by J Dawn King
“I suppose.”
“Cousin, she’s a pretty little thing I would marry in a minute if she wasn’t already yours.” His cousin was growing angry, and Darcy wasn’t pleased with the subject or with his response. “This is completely unlike you, Will. I’ve never known you to feel sorry for yourself. What is caught in your craw that’s making you act like a caged polecat?”
“My leg is broken, and I’m stuck in here for the next three months. I’m unable to oversee the harvest, the timber operation, and my investments. I have a new bride who has to bathe me, hold a pan while I spit in it after cleaning my teeth, and tend to my most personal needs. She grew up in a house full of people in a city surrounded by parks and shops and things to do. I’ve isolated her so that she was unable to attend church and has only been to town one time since our marriage.” Darcy’s frustration grew with each word. “Before we married, she wrote the most beautiful letters to my closest friend outside of you, Rich, letters filled with intelligence and kindness and everything sublime. Yet, other than sitting alongside my bed to read aloud to me, she says nothing. Absolutely not one word.”
“Do you speak to her?”
“About what?”
Richard dropped his head and ran his hands through his hair. “Are you truly that clueless, cousin?”
“Well, apparently you think you know it all, so out with it.” Even he heard the sarcasm. He was not in the mood for this and wanted to be left alone to ponder the mess that had become his life.
“Okay, fine. I will tell you.” Richard looked at him without blinking. “The men you hold in esteem and seek to emulate, our grandfather and your father, were both hardworking, ambitious men. Yet, neither of them were good husbands nor were their homes happy homes. They solely sought their own desires and didn’t give a hoot how their wishes affected their families.”
Darcy started to speak and Richard, again, held up his hand to stop him.
“I can see you are angry and that’s too bad. If you step back and look at things as they really were, you would realize I’m telling the truth. Your dad spent more time and attention on Wickham than he did with his own two children. Like his dad before him, he ignored the fact that his wife came from a situation just like Elizabeth. Your mother was one of the loveliest women I ever knew, Will, but her melancholy from loneliness and isolation, in my opinion, hastened her death. Even at fourteen, I noted her sorrow.”
Darcy felt like he had been slapped. He had spent a lifetime trying to be just like his father. It was expected of him. Yet, Richard’s comments about Anne Darcy were accurate. As a young boy, he had striven to ease her way and bring her joy. She did find delight in her child, he had no doubt. But he remembered the look of hurt on her face when Wickham was constantly thrust to the forefront and when George Darcy chose to spend his time with the boy rather than his family.
“I…you have given me much to think upon.”
“I could only say it because you can’t run after me and beat me to a pulp.”
Both men appreciated the humor. They had always been evenly matched when they had wrestled as youngsters.
Richard stood and extended his hand. Darcy readily shook it.
“I’ll see that Wickham’s gone from Pemberley.”
“I appreciate it.”
“And I’ll kiss your wife for you when I leave.”
“Richard!”
George Wickham seemed at his most pleasant when surrounded by others as he laughed and joked in a manner his fellow ranch hands easily responded to. She enjoyed listening to the flow of conversation at the table from her position at the stove. Talk had been jovial until Richard walked down the stairs and entered the dining room.
“Wickham!” Richard rudely interrupted the conversation. “As soon as you are done, gather your belongings. You too, Denny. Neither of you are needed here.”
Elizabeth watched the color drain from Wickham’s face as the color rose to a bright red in Darcy’s cousin’s. Since Richard had just come down from her husband’s room, it was evident that this was a decision both men had discussed.
John Reynolds nodded his head once, and Elizabeth knew she would be losing the only friend who had shown an interest in her personal happiness. She swallowed back her tears, sadness enveloping her at the loss. Then, she became angry. Bitterly so.
Once the men resumed eating, Richard moved to the head of the table, Darcy’s normal chair, to share the meal.
