Mr. Darcy's Grieving Wife

by Rose Fairbanks

  “I do not blame you for anything you said or did. I do not know when my feelings began to change. I was slow in recognising them. Perhaps they were obvious to me last of all.”

  “Except for me,” Elizabeth added. “I thought you were only exceptionally kind and civil. I compared your treatment to Mr. Bingley’s.”

  Darcy laughed. “Bingley’s behaviour must always cause trouble when contrasted with my own. He is always in a better mood and easier in the presence of others. Did you forget, though, that he is in love with Jane? Of course, he would offer Netherfield to your family!”

  Elizabeth shook her head and chuckled as well. She really should have considered that fact. “Do you think he would not be so friendly if others were in such a position?”

  “He might offer them to stay as guests, but he would not take such an interest in their affairs.”

  Not as Darcy had done. She mistook Bingley’s concern for affability and his affability for affection. Bingley did not display his love for Jane by his constant smiles; he did that for everyone. He showed his love for Jane by taking care of her family.

  Darcy had not really answered her first question as to why his feelings had changed. Was it something she had done? Did she unconsciously demand love from him? For that matter, he had yet to seem happy about the situation. She chose not to push for any more answers, uncertain she wanted to hear them. Instead, they talked about other matters, such as Pemberley. When she had returned to her room to rest before dinner, it occurred to Elizabeth that what they spoke on was not just a dull list of things. Explaining which flowers were planted in the gardens of his estate and other nuances of his homes exposed small revelations about Darcy. In his own way, he was allowing her to learn more about him.

  Why had he not remained true to their agreement? Theirs was to be a marriage of convenience. If Elizabeth had any notion that Darcy might fall in love with her, then she never would have agreed to it. At least with Mr. Collins, she knew any feelings he had were entirely imaginary.

  Elizabeth considered what she knew of love. She had always known it was more profound than infatuation. Still, she expected that giddy and nervous feeling before seeing the object of her desire to be stronger when in love. If she were in love with a gentleman, then she would always wish to be in his company. She would never tire of his presence. They would have much in common and feel similarly about all essential matters lest they be as unequally balanced as her parents had been. Love should be simple and easy. They would never be vexed with one another.

  She had known enough about Darcy to see that they had some similar likes. She believed they would respect one another and become good friends. However, Elizabeth had never once thought they could be of a uniform mind on really any topic or situation. Darcy was so headstrong that she could not imagine him ever merely agreeing to her opinion or method. Likewise, she had too much pride to go along entirely with his. What they seemed to excel at was compromising. Friends and business partners compromised. Did lovers? Jane and Bingley never seemed to. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, the married couple whom Elizabeth most admired, did not appear to disagree on matters.

  When she considered her present feelings for Darcy, she sighed in disappointment with herself. She enjoyed being his wife. It comforted her to know she could rely on him while she grieved for her father. Something about his presence soothed and relaxed her. However, her heart did not skip when he was near. She sometimes missed him, but in the way she missed a familiar friend or her family. It was not that she anticipated seeing him. Her mind was never cluttered with thoughts about him. Although she found Darcy attractive, she never caught herself wool-gathering over his eyes and smile.

  Elizabeth wished she knew how to make herself fall in love with Darcy. Love was like a fire that could not be contained. It was supposed to consume one’s heart and soul; it must begin with a spark. She feared she had missed such a moment with Darcy.

  She had never truly tried to love him. A fear niggled in the back of her mind, but she pushed it aside and resolved to love her husband. She would begin when next she saw him—or should she seek him out? That would be the more lover-like thing to do, would it not? Exhaustion still nipped at her, and the torrent of nerves and emotion did nothing to help. She should rest now, and court her husband later.

  *****

  At dinner, Elizabeth focused conversation on her husband.

  “Did you see Georgiana while you were in Town?”

