“You must love her very much,” his sister said with a happy sigh.
He was filled with alarm. Up to now, he had not reflected on the necessity of continuing to lie to his sister. Could he even do that? He wasn’t sure. “Yes, I suppose,” he muttered. “Georgiana, when you are older you will come to understand that marriage is often founded on other things than love. Mutual regard, in some cases. And in others, I suppose, the bringing together of noble families or the consolidation of wealth.”
She looked up at him as if he had just spoken to her in a foreign tongue. “Yes, I realise that, dear brother. Mrs. Annesley has talked to me at length about my duties and obligations.” She smiled. “So there is no need for you to talk in that way. You have married for love—that much is as clear as day to me.”
“What?” He was so surprised by her statement that he forgot his manners momentarily. “Forgive me,” he muttered, moments later. “But what can have given you that impression?” After all, he had gone to great lengths to fulfil his promise to allow Elizabeth her freedom.
His sister looked at him strangely. “I don’t know, brother. Everything about you two. The way you look at each other at dinner. The way you are watching her now as she walks in the garden.”
“Oh I was not,” he said, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “I was simply checking the weather to see if it was suitable for a spot of hunting later.”
“It seems to have taken you rather longer than it usually might.”
He looked at his sister in amazement. “I beg your pardon?”
She smiled. “Forgive me, brother. I did not wish to embarrass you. I am used to the company of women, who are rather more open about their feelings, I suppose.”
“You did not embarrass me!” He turned back to the window. What was she talking about? Of course he was not embarrassed. If these were the fanciful thoughts Mrs. Annesley was putting into her head, then he would have to have a word with that woman. His sister had already been waylaid by one governess and he would not allow it to happen again.
He was about to summon the woman when he stopped and took in his surroundings. Elizabeth was still wandering around outside and he realised with a jolt of surprise that he had in fact been standing there for rather a long time. It was true he had gone to the window to see if there were clouds in the distance, but had stayed there after he saw his new wife. He could not recall how long it had been, but he recalled hearing the clock strike the half-hour and it was now five minutes to three.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I suppose,” he said, feeling rather confused by the whole thing.
* * *
“Do you mind if I join you?” Darcy asked, clearing his throat.
Elizabeth turned around and her hand flew to her chest.
“I am sorry. I realise I promised you would be free here.”
“No, it is not that,” she said with a frown that did little to diminish the smile on her face. “You gave me a fright. I did not hear you approach. Of course you must join me. I would love to hear more about the history of the place.”
He nodded. He loved talking about the history of the place, which he had researched extensively. “The estate has been in my family for hundreds of years.” He felt a pang of regret. One thing he hadn’t considered when he proposed marriage had been the prospect of heirs. He had been so worked up by Caroline Bingley’s foolishness that he would have done anything to free himself of her and women like her. But had he done himself a disservice as a result? He glanced at Elizabeth. He had promised her freedom from the usual constraints of marriage. His word was everything to him. Yet how could he let down his ancestors who had passed this place from generation to generation?
Perhaps he would raise the prospect with her in the future when she had had time to settle in. Yes, he would do that. Now was hardly the right time when she had just arrived.
They walked on and he pointed out all of the places and structures that were special to him. Her delight in the place was so evident that they walked for miles without even realising it.
Chapter Thirteen
As time passed, Darcy’s affection for his wife only grew deeper. She was an interesting companion who took an interest in so many subjects that they never ran out of things to talk about. In fact, it was the opposite. They talked endlessly on all manner of subjects to the extent that the days started to fly past. The strangest thing was that Darcy did not at all mind the company, when he had always thought of himself as a solitary sort. In fact, when he was not with her, he often pined for her company.
He was starting to suspect that his sister’s assessment was correct; that he was, in fact, in love with Elizabeth.
Not that he had been able to bring himself to tell her. How could he? Every day he went back and forth on this question, pacing in his study as he considered arguments for and against telling his wife how he truly felt.
It always came back to one thing: his word and honour. He had made her a vow. By declaring his love, he would be reneging on that promise, would he not? If he did that, he would be no better than the clergyman who had sought to bully his way into Elizabeth’s affections.
At the same time, he knew he could not simply carry on as he was. At night, he lay awake thinking of her. He was not sure how much more of that he could tolerate.
On one such morning, he had felt a heady sense that things were about to change. He bounded down the stairs, intent on finding his wife and declaring his love for her. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, however, he found himself face-to-face not with his wife, but with his mother’s sister.
“Hello, my dear Fitzwilliam.” Lady Catherine said, with a slight smile that did not reach all the way to her eyes.
“Aunt,” he said, startled beyond measure. He could not recall the last time she had journeyed to Pemberley. Only a short time had passed since she had visited him at Netherfield, so why had she sought him out again so soon? “I was not expecting you.”
“Can an aunt not visit her niece and nephew now and then? Good Lord, Fitzwilliam, from the look on your face it appears you are not at all pleased to see me.”
