“Do you have any idea how similar you two are? How similar you are to the Queen of Hubris? Arrogant and stubborn, the both of you. I myself am the most good-natured of men, and yet I remain ruggedly handsome and charismatic. I truly believe it impossible that I could be related to either one of you. I must have been dropped at the door by some Scottish circus group.”
Chapter 3
Elizabeth walked briskly around the house, clasping her cape tightly at her neck and her hood close around her face. She reflected on what she considered her Embarrassing Predicament. Or was it? First and foremost, she was a realist and a sensible country girl. All right, she began to shiver with the cold. Just of what am I ashamed? I’m no different than any other young woman, am I?
No, Elizabeth, you are not.
We are married; we want children, do we not?
Yes, most emphatically you are and you do! Honestly, this is ridiculous. Eventually the embarrassment of marital relations will fade, if only through the sheer bliss of repetition. Finding herself vigorously nodding in agreement, she could not help a bit of giggle and blush. She then forced herself to regain her composure. And, the embarrassment may very well fade quicker if you do not make such a childish spectacle of yourself, bringing more attention to it than you already have. She felt her backbone stiffen with her resolve— or perhaps it is just freezing into place, she mused as she gazed longingly up at the massive back of the main estate house with the windows steaming from the heat within, smoke billowing from its many chimneys.
She began to walk rapidly. Besides, it is bloody cold out here, and that is surely curing me of my “flutters and spasms!” She laughed out loud with that common quote of her mother’s, causing the vaporous air of amusement to flutter about her. In fact it is curing me much quicker than delicate female modesty would care to admit. The rapid walk soon became a run. She entered the house through the closest door available, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light, and realized she was in the servants’ hallway.
Surprised maids and footmen jumped back as she passed, giving her quick bows and curtseys, grabbing for their coats, straightening skirts, spitting out half-smoked cheroots and hiding them beneath their boots. Pushing her hood farther back on her head, she smiled and nodded hello, all the time humiliated by the reality that she had no idea where she was or how to get out.
Finally someone thought to alert Mrs. Reynolds, who hurried toward her. “Mrs. Darcy, is there something with which I can help you?”
Lizzy shook her head and smiled sheepishly. “I am so sorry to disturb you all, but I seem to have entered a strange door, and now fear I am lost.”
“I understand perfectly.” Mrs. Reynolds gave a ready nod. “Please allow me to show you the way upstairs.” Thankful for her rescue, Lizzy followed the housekeeper through the winding corridors of underground kitchens and bedrooms, linen rooms, pantries, and servants’ parlors and sitting room.
“It’s much like a little city down here,” Lizzy marveled as they walked past dozens of servants and room after windowed room where she could observe the work being done. She saw women washing and ironing, polishing this, repairing that. “I had no idea there were this many servants at Pemberley!” She felt like an intruder in their domain.
“We really have a much smaller regular staff than most of the great estates. Many of these young people are actually from our tenant families. They train here for future work in other great houses. The added money they earn here helps the families, and a recommendation from Pemberley, as you can imagine, is a tremendous asset. I don’t think we’ve ever had anyone trained here who did not go on to a very respectable position.”
Humbled by the realization that so many depended on her husband for their very existence, Elizabeth felt the pride and love she already had for him swell. He had taken command of all this from such a young age, increasing his holdings and wealth to become one of the most successful landowners in the country. He was amazing and wonderful, and she decided she would kiss him senseless as soon as she was able. He has all this to worry about, and I make a ninny of myself, blushing at anyone who cares to look at me, causing him more problems. Enough, Elizabeth, it is time to grow up.
In the meantime, Mrs. Reynolds had been very proud to finally exhibit the servants’ hall to the new mistress, stopping at the doorway to look back at the hustle and bustle that hummed along underneath the main house. Elizabeth took the woman’s hand in hers and gave it an appreciative squeeze. “I am all amazement at this.” Mrs. Reynolds, a woman who prided herself on seldom betraying her feelings to Mr. Darcy, blushed with happiness.
