With deepest affections,
Lizzy
~
She bore no fear the contents of the letter would be revealed and raise alarm to her plight with all at Longbourn. Jane was the epitome of discretion, the one person she had trusted to hold safe the most intimate of secrets, and the most daring of confessions.
With the letter reread she sealed it, and placed it aside.
In reaching for a fresh sheet of paper, and of mind to write to her father she changed her mind, and likewise decided against writing to Lydia. Far from the right frame of mind to convey sense all was well and married life was as wonderful as stated beforehand, thereby to fulfil expectations of others as to her happy circumstance would be a lie. Instead she reread Lydia’s last letter. It was quite beyond comprehension to hear monies forwarded from her own allowance granted by Darcy had been needlessly frittered away instead of due rent monies paid in full.
~
My Dear Lizzy,
I am in your debt dearest sister for your unstinting kindness. What else can I convey for the embarrassment beloved Wickham and I were facing was mortifying. We knew not who would rally to our aid; nor who we could turn to but you, with Darcy so rich and all. A little covert funding from his ten thousand is not too terrible is it; in consideration of his harshness toward Wicky and banishment from a place he loves? Though instead of paying the rent in full I determined justly to deduct as much as ever I could in charge to the landlord, for his premises were shocking damp and sparsely furnished. Thus I purchased a new bonnet and a few fripperies to gladden my heart. And why not, when the dreadful man threatened all manner of reprisals, and swore he would evict us on the coming Saturday if the rent remained unpaid in full. Heeding his threat we moved out under cover of darkness and took up lodgings across town, lodgings Wicky secured on part of your generous offering. I cannot say how long we shall reside here, and I should not confess to unhappiness at our monetary shortcomings. I do love Wicky with all my heart, but army pay will not stretch to the niceties I require as that of an officer’s wife. So dear heart, I look forward to your next letter with great enthusiasm of its contents, and greater enclosed.
Yours etc,
Lydia.
~
There would be no enclosed within the next letter to Lydia. How could her sister be so flippant and disrespectful of a landlord whose lodgings into which they had readily dwelt, and what is more, entertained fellow officers and their wives within its walls? To then take flight in the dead of night was shameful. Lydia required a lesson in frugal management of marital allowance regardless of Wickham’s propensity to live in the manner to which he could not afford. To encourage reckless expenditure was to condone unpaid rent monies as acceptable behaviour, when it was Wickham’s place to provide for his wife.
She drew breath in sympathy for her sister’s foolish fate, and prayed all would be well. What else could she do when Lydia’s letters gave little thought to reality? Instead the wilful madam fostered belief Wickham’s references to their living a carefree life suited him well. It was most exasperating. Could Lydia not see the flaw of that misguided perception, and no doubt Wickham’s honeyed tongue was the prime cause of her selfless belief in his every smile and feigned affections. Oh how close he had come to abandonment of her sister, and yet, despite Darcy’s intervention, and marriage the outcome, she truly felt in her heart it would have been better had Wickham taken himself to the Continent and left Lydia in London. It would not have been easy to imply Lydia was merely away paying visit at the Gardiner house, but all could have spun sinful white lies she had changed her mind and left Wickham before he— But of course, Lydia’s silly, silly letter to Harriet Forster had bared the truth of elopement, a reckless elopement Wickham had had no intention of fulfilling in the manner her silly, silly sister had surmised. Therefore it was time Lydia accepted responsibility for her foolish notions at that time. With little effort of reading between the lines of her sister’s correspondence it was clear Lydia was not as happy as implied.
A gentle knock on the door, although left ajar, the head footman remained outside until she bid him enter. “Ma’am,” said he, proffering a letter, “this missive arrived by hand from Farthingly.”
Before Porter departed she reached for the letter addressed to Jane. “Would you ensure this is dispatched on the morrow, even if the mail boy fails to call at the house?”
“Indeed, ma’am.”
As Porter departed she unfolded the unsealed letter:
~
Elizabeth,
Do not wait on my presence at supper, for I shall no doubt arrive in the early hours or by noon on the morrow. A matter of great importance has arisen and requires my attendance. Therefore, bear with me in this brief missive. It may please you to hear Georgiana will return to Pemberley of Friday next.
Fitz
~
That was it: a matter of importance and no explanation?
“Fool, fool Elizabeth, and you dared to look upon Lydia as foolish, when foolishness is but a thorough and confounded Bennet trait— How could the Bennet family be so blighted by foolish ideals.”
Screwing the missive into a ball and throwing it across the room afforded little gratification. The sting of Darcy staying over at Farthingly was all the more hurtful, but if Georgiana was due home in four days opportunity may arise to glean a great deal about Belle. Time would tell.
