by Elaine Owen
She did not forget her obligations as a wife. She made herself available to her husband whenever he wished, taking care that he should know he was welcome when he knocked lightly on the connecting door between their bedrooms several times a week. With the initial embarrassment past, she did not find this obligation completely distasteful, and invariably Darcy would remain in her bed for the entire night before rising to take breakfast with her. Elizabeth did not object. She found, to her surprise, that she rested easier when he was nearby, his warmth and steady breathing a soothing presence that lulled her peacefully to sleep. Pemberley was still a strange new home, and it was comforting to have something familiar at hand, even if that something was her enigmatic husband. After breakfasting together, he would depart for his duties on the estate and she would not see him again until late in the afternoon.
Being a sister to Georgiana was neither chore nor duty. Rather, it was the natural result of being in her new sister’s company every day. Underneath Georgiana’s shy façade, Elizabeth found Mary’s intelligence and Jane’s quiet pleasure in everything, along with a deep desire to please those around her. Little incidents here and there showed how much she admired Elizabeth. She complimented Elizabeth at once when Elizabeth’s maid changed her hairstyle to increase the number of soft curls around her face, and she silently gazed at her new satin dress soon after it arrived from an order placed in town, looking at it with admiring eyes. When she saw the pattern of stitches Elizabeth was using around the border of a kerchief, she immediately began to incorporate the same pattern into her own needlework. Elizabeth commented on it while she sat with Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley in the parlor, sewing.
“Your pattern looked so pretty, so delicate and yet so functional, that I wanted to try it for myself,” Georgiana said timidly in answer to Elizabeth’s question. “I hope this is not wrong of me.”
“Wrong! No indeed. What could be wrong with imitating a pattern you have seen another woman put to use? I am flattered it pleased you so well that you wanted to copy it for yourself. What is it that you are making?”
“It is a gown for an infant due to be born next month, to a family that is one of my brother’s tenants. Fitzwilliam asked me to supply them with whatever assistance I could, as they are not prosperous.”
“Doubtless they will be grateful for your kindness.”
“They have expressed their gratitude many times.”
“I am surprised that Mr. Darcy would be aware of such a need among his tenants,” Elizabeth commented idly, concentrating on her stitching. “Most gentlemen would let that duty would fall to their steward.”
“Not my brother!” Georgiana answered quickly, showing an eagerness to defend him. “Fitzwilliam knows and cares for all of his tenants, especially those who are not well off.”
“He knows all of them?” Elizabeth repeated, trying not to sound doubtful. “That is a heavy burden. There must be scores of families at Pemberley, at least.”
“Mr. Darcy is known as a fair and generous landlord, and takes great care of the poor,” Mrs. Annesley said in her amiable way. “I have been told many times that he is like his father in this regard.”
Mrs. Annesley had impressed Elizabeth already as a quiet, well-bred woman who appeared to be genuinely fond of her young charge. She was a widow a few years older than Elizabeth, impoverished by the sudden death of her husband, and she had been Georgiana’s companion for a year or so. With Elizabeth’s arrival in the household, her presence was no longer needed, but Georgiana had asked Darcy to keep her on until she found a new position. Darcy, ever indulgent, had agreed.
“I have never heard any complaints against my brother as a landlord,” Georgiana said solemnly. “Many families wish they could live on Pemberley lands, but we do not have room for them all.”
Elizabeth smiled at her. “I am sure there is no greater pleasure for a sister than to hear her brother praised.” And no one dependent on the brother’s good will would dare to criticize him to the sister, she thought wryly.
Georgiana looked at the material in Elizabeth’s hands. “The handkerchief you are stitching—is it for you, or is it a gift for Fitzwilliam?” she asked.
“Has your brother expressed a preference for handkerchiefs with bright purple flowers?” Elizabeth looked at the stitching skeptically, imagining her reserved husband with such an obviously feminine accoutrement.
“I saw your initials on it, and thought perhaps he had asked for a token.”
