeth, how long before they hatch? It looks like there is still quite a bit of light area.”

  “If I remember correctly the hen only sits on the eggs for twenty-one days. I have only candled them towards the end so I do not know how far along they are now. Perhaps they are less than a week into it? Maybe more.”

  “So that means two more weeks before they hatch?”

  She nodded. “The egg will be entirely dark when it is time to hatch except for the base. Have you ever watched eggs hatch?”

  He was overcome with admiration for her brightness and inquisitiveness. He had done the right thing in marrying her. How could l live without her? She looked as if she were awaiting a response, so he refocused his mind. “If I have never fed chickens before you cannot expect me to have witnessed eggs hatching. But I confess I am overwhelmed with the desire to see it with you. Promise me that you and I will watch them together.” She looked back up at him and their eyes locked. He was just inches away. He leaned his head forward and his forehead rested on hers. She held her breath. He reached with his only open hand and placed it gently on her waist. “Promise me, dearest Elizabeth.” His voice was barely a whisper.

  She could barely hear his last words over the sound of her racing heart. “I promise.” She whispered. Her waist was tingling where his hand was. She closed her eyes. So he is to kiss me now? Am I ready for this? Her heart beat faster as she waited for her first kiss. Yes, I want him to kiss me. Suddenly he raised his head and stepped away, his hand still on her waist. She opened her eyes to the dark surrounding them. The candle had gone out. She pressed her lips together, thankful for the dark that cloaked her disappointed face.

  Darcy tried to find his voice. They now had far more privacy than he could have wished for. The candle had blown out just as he was leaning in to kiss her. Although he desperately wished for this, and had imagined numerous times, the impulse was premature. He didn’t want to rush her, and, after all, he had made her a promise. He was finding keeping that sort of promise to be very trying indeed. His hand remained on her waist and couldn’t find the strength to remove it. He cleared his throat. “Elizabeth, I fear we will have to try to make it back without any light.” His voice was shaky and soft. He didn’t really want to leave; what he really wanted was to pull her close and take the time to find her lips and cover her in kisses. He wanted to feel her next to him here in the dark, and to taste that beautiful impertinent mouth.

  Her eyes were trying to find his form in the darkness but she could see nothing. She put her eyes in the direction of his soft voice. There would never be a better time to say what she desperately wanted to say. Here, in the dark, it felt like she could speak honestly. She placed her hand over where his still rested on her waist. He pulled away slightly but she held it. “I need to tell you something. And if I do not tell you now, I do not know if I will find the courage later.” He gave her waist a subtle squeeze and she continued. “That day in the carriage, our wedding day, I was not in the best of moods. I fear I am a woman with decided opinions, and I could not bear the thought that I had lost my ability to choose whom I would marry. My mind was quite decided against our marriage.”

  “Elizabeth, do not . . .” He did not want to hear from her lips how she hated him. His heart could not bear it, not after having seen such positive indications over the last few days and weeks. Not after today.

  “No, please, I beg of you not to interrupt.” She took a deep breath and ensured his silence before she continued. “My mind was quite decided against the marriage and I felt forced into doing it. You looked so anxious at the wedding that I knew you felt the same way.” She heard him take a deep breath filling the darkness. This was going to be harder than she thought. “And in the carriage, I could not stop crying, no matter what I did. I was in a very dark place. It was not until today that I realized how kind you had been to me to wipe away the tears when I had not the energy to do so. I must thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shown me. I did not know what to expect when we married, but I have been treated fairly and for that I must thank you.” She lifted his hand off her waist and kissed it before she held it in her own.

  Darcy was grateful for the darkness as well, for his eyes had tears forming in them. He thought about her words. He wanted her to feel more than his kindness and generosity, and he wanted more from her than her thankfulness. He did not trust his voice, for his eyes were treacherous already. He started leading her through the darkness but only got a few steps before she cried out.

