Darcy and Elizabeth--A Most Unlikely Couple

by Brenda J. Webb

  “I do not deserve understanding, for I insisted that we order all her clothes this morning, even her footwear. She must have been famished, but she never said a word.”

  At that moment, a young maid deposited the housekeeper’s black bag beside her on the bed, and Mrs. Barnes retrieved a bottle of smelling salts from inside it. Waving it under Elizabeth’s nose, it caused her eyes to blink open.

  “There you are!” Mrs. Barnes smiled warmly at her. “How do you feel, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “Wha... what happened?”

  “You fainted,” William answered.

  Sending the maid for a cup of tea and a sweet roll from the tray in the sitting room, Mrs. Barnes sat down next to Elizabeth. “Help me raise her, sir, so that she may take some tea. It should be lukewarm by this time and will do nicely.”

  William did as asked, propping some pillows behind Elizabeth’s back after he got her settled. She eagerly drank the entire cup of tea.

  “Very good. Now, Cook fixed these rolls just this morning and they are fresh. Try to eat a few bites.”

  “I do not think—”

  “You must eat, Elizabeth,” William said gently but firmly, “or I shall be forced to send for the physician, and he will no doubt concoct some horrible-tasting potion for you to drink, so please listen to Mrs. Barnes. At least try to eat part of the roll.”

  Turning her eyes to the housekeeper, Elizabeth nodded and began eating the roll one small piece at a time, with more sips of tea in between.

  After it was done, the housekeeper ventured, “Would you allow me to bring you a cup of Mrs. Colton’s vegetable soup? She has just prepared it, and I feel certain you will do much better with something more nourishing in your stomach.” Elizabeth conceded. “Wonderful,” the older woman said. “Rest for now, and I shall bring it up shortly.”

  After she exited the room, Elizabeth grew uncomfortable under William’s watchful gaze. Not wishing to argue with him, she closed her eyes, hoping he would leave. He did not. Instead, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it as tenderly as one would a child’s.

  “Forgive me. It was wrong of me to insist that you order everything you will need as Mrs. Darcy in this one session. It is just that there are no first-rate modistes in Lambton, and I would not have you lack for anything. I expect my neighbours to invite us to many soirées once we settle at Pemberley. They will be keen to make your acquaintance, thus the reason for the sheer number of gowns and slippers. Additionally, the weather in Derbyshire is more severe than in Hertfordshire. We have colder winters with much more snow and ice. Your cloth pelisses and cloaks, not to mention unlined boots, will be insufficient, to say the least. You really must have fur-lined boots and cloaks.”

  Elizabeth only nodded. It would not do for him to know how furious she had become over the course of the morning, for he had decided every pattern, fabric and colour of her new gowns—even the trims—without consulting her. And the modiste was no better, for once when she expressed reservations about how revealing the décolleté would be on a certain pattern, Madam Bouvier had stopped in mid-sentence to gawk at her. Then she returned to her conversation with Mr. Darcy without replying. It was unsettling not to be taken seriously, and thereafter she had remained mute in protest. She winced at the memory. I had to faint in order to gain their attention!

  Her expression instantly gained William’s attention. “Elizabeth, I think it best that we send our regrets to my aunt and forego the ball. You are clearly exhausted.”

  “No, please. Your aunt expects us, and I have done enough harm to my own sisters’ prospects; I do not wish to add Georgiana to the toll. Besides, I wish to attend.”

  William looked dismayed. “If that is your wish, then we shall, but only if you eat well for the rest of the day and are clearly in better health tomorrow.”

  “All will be well. You shall see.”

  “Do you feel like having Mr. Curry do his sketches today, or shall I send him away? He is to be here in less than an hour.”

  “I have forgotten. Who is Mr. Curry?”

  “He is an artist who has done our family portraits since I was small. I have asked him to do your wedding portrait. His method is to do a few quick sketches of the subject here in London. Then in his studio he will expand upon the sketches, creating different poses and backgrounds. When he comes to Pemberley to complete the portrait, you will be able to visualise how each pose will look and choose the one that suits.”

