Seeing that his aunt was momentarily disengaged Mr. Darcy went to her; they had not shared more than a few civilities all evening.
“You have left your wife on her own, Nephew,” Lady Richmond observed as he sat at her side.
“She requires neither protection nor succour. My wife is not easily frightened and then Mrs. Palmer is surely the least intimidating of women.”
“I am glad to hear it is so. You are well aware what little patience I have for timidity.”
“As you come to know her you will be satisfied to find her rather the opposite. Mrs. Darcy is a spirited, forthright and intelligent woman.”
He said no more and yet Lady Richmond was struck by the unmistakable admiration, by the warmth of his tone. It was as it should be in such a case as this, and yet she was surprised. Spontaneously she grasped his hand and pressed it affectionately. “You are very happy, Darcy?”
“I am,” he replied simply.
She was gratified and her position towards the seemingly inoffensive young wife softened momentarily. Nonetheless, she was manifestly displeased when later Mrs. Darcy politely declined her request to perform for the gathered party. As Lady Richmond walked away to invite another young lady to perform, Elizabeth realized she had erred in refusing, and yet she was entirely disinclined to perform and understood she would do herself no favours by performing inadequately before such a gathering. What is more, whilst she had spent a great deal of her evening in observation of others, she was keenly aware how constantly she herself had been the object of observation, appraisal and whispered asides. She was averse to performing under such circumstances; she was stubborn and refused to place herself in a position of such open adjudication.
When Miss Birdshall rose and approached the instrument, Elizabeth saw Lady Richmond look across to her with an expression of disfavour. Elizabeth turned to Darcy who was standing at her side. “Forgive me. I ought to have agreed to Lady Richmond’s request. I did not intend a discourtesy and I suspect she has understood it as such.”
Darcy responded with the same tone of disdainful dismissal that had so often offended in Hertfordshire; now he spoke in her defence Elizabeth found it less objectionable than she had been wont to do. “You are not required to perform for a room full of strangers to satisfy my aunt’s caprices. Let Miss Birdshall entertain. She plays well enough and never fails to claim an opportunity to do so, I can assure you. Someone ought to make the poor young lady apprehend that to be so desirous for presentation is unbecoming.” More tenderly, he added, “Moreover, did I not once aver that neither you nor I are inclined to perform for strangers?”
Elizabeth smiled and turned her attention to Miss Birdshall, a plump and comely young lady who in the past had certainly attempted to impress the illustrious Mr. Darcy of Pemberley with her accomplishments and her décolleté. She would happily report to her large circle of friends on the following day Mrs. Darcy’s remarkable rebuff of Lady Richmond’s request to perform; a reluctance that could only be understood if the new bride knew herself to be less than adequately accomplished for the standards of the room.
The evening soon thereafter drew to its conclusion, and as the newly married couple bade good evening, Lady Richmond recognized that they shared between them an evident regard and it flowed between them with a delicacy that was charming; there was no inelegant demonstrative display, yet as well no counterfeit warmth. Nevertheless, she found she could not see that remarkableness, that something so extraordinary to justify his choosing a girl so entirely without connections or consequence. Like Lord Richmond, she doubted the longevity of a felicity so dependent upon tenderness. Marriage, after all, was a contract, an arrangement that when well executed rested more securely upon compatibility and common interests than upon the capriciousness of love. Had that not been the case with her marriage to Lord Richmond? Had it not been the case in the marriage of Darcy’s own parents? Edith had always understood this and her marriage to Mr. Spencer Norbury was universally regarded as exemplary. But these young people took emotions to such extremes, she thought, gave them such importance. She blamed it entirely on the fashionable new poets who seemed to be infecting the world with outlandish romantic notions. She could not comprehend that her nephew should have succumbed, and worried that Henry, who was in no position to be so extravagant in his choice of a wife, should also wish to succumb to this modern notion of marrying entirely for love alone.
