“And I shall seek none.” I looked away from her gaze, intending to show no feeling. A great wave of sickness rose within me, and I was dizzy with the intelligence Lady Catherine had imparted. I was shocked to learn that my marriage had taken place while Mr Darcy was promised to another, but I was blinded by her second revelation. Although she was no friend of mine, she was a woman sharing a womanly confidence, and I had no reason to think her a liar. Why ever would she say such a thing about her own nephew if it were not true?
I thought of the fluttering Mrs Woodham, and of Mrs Lovelace, and the house in Queen Anne’s Gate, and the numerous ways and times Fitzwilliam had belittled my origins and family. I thought also of Mama’s words to me on the eve of my marriage; she had said my relations with my husband would be short lived and, after the first few weeks of marriage, not oft repeated. Certainly, I knew my parents kept to their own rooms. Even Mary had said Mr Collins only imposed himself upon her once a week. I was suddenly crushed by the realisation that my husband had greater demands, so many, in fact, that he was accustomed to keeping a woman to fulfil them. The betrayal of it overwhelmed me.
“Anne, we must tell Mrs Collins when she visits tomorrow of the letter you have received from Mrs Johnson. She is such a kindly lady to remember the parsonage, and when she visits next month, Mrs Collins shall surely be happy to receive her for tea. I am always pleased to see Mrs Johnson, and she, I know, is wondrous grateful for my condescension, for so she always says.”
Lady Catherine’s words streamed from her mouth like the babble of a foreign tongue. Anne looked at her satin-covered feet upon the Chinese carpet, and I knew I must get away before the men joined us. I found, from somewhere, the confidence to make a dignified exit.
“I am quite sure my sister will enjoy that Lady Catherine; she is most attentive to these things. Now, if you will excuse me, I find myself very fatigued, and I believe we must start away early tomorrow morning. I think I will retire. I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you both at breakfast tomorrow?”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she beheld my face.
“Yes, Mrs Darcy, certainly. I do not believe in lying abed and would never allow my nephew to leave without a proper farewell.”
“In that case, I shall bid you both good night.”
Hannah was surprised when I appeared in my chamber, but my manner was brisk, and she ventured no conversation. I did not bathe and was soon dressed in my nightgown, ready to retire.
“Hannah, plait my hair, please.”
“Are you certain, madam?”
“Yes.” I said no more but stared at my reflection in the mirror as she worked, my face pale in the candlelight. It was not long before Fitzwilliam joined me, but it was long enough for me to arrange myself as if asleep. I curled up, my face turned away, and I made my breathing deep and heavy. I heard bare feet padding around the room as he arrived, and he paused before creeping into bed. The mattress sprang me slightly upwards, and I felt his presence beside me. He whispered my name, but I spoke not. He seemed to hold his breath as he took my plait lightly in his hand and caressed it with his fingers. I knew not his thoughts and could make no sense of him. He was soon asleep whilst I was awake and alone in the darkness.
***
I found him sitting on my side of the bed when I awoke. He was fully dressed and looked agitated. “Are you well, Elizabeth? Why did you retire so early? Are you unwell?”
“No, I am fine. I felt rather poorly last night, but I am well now. Is it not time that we were risen? I thought we had to be away early?”
“Yes, well, Fitzwilliam wants to be away early as he has business with his regiment in town this afternoon. But…Elizabeth, are you sure there is nothing wrong?”
“No, there is nothing wrong. All is well,” I said as I rose and swept off to my bath, not looking back at him.
The morning passed in attending to practical matters, and I was glad of it. Hannah was anxious for my spirits but too busy packing up my garments and supervising their loading onto our carriage to take up my time. Lady Catherine was at her most friendly at our departure, and even Anne managed a smile as we left her in the shadowy doorway. Despite my poor spirits, I was cheered to know we were departing this place and I would no longer be confined within the home of a woman who disliked me so. That was something to be glad of, and I did my best to focus on it. Knowing we were for town, I had written to my aunt Gardiner and arranged to visit her as soon as may be. My heart sang to think of her and my dear uncle, and I could not see them soon enough.