  “I have never heard of such a thing,” Elizabeth said listlessly. “Of course, I have never had a portrait done.”

  William smiled as he pushed a curl behind her ear. “While I am sure that he would rather have you pose in your wedding gown, I may be able to talk him into sketching the gown itself, and then do a few brief sketches of you. Or, I can put him off if you would rather—”

  “Just let me have a few minutes to lie here and rest. When he arrives, I shall be fully able to pose.”

  “If you are sure.”

  “I am.”

  “Then I shall leave you. I have business that needs attending, and I shall be in my study if you need me.”

  With those words, William quit the room, and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief to be alone at last. She had wanted to think over her aunt’s advice of that morning, but had not had a minute to herself. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, recalling everything that was said.

  In less than an hour, Mrs. Barnes came to inform her that Mr. Curry and her husband were awaiting her in the study. Having fallen asleep briefly after her meal, she was well rested and ready to begin again.

  INSIDE MADAM BOUVIER’S Carriage

  Having served the women of London for the last fifteen years, Elena Bouvier was now at the pinnacle of her career. The foremost modiste in Town, if not in the entirety of England, none of the leading ladies of society dared appear in public wearing a gown by anyone else. A fiery redhead of Sicilian ancestry, handsome and well-figured, having never borne children, she was the best at her craft, and all who mattered knew that.

  Her shop now flourished next to Humphrey’s Print Shop 10 near Boodles on St. James’ Street and just up the lane from White’s. She had not always been in such august company, however. As a young woman, she had arrived in England with her first husband, a Frenchman, whom she supported with her seamstress skills while he entertained other women. He returned to France shortly after with his lover, and that became the turning point in Madam Bouvier’s life. She vowed then and there never again to support anyone but herself. That did not mean, however, that she did not occasionally enjoy a man’s company, so she took some lovers, all wealthy and more than glad to contribute to her success by steering their wives to her shop.

  Engaged in a woman’s province, she was privy to a good deal of gossip, for she was very discreet, and the women she dressed trusted her explicitly. Thus, it was not unusual for her customers to discuss the most desirable men in their circles. Over the years, one name came up more frequently than others—Fitzwilliam Darcy. Every season, he seemed the target of most of the newly arrived debutants, all the younger widows, as well as a goodly number of married women.

  Madam Bouvier understood the attraction well. Having fallen under his spell the first time he walked into her shop to enquire about gowns for his sister, she was still speechless whenever he appeared unexpectedly. For not only was exceptionally handsome, but there was an air of inaccessibility about him that begged to be conquered, and she had tried, dropping numerous hints over the years that she would welcome his company. The fact that he had completely ignored her and was still unmarried had finally persuaded her that, most likely, he did not favour women. That had changed today!

  Departing Darcy House as swiftly as her well-equipped carriage would move, she had people to call on. Rumours had been swirling concerning the woman who had stolen Mr. Darcy’s heart and, fortuitously, she had been chosen to dress her. Now that the appointment had concluded, she was eager to pass al
ong her impressions of Mrs. Darcy to her confidants. Many were not only willing to pay for silks and satins, but even more generously if the gown came with a bit of gossip. And today she had gossip in abundance.

  It had truly been an enlightening experience. Who would have thought Mr. Darcy was as red-blooded as the next man, totally besotted with the dark-haired pixie that was now his wife? Not only had he commissioned enough garments to insure that she had the finest wardrobe in all of England, but when his young wife had swooned, he had been reduced from the idol of the ton to a mere mortal, frantically begging her to open her eyes and speak to him. Enthralled by such a display of affection from so detached an icon as Fitzwilliam Darcy, she had been unable to move a muscle until the tender scene had played out.

  Wait until I tell them that he is besotted! That shall astound the lot of them.

