Darcy and Elizabeth--A Most Unlikely Couple

by Brenda J. Webb

  “If I am successful, you will see us both. If not, then I shall be there, in any case.”

  As she exited the drawing room, Olivia was nearly overcome with emotion. Going, in so short a time frame, from despair over Fitzwilliam to optimism for the reunion of Joseph’s family was hard to grasp. And that Lady Matlock’s apology was a result of their mutual love for Fitzwilliam was heart-rending. For just when he and Elizabeth had become separated by his injury, the rest of the family appeared to be reconciling.

  Picking up her pace, Olivia was eager to find Joseph and tell him what had been discussed. And since the entire conversation had reminded her that no one was promised tomorrow, she wished to tell him again how dearly she loved him.

  LATER

  Elizabeth ran across the joint sitting room and into her bedroom. Opening the door, she slipped inside and leaned back against it just as the tears that always hovered below the surface now began to roll down her cheeks. William’s petulance was hard to suffer. In their few short weeks of marital bliss, she had become used to his kindness and the hunger in his eyes whenever he looked at her. To have him snap at her now and look at her as though she was a complete stranger was almost too much to bear. In fact, the sudden realisation that he might never again look at her with desire had caused her to be physically sick. Thus, out of necessity, she had excused herself and raced from his bedroom. In hindsight, she was relieved that Colonel Fitzwilliam had not as yet joined them, and only Mr. Adams was witness to her distress.

  Totally unable to control her tears, she rushed to her huge bed. Flinging herself upon it, she sobbed into a pillow while grabbing another to cover her head in hopes of muffling the noise. It was not an easy task to hide when she cried, for her relations, her maid, and even the housekeeper had presumed it their duty to keep her company. Whilst she was grateful for their concern, the constant companionship left her little time to mourn the state of her marriage.

  Thankfully, her sitting room was unoccupied, so no one knew of her discomposure today except Adams, and he was unlikely to mention it to anyone. If they were to check on her, they would find the doors locked and think she was taking a nap; thus, for a time, she was free to mourn her loss. Reaching under the counterpane on the other side of the bed, she brought out the nightshirt that William had left on the bed the morning he departed for Laughlin Manor. Since it held the scent of his cologne, she had kept it from the maid who collected the clothes to launder. Having it was the only way she could sleep with him gone. Bringing to her face the tangible reminder of the love they had shared only days ago, she took a deep breath. Then her hands slid down to the small swell of her stomach.

  Chapter 41

  Pemberley

  Daylight found Richard slipping quietly down the grand staircase to meet with his uncle privately. Despite the exhaustion of having travelled at breakneck speed to get back to Pemberley, after seeing William last evening, he had done naught but stare at the fresco on the ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise. He had a decision to make, one that, if he followed his intuition, would most likely provoke his cousin to behave even worse than at present—at least in the beginning.

  I am certain that I will not endear myself to him. Bloody blazes! I could have the entire family against me, but if he were one of my men, I would have acted already.

  He was not unsympathetic to William’s circumstances. On the contrary, after seeing the results of his injury, Richard worried that his cousin might never recover completely. Even so, he could not, in good conscience, watch William wallow in the self-pity that was currently manifesting itself in angry outbursts. He had seen the results of allowing William to brood. It had taken years to coax him from the despair that followed his father’s death, and the prospect of that happening a second time frightened Richard much more than any discord he might create.

  Everyone assumes Darcy will miraculously regain his good humour once he begins to heal. That proves they do not know you well at all, Cousin!

  Confident of finding the dining room already laden with food, for Mrs. Lantrip always accommodated his early hours when he was in residence, Richard headed directly there. Fortuitously, the one he wished to talk with had preceded him and was pouring a cup of coffee as he entered the room.

  “Good morning,” Joseph Fitzwilliam greeted. Then noting Richard’s blood-shot eyes, added, “My word, you look dreadful!”

  Richard could not but smile at the declaration. “Has anyone ever told you that you are quite the flatterer, Uncle? I think not!” A yawn came so quickly that he barely managed to cover his mouth. “Excuse me. I suppose I must look a fright. I did not sleep a wink last night.”

