by AmyJ
“Forgive me. I was only thinking on a conversation I had with Jane today. Did you say something earlier?” Darcy replied in the negative, and inquired over the conversation, which Elizabeth easily summarized for him. As it came to a close, she turned to gauge her husband’s reaction when she said, “I think Mr.
Bingley’s behaviour in town has destroyed any regard she had for him.”
Darcy’s lips pursed tightly for a moment, and then he nodded. “For Bingley’s sake, I hope his persistence will have a favourable impression.” At his wife’s look of confusion he added, “Bingley was determined to do all he could to win Jane’s heart. It must be the reason he remains at Netherfield.”
The two fell into silence, not wishing to air their old argument.
After several minutes, Elizabeth asked, “How is Colonel Fitzwilliam? Mr.
Collins mentioned he would be coming downstairs soon.”
“Physically he is quite well.” He hesitated for a moment and then explained,
“Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock have decided now that I am married,
Richard should marry Anne.” He set down the brush, and much to Elizabeth’s
surprise, began separating her hair in sections to plait it. “It is a good match for Richard; he needs a wife with a fortune.”
“From your tone, it sounds like Richard does not look so favourably upon the match.”
Darcy began the meticulous motions required to knot her hair. “He has refused thus far, but I do not understand why. It is not as though he has any other prospects.” At his wife’s pointed look, he rolled his eyes. “I did not wish to marry Anne either, but I was not in need of fortune.”
Elizabeth smiled pertly up at him. “Perhaps Richard does have another prospect, and has simply not told you about her.”
Darcy raised a curious brow. “You mean your sister, or have you become one
of Richard’s confidantes?” Elizabeth blushed and shook her head.
After tying her hair neatly with a ribbon, Darcy took both of his wife’s hands, helped her to stand, and pulled her close to him. “Does our sister harbour any feelings towards Richard?”
To this, Elizabeth dropped her eyes to the ground.
“As I thought. Nor do I know Richard’s heart. So let this be the end of it. If there is an attachment, let them work it out for themselves.”
When Elizabeth nodded in agreement, he leaned down and kissed her soundly
on the lips. His hand stroked the length of her plait. When he reached its end, he lifted it to his lips, and inhaled its scent. “I believe I could get used to sharing a room,” he said huskily.
Elizabeth snaked her arms around her husband’s waist. “You make a very
excellent abigail,” she teased. “Wherever did you learn to plait hair?”
Darcy leaned his forehead against hers. “I was mother and father to Georgiana for many years. I had to learn many things.”
Elizabeth cupped his cheek with her hand. “You are the best of men,
Fitzwilliam Darcy.” She kissed his lips. “I believe I too could become rather accustomed to this.”
Darcy responded the only way a man desperately in love with his wife could.
Chapter Forty-One
Posted on: 2009-01-09
The next few days provided the area with some needed rain, as well as cooler temperatures. Darcy welcomed the rain as a matter of principle, but that was as far as his gratitude extended. The precipitation had relegated him to a small cottage with barely enough room for its inhabitants, and he was impatient for it to cease.
Elizabeth and Georgiana seemed to keep distracted easily enough, but without his library, billiard room, or even a nearby fencing club, Darcy prowled the cottage like a caged animal. He had already written to everyone he could think of: Lord Blakeslee, Bingley, Woodall, and some other friends, a few professors at Cambridge with whom he kept an acquaintance, and even some distant
Darcy relations that had sought out fortunes abroad. Now, his primary
diversion was sorting strands of silk for his wife and sister. How his friends would laugh at him if word ever got out!
Thankfully, on the third day, the rain ceased. Though the muddy roads made travel by carriage difficult, a single horse would have no problems. Darcy
could no longer bear the indoors, and when the sun hit the top of the trees, he took to the saddle.
A few hours later, exhausted, and completely covered in mud, he entered the cottage. “Good morning,” he sang to Elizabeth, who was assisting in putting the morning meal on the table.
