Suddenly Mrs. Darcy

by Jenetta James

  “Your cousin? What did he have to do with it?”

  “I sent him a message to meet me at the White Hart, and he was very useful. He could have arrested Wickham on the spot for desertion, and of course, he also has the right connections in the military to obtain this commission in Newcastle.”

  “How fortunate; although, I am embarrassed the colonel should be involved, but I am glad that he was helpful.”

  “He was, but of course, Elizabeth, it was gratifying to him, too. He is also Georgiana’s guardian, and he has been waiting for his revenge on Wickham for too long. He was only too happy to assist.”

  “What shall we say to Georgiana?”

  “Well, I think she should return to Pemberley straightaway with Mrs Annesley; we can follow later. As for this business with Wickham, well, should we not just tell her your sister is to marry Wickham tomorrow, they are to live far away, and leave it at that? What is your opinion?”

  “I agree, but I think we should approach her together and assure her that Wickham will never come to Pemberley or Darcy House. She may occasionally be faced with Lydia, but rarely.”

  “Yes, Elizabeth, that sounds wise. Let us say that.”

  The marriage, which took place on the morrow, was an odd affair. After the bride and groom, only Papa, Aunt, Uncle, Mr Darcy, and I were present. We clustered at the front of the cavernous, city church like tea leaves. The vows were spoken to my uncle’s rector, the register signed, and we were away. I took pity on my poor husband and did not insist we stay at my aunt and uncle’s house for supper with the newlyweds. I took the view that he had been in company with Mr Wickham far more than was fair already. For myself, I was ashamed to think of the feelings I once had for my sister’s husband. In the dusty light of the church, he seemed so diminished from the man I saw before my marriage. When he bowed low to me, held out his hand and said, “Sister,” I saw in his eyes all of the obsequious deception and villainy that must have been there from the beginning. I could not regret our departure.

  Hannah, having unpacked all of my belongings on the day we should have departed, packed them all again a se’nnight later. Given the choice, we would have departed for Pemberley directly after Lydia’s wedding, but we knew the newlyweds wished to call at Longbourn on their way north, and we did not wish to be in company with them when we stopped in Hertfordshire. As it was, our extra days in town passed reasonably quickly. The heat of the summer had begun to wane. We dined with Colonel Fitzwilliam and his brother. I walked with my husband in Hyde Park, and we attended the theatre, where we kept largely to ourselves. We lay beside one another, hand in hand, living together like the strands of a knot.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The cool September air of Hertfordshire was a tonic indeed, and my heart sang to return to my childhood home in much happier circumstances than I had departed it. The soft hills on the edge of the fen country hummed with the activity of the harvest. The villages along the road passed us in a blur of familiar inns, cottages, and carts. Our carriage clattered into Meryton on market day, and all was as it should be, bustling and singing with the rhythms of ordinary life. It had been decided, after great cogitation, that we would stay our three nights in the neighbourhood at Longbourn rather than Netherfield. We did not have Georgiana with us, and with both Mary and Lydia married and from home, there was plenty of room, and the society of Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst at Netherfield was not to be compared to Jane’s at Longbourn. I believe Fitzwilliam was anxious I should be as happy as may be on this visit, and so he himself suggested this plan. He put on his most forbearing expression and assured me it was no sacrifice to him, and he would take cover in my father’s library if the need arose. These preliminaries agreed, I had written to Mama, and three hours after leaving London, we rattled through the gates and down the dusty drive to Longbourn. What remained of my girlhood family gathered at the door to greet us. Mama flapped her handkerchief, Papa peered over his eyeglass, and Jane and Kitty, arm in arm stood behind with broad smiles.

  Mama took me aside almost as soon as we arrived. “Lizzy,” she whispered in a manner that was anything but quiet. “Will you come aside? I would have a private word with you.”

  “Coming, Mama,” said I, handing my bonnet to Hill.

