“I was. I always was. If it is not an imposition, sir, I would return to them.”
With little further discussion, Mr Darcy offered me his arm. I returned, as if I had never been away, to my own chamber. The room I had run from in tears and torment, I re-entered in calmness and love. Hannah assisted me in my bath and brushed my hair. As usual, she anticipated me. “Shall I leave your hair loose this evening, madam?”
“Yes please, Hannah.”
She helped me into one of my fine ivory nightgowns and left me sitting at my vanity, pondering my reflection in the mirror. My eyes surveyed my slighter figure and shrunken bosom. I tried breathing in and thrusting my chest out to only minimal effect.
“Elizabeth, what are you doing?”
I spun around to see Fitzwilliam in the doorway, still dressed and grinning.
“I fear that I am rather thin now, Fitzwilliam, and I have become flat around my chest. I was attempting to disguise it, but I confess the only remedy is Cook’s fine cuisine!”
He ran his finger across the exposed part of my bosom, holding my gaze in the mirror. “I am not sure that I would say flat—a little less full maybe. But you must know, you are still exquisite, Elizabeth. In any case, these things will pass, especially if your appetite continues as it has this last week.”
“You speak as if that does not please you?”
“You know everything about you pleases me.”
To see him standing before my bed in the half-light of the summer dusk reminded me with a jolt that, in my recklessness, I had lost our child, and I was overcome with sadness. An ache deep within me seemed to roar. “That cannot be true, Fitzwilliam.” I decided to speak while I had courage. “It cannot please you that I lost your child. It cannot please you that I kept it from you and that I behaved so rashly, that—”
“Hush, Elizabeth. You must never think of what has happened in that light.” He knelt beside me and took me in his arms. “It is not so. The doctor assured me that it…well…it would have happened eventually. The child was not meant to be, Elizabeth. He or she…it was not your fault. I hope you can accept that. I accept it. I certainly could never blame you. You have suffered so much, and I know you are not at fault. As for your not having told me you were with child…well…I am ashamed of myself that you did not feel able to approach me. You said I had not spoken one word of love to you, and I realise now that I had not. A man who felt less might have said more. But I say it now, very clearly. I have come to realise that I have been altogether too silent with you. I have not told you what is in my mind, and I have made you shy of speaking truth to me. Know this. You are the wife of my choice, and I love you.”
Tears stung my eyes, and a shiver crept across my back. He picked me up and took me to my bed, undressing and joining me in a trice. Quietly, gently, beneath the cover, he loved me, and I loved him with all that was in me. As he reached fulfilment, he said my name. He whispered, “I love you” into the crook of my neck as he lay, spent, above me, and I knew he meant it. I could feel my eyelids closing and the energy leaving me, but still he stroked my shoulder.
“You know that I also love you, Fitzwilliam.”
“I hope so. I hope very much that it is so.”
“Of course, it is so. I would never have gone to Mrs Lovelace’s if I had not loved you.”
He planted a kiss on my head and whispered, “I know. Sleep.” And I slept.
Chapter Sixteen
When the time came for Jane to return home, I felt none of the dread at the prospect of being separated from her as I had felt upon our last parting. I had been blessed with her company for four glorious weeks, and during that time, she had quite restored me. Of course, I ached when I thought of my poor child, but in body, I was back to health. The summer had drawn on and grown stifling in the close streets of town. We had never intended to stay away from Pemberley so long, and it was only concern for my health that kept Fitzwilliam from ordering our immediate departure for Derbyshire. Jane’s final full day with us was a sultry one, and we spent it lazily, walking in Hyde Park under the shade of parasols and talking in the hazy sunlight of the courtyard garden at Darcy House. The evening was set aside for a trip to the theatre with Mr Bingley, his sisters, and our aunt and uncle Gardiner, so Jane and I were quite determined to make the most of our time together during the day. Glasses of elderflower cordial glistened between us, and we talked.