  Unaware of the thoughts running through her employer’s head, her assistant, Loreli, asked, “Do you think we shall be able to finish the gowns that Mr. Darcy wishes to take with them when they leave for Derbyshire? Frankly, I do not know how it can be accomplished.”

  Pulled from her reverie, Madam Bouvier shrugged. “Working day and night, we may be able to finish several before they leave. I shall summon all our extra seamstresses back to work and postpone all other orders until we get Mrs. Darcy’s wardrobe done. That will be a small price to pay for the privilege of dressing her. She shall be the object of everyone’s attention for years to come. Even if he hides her away in the north for a time, she will have to come back to London at some point. And when she does, what she is wearing will be the talk of the ton. It can only enhance my reputation.”

  Loreli leaned over to whisper to her employer, unwilling that the two seamstresses riding across from them hear. “I have to say that I do not see the attraction. She is pretty but not as handsome as some who have pursued him. Mrs. Darcy is certainly not the type of woman I thought Mr. Darcy would choose to marry—not that I thought he ever would. He seemed much too fastidious.”

  “Oh? Did you picture him marrying someone like Lady Susan, perhaps? To be truthful, so did I, but I was wrong, and it seems I have been entirely wrong about his proclivities. What was evident to me today is that he is truly in love with that young woman, and I have to say that I am pleased for her, as well as him.”

  “Pleased? I thought that you fancied him yourself.”

  “I have long since abandoned that goal,” she laughed. “However, I am a romantic at heart. And to see a man that I thought so unfeeling act the schoolboy,” she shook her head in awe, “well, let me just say that my belief in true love has been restored, and that is no little feat for one as jaded as I.”

  Loreli sighed. “I cannot deny that I had a tear in my eye when he was begging her to awaken. Would that some man would act as besotted over me!”

  “Or even half as besotted.” Madam Bouvier sighed wistfully. Then she chuckled. “However, I doubt that shall ever happen. And there is no sense dwelling on it, as we have much to accomplish in a short period of time.”

  The rest of the trip was spent discussing the amount of fabrics, lace, trim and such needed to make Mrs. Darcy’s wardrobe, as well as the names of all the women they would need to contact to help with the endeavour.

  Chapter 15

  Pemberley

  Mrs. Reynolds hurried towards the gardens, eager to find the Fitzwilliams and deliver the letter that had arrived for them not ten minutes before. Clearly, it was from Mr. Darcy as it was on the same paper as he had used for her own letter and was in his script. She felt certain that their missive shared the same information—he was married!

  As she progressed, the housekeeper recalled her shock when opening the letter addressed to her. The news contained therein had almost caused her heart to stop, and she had sunk into one of the chairs in the foyer, almost in a trance. Only Mr. Walker’s immediate intervention had brought her around, for seeing the shock on her face, he had called her name and patted her hand until she recovered her senses. Afterward, enquiring as to what had alarmed her so seriously, she had shared the letter with him. Mr. Walker had been with the Darcys almost as long as she and was like a member of the family as well. The news had left him equally as bewildered.

  “What do you suppose happened?” Mr. Walker asked. “Do you think our dear boy has been ensnared by a fortune hunter?”

  “It is never a good thing when a man of Mr. Darcy’s stature marries on the spur of the moment, without a formal engagement and accompanied by all the public and private celebrations that someone of his sphere merits. To just announce that he is married, especially to a woman we have never met nor heard of—well, that is just not done!”

  “I agree entirely.”

  “I am certain that this letter to the Fitzwilliams informs them of the same. Perhaps they can shed some light on the situation. Maybe they know the lady, or at the least have heard of her. I cannot enquire, of course, but they may say something to ease my mind.”

  “If not, I would be tempted to ask,” the butler interjected.

  “I shall be sure to let you know if they divulge anything significant in my presence.”

  IN THE GARDEN

  Joseph and Olivia Fitzwilliam sat on a thick woollen blanket that lay on the ground under a large oak tree. Though Joseph rested his back against the tree trunk, his wife sat nearer the edge of the blanket. She had been trying for days to entice the kittens that frequented that part of the garden to join her. Today, they had warmed up to the idea and crept onto the blanket where she petted first one and then another. The more frightened mother cat had even moved to within a few feet, which was unusual, as she had never gotten that close to anyone at Pemberley, according to Mrs. Reynolds.

