Darcy and Elizabeth--A Most Unlikely Couple

by Brenda J. Webb

  A book was lying open on the top of the bookcase, and, curious to learn about the resident, Elizabeth picked it up. It was a copy of her favourite poetry by Thomas Moore, and the notion that they might share the same taste in literature proved somewhat unsettling. It was even more disconcerting to find William’s name written inside the front cover in his elegant script. She ran a finger over it reverently before placing it where she had found it. Downcast, she was about to quit the room when she noticed something white tucked under a pillow on the settee. Uncovering it, she discovered a delicate shawl. Holding it aloft to admire the intricately knitted pattern, without thinking she flipped it over her head in one smooth motion. It came to rest on her shoulders, leaving a familiar scent in the air. Elizabeth recognised it straightaway—lavender.

  Leaving the parlour, she glanced to her left. The dining room consisted of a round table and two chairs, with a small chandelier hanging overhead. Each chair was upholstered with dark blue fabric and embroidered with colourful flowers. The same fabric had been employed for the tablecloth, and the colours were repeated in an oriental rug beneath. The walls sported two plaster sconces holding vases of dried flowers and candles. Deciding there was nothing extraordinary about this area Elizabeth went to inspect the bedroom.

  Elegantly carved woodwork defined that room, which was painted white from floor to ceiling. Even the furniture was white, howbeit with a striking gold trim. The curtains and counterpane were of gold damask, while a gold and red print fabric covered the pillows on the bed. Though the room was stunning, Elizabeth’s curiosity about the resident of the house outweighed everything. So when she spied several items on a tray on the bedside table, she rushed to sit on the edge of the bed to better examine them.

  A wooden tray carved in an oriental design held a bottle of perfume, a mirror with an oak handle, a brush and a comb. Taking the bottle, she removed the stopper and brought it to her nose. Lavender! I was right.

  Putting the bottle aside, the brush caught her eye. Picking it up to investigate more closely, she found several dark hairs still in the bristles. Numbly, Elizabeth placed it on the tray and opened the table drawer. Inside was a leather-covered box. She withdrew it, setting it in her lap and lifting the lid. She discovered a bracelet fashioned out of small beads, strung on a string and tied clumsily. Clearly something created by a child, she absently slipped it over her wrist to find that it fit perfectly. Hurriedly, she returned it to the box and put the box back in the drawer.

  Noting that the mantle over the hearth held several small portraits, she walked in that direction and her foot collided with something sticking out from under the chair. Leaning down, a new pain pricked Elizabeth’s heart, for, there was a pair of boots that perfectly matched those William wore every day. Refusing to dwell on the implications, she went on to the hearth.

  Noting that all of the portraits were encased in ornate, silver frames, she began her study with the first in a line. It was the image of a boy of perhaps four years of age with dark hair, piercing blue eyes and a decided frown. She almost chuckled, for the subject of the portrait was obvious. Still, her forehead knit with concern when she realised that this portrait suggested William had been sad, even as a child. Unsettled, she placed it on the mantel and picked up the next.

  A little girl with golden curls, clutching a doll, smiled back at her. Georgiana looked about three years of age, but she was centuries removed from the cynical sister Elizabeth had met in London. Wondering what could have caused so drastic a change in her, Elizabeth set that portrait back as well.

  Her breath caught when she spied the next portrait. For it was of a beautiful woman, perhaps four and twenty years of age, with dark blue eyes and black hair. Is the hair in the brush hers?

  Taking the portrait to a window, she drew back the curtain until light illuminated the features. And as a prayer rose to heaven, Elizabeth searched for any resemblance to William.

  A voice abruptly ended her deliberations. “How did you get in here?”

  Startled, Elizabeth whirled around to find William in the doorway. Knowing how appalling her trespass must appear, her mind went blank.

  Clearly annoyed, he continued, “That door is always locked. So I ask again, how did you get in?”

  “It... it was not locked today.”

  “Then I shall have to have a stern talk with the sentry for this area. He keeps check on the house and apparently forgot to lock it.”

  William stared at her as though expecting something more. Suddenly remembering the shawl and the portrait in her hand, Elizabeth became mortified. Hurriedly, she returned to the mantel to replace the portrait and whipped off the shawl.

  “Please forgive me,” she said as she held the shawl toward William. “I should not have intruded.”

  “This house is kept private.” William replied, as he took the shawl and folded it reverently. Then his eyes roamed over the bedroom, as though taking in every inch of it. “For now, I do not want to discuss why.”

  “As you wish.”

  William stepped back into the hall and motioned for her to go ahead of him. As she entered the hall, he began to follow her to the front entrance and address another matter.

  “Finding a pony on so vast an estate as Pemberley is best left to the men I pay to do such things. You could get lost in certain areas, not to mention encountering poachers and such. In taking matters into your hands, you have worried a number of people unnecessarily.”

  “I only meant to be of help,” she said dejectedly.

  “Sometimes being helpful means letting the servants do their jobs,” he said flatly, as they exited the front door. Then turning to lock it, he added, “We must hurry. It will be dark soon.”

  “What of the pony? Should we not take her back to the Beckers?”

