Darcy replied sharply, “I want nothing of that sort of love. Nothing that would make me so selfish as to forget every other connection and concern. I have sworn never to fall in love.”
“That is awful!” Elizabeth felt hurt for him.
“No. It is sensible.” He smiled sourly.
“Don’t let your father’s memory hurt you that way — don’t. He was selfish, but love doesn’t need to be. Don’t close yourself away. You should determine that you will fall in love, but that should you lose her, you will grieve and think of the happy times, and live a happy life for her sake.”
“Is it that simple? No, I think deep love, real love, is a disease. One I shall protect myself from.”
“Surely you intend to marry. What then? Will you not love your wife?”
Darcy looked at her with surprise. “That is hardly the purpose of marriage. Marriage is to enhance the status and connections of your family. You should know that.”
“Yes, yes. But I do not think women with good dowries and connections are unlovable as a group. Oh, no matter what — do not marry without affection.”
Darcy shrugged. “I shall feel affection. It is easy to feel affection. But I also feel affection for all my friends, for you, for my horse, for—”
Elizabeth giggled involuntarily, half breaking their tension.
Darcy blushed. “I did not mean to say that. A completely inapt comparison. But affection is not love. I would never marry without affection, but I would never marry with love. If I were in love…" Darcy stuttered to a stop and looked at Elizabeth with the bleakness back in his eyes. “I am afraid — I am too much like my father. If I fell in love, I…I would feel too strongly.”
Elizabeth felt there were tears pricking at her eyes.
“Do not look at me that way. I am happy.”
“I hurt for you. I cannot help it, and you cannot stop me.” Words flowed through Elizabeth. “You asked me what was on my mind, when I sat against the wall of the assembly ball. Do you still wish to know?"
Darcy nodded, his face intent and serious. Elizabeth had never told this to anyone but Jane.
“I — it really is embarrassing — I pretend everything is perfect."
Darcy didn’t say anything, but his blue eyes were attentive.
With a blush Elizabeth hurried on, “It began a few months after Mama ran out of money. I — I didn’t want to be angry or scared anymore. So I spent an hour imagining everything was perfect — Papa never died, we still lived at Longbourn, Mama was clever and kind. And — I realized things were not very bad, Mama was not so horrible, and whenever something upsets me I sit down and imagine things are perfect, the way they should be.”
She became embarrassed and knew it sounded completely silly and absurd. But it made her happy. She looked down. Darcy didn’t say anything. His eyes were on her, glowing with tenderness. She smiled at him and shrugged. “So do you think I am silly and stupid?”
“Never.”
“It is not that I do not face the world the way it is. I know we are penniless dependents, and that Lydia did not marry a gentleman, and that Mama is… Well that she is who she is. But I am always able to go somewhere else for a half hour, and so nothing makes me unhappy.”
He kept smiling at her. Elizabeth felt a happy glow encompass her whole body. A feeling of lightness. “I have only told Jane. Not even Charlotte or Aunt Gardiner.”
“Thank you for trusting me.”
Elizabeth burst with passion. “So you see, happiness is a choice. You always can make yourself happy. Do not be too scared to fall in love.”
“Maybe.” There was awkwardness in his manner. “Come,” Darcy’s voice was gruff, “we’ve been away from the party for too long.”
Chapter 11
Darcy’s fantasies had changed. He used to imagine Elizabeth naked in his bed, his body pressed against hers. Now he felt guilty if he did so. She was too much a friend, too much a person, too much someone important to him to imagine her that way without her willingness.
He wanted to share the pleasures of the bedroom with her. He wanted her to be there, smiling and happy. But he couldn’t imagine her naked until she chose to let him see her that way.
Instead he remembered how she clutched his hand in sympathy for his father’s death.
Nothing had ever felt like this before. Darcy had felt tenderness for a woman before. It was why he could never keep more than one mistress at a time, like his uncle would. He would feel guilty. But it was so much more now that he felt. If she were wealthy and had decent connections, he would flee, because he would fall in love with her and want to marry her.
