He laughed in sudden surprise. “Yes, I do! It is not even in that drawer but in the cabinet.”
She grinned pertly. “My diversion worked then! How happy I am to be of assistance to my husband.”
Luncheons were taken with Georgiana. Often it was the first time either of the older Darcys had spoken with her that day. Lizzy fretted somewhat at what she feared seemed like abandonment on their part. Darcy assured her that, other than breakfast, he and his sister had rarely seen each other in the morning hours anyway. He had explained to Georgiana that breakfast was an important time for him and his new wife. Nonetheless, Lizzy worried and therefore endeavored to pass as many afternoons as possible with her new sister.
In a matter of days, she realized that she genuinely enjoyed her time with Georgiana. Lizzy marveled at this. It was not that she had in even the slightest way disliked Georgiana; it was simply that she had imagined the gap in their ages would prevent them from becoming true friends. Lizzy was familiar with the foolishness and stupidity of her younger sisters and had erringly assumed Georgiana similar.
Georgiana was timid and shy, a typical Darcy trait taken to extremes by her, yet also intelligent, accomplished, and witty. She was very like her brother actually. Darcy hid his shyness behind a stern and forbidding demeanor, whereas Georgiana was blatantly blushing and anxious; however, they both harbored a dry humor, a keen intellect, and astonishing gentleness and empathy. Lizzy, as she had with her spouse, naturally used her gregarious character to break through Georgiana’s reserve. Darcy was elated at the change to his sister through Lizzy’s friendship.
Lizzy, on the other hand, flourished in her own way under Georgiana’s gentle personality. Both Darcys were inherently peaceful creatures, steady and unflappable. This serenity soothed Lizzy. At the same time, she found herself awestruck by the talent her sister wielded. She could play the pianoforte and harp brilliantly, painted, was extremely creative with paints, spoke three languages fluently, and had a firm grasp of history and literature. Lizzy spent hours on the piano with her, honing her own paltry skills under Georgiana’s patient instruction, and happily sat in quiet conversation while they sewed or played cards. Georgiana also loved the outdoors and walking.
Thus, the afternoons periodically found Lizzy and Darcy separated as he attended to business, projects about the estate, visited a nearby gentleman, went on a ride, or, more often, read alone in the library while Lizzy also visited her friends, spent time with Georgiana, took a walk, or volunteered at the orphanage. By mutual necessity their partings were as brief as possible. Despite individual pursuits, Lizzy and Darcy managed to secure a fair amount of time alone together.
By mid-April the snows had melted away from the combined effect of the inexhaustive rains and a mild warming in the temperature. The gardens were budding, the birds were slowly returning, and Lizzy was experiencing an acute period of waspishness and unease. For two weeks she woke every morning to the loving administrations of her husband, yet could not overcome her peevishness. She did not feel unwell, simply restless and constantly annoyed. Darcy, of course, sensed her angst and attempted to talk to her about it, but she snapped at him, highly unusual, so he let it go, surmising that it was mostly a result of the endless dreary weather and forced confinement.
The afternoon of April sixteenth brought all to a head and was the beginning of one of the worst weeks of Darcy’s long life.
Lizzy’s increasingly surly attitude was seriously disturbing Darcy, even to the point of not being able to comfort her during their lovemaking. Despite his improved intuitiveness and ability to communicate intimately, he was at a loss as to what was causing his wife’s distress. This pained him tremendously. He had considered the possibility that she might be with child as a cause. He was aware that she was late on her monthly cycle and had thoroughly searched the medical text for pregnancy symptoms, but nothing was said of irritation as a sign. Whatever the case, he determined to devote the evening after dinner to lovingly and patiently encouraging her to open up to him.
Lizzy, in the meantime, was privately also grievously disquieted with her persistent vexation, but she could not seem to control her emotions. That morning as her amazing, tender, sensual, and gorgeous husband had nuzzled her neck, stroked her body, and whispered his love and devotion, she had felt only irritation, and for the first time ever since their wedding night, she did not reach fulfillment. Later, when alone in her dressing room, she had broken into sobs that she could not halt. She, too, had wondered if she might be pregnant and had also perused the text. Unfortunately, if she was with child, it was far too early to be verified and she could not blame her mood on a possibility.
