Was it only two weeks ago that she knew who she was and how to behave? Then she had woken up each morning knowing what to expect, the only variable being the weather and her mother’s nerves. Two weeks ago her shoulders were held high and proud, not tight with tensions. And two weeks ago, Mr. Darcy was just the friend of her sister’s suitor. She realized she was being led back out of the library and took one more look back at the amazing scene behind her. Two weeks could change a lot of things.
She was somewhat in a daze as they walked back towards the front door. Her head was throbbing mercilessly. She let Mr. Darcy guide her and she could tell he was saying something to her but try as she might, she could hardly hear what he was saying. She realized they had stopped walking and she was being presented to an incredibly long line of smiling servants. Each time she was introduced to a servant, Mr. Darcy would say, “This is my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy.”I am sure they heard you the first ten times, why must you keep repeating it? She tried to smile and acknowledge each servant, but they all blurred together. Mr. Darcy’s speech to his servants was friendly and kind, and he seemed aware of each of their preferences and background. He would say things like, “He has served the Darcys since 1801 and has a love of apples,” or “She first started as a house maid but now runs the entire first floor but I cannot get her to let me see that darling new dimpled baby boy as much as I would like,” or “He may be a groomsman but you will never find a more avid reader.”
His kindness to his servants was almost unnerving, but remarkable all the same, as if they were a part of his family. She had never seen such a loving and kind, almost intimate, relationship between master and servant. She didn’t think she knew anything personal about Mrs. Hill back at Longbourn. At Darcy House, he seemed different. He seemed comfortable and . . . perhaps even charming? Was that what she was seeing? Her head spun a little and she held Mr. Darcy’s arm a bit more tightly. She was relieved to see the end of the row of servants. She had a new home, and saw a new side to the man she had once thought she had known as much as she wished to. She touched her hand to her aching head, forcing herself to draw in a deep breath.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said after the staff had all been introduced, “I should greatly like to rest before dinner.”
“Of course. I will show you to your room.” He dismissed all the servants but one. “Serafina, would you mind coming with us?” He turned to Elizabeth. “Serafina will be your personal maid while you establish yourself here. Of course, if you so desire, she can accompany us to Pemberley.”
Elizabeth nodded. She fingered the beautiful intricate bannister on the stairs. The white and grey marble floor went from the entrance all the way up to the triple wide curving staircase. The hand-carved dark mahogany floor boards shone as if just recently polished. She felt the textured walls against her fingertips. The pattern seemed to be mesmerizing. All this beauty is now mine? When she reached the top of the stairs she realized her gaze was fixed on the floor. Much like my mood has been. The stress of the last two weeks made itself known on her shoulders worse than ever. She felt so very weary after the trying day and travel. Was it really just this morning that she married Mr. Darcy? She tried to respond to something Darcy was saying, but felt a sudden wave of fatigue overcome her, causing her vision to blur. She reached out for something to steady herself but found nothing.
Darcy saw her face pale and her form swaying at the top of the stairs. He instinctively reached out for her. “Elizabeth, are you ill?” When she didn’t say anything he gestured towards Serafina. “Fetch some water and some towels. Immediately!” Darcy reached under Elizabeth’s arms and legs and lifted her up quickly into his arms.
The feel of the closeness of his person, the spice and warmth of his scent, and the strength in his arms sent a tingle through her body. Suddenly she felt very much awake again, as if every sense were heightened. Her heart beat sharp and fast, and she felt suddenly far too warm. She could even hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing. It did not seem to tax his strength to support her so. She wanted to put her hands to her cheeks, which now seemed to be blazing with embarrassment. “Ah, Mr. Darcy? I feel I am recovered, you may put me down now.”
