“You did,” she said, closing the door behind her.
“But you did not pay her any heed.” He sighed and returned to the chair behind his desk. He pulled the papers to him and found them just as tedious as he had found them earlier. Despite this, he pretended to be deep in concentration in the vain hope that his aunt might take the hint.
She did not.
She moved noisily around the room. “I still cannot believe you allowed your wife to take off in your carriage.”
“I have others,” he said wearily, abandoning the pretence of looking at the documents since it seemed to have had no effect on her. “She is my wife—she was welcome to take it.”
“But how could she leave you? You are her husband! I would never have left my Lewis.”
He felt a sharp pang of loss, which was preposterous really—how could he mourn something he had never had?
“She is free to come and go as she pleases—what is the sense of cooping her up here when she wants to be with her sister. They are very close.”
“Close? A woman’s duty is to her husband, not to her sister!”
“Indeed,” he said, hoping that she might tire herself out if he simply stopped responding.
“Fitzwilliam, are you listening to me? This is surely grounds for divorce!”
He jerked his head up and stared at his aunt, aghast. “Divorce? Why would I want to seek a divorce?”
“Because you made a mistake! Surely you can see that. I know it is difficult and costly to seek a divorce but do not let that put you off. It can be done—especially for a man of your wealth and influence.”
“How can you disrespect my wife in this manner? And in her own home, no less?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “It is not her home it is yours. And before that it was my sister’s.”
He coloured at the reference to his mother. How would she have felt about the arrangement he had reached with Elizabeth? “Please do not mention my mother.”
“How can I do anything but?” she wailed. “She was my sister. She would certainly not approve of this.”
He thought of his dear sweet mother, who was nothing like her sister. Would she disapprove? He knew his opinion was tempered by his love for Elizabeth, but now that he thought about it, he could only picture the two women getting along as well as Elizabeth did with his sister.
“Georgiana adores her. How do you know my mother would have felt any different?”
“She would have wanted you to marry Anne. That was her wish. She told me as much many times.”
He sighed. This again. He ought to have known it would not be long before his cousin’s name was mentioned. “I never made any promises to your daughter, nor did I make any promises to you. Anne and I are not well-matched.”
“How can you even say that? You do not know. You have spent no time with her.”
But he had. He had spent enough time with Anne to know that he did not wish to marry her. There was only one woman he had ever loved enough to wish to marry—and he was already wed to her. He ought to have been delighted with this outcome, but it was not so simple. Why, he wondered for the umpteenth time, had he not realised the depth of his feelings before he proposed? If only he had known to tell her he loved her at that time, then there would have been none of this nonsense about an arrangement that suited them both and only gave the appearance of being a marriage.
All he wanted to do was hurry to the stables and jump on one of his stallions. She had left hours ago, but he could catch her—he knew he could.
But what then?
No, she would not appreciate the incursion. He knew how much she loved her sister.
He looked down at the papers in front of them even though they might as well have been written in Arabic for all the sense he could make of them. He was heartsick—and he had another three weeks left of feeling this way. And the worst thing? It was a problem of his own creation.
His aunt, meanwhile, seemed to take his silence as consideration. She clapped her hands together. “So you will consider it? Just say the word and I shall send for Anne.”
His pulse rang in his ears. As much as he loved her, he had heard quite enough for one day. “Mention the word divorce in this house once more, Lady Catherine, and I shall send one of my servants to prepare your carriage. Now I beg you, please leave me to complete my review of these papers.”
Chapter Sixteen
Jane was waiting outside when the carriage pulled up outside Netherfield House. She had been as excited to see her younger sister as Elizabeth was to see her. It had only been a few months, but they were used to seeing each other every moment of every day.
“Oh, Lizzy!” She cried as her eyes welled up with tears of joy. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Elizabeth held her sister tight. Jane looked radiant and her sister had never seen her look this beautiful before. Pregnancy and marriage had brought out the best in her!
“You don’t know just how much I’ve missed you too, my dear Jane. So often I’ve longed to be in your presence, to just sit and talk to you like we used to.”
“My dear, dear, Lizzy. You are here now and there is so much to tell.” Jane said as she put her arm around her sister and ushered her up the steps to the front door. “Caroline has gone to London but Charles will be here shortly. He is just as excited as I am about your visit.” For the first time, she seemed to realise that Lizzy had come alone. “Where is Darcy?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “He could not find the time away.”
“Oh, what a pity! I had so looked forward to seeing you together. He adores you so, you know.”
Lizzy gritted her teeth. She had tried to prepare herself for such remarks from the rest of her family, but she had not expected to hear such things from Jane, who knew the truth. “You look so happy, Jane,” she said in an attempt to change the subject.
“I could not imagine a circumstance in which I might be happier,” Jane said, smiling. “Charles has been wonderful. He is almost as excited about the baby as I am and has ordered the nursery to be painted and decorated to such a high standard that I often wonder if he realises the baby will not be aware of its surroundings!”