Darcy and his steward were secreted in his study all afternoon dealing with one of Darcy’s more complicated and sensitive investments with a German steel manufacturer. When his wife burst into the room unannounced, it was not a mere irritation but an astoundingly rude, deleterious interruption and a heinous breach of propriety.
“William,” she snapped, “what is the meaning of you ordering the stables not to allow me to take the curricle out today?
“Mr. Keith, will you please excuse us for a moment?”
Lizzy glared at her husband, realizing on some level that she was utterly wrong but not able to stop her fury. “Well?” she demanded once the door shut behind the steward.
“Mrs. Darcy, may I remind you that when I am in my study with my steward, I am not to be disturbed unless it is a matter of extreme import which,” he raised his deceptively serene tone mildly to halt her retort, “this most decidedly is not. However, as the damage has already been done, I will answer your misplaced and rude inquiry.” He paused and took a deep breath to calm his anger, his countenance dour. “The roads are washed out and muddy, and a storm is expected to arrive this afternoon. It is not safe for you to be out, alone or otherwise.”
“But… ”
“There is nothing further to discuss, Elizabeth. I am sorry for the inconvenience but it cannot be helped.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she turned away. Darcy sighed, feeling most of his anger fading, and approached her, touching her arm lightly. “My love, I know you are tired of being cooped up. I assure you the pleasant Derbyshire weather is coming soon. Tonight we must talk about whatever is bothering you. However, right now it is essential that I finish my business with Mr. Keith. I beg of you, please do not barge in here in this manner again. It is unseemly.”
She whirled on him, her face enraged, causing him to retreat a step in shock. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, for being such a nuisance. I will bow to the Master’s demands and trouble you no more.” She stalked out of the room, slammed the door, and marched up to her bedchamber, a room in which she had spent less than an hour during her entire four-plus months at Pemberley. Darcy did not see her for the remainder of the night. His exasperation at the entire episode was intense, yet little did he know that their misfortunes were just beginning.
Chapter Seventeen
Conflict and Calamity
LIZZY DID NOT DINE with Darcy and Georgiana that evening. A maid informed them that the Mistress was not feeling well and had requested a tray in her chambers. Darcy maintained his mask of serenity in front of his sister, who suspected nothing, but inside he seethed. Throughout the remainder of that wretched afternoon, as he forced himself to focus on the business at hand with Mr. Keith, Darcy had vacillated between boiling anger and nauseating heartache. Somehow he had managed to conclude the arrangements with the steel company in Germany, but he would be hard pressed to articulate how it had transpired. The details had taken so long that Darcy had barely enough time to dress for dinner, so he was unaware of his wife changing residence to her unused bedchamber.
Therefore, when he ascended the staircase immediately after dinner, apologizing to his sister for an aborted evening, he was further shocked to discover his wife absent. He had determined to talk to her, swallowing his ire as best he could—which actually was not too difficult, as his love fo
r her and concern for her well-being were consuming his thoughts.
Initially, upon not finding her in their chambers, he was flooded with panic. Where could she be? A storm had struck, as he had predicted, and his worst fear was that she had decided to take a walk. He dashed from the room, encountering Marguerite in the hallway, who informed him of Mrs. Darcy’s whereabouts. Darcy was thunderstruck and numbly murmured a thank you as he returned to their rooms.
It would require paragraph upon paragraph to list the emotions that assaulted poor Mr. Darcy throughout that evening and night. Mechanically he went through the motions of bathing and shaving and preparing for bed. He wandered about the room, ignoring their warm and inviting bed with the covers turned down in anticipation, until he could take it no more and, in a fit of rage, violently closed the bed curtains on the sight and stalked into their sitting room where he remained.
