Mr. Darcy's Promise

by Jeanna Ellsworth

  Not only did he not love her, but she was no better than any other household member in his eyes. And being the gentleman that he was he would never take a servant to bed. It all made perfect sense now. Although she tried to remain composed, the painful reminder that she was in nothing near a love match sent a stab to her heart.She bit her lip and wiped at her eyes. Any moment now Georgiana would want an answer from her about what it was really like to be in love. She reached for her handkerchief but was too late. Georgiana had turned around and seen her tears.I had been doing so well, even hoping that a friendship was forming! And now I realize that it was simply Mr. Darcy being kind and generous to me, just like he is with his servants. “I am terribly sorry, Georgiana. I fear I have a headache and cannot go on. Please forgive me.”

  She turned abruptly, feeling tears slide down her cheeks as she walked back to the house. Her lack of attention meant that she soon found herself in the garden maze. She was two turns into it when she realized it. So far on her walks with Mr. Darcy they had not walked the maze. At least he will not think to look for me here. She continued to walk and make random turns, not paying any attention to the direction she was going. It was a direct reflection of the path her thoughts took. She reached a dead end and saw a bench. Tears stung her eyes and her chest felt unbearably tight. She had let herself begin to hope and that was turning out to be a very dangerous privilege. This is what it felt to hope, and then to be disappointed in that hope.

  How could she have let herself expect more than companionship? And why did her heart hurt so deeply when it had only been a short time ago that she learned to value his friendship? Did she love him? Was that why understanding his motives in attending to her seemed to hurt so badly? She would not let her heart dwell on the inevitable. She had committed to herself on her wedding day, and would recommit herself now; she would be a good wife and only expect companionship. She would not set herself up for this kind of pain again. Unmet expectations were painful. It was easier said than done. Her chest convulsed with the movement of a sob. She began to talk quietly to herself to help her make sense of her thoughts and feelings. Of course, she came to no new conclusions, and soon her handkerchief was soaked through with tears. Mr. Darcy did not love her. If he did, he would have said so. There was no reason he should not. Why did this old knowledge feel so fresh and new?

  *****

  Georgiana knocked on her brother’s study door and waited to hear him speak “enter.” She took a deep breath and turned the knob.

  “Come in, Georgie, what can I do for you? I was just finishing up with a few things.” He frowned. Her spirits were clearly down again.

  Georgiana looked at her hands before she spoke. “Brother, I fear I have made your wife upset, but for the life of me I do not know why. One minute we were talking and I asked her a question and the next she was crying and complaining of a headache and then she ran off. I am so sorry, but I do not know what I said.”

  “Tell me exactly what you said.” He thought back on what her mood had been the last time they were together. She had seemed everything positive and engaging.

  “I was telling her how more mature my outlook on people and love was since that awful experience with Wickham. I have learned a lot, William. But I was explaining that there was a part of me that stopped believing in love until I saw you two together. I was going to say how I now believed a love match was possible as I have witnessed it with the two of you.”

  “What did you say exactly?” He did not wish to place blame, but Georgiana didn’t know their marriage was precarious for Elizabeth. He knew he loved Elizabeth, valued her more than his own life, and was fairly certain that she did not return his feelings. At least not yet. Time, just a little more time. He had hoped that things were changing but he couldn’t be sure.

  “I do not know for sure. I think I said something about your marriage being a love match and then I asked her what it was like to be in love. Did I say something wrong?” She started wringing her hands.

  “No, no,” Darcy assured her. “Do not fret, I am sure something else upset her. Did you see where she went?”

  “Do not patronize me, William! She was fine before I asked her what it felt like and then she started crying. She entered the maze.” Georgiana had not the emotional fortitude to endure her brother making her feel like a little girl. She turned to leave.

  “Wait,” her brother said quickly. “I am sorry. There are circumstances that complicate me explaining things, but at the moment I do not know the answers to the questions I know you have. Forgive me, Georgiana. I do not mean to patronize. It is hard for me to see you so grown up. Thank you for coming and telling me. I will go find her now.” He didn’t even bother to take his jacket. It was a warm afternoon out and his jacket would just make his chest feel tighter than it already was.

  The maze wasn’t difficult to navigate. If one ever got lost, the architect had arranged it so that they could stand on the many benches to determine their position. But her being lost was not what he was worrying about. What he was worried about was whether or not she wanted to be found.

  He entered the maze and walked quickly but quietly, listening for her all the while. He was deep into the maze when he heard sobbing. She was mumbling something as well. He couldn’t quite make it out . . . The new and the old . . . companions . . . or was it companionship? She was probably two hedges away, nestled in the heart of the maze, but he would have to veer away from her first in order to get on the right path. He decided it was not such a good idea to eavesdrop on her. The bits and pieces of what he heard were not making sense anyway. When her heart-wrenching sobs began anew, he turned to leave to find the right path.

  In one more turn he should see her. He could hear her better now. He pressed on, only wanting to comfort her. Every bone in his body wanted to hold her and he would permit it this time. When she cried on the way to London on the day of their wedding he felt he couldn’t, but they had built something over the last few weeks. That had to count for something. He saw her now. She sat with her shoulders slumped and her head in her hands, looking impossibly fragile in her grief. She looked so fragile and breakable. He focused on the few stray curls that framed her face, and closed the gap cautiously as if she was a frightened wild animal.