  “Yes, although not as much as she would have liked. I dined with your aunt and uncle on my first night there. I was astonished at how much your cousin Emily favoured you in the portrait done by Miss Lucas.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, Emily does take after me. We are unsure, though, if she will turn dark-haired like me or remain blonde like her mother and aunts.”

  “Yes, Mr. Gardiner said that while your features were very much from the Gardiner side, your colouring was more like the Bennets’.”

  “Grandmother Bennet had fantastically dark hair, even in her old age. Papa had barely any gray at all, but then perhaps he was too young.” Elizabeth felt her smile falter. Why could she not put thoughts of her father behind her? Thinking about him now when she ought to be falling in love with Darcy made her feel guilty.

  Her husband laid a hand atop the one in her lap, which had fisted her napkin. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and a fond smile lifted his lips. Perhaps he did not mind that she was sometimes overcome with grief.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat. “How about you? Do you take after the Darcy or the Fitzwilliam side?”

  “When you meet my family, I think you will see for yourself. The Fitzwilliams have very strong features, and the Darcys have strong colouring. I, like you, am a mix of both.”

  The image of a dark-haired son with Darcy’s blue eyes popped in Elizabeth’s mind for a moment, bringing a smile to her face. “What about your sister?”

  “Ah, she is a Fitzwilliam through and through. Apparently, all Fitzwilliam women are blonde with large blue eyes.”

  Elizabeth’s smile grew at his words. If she could imagine their children and their future, perhaps that was one step closer to love. “She sounds stunning. I suppose she will give you trouble with suitors soon enough.”

  Darcy’s smile slipped, and his brow furrowed, leaving Elizabeth to wonder what she said that would alter his mood so much. She watched as he gazed at Lydia and Kitty, a concerned look overtaking his features. Did he think they were too wild? He must regret being cooped up in the same house with them for so long.

  Elizabeth attempted a few other topics for conversation, but nothing sustained their interest. Thankfully, Miss Bingley soon stood, signalling that the ladies should depart for the drawing room. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief at the separation. She scrutinised Kitty and Lydia as they played cards. They were not as boisterous as they once were. Now and then, they even looked to Caroline as an example of how to behave. Elizabeth saw nothing that should worry Darcy.

  She attempted to shrug his behaviour off and focus instead on reasons to love him. When the men entered the drawing room, Elizabeth firmed her resolve. Recalling how he had watched her while she sang at Netherfield during Jane’s illness, Elizabeth asked Caroline if they might have music. Choosing the same song she had played that evening, Elizabeth seemed to have made the correct choice as Darcy gazed at her with affection in his eyes. There, was that not what a loving wife would do?

  As she got ready for bed that evening, Elizabeth considered her next move. Other than initiating a few kisses, she had only followed Darcy’s lead with intimacy. Over the last few weeks, he had scrutinised her every reaction and now knew exactly how to please her. She intended to return the favour. Tonight, she would dote on him instead.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, Elizabeth dragged herself out of bed before her husband. Since their wedding, he had often arranged for her to have a tray in bed. Today, she decided to reciprocate.

  They decided to
eat together in their sitting room—which they had yet to use. When the meal was over, Elizabeth suggested that they spend the morning together. They read for about an hour and discussed various things. Next, they attended to their correspondence. Mrs. Gardiner had written to Elizabeth inquiring about how things progressed with her marriage as well as how the Bennets adjusted to Netherfield and their impending new residence.

  Deciding she needed a married confidant, Elizabeth related to her aunt Darcy’s confession of love and her own difficulty in reciprocating. She dearly hoped the woman would have some sensible advice. Elizabeth felt she was running out of ideas. Most of what she knew of courtship was that the woman instantly had feelings and the man encouraged them with gifts and by paying particular attention to her. After the marriage, it seemed to be a foregone conclusion that they loved one another, and from public appearances, romance disappeared. How did love stay alive in such a state, then?