As they emerged into the light of the first-floor landing, she could see that they were right outside the grand library. “I believe Colonel Fitzwilliam is still in with the master. Would you like me to show you in to them?”
“Yes, please, and thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. I hope I have not inconvenienced the household too much with my wanderings.”
“Not at all, madam, it was an honor. Besides, this is a huge house, one of the largest in the country. It takes a long while to get accustomed.”
They walked toward the library, and Mrs. Reynolds, knocking softly, opened it for her. Darcy beamed when he saw her and stood. “Elizabeth, I’m so glad you decided to join us!”
Fitzwilliam also stood as Lizzy rushed into the room, watching as she melted into the arms of her loving husband. He regarded them both fondly, seeing the obviously deep affection between them the very moment the other was within view. You would think they had been apart for a month and not twenty minutes. Well, he reflected a bit wistfully , I might not envy you Pemberley, my dear cousin, but this type of joy I do envy you.
***
Laughing, she gazed up into Darcy’s face. “Did you have time to miss me at all?”
“And you are…? Of course, little goose. I counted each second.” He smiled as he wrapped her within his arms. “Elizabeth, we have a trespasser.”
She turned her head and looked over at Fitzwilliam.
“You look lovely, Cousin,” he said sincerely.
Her eyes were beginning to moisten. “It’s so nice to hear you call me Cousin.” She walked quickly to him, her hands extended in greeting. Waggling his eyebrows, he ignored her hands to give her one of his great hugs.
“May I be the first non-spousal family member to kiss the bride?”
Darcy nodded, and Elizabeth beamed up at Fitzwilliam once again, offering her cheek for the kissing.
“Well, the married state certainly does agree with you, Elizabeth! You are positively glowing.” It was an emphatic statement of truth from Fitzwilliam. She did look lovelier, more alive than he remembered. “You look gorgeous and nearly as smug as your husband.” Darcy winced, thinking Lizzy would be mortified at the allusion. He was surprised and greatly relieved to see her in good spirits at her new cousin’s words.
“I highly recommend marriage, Colonel.” She took her place in the chair next to his, still holding tightly to his hand. “In fact, I have two unmarried sisters ready and eager for the altar.” She lowered her voice dramatically. “Beware.”
Their discussion was very animated, like two dear old friends meeting again after a long separation. Darcy sat back contentedly to watch, remembering the first time the two had met, several years before. Lizzy was visiting her friend Charlotte and Charlotte’s new husband, the Reverend Collins, vicar on the estate of the formidable Lady Catherine, while Darcy and Fitzwilliam were spending their annual Easter visit with their aunt.
At that visit to Rosings, when Lizzy and Richard would talk and laugh with each other, he remained aloof from them, envying as always his cousin’s easy charm, his way with words and strangers. He had felt unwanted and alone, his only consolation being the certainty that if Richard considered marriage at all, it would need to be an heiress, and Lizzy had been far from that. Fitzwilliam could not and would not encourage any serious tendre within himself for Elizabeth, even though it was obvious he was utterly charmed by h
er.
Now, assured of the love of his wife, Darcy could watch two of the people he treasured most in the world enjoy each other’s company and not feel excluded from their joy.
***
“Scotland and Wales were absolutely wonderful.” Lizzy’s face was animated. “I had never been beyond my own little garden before, except when lost in a book. What a revelation!”
“I have always thought so, but it’s much more exciting to see it fresh through the eyes of another.” He began reciting a list of his favorite haunts, some having been visited by the Darcys and others not, the surprise and slight disappointment of which showing clearly on her face.
“William, how stupid I am. How could we have missed Hadrian’s Wall?!” she gasped. Darcy winced at the name she had called him.
“William?” Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows rose slowly as he looked at Darcy. Ah, but this was going to be a great source of sport.
Darcy shot an irritated glance off to the side before answering. He could sense his cousin’s internal laughter. “Elizabeth, we did see Hadrian’s Wall, and you were annoyed at the obstruction to your daily walk. If you remember, the evening before we had indulged a little too much in champagne, and we were both suffering the effects of it.”