  “Dearest Elizabeth,” he murmured. Her head jerked up. “Georgiana said you were upset, and I can see she was correct.” He slowly took a seat on the bench next to her. He ached to reach for her hand. Oh who cares, by gads! Take her hand already. It is not going to bite me. So I will have to endure the impulses that are all too appealing! But this is not about what I want. She needs me!

  “Mr. Darcy, I fear I am not in the best mood, and I suspect I will be poor company.” She heard the sadness in her own voice. She twisted the handkerchief she held in her fingers.

  He took both her hands in his and held them firmly. Her fingers stilled briefly, but then began to move again. He tried to speak as gently as he could. “I believe I told you once that I always want to know what you are thinking. Will you not tell me? Perhaps I can make it better.”

  The only way Elizabeth could see how his knowing her thoughts would improve the situation was if he truly cared for her. Since she knew that was not possible, she only saw the folly in his logic. Even so, she could sense his sincerity and dared to glance up to his face at his kind eyes. His warm hands caressed hers rhythmically. Her aching heart calmed slightly at his touch. She reminded herself that this was nothing more than simple kindness. He simply saw her as a damsel in distress in whom he felt obligated to offer his services. She felt a flash of anger.

  Before she could bite her tongue, she spoke those awful thoughts. “I am more than a damsel in distress that you feel you need to rescue or your honor will be damned!” She read several things in his face at once. First she saw surprise, then confusion, and then something that looked like pain. Why did I have to open my mouth and say such an awful thing? She broke down in fresh tears and tried to free her hands from hi
s in order to wipe her eyes.

  He reluctantly released her hands, but at the sight of her demoralized pose, could not help himself. He reached around her, putting one arm around her back and shoulders. The other he wrapped around her and lifted her chin and pulled it up towards his shoulder. He knew what he wanted to say but struggled to find the strength and courage to do so. She may not be ready to hear my feelings for her.

  Her words echoed in his mind once again. He wanted to say she was more than a damsel in distress, much, much more; she was his very reason for living. Instead all he could say was, “I used to worry about duty and honor, but a certain lady I met helped me see that one’s heart is all that matters. Your heart matters to me, Elizabeth. It is not out of duty that I am here.”

  He held her closer and felt her tears stain his shirt where his waistcoat was unbuttoned. He felt courage in the fact that she didn’t pull away so he continued, “If rescuing you is my plight, then I will gladly do it.” He felt her hands against his chest through his shirt. It should have driven him wild, but his concern for her emotional wellbeing was far greater than the fulfilling of such fantasies. He kept holding her and she started to relax a little.

  He took this as a good sign, so he continued, “I do not know what made you need rescuing, but it is my every wish to help. You are giving me the opportunity to show you who I really am.” She sniffled. “Take a deep breath, people around here love and ardently admire and appreciate you.” It was as close as he dared come to saying that he loved her. He did not want to push her or make her feel obligated in any way towards him. He kept his words coming. Although he was careful to speak in somewhat cryptic and guarded terms, he was opening up his heart to her. He listened as her breathing slowed and she relaxed further into the embrace. He kept whispering his thoughts.

  Moments passed that felt like hours, until he did not know how long he had been holding her. He had only hoped to hold her until her tears stopped, but that was a while ago and she was not putting up any more resistance. She seemed to have relaxed deeply into him. Her weight was fully on his chest now, and he had to adjust his posture a little to be more comfortable. When he did this one of her hands fell from his chest down onto his lap. Could she have fallen asleep?

  “Elizabeth?” There was no answer. He looked down at her face which was covered with her lovely curls. Her eyes were closed and her breathing deep and regular. She was beautiful, and it was clear she was asleep in his arms. He carefully shifted so his back would lean against the bench and guided her head down to his lap. The late afternoon sun was just reaching the horizon and tall shadows were dancing in the maze. He looked down at her sleeping face and smoothed her perfect curls away towards her forehead and neck. He continued to caress her hair for some time. He let his hands and fingers run through them, even taking out the last of the pins which were not doing much good anyway. He realized he would pay dearly for succumbing to this fantasy, but she was asleep and he could not help himself.

  The warmth of her face on his lap and his fingers in her hair became distracting, and so he tried to steer his thoughts into appropriate avenues. Like her laughter that he so longed to hear. Her impertinent looks that drove him wild. He thought of those conversations he had had with her that only proved she was the only one he could have married. He remembered feeding the chickens together, and the way she was so at ease in those moments. They had candled the eggs last night and the chicks were growing nicely. He chuckled at the memory. The last time he had made sure to bring two candles. She had estimated that the eggs would hatch in about nine or ten days. Together, they had promised to candle them every other night to track the progress. His eyes began to be heavy as well, but only because he felt such peace at having her so close to him. Would she become cold soon? The sun was setting and he could no longer feel its warmth on their bodies. He did not wish to lose the moment, and so he waited. Soon the dusk was nearly dark, and still she did not move. Her breathing was deep and regular. He was getting chilled without his jacket. If he was cold, she must be too. He took off his waist coat and put it over her arms. He knew it wasn’t much, but it would help.