  They had now spent the morning together, and Elizabeth felt no uncommon pull to his side. They sat at separate desks, and she was perfectly content on her own. Now and then, she would hear a pause in Darcy’s writing. Looking up from her own, she never saw him gazing at her in wonder as though he could not focus on his task. Instead, his brow was furrowed as his hand paused at the inkwell lest he blot the paper. She could see it took all of his concentration. She may as well be on the moon. She did not care one jot if he did not notice her as he worked—all the more proof that she was not in love with him. If she truly loved him, would she not be jealous of his attention and time? Even Caroline Bingley had attempted to draw Darcy’s attention from letter writing.

  Eventually, Darcy set his business aside. Having finished with her own letters, Elizabeth had taken up a book. Glancing at Darcy, she saw him roll his shoulders as though stiff from leaning over a desk not made for his larger frame. Reminding herself of her intention to try and love him, she went to his side. There, she began to rub the tense muscles of his back and shoulders.

  “That feels wonderful.” Darcy sighed.

  “If you removed your coat, it would have a greater effect.”

  Obediently, Darcy removed the thick and unrelenting fabric, letting a moan drop from his lips as she squeezed the back of his neck.

  “You have been sitting for too long.”

  “Indeed, I have.” He pulled her hand from his shoulder and tugged her around to face him. Lifting her hand to his lips, he smiled. “Thank you. I needed that. However, you did not need to spend all of the morning with me.”

  Elizabeth blushed. “I do not have much else to do. It is not as though there are any duties for me here. Mama is well-attended. And…and…” she stammered. “I had wanted to have a taste of what life may be like when we leave Netherfield. I enjoyed this time with you.”

  Darcy’s eyes searched hers, his smile slipping. “What would you like to do now?”

  “Perhaps we could go for a walk? Or would you prefer to ride? I am not much of a horsewoman, but maybe you could assist me.”

  He raised a brow. “I recall you walking here when Jane was ill. Surely if you cared to ride at all, you would have. What do you mean by ‘not much of a horsewoman’? When was the last time you rode?”

  Elizabeth looked away and coloured. “I might have been seven or eight.”

  “Seven or eight! It is a good thing I asked rather than take you at your word. And if I had asked you to race me or jump over a fence, would you do that as well?”

  Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip. She was trying to please him. It sounded insane when he put it to her like that. However, in the moment, she probably would have followed whatever he suggested. She attempted to make light of it and shrugged. “I might have. I do not suppose it is challenging to do since so many accomplish it.”

  “Elizabeth, most likely you would have hurt yourself or the horse or both. A horse, I can replace. But you?” Darcy shook his head, his eyes growing dark. He clutched her to him. “Promise me you will consider your safety before any more of these suggestions. When we are at Pemberley, I can teach you to ride properly if you wish it. Simply attempting to be a good rider to please me is a sure recipe for disaster.”

  He appeared haunted by the thought, and Elizabeth knew. She knew that all her pretending did not, could not, make what was not present a reality. Darcy looked terrified by the mere thought of losing her in a hypothetical situation. The only person Elizabeth had felt similarly about was her father. The sorrow she felt at his death was such that she did not think her heart could recover. That was what Darcy felt for her? How could she ever match that? She did not believe the organ now beating fast in her chest could do that. There simply was no space for another—or perhaps it would not love again after her father’s passing. That is what happened to everyone, after all. Immortality did not exist on this Earth. Love brought only heartache—even when it was unintended, such as now when Elizabeth nearly broke her husband’s heart with only speculative concerns.

  They chose to take a leisurely walk around the garden. Elizabeth did not offer much in the way of conversation, her mind too full of the earlier fiasco. She had never shirked from facing her fears before, once she bothered to name them, and so she bravely faced the ones before her. She quickly saw that her heart was timid and shy at the prospect of romantic love. If the loss of a parent could shatter her, then what would happen if she loved a man?

