The Red Chrysanthemum
Page 35
“Lizzy?”
She rolled away from his gaze and cried harder.
“Lizzy!” He knelt at her side. “What disturbs you so, my love?”
Elizabeth drew herself into a ball. He touched her shoulder tenderly. “Lizzy, darling, why do you bathe so early? Why alone? This is not like you.”
She choked. “I, I…I am so sorry.” She spoke in huffed gasps without turning to him. “Oh, Fitzwilliam…”
He shook his head, thoroughly perplexed, but she did not see his face. “Lizzy?”
She drew in a deep breath. “I am not…” She sobbed again before finishing, “I am not with child.” Her tears redoubled.
“I saw you are not from our bedclothes.” He turned her by her shoulders to face him. “What of it?”
“It is time I should be. I am afraid…” She could not speak her thought aloud. I am afraid you will put me aside if I am barren.
“Afraid? Of what? We have only been wed just beyond six months.”
“Seven cycles of the moon.” She would not meet his eyes. “In Jane’s letter yesterday… She is three months along and ready to tell everyone her interesting news.” Elizabeth was taking deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. She did not mention Lydia Wickham had delivered to her scoundrel of a husband a fair son now over a month old. And some two weeks older than Lydia’s son were the twins, William Lambton and Elizabeth, born to Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.
Darcy smiled knowingly. “Is there some sisterly competition of which you have not made me aware?”
“We were married on the same day,” Elizabeth bleated.
“Of that I am aware,” Darcy chuckled. “But if you recall, she and Bingley had a one day start with certain matters.”
Elizabeth attempted a withering glare, which only provoked further chuckles. “You laugh, but what will you think of me if I am…if I cannot…” Her voice grew fragile. “I was told that no small part of what attracted you was my appearance of health.”
“Indeed, madam, you have not been ill a day since our wedding. I do not feel myself misled.”
“You know that is not what I meant.”
He knelt behind her and massaged her tight shoulders. “Lizzy, it does not signify. I will always love you. Please do not alarm yourself unnecessarily.” After a few moments, when she seemed to relax, he asked, “May I join you?” Her tub was smaller than his, but he had squeezed into it before.
She sighed, still disheartened. “You better not. There is blood here.”
“We have bloodied my sword before. Why are you timorous now?”
He moved to face her and saw her forming a response. “Today, or in a day or two, I shall have a letter from Mama. She started two months ago, hectoring me. She knows my time. She keeps a calendar. She will ask. She says I am lucky there is no entail, and any child will do, but I must get to it or you will put me aside, or take a mistress.” Her expression was woeful.
“Oh, hang your mother.” Darcy leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “My dearest, you are my mistress. You allow me anything. Your generosity and playfulness astonish me still. You have done so since our first night.”
Elizabeth considered this. She looked down, embarrassed. She slid to her neck under the water to shield her bosom from his covetous gaze before saying, “I own I astonish myself, sir. You have made me accustomed to sensations most unseemly.” She knew from their brief season in town that their marital relations were unusually varied. She allowed him much more freedom with her person than was normal. Most women were not led to the joy Darcy insisted she experience. She listened to the other wives but stopped speaking of her own marriage when she saw how they looked at Darcy after she once made the effort to be explicit.
Darcy’s dimples deepened. “You think us indecent?”
“I think we must be. Jane and Bingley do not behave so.”
Darcy’s eyes twinkled. Clearly, he had different information than did she. “Or perhaps someone is not saying. These things are best left between a man and woman alone.”
“Oh! I would not have you think I asked for any particular information of Jane. I speak only of what I infer.”
“I know, Lizzy. Do not fret.” He moved to capture her gaze. “Indeed, this may all be my fault.”
“How so?” She looked dubious.
“The morning after we arrived home, after our wedding night, when we awoke together and were so happy, I said a little prayer that you would not become with child too soon. It was selfish I know, but I wanted to continue having my way with you at my will before we stop for your confinement and the altering of our habits becomes necessary with children in the house.”
Elizabeth let out an exasperated breath. “You might have told me.”