At first, he had wanted nothing more than to catch her during her faint. But as Elizabeth’s color returned, her eyes brightening, all he desired was to continue to hold her. He reasoned, if he put her down, she might very well collapse again. But truthfully, it was that the absence of her in her arms would be wretched. But he must. He didn’t wish her to feel that he would take liberties with her at any possible moment. He pressed on towards her room, his gaze fixed on her pink cheeks, his hand trying to memorize the feel of her slender waist. He should have honored her request, but instead he relished in his selfish desires. Nevertheless, it was too late now. They had reached her door. He should at least say something in recognition of her question, but what? “I believe we have made it to your room safely.” His hand let go of her waist only enough to turn the handle and enter the room.
He could place her anywhere, he knew— on the armchair by the window, at the writing desk, at the dressing table, on the fainting couch, or, of course, the bed. Almost by instinct, he stepped forward and gently placed her on the bed.
Elizabeth could not resist the temptation to laugh. After his promise not to take me to his bed, he of course carries me to my own! “I do believe, Mr. Darcy, that there will be talk among the servants that you carried me off to my bed the moment you had a chance!”
A smile crept to the corners of his eyes. He stepped back and looked at that beautifully arched eyebrow and teasing smile that she was obviously trying to hold back. He couldn’t think of a thing to say in return to her lively comment, but he felt a wave of gratitude that she felt comfortable enough to speak so lightly.
Elizabeth glanced down at the floor in silence. Had she offended him? She was about to speak again when Serafina rushed in.
“Sir, the water and towels.”
Elizabeth, grateful for the distraction, turned to look at the new maid. She was strikingly beautiful, but not in a way like Jane or any of the pretty girls at Hertfordshire. Her hair was rich and dark, and piled on her head in a simple bun. She moved gracefully, placing the towels and water down with ease. Did she detect a hint of French in her accent? She looked to be a bit older than Charlotte, Elizabeth decided, and was somehow comforted by the thought. Her thoughts were interrupted by Serafina placing a chilled towel against Elizabeth’s brow. Elizabeth let her fuss over her, her mind traveling back to a few moments ago, when Mr. Darcy had held her. She was so preoccupied that she didn’t notice Serafina removing her boots until one was fully removed.
“Oh no, you do not have to do that!” She felt a stab of panic at the idea of being undressed right in front of Mr. Darcy. Serafina was surely not aware of the particular arrangement between the two.
“Madam, you must lay down! You will be far more comfortable without your dusty shoes on.”
Elizabeth was quite determined that she did not want to lay down. Her heart was most definitely not weak at the moment. She looked to Mr. Darcy for help. His eyes were on Serafina’s hands nimbly untying her laces of her other boot. I must stop her! She stood up quickly and said, “I am fully recovered, thank you. I do not wish to lay down.” She set her jaw and folded her arms in front of her.
Darcy had been so entranced in watching Elizabeth— even her foot was delicate and small, and beautifully shaped— that he hadn’t seen her evident discomfort with him being in the room. Recognizing her silent demands that he leave her to her privacy, and knowing she should really lay down, he bowed and said, “Miss Elizabeth— I mean Mrs. Darcy, I will leave you to your maid. She is greatly experienced in service to the Darcy ladies. She even assisted with my own mother before she passed.” A pained expression came across his face before he bowed and left, closing the door behind him.
Elizabeth didn’t know if she should feel relieved that he was gone or confused at the strange loss sh
e felt in his leaving. She obediently sat back down on the bed and let Serafina continue. “Is it true, Serafina?”
“About laying down? Yes, most definitely.”
“No, I mean did you help with his mother before she died?”
“Oui, it was many years ago and I was quite young. I had just started in service for the late master. Now you must lay down and recover before dinner. Is there anything I can fetch you?” She slipped Elizabeth onto the bed and laid a lap blanket on her, tucking it ever so carefully around her hips.
It was odd, Elizabeth thought, being so nurtured. Jane and she would comb each other’s hair frequently but in a family of five sisters there was hardly time for any of them to be so doted upon. The changes in her new life were going to take some getting used to. “I have to admit that I have a headache. It has been there for quite some time. Is there some chamomile tea in the house?” Reminded of the soothing sensation of Jane combing her hair, she added, “And perhaps we could comb out my tresses for a time. It seems to help with my headaches.”