“Ah, that is truly a delight to hear. Some men seem barely interested in children.”
Jane linked her arm through her sister’s. “And what of your Mr. Darcy?”
Lizzy baulked. This time, she could not brush off the question. “Jane, perhaps your wonderful news has caused you to be forgetful, but I must remind you of what I told you at the time of my engagement. It is more of an arrangement than a marriage.”
Jane stared at her.
“So of course we have not discussed children because we are not…” she stared at the ground and felt her cheeks heat up. “We do not live together as man and wife in the traditional sense.”
“Oh, Lizzy! I did not realise!”
“But how could you forget? You know this.”
“Yes, of course I did,” Jane whispered. “But I thought… Well it seemed you adored each other but each of you was too proud to admit your true feelings and… Oh, I am sorry, Lizzy.”
“There is no reason for you to be sorry,” she said gently, squeezing her sister’s arm. “Now, come. Let me see this nursery that your husband has so lovingly commissioned.”
* * *
Elizabeth found it rather curious—as the days went by at Netherfield, it became clearer and clearer that her heart remained at Pemberley. Absence from Darcy only served to remind her how much she adored him and she missed him more with every passing day.
Even so, seeing the tenderness between her sister and Bingley made the emptiness inside her grow to almost intolerable heights. She would have all the solitude and peace in the world, but she could never hope to have this true sense of camaraderie with another soul.
Rather than feel sorry for herself, she threw herself into caring for Jane and spending time with her family. To her relief, the days passed quickly and she was so busy t
hat she fell asleep right away each night. In this regard, it was better than being at Pemberley, where she often sat by the window late into the night in a state of sleeplessness.
Finally, the day came when she was due to depart. As she ate breakfast with the Bingleys, it struck her that her sister was quieter than usual. At first, Lizzy put this down to Jane being upset at the prospect of her departure, but then she happened to catch a strange look that passed between the Bingleys. Shortly after, Charles stood and left the room.
Lizzy stared down at her porridge and frowned. Should she mention it? Perhaps it was a private matter between her sister and her husband that she had no business enquiring about.
Even so, she felt protective of Jane and she got the very real sense that something was bothering her.
“Jane, dear,” she said, after taking a deep breath. “It struck me that you sent Charles away just now and you have not been yourself this morning. Please tell me if something is bothering you.”
Jane’s eyes twinkled. “Of course I could not have expected to keep it from you, Lizzy. You were always so sharp. In a way, that’s what makes your current conduct so utterly surprising.”
Lizzy was taken off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know well what I mean.”
“No, I do not.” She put down her spoon. “What is it?”
“There is nothing the matter with me, Lizzy!”
“What then?”
“It is you!” Jane said, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “I have heard you deny it over and over these past few weeks, yet in the same breath you speak of Pemberley with such affection.”
“Yes of course I do,” she protested. “Because it is truly extraordinary. It is a wonderful place, Jane, you must come and see it.”
“Do not change the subject. I hadn’t finished.” Jane leaned closer. “Pemberley is not the only subject on which I have heard you rhapsodise.”
Lizzy’s heart hammered uncomfortably in her chest. “Is it not?”
“No, it’s not and you must surely know it. You deny your feelings for Darcy, but to hear you talk about him one can only believe you love him with all your heart. Why, even your face changes when you speak of him. Lizzy, I am convinced now and I have been for days. Surely you must realise how deeply you feel for him?”
She could not keep up the presence any longer. She had vowed never to speak the truth, but she could deny it no longer. A fat tear fell onto her plate and she quickly rubbed her eyes lest more followed. “It is true,” she whispered. “I love him with all my heart, Jane. But it does not matter. You know the nature of our marriage and I do not blame him.”
“But Lizzy…”
“Please, Jane. I know your sweet heart better than you think. Please do not try to convince me that he feels the same way, for I know he does not.”
“But, Lizzy, it is obvious that he does. I saw how he looked at you on your wedding day. He is thoroughly besotted, I am sure of it.”
“Please, Jane,” she said hoarsely. “Please do not say such things. My heart cannot handle it any longer.”
Chapter Seventeen
“My dear, brother, you seem a little lost without your wife.”
Darcy looked up as his sister entered the room. He smiled. She was almost unrecognisable from the shy young lady he had spent many long hours fretting about. Was it all Elizabeth’s doing? He could think of no other reason for the change in her.
“I miss her,” he said, sitting down at the dusty little table beside the one he was seated at.
“I miss her too,” he agreed, before he could stop himself. What was the harm in admitting it to Georgiana, he wondered. Even if he hadn’t said it, she would have no doubt seen it in his eyes.
“Why are you in here anyway? I would never have found you if Mrs. Reynolds had not told me where you were.”
He debated whether to tell her the truth. He tried not to mislead her, but she was still only sixteen and he often had to remind himself of that fact. He was too disconsolate to think of a lie—Elizabeth had been gone for three weeks and it might as well have been three months.