  “We shall take her with us to Pemberley. A groom will deliver her to them in the morning. For now, I do not want my aunt worrying about your safety a moment longer.”

  “I apologise if my actions caused Aunt Olivia or anyone else to worry for me. It was not consciously done.”

  Still out of sorts, William stalked off to fetch Phoebe and Star. Bringing them to the front of the house, he helped Elizabeth into the saddle and then mounted Zeus, leaving Star to trail behind them. The sun had already set, and it was dark when they reached the circular drive of Pemberley and footmen rushed out to take their horses. Nonetheless, because the Fitzwilliams had insisted on delaying dinner, William and Elizabeth were able to dine with them.

  IMMEDIATELY AFTER DINNER, Joseph Fitzwilliam declared that the events of the day had been exhausting and he wished to retire early. Olivia knew that he claimed as much just to spare her, for, in truth, her health was the reason he wanted to retire. In any case, they said goodnight to the young couple and exited the dining room.

  After they did, Elizabeth’s eyes flickered to William. He had closed his eyes, she assumed from weariness, as he sipped the last of a glass of wine. That gave her the rare opportunity of studying his features without his notice. Even though he was tired, he was so very handsome that her heart ached.

  With nothing to lose, she spoke with hurried eagerness. “The library here is spectacular. I have never seen so many books in one place; however, I have been so busy with other things that I have neglected exploring it fully.”

  William’s eyes opened. “There is no reason you cannot spend the rest of the evening in the library. I dare say that you will not be disturbed.”

  “But, I... I thought to share the evening with you.”

  “Elizabeth, I have had a trying day. I seek only a hot bath to relieve my ankle and some sleep.”

  “But you were walking so well today that I thought perhaps your ankle—”

  “It still pains me,” he interrupted. “I try not to complain, lest others worry unnecessarily. Now, if you will excuse me, Adams has a hot bath waiting, and I imagine he would like to retire at a reasonable hour.” He stood up, dropping his serviette on the table. “I hope you enjo
y the library.”

  Her hopes fell as she watched him walk away.

  THE NEXT MORNING

  As Mrs. Reynolds crossed the foyer toward the dining room, she was surprised to find William’s aunt coming down the grand staircase. Having a weak constitution, Mrs. Fitzwilliam was not usually awake at dawn and the fact that she was not accompanied by her husband left the servant wondering if something was wrong. Regardless, she greeted her cheerily, hoping that was not the case.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Are you ready to break your fast?”

  “Good morning,” Olivia parroted. “I am not hungry just yet. Actually, I hoped to speak to Mrs. Darcy before she left for the day. Have I been successful?”

  “Mrs. Darcy just finished eating and went upstairs to her study. She said that she wanted to fetch a basket she had left there.”

  “Then I need to hurry.” With that, Mrs. Fitzwilliam went back up the stairs to find Elizabeth.

  When she reached the door to Elizabeth’s study, Olivia was surprised to find it open. Her niece stood at the windows, holding a letter in her hand and staring at the lawn below as though in a trance. Olivia watched her for a while before calling her name.

  Elizabeth’s head swung around, and, seeing who it was, she pushed the letter deep into her pocket and smiled wanly. “Aunt Olivia, you startled me.”

  “I am sorry. I hope I am not intruding.”

  “No, not at all.”

  Olivia pulled the door shut behind her. “I hoped to catch you before you left the house. I feel that I must address something that has been worrying me.”

  One of Elizabeth’s brows rose in question. “Oh?”

  “Yes. I am beginning to fear for your health, my dear. Since my nephew returned, I have not seen you stroll around the lake even once. And while I commend your diligence to your duties as mistress of this house, I fear that you are trying to match Fitzwilliam’s long hours.” Elizabeth’s expression fell at the mention of William. “You will soon exhaust yourself at this pace.”

  “I like to keep long hours. It takes my mind off the fact that my husband is gone from sunrise to sunset.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  “I... I suppose that a surfeit of estate problems cropped up in his absence.”

  “Perhaps they have, but consider this. Fitzwilliam pays his steward a good salary to oversee Pemberley. Other than something he might have to witness in person in order to make an informed decision, he gives orders and Mr. Sturgis carries them out. That is how a man of his station conducts business. For the most part, Pemberley’s affairs can be handled from Fitzwilliam’s study or via post when he is out of town.”

  Meeting her aunt’s eyes, Elizabeth looked like a child caught in a lie. “Then I have no idea why he is gone all day.”

  Olivia walked over to Elizabeth, reaching out to gently cup her face. “I think you know very well, but you are afraid to admit it to me or anyone else. I promise not to judge you, if you want to tell me what is wrong. I dearly want to help, but I cannot, for I do not know what has made you and my nephew so very unhappy.”

  Her tender gesture caused Elizabeth to break down and sob. Olivia pulled her into an embrace, holding her until she stopped crying and began to wipe her eyes. Then they sat down, and Olivia heard the entire story of how her nephew and niece met and all that had transpired until the present. For a few seconds after Elizabeth had finished, Olivia was speechless, and then, taking both her niece’s hands, she smiled at her lovingly.