“Mr Darcy seems a most devoted husband, Lizzy. I shall be glad to tell Mama when I return and mean it. I know she was rather anxious.”
“Yes, he is. I am very lucky, Jane. But I must say that I wonder at Mama! I knew that she was worried for me as Mary said so, and as you rightly say, there is no need to be. But, well, I cannot be touched by it when she forced me into marriage with Mr Darcy, not knowing him for the man he truly is. After all, she did not know on my wedding day that he would be kind.”
“No, perhaps not, but he is, isn’t he? Lizzy, he is kind to you when you are between yourselves, I hope?”
I could hear the strain in her voice and knew she may have spent days and weeks thinking of how to broach this subject with me. Like me before my marriage, she was ill-informed of the facts, and she was mortified with embarrassment.
“Yes.” I laughed slightly. “He certainly is. He is very kind. And Jane, when you come to marry and Mama speaks to you of those things the night before, take little notice of what she says. She exaggerates and is not very comforting on the subject. When the time comes, I shall talk to you.”
Jane flushed. “Thank you, Lizzy—although, you will have to approach me as I could never ask about that! In any case, nobody has offered for me, so we are safe from embarrassing conversations yet awhile. But you must promise me that you hold nothing against our mother. After all, if Mama acted rashly over the matter, then maybe you should be glad she did?”
“Jane, you are too good. Mama does not deserve you. My only wish is that you find the felicity in marriage that I have. Mr Bingley still visits, I see. And of course, we have tonight.”
“Now you sound like Mama yourself. I hope that I do not have to guard against false accusations of familiarity this evening!”
“I doubt that will be necessary. I see how Mr Bingley looks at you. We all do. But has he said anything about returning to Netherfield?”
“No, he has not, although he does say often how happy he was there. I cannot imagine what keeps him in town in this hot weather.”
“Can you not?”
We exchanged a quick and affectionate look. “No, Lizzy. That is ridiculous. I am sure that he does not remain in town simply to call at this house. That is quite silly. After all, he stayed away from Netherfield for so many months when I was but three miles from the threshold. No. He must have business here or something of that nature.”
“Well, we shall see,” said I, knowing better than to push my sister’s modesty.
We took a light luncheon with Georgiana, and the rest of the day passed in a languid haze of theatre preparation and friendly gossip. When the evening came, Hannah dressed me in a pale pink silk gown that I had never worn before and adorned my hair with tiny roses. My first evening out in town as Mrs Darcy had arrived, albeit eight weeks after I had arrived myself, and I was agog with excitement. Jane wore blue and looked a great beauty. Georgiana was always well dressed and did not disappoint her audience. I believe Mr Darcy was quite content to escort the three of us into his carriage and up the marble steps of the theatre. The place was a throng of fashionable faces, fluttering fans clasped by jewelled fingers, and flapping coattails on eminent gentlemen. I heard snatched whispers of “Mrs Darcy” and “girl from Hertfordshire” on the air as I passed unknown loiterers, but I cared not. Our aunt and uncle Gardiner, Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley, and Mr and Mrs Hurst met us in the box and were all, for their various reasons, delighted to be there. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurs
t, I believe, liked to be seen in Mr Darcy’s box and seemed to remain standing for an unnecessarily long time. Mr Bingley immediately took charge of Jane, conducting her to her seat and engaging her in conversation that we all knew would consume both for the evening. Our aunt and uncle were, I believe, simply pleased to see Jane and me together, happy and healthy.
“My dear, Eliza,” heralded Miss Bingley. “How wonderful to see you—and looking quite recovered! I would have expected a country girl such as yourself to be more robust. But maybe it was all the travel you have been undertaking. I understand you visited Kent from Pemberley and then to town when I suppose you are not used to such long journeys. And to be in town for so many weeks but not able to go out must have been a real trial—”
Mr Darcy cut her off sharply. “Thank you, Miss Bingley. Fortunately, Mrs Darcy is quite recovered; however, I will not have her health discussed before the whole of London. And as for not going out before tonight—perhaps, I have been unwilling to share my wife with others.”