  Besides acknowledging her fear of love was the unconquerable belief that she simply could not love. She was broken in some way. Elizabeth was not so simple as to only believe in love at first sight. She thought one could overcome past prejudices and fall in love. It sounded as though that is precisely what happened with Darcy. He had not set out to admire her. However, Elizabeth could see all the reasons why she should love Darcy, and yet she could not.

  Fear, Elizabeth could face. She supposed that the benefit of having loved at all would outweigh the potentially high cost of loss. After all, many people choose it; some even do so many times in their life. However, if she were faulty and defective in some way—well, what could she do to change that?

  Darcy attempted to draw her from her preoccupation. Knowing that now was not the best time for private thoughts, she refocused her energies on her husband. She took his arm and squeezed it to her, as she knew he liked. Now and then, she glanced at him, smiling when his eyes met hers. However, the more she attempted to encourage him, the more he seemed to withdraw. Where she had quickly earned smiles and even laughter before, today he did not bestow any full grins. No chuckle passed his lips. Neither were there moments of sweet quiet. Rather than prolong the torture, they chose to return to the house. Darcy mumbled something about needing to speak with Bingley in the library. Elizabeth watched him go with regret. Was he tiring of her already?

  *****

  “I am surprised to see you without your shadow,” Bingley said when Darcy entered the billiards room the next day. He handed him a cue.

  Darcy chuckled. “Elizabeth’s friend has called.” He took his turn and then watched Bingley.

  “Ah, yes.” Bingley nodded. “Miss Lucas. I believe Jane is with them as well.”

  “You really should not call her by her Christian name until you make it official.”

  “I have decided I shall on Christmas Day.”

  “Indeed? I thought you were waiting until her half-mourning was over.”

  “Do you disapprove?”

  “Not at all. This will allow Elizabeth time to share in her sister’s joy before we leave for London.”

  Bingley paused before striking a ball. He aimed, but it went in a different direction than he intended. Cursing under his breath, he leaned against the wall and watched his friend analyse the table. “Are you certain she is willing and able to go with you?”

  Darcy’s cue slipped from his hand and ripped at the fine felt of the table. “Blast! I apologise, Bingley. I will pay for its repair.”

  “Think nothing of it. I know I have scratched my fair share at Pemberley.”
He put his cue up and then took Darcy’s as well. “I suppose that is it for our game. Well, what to do with the ladies occupied? We could ride. However, I think it is too late in the day to shoot. Or do you wish to remain indoors so Mrs. Darcy may find you as soon as Miss Lucas leaves?”

  Darcy rubbed the back of his neck and felt heat creeping up his face. As a bachelor, he had been hounded by women—Bingley’s sister as an example. It was not such a trial with Elizabeth. Indeed, he would enjoy her constant company if she were doing it out of genuine affection.

  He had scratched the pool table at Bingley’s earlier question about Elizabeth’s readiness to go to London because he had hoped to avoid thinking on the subject. Wishing as he did for Elizabeth’s happiness, it became increasingly evident that he might have to leave her behind. She would not be ready to join him in London. He could postpone her taking on the duties of Darcy House and Pemberley and have the housekeepers continue to run the homes. However, it would be pointless for her to be in Town and away from the comforts of her family if she could not manage socialising. Even worse, she would not be able to bear the constant scrutiny she would receive.

  “You do not have to go,” Bingley said, interrupting the quiet that had descended between them.

  Darcy knew his friend referenced the direction of his own thoughts. Should he leave Elizabeth in Hertfordshire and go to London alone? Or should he remain at her side? If she gave even the slightest hint that she wanted him with her, and not out of obligation, then he would not hesitate to send his regrets to Camden and clear his schedule for as long as she required. Instead, it seemed increasingly likely that all she needed was time and space from him.

  Darcy excused himself from Bingley’s company. He sought out the privacy of his own chamber to think about his future with Elizabeth. What would happen if she did not journey with him for this dinner? Would they establish separate lives? It was not unheard of in his circle. Would she eventually feel ready to join him? Even if she did, he doubted it would be as a woman in love. She would merely be his wife out of obligation.