She shook her head. “Mr. Darcy has made no such request. This is going to my sister Jane when it is finished, if I can ever manage the more difficult parts. Needlework is not my forte.”
“Fitzwilliam would treasure anything you might give him,” Georgiana assured her seriously, making Elizabeth cringe inwardly. But she looked at the younger girl with genuine fondness.
No, she had not managed to marry for love. In the end, she had made much the same choice as Charlotte—to provide for her family by marriage to a man for whom she felt no affection. But she had made the better bargain. Whereas Charlotte had to tolerate the humiliations of a fool and an overbearing patroness, Elizabeth had merely to abide the attentions of a distant and proud near-stranger, and to balance this she had the soothing balm of a warm-hearted sister and the delights of Pemberley itself. Though her life was not the fulfillment of all her wishes, in her more reflective moments she had to admit that her choice might have ended in a manner much less pleasing to her personally. Overall, she had no cause to repine.
CHAPTER TEN
The first month at Pemberley had gone by quickly, and they were in the heat of a midsummer’s day when Darcy entered the parlor with a look of pleased satisfaction on his face. Georgiana was concentrating on a watercolor she had recently started while Elizabeth sat admiringly by. In Elizabeth’s lap was a basket of stitching for the poor, and she was making steady progress on a sturdy work shirt while Georgiana’s skillful touch brought out a depiction of the stream that rose in front of Pemberley. They both startled when Darcy’s quick step came down the hall.
“Elizabeth, Georgiana, I have had a letter from someone you both know,” he said without preamble. “Mr. Bingley sends his greetings.”
It was the first time Bingley’s name had come up between Darcy and Elizabeth since their marriage, and her mind instantly flew to her sister. “How is Mr. Bingley?” she asked politely.
“He is well. He asks to be remembered to you particularly, and extends his congratulations to both of us.”
“Is he still in London? I suppose he must be; he has no real reason to return to Hertfordshire.”
“Yes, he is still in town. He is not likely to return to Hertfordshire. He says that he has decided to give up the lease on Netherfield entirely, and he may begin looking for an estate closer to Derbyshire soon.”
Elizabeth felt bitter disappointment rise in her. The only reason Bingley might have had to return to Netherfield was Jane, but he had made his intentions clear. There was a good chance Jane would never see him again, since Darcy was not likely ever to allow Jane to visit Pemberley, though they might, she supposed, encounter each other in town. She broke off a thread in her mouth, wincing as her teeth came together. “It is a pity Meryton could not get a settled, stable family in the house. A more involved land owner might do much good in the neighborhood.”
“Bingley is at a time in life when friends and amusements are constantly increasing, and to be confined to such a small town as Meryton is not his pleasure. I am surprised he kept the lease as long as he did. There is little in the neighborhood for diversion.”
“He was diverted enough, I am sure,” Elizabeth said tartly. “I hope he is able to find another home soon.”
Darcy looked at her for a moment with his eyebrows drawn together, as if considering her response. “Bingley asks if he might beg permission to trespass on our hospitality when he arrives here in a few weeks. He is traveling to Scarborough to see his aunt and uncle, but he would like to stop here first
.”
Elizabeth pretended to be distracted by threading her needle. Somehow she had forgotten that her marriage to Darcy would necessarily put her into Bingley’s company from time to time. Given a choice, she would rather never see the man again, but there was nothing to do for it now. “I will be glad to renew his acquaintance,” she finally said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.
“Excellent.” Darcy looked relieved. “I would like for you to organize a gathering here at Pemberley while he is visiting, if it is not too much trouble. It ought to be a small dinner.”
“A small dinner?” she echoed, wondering what he had in mind.
“Yes. I would prefer that you have more time to learn your new duties first, but I am sure you are equal to the challenge. Nevertheless, feel free to decline if you think it will be too much.”
Elizabeth paused in her needlework for a moment as she looked at her husband. “I can assure you, Mr. Darcy, that I am more than equal to any entertaining you might wish to carry out at Pemberley.”