  “You mentioned keeping one for a pet, Livy. Which one do you favour?”

  “The white one is curious, the orange striped wants only to play, but the gray loves to be held. Oh, I cannot pick just one!” Olivia Fitzwilliam lamented. Then she laughed as the black and white kitten licked the ends of her fingers. “I fear that this one has found the residue from the sweet roll I just finished.”

  Joseph left his spot to lie down alongside Olivia, rolling over to prop on one elbow as he watched his wife work her magic on the shy kittens. As always, he was amazed at her ability to befriend the most timorous of creatures—be it animal or human.

  Out of the blue, the mother cat suddenly edged forward. His wife held out her hand to the calico and the animal gave it a sniff before nudging it. Olivia stroked the cat’s head, continuing until its eyes began to close. It was not long until the animal was lying beside her while some of her kittens nursed and the others fell fast asleep.

  “God certainly gifted you with a special ability to communicate with all living creatures, Livy. I would never have thought the calico would have given in so easily.”

  “Often the one most in need of a gentle touch offers the greatest resistance. Some creatures feel hurt more deeply and if their spirits are wounded when they are young, they are not as likely to open their hearts again.”

  “Why do I think you are no longer speaking of cats?”

  “Because you are right. For some reason, I have had Fitzwilliam on my mind a good bit lately. He has even frequented my dreams, though I see him as he was when last we visited, at about six or seven years of age. I have not said anything about it, but when greeting him upon our arrival, I instantly felt a deep sadness emanating from him. It was almost palpable.”

  “I am not surprised. His lot in life has not been easy, what with Anne’s many miscarriages, stillbirths and her early death. And George was dead by the time he was twenty. It would be overwhelming to take over the reins of an estate the size of Pemberley at any age, but Fitzwilliam was full young and still had to act as guardian for Georgiana. I am amazed at how well he has managed it all.”

  “I am not sure he has coped well at all, for he has shunned courtship and marriage to raise Georgiana, and now he is all alone. I am certain that the love of a g
ood woman would help to heal his wounded spirit, if only he would open his heart to one.”

  “Wounded spirit,” Joseph repeated. “What a sad phrase!”

  “But appropriate, I believe. I still remember how close he was to Anne the summer we were here. He was so solicitous, bringing her flowers and whatever other treasures he found in the yard. I can only imagine his heartache when she died. After all, he was still just a young... ”

  Olivia voice trailed off as she noticed Mrs. Reynolds rounding the gate that led to the fish pond and their hideaway. She waved.

  The housekeeper waved in answer, the bucolic scene just ahead causing her to stop for a moment in her tracks. What would Mr. Darcy’s marriage mean for the Fitzwilliams?

  My hope is that they would stay here instead of returning to Ireland, but everything will likely change now that there is a new mistress. I can only pray it changes for the best.

  DARCY HOUSE

  The next day

  As Elizabeth came downstairs to break her fast, she found Colonel Fitzwilliam in the foyer, talking with Mr. Barnes. He instantly turned to greet her.

  “Mrs. Darcy, it is good to see you again. I hope that you are well.”

  “I am, thank you,” was all she had time to reply before her husband walked out of the dining room.

  William looked very handsome in his dark brown suede riding breeches, matching coat and black boots with brown tops that came to the knee. Her breath caught and she looked away, unwilling to expose her discomposure.

  “Elizabeth!” he called jovially, crossing to where she stood next to Richard. “I was coming to find you. My cousin and I have some very important business we must attend to in Richmond this morning. I will not be back until late this afternoon.”

  And no doubt that business involves illegitimate children, Elizabeth thought as her mood instantly darkened. “It would only take a short while for me to dress and accompany you,” she said, testing his resolve not to tell her.