After a mere glance at he him, she scolded, “Fitzwilliam!” Her lips formed a firm line, and her fists were planted firmly on her waist. “Do you realize how impossible it will be to clean those clothes?”
It was only then he took in the full consequences of his actions. He looked down at his mud spattered breeches and jacket, and then uneasily rubbed his neck. “I… uh… suppose I had not thought that far.”
With a heavy sigh and her head wagging, she said, “I shall have to pay the
maid at the inn double. I do hope you at least enjoyed yourself.”
Darcy chuckled. “I did.” He then reached for Elizabeth’s arm, and she deftly avoided him.
“Not until you are cleaned!” she screeched. “I will not have you ruin my
morning dress as well!”
Darcy laughed merrily and left to change.
The next four and twenty hours were void of any rain, and the summer sun
dried the roads of their puddles. So the following day, normal activity for the Darcys resumed. After a hearty morning meal, Georgiana accompanied her
brother to Rosings, while Elizabeth visited Hunsford.
At the beginning of her visit, she was forced to listen to Mr. Collins expound on how good the rain would be for his vegetable garden, though he was
grateful it had stopped in time for the dinner at Rosings. Mention of the grand house then led him to wax eloquent on what a divine hostess his patroness was for several more minutes.
Finally, Mr. Collins took his leave, in favour of meeting with one of his
parishioners who was in need of some Christian guidance. Elizabeth took the opportunity to suggest a ramble through the grove, to which Jane quickly
assented. Charlotte declared she could not accompany them, and Maria, still afraid of muddying her frock, chose to attend to some correspondence. So, the two sisters donned bonnets and gloves and made their way outside.
“So tell me, dear sister,” Elizabeth began as soon as they were out of earshot of the house, “how did you enjoy your dinner at Rosings? Were the boiled
potatoes as fine as they are at Longbourn?” The two girls laughed.
“I am sorry you could not be there, Lizzy.”
“It matters not. I quite enjoy my small, intimate dinners with Fitzwilliam and Georgiana.”
Jane smiled, but it did not touch her eyes. “I am pleased to see you so happily situated. I was concerned when you first told me of your engagement, but
Col...” she paused. “I am just very happy for you.”
Elizabeth had discerned something was amiss when she arrived at Hunsford
that morning. Jane’s reluctance to mention Colonel Fitzwilliam by name clued Elizabeth in to the nature of her sister’s malcontent. “So not everything went well while you are at Rosings.” The tone was a mixture of inquiry and fact.
“Everything was fine, Lizzy.” Jane looked away for a moment, and then drew
herself up again. Trying to appear cheerful, she said, “It was very good to see Mr. Fitzwilliam so well recovered.”
Elizabeth nodded, wishing her sister’s bonnet did not hide her face so well.
“Yes, we are all quite thankful for that. I have been told he will be walking again soon.”
“Is it certain he will marry his cousin?” Jane uncharacteristically blurted out.
Elizabeth guided them to a nearby bench, where they sto
pped. Jane was
becoming emotional, and Elizabeth did not wish her to trip or turn her ankle.
“Fitzwilliam does not believe so,” Elizabeth replied gently, “but nothing has been said definitively. He believes Mr. Fitzwilliam to be waiting until he is well enough to travel before informing his aunt and father. I have already sent ahead to Arryndale and Pemberley to have a room made ready for him.”
Jane gasped. “His family would not…”
“No, I do not think Lord Matlock would disinherit him.” Elizabeth took her
sister’s hand and squeezed it for reassurance. “It may, however, be
uncomfortable living under the same roof for a bit.”
An uneasy silence fell between them as Elizabeth considered her next words.
She had promised her husband not to meddle, but she could not so easily
dismiss Jane’s distress. Deciding that it was not interfering to confirm her suspicions over where her sister’s heart tended, she asked, “Jane, do you have feelings for Mr. Fitzwilliam?”
