by Elaine Owen
Her husband agreed. “You are perfectly correct, of course. Save one exception”—he pressed her hand again—“my course has proceeded exactly as planned to date.”
Was he speaking of his marriage to her? He must be; his family had expected him to marry Miss de Bourgh, but he had chosen Elizabeth instead. She would not have expected him to mention it. “I am surprised, Mr. Darcy, that you were the one to press me to speak today. Usually it is the other way around.”
“Indeed. You are undoubtedly a better conversationalist than me. I have often admired the freedom with which you speak to your familiars and strangers alike.”
Elizabeth laughed. “What you call freedom, my mother sometimes calls impertinence. It is very little less at times. She has often encouraged me to keep my thoughts to myself.”
“You need not feel that way with me. Your ease of address is a refreshing change from the formality most gentlewomen maintain. I wish I had your facility of words.”
“I thank you. But there is little lacking in your conversation, sir, once the conversation has begun. It is only its beginning that you seem to find difficult. Once it is well underway you hold forth as well as anyone I know.”
Darcy looked sideways at her, suddenly serious. “That is the first time you have ever complimented me, Elizabeth.”
Casting her mind back over the history of their acquaintance, she was forced to admit he was right. “It is something in the air here at Pemberley, I think. Even Mrs. Reynolds gave you what my aunt would call a flaming character, when we spoke of you just now.”
Darcy looked amused, and smiled when she repeated the housekeeper’s words. Daringly, she went on. “You are altogether a different person here in Derbyshire than when I first knew you.”
“How did my character first impress you, Mrs. Darcy? What did you think of me when we first met?” he asked, looking down at her as they continued to walk together.
Why had she opened such a dangerous topic? The relaxed air at Pemberley was loosening her tongue. “When we were in Hertfordshire you were somewhat reserved and silent, sir—quite the opposite of how you are now. I hardly recognize you.”
“And while we were in Kent? I hope my company improved upon you somewhat during that time.”
Elizabeth recalled their brief walks in the park and one or two evenings in company at Rosings. “You spoke a little more, I suppose.”
He pressed her hand again. “I regret that you found my conversation less than adequate during our courtship. I hope it did not distress you.”
Elizabeth gave him a startled look. “Our courtship, sir?”
“Yes, before I proposed.” He said this in such a matter-of-fact tone that Elizabeth stopped walking to stare at him.
“Sir, my father’s sudden passing may have removed certain events from my mind, but I must admit that I do not recall a courtship occurring between us when you made your offer to my uncle.”
He gave a slight smile. “Of course I did not court you while you were in mourning; I am speaking of the time when you were visiting your friend. Do you not remember our walks together in the morning, and when I called on you at the parsonage?”
“There were only three walks, and your cousin accompanied you to the parsonage!”
“So you do recall. I regret that you had to wait so many weeks to receive my offer. I would have made it to you before you left your friend’s house if other events had not intervened.”
Elizabeth, amazed by his presumption, looked away. At length she said, uncomfortably, “I was not waiting for your proposal, sir.”
“You were not?”
“No. An offer from you was the furthest thing from my mind, I assure you.”
Darcy frowned slightly. “You had no idea of my interest in you at all?”
“None whatsoever. Charlotte—” she paused, embarrassed. “Charlotte told me that she suspected you of an interest in me, but I did not believe her.”
He smiled, bemused. “Perhaps it is fortunate that I approached your uncle first instead of you, so that you were not startled into rejecting me by mistake. That would have been a sorry surprise for me.”
She had a difficult time comprehending his lighthearted comment. Clearly, it had never occurred to Darcy that she might not respond favorably to him. Resentment swelled at his easy assurance. “Indeed, had you asked at a different time, I might have been tempted to give you a different answer,” she said archly, hoping her husband would not examine her words too closely. “Look, I believe I see Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley returning through that grove of trees. We must move to intercept them before they reach the house.”
Elizabeth’s strategy worked; Darcy, apparently believing she spoke in jest, smiled at her in a rather distracted fashion, and together they made their way to Georgiana. The conversation with her husband was dropped, and the topic was not raised again that day.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The pianoforte had been a grand success. Georgiana, delighted and overwhelmed, could not thank her brother enough, and once the instrument had been set up she would hardly step away from it. Even now, as Elizabeth prepared to retire, she could hear the sounds of a light, airy sonatina floating up from the music room. No doubt it was past time for her to think of bed, but on this evening Darcy would indulge his sister for a little while longer.
Elizabeth herself was sitting in front of her looking glass while her maid brushed her hair, thinking again about Georgiana’s reaction to the news of Bingley’s visit.
Elizabeth had always suspected that Darcy hoped for Georgiana to make a match with Mr. Bingley, and she further suspected that this desire had played a role in his helping to separate Bingley from Jane. But she had not anticipated such an open forwarding of the scheme on his part. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that Georgiana understood exactly what her brother’s goal was.