  “Mistakes were made, but it is not the end of the world. I happen to know that my nephew would never have married a woman for whom he felt no attraction. And no matter how hard he tries to feign indifference, I have seen the longing in Fitzwilliam’s eyes when he thinks no one is watching.”

  “Longing? For me?” Elizabeth said, her voice breaking with emotion.

  “Yes, my dear, for you.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hands. “As long as a man still desires a woman, there is hope.”

  “The letter I was holding when you came into the room is from Aunt Madeline. She asks if I have spent time in William’s company, and it pains me to confess to her that I have not been successful.”

  “How I wish Madeline had returned to Pemberley before leaving for London. Perhaps then, you or she might have confided in me.”

  “Their sudden return to London was unavoidable, as my uncle had a crisis with one of his suppliers.”

  “I completely understand. Still, I cannot help thinking that I would have known all of this sooner.” She sighed. “In any event, now that I know, the question is what shall we do about it?”

  “I fear there is nothing anyone can do. Last night, after you retired, I hinted that I wanted William to spend time with me in the library, but he refused. I cannot say that he was not tired, for that was evident. Even so, each day that goes by takes him one step farther away from me.”

  “Oh, Elizabeth, try not to think in that vein. The Lord helps those who have faith. We shall both continue to pray and believe.”

  “I try, but each day brings new doubts. Something I stumbled upon yesterday made me wonder if I am being foolish to think I can still win his love.”

  “What did you find?”

  “While looking for the pony, I discovered a small, brick house on the far side of Pemberley. Plainly, it has been kept up and it was fashioned for a woman. It is just—well, Fitzwilliam’s cologne was in the air, and boots like those he wears daily were in the bedroom. And a book, with his name in the front, lay open. And while I firmly believe that he is not the type to take a mistress, when Fitzwilliam found me there, he acted as though I had intruded into a private sanctuary. He made it clear that he would not explain anything about the house, and I was not to question him about it.”

  “Hmmm. Perhaps Joseph can learn something from my nephew about the house. I am certain it is not what you fear.”

  “Oh, please do not jeopardise your relationship for my sake! William made it clear the house was not to be discussed. Besides, he would know that I was the one who told you. So do not mention it, I beg you.”

  “As you wish, though Joseph talks to the gardeners, sentries and such, so he may be able to learn something without Fitzwilliam’s knowledge.”

  “Uncle Joseph must be discreet with his enquires, for it would further damage my husband’s opinion of me if he thought I was using you to find out about the house.”

  “I concur. Now, will you allow me to share what you have told me with Joseph? He will be your ally, I promise. He is just as anxious to see your marriage flourish as I am.”

  “I suppose it makes no difference now.”

  “Good. Once Joseph knows everything, he can best determine how to talk with Fitzwilliam. Perhaps he can help him to see that felicity in marriage is always salvageable where there is love—and I am certain that he loves you.”

  “Would that I believed that,” Elizabeth whispered. Then she forced a small smile as she stood to her feet. “There is much to do, and I must get started.”

  “Oh, I forgot.” Olivia pulled a small knitted cap from her pocket. It was white with a blue ribbon threaded around the edges. “I finally finished this to go with the sweater I made for Mrs. Becker’s baby. If you are visiting her, will you take it?”

  “I shall stop by to see how she fares and will be happy to give it to her. My intention today is to visit two tenants who were poorly when I last called on them—Mrs. Brown, who suffers with persistent headaches, and Mrs. Walters, who strained her back and can barely walk. She is fortunate that she has such a large family to help her, allowing for rest.

  “As you probably know, Mrs. Reynolds has recipes for every imaginable ailment, so I have packed plenty of her salves, tinctures and powders for them, as well as cakes and biscuits for the children. While I am there, I shall list all the children’s measurements. That is something I wish I had thought of the last time I called on all the tenants.”

  “What are you planning?�
�

  “I am compiling a list for Christmas. I want to give all the children a new pair of shoes from the cobbler’s shop in Lambton, as well as a new coat. I sewed coats for little girls when I lived at home, and Mrs. O’Reilly said that she has made coats for her nephews. She is excited about helping me. Even Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Lantrip said that they would like to help. I think I shall need them all, if I am to get everything finished in time.”

  “You can rely on me, you know that. And Mrs. Kelly, who acts as my lady’s maid, may no longer be young, but she can stitch a seam straighter than most. I think she would be delighted if she were asked to help.”

  Elizabeth hugged her aunt. “I depend on you so much. You are too kind.”

  “No one can be too kind to another person. I have lived long enough to know that kindness always comes back to bless the one who gives it freely.”

  “Oh, and I forgot. Mrs. Samson, who runs the foundlings’ home in Lambton, sent a letter asking me to visit. So I shall call on her. It seems my husband built the home, and every year he makes certain that the children are not forgotten at Christmas. She has made a list of their needs and wanted to give it to me in person.” Elizabeth shook her head dolefully. “What does that say about my judgement? I was so foolish that I deliberately chose to think ill of a man who is practically a saint!”

  Olivia chuckled. “I assure you that I know him better than you, and while he is kind-hearted, Fitzwilliam is no saint! Have you not experienced enough of his temper to realise that?”