“That is not true,” he muttered. “I am delighted to see you. It is just…” he stopped himself. His misgivings were more on his wife’s account than on his own. His aunt was an overbearing character, but she was his mother’s sister and that would always mean a great deal to him. “Come on,” he said, feeling rather deflated from his earlier high spirits. “Let us eat breakfast. I know how unpleasant you find the food at inns.”
“Dreadful places,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
His misgivings returned. His aunt despised travelling—usually he had to travel to Kent to see her because of her reluctance to venture more than a day’s journey away.
They entered the breakfast parlour and he felt the usual jolt of pleasure on seeing his wife. By the looks of it, she had been at the table for some time, to judge from the half-empty cup of tea at her right hand.
“Good morning,” she said, looking up. The smile froze on her face as she realised he was not alone. “Lady Catherine.”
“Miss Bennet.” She shivered, though Darcy knew his aunt had always enjoyed the cold—she often declared that it was good for the constitution and refused to have more than the most meagre of fires at Rosings. “Goodness, it is chilly this morning. Perhaps you would be so kind as to fetch me a blanket.”
His wife shot the woman a strange look. “Mrs. Darcy.”
Lady Catherine waved her hand dismissively. “Unfortunately, yes. But that’s quite beside the point. Fetch me a blanket, will you?”
Loath as he was to raise his voice to his aunt, Darcy could stand it no longer. “Please do not address my wife in such a manner, aunt. If you need a blanket, you need only ask Mrs. Reynolds or one of the maids.”
“But Fitzwilliam, it seems only fitting that the girl ought to make herself useful around here. After all, she is hardly suited to a place like this by birth—you yourself declared it s
o the last time we spoke.”
Darcy cursed himself for ever allowing himself to be drawn on the matter by his aunt, who he now saw would not rest until she had driven Elizabeth from the place. “That is enough,” he murmured.
“It’s quite alright,” Elizabeth said, getting to her feet. “My appetite has waned in the last few moments, and I am sure you are eager to reacquaint yourself with your dear old aunt. I shall leave you to it.”
He was so surprised that he could only watch in silence as she walked swiftly out of the room. It was only when the sound of her footsteps had died away that he realised he ought to hurry after her and tell her that those words he had uttered in the past were in no way a reflection of how he now felt.
But before he could do so, there was a blood-curdling cry from behind him. He spun around just in time to catch his aunt as she swooned.
“My goodness,” she gasped. “Your wife’s cruel words. I feel so… so very weak.”
He eased his aunt gently to the floor, puzzled by this sudden change in her. Perhaps it was down to her age, because he had never known her to faint. Nor had he known her to be easily shocked by cruel remarks, having been so adept at uttering them herself.
Still, he tended to her and called for Mrs. Reynolds to bring the smelling salts. As impertinent as she had been, she was his aunt. Not to mention the fact that Elizabeth hardly needed him to fight on her behalf—he smiled at the memory of his wife’s retort. Her quick-wittedness never failed to surprise and delight him.
Chapter Fourteen
Elizabeth had taken to avoiding the breakfast parlour and the dining table altogether. What was the sense in locking horns with Lady Catherine? Darcy would always side with his aunt and the logical part of her mind told her that was only natural. She had entered this marriage with her eyes open, so she could not expect him to stand up for her in the way a man might if he truly loved his wife.
She did not want that, she reminded herself.
She had her freedom. She must take full advantage of it.
Three days had passed since Lady Catherine arrived and she had managed to go that whole time without seeing the abominable woman, apart from their encounter on the first day. Elizabeth had no idea how long Darcy’s aunt would stay or why she was there. But she knew one thing—she would avoid her for as long as was needed. Oh, she could just as easily have steeled herself to bite back with cruel remarks, but where was the peace in that? Besides, it would only hurt Darcy and not his aunt—Lady Catherine did not seem the type to be easily offended by words.
I have caused her the most upset, Elizabeth thought with a smile as she moved noiselessly down the stairs, simply by marrying her nephew.
She was not a malicious person by nature, but still this gave her a small amount of pleasure. But that was it—she would not engage in any further pettiness.
In the months since their marriage, she had come to look forward to the walks she and Darcy would often take in the park in the afternoons together. She had stopped trying to deceive herself as to her feelings for him. She loved him—it was as simple as that.
She had found a certain amount of peace despite knowing her feelings were not requited by him. The estate was so vast and beautiful that she was kept busy exploring its boundaries. She could not have asked for a more generous husband nor a sweeter sister-in-law. She really was happy. His aunt would not change that, no matter how hard she tried to do so.
She was just walking to the door when she heard her name called. She spun around and found Mackenzie, the butler, standing behind her.
“This came for you this morning, Ma’am.”
She took it from him and felt a jolt of nervousness when she realised the writing was Jane’s. “Did this come by post?” She already knew the answer but she begged him to tell her that yes, it was simply a regular letter.