When Darcy and Elizabeth arrived home, Elizabeth declared herself not inclined to retire as of yet and as they walked down the corridor towards the drawing room he heard her humming happily.
“You are very cheerful,” he remarked.
“I am.”
“May I inquire what has inspired such cheerfulness?”
“Certainly. I am delighted to learn that there is no need for me to be apprehensive.”
“Do explain.”
“Having dined at your uncle’s this evening, and having met such a fine representation of your circle, I see that it is not so exceedingly different from Meryton after all.”
“No different?” he scoffed.
She laughed at his incredulity. They were standing now in the centre of the drawing room in the soft light of the candles. Elizabeth toyed familiarly with the buttons of his waistcoat, her head slightly inclined to one side; he held her gently about the waist.
“Not at all,” she insisted. “Whilst I grant you the manners are far more refined and everything is far more elegant, I will also contend that even in the drawing room of your very fine uncle there is no lack of foolishness or pettiness. Why, you should have heard how Miss Birdshall did lament the poor quality of ribbons at the milliners, as though London had only a single milliner one might frequent. Or Mrs. Shelby, pondering why everyone should prefer to go to tea at Mrs. Witherington’s, when her rooms are so small and confining. Truly, darling, I hope the gentlemen had more exalted conversation.”
“Do be serious, Elizabeth. You were unusually quiet. Was it unpleasant for you this evening?” Darcy asked tenderly.
“To the contrary. It has been rather illuminating.”
“Illuminating?”
“Very much so.”
“Will you not indulge me and tell me how so?”
She raised her gaze to his and smiled. “I now need never wonder again at your wishing to marry me.”
“I believe we had already established why I wished to marry you.”
“Oh yes, that you ardently admire and love me,” she replied playfully, waving her hand in the air as if dismissing the import of his ardour. “Perhaps I should say I have gained more clarity as to why you love me so dearly.”
“What have you deduced?” He lifted her hand and bestowed a lingering kiss upon it, delighting in her warm playfulness.
“If this evening, together with what I saw in Kent, is any indication of how your relations interact, of the dinners you commonly attend, why it is quite clear you needed me most urgently.” Her tone was teasing, but the import of her words serious enough. “Such excessive propriety, such reserve and perfection of behaviour. Why, now I think of it, even Georgiana holds you in such high regard that she dare not tease you, as any sister rightly should. Clearly, my darling husband, you were in want of some cheerfulness, just a little improper exuberance.” In a quieter voice, she added, “Dare I say, a little more happiness?”
“I cannot with truthfulness claim any particularly keen unhappiness before I knew you, but it would not be unfitting to claim a strange ennui, an uninspired living, a quiet yearning that something might appear to set my soul a stir.” Darcy took Elizabeth’s face, held it softly within his hands, his gaze caressing her luminous countenance and settling in the mesmerizing depths of her fine eyes. He spoke with passionate gravity. “You, you marvellous, delightful, incomparable woman, you have set my soul a stir. My dearest, dearest wife!”
Lowering his mouth to her eager uplifted face, he took her lips within his own and kissed her, held her pressed against his body
with unambiguous desire. “Do not call for Evans tonight,” he declared, his voice thick with passion. “Let me attend you,” he continued and as if to make a beginning of it dragged the shawl that dangled over her arm and dropped it upon a nearby chair. “Let me relieve you of all your elegant accoutrements, let me unbind your hair; Eliza.”
Her heart full, her body awash with a potent, sweeping desire she could not have before comprehended or conceived, she gladly yielded to his embrace. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for the stirring passion that had been awakened within her when he had first walked into her chambers draped in a dressing gown that revealed his tall, lithe figure in a manner the elegant layers of gentlemanly attire so delicately disguised; nothing prepared her for the thrilling pleasure when for the first time she felt the warm caress of his hand against her bare skin, her own against his; nothing prepared her for the sublime delight of their bodies united. “Whatsoever you wish for,” she declared. “I am entirely yours; be entirely mine.”