  “Lizzy, you look very well, girl. I am pleased to see it. I must speak to you about sleeping arrangements for I must have Mr Darcy as comfortable as possible. Now, I can offer him the spare bedroom we keep for best, and you may have Mary’s room if that is agreeable. Kitty was going to move into it, but she has not done so yet. Of course, if you think he would be better off in Jane’s room, then I can evict her for the time you are here. It is a larger room after all and has a lovely view of the garden, but the bed in the spare is better. I thought I would leave it up to you since you know his tastes.”

  “The spare will be fine, Mama. I am sure Mr Darcy will be quite comfortable. But Mama, there is no need for me to separate. I do not want Hill and Sarah to waste time making up the bed in Mary’s room. I can…well…I can sleep in with Mr Darcy.”

  She looked troubled—trapped between the titillating notion that my husband and I kept to one bed after nine months of marriage and the fear of offending him by not offering enough comfort. “I see, well, as long as you are sure, Lizzy. He will not think less of us, I hope, for not providing a suite of rooms for you.”

  “No, he will not, Mama. Please, do not trouble yourself about it. We will be very comfortable.”

  It occurred to me to say that, if Mr Darcy had a low opinion of her, it certainly was not by reason of her arrangements for guests, which were always generous and thoughtful. Her manner of obtaining husbands for her daughters, I knew to be quite another matter, but I forwent commenting on it. This detail being settled, we joined the others in the drawing room where I found, to my astonishment, Fitzwilliam conversing with Kitty. Her bobbing and blinking spoke of her nerves to be so singled out, and as I approached, I heard him suggest that she would enjoy visiting Bakewell when she stays with us in Derbyshire. She looked to me as a drowning woman may look to a life raft and extended a cup of tea in my direction with a wobbly hand.

  “Ahh, Lizzy, Mr Darcy has invited me to Pemberley! I should love to come if it is no trouble to you. Shall there be balls?”

  “Erm, well, there may be, Kitty, yes. We shall have to see. You will enjoy it even if there are none, I am sure. Mr Darcy’s sister, Miss Darcy, is almost exactly your age.”

  At this moment, Papa announced his intention to retire to his library, and Mama suggested to Kitty that Mr Darcy and I be allowed our privacy to change and rest after our journey. Kitty, who had scarce finished her tea, pinned my elbow as we left the room and frantically asked in a whisper, “Is it true you have your own lady’s maid, Lizzy?” I nodded discreetly and thought to myself that the education of my sister Kitty in the ways of dignified behaviour might be a long process.

  When Fitzwilliam and I closed the door of the spare bedroom, we found Hannah within, hanging my gowns in the closet. “Thank you, Hannah, you are a wonder.”

  “You are welcome, madam. I assume you will wish to change out of your travelling dress, but do you think you will wish to change again for dinner?”

  I thought, not for the first time, how Hannah was a girl of true manners and perceptiveness.

  “Thank you, Hannah. As you have rightly guessed, we do not dress for dinner here. My day dress will be fine for the evening. I will dress for dinner tomorrow night when we dine at Netherfield and also the night after when guests are expected to dine here. When we are between ourselves, we are a little more informal, but thank you for thinking of it.”

  With this, she scurried out of the room with my green day dress draped over her arm, no doubt in search of a press. I went directly to my husband and threw my arms around his neck. “Sir, did I hear you invite Kitty to Pemberley and offer her day trips to Bakewell? Are
you feeling quite well?”

  “Well, I thought I may as well begin as I meant to go on. I must say, she seemed rather anxious about it. I thought she would enjoy Bakewell.”

  “I think she would if there were dancing to be had there! Thank you, Fitzwilliam; you are very kind, but you are allowed to be taciturn and aloof sometimes as well. After all, it is what people expect of you if you do not want them to become discomforted by your affability!”

  I went to kiss him, and he met me with a friendly nip at which I laughed. “What did your mother want to speak to you about?”

  “Our bedroom arrangements.”

  “Please tell me that is not true.”