“Excuse me, Mr. Fitzwilliam, but you are sitting in my chair.” For the past five days, she had been caring for Darcy, she had cooked the meals and taken a tray upstairs. After Darcy consumed his hot food, she served herself from the little that remained. This would be her first time at the table since the accident. It may have been petty of her to enforce her authority, and he may be her husband’s favorite relative, but Richard Fitzwilliam was not in charge of her home.
She carefully set the platter of fried chicken on the table and then moved her hands to rest on her hips. Her gaze didn’t flinch when he looked at her in surprise. Tilting her head, she indicated a chair to the side of the table, directly across from Wickham. Then she seated herself, leaving Maggie to bring in the bowls of string beans, mashed potatoes, and gravy. The hot rolls, fresh blackberry jam, and churned butter were already in front of them.
No one said a word. Dan, Melvin, and Denny loaded their plates and bent their heads to their meals. Wickham glared at Richard, who refused to look anywhere but back at him. John Reynolds’ eyes glanced between the two men as Maggie stood next to him, one hand resting on his shoulder.
“Enough!” Elizabeth spoke quietly, yet the force of her tone was enough to draw all eyes to her. “We will eat at this table in a civilized manner, am I understood?”
Everyone nodded and quietly passed the food until each person had their fill. Maggie sat in the only vacant seat next to her husband, and she too served herself.
Until the plates were cleaned, the only noise was the scraping of forks, as it had been on her first day at Pemberley. She sighed in frustration and then stood and headed back to the kitchen. When she returned with a warm blackberry pie and ice cream she had spent the morning churning, Elizabeth plopped them down onto the table, shoving the empty bowls and platter aside.
Even though the men’s stomachs had to be close to bursting, the looks on Dan and Melvin’s faces made her smile. They were like hollow logs that constantly needed refilled. Using her knife, she marked the top of the pie into seven slices, six large pieces and one narrow slice. Dan, Melvin, Denny, Wickham, and the Reynolds’ received the fat portions heaped with vanilla ice cream which immediately started melting in the warmth. The final piece went to Richard.
“You will never disrupt my table again, Richard.”
A multitude of emotions flashed in his eyes as she stared him down from where she was standing. She would not bend. This was her house and these people needed to know her rules.
When dessert was done, the men seemed to want to sue for peace as each one gathered his plate and utensils to take them to the sink. Wickham stopped by where she was standing as if he was going to address her.
“Do as my husband demands, sir. Pack your things and leave,” she whispered quietly to him. Never would Elizabeth go behind Darcy’s back and disrespect his authority, especially in front of others. However, she quickly loaded a tray with the food she had held back from the meal and headed upstairs, determined that what she would not say behind his back would be said directly to his face.
Darcy must have heard her coming up the stairs as he was attempting to sit up and lean against his headboard as she came into the room. He was a grown man so she would not remind him of the strictures the doctor had given against any movement during the first week. A full seven days had not yet passed.
Waiting for him to settle, she impatiently tapped the toe of her right foot on the rug next to his bed. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow as Darcy grunted and grimaced from the pressure he was putting against hi
s injured shoulder to wedge himself into an upright position. She refused to help him disobey Dr. Henderson. His efforts were all his own.
Thrusting the tray into his hands, she raised the blankets at his feet to readjust the pillows so his broken leg was still elevated. Once finished, she moved the bedside chair until she was directly facing him.
“Did Richard leave?” he asked.
“As far as I know.”
“Did Wickham and Denny go with him?”
“As far as I know.” She wanted to cross her arms and lift her chin, but somehow knew he would not appreciate her defiance. Nevertheless, this did not keep her from getting right to the point. “Why is your sister being kept from you?”
Apparently it was not the subject Darcy had thought she would take up. His startled reaction almost upset his tray.
“Georgiana is not your concern.”
“You truly believe that to be so?”
“I do.” His voice was firm and Elizabeth had no doubt he was unused to his decisions being questioned.