“No,” he said, seeming to sense the extent to which she was hanging on his words. “A rider came with it not five minutes ago. I was on my way to find your maid.”
“Thank you,” she muttered, staring at the letter that sat in her now-shaking hand.
What could have happened to cause Jane to send a rider with the note? It could only be bad news. Her first instinct was to find Darcy, for she did not want to be alone when she opened it, but she quickly reconsidered. Wherever Darcy had been in recent days, his aunt had not been far behind. And she could not face Lady Catherine now.
Thankfully it was still early, so the house was quiet and still. She hurried out the door and made her way towards the trees to the little clearing where she liked to come and read. Darcy had sent some of the servants out to place a wrought iron bench there for her comfort, for which she would always be grateful.
But she could not think of Darcy now, not when the letter from Jane demanded all her attention.
With shaking fingers, she broke the seal and unfolded the paper, praying that it was not as bad as she thought.
She could barely bring herself to read the news, so terrified was she. Finally, she forced her eyes open and made herself focus on every word.
She gasped as the realisation dawned on her.
This was not bad news at all.
On the contrary!
Jane was with child and had sent a rider to tell her the news lest she find out from someone else! It was not bad news at all, simply Jane wanting to be the first to tell her.
She clutched the letter to her chest and sighed happily. What wonderful news! Jane had hinted at how lovely it would be if Elizabeth could visit before the child came and this played on her mind now. She had known Jane for as long as she could remember and it struck her that she was not there to help her elder sister at this most crucial of times. True, Mrs. Bennet was nearby and Jane said Caroline Bingley was thrilled by the news and had offered to help. But that was not the same as having her favourite sister nearby to share her hopes and fears.
The more Lizzy thought about it, the more it made sense to her. With Lady Catherine present, she could not fully enjoy Pemberley—she did not want to cause a scene, but neither could she hold her tongue when she was insulted, which Lady Catherine was adept at.
She stood and hurried back to the house.
She was not surprised to find Lady Catherine in Darcy’s study with him—his aunt had been trailing him since she arrived.
Impatience welled up inside her. The sooner she left, the sooner she would be with Jane. “May I speak to you alone, husband?”
Lady Catherine clicked her tongue. “Impertinent girl. Is that any way to speak to one’s elders and betters?”
“Surely it does not surprise you that I might want a private word with my husband. Now, will you leave us?”
Lady Catherine made no move to go, but Darcy jumped to his feet before Elizabeth was forced to ask again. “Let us go to your quarters,” he said hastily.
Lizzy smiled. That was the one place in the vast house that Lady Catherine would not enter. “Yes, of course.”
* * *
It felt strange to have him in her private quarters, no matter that he was her husband. She stopped herself from reflecting on that thought, for no good could come of it.
“Well?” he asked softly. “What is the matter. I have not seen much of you in recent times.”
“I thought it best to avoid your aunt where possible. She does not approve of me and I fear if I spend time in her presence I shall say something I regret.”
“You must not regret your words if they come from your heart.”
She frowned. Was this the same Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire? There was something different about him. She brushed that thought aside without too much reflection—she had a question to put to him.
“I received a letter from my sister Jane.”
“Ah, yes. Mackenzie mentioned a rider had come with a note. I was about to find you to make sure it was nothing serious when my aunt joined me in my study.”
She smiled up at him. “It was not bad news. On the contrary—Jane is with
child!”
His face fell. It seemed a strange reaction, but she did not focus too much attention on it when she was eager to get on with her plans. “And she has asked me to join her for a time. I imagine my mother is a little overbearing and we have always been close. It would not be for very long—a few weeks, perhaps—and it would give you time alone with your aunt. My company seems to annoy her so, and I cannot say I relish her presence.”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “As I said, I have missed your… Of course you ought to go if you wish to. That is the agreement we made, is it not? I would not wish for you to feel you could not leave Pemberley.”
“Oh no, I do not feel that way. I simply wished to ask you—it did not seem right to simply go without telling you.”
He turned away. “There was no need, truly. But I thank you for letting me know. Whatever you need for your journey, simply tell Mrs. Reynolds and it shall be provided. Naturally you will want a maid and footman to accompany you.”
He carried on in this manner for a few minutes more before promptly leaving the room. She felt a strange sort of longing when he did—it was only then she realised how desperately she had wanted him to insist on coming with her.
Chapter Fifteen
Darcy felt his wife’s absence keenly. His patience for his aunt had already been wearing thin, but now it was lower than ever. He locked himself away in his study on the pretext of looking over some important papers, but he found he could not concentrate. Instead, he paced to the window and automatically scanned the ground below to catch a glimpse of her.
“Blast it,” he muttered, remembering too late that she was gone and would not be back for weeks.
“Talking to yourself, Fitzwilliam? That is hardly a good sign.”
He turned and sighed at the sight of his aunt in the doorway. “I thought I instructed Mrs. Reynolds to tell you I was occupied today and was to be left in peace.”
First Comes Marriage: A Darcy & Elizabeth Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 6