It was two after noon of Tuesday when Darcy arrived back at Pemberley at the very moment she was about to step to the gallery overlooking the staircase. The conditions had turned dreary and wind had risen from the south west at around midday, which had caused the trees to sway as though in a drunken stupor for a goodly while, and then rain had fallen in earnest. Albeit the wind had now fallen quieter in the last half hour, and the rain all but ceased, the sky remained leaden. Quite uncertain in whether to greet Darcy as though nothing was amiss, his voice could be heard whilst instructing Porter to fetch something. What he required she could not ascertain, and heart racing she braced herself for his appearance. And then losing her nerve, in mad impulse she dashed back along the corridor and into the withdrawing room.
Quite expecting Porter would have informed of her presence on the upper floor, she assumed Darcy would come in search of her. He did not, and the sound of a door slammed shut with a resounding thud was unsettling. Had the unthinkable occurred? She dared not openly commiserate in Darcy’s loss, if such had befallen him and Belle, not unless he was forthcoming and revealed all. She must at all costs remain ignorant of secret trysts and a love child. And yet, perhaps he was merely a godparent to Belle’s daughter, or perhaps both were guardians of an orphan child. Why had she not put her mind to those probabilities instead of assuming the worst?
Oh how frustrating it all was; the not knowing. But surely, if all was as innocent as she now wished for, where was the need for secrecy on Darcy’s part? With no hope of settling her mind to a book, nor the intricacy of embroidery, she paced the room arms clutched about herself.
With heart pounding; part in fury, part in hopeless pursuit of answers to that unasked question, ‘are you in love with another woman?’ plagued her.
In a very short while, a door closed, then another, and in a rush she hastened to her chair, snatched up her embroidery, and duly presented the appearance of a wholly contented wife just as Darcy stepped to the room. “Ah, there you are,” said he, his hair notably damp, whilst dressed in dry grey pantaloons and black tailcoat to his person, thus he had changed from the apparel in which he had departed Pemberley.
“Damnable deluge caught us two miles distant, hence wet hair and rapid change of attire, and all despite I borrowed a Garrick in hope of beating the worst of the weather to my door.”
Was his chosen dress indicative of bad news? She placed her embroidery aside, and drawing breath steeled self to remain calm of voice. “It did turn for the worse for a while and then eased a little, and how unfortunate you arrived later than anticipated. Perhaps you
should have waited for the storm to pass before setting out, for a Garrick coat is not a carriage.”
“I endeavoured to arrive as stated within my missive,” declared he, in striding forward to place a kiss to her head. He then raised his tails and settled to the chaise longue opposite. “Would you have preferred a coachman and groom soaked to the skin? After all, Matlock and I indeed had the good fortune to shelter from the worst of the deluge beneath the roof at a convenient church lychgate.”
“I thought only of you caught in a storm, but as you say, you were most fortunate to find shelter close at hand.”
“Is something amiss, Elizabeth? You seem a little retiring, if not altogether quite out of sorts.”
“The outer conditions at present are hardly conducive to a happy countenance, and what is more, I’ve felt a little unwell for several days.”
She had his attention now, his full attention instead of his irritating habit of picking at specks of dust or horse hair from his coat. “And you chose not to inform me?”
“You were not here, Darcy.” She dared say no more for fear of voicing her grievance, other than: “Is all well on the estate?”
He completely bypassed her question, his expression one of seeming concern: “This feeling unwell, you speak of, could it be—”
“I think not, for if I judge it on Jane’s last letter, such occurs early of morn.”
He chuckled, as though somewhat amused. “It is a probability, nonetheless, is it not? For on balance, I cannot recall request for abstinence in matters of the marital bed.”
“No, but I cannot be sure a little disruption to womanly regularity is merely accountable to change of scene, or perhaps the suddenness of wedlock and the journey here.”
Incredulity etched on his face he shifted in seat as though uncomfortable. “Nonetheless, I am concerned for your welfare and shall send for the doctor on the morrow.” He brushed his sleeve, his attention drawn to a long fair strand of hair caught in the cuff, though continued his flow: “Merely as a precautionary measure in the first instance, and the sooner we know the outcome the better.”
She could not help but wonder if Belle was fair of hair. “Will it hurt your pride a little if we are not as successful as Bingley and Jane? Their news is perhaps sooner than expected.”
“Heaven forefend, Elizabeth, you think me so full of pride therefore impatience to beget a child is my only wish from wedlock. I can assure you there is no immediacy for my part. And while it is true, there is never certainty a stallion will produce offspring despite covering a filly in each of her seasons, naturally when happy news she’s finally in foal is declared, cheers are heard within the stable mews. I dare say a happy conclusion will be granted in the near future, for Darcy males have, thus far, proved positive with a virile line of heirs. Heirs are not always born first, that much is true, but always one or two boys turn up in the Darcy mix.”