  “Well,” I said between kisses, “it is true, but I am teasing. She worried we ought to be offered two bedrooms and mithered over which two would be most appropriate. She is very anxious you should be comfortable, Mr Darcy, and she will not have you unsatisfactorily accommodated. Me, she does not care about at all. I told her one room would be quite enough. I hope I was not hasty?”

  This question he did not dignify with an answer, and we passed a happy half hour, kissing on the counterpane. It was strange to think of my girlhood bed on the other side of the wall. Longbourn felt to me like an old friend who was no longer a best friend. I knew the ways of the house, and it had no surprises or discomforts. But it was no longer my home. My home was with Fitzwilliam, and I aspired to no other.

  “I hope you will be all right at Longbourn, Fitzwilliam. I had forgotten how small this room is, and, well, if you find yourself excessively confined, tell me, and we shall walk out.”

  “You worry too much, Elizabeth. I shall be well. And your family are not as overbearing to me as you seem to think. After Lady Catherine’s idea of hospitality, I can hardly play the critic, can I? In any case, Netherfield was the alternative. Had we stayed there, we would have had to contend with Caroline, and we both know what a trial she can be.” He tightened his grip on my waist and kissed my neck. “I must admit that I have long considered the merits of bedding you at Netherfield, where I first desired you, against the merits of bedding you here, where you grew into a woman and lived as a maiden. And, well, although I would ideally like to do both, I prefer it here.”

  “Mr Darcy, you are a scandal. I hope you do not expect your conjugal rights these three nights, for how could I with my parents in such close quarters?” I teased as his kisses reached my bosom and beyond.

  It was a couple of hours hence when we emerged, changed and little rested.

  ***

  Our supper that evening was a quiet affair. Mama had been an assiduous researcher of my husband’s favoured dishes and produced an excellent venison which we all loved. Excepting a couple of queries as to the size and number of various rooms at Pemberley, she surprised me with her restraint. She asked Mr Darcy about his sister and our neighbours in Derbyshire, saying my account of the Standenton Park ball had stirred her envy. She trained a sharp eye on him, seeing a man of great consequence whom she should not offend. She knew not his honourable and loving nature, but it occurred to me, as I considered him across the dining table, that only I knew the very best of him, and in many ways, that was as it should be. Jane and Kitty sat opposite each other. They were an odd couple to be the last of us at home, and no person of our acquaintance would ever have predicted Jane should remain a maiden after Lydia, Mary, and I were married.

  Needless to say, plans for Jane’s nuptials dominated much of the meal. For a wedding fixed for two months’ hence, Mama had been hard at work, planning her trip to town, gathering cuttings, and pestering our aunt Gardiner about new warehouses. The wedding breakfast was a source of strain for the servants already; as for lace, ribbon, bonnets, and slipper roses, there was much to be said. Mama talked, Jane blushed, and Kitty’s mind raced to keep up with the instructions Mama barked at her. Kitty was, I believe, broken-hearted to have missed Lydia’s wedding. Had she known what a tawdry and empty affair it had been, she may have saved her tears. Her position as Jane’s only bridesmaid, I hoped would console her. It did not escape my attention that Papa said little. He sat at the end of the table, turning his knife in his hand and looking solemn. He was not a man to be interested in wedding celebrations, and yet I knew there was more to his silence than Mama’s prattling.

  Later, we retired to the drawing room whilst Papa and Fitzwilliam retreated to the library. Later still, we all retired to bed. Fitzwilliam stayed downstairs reading while Hannah dressed me for bed. Barefoot, hair loose and in my nightgown, I padded next door to Jane to say goodnight, almost like old times.

  “Come in,” she said; I peeked around the door, finding her in the middle of our bed with a cup of hot milk.

  The floorboards in various parts of the house creaked and moaned with the sound of my family about its collective ablutions. Through the walls, I heard Mama exclaiming to Hill on some domestic matter and Kitty dropping her water jug. “I came to say goodnight and sweet dreams.” I closed the door and sat upon the bed with my sister.