“Of course,” Darcy acknowledged. “Mrs. Reynolds can give you a list of the families in the neighborhood. Not everyone will be able to attend, of course, but propriety dictates that all of them should be invited. It should be a very basic menu. As this will be your first social event to hostess since our marriage, nothing elaborate is to be attempted.”
“As I said before, I am equal to any task you ask me to take on.”
“I have no doubt of it, but simplicity will make your arrangements easier to plan and carry out, and will be more appropriate for one who is newly arrived at an elevated station in life. This will be your first chance to make an impression on the neighborhood, and it will serve also to introduce Bingley, possibly to his future neighbors. I want it to go well.”
Darcy’s voice had taken on the condescending air that Elizabeth remembered from the first few days of their marriage. Insufferable man! She stabbed her needle through the material in her hand with such force that she accidentally stabbed her own finger. “I will keep your guidelines in mind, sir.”
Satisfied for the moment, Darcy turned to his sister. “And what do you think of this news, Georgiana? Would you like to see Mr. Bingley again?”
“Of course, if that is what you want.” Georgiana did not look away from the canvas as she moved her hand lightly over the image.
“Would you be pleased if he bought an estate close to Pemberley?”
“Mr. Bingley is your friend. I am glad if you will be able to see him more.” Georgiana spoke quietly, but there was a sudden reserve in her words that made Elizabeth look at her closely.
“Yes, of course, but do you want to see him?” Darcy asked, a trace of impatience coming through in his voice.
“If you want me to.” Georgiana’s voice was very soft; Elizabeth almost had to incline her head to catch the words. She looked at her husband. Darcy’s lips tightened; something in her response had not pleased him. He turned back to Elizabeth.
“Bingley will be here for several days, at least, in the middle of August. I look forward to us welcoming him to Pemberley together.”
He turned and left the room, leaving a mystified Elizabeth in his wake. It was clear from Georgiana’s expression that she did not share her brother’s enthusiasm at the prospect of Bingley’s visit, but Georgiana looked steadily away from her. She seemed embarrassed by the discussion, and although she and Elizabeth were friends, they were not yet confidantes. Unless the younger girl raised the subject first, Elizabeth did not feel free to ask her about it.
The next afternoon Elizabeth was with Mrs. Reynolds, beginning to gain familiarity with the items in the stillroom, when a loud noise of delivery caught her attention. Going from the kitchen to the door on the side of the house, most commonly used for large items, she saw draymen handling a rectangular object, chest high and on delicate wooden legs, covered with a protective cloth. Mrs. Reynolds, following her, said, “That will be the new pianoforte the master ordered for Miss Georgiana. He had it sent special from town, as a surprise.”
Elizabeth moved closer and drew back a corner of the cloth to run a hand over the polished surface, admiring the wood’s fine grain. The wood was so smooth that it flowed like satin under her fingertips. “A thoughtful gift from a most attentive brother,” she commented to nobody in particular.
Mrs. Reynolds answered with all the confidence of a long-standing servant, “He is the best of brothers, ma’am. Whatever can be done for Miss Darcy’s pleasure is sure to be done in an instant. This is always the way with him.”
Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Reynolds carefully. “You have served the family for many years, if I recall correctly.”
“Yes ma’am. The previous Mrs. Darcy hired me when the young master was but four years old.”
“Can you tell me what Mr. Darcy was like when he was young?”
“He was the sweetest child that ever lived,” Mrs. Reynolds answered, smiling gently at the memory. “There was never a boy as good-natured as he. And he has not changed at all, from that day until this. I have never had a cross word from him in all my life, nor have any of the servants here, I am sure.”
Mrs. Reynolds’s expression was so earnest and free from guile that Elizabeth could not doubt her sincerity, but to hear her husband described as universally good-natured was remarkably far from her own rather mixed experience. “A very paragon of virtue, it seems,” she said, keeping her tone light. She did not want to be taken too seriously.