“Am I correct in assuming it was your idea to keep her from her home? Did you do something to keep her from me?”
Darcy rebalanced his tray and sighed. “I asked Reynolds to write to my uncle to keep her in Portland. And it’s a good thing I did with you inviting Wickham to Pemberley. What in the world were you thinking, Elizabeth? You had no right to step in front of my foreman to hire ranch hands. That clearly falls under my authority and the only one on this property I’ve approved to act in my place is John.”
“I refuse to address my action to hire Mr. Wickham and Mr. Denny, as it was done with good intentions.”
“How can bringing those two outcasts to my home be a good intention? You have no idea what kind of men they are. There’s a reason no one else has taken them on.”
“You are correct. I have no idea because you don’t talk to me. You don’t speak to me of your plans for Pemberley, you don’t talk of your concerns and dreams, and you don’t even thank me for cleaning you up and emptying your bed pan. You do and have done nothing for me, Will Darcy, except entice me from my home and the people I loved and who loved me.”
Her voice rose with her anger. “Oh, I am not saying you don’t make noise. In the in the middle of the night as I sit here to see to your comfort, it is my sister’s name you murmur, not mine.” By then, Elizabeth was standing, leaning over his bed, one hand fisted on her hip and the other fist waving in front of his face. Ire filled her chest until it threatened to rob her of her ability to breathe. “If I were any other woman, husband dear, I would wrap you in your sheet while you slept and beat you with my broomstick until your brain started to function properly. If I didn’t have enough self-respect to know my own value, I would have walked out of here the first time it happened and never looked back. As far as I’m concerned, you could lay in your stink for the next three months. I don’t care.”
Color filled her cheeks and her eyes were on fire. Darcy had never seen a woman as vibrant as his wife. Images of both his foreman and his cousin flashed through his mind, and he knew it was time to start making amends. Unfortunately, no instant solution came to him so he sat in stunned silence.
“Eat. Just eat.” Elizabeth moved away from the bed and walked to the window. Flicking aside the curtain, she put her hand on the cool glass pane. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You are disappointed you married me then?” For some reason, the thought hurt. Then it made him mad. How dare she be upset and bring up circumstances he had no control over?
“With every single breath I take, I wish I was still Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Elizabeth Bennet did not own enough property to support ten families and a house that is the envy of all our neighbors. You were lucky the day you accepted my ticket west.” He was proud of his position in the community. Businessmen and community leaders respected him. She was married to him. She should feel no less than others who had known him far longer.
“Lucky?” Her laugh was bitter. “You call it lucky to be attached to a man in love with my own sister? To someone who has no integrity or honor?” She turned back to him and swept her arms from side to side. “All of this is nothing. It is no more than a roof over my head and a pile of work and responsibility to benefit a man I do not respect. In every way, I wish I was not your wife.”
Had she plunged a knife into his gut, it would have hurt no less than hearing her regret at being attached to him. His pride in being the owner of prime timber holdings and one of the wealthiest men in Oregon City as well as the master of all you could see for four miles around meant nothing to the woman in front of him. Integrity? Honor? Completely forgetting the comments from John Reynolds, he eased his conscience knowing he had both in abundance. Surely, he could admit to himself that he had held onto his feelings for Jane Bennet—no, Jane Bingley, far too long. He was over it now.
“You have said enough, Elizabeth.”
“Do you really think so?” He flinched from her caustic tone. “For I believe I have only started. You see, Mr. Darcy, I kept my word. I kept my promises. Fool that I am, I vowed in front of God and my sister as witness that I would love, honor, and obey you. Neither of us were in love, at least with each other, when we wed, but, again, fool that I am, I assumed we would both work together until an acquaintance could become a friendship and friendship would grow to affection.”
Her emotions were so stirred he almost heard her growl.
“In the past six days, you have responded to my questions with a grunt or silence. You, Will Darcy, are…you are…never mind. No good will come from me saying aloud the things I desire to say.” She spun and returned to the window.