Chapter 7
A Morning Call
The following morning they awoke to a soft, persistent rain. Elizabeth felt the conditions perfect for her intended visit to Lady Richmond. Such a cold and wet morning promised there would be no surfeit of visitors to the lady’s drawing room and she hoped to find her ladyship alone. At the breakfast table she informed her husband of her intended visit.
“Lady Richmond? Shall I accompany you?”
“Not at all. You would be entirely in the way. I hope to find her unaccompanied. It will give her an opportunity to ask me all the questions she desires that we may do away once and for all with the novelty of my existence.”
Darcy leaned back in his chair and gazed at her affectionately. “Does nothing intimidate you, Eliza?”
“Many things, but not Lady Richmond. If I was impervious to Lady Catherine’s directive when I was only Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, it is hardly necessary to be daunted by Lady Richmond when I am now Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley. She is the far less severe of the two.”
“Truly, what is your purpose?”
“Nothing more than to thank her for her cordiality.”
Elizabeth’s purpose was in fact more particular than a mere civility, but she felt it best to simply go forth without more explanation, unsure how her husband would view her intention.
She found Lady Richmond alone as she had hoped, sitting in yet another exquisitely fitted up drawing room, generously bejewelled, as was her wont, and with no obvious entertainment to occupy her solitude. Whilst the prior evening Elizabeth had teased her husband regarding the similarities between the superficiality of conversation to be found in Meryton and in his uncle’s drawing room, in truth Richmond House was an extraordinarily fine establishment, with little space for informality. It was edifying to be in these rooms which had such a powerful ability to temper one’s exuberance, and she was less surprised than before having seen them at the sometimes bewildering difference between her husband’s tender, solicitous private demeanour and that polished, reserved manner he customarily displayed to the greater world.
“I did not anticipate seeing you this morning, Mrs. Darcy.”
“We depart for Pemberley tomorrow and I did not wish to leave without calling upon you and thanking you for your kind welcome last evening.”
Lady Richmond furrowed her brow and considered the young lady before her and all the contradictory things she had heard about her character. She responded in measured but not hostile tones. “We were civil in our reception. I am not sure I would agree that we were particularly kind.”
Elizabeth smiled for she was certain she had understood Lady Richmond’s character well enough to proceed as she had intended. She was amused by the elder lady’s pointed scrupulousness and it gave to her expression that warm vivacity that her husband so admired. It did not go unnoticed by Lady Richmond.
“It was certainly all I could have wished for or anticipated and I thank you.”
Lady Richmond could not determine if Elizabeth’s response represented a great modesty of character or an audacious rebuke. Her curiosity was aroused. “If I may, Mrs. Darcy, with no intention of offending, Lady Catherine warned me I was to find you a terrible upstart, very impertinent. She declared you used remarkable arts to lure in my nephew. I must say that you hardly seem so very remarkable.”
Elizabeth did not know whether this was a compliment or a dismissal, but for the sake of Darcy took it with her customary aplomb and responded with that sweet archness of expression that so many of her acquaintance found beguiling. “I would hardly expect Lady Catherine to provide a favourable report of my character. Under the circumstances it would be entirely improbable.”
Lady Richmond was charmed, detected a glimpse of the young lady who had apparently so forcefully rejected Lady Catherine’s officious directive, the young lady who, according to her son Henry, had been rather slow to accept so eligible a gentleman as her nephew. She openly examined Mrs. Darcy for a moment, noted the pretty, unpretentious style of her dress, her pleasing countenance and her demeanour of utter composure as she patiently awaited the completion of her ladyship’s examination, as though she had come to allow her ladyship just such an opportunity.
“May I ask your true motive in calling this morning, Mrs. Darcy?” she inquired at length.
Elizabeth did not hesitate to respond. “I have come in hopes of securing your ladyship’s friendship.”