Darcy laughed. “You already thought me ungentlemanly for the way I touched you.”
“Yes, but did that stop you? And now you are much worse.” At last she smiled.
“So are you. You do things to me, Lizzy, for which I would have had to pay a great deal in the finest brothels of Vienna eight years ago. And I have never imposed upon you; you just seem to know what I want.”
A flush of pink spread over her face and down onto her chest. “What a thing to say to Mrs Darcy,” Elizabeth scolded but looked pleased.
Darcy was delighted he could still make his wife blush. “If you will not let me bathe with you, then come out of there.” He pulled her to standing and dried her with the ready towelling. Looking at his wife’s freshly bathed and rosy body, Darcy smiled seductively. “This month, let me answer your mother. I shall send her news she never would dare repeat. You told me what the old hens of Meryton said of me — what they told you to expect.” Darcy unpinned her hair. “Were they so very wrong?”
She looked into his smiling eyes. “What they failed to take into account is my nature. Are we both incorrigible?” She entered his embrace.
“Lizzy,” Darcy sighed, running his hands through her hair. “I would have your mother find us so.”
As Elizabeth predicted, a letter from her mother arrived with the evening post. Darcy purloined it, and he would not reveal its contents to its intended recipient. It was full of praise for Jane and worried criticism of Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.
* * *
Mrs Bennet was surprised to receive a letter from Pemberley in handwriting other than Elizabeth’s. She was mortified by its content, which was terse and explicit.
20 June, 1813
Dear Mrs Bennet,
This letter is the humble request of your son-in-law that you immediately desist writing to my wife regarding the getting of children. These letters discompose her. They set you at odds with the wishes of her husband that she learn the arts of Europe’s finest courtesans, from my instruction, for my pleasure and, I hope, hers, before we consume our time with child rearing. Your daughter has proved to be everything her husband wishes, both wildly adventuresome and charmingly acquiescent. She denies me nothing and is a quick study. Elizabeth has not disappointed me in any particular, and I would not have you influencing her otherwise.
Elizabeth finds your letters on any other topics to be highly diverting; this is the only amendment I would make to your correspondence with her.
Respectfully,
F. Darcy
An immediate case of the fidgets beset Mrs Bennet. She paced her rooms, flapping the letter, and sighing loudly. She rang for tea and sent it away. There was no one with whom she could disclose this disturbing and repugnant missive. It was too improper for Mr Bennet to know his darling was being trained as Mr Darcy’s fancy woman. Mrs Phillips or Lady Lucas would trumpet the news far and wide. Lydia was lately delivered of her first child, and she loathed hearing about the Darcys and their wealth. Lydia wanted nothing more than to think Darcy dreary and Elizabeth unhappy. Mrs Gardiner already thought Mrs Bennet foolish enough for taking so decided an interest in the procreative accomplishments of her daughters, and could be counted upon to side with Darcy.
After changing her clothes th
ree times, Mrs Bennet called for her carriage and directed the driver to Netherfield. She could rely upon Jane to be suitably shocked, and Mrs Bennet longed to share her disapproval. Perhaps Jane would hear her with the proper attitude of righteous indignation.
When Mrs Bennet sallied into Netherfield unannounced, the servants were sent into turmoil. No, Mr and Mrs Bingley were not from home, but no one would say precisely where they were. It was noon, and Mrs Bennet knew the couple had formed the habit of taking some light refreshment at midday.
Without hesitation, Mrs Bennet flung open the small dining parlour doors. Jane was alone but appeared extremely disturbed as her mother entered the room. Jane’s chair was at an odd angle to the table and she seemed to be rearranging her skirts.
“Mama!” Jane’s cheeks were heated and florid but Mrs Bennet did not notice.
“Jane! I have received such a letter from Mr Darcy as will shock you to your tender heart. Indeed, I do not know if I ought to tell you in your delicate condition.”
“Mama, calm yourself. If you will go to the drawing room, I shall join you in a moment.”