When she forced herself to be objective, she could admit to herself all the reasons why Darcy might want to promote such a union. A marriage between Bingley and Georgiana would be advantageous to both families. While Bingley could not afford completely to disregard fortune, Elizabeth did not believe him to be mercenary. Georgiana would gain a respectable, kind, and loyal husband—and one who (she thought wryly) could easily be guided by his new brother. Bingley, of course, would benefit from the increased connection to superior society, and Caroline Bingley might make a more advantageous match as a result. As Bingley’s station in life was elevated through his connection to the Darcys, the Bingley family’s position in society would benefit as well. No, there was no fault to find in the arrangement.
Georgiana’s feelings about it, however, were ambiguous. Elizabeth did not yet know her well enough to judge if her reaction to her brother’s news was due to embarrassment, awkward interest, shyness, or perhaps some other unnamed emotion.
A knock came from the door connecting to her husband’s room, breaking into her thoughts, and Elizabeth motioned to her maid, who curtsied and left the room swiftly. In another moment, Darcy stood in the doorway. He had not yet changed from his dinner clothes, and Elizabeth instinctively pulled her housecoat closer around her. Darcy said nothing at first; he merely looked at Elizabeth with the steady gaze that she had come to realize did not indicate disapproval. Instead of moving into her room, however, he held out his hand to her. “Come.”
“Sir?”
“Elizabeth, please come. There is something I wish to show you.”
She rose and went to her husband, who took her hand and led her through his bedroom and through the door leading to the balcony off his suite, sweeping the door open as he did so. Elizabeth felt the summer air, warm and humid, hit her face as they stepped onto the balcony together. The sky was dark, but the light of a thousand stars shone around her and Darcy, giving just enough illumination for her to make out the railing of the balcony; there was no moon visible. All was quiet except for the muffled sound of the nearby stream. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
“Mr.
Darcy, I fail to see why—”
“Elizabeth, you may address me as Fitzwilliam when there is nobody else present.”
“Very well, but such familiarity does not explain what you have brought me here to see.”
“Look up there.” Darcy pointed his right arm toward the horizon.
Elizabeth strained her eyes but saw nothing unusual. “I am afraid I do not see whatever it may be.”
“Can you not see it, just above the horizon in that direction?”
“I think the tree branches might be in my way.”
“Here. Move toward me.” Darcy put a hand on her waist and guided her to stand in front of him, reaching around her with his other hand to point. “It is a comet, a star with a tail stretching out for miles behind it. Do you see it now?”
Elizabeth caught her breath in surprise and pleasure. “I believe I do. I have never seen such a thing before! How long has it been there?”
“Several weeks, at least. I heard it mentioned while we were in London, but being in the city, it was difficult to see with the height of the surrounding buildings.”
“I can see the comet but not the moon,” she said after a moment, searching the sky.
“We are fortunate that the moon is obscured with clouds tonight. If the moon’s light were visible, the comet would not be.”
“How long will this marvelous thing be visible? Do comets last very long?”
“Not usually. Yet this one has been observed for some months so far, and astronomers believe it may go on being visible for quite some time. It was first seen in April, I am told.”
“I wish my father could have seen this!” Elizabeth exclaimed without thinking. “How he would have marveled at it.”
Darcy had removed his hand from her waist, but he still stood directly behind her, close enough that she could feel his warmth. “Some people, blessed with fanciful imaginations, might say that the comet is a sign from your father to you.”
“A sign! What would they say it means?”
“Perhaps they would say that its appearance indicates that your father is watching over you now, guiding and protecting you.”
“What do you think, sir?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes still on the sky. “Do you put any faith in such charming fancies, or is this heavenly phenomenon nothing more than a celestial mixture of gas and dust?”
“I am a practical man. A comet is, of course, in a physical sense, exactly as you have described it; yet I would like to believe it is more than just that.”
Elizabeth turned to look at him. “Whatever do you mean?”
Darcy looked down at her, his eyes nearly as dark as the night itself. “I believe we were all put here for a purpose, Elizabeth. We all have our appointed tasks which we must complete before our time on earth is through, and if our lives are cut off prematurely, who is to say whether our Maker does not grant us a little while longer to look down on those we love, and perhaps have a second chance to complete our assigned tasks?”
“That is a whimsical notion.”
“Whimsical it may be, but life thrives on such fancies and wishes; they nurture the soul and give it hope.”
“I confess I did not expect to hear such a statement from you,” Elizabeth said, her head still tilted at an angle to look up at him. It occurred to her that this was an odd conversation for a man to have with a woman of supposedly inferior birth, whom he had married from duty and not desire. Did he not despise her father and the rest of her family? She waited for Darcy to respond, but he made no answer, and after a moment she turned back to gazing at the comet. The silence stretched out for several minutes.