Mrs. Reynolds nodded. “He is as good a man as ever lived, though I expect you know that already.”
“I was hoping you could tell me a fault or two of his, so that I might have something to reprimand him with later!” Elizabeth answered, half-teasingly, wondering how Mrs. Reynolds would respond to such an inquiry.
“I am sure that he does have his faults, but I have never had occasion to see them. You will find hardly a servant here who has any kind of criticism to make.”
There must be something in the air of Pemberley, Elizabeth thought, that made even the servants sing the praises of Fitzwilliam Darcy. “You will not oblige me by describing even one secret failing?”
The housekeeper smiled even more broadly. “He is altogether too serious at times, ma’am, or at least he was until he married. Since then he has been much more at ease.”
Clearly, inquiries in this department were useless. “His faults are safe in your hands, I see! Never mind—please see that Miss Georgiana’s gift is placed wherever it should go. She is out walking with Mrs. Annesley, so this is as good a time as any for the delivery to take place. I will go tell Mr. Darcy that his gift has arrived.” Despite her ambivalence toward her husband, Elizabeth was glad of the excuse to break away from the musty smells of the stillroom. She would find Darcy, tell him of the arrival of his sister’s gift, and then take a brief walk along the stream before returning to her duties.
Darcy was in the small orchard on the side of the house, speaking earnestly with his steward, who bowed and moved courteously away when he saw Elizabeth. Darcy greeted her and nodded approvingly when she told him why she had sought him out. “Mrs. Reynolds can manage the delivery. I saw Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley taking their constitutional a little earlier, going over the stream in that direction, so I suppose there is no danger of her arriving home too soon. But perhaps you could walk with me and help divert her if she returns before her gift is quite ready.”
“If you would like.” She took his proffered arm and they walked together through the orchard for a few minutes in a silence that seemed, at least to Elizabeth, stiff and awkward. As often occurred, Darcy seemed content to be in her presence without the need for conversation. Elizabeth herself was lost in thought, mulling over the strange and contradictory behaviors her husband had demonstrated since coming to Pemberley. Great men could often be capricious in their likes and dislikes, she had heard her uncle say, and for proof of it, she had the man walking next to her, with all his changeable moods. She would have to write
to her aunt soon and give her a full report of her married life.
“You are very quiet today, Mrs. Darcy,” her husband suddenly said, breaking into her thoughts, and Elizabeth roused herself. “What are you thinking about?”
She could not share her most recent thoughts with him, of course, so she quickly deflected the question, lest he press her for an answer. “Oh, it is nothing worth telling, merely the wanderings of a distracted mind.”
“I would be pleased to hear your thoughts on any subject, if you would care to share them.” He pressed warmly on her hand as it lay on his arm.
How charming he could be, when the mood took him! Their path had taken them alongside the stream, and she seized on the opening it presented. “Very well, if you insist on knowing, I am comparing the vagaries of life, with all its unexpected twists and turns, with the water in the stream in front of us. One never knows what unexpected path one might be forced to follow.”
“A rather serious topic for today.”
“Indeed, but you did ask.”
“Very true.” His mouth quirked up for a moment. “It is true that none of us knows exactly what path our life is going to take. The most obvious course is not always the one taken, and unexpected twists and turns often sweep us away to a different destination than the one we had planned.”
Elizabeth thought of the circumstances that had brought her to live at Pemberley. “I suppose you have had few such unexpected turns in your life, Mr. Darcy. Other than losing your father at a comparatively young age, your life appears to have gone very much as planned to date.”
“And losing my mother as well,” he reminded her.
She acknowledged the omission with a slight inclination of her head. “I beg your pardon; you are correct. To lose both parents, and then to have to take on the responsibilities of your estate and raising your sister at such an early age, could not have been what you expected in your future. Nevertheless, the outcome did not change. Your father’s passing meant that you took on those responsibilities earlier than you had planned, but your final destination remained the same.”