A tear trickled down Jane’s cheek. “It does not matter,” she whispered. Then, taking Elizabeth by surprise, Jane buried her face in her shoulder and began to cry. “Oh, Lizzy. I would not mind so much, if only he would tell me he does not love me. But I saw such a look in his eye… Maybe I was mistaken again?”
She pulled back only long enough to glance at Elizabeth, and then returned to her previous position. “I wish…”
Elizabeth was just about to say something soothing, when Jane suddenly sat up and dried her cheeks. “Forgive me, Lizzy. I shall be fine.” She forced a smile and took a few deep breaths to compose herself. “Will you do something for
me, Lizzy?”
“Of course, dearest.” Elizabeth replied, unsure how to react to such a display from her most un-perturbable sister. It was obvious Jane was hurting, but at the same time was trying to be strong and do what was expected of her. Elizabeth was left unsure if she should encourage Jane to speak her mind, or allow her to keep up the façade of serenity. The decision was made for her when Jane said,
“When his engagement is decided with certainty, will you tell me right away? I do not wish to be left wondering.”
Elizabeth embraced her sister tightly. “Of course.” For a moment the two were silent, but Elizabeth’s curiosity and concern got the better of her. “Does Mr.
Fitzwilliam know of your feelings?”
“There has been no opportunity to discuss it.” Jane said just above whisper.
“There may not be time.”
Elizabeth nodded, thinking If only… Then, remembering her promise to her husband, pushed those thoughts aside.
The two rose from the bench and wandered a little while longer in the grove, speaking on less emotional topics. Jane’s spirits had lifted slightly, and when she was equal to being in Charlotte and Maria’s company again, they returned to the house.
The following day, Elizabeth once again drove to Hunsford. When she arrived she was informed that the women and had gone out on some errands, but
would return shortly.
Not wishing to return to the cottage so quickly, she took advantage of her
location. It had been weeks since she had been able to take a long, meandering stroll. While in London, she and Darcy had often visited Hyde Park and the
Gardens. Since her arrival in Kent, her exercise had been much more limited.
The inn and cottage were located on a main road, making a lone female easy
pickings for gypsies or any ill intentioned man.
That, coupled with newness of area, had made Darcy uneasy, and Elizabeth had promised him not to go walking alone. The grove that ran between Hunsford
and Rosings, however, was perfectly safe.
Elizabeth strolled leisurely, taking note of the beautifully groomed paths, and humming to herself. Believing herself to be quite alone, she was startled when she looked up and saw her husband. “Fitzwilliam!” she exclaimed, her eyes
aglow.
“I have been walking in the grove for some time.” Darcy said with a smile that lit his entire being. He pulled a small bouquet of wild flowers from behind his back and presented them to her.
Elizabeth squealed in delight, and buried her nose in the blossoms. “Where
ever did you find these?”
Darcy wrapped his arms around his wife. “That is my little secret.” He leaned down and captured her lips. Cognizant of their public location, the kiss lasted but a moment. After placing another brief kiss on her forehead, he stepped back and proffered his arm. Together, the two followed the path talking and laughing with one another.
“I shall be glad to return to Pemberley.” Elizabeth commented. “I have missed walking about.”
“Richard is fully on the mend, so I see no reason why we can not leave, though I had thought you wished to visit with Jane.”
Elizabeth laid her head affectionately against her husband’s arm. “It is so very good to see her, but we need not remain much longer.”
Darcy covered her hand with his. “Then shall we say in a week’s time? I would like to give Richard a little more time to decide where he intends to reside.”
“I shall write Mrs. Reynolds to have the house prepared for us.” She looked up at Darcy. “How did you know to find me here?”
“The doctor was seeing Richard, and I did not wish to remain in the house with my uncle and aunt,” Darcy replied easily, evading the question. He directed her behind a large oak off the path. After planting a kiss on her cheek, he
whispered softly in her ear, “Are you disappointed?”