Once there, he spent the hours pacing and muttering. He vainly attempted to read and write in his journal and attend to correspondence, paced some more, prayed, and drank several glasses of brandy. He walked down the hallway to her door at least a dozen times and knocked twice, but received no answer either time, which vexed him further. Finally, the combined effects of alcohol and sheer exhaustion, both mental and physical, caused him to fall asleep in the chaise around two in the morning.
As for Lizzy, her childish and unfathomable temper tantrum of earlier had left her weary beyond belief and ill. She called for a tray but could not eat. By the time her husband found her missing from their chambers, most of her irritability had evaporated, leaving only profound shame in its wake. She was utterly mortified at her actions. She continued to experience a lingering pique that she could not account for, but mostly she was heartsick. She paced about the unfamiliar and poorly decorated room, wanting nothing more than to be in Darcy’s arms, but she was too embarrassed to approach him.
She suspected and hoped he would come to her after dinner. When he did not, she became freshly rankled for a spell but finally buried her foolishness and pride. She peeked into their bedchamber, but her timing was unfortunate. At that precise moment, Darcy was knocking on her door and she was viewing a dark bedchamber with drawn bed curtains. Darcy assumed she was refusing to answer, and she assumed he had peacefully gone to sleep without her. Their erroneous assumptions brought on a renewed rush of acrimony.
Lizzy raged, paced, and sobbed until she was literally sick. Weak and trembling, feverish and cramping, she crawled into the cold bed and fell into a troubled sleep. Therefore, she did not hear her husband’s second knock.
Darcy woke at dawn cramped, cold, headachy, and not nearly rested enough. His mind was clouded with excessive drink and sleep deprivation. He could hardly formulate a coherent thought, but he knew one thing for absolute certain: he was lonely and desperate to hold and kiss his wife. Nothing mattered but the incontrovertible fact that he loved her beyond comprehension and was miserable without her. He approached her door but was informed by an exiting chambermaid that the Mistress was fast asleep. Darcy opted to freshen up, a wise choice in light of his disheveled appearance, and come to her over breakfast and mend their argument, no matter what it took to do so.
While Darcy dressed, Lizzy woke and immediately ran to the chamber pot and was sick again. Marguerite drew her bath and Lizzy gratefully sank into the hot water, too queasy even to think about eating. Lizzy felt as if a blanket had fallen over her head. She was fuzzy and sleepy, the now familiar tendrils of irritation whisking over her once again. Mostly she was overwhelmed by woe from what she foolishly perceived was her husband’s abandonment.
The next two hours were a chaotic mess of the two despondent lovers narrowly missing each other and therefore continuing to leap to false conclusions. By the time they coincidentally encountered each other in the main foyer, their individual emotions were running rampant. Darcy was rushing out the door to attend to an unexpected and serious occurrence at the wool-shearing shed, his horse and Mr. Keith both stomping in agitation in the courtyard. Lizzy was still feeling unwell and her sadness, confusion, and chagrin were rendering her unfit for civil company, so she was heading to the quiet solitude of the conservatory. For several moments they simply stood there in silence, eyes not meeting, as they both frantically grasped for the proper words to verbalize in a public area with the footman holding Darcy’s overcoat within earshot.
“I am on my way out,” he eventually offered. “I do not expect I shall return until late afternoon.”
Lizzy, of course, had no knowledge of the disaster, continued to believe he had slept unperturbed through the night, and refused to meet his eyes, so she did not witness the naked agony and desire revealed therein. “I see,” she murmured. “Well then, until later I suppose. I pray you have a pleasant day, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy was further confused by her flat tone and taken aback by her words. “Pleasant? Elizabeth, I rather doubt… .”
“I thought I would later take a walk about the grounds.” She interrupted him, glancing up for the first time as she continued in a heated rush, “Provided, of course, this meets with the approval of the Master?”
The very second the words passed her lips, as she finally saw the yearning and grief in his eyes, mingled with confusion, she knew she had made a dreadful mistake. It was too late. The Darcy mask of aloof indifference and disdain fell over his face and he straightened stiffly, only the thin line of his lips indicative of his anger and wounding. “Whatever you wish, Mrs. Darcy. Good day, Madame.” With a curt bow, he spun on his heels and left.