In the carriage, Mr Darcy and the colonel sat beside one another and I opposite as the Kent countryside rattled by in a riot of green and brown. They spoke of acquaintances in town and Georgiana’s newfound confidence. I said little and gazed out of the window until I was forced to speak.
“Well, Lizzy!” boomed Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I must congratulate you on your survival. An Easter at Rosings would be enough to put anyone off the Fitzwilliams, but you have coped admirably. What a wonder it has been to have you with us, to have song at Rosings! I never thought I would hear it, eh, Darcy?”
“Yes, my wife sings very well.”
“Indeed you do, Lizzy, but more than that. It was splendid to have some laughter for a change and to have some company beyond Lady Catherine and Anne and this fellow here!” Mr Darcy said nothing at this jibe, and I knew he was annoyed at the colonel’s familiarity. I was in no mood to placate him.
“Thank you, Richard. But surely you have never struggled for laughs at Rosings Park, for never was a place so rich in comedy. No, I think if you have not laughed in previous years, then you have only yourselves to blame!” I eyed my husband who did not respond. “And if you have wanted for music, then you could have brought Georgiana with you, for she plays and sings far better than I, and she deserves an audience beyond Mrs Annesley, Fitzwilliam, and me. What say you? Should she join us next year so I can be retired from my position as entertainer?”
“Well, you will have to ask your husband, Lizzy. He makes all of the decisions about Georgiana.”
Fitzwilliam looked up and almost barked his reply. “Georgiana is terrified of Lady Catherine, Elizabeth. Not all young ladies have your spirit and certainly not Georgiana. If you think you can embolden her to spend two weeks at Rosings, then you have a year to do it, and you must run the risk of her being unhappy.”
I smarted at being so censured in front of the colonel, and after the fortnight I had endured with my husband’s aunt, I considered it most unjust. “Well, I do not see that Georgiana has anything to fear in Lady Catherine. After all, your aunt likes to have the distinctions of rank preserved and most admires the high-born and the accomplished, does she not? Georgiana surely cannot offend her in any way. She is a Fitzwilliam.”
“It is Lady Catherine’s manner of expressing herself which worries Georgiana, Elizabeth, as you well know. I have protected my sister all her life from situations that may distress her, and I shall not stop now.”
“How lucky she is, Mr Darcy,” said I, and we spoke no more on the matter.
Chapter Thirteen
The praises heaped upon Mr Darcy’s townhouse were not exaggerated. Its towering stucco façade stood behind black railings; within, it held wide hallways and large rooms full of comfortable furnishings and soft colours. There were oil portraits of Darcys past and present, and landscapes aplenty. A splendid pianoforte stood in the drawing room, and the fireplaces were tiled with Italian patterns in all colours. Unlike my aunt and uncle Gardiner’s home in Cheapside, Darcy House stood on four floors and somehow felt tall and slim even from the inside. A great oak staircase, carpeted in reds, blues and greens, snaked up the spine of the house. Although I had glimpsed such a place from without, I had never before stepped inside, and in truth, I was impressed. Howsoever that was true, I was certainly not about to tell Mr Darcy.
&nb
sp; At breakfast, I asked, “Fitzwilliam, may I have the carriage today, please? I would like to visit my aunt and uncle Gardiner.”
“Today? But it is your first day in town, Elizabeth, and we were travelling almost all day yesterday. I am worried you have not been well. Are you sure it would not be best to rest today and visit them tomorrow?”
“No, I would very much like to see them today. I have not seen them these many months.”
“Very good. But I need the carriage today as well, so I propose I escort you to your uncle’s house and fetch you back this afternoon. Would about three be suitable?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you.”
Mr Darcy and I reached Gracechurch Street in little over half an hour. Joy rose within me as my uncle’s red front door came into view, and for very little, I would have danced up the stone steps towards it.
“Will you not come in, Fitzwilliam? You have never met my aunt and uncle Gardiner.”