The inequality kept him safe. She was too beneath him, he would be the benefactor, and she would be someone he cared for.
Something changed that night when they examined her father’s books together in Elizabeth’s childhood haunt. Until then he had not believed that she would accept an offer of protection from him. But something in her words. He believed she had divined his desires, or maybe had formed her own. There was a new undertone of intimacy and meaning.
She was still hesitant though. He must let her become accustomed to the idea and to him.
Whenever Darcy had a free moment, sitting by the window in his room, or next to the fireplace in the library, he thought about Elizabeth. He imagined them together. Darcy planned to install her in a pretty two story stone cottage on the outskirts of the estate. They could have so many conversations and walks together. If Lord Matlock could introduce Georgiana to his mistress, he could introduce his sister to Elizabeth. They would be friends.
He so looked forward to having her so close always.
One day early in November, Darcy spent the morning shooting with Bingley. Early in the afternoon he took a long walk around Netherfield. That evening Bingley’s party was to dine with a family who lived on the opposite side of Netherfield from Meryton, and Darcy was not looking forward to it. They were to miss a party where he could have seen Elizabeth. Halfway through his walk, he saw two women walking arm and arm in the distance and realized one of them was Elizabeth, and the other was heavy with child.
“Hallo, Miss Elizabeth. What do you do so far out from Meryton?”
Though she was taller than Elizabeth, Darcy realized the other woman looked surprisingly young for a mother. She had a tilt in her eyes and a grin that was similar to Elizabeth’s. Elizabeth blushed, and her face was turned a little away from both of them.
As he hurried up, Darcy bowed and said, “Would you introduce your friend to me?”
Even before she spoke, Darcy realized this was the sister who had famously married a blacksmith. Elizabeth shrugged and with a red face said, “Mr. Darcy, this is my sister, Mrs. Lydia Brown. Lydia, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”
The girl giggled as she curtsied awkwardly. “My, you are even taller up close. I am quite near the tallest girl I know, but you tower above me as well. My Tom is not nearly so tall as you, but he is brawnier.”
Darcy quirked an eyebrow. He glanced at Elizabeth expecting her to meet his look, but instead she studied the ground.
Of course. He hated it when friends met Lady Catherine, and this must be worse.
Instinctively, Darcy stepped between the women and took an arm from each of them. He flashed Lydia his strongest smile. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Brown. I consider your sister a dear friend, and hope we might be friends as well.”
Darcy meant it too.
Social distinctions must be maintained; he was her superior and would not forget it. But friendship didn’t mean equality. It meant good will and a sincere concern for the other’s welfare. She was Elizabeth’s sister and Darcy was prepared to think well of Lydia.
Lydia giggled. “That is a pretty smile, Mr. Darcy. Very pretty.”
Pretty was not his preferred word. But at least Elizabeth’s sister approved of him. Darcy smiled at Lydia again. “I have put great effort into that smile. It is an accomplishment
I am excessively proud of.”
Elizabeth giggled as Lydia replied, “You did! I thought only woman practiced their smiles.”
“You ought” — Elizabeth’s giggles stopped her from speaking — “you ought to tell her the story of how you perfected it.”
Darcy grinned, pleased that Elizabeth’s embarrassment had faded. “Nay. And you shall not share it either — I told you that tale in the strictest confidence.”
“La! You need not tell me. I’m sure you used a mirror.”
“He did not — the real story is more delightful by far.”
Darcy looked at Elizabeth, and she impishly grinned back. “I am at liberty to reveal what the story was not.”
“You make it sound like a great joke. I promise you, Mr. Darcy, I won’t go and tell everyone, it will be ever so much more fun to hint about it like Lizzy is.”
“I thank you kindly for the promise, but I fear as the tale involves another gentleman—”
“Oh! You practiced with your brother like I did with Kitty.”
Darcy blushed. “My cousin — I have no brother.”