“I have heard,” Elizabeth finally said, “that the ancients used to believe in making wishes on stars as they fell to the earth, thinking that wishes made at such times would be granted. Never having observed a falling star in person, I have never had the opportunity to try it for myself.”
“What would you wish for, if you could?” Darcy’s voice was deep and warm in her ear.
“Why would I need to wish for anything?” she answered lightly. “You and Georgiana are very kind, and my family is safe and happy. I want for nothing.”
“There must be something,” her husband protested. “Everyone has at least one thing that they desire, some wish that has not yet been fulfilled. I wish you would tell me what yours might be.”
Once she had wished to marry for love, but that chance was now gone forever. “You are very gallant, Mr. Darcy. If you insist on knowing, then my desire would be to see a falling star for myself. But now, since you have discovered my wish, I must know yours. What would you ask for, if you could?”
“To know the hearts of the people closest to me.” Darcy’s voice was suddenly grave. “To understand their thoughts—to know their desires completely, and to bring them nothing but the greatest of happiness.”
“You are speaking of Georgiana, of course,” Elizabeth said, serious in her turn.
“Georgiana—” Darcy’s voice suddenly seemed choked. “Yes, of course. My sister.”
“I saw her reaction when you announced Mr. Bingley’s visit. She seemed strangely agitated when you asked her if she would like to see him again. Has she always shown such discomfort at the prospect of guests?”
Darcy seemed to weigh his words before speaking. “Georgiana is uncomfortable around anyone who is not a member of the family.”
“Even Mr. Bingley? As long as she has known him?”
“Though she has known Mr. Bingley through me for many years, lately her acquaintance with him has taken a different direction. It is difficult to say if her reticence is due to this fact, or if there are other circumstances influencing her at this time.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I wish you would not speak so obliquely. If I am to be of assistance to Georgiana, it would help if I were to know everything that might be affecting her peace of mind.”
“They are private matters which do not directly involve you. You need not concern yourself.” Again, Elizabeth felt as if a door were being shut in her face. She bit her lip in disappointment.
“I think I would like to go in now. It feels like rain.”
Darcy obligingly let her precede him back toward the balcony door, but as she began to move across the threshold, he reached out and held her back with a hand on her elbow. She turned to face him, and he raised his other hand to lightly caress her cheek, his eyes warm and intense. “You are very beautiful tonight, Elizabeth.”
He had never done that before. Not once since their wedding night had he expressed any appreciation of her physical form, and their contact until now had always taken place completely within the confines of their chambers. Elizabeth closed her eyes as Darcy leaned down to kiss her gently, then opened them again when he pulled away and let his forehead rest against hers. “Stay in my bed tonight, Elizabeth.”
As a dutiful wife she was willing to accommodate his request. It was not unusual; she had been summoned there before. “As you wish, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, and moved inside his room. Darcy did not move from his spot as she walked obediently to the bed, pulled back the counterpane and climbed in, but she caught a glimpse of his face just as she put out the lamp. She could have sworn his expression was one of disappointment.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Something had changed overnight, something undefinable and yet unmistakable, a comprehension that Elizabeth could not put into words. She felt it in the terse commands Darcy gave to the servants as they arranged breakfast on the sideboard, in the guarded expression in his eyes as he looked at her down the length of the table, in the short, clipped replies he gave in response to her questions about his plans for the day. The silence between them lengthened uncomfortably while she looked down at the food on her plate and wondered what she had done now to provoke her mercurial husband.
Georgiana, too, seemed troubled by her brother’s mood, glancing at him uneasily while she ate and leaving the table as soon as courtesy would allow. Elizabeth prepared to follow her, but she
was stopped by her husband’s voice.
“Elizabeth, I would like you to stay for a minute.”
“As you wish.” Elizabeth resumed her place in the seat from which she had just arisen. “How may I be of assistance, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy looked at her with unconcealed irritation. “I have asked you before not to address me as Mr. Darcy, at least not when we are alone.”
“I beg your pardon,” she said hastily, concealing her own annoyance. When her husband behaved in such a distant, formal manner, how did he expect her to address him? “I will make more of an effort to remember that in the future. Is there something in particular which you wished to discuss with me?”
“Yes.” Abruptly Darcy stood and walked to the picture window that overlooked the lawn with its majestic oaks and Spanish chestnuts. His back was ramrod straight, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he said, “I have been thinking about our conversation yesterday, when we were walking in the garden. Do you remember it?”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said, frowning as she tried to recall the details.
“You said that you had not been expecting my addresses at the time that I made an offer for you.”
“That is true.”
“Might I ask you how your uncle informed you of my proposal?”
Elizabeth could not imagine why her husband was interested in revisiting that particular topic, but she saw no harm in humoring his whim. “My uncle was very straightforward,” she replied. “He said that you had requested an audience with him earlier that afternoon, and that you had asked him for the honor of my hand in marriage. He said that if I was agreeable, the wedding would be held right away.”