  “It is lovely to be here and to see you looking so happy. I should have hated to miss all of your wedding preparations, and as it is, Mama has done her best in a single supper to keep us abreast of developments!” We laughed as we always did when we were together.

  “Yes, she has certainly done her best. I hope Mr Darcy was not too overwhelmed.”

  “Oh, I think it takes more than Mama to overwhelm Mr Darcy. I believe he is quite unscathed. I am more concerned about Papa. He was so grave and silent. He was not himself at all. He appeared even more severe than he had in London when he came to find Lydia. Tell me, how was the stay of Mr and Mrs Wickham?”

  “Well, they stayed for four days, and the time passed peacefully. Mayhap at times, they were a little embarrassing, but that is all.”

  “Embarrassing? Lydia? Surely not!”

  “Well, she was most particular to be treated as a married woman by us all, and with my engagement being known by the time they arrived, I am afraid to say she rather singled me out for marital advice. She gave me a most awful account of her private relations with Mr Wickham as I shudder to recall. She made it sound so dreadful that I can hardly even look at Mr Bingley.”

  “Poor Jane, I shall have to correct that. What about Mr Wickham?”

  “Well, he was all agreeableness, to be sure. He was most attentive, making time even for Kitty and complimenting Mama on dinner. He was well behaved, but in company, he always was. I could not help but think he was not quite his old self. I saw him looking at Lydia as she talked and talked, and there was a sort of resignation in his eyes. I wonder whether he has been sobered by events. I believe we must hope that he really loves her.”

  “Yes, we must hope. But whether we can believe it, is another matter. Did he talk with Papa while he was here? I was shocked that Papa received them at all, I must admit.”

  “I do not believe he intended to, but Mama greatly desired it, and in the end, she prevailed. Papa and Mr Wickham spoke a little, but not at any great length as far as I know. Mr Wickham, as you know, has always been a man for the ladies. He is happy in the drawing room amidst the talk of fashions and assemblies where Papa is not. But there certainly appeared to be no ill feeling between them. I caught Papa chuckling on occasion when Mr Wickham made a joke. Apart from the embarrassment occasioned by their being here, there were no vexations attached to the visit.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” said I, smiling and lying down on the folded counterpane beside my sister. “Now, I believe some practical marital advice is required.” And so, we kept company long into my first night back at Longbourn. Jane’s big blue eyes looked about, and she admitted to great foreboding. She confided that Mr Bingley had kissed her on the lips and stroked her ungloved hands on their walks. I told her she had had far more affection from him than I had from Mr Darcy before we married, and she must look upon this as a good sig
n. Mr Bingley, I was confident, had a warm and loving nature to match her own. I did my best to assure her with respect to her wedding night that she had nothing to fear. It was a challenge to do so without betraying too much of the passion of my nights with Mr Darcy. Indeed, I thought of the glorious power and soft, tender moments of his love, and I realised they were quite beyond description.

  By the time I left Jane and returned to my chamber, I found Fitzwilliam abed and barely awake. “I thought you had deserted me, Elizabeth.”

  “Never, sir,” I said as I crawled in beside him.

  ***

  The next morning we were joined by Mr Bingley who, having paid every civility to Jane, Mama, Kitty and me, went out for a ride with Fitzwilliam. After a polite period of chatter and embroidery with my mother and sisters, I excused myself and knocked on Papa’s library door.

  “Enter.”

  “Good morning, Papa. Do you welcome visitors at this hour?”

  He put down his paper and adjusted his eyeglass. “Well, well. Yes, Lizzy. Come in.” I thanked him and sat down on my favoured chair, expecting our conversation to flow as it always had. I was not to be satisfied for, after a period of awkward remarks on the season and enquiries as to one another’s comfort, we were locked into silence. I selected a book of poems and sought to pass some time with it. Papa returned to his paper and then appeared to put it aside in favour of a novel. He did not tell me, as he might have done in the past, what he was reading. It seemed to me only candour would do.