Lydia’s eyes lit up with an unholy eagerness. “Did you also practice kissing together? Me and Kitty did.”
Darcy choked and a little squeak emitted from his throat. Which part should he be more shocked by?
Lydia’s voice was a little hollow when she said. “I suppose not. Oh, well.”
Darcy glanced to the other side. Elizabeth stared open mouthed at her sister. Darcy jostled her with his elbow and as soon as she glanced at him her face went rose red. “I…I had no…idea.”
Recovering his equilibrium Darcy said urbanely, “From your surprise I take it you and Miss Jane never…”
The image popped into Darcy’s mind and he found it weirdly arousing. Definitely something to not think about.
Elizabeth sharply looked at him. And while she blushed as hard as before, she looked less uncomfortable. “Shocking! Shocking, horrid suggestion.” She pushed Darcy hard in the arm.
“La! You and Jane never did? Does that mean you also never—”
Elizabeth spoke fast to interrupt Lydia. “I now understand why everyone thought you were a poor influence on Kitty.”
The other girl laughed. “You are so prudish. Have I shocked you, Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes, but it does not surprise me that curiosity would cause you to experiment. I shall never think of girls’ schools the same again. You and Miss Kitty can hardly be the only ones.”
Elizabeth’s voice was high. “What! Surely they don’t—”
“Miss Elizabeth. You are well read and have a vivid imagination.”
Elizabeth blushed even redder. Darcy grinned at her.
Lydia said, “I was determined not to like you, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy has said you’re a friend, but I do not approve of quality. People like you and my uncle always expect everyone to bow and scrape all the time. Well, even if you have a nice smile I will not. We have some pride. I may not be rich and fancy like Mr. Phillips or you, but we keep a maid and a neat house.”
Darcy stared at her. Being compared to Mr. Phillips shocked him almost as much as the suggestion he may have practiced kissing with Richard. “I am nothing like your uncle."
Lydia was somewhat taken aback by his sharp tone, and Elizabeth started laughing and laughing.
“Mr. Darcy — hahahaha — he, he doesn’t, hahahaha, he thinks himself far too lordly to take a comparison to a country attorney kindly.”
“He ain’t a Lord. He’s just a Mister. I know that. I’d respect him if he were a Lord.”
Elizabeth kept laughing. Tears were actually forming on the edge of her eyes. He grinned, unable to resist Elizabeth’s amusement, even if it was at his own expense. He had teased her just a minute before anyways.
“My uncle and cousin are Lords.”
Lydia’s eyes widened. “Oh. That’s nearly Lord. Is this the cousin you practiced that pretty smile of yours with?”
“In a manner. Lord Derwent had me smile at his brother while he studied the effect and gave advice.”
Lydia giggled.
They had walked up to a house in the village a quarter-mile from Netherfield, and Lydia pulled open the door. “Mr. Darcy, will you come in and take tea with me and Lizzy?”
Darcy bowed. “I would be delighted.”
The house was a solidly built timber-framed structure. It was a clean, thoroughly aired house. There was a coal stove and pipe chimney in the front room. Lydia led them through one of the doors to a tiny parlor with a flower-patterned wallpaper and several old but clean sofas and solid wooden chairs. The pregnant girl began to heavily bend down to light the fire, but Elizabeth stopped Lydia with a hand on her shoulder and did it herself, her hands moving in quick efficient gestures to strike the match and stir the coals.
Lydia shouted from the door. “Lucy!”
A maid with a smudged face who looked to be almost as young as the mistress entered the room. Her cotton apron was dirty, and her hair askew. Lydia ordered her to bring out the china set. Once the girl left Lydia set the water on the stove to heat.
Smithing was a skilled trade, and it was often a profitable occupation. While she was no longer a member of the gentry, it did not look like Lydia’s situation was very bad. Darcy had often visited the house of tenants and craftsmen on his lands, and this house looked prosperous. At a guess, Mr. Brown’s income was far over a hundred pounds per annum. By the standards of the lower classes, it was a tidy sum.