  Elizabeth had been dreaming again. It was the same dream that she had had for many of the past weeks. She was on the swing under the cedar tree being pushed my William. She knew the scene felt familiar but she patiently waited it out knowing that soon his hands would reach around for her lower swollen abdomen. One minute she could feel him push her, the next she would see him pushing her. His face was bright and cheerful and it had a look of peace that was genuine. He looked older, more distinguished than the dream had shown him before. She felt him stop the swing and knew soon she would feel his arms wrapped around her body. She waited for that moment but instead she heard squeals of laughter off to the side. She let her eyes veer in that direction and saw two little boys playing. The oldest was near the water’s edge with a paper boat. The youngest, about two years old was following the oldest example. The oldest was getting irritated at the youngest and pushed him away. She called out to them, “William, no! No pushing!” The sound of her own voice woke her up.

  “I did not mean to push,” Mr. Darcy said, feeling a sharp jolt of shame. “I was just readjusting myself. I am sorry,” Mr. Darcy said. Was she finally awake?

  It took a moment to understand her surroundings. Mr. Darcy’s voice had come from above her and what little she could see she was horizontal. Her face was warm but everywhere else was quite cold. “Mr. Darcy? Where are we?” She tried to sit up and felt his hands assist her. Had she been sleeping in his lap? She looked up at his face. He was evaluating her face but even in the darkness his eyes were dark and penetrating.

  “We are still in the maze, but I fear we should probably get back or we might have to spend the night in here.” He hesitantly joked. He didn’t quite know what her mood was now that she was awake.

  Memories of him coming to her and seeing her crying flooded her. She recalled his sweet comforting words in her ears all over again. His very touch had been so soothing. The last thing she remembered thinking was: He would not hold a servant like he is now. And he would not say such sweet things to a servant. And his heartbeat she felt in his chest would not be quickened like it was if he felt she was nothing more than a servant. It had been a sweet moment but she never expected herself to fall asleep so quickly. It was as if all her stresses and fears had seemed to dissipate as his comforting words continued. He didn’t exactly say he loved her, but now she knew that he cared. She knew she was more than a servant to him. Perhaps not quite a wife, but more than a servant.

  Chapter 8

  A

  t lunch the next day, all three Darcys received mail. Elizabeth eagerly opened two letters: one from Jane as well as her father. Mr. Darcy chuckled over one from Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Georgiana perused a letter from an acquaintance.

  “I am instructed by Richard to ask you, Elizabeth, ‘what do you call a shoe made out of a banana?’”

  “Hmmm, I do not know . . .” she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

  “A slipper!” Mr. Darcy shook his head. “I fear my deliverance of such jokes is not up to his standard. I also fear his jokes are getting worse, but I am happy to announce that he is planning to visit us here at Pemberley next Wednesday and plans on staying for a few weeks. Perhaps then I do not have to play the clown and deliver his jokes for him.” He saw Elizabeth’s face light up in pleasure, but Georgiana’s did not. “Did you hear me, Georgiana? I said Richard is coming to visit.”

  Georgiana looked up from her letter. “Oh, splendid.” She knew her tone did not match her words and saw the concern march across both their faces. She tried again. “I do so enjoy his company.”

  Elizabeth frowned. Something in Georgiana’s letter must surely be distracting her. Wickham would not have the presumption to write her at Pemberley, would he? “Georgiana, what do you call a shoe made out of a banana?” she tested.

  “I do not know.” She stood up
and left her half-eaten luncheon as she exited the room.

  Elizabeth wondered if she should talk with her further. Georgiana seemed to have done better for a little while, but was now back to the saddened tearful shell she had been a week ago. Elizabeth met William’s eyes with her own for a brief moment, and read deep concern in them. The more she thought about it, the more she knew William needed to know about the threatening letter from Wickham. She did not want to breach the confidence that Georgiana had requested, but at the same time honesty with William seemed paramount.

  *****

  Mrs. Reynolds had three baskets of treats, candles, and bread ready when Elizabeth came to the kitchen. “Now, little Miss Madison is one of the dearest and most sincere girls you will ever meet. Her mother, Mrs. Mae Madison has been ill, and the little miss has had to take a great deal of responsibilities on her shoulders. She may be only twelve but she is very mature and responsible. This basket is for them. This one right here is for the Petersens. They have had to struggle with their farm because it is not draining properly, and their oldest son joined the navy, leaving them without the hands they need. The last basket is for the widow, Mrs. Smith. Her husband died six months ago, leaving her with two young boys and a darling little girl of three years. The boys have not yet been able to take on the farm’s responsibilities but the neighbors have been helping a great deal.”

  Elizabeth tried to memorize what she just heard. “There is so much heartache,” she said. “I hope Georgiana’s and my visit will help.” She looked to Georgiana, who was gazing at the baskets, yet not really focusing on them. “Georgiana, is there anything else I should know about these three tenants before we visit them?”