“I am sorry, Elizabeth. I am needed elsewhere on a pressing matter of business. I will be back later.” He smiled a weak smile, and I looked away. Fury rose like a fire within me when I thought of his hypocrisy: to keep a woman as he did, to lie to his wife, and still to treat my poor family with disdain.
“Very well.” I hardly felt his hand upon mine as he assisted me out of the carriage. My mind was in chaos, and I could find no way forward but to focus on a stream of seemingly inconsequential things. My eyes moved from my slippered feet treading on the iron steps of the carriage to the tapered railings around my uncle’s front door. I listened to the calls of an urchin selling wares in the street behind me. I could not look at my husband. But as I lifted my hand to the great brass door-knocker, I heard him speak to James: “Yes, Queen Anne’s Gate.” He saw that the door of my uncle’s home had been opened to me and nodded. With no further show of interest, and seemingly eager to get away, he closed the door of the carriage and was gone.
I was undone, and I knew it. Clouds of horrors roared up in my mind. I thought of the shame that he brought on me, of how I loved him, and how little I could reach him. By the time my uncle’s butler announced me, I had decided.
“Aunt, I am so sorry; I know I am only just arrived, but I must reach my husband on a matter that cannot be delayed. I have not an instant to lose. But Mr Darcy has the carriage, so may I borrow yours? I shall have it back to you very shortly—within a couple of hours at the most.”
Aunt Gardiner’s concern was writ upon her face, but she thought I was a sensible girl and so, I believe, assumed I had a sensible reason for my escapade. “Why yes, of course. But, Lizzy, is there really cause to leave directly? Surely, we can send a message to Mr Darcy. Must you go yourself? I shall travel with you.”
“No, no, Aunt. There is no need for that, and I would not dream of imposing. No, there is nothing to worry about, but it is an urgent matter. I hope you will forgive me for postponing our tea.”
With little further ado, I was in my uncle’s carriage, whistling through the narrow streets. What I should do when I got there, I hardly knew, but I was full of righteous indignation, and though I could not say it to him, I was full of love—spurned, unreciprocated, unplanned, tormented love. Streets of tall houses seemed to unfold in all directions; the city noise of bartering men and clattering wheels hung in the air. How could it be so loud? Would I ever hear silence again? I sat forward in the seat of the carriage as if I were atop a horse, and I knew that, if I paused or stopped, I might lose my courage. When we arrived in Queen Anne’s Gate, I realised I knew not which house I was looking for and was suddenly near collapse with frustration. Our carriage sitting outside a big black door, however, gave Mr Darcy away; almost within one breath, I knocked on it, and I was admitted.
My slippers tapped along a black and white tiled floor as a wigged footman led me forwards. The hush of the interior was a shock after the hum of the street and the banging chaos of my mind. Strange clocks ticked, doors creaked, and within a moment, the footman before me stood aside, announcing, almost to my own surprise, “Mrs Darcy.” The room of my reception was large, airy, and hung with colossal oils. Beneath my feet, there was a carpet so thick as to feel like an animal’s hide. I held my breath and beheld my husband leaning against a marble fireplace. At his feet, a small spaniel was curled up on the hearthrug, sleeping. Beside him sat a small, grey-haired lady, her bony fingers hovering over a piece of embroidery, a nervous smile playing across her lined face. First, there was silence, and I thought it may never end. The lady before me was at least my mother’s age and the scene hardly redolent of misbehaviour. Confused as I was, I was suddenly crushed by the enormity of my error and the impossibility of making it right. What madness had fetched me to such a position as this?
“Mrs Darcy,” she said, faintly. “Welcome.”
My husband turned away from me towards the wall, raking his fingers through his hair. Knowing I had never been introduced, he seemed to find his composure from somewhere and said, almost in a shout. “Elizabeth, this is Mrs Lovelace, who is a friend of our family. Mrs Lovelace, this is my wife, Mrs Darcy.”
“Well, welcome, Mrs Darcy. I was not expecting you, but I am pleased to know you. Are you a happy taker of tea? Please, come closer in order that I can hear you. Please do sit down.”