“My friendship? Whatever need do you have of my friendship?”
“None whatsoever,” Elizabeth replied with honesty.
Lady Richmond smiled with real warmth for the first time. She recalled with what admiration Darcy had declared his wife a woman in no need of succour, a spirited, forthright and intelligent woman. She began to believe his words of the prior evening had not been just the prejudiced declaration of a besotted husband. “My dear young lady, you begin to intrigue me.”
“Lady Richmond, your nephew would be the first to attest to the frankness of my character. I ask your leave to speak forthrightly.” The lady bowed her elegant head and encouraged her to proceed.
“You may be aware that Lady Catherine took the great trouble of coming to see me at my home in Hertfordshire before I was engaged to your nephew.”
“Did she?” Lady Richmond was surprised that Mrs. Darcy would willingly allude to what must have been a most degrading encounter.
“She came to Longbourn to discourage me from considering myself a suitable wife for Mr. Darcy. I will not, for the sake of the dignity of all concerned, elaborate on her reasons. However, I will share that I told her at the time that should Mr. Darcy propose and should I accept, I did not believe the resentment of his family should he choose to marry me would impact my happiness. Now I have the great pleasure of being his wife, I know this to be true. He is the finest man I have ever known and no person’s unhappiness with his choice can impact my gratitude and pleasure in being his wife. I seek your friendship for his sake, not for my own—for his sister’s as well. He will of course say contrariwise to me, but it is clear the coolness of the reception I have received from his relations has disappointed more than he would wish to acknowledge.”
“Are you suggesting he begins to repine his choice so soon?” Lady Richmond inquired provocatively.
“Oh, not at all,” Elizabeth replied with a deep blush and a warm smile. “We are quite happy and I have every intention of keeping it so. I am here because his happiness and peace of mind are now my first concern and if your ladyship were to extend me your friendship, I am sure it would contribute to his peace of mind. I know to what lengths he would go for mine.”
“You must love him a great deal to come and mortify yourself before me in such a manner.”
“It is hardly a mortification to come and openly seek your friendship, and if it were, the cause would more than justify the exertion.”
Lady Richmond reached out her hand and took Elizabeth’s within her own. “I begin to understand Darcy. You have
courage.”
“Your ladyship calls it courage. Others call it impudence.”
They shared an amused laugh, and the conversation continued from thereon with great cordiality. Many questions were asked by Lady Richmond, which Elizabeth answered with such delicacy, humour and warmth, that when at last she rose to leave, Lady Richmond once more took her hand into her own. “Mrs. Darcy, you came seeking my friendship. You have it. Quite apart from Darcy and Georgiana, I believe we will find mutual pleasure in said friendship.”
“I hope it will be so, your ladyship.”
After Elizabeth departed Lady Richmond joined her husband in the library where he was reading the daily newspaper. “I have just had a visit from Mrs. Darcy. She came to call on me before their departure for Pemberley.”
“Did she?” he inquired indifferently, but putting down his paper to attend to his wife’s conversation. There existed no remarkable love between them, there never had been more than a warm, friendly amiability and a sincere mutual deference, but they lived together harmoniously, had never once quarrelled, and they never lacked in civility one to the other.
“I entirely comprehend Darcy now. The picture of Anne at Mrs. Darcy’s side at Rosings Park must have done much to induce him on. Two more dissimilar young ladies would be difficult to discover.”
“Poor Anne. What will become of her?”
“Poor Anne? She is the heiress of Rosings Park; willing suitors will not be impossible to identify. I begin to think poor Darcy perhaps is more to the point. How we pestered and insinuated. Did we all truly believe that a vigorous, intelligent gentleman could be induced to marry such an insipid, cold creature? If indeed he was ever inclined to acquiesce to the family’s wishes, Anne had not the smallest hope of success against Mrs. Darcy if they shared a drawing room for any length of time.”
To Teach the Admiring Multitude Page 6