“William?” Fitzwilliam repeated, nasally this time, nearly licking his lips in delight.
“Yes, Fitz, now let’s get beyond it… Apparently Elizabeth felt having two Fitzwilliams in the family was too confusing.”
Richard beamed with pride at causing any sort of discomfort for his cousin. “Well, as it turns out, you are in grand company, Elizabeth. It also confuses Aunt Catherine, especially when she’s in her cups.” He laughed at Lizzy’s shocked hoot of surprise.
“Fitzwilliam is such a very formal sort of Christian name, isn’t it? It is much easier for me to just say William. Actually, I also was hoping to avoid the confusion I have when you both begin yelling ‘Fitz’ at each other.” Lizzy tried to school her face into a serious expression, but her mouth twitched at the sides.
“I could not agree more, dear Cousin.” Fitzwilliam attempted his own serious demeanor as he puffed on his pipe. “I’ve always felt Fitzwilliam an excellent surname but rather pompous for a first name. However, it could have been worse—much worse.” Fitzwilliam was rewarded with the expected groan from Darcy.
“You see, the gossip in the family is that his father could have married Lady Diana de Carsie. Apparently, at one time, the toddler Uncle George and the infant Lady Diana were quite an item within the nursery set.” He took another puff on his pipe. “And then, of course, our boy here would have been the one and only DeCarsie Darcy.”
Lizzy gave way to her laughter, and even Darcy was finding it difficult to retain his somber, disapproving countenance. He shook his head at his wife. “You only encourage him, Elizabeth, and it takes precious little to do that.”
***
At dinner, Fitzwilliam caught them up to date on all the gossip within the family, and with stories of the tenants at his father’s estate in Somerton, many of them childhood friends now grown men with families of their own, having taken over the family farms. He had been on extended leave from the military after Waterloo, traveling the months that followed, visiting his father, aunt, and uncles. Curiosity pecked at Elizabeth until she brought up the subject of Aunt Catherine, anxious to know if she was still as upset with them as she had been before the wedding.
“Aunt Catherine is in no better humor now, I’m afraid. No. Quite the contrary, as it happens. I was telling Darcy earlier that both your names evoke a tirade of abuse and the most fanciful accusations. Evidently, in her twisted mind, it was your use of feminine wiles, Elizabeth, that caused mankind’s expulsion from the Garden of Eden, and then, of course, Darcy’s arrogance initiated the Flood.”
Darcy’s hand suddenly rammed angrily into a bowl of fruit and grasped an innocent, unsuspecting orange. “Enough. The woman is demented. Our marriage is simply something to which she must become adjusted. She insulted Elizabeth and her family, and in so doing, she insulted me.” With an expression as black as pitch, Darcy commenced to vivisecting the orange. By the time he finished with said orange, it was completely dead, thoroughly dead, with no semblance remaining of its prior orange existence.
“That’s all well and good for you to say, old man, but now she’s so desperate that she has turned to me for management advice and help. I mean, really! She would have a better chance shooting an arrow into the ocean and impaling a carp than my comprehending all that gibberish.” As he spoke, he snatched the knife from Darcy’s clenched fist. “Come, Cousin, you know she loves you best. You were always her golden child, the second coming, her beau bebe garçon.”
Elizabeth sadly watched her husband as months of emotional breakthroughs and insights shattered like so much glass. He became more withdrawn, more aloof by the second, his face a cold mask of sobriety.
Suddenly, Darcy threw his napkin upon the table and stood. “Shall we go into the family salon for some brandy and cakes? I believe those chairs will be much more comfortable for Elizabeth than these hard ones.”
“I am in no discomfort here, William.” Elizabeth’s voice was very soft as she and Darcy shared a tense glance.
“Come on, Cousin, can’t you thaw a little? Seriously, Catherine is having real concerns with those tenants in the…” The look in Darcy’s eyes told him he needn’t finish.
“Richard, this is the last time I wish to talk about Lady Catherine. She has chosen her course, and I have chosen mine. Now let us go into the parlor and have no more discussion about it.” Darcy quickly left the room.