“Thank you, Mrs Lovelace,” said I, thoroughly ashamed of myself. I desperately searched for ways to continue the conversation with this elderly woman whom I did not know when I barged uninvited into her home.
“Erm, thank you for your generosity, Esther, but I think Mrs Darcy may be tired, and I suspect we ought to depart,” said Fitzwilliam shortly and without looking at me.
“Well, yes of course…then you must go. But I hope to have this pleasure repeated on another occasion. Will you promise me that?”
He blinked as he moved towards me. “Yes, of course. We shall see you again.” When Mrs Lovelace’s door was closed upon us and we stood outside on the flagstone step, he spoke.
“How did you get here, Elizabeth?”
“I borrowed my uncle’s carriage. It is that one on—”
Before I could finish, he approached the driver and spoke words I could not hear. Embarrassment swelled up in me to think of the carriage returning to my aunt and uncle so soon without a passenger or any explanation. Our ride home to Darcy House passed in silence. When he handed me out of the carriage, he did not release my hand but, dismissing all attention from our servants, guided me gently but firmly up the stairs to my bedchamber. Hannah was there when we arrived, but he gave her a look that she could not mistake, and she left without a word.
“Elizabeth, what are you about? What on earth were you doing there?”
“What were you doing there, sir? Who is she?”
“Who is she? Who do you think she is, Elizabeth?”
“I…I know she is somebody you wish to keep from me… It is for you to tell me the truth, sir, not for me to guess.”
“But you must have some idea in your mind of who she is, or you would never have taken such a step. I never would have imagined it of you to behave in such a way. That you would storm into the home of an unknown person, to whom you had no introduction, on a whim that I might be there. What can have been in your mind?”
“I cannot say.”
“You can say, Elizabeth, and you will. Tell me now what was in your mind!”
“Very well, if you force me to speak, then for once you will hear my honest thoughts! I am not ashamed of what I thought. I had good reason to think it, and it is you who should be explaining yourself, not I! I believed her your mistress, Fitzwilliam. I believed you kept a woman and that Mrs Lovelace was she. I can see I was wrong, but you have still deceived me. You have made me so insecure that I would believe such things of you!”
“I have done no such thing, and you must have taken leave of your senses, Elizabeth. How can you have c
ome to this conclusion? I am responsible for you. I am your husband and protector, and I decide…well, I decide whether certain matters are best kept from you. I assume that, before we were married, you did not challenge your father in this way!”
“What ‘certain matters’? What harm can Mrs Lovelace possibly do me? She is an old lady!”
“Yes, she is an old lady, and she can and would do you no harm whatsoever. But it is the fact of her that…Well, now that you have forced yourself into this, you should know, or Lord knows what you will speculate.” He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair, turning his angry face away from me and dropping his head slightly.
“Mrs Lovelace is the widow of a neighbour in Derbyshire. She was married and widowed young and left in fairly reduced circumstances. She lost her home in Derbyshire. It was entailed away to her late husband’s brother, and he was not well-disposed towards her. She was a respectable woman and known to our family. That was many years ago. For the last twenty years of his life, Esther Lovelace was my father’s mistress. He loved her greatly, I believe, and although she does not express her feelings to me explicitly, I rather think that she loved him, too. They have three daughters who are my natural sisters; one has recently married, and you have met her: Mrs Woodham. The house in Queen Anne’s Gate was purchased by my father for them to live in when my youngest Lovelace sister, Frances, was a baby. Before that, they lived in another house in town. I believe my father considered the merits of establishing them in Derbyshire but thought they should not be too close to his legitimate family. The rumour was put about that Esther’s husband had died on campaign when Frances was a babe, and she had inherited her fortune from a distant relation. I do not believe many people were fooled, and it is very difficult for them to find their way in society. I try to help them as much as possible. Obviously, I provide Esther with an income, and I pay for the house. I provided my eldest sister, Alice, with a dowry when she married Woodham.”
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