Lizzy stood rooted to the spot for long moments, stunned and so horribly ashamed. Her remorse threatened to bring her to her knees and she struggled to breathe as she lunged toward the door, tears pouring from her eyes so she could barely see. “William!” she screamed.
He was halfway down the drive traveling at a brisk canter, but he turned in his saddle. Their eyes met across the distance for the briefest span, but it was enough. He smiled and waved. Lizzy nearly collapsed in relief as she smiled and waved in return. Then he was gone and she would not see him again for four days.
That one fleeting glance was sufficient to sustain her throughout the morning and afternoon. Last night’s storm had passed, leaving the ground boggier than it already was, but the air was clear and sweetly fresh. The sun shone brightly and it promised to be the loveliest day of the spring thus far. Lizzy felt renewed. Her nausea had vanished; her heart was buoyed by her love’s smile; and the constant irritation of the past two weeks had dissipated. She was famished and ate a hearty lunch, chatting pleasantly with Georgiana, who remained unaware of the argument and was simply glad that Elizabeth was well.
Two hours elapsed as Elizabeth and Georgiana practiced on the pianoforte together, talking and laughing in sisterly companionship. Lizzy urgently needed to stretch her legs, the sunny day beckoning to her. Georgiana opted to go for a ride, so the women parted for the latter half of the afternoon. Lizzy confiscated a bucket from the kitchen, visiting briefly with Mrs. Langton and the girls, before she set off. On one of her earlier excursions abroad, she had discovered a copse of dewberries approximately a half mile north on the main road. It was perhaps a week or two premature, but in hopes that a few might be ripe and aware that Darcy adored them, Lizzy set off in their direction.
Her route took her along the main Pemberley avenue to the northwest across the bridge, a good mile by itself. There was a path that led diagonally through the woods to the north beside the river, but Darcy had cautioned her to avoid it in the winter, as it was no more than a narrow deer trail and not well maintained. She strolled leisurely, her spirits soaring additionally with each step she took. By the time she was halfway down the drive she was humming and swinging her bucket like a young girl.
She arrived at the berry thicket, delighted to note that although they were mostly green, there was an ample supply of ripe berries. She continued to hum and sing softly as she picked, actually perspiring in the increasing warmth. Her mind wander
ed to her husband incessantly as she formulated plans for their evening together. The madness of their argument must be put behind them and, as she envisioned all the titillating ways to make up, her flush increased. Feeling slightly light-headed from the unexpectedly balmy day and her licentious musings, Lizzy tucked her partially filled bucket under her arm and set off for home.
She had crossed the road and taken her first steps south when she heard the rattle of carriage wheels and horses from behind her. She moved to the edge and halted, prepared to amiably greet whoever was approaching, but her brilliant smile froze on her face when she beheld the leering visage of the Marquis of Orman.
He reined his chaise to a halt next to her. “Why, Mrs. Darcy, what a delightful surprise this is! May I inquire as to your health this fine afternoon?”
“I am quite well, thank you, Lord Orman. I trust you are the same?”
“Perfectly delightful, I daresay. What errand brings you out here unescorted, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Merely walking on this fine afternoon, as you pointed out, and collecting dewberries for Mr. Darcy.”
“What a thoughtful wife you are, Madame. Darcy is a fortunate man indeed.”
“We are mutually fortunate. I shall not delay you any further, Marquis. Good day to you.” Lizzy curtseyed and turned to resume her walk.
“Mrs. Darcy, may I offer the services of my carriage? It is warm today and you appear quite flushed.”
“I assure you I am fine and, if you remember, I revealed to you that I enjoy walking, so thank you, but no.” She took several steps before she realized that he was alighting from his vehicle.
“Mrs. Darcy,” he called to her and she stopped, “I would like to take this opportunity, if you will allow, to apologize for my behavior at the Masque. It was inexcusable and I am deeply remorseful. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
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