Elizabeth’s breath stuck in her throat, and all she could do was shake her head.
The next moment, their lips were passionately engaged else-wise. “I love you,”
Elizabeth breathed, when they broke apart.
Darcy rested his forehead against hers and murmured, “I love you too, my
Beth.”
Though full of feeling, their interlude was short, and before long they were once again walking along the path. As they neared the gated entrance to the grove, they stopped once again, neither wishing to quit each other’s company.
However, knowing their absence would soon be noticed by the residents of
both Hunsford and Rosings, they kissed briefly and parted ways.
Elizabeth returned to Hunsford, where Jane, Charlotte, and Maria were already having tea. She was eagerly invited to join them.
“A parishioner’s dog just had puppies, and we wished to see them,” Charlotte said, explaining their earlier absence.
“They were so small and precious,” Jane cooed. “Mrs. Evans said they make
ideal house dogs, but I do not think our father would approve.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I think you are quite right, Jane. Though if it were a male dog, he might not feel so outnumbered.” To this, they all laughed.
Elizabeth watched Jane, and to her dismay, despite her sister’s attempts, she could see a general sadness about her. “So Charlotte, will you and Mr. Collins
be obtaining one of those fine creatures?” she asked, turning her attention back to her hostess.
Charlotte quickly shook her head. “No. Lady Catherine does not approve of
animals within the house. She believes all creatures carry disease, and with Miss de Bourgh’s health...”
“Then I do hope the Prince Regent does not decide to take up hunting in the area.” Elizabeth commented wryly. “I have heard he has several hounds that
follow him throughout St. James.”
“Lizzy!” Jane admonished.
“I am only pointing out the Prince Regent would likely be loath to leave his dogs in the stables while he visited Rosings.”
“I do not think father would mind if I had one.” Maria remarked.
To this, Charlotte immediately objected, stating any number of excuses,
including her belief that the pups were too young to be tak
en from their mother just yet.
The ladies chatted a while longer, and when they could think of little else to say, they took up some sewing. Though Elizabeth had brought none of her
own, Charlotte had what appeared to be two months’ worth.
“There is no shortage of need.” Charlotte explained sheepishly.
Elizabeth shrugged, and carefully saw to the task she had been given. Every once in a while, one of the ladies would pause to relieve an aching back or arm, refresh a teacup, or interject a comment or two.
Elizabeth could not help but pay special attention to her sister, especially when Maria made an off-hand comment about Anne de Bourgh and her marriage to
Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Jane was making a valiant effort, but Elizabeth, knowing her sister’s moods well, could almost see the unshed tears. At that moment, Elizabeth knew she had to do something; she determined to speak with her husband on the matter.
The following morning, Elizabeth remained at Brandyhatch. The headache that had sent her to bed early last night had left her feeling rather lethargic. Darcy was about to summon a doctor, but Elizabeth convinced him she required
nothing more than rest and a quiet morning. To further ease Darcy’s concerns, Georgiana had agreed to stay with her, and between the two ladies, they had managed to push Darcy out the door.
Grudgingly, he arrived at Rosings, determined not to stay a moment longer
than necessary. He was almost to Richard’s room when he heard, “Darcy, I
would speak with you a moment.”
He stiffened, but was relieved to see Lord Fitzwilliam approaching. Marvelling at how much Stephen could resemble the earl, he wordlessly followed his
cousin into a sitting room. After offering Darcy a glass a wine, the viscount began pacing in front of the unlit hearth.
Darcy settled into a nearby chair, watching his cousin with no little amount of curiosity.
Suddenly, Stephen turned to him and blurted out, “Is she worth it?”
Darcy choked on a droplet of wine that caught at the back of throat by his
cousin’s abrupt question. “Worth it? To whom are you referring?”
“Your wife,” Stephen said, exasperated, as if Darcy should have been able to read his mind.