  “Having my brother at the dinner table last evening was enough to keep me awake. What precipitated your insomnia?”

  “Actually, that is what I wish to speak with you about; however, I refuse to do it on an empty stomach. As for Father, I can certainly sympathise, for he and I are like oil and water. It follows, then, that we are both fortunate, because my parents are leaving today.” Richard began to pour his own cup of coffee. “Besides, while I pray Father is sincere, I do not trust his ‘change of heart’ concerning you just yet.”

  “Exactly,” Joseph stated. “I am unable to decide between letting down my guard and keeping my powder dry.”

  “And well you should be.” Shortly after, each had filled a plate with food, and as they took their places at the table, Richard added, “I will commend Father for thwarting Aunt Catherine’s campaign to forcibly take Darcy to Rosings in order to oversee his recuperation.”

  “Catherine was always selfish, but I had no idea how evil she had become. Her scheme had nothing to do with Fitzwilliam. It was about tormenting Elizabeth for marrying the one she intended for Anne.” Joseph stopped eating to consider a new idea. “I wonder if Georgiana had a part in letting my sister know of his injury, for Edward swore that he did not.”

  “Your suspicion makes me think that my cousin is being as contrary as usual.”

  “If anything, Fitzwilliam’s injury has emboldened her.” Joseph then related Georgiana’s behaviour since William had lost all memory of Elizabeth. “It is difficult, but we try not to leave her alone with him.”

  “I will not allow Georgiana to undermine Mrs. Darcy. Even if my cousin does not show his wife the respect she deserves, he will appreciate our defence of her once he regains his senses.”

  Joseph nodded. Afterward, both ate in silence, each pondering what might happen if William never regained his memories of Elizabeth. Neither man dared to voice his misgivings however.

  AFTER A WHILE, RICHARD was too full to take another bite, so he began to explain to his uncle his rationale for not allowing William to continue his disagreeable behaviour. There was silence for a time after he finished, and he began to wonder if Joseph disagreed with his view. That was dispelled when his uncle finally spoke.

  “Until recently, Fitzwilliam and I were scarcely in each other’s company, so I may not be the best person to ask for an opinion. I will confess, though, that while Olivia and I are still extremely concerned for Fitzwilliam’s health, we had begun to worry about his insensitivity with regard to those who are caring for him. Most especially, it breaks our hearts to see him respond so coldly to Elizabeth.”

  “I agree completely. I mentioned her last night—several times, actually, but he always changed the subject.”

  “With all you have shared, it appears that giving Fitzwilliam free rein to continue his rudeness will do more harm ultimately—not to mention the toll it is taking on my niece. He must be confronted, and who better to do the job than you? Being the best of friends, he cannot question your motivation.”

  “Oh, but he will! Never doubt that!” Richard said, letting go a hollow laugh. “Please understand, too, that while I am pleased you agree, I do not ask that you or my aunt take the same stiff posture.”

  “On the contrary, I think we all should,” Joseph declared. “It will make more of an impression if none of us allo
w his petulance to go unchallenged. I do expect Georgiana to disagree, however.”

  “I will deal with her. After all, I am also her guardian, and I may just send her off to Matlock for a time.”

  “So you are. I had forgotten,” Joseph said sombrely. “And there is Mr. Camryn to deal with. He advises us to ignore Fitzwilliam’s rudeness, attributing his irritability to his maladies and concluding his amiability will return once he is healed.”

  “Camryn does not know Darcy as I do; he was not acquainted with him when Uncle George died. Besides, he comes once a day to examine my cousin now, so unless Darcy or Georgiana complains, Camryn may never be the wiser.”

  “I forgot to inform you that Elizabeth had me send for Mr. Graham. He is likely on his way here as we speak. In fact, I had hoped that you might meet him along the road.”

  “I was a day north of Town when I met Colonel North and was given the bad news. If Graham left Town immediately upon receipt of your letter, he could be here in another day or so. I am glad that he is coming, for, unlike Camryn, he completely understands Darcy’s penchant for slipping into gloom.”