Elizabeth looked at Fitzwilliam in amazement. “I had hoped that the proud Mr. Darcy I met at Netherfield Hall had mellowed a bit. It appears, however, that we have regressed.”
“Damnation—excuse me, Elizabeth—you know, for both their sakes, I hope they find common ground soon,” he said gently. “This is hurting them.”
Fitzwilliam rose as the footman pulled back Elizabeth’s chair. “You know as well as I how stubborn he can be,” Elizabeth said. “It would appear that any attempt at reconciliation may well have to generate from Lady Catherine herself.”
“And from whom do you think he learned this damnable Fitzwilliam pride and stubbornness?” Richard smiled sadly and gave Elizabeth his arm as they followed Darcy into the parlor.
Chapter 4
The end of the year came quickly, with private balls, public assemblies, house parties, and concerts. Elizabeth’s sister Jane and her husband, Charles Bingley, one of Darcy’s closest friends, arrived at Pemberley a month before Christmas, followed two weeks later by Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and Kitty and Mary, the remainder of Elizabeth’s family. It was the first real opportunity for Darcy to socialize with Mr. Bennet, a gentleman for whom he discovered he had a great deal of empathy, especially after experiencing the constant attentions and fawning of Mrs. Bennet.
As rude and insulting as she had been to Darcy before his marriage to her daughter, she was now the complete reverse, hanging on his every word. (Reason and Mrs. Bennet never resided in the same location for very long.) She followed him constantly, all worshipful eyes and servile admiration. She murmured, she whispered, she gasped.
“See how he stands? A spine like a pitchfork, straight and true. He’s like a Roman statue, I’m sure: a true aristocrat!”
“Look how he butters his toast. Watch and learn!” she would remonstrate in all seriousness. “Watch and learn!”
Of course everyone had their particular favorite of her observations. Jane’s was, “You can always tell a gentleman’s character by how he eats his chicken.”
Charles’s was, “See how large his feet are? You know what that indicates, do you not?” Charles nearly choked at the dinner table the night that remark was made and glanced toward a red-faced Darcy.
When Lizzy’s mother nodded to one and all and explained, “The mark of a great mind,” they both exhaled loudly with relief.
&nb
sp; When he sat to read, she would sit as near him as possible, somewhere behind, always in the great man’s shadow, near enough to worship, not near enough to intrude. If he looked up, she was at his side in a moment, inquiring if he needed anything—tea, wine, pillow, quill, ink—and she very shrilly castigated Elizabeth if she did not exhibit the same zeal in anticipating his wants.
He remembered how odd he had found Mr. Bennet’s behavior the first time he had sought him out at Longbourn when asking for Lizzy’s hand. The man could evaporate into thin air, would disappear into his library, sometimes walking off in the very midst of a conversation. Darcy now thoroughly shared his father-in-law’s literary fixation. That his own Pemberley library would be his only escape was obvious, and that had been within the first few minutes.
In fact, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet were embarrassed to find they had both scrambled to the library independently of each other the second night. They competed fiercely for first hand on the knob then slipped inside, waiting in the dark for several moments before lighting the candles. Charles Bingley, as always trying to be kindhearted, charming, and obliging, attempted to step up as host in Darcy’s absence, only to end up with the other men a mere half hour later.
It was still, though, a very pleasant family time, a precious and happy holiday marred only by the two or three angry chair-throwing free-for-alls most families experience during this holiest of seasons. On Boxing Day, Jane and Charles announced their expectancy to squeals and flutters and spasms. Sisterly confidences were exchanged and unlooked-for motherly advice loudly dispensed. Darcy and Bingley rode to freedom almost daily, and Mr. Bennet napped whenever possible. Days began to drag into weeks that felt like months, and finally, with a sigh of relief, the Darcys waved good-bye to her sisters and parents and settled into what would become a fateful new year.
It was the beginning of the year of our Lord, 1817. Winter had come to Pemberley.
Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer Page 3