“It is the one place where our aunt will not look for me,” he said carefully.
Georgiana scowled—it was rare to see such a look cross her face. “Ah, I understand. I have grown tired of having her here. Do you know, she tried to convince me that I ought to tell you Lizzy was being unkind to me.”
“What?”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I did not know whether I ought to tell you. Rest assured that I would never say a bad word to you—or anyone—about Lizzy.”
“That is not the point. She should not have…” He stopped. The old schoolroom was on the second floor at the front of the house, directly over the front doors. Just as he had been about to criticise his aunt’s words, he had heard the unmistakable crunch of carriage wheels on gravel.
“Do you think it’s her?”
He shook his head and hurried to the window, remembering too late that it was impossible to see below from that tiny window that was painted shut.
Not that it mattered. He hurried to the door, not caring how foolish he might look.
“There is only one way for us to find out!”
He and Georgiana hurried down the stairs and raced across the tiled floor. As they did so, Lady Catherine emerged from the drawing room and emitted a frightful groan. “There you are. Your damnable housekeeper would not tell me where you were. Imagine it! Why on earth are you making so much noise?”
He didn’t answer. How could he? He had no idea yet if it was Elizabeth or a friend of his who had come to call.
He threw open the door before the butler could reach it. His heart flipped when he recognised the carriage outside.
“Lizzy!” Georgiana screamed in delight as the door opened and Elizabeth’s lovely head appeared.
Darcy’s heart somersaulted. She was back; she was actually back! He had been expecting her to write and tell him she was extending her stay. Lady Catherine joined him at the door.
“Goodness me,” she muttered. “Is this the reason for all your excitement?”
“What have I told you before, aunt?” he said through gritted teeth. “Now, greet my wife or retire to your room.”
But even his aunt’s barbed comments could not dampen his enthusiasm one bit. He hurried down the stairs in his footsteps and only stopped himself in time from sweeping his wife up in his arms.
“You look wonderful,” Georgiana gushed. “Even after days of travelling!”
Darcy smiled. It was true. She did. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered. “My sister is right. You look very much refreshed.”
Elizabeth smiled and he thought his heart might burst. He wanted desperately to declare his feelings for her, but it was hardly the right time. The words he needed to say were best said in private, away from the servants who might infer a thing or two about their situation up until now.
He consoled himself with making her as comfortable as he could. “Do come in,” he said, helping her up the steps to the house. “You must be exhausted despite your fresh countenance. Come and sit in the drawing room and I shall order refreshments.”
* * *
Lady Catherine was absent for the rest of the afternoon. Darcy thought she might avoid them altogether, but she appeared at the dining table when dinner was called. He winced. Georgiana was not present—he suspected his sister had tactfully allowed him time alone with his wife. When he realised this he thought he might finally be able to declare his feelings for her.
Now, that could not happen. Certainly not in the presence of Lady Catherine’s sharp hearing.
Darcy was not the only one who was disappointed—he could see in Elizabeth’s eyes that she would have preferred not to dine with his aunt. He wanted to thank her for keeping her feelings silent, for he knew she did so out of respect for him.
It only made him love her even more!
Lady Catherine was silent for most
of the meal and Darcy began to hope for the best.
That hope was dashed as soon as pudding was served.
“I thought you might stay longer in Hertfordshire, Miss Bennet.”
Darcy was surprised by his own irritation. His fork clattered to the table and he turned to look at his aunt. “My dear aunt, as you well know, Elizabeth is my wife now. Or shall we all begin to address you as Miss Fitzwilliam?”
Lady Catherine turned white. “That is a grave insult on my husband’s memory.”
Darcy swallowed back the great shame he felt for uttering such a thing. “Yes, but it is quite the same thing as you referring to my wife as Miss Bennet. I will have no more of it.”
“It is not the same thing at all. I came from just as good a lineage as my Lewis. Better, in fact.”
“That was entirely your choice, not that your lineage would have had any impact on the legality of the marriage.”
Lady Catherine’s expression softened. “Oh, nephew, can you not see? I am trying to do what is best for you. Do you think I want to earn your scorn and resentment? I certainly do not! I am doing my duty to your mother. I will not rest until you end your marriage to this girl.”
Darcy was not fully aware of standing up, but that is what he did. He stared at his aunt, unable to believe what he had heard. Was there no end to her insults? “Aunt, I am a grown man. It is my choice who I marry, and I chose Elizabeth over the daughters of Earls and Barons. You must realise that your words shall have no bearing on my marriage. It is done—it shall not be undone.”
“But Fitzwilliam, I—“
“No!” he cried, surprised at the ferocity in his own tone. “I will hear no more of it! If you cannot be polite to my wife then I implore you to leave this house at once!”
He watched with a heavy heart as his aunt stood and moved to the door. He expected her to shoot him one final parting remark, but she said nothing.
Elizabeth was staring at him in a strange way he could not decipher.
First Comes Marriage: A Darcy & Elizabeth Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 7