  Richard stood to his feet. “Well, I suppose all that commotion outside the door means Mother’s trunks are amassing in the foyer, and it will not be long until they leave.”

  “They must eat before they depart.”

  “Exactly! And unless we wish to hear Father hold forth again this morning, we should vacate this room straightaway. Care to accompany me to locate Sergeant Thaggart?”

  “I will if you wish it. Mr. Walker said Thaggart chose to stay in the grooms’ quarters until your return.”

  “I am not surprised. That man enjoys the company of horses more than people. Unfortunately, it falls to me to inform him he is to attach himself to General Grier in York until my return to duty. He will not be pleased. He hates York.”

  “If you do not mind my asking, how long is your leave?”

  “I requested four weeks, but that was before I learned of Darcy’s illness. I intend to request another two weeks as soon as I have time to write General Lassiter in London.”

  “Hopefully, in that length of time my nephew shall be completely back to normal.”

  “Hopefully,” Richard repeated. “By the way, after we are done with Thaggart, will you join me in bidding my parents adieu?”

  “Safety in numbers?” Joseph teased.

  “Could not hurt!”

  ELIZABETH’S STUDY

  Olivia was having no success finding Elizabeth. There was no question that she was still in the house, for she had promised not to leave the manor without informing Mrs. Reynolds; however, a search of her bedroom suite and all her favourite places downstairs had proved futile. Suddenly recalling where she should have looked in the first place, she made her way back up the grand staircase. Now standing at the door to Elizabeth’s study, she hurriedly whispered a prayer. Before the tragedy, they had shared a bond that few women could boast—a marriage based on love—so Olivia knew exactly how she would feel if the situation was reversed.

  Despite her best efforts, a tear slid down her cheek, and she swiftly wiped it away. Extracting a handkerchief from her pocket, Olivia dabbed at the corners of her eyes, replaced the handkerchief and took a deep breath. Knocking on the door, she called, “Elizabeth? Dearest, may I come in?”

  There was no answer, so she tried the doorknob, and it turned effortlessly. Cautiously, she entered the study. Elizabeth was not behind her desk or at the large table used to assemble coats for the orphans and the tenants’ children. One coat was lying on the table, unfinished—a poignant reminder of happier times spent with her niece. Upon closer inspection, though, she noted that the coat looked as if it had been abruptly abandoned, for a threaded needle was still stuck in the hem. In addition, scraps of cloth, scissors and thread lay scattered across the table where, normally, they would have been put away when work ceased.

  As fortune would have it, when Olivia turned to leave, she caught sight of something passing the windows. Elizabeth! Recalling that there was a door in this room that opened onto the balcony, she walked to the wall of windows. There she discovered a door that looked like a window when it was closed. Opening it, she declared, “Elizabeth, I have been looking all over for you.”

  Elizabeth had been leaning against one of the posts along the balcony and quickly straightened. When she turned to face Olivia, it was with reddened eyes and a wan smile.

  “I... I was working on a coat, but the sunlight was so beautiful that it beckoned me onto the balcony.”

  Olivia came forward to clasp her niece’s hands and search her eyes for the truth. It was plain that each day without a change in Fitzwilliam had dimmed the hope that once burned brightly within them.

  “I am pleased that you are getting some fresh air. You neglected your walk yesterday, and you have yet to walk out today.”

  “I was so busy that I forgot.”

  “Mrs. O’Reilly said that you went to visit Fitzwilliam and did not return afterward. Did he say something unkind to you again?”

  Elizabeth’s face crumpled and she struggled not to cry. “It seems that my presence only serves to make him ill at ease. He was in pain with his shoulder, and I offered to apply more of the salve. He snapped at me, and I began to cry. Then he said... he said... ”

  Her voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort not to sob. “I am so, so sorry. I know I should not cry at every little thing he says or does.”

  Olivia cradled her face tenderly. “Do not apologise, Elizabeth. It is he who should apologise, not you. Now, tell me what he said.”