  “No, wait! We must put the eggs back!” She was still cradling one in her palm, and let go of his hand to search for the other on the hay. She could not find it. She knelt down and felt around, careful to move lightly. “I cannot find it, Fitzwilliam!” Her voice was frantic. She heard him step behind her, making his way in her direction.

  “Where did you put it?” He could hear her hands rustling the hay. From where her voice came from, he could tell that she had bent over or was kneeling. He followed the sounds until his hands found her shoulders. He knelt beside her and started feeling around for the egg. He heard her sniffle and knew that she had begun to cry. Yes, these eggs meant something more than simple farm animals or even a hobby of hers. His hand touched something round and warm. “I found it!”

  She reached her hands over to where his voice was and found his shoulders. In spite of any hesitation, she pulled him close to her and cried, “Thank you! You do not know how relieved I am!”

  His arms wrapped around her and held her close. He relished in the warmth of her body but then realized she was shaking. “Are you chilled?”

  She pulled away and said, “I only brought my shawl because I did not think it would take this long.”

  He released her completely and took off his jacket. “Now, where are you? If I may, I will place this coat on your shoulders, but I fear I cannot see what I am doing.”

  She spoke then and felt the warm coat being brought around her shoulders. She tilted her head down and smelled the comforting cedar and sage, grateful then that he couldn’t see her do it. They picked their way back to the nest box and slid the eggs under the hen. He took her hand and started making his way out of the barn. It was slow work, not only because he couldn’t see anything but because he didn’t want the moment to end. Once outside, the moon shone through the clouds enough to help them find their way back to the house. Even when they were inside, Darcy couldn’t find it in himself to let go of her hand. They found the halls were still lit up with one or two candles. He took one of the candles with his free hand and continued to walk with her. He knew she should get warmed up soon or she would risk a fever. He led her to the library and set her down on the chaise while he stoked the fire.

  Elizabeth, still shivering, looked around curiously. She hadn’t spent much time in the grand library at Pemberley because of the cataloging being done. She had lingered in the front room, and sometimes ventured down a time or two to get a new book but that was it. The walls were lined with books, and two aisles of books reached halfway out into the room. Books were everywhere, in piles, on the floor, on the tables stacked five high, and in the corners.

  Darcy saw her looking around the room. “Forgive the disorder. If we can but endure it a little while longer, the cataloging will be complete and it will be the most organized room in Pemberley.”

  “Oh, I do not mind,” she said with a small smile. “Papa’s study looked much the same. Although he suffered from an excess of books and a scarcity of shelves. It reminds me of home.” The heat of the fire began to grow, and she stood to approach it. He knelt with his back to her, still adding wood to it. She hesitated at the sight of his broad shoulders and the shape of his arms in his fine linen shirt. Her hand reached for his shoulder before she knelt beside him. The fire was burning merrily,
now, and she held her hands out in front of the flames. She sat wrapped in his jacket, leaving only her fingertips visible in front of the fire. They sat in silence for some time.

  He remembered that she called Longbourn home. He had hoped she felt comfortable at Pemberley. “Do you miss Longbourn?”

  She contemplated the question. “Not as much as I thought I would. Jane is faithful in her letter writing and tells me all I am missing. My father is much the same.” She laughed softly after a moment. “My mother does not stop telling all who will listen about how I managed to find ‘such a fine husband’ with my impertinent ways. And when she is not doing that, she is making wedding plans. Jane tells me all about Mr. Bingley and their engagement.” Elizabeth didn’t tell him about how Jane told her of her first kiss.

  “She is happy,” she continued, since it seemed that Mr. Darcy was still listening curiously. “And it seems Lydia and Kitty are just as preoccupied with the officers as they always have been. Mary found a new book on sermons and has started spouting her newfound opinions on the role of the woman in the home. It seems she is displeased with our mother’s long-fixed habits. Oh, and Charlotte Lucas has had a new suitor visiting regularly. He is much older than she is, but he has been kind to her.”