With that, she was silent. He conducted me to my seat, sat next to me, and as the theatre darkened for the performance, I leaned to his ear and whispered, “Thank you, sir. If you should become any more demonstrative in public, I should hardly know you.”
“I hope you do not come to expect it, Elizabeth. It is quite against my nature. But on this occasion, I felt one comment would be sufficient.”
With that, I relaxed into my chair and revelled in the opera.
We were a jolly party on the way home. Jane and I had never attended such a well-appointed theatre and never in such finery. We had been to smaller performances with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, but the evening’s entertainments had been quite outside our experience, and we were giddy with excitement. I wondered that Jane was not a little agitated as she fixed me with an extravagant smile from across the carriage. I thought no more of it and enjoyed our ride home in the slightly cooler air of the night. Upon our return, we clattered into the lobby of the house. Cloaks were unbuttoned, hats removed, and contentment expressed by all. I believe Jane and Georgiana were shocked when Mr Darcy responded to my yawns by picking me up in his arms, turning to them to say, “Goodnight ladies,” and then proceeding up the stairs. For myself, I was neither shocked nor unhappy. I gripped his lapels and kissed his ready mouth as soon as we were out of sight.
“Hannah, you may retire. I will attend to your mistress this evening,” he said as he deposited me on the bed.
“Yes, sir.”
I smiled at Hannah and thanked her with my eyes, suddenly conscious that, as a maiden, she was sometimes party to things she should not be. When she was gone, my husband kneeled on the end of the bed and removed my tiny satin slippers whilst stroking the arches of my feet.
“It was wonderful to see you enjoying yourself this evening, Elizabeth, but I must confess, I have passed the entire evening anxious to get you home.”
“Whatever for, sir?” I teased as his hands crept up my legs and found my stocking tops.
“Well, firstly, to do this,” said he as he pulled each stocking down, discarding them either side of the bed. “And secondly, to do this.” He pushed up my skirts and began to kiss the inside of my knees and thighs, his hands reaching up the bodice of my dress. His grip was strong, and his kiss was hot against my skin. My back arched, and a passion for him shuddered through my body. When I could bear his ministrations no longer, I sat up and ran my fingers through his dark curls, bringing his face to mine, savouring his breath as he began to work on the buttons at the back of my dress. He said my name almost in a whisper as I kissed his neck, but in that moment, we were startled by a light tap upon the door. “Shh,” I said as I covered his mouth with my hand, alarmed that somebody stood outside of my chamber. We waited in silence, our passion arrested, until there came another tap and Jane’s lilting voice rang out. “Lizzy, are you there?”
“I shall come directly, Jane. In just one minute!”
Mr Darcy looked at me in astonishment.
“If I did not answer, then she would worry, Fitzwilliam, and I cannot send her away without seeing her!”
“And where shall I go?” he asked slightly above a whisper. He was poised above me, aroused and dishevelled, and I knew it would not do for my sister to see him.
“Go into your chamber, Fitzwilliam. I will come and tell you when she has gone.” With that, he stole through the connecting door as I slid off the bed and made some effort to straighten my skirts. Jane entered, and as her eye passed over me to my bare feet, and the discarded slippers, and stockings on the floor, she blushed.
“Oh, I am sorry, Lizzy, I should not have come. I…I just had to tell you. I could not sleep without telling you. Mr Bingley has asked for my hand, Lizzy!”
“Oh, Jane!” I embraced her and kissed her cheek, my bare toes and rumpled appearance quite forgotten in my joy at her news.
“He will follow us to Hertfordshire the day after tomorrow and, when he is arrived at Netherfield, call upon Papa directly! Oh, Lizzy, I can scarcely credit that things would end in this happy way!”
“Well, I am not at all surprised. Did I not say it would be so? But how shall you keep this to yourself before he calls at Longbourn? You shall go distracted with the effort!”