  Elizabeth stuttered a reply. “He said that he does not have the time or... or the strength to coddle me. He said he must have room to breathe if he is to recover and that my presence suffocates him.” Having confessed, she broke down entirely, weeping as though her heart were breaking.

  Olivia pulled her into her arms, patting her back sympathetically. “You poor child! I can only imagine the torment you suffer. Come, sit down.” Olivia led her toward a nearby table surrounded by chairs. Elizabeth sat down tiredly.

  “I shall step inside and ring for a maid. Then you and I shall share some tea and have a talk.”

  Olivia disappeared into the study and just as quickly returned, taking the chair beside Elizabeth and grasping one of her hands. “You are keeping your feelings inside again. That will not do. You must speak of your pain, or else it will destroy you.”

  “But there are expectations! I am the Mistress of Pemberley. I cannot be seen as weak or unstable.”

  “Believe me when I say that no one believes you are either. If anything, all of us, family and servant alike, admire your strength in dealing with my nephew. We marvel at how you have endured Fitzwilliam’s curtness without being unkind in return.”

  “I try to remember that he is sick and lashes out from frustration. The man I love would never be unkind on purpose. And, when I am most upset, I think of the baby.”

  “Elizabeth. I would never discourage you, but you do realise that the shock of Fitzwilliam’s injury could cause your courses to be late.”

  “They were late before he was injured. I am pregnant.” Elizabeth brought her hands to her heart. “I know it in here.”

  “Then it is settled,” Olivia said gently. “For, I, too, knew in my heart that I was expecting Arthur long before there was proof.

  “I do have doubts, though.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I fear my strength will fail, and I shall be overcome. More and more, I find myself longing to escape to Longbourn, to fall into Jane’s arms and to talk until I have no words left. Realistically, I know that if I did, my mother would make my life more miserable there than it is now.”

  “I had not thought of that! A trip could be the perfect solution.” Elizabeth’s brows knit in puzzlement. “A brief respite would do you a world of good. I am not speaking of returning to Longbourn,” Olivia added. “Go to London. Madeline can invite Jane to her
home without your mother becoming suspicious. In the bosom of your most beloved sister and the Gardiners, your strength will be renewed, I am certain.”

  For a moment, Elizabeth’s mind wandered in a mist of blissful memories. “I love Will so much. I cannot comprehend ever willingly parting from him. His trip to Chesterfield was torture, even before I learned of his injury. How can I leave him when he needs me?”

  “I appreciate how deeply you love him, Elizabeth, but Fitzwilliam has made it clear that he wants time apart. He will be well cared for. Joseph and I shall see to that. Perchance, if you are not here, he will realise how much he loves you.”

  Elizabeth sighed raggedly. “Or that he never loved me at all.” She shook her head as though trying to rid herself of a thought too cruel to contemplate. “I fear my mind is too muddled at present to think clearly. I cannot decide.”

  “I understand perfectly. Still, you must know that Joseph and Richard had an important discussion this morning regarding Fitzwilliam’s belligerence. And if Richard follows through on his proposal, your husband’s temper could go from bad to worse before it improves.”

  Just then a maid appeared in the balcony door. “Please bring us some chamomile tea, and if there are any of those lovely scones left that Mrs. Lantrip served this morning, bring some of those as well.”

  The maid curtseyed and disappeared as quickly as she had come.

  WILLIAM’S BEDROOM

  Entering his cousin’s bedroom, Richard was just as affected as he had been the evening before. It no longer resembled the manly retreat his cousin had employed to escape the cares of his station in the splendour of fine furnishings, good books and a comfortable bed. What furniture had not been removed entirely was now shoved against the walls. In addition, each tabletop held a tray. One contained a pot of tea and a few biscuits, but the majority held jars of cream, salves, herbal powders of every description and rolled bandages for use on William’s broken ribs. All of this, plus a discarded nightshirt and the pungent smell of an herbal salve, put Richard in mind of a visit he had made to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital a year past to console a comrade with a broken arm.