“Right away, madam.” She left, but returned in what seemed like no time with the tea.
Elizabeth sat up to allow her access to her hair. She sipped on the chamomile as Serafina began to unpin her hair. Serafina began to brush rhythmically, smoothly drawing the brush through Elizabeth’s hair. Soon her tea was gone, and Elizabeth closed her eyes, letting herself surrender to the gentle pull against her tense scalp. Then Serafina put the brush down and her expert fingers helped soothe her tight shoulders and chaotic thoughts with just the right amount of gentle yet firm massage. The tension melted and her eyes became heavy. Without a word, Serafina gently guided her shoulders down to the pillow and lifted her feet to the bed.
*****
Elizabeth dreamed of a forest of cedar trees with a giant swing hanging from one of the aged branches. She felt large hands push her waist from behind, and heard herself laugh naturally in delight at being pushed. It was spring and the birds were singing. She couldn’t place where she was but knew without a doubt who was pushing her. She didn’t look back behind her but could hear his laughter as well and could smell that familiar scent of wood and spice. His hands were firm and yet gentle against her back. “Dearest Elizabeth . . .” he said, stopping the swing. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and placed his hands on her lower abdomen. Elizabeth looked down as well, realizing with distress that it was swollen!
Suddenly Elizabeth was wide awake. She lay in the room, overwhelmed by the newness of everything. Even the curtains were unfamiliar, with nothing here to remind her of home. She reached for her stomach. Flat! It was just a silly dream!
The motion reminded her, though, of how hungry she was. She looked around the room for a clock— surely it was late. It was quite dark and she could find nothing to gauge the time or how long she had been asleep. Her stomach growled loudly. Where was Serafina? She decided she would venture out to find her.
She opened the door and headed for what she hoped was the staircase when she saw a faint light under one of the doors. It flung open and she found herself standing face to face with Mr. Darcy.
“Elizabeth, how are you?” He reached for her hand. “Can I get you something?”
Right then her stomach growled again and her other hand reached to quiet it.
“Let me fetch you some food.” He turned to leave when Elizabeth spoke.
“Mr. Darcy . . .”
“William.”
Elizabeth once again ignored his request. The moment felt all too intimate as it was. “I was wondering how long I was asleep?”
“It is nearly midnight. So I would say about five hours. You did not answer my question, How are you? I have been very worried about you.”
The look of concern on his face was distracting. Could he really mean it? Could he care? She felt her heart flutter and the heat rise to her face. No, she told herself sternly. Hope was not healthy in this area. Companionship was all she dared hope for. She may think him handsome and at times kind, but he did not feel the same for her. A wave of emotion overcame her once again. She tried to collect herself and schooled her features. I cannot let Mr. Darcy know he affects me so!“I thank you, but a little bread and cheese is all I need.” He consented and promised to return shortly. She turned back to her room and flopped herself on the bed again. She wished she didn’t have to face Mr. Darcy so often.No, what I really wish is that he did not affect me so!
The time ticked on as she sat in the darkness. Her headache was gone now but a different ache was starting deep in her chest. She began to realize that he would be returning soon with the food and they would have another awkward moment in her bedchamber. She could only think of one thing to do to avoid him making her heart flutter so. She quickly made up her mind and laid back down on the bed and pulled up her covers. She hadn’t realized until then that her hair was still down and she groaned realizing that Darcy had witnessed her in such a state! Being married to him will be harder than I thought. She heard soft footsteps coming up the hall and she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.
Darcy saw her open door but gently knocked anyway. He could make out her figure on the bed but she didn’t stir. Her back was turned to him. “Elizabeth,” he whispered. He could barely make out her curls splayed across her pillow. He placed the tray of food and candle down. He whispered again, “Elizabeth, your food is here.” When she didn’t stir he knew she had fallen asleep again. He didn’t want to wake her. Just then a curl fell across her face. He reached for it, paused, and then continued. His hand had a mind of its own as it reached for that curl and gently placed it back towards her ear. He could see the shimmer of her profile dancing in the candlelight. He let out a sigh. Being married to her will be harder than I thought.