Jane confessed that she had not thought of that, and we spoke of many things—of church bells, and wedding breakfasts, and the giddiness of love. By the time she left, completely fatigued by excitement and the lateness of the hour, I was conscious that my husband had been waiting far longer than he may have anticipated. I found him slumped in a chair by his bed, ostentatiously fingering a book, which I knew he was not reading.
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, you will never guess Jane’s news!”
“I imagine that I will, Elizabeth. Bingley has asked her to marry him.”
“Is it not wonderful? I am overjoyed for her.”
I could see at a glance that Fitzwilliam was not as overwhelmed as I. Knowing he was still smarting from his unceremonious ejection from my chamber and suddenly desirous of his touch, I sat upon his lap and kissed his face by the light of the moon.
***
The mortification and embarrassment of my visit to the home of Mrs Lovelace prayed heavily on my mind, and for that reason, I petitioned my husband for us to visit her once more, this time together. I tackled him on the matter one afternoon as we completed our luncheon. We sat at right angles on the corner of the dining room table, empty plates and drained glasses between us. Fitzwilliam was most reluctant for such a meeting to occur. I believe he had hoped I would change my mind.
“You must understand there is no need for this escapade, Elizabeth. I am quite sure Esther was not offended and…well, I would not wish you to make yourself uncomfortable or to remind yourself of that dreadful day and how you must have felt. I would rather leave the matter alone.”
“I cannot really countenance that, Fitzwilliam. After all, I did descend upon her home without invitation or introduction when you were there on a private matter. It was terribly rude. Heaven knows how I appeared to her, and I felt she was quite gracious under the circumstances. I feel I ought to see her again to make my peace and to ensure she knows I bear her no ill will. She and her daughters are your family, after all, if not your legitimate one. I would not wish to become a problem between you, even an unspoken one.”
“You are astonishing, Elizabeth. You amaze me, my love. Many, I may say most, married women would not take that attitude. Do you realise that?”
I sighed and straightened my knife and fork on my plate. The truth of his words, I knew very well. Scandal had long arms, and Mrs Lovelace had been embroiled in scandal for almost all of her adult life. I doubted whether my mother or my aunts would wish to take tea with a woman who had lived unmarried with a man for twenty years and borne him three children. I knew they would not. I thought of Mrs Lovelace’s jittery f
ingers over her embroidery and the fluttering hands of Mrs Woodham and suddenly understood these were women who suffered greatly at the hands of society’s disapproval.
I placed my hand over my husband’s and answered him. “Yes I do, but she is an old lady. It would surely be wrong to treat her with anything less than civility because she was a man’s mistress in her youth. Is to understand all not to forgive all?”
“It lasted two decades, Elizabeth. Many people die before they have been married for twenty years. It was a long time. Its legacy is that most respectable people will have nothing to do with her. She has money, and she has the girls, but she wants for society in general. Frankly, she is a social outsider. Esther did not look for scandal; it happened to her. And once it had started, it could not be stopped. She is a prisoner of her history, so I think she would very much like to know you. But I will not have you feeling obliged, and I will not encourage them in this quest for the girls to know Georgiana.”
I considered this silently for a moment. My own view was that, as she grew older, Georgiana ought to know of her sisters, but Fitzwilliam was excessively protective of her. He seemed determined to keep her in a state of childlike ignorance of the world, which I thought ill advised and doomed to failure. After all, Georgiana would be coming out herself next year. How could she be shielded from the ways of the world and closed off from gossiping tongues?
“Well, it need be just a short visit—only Mrs Lovelace, you, and I. Would that satisfy your scruples, sir?”
“I expect it must. I do not believe you will take no for an answer in this, Elizabeth; am I right?”
“You are, I am afraid.” I rose from my seat and kissed him lightly on the cheek by way of thanks for his indulgence. I buttered a piece of bread and cut it on my plate, silver tinkling on pretty china. There were no servants in the room, and I saw my chance. “Fitzwilliam, did your mother know?”
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