The table was quickly set, with Elizabeth helping her sister. It was an old set that Darcy was quite sure had been purchased, likely by Mr. Brown’s father, second hand. There were a few chips in the cups.
Lydia sat down as they waited for the water. “Lizzy, you should visit more. We have such fine country dances, I am too far along to really follow them anymore, but they are such fun. Two nights ago the miller got so drunk he tried climbing the steeple of the parish church, but he didn’t get far before he fell and banged his head. But he was fine, just a big bruise, and we all laughed, and it was great fun. I am such good friends with everyone, and things are just so much more fun than being respectable and rich. You should marry like I did. I could help you find a good husband.”
“I thank you for the offer, but I…” Elizabeth blushed and glanced at Darcy. “I am quite happy as I am.”
“You are not. You cannot possibly be happy living with Uncle Phillips. Now, I know you want someone learned and readerly like you. But most of the better sort in the village can read. And the blacksmith two villages over spends half his spare money on books. He is unmarried, perhaps you would like him. He isn’t as handsome as my Tom, but…”
Darcy smiled at the way Elizabeth’s face screwed up. “Thank you very much. But I need no such introduction.”
Lydia shook her head. “Is it so important you always look respectable? You can’t be having any fun. Not at all. Mr. Phillips is a tyrant; a tyrant I say. Forget about keeping up appearances. You don’t want to marry someone like him. And besides you are getting quite old. I’d be dreadfully embarrassed if I’d reached Jane’s age and not married.”
“Lydia, I do have fun. And…I am still, partly, respectable, and I shall stay that way.”
Darcy still asked quickly, “Does it really matter so much to you? Being respectable?”
“I don’t wish to be a blacksmith’s wife, even if it would be fun…” she trailed off as Darcy stared at her. “Well, no…it is not so important.”
Darcy smiled at her, and she smiled back, and then in a new nervous gesture he’d seen several times recently rubbed her hand over her neck and then over the top of her collarbones. It drew his eyes towards her bosom. He wanted to brush his hands over her skin.
The maid brought the hot water and poured it into a tea pot. She glanced curiously at Darcy and blushed.
Elizabeth said, “You do not think I should look for a strapping blacksmith to marry.”
“You should act in a way that will make
you happy. You should pay attention to the future. But you shouldn’t care what other people think of you.”
“Oh, well in that case I should marry a strapping blacksmith.”
Lydia said, “You should. And not in jest.”
At the same moment Darcy replied, “I do not mean that.”
Lydia laughed tapping the tea pot in the middle of the table. “Just another minute. Ha, so you don’t approve of gentlewomen marrying blacksmiths. I knew there was a little disdain in you.”
“My uncle is a Lord. You can hardly expect otherwise. I will strive to be polite in my disdain.”
“No need for that.” Lydia laughed. “You talk to me, though of course it is only because you like Lizzy so much, I haven’t spoken to any of my family or friends except Lizzy and Kitty since marrying. La! Mama always told me to marry, and then when I did she dropped me completely!”
Elizabeth said, “I do not believe she meant for you to be three months with child and for the husband to be a blacksmith.”
Lydia poured the tea into Darcy’s cup, followed by milk and sugar. From how her hands moved, Lydia had been only half taught how to do the ceremony. He sniffed the fragrant brew, and then took a cautious sip.
Lydia said, as she poured Elizabeth’s tea and her own, “Mama only disliked that my husband is a blacksmith. She explained that everything the church says about never having any fun between men and women, that only is important if you have money.”
Darcy’s eyes cut to Elizabeth. She was staring at her sister again.
Lydia said, in a slightly defensive tone, “What, did she never explain that to you and Jane? No wonder neither of you are married yet. I imagine you just bat your eyes at men, and hope they will ask you. That is not the way to go about it at all. And Lord. You are twenty! I can’t imagine being that old and never having a man…well it is very, very fun. Especially when you have such a man as I do.”
“Do not say such things! Not in front of Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth’s face was red, and she looked away from him.
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