Chapter 5
T
he next morning Elizabeth stirred slightly, her mindstill foggy with sleep before she was struck with the memory of Mr. Darcy touching her hair last night while she pretended to sleep. What possessed him to do such a thing? She had stayed up hours just contemplating it. That had been the third time he performed such an intimate gesture, and he had made a promise not to do it again. Were there other promises he has made that he planned on not keeping, specifically the one he made in the carriage yesterday? And if so, why make such a promise in the first place? She found herself feeling apprehensive at the thought. Nevertheless, it was a new day and she would continue with her commitment to be a good wife and build a companionship with Mr. Darcy, starting with dressing for breakfast! She had hardly pulled back the covers when she realized Serafina was in the room and had already started to attend to her.Had she been watching me sleep, just waiting to serve me? She couldn’t help but be impressed by the thought. She let Serafina help her out of her wrinkled gown and into her best morning gown of sprigged muslin. Her mind wandered to their travel plans as Serafina fixed her hair into a very beautiful knot. Her thoughts wandered. Did they have to leave London so quickly? Perhaps she could visit her aunt and uncle while they were here, if Mr. Darcy could bring himself to visit Cheapside. She mentally chided herself for the thought. He would at least allow her to visit them on her own. She would ask Mr. Darcy at breakfast.
Elizabeth looked one last time in the mirror and smiled. “I have to compliment you, Serafina,” she said. “I have never achieved such results in such a short amount of time. You are truly an artist.” Serafina curtsied and turned to put away her toiletries. Elizabeth took this as her cue to go downstairs.
She descended the stairs slowly, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above. Its dome was inlaid with gold leaf, and circled with the same dark, intricately carved mahogany she has seen on the floor boards. The rest of the ceiling featured delicately painted ivy and pale pink berries; surely a master artist at work. She knew he was rich but this was beyond anything she could have imagined; even Netherfield was outshone by this elegance. She realized this was just the London house, she could only imagine how beautiful Pemberley will be. Her mouth was slightly
agape when she heard someone call her from the bottom of the stairs.
“Mrs. Darcy, I thought perhaps we might have an early breakfast. Allow me to escort you, as last night’s tour didn’t extend to the dining rooms or kitchen.” Mr. Darcy couldn’t resist a smile at the memory of how last night she had been wandering the halls in the dark trying to find the kitchen.
She smiled in spite of herself; she was hungry, she had to admit, and his deep voice was smooth and welcoming. “Thank you, I am quite famished.”
They didn’t even have to ring for breakfast as it was brought in as soon as Mr. Darcy had led her to her chair. Her stomach growled quietly at the display of food in front of her. Normally, her breakfast was a simple repast of toast and tea, but when she gazed at the table saw a veritable feast. Here she saw oatmeal with sweet cream, a cold veal pie, a rasher of bacon, plum and pound cake, hot and cold rolls, freshly made marmalade, and both tea and coffee.
“Forgive me,” he said in response to her gaze. “I did not know what you like to eat in the mornings so I asked them to prepare a few of my favorites. I hope there is something to your liking." He relished the sight of her lovely form in a simple day gown. And now I can see her every morning! For the first time ever he thought, thank you, Wickham, for being so evil to allow me this pleasure!
The simple act of kindness made her smile and sit more comfortably. “Mr. Darcy,” she said after a moment, lifting a slice of plum cake onto her plate. “Do we need to go to Pemberley right away?”
He glanced up at her with some surprise. “No, as I said before we may do whatever you prefer. Do you have a preference?”
She set her fork on the side of her plate. She knew he did not handle her relations well, but she longed to see her aunt. “I have an aunt and uncle here in London,” she cast her gaze up at him, but continued, “in Cheapside, and it would be nice to spend some time with them before we leave.”
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