“Unlike the Bennets of Longbourn.” How could he pull forth a golden hair and coil it around his finger as though merely an inconvenient consequence of an illicit affair? “And what if we are only blessed with girls?”
“Disappointment will be befall us, true enough. But we are, as many would say, in God’s hands,” said he, in getting to his feet.
Oh, if only she had the courage to confront him over Belle. “Are you taking leave again?”
“To my study. Estate business.”
“Is Farthingly part of this estate?”
He paused in stride mid-room, sense of shock, perhaps? He then turned with air of indifference about him. “Nay. Farthingly is a neighbouring estate, and the whole is about to enter on to the open market.”
“For sale? Then what will become of Lady Sanders? I believe that is who resides there, if I recall Mrs. Reynold’s correctly. You see, I asked where precisely Georgiana was staying in hope it was not too far distant, thus perhaps we could pay visit upon her and her ladyship.”
“Lady Sanders is to move south.”
“Oh,” said she, sense of moderate relief embracing her, “at a distance from established friends hereabouts. One presumes.”
“Distance is immaterial when duty begs friendship be honoured with regular exchange visitations. Besides, Belle and I have known one another almost since childhood, since the day she arrived as her uncle’s ward. She was but ten and three and a diminutive rebellious natured sprite at that time, though indeed has developed into a young woman of refined elegance and of exceptional pretty countenance.”
“And did you not think to wed her in all the time you have known her?”
“I did, as did many other young gentlemen, and she refused each and every one. We were all far too young for marriage though passionate in sporting pursuits. Thus as neighbours our friendship grew into solid mutual understanding of each other’s needs. In the natural scheme of neighbourliness, Belle and I became confidantes one to the other.”
Was confidante the new idiom for lover? “Is she still unwed?”
“For the moment, indeed, that is so.”
Curtailed by knowledge of spinsterhood she dared not ask if there was a child. “And when will Lady Sanders set out on her journey to a new home?”
“When the estate is sold.”
“I see, and that could entail months of uncertainty until a purchase is concluded.”
“Indeed, though I offered for her to stay a while at Pemberley whilst items are removed from Farthingly and taken south. It makes good sense, does it not, to remove oneself when all is made ready at journey’s end?”
It was the worst news and perhaps indicative of the first step to a longer term arrangement of Belle and Bonnie taking up residence at Pemberley. “Has she accepted your generous offer, if so, preparations for her arrival here must be put to work?”
“Mrs. Reynold’s will have it in hand.”
“Then little has changed since before I stepped across the threshold, despite my presence in this house as your wife,” said she, rising from her seat in readiness to depart the room. “What precisely is a wife’s duty at Pemberley; for I am at a loss in understanding what is expected of me?”
“Pure and simple, Elizabeth, you have servants at your beck and call, therefore you are lady of this house and will not demean yourself by resorting to household duties of any kind. As Mistress of Pemberley it is customary to receive and entertain guests in gracious manner, to engage in convivial discourse, to dress appropriate to the occasion, though I doubt you will do otherwise when occasions arise. What is more, given your propensity to instant judgement and dislike of others who fail to meet with your expectations, I would greatly appreciate restraint should such come to pass and acquaintances thereby cause a modicum of displeasure to you.”
“Entertain with convivial discourse?” She snorted with disdain, her point affirmed. “No one has called at the house, Darcy. You pay visit elsewhere with some regularity, whilst I remain here with little to occupy my time. Oh yes, I embroider until my fingers ache, I read until my eyes ache, I take walks until my legs ache, but I have no one to converse with.”
Darcy laughed; heartily.
“Do not say it,” said she, making to brush past him.
He caught her arm in passing and swung her into a mercilessly tight embrace. “There are asides to marriage, and do you not agree, discourse plays a small part on those occasions?”
“Indeed, though—”
In one fell swoop her feet were stolen from beneath her, and having hefted her into his arms he strode toward the door previously left ajar. “Accusations of wifely neglect shall be amended forthwith.”
Five
~
Restless and pacing his study, the fact he had not left the confines of the house and grounds in days he was becoming acutely conscious of pacing about the house in the manner of a caged animal. Elizabeth had made it abundantly clear to him she was less than content with life at Pemberley, duly conveyed within her outburst but a few days past, and he had a notion she suspected he was being less than ho
nest in respect of estate matters: which had become his prime excuse for frequent visitations to Farthingly. What his wife had surmised from his frequent absence was unclear, and if she thought ill of him she was masking it well. Perhaps he truly did lack the ability to sense other’s deepest feelings. After all, Georgiana had confessed and declared in a moment of honest verbal offensive, part in defence of Elizabeth left alone, and part to do with her own confinement at Farthingly. What was he to do in the circumstance of a secret he dare not own to, one even Georgiana feared she may reveal to Elizabeth in a thoughtless moment.
Mr Darcy's Mistress Page 4