“Let me tell you something, Elizabeth Darcy…”
Before he could continue, she interrupted him.
“If I were you, I would be very cautious with your choice of words.” She moved back to the side of his bed. Her calm, emotionless statement was far worse to hear than her anger. “I will leave you to your meal and return in an hour for the tray. You will have opportunity to think upon my opinions and figure out how to calmly express your own. Are we agreed?”
When and how had he lost control of his wife? And his life? Discretion seemed to indicate that acceptance of her request was the wisest course, so he nodded his head. When the door closed behind her, he dropped his chin to his chest—a sigh ripping from the depths of his soul. His father never had this kind of trouble with his wife. Why had he chosen such a recalcitrant female? Covering his eyes with his hands, the scent of crispy fried chicken, gravy, and blackberry pie drifted up from the tray until it filled his nostrils.
He tossed his head back in frustration, forgetting he was against the heavy wooden headboard.
“Ouch!”
For better or worse, and at the moment it appeared they were facing the worst head-on, they were bound together. He sighed again, picked up his fork, and cleaned his plate until not one crumb remained.
She knocked softly on the door before she opened it. The hour had been spent fiercely scrubbing the kitchen until the polished surfaces shone. When she peeked inside, she found her husband scooted back down in the bed sound asleep. The tray lay alongside him, and she was pleased to see all the food was gone. At least he appreciated one accomplishment she possessed.
Richard, Denny, and Wickham were no longer on Pemberley property and, at this point, she was pleased, wanting peace more than a friend.
Lifting the blankets, Elizabeth repositioned the pillows under Darcy’s leg, gathered the tray and left the room. Once the dishes were cleaned and stacked for later use, she poured a cup of hot coffee and took it to the outside porch where she sat in her favorite rocker to look out over the land.
Lush beauty filled every inch of her vision. Summer smells of the fruit trees behind the garden wafted on the breeze as she watched one white puffy cloud after another move across the July sky.
What had she hoped to hear from Will Darcy? That he was appreciative of he
r efforts? That he esteemed her? Admired her? Elizabeth chuckled to herself. She was as bad as her youngest sisters, wishing for the impossible.
Thinking of Lydia, Kitty, and Mary made the loss of her home weigh heavily on her shoulders. Forgetting her original motive for leaving Baltimore would be easy under these trying circumstances and that would not do. Life in Maryland had been hard and would only be more difficult for the family as time wore on. Tears threatened when she thought of the faint hope she had of eventually bringing her whole family to live in the vicinity. Having the Gardiners at Goulding ranch, which was across the river to the west, the Bingley’s alongside their property, and her parents and sisters in a house in town, would have eased her concerns and given her plenty of loved ones to fuss over and enjoy. She could almost see her dream of a happy future drift away in the wind.
“Elizabeth.” The housekeeper lifted the coffee pot. “Refill?”
“You are a queen, Maggie.” Elizabeth was surprised she had not retired to her own house, now that the main meal was done. The men gathered at her table for both breakfast and lunch. After the chores were done at the end of the day, the men settled in the bunkhouse with a loaf of bread, a jar of jam, whatever bounty came from the garden, and enough strong coffee to keep Elizabeth up for a week. She normally didn’t see the housekeeper again until early the next morning.
Oregon City housed a large flour mill, so twice since her arrival, Elizabeth had used the finest flour for a layer cake, sending it home with the men and the Reynolds couple. She found joy in feeding appreciative, hungry people.
There were many reasons for happiness in her new life, though at the moment, they appeared buried by the troubles with her husband. Already, she loved the rich dirt that grew fruits and vegetables in abundance, the smell of wood pitch as it slowly dripped from the trees, the scurrying of squirrels and chipmunks as they sought to gather their winter stores, and the occasional bear growling as it broke apart an old stump seeking worms and grubs.