Mrs Bennet ignored her and pulled out a chair to sit. “You will not believe it, Jane. I am myself so upset I can scarce speak of it.” Yet she gave every appearance of settling in to do so at great length.
“Mama, please. If you will just…”
“It seems he is training Lizzy to be a columbine. No, that isn’t the word…concubine? Courtesan? That’s it! It is just as I feared. He does not care for children. He only married her for” — Mrs Bennet lowered her voice but whispered as if on stage — “fornication.”
There was a loud bump that sounded like a head hitting the underside of a dining table. It was followed by Charles Bingley muttering, “Ouch! Damn it!” and a peal of nervous laughter. Jane sat for a moment in stunned silence; then the present situation began to be comical. Forever more, betwixt just themselves, she and Charles would refer to Lizzy as “the columbine.” Jane was trying so intently not to laugh that her eyes watered from the strain.
Mrs Bennet grew quiet. She stepped back from the table, drew up the tablecloth and looked underneath. She was met with the fair prospect of her son-in-law’s bare buttocks, his trousers bunched around his knees. She stood bolt upright, all colour drained from her face. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.
“Jane! For heaven’s sake, it is the middle of the day, and you are with child,” Mrs Bennet hissed.
No further words were exchanged as Mrs Bennet flounced from the room with all possible haste. Within fifteen minutes, she was at Longbourn, and she took to her bed for two days.
* * *
In late September, Mrs Bennet received another letter from Darcy, short and to the point as ever.
Dear Mother-in-Law,
We thought you would be relieved to know that, after enjoying conjugal relations rather constantly throughout July and August, my dearest Elizabeth has missed her monthly bleeding for two months running. Her bosom is becoming so voluptuous that I have decided, rather than viewing the getting of children with misapprehension, I will now endeavour to keep her increasing as often as God wills it — and Elizabeth allows it — for the foreseeable future.
Nature has taken its course, Madam, as I always knew it would.
Yours respectfully,
F. Darcy
In spite of its good news, this letter was met by its recipient with the same disapprobation as the previous one.
Columbine
“Folly”
Epilogue
Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy raised six children. Their eldest was a boy, Charles Richard Darcy, followed in quick succession by three girls, Jane, Georgiana and Madeleine. As soon as Charles Darcy learned the meaning of the term ‘harpy,’ his three sisters became “The Harpies,” much to the amusement of their parents.
It began with Jane’s birth, for she had the temerity to be born on her brother’s second birthday. He was taken to see his baby sister and, with shrill alarm, uttered the word, “No!” for the first time, being a jolly and good-natured baby until that moment.
All his sisters richly deserved their appellation. They seemed born into a conspiracy, visiting upon their brother every manner of indignity and mortification that was within their considerable means to produce or procure. They were intelligent lively girls, all three very much their mother’s daughters.
There was a period of several years before the last two Darcy children were brought forth, Thomas Bennet Darcy and Edward Gardiner Darcy, born only a year apart. The Harpies doted on them to the point that Elizabeth and Darcy despaired of the baby boys ever learning to walk. Their sisters carried them around like rag dolls.
When Charles Darcy reached marriageable age, the Harpies went from one extreme to the other. They appointed themselves his staunchest defenders from grasping females and their greedy mamas. It was a source of wonder to their elder brother that, for eight years, from his eighteenth to twenty-sixth birthdays, his three sisters knew the full history and every particular of all young ladies introduced to him no matter where he went. They rendered an instant opinion bolstered by facts. How they contrived it, he never learnt. The Harpies scolded their mother if she suggested a young lady for her son whom they deemed wanting. When Charles did marry, just before his twenty-seventh birthday, it was with the unanimous consent of the Harpies. He would not have proposed without it. The approval of his parents was pro forma by comparison.
Thomas Bennet outlived his wife by eight years, sparing her the indignity of seeing Longbourn pass into the hands of William and Charlotte Collins and their one son. Mr Bennet visited the Darcys as often as he felt like it, whether they were in London or at Pemberley, and took great delight in watching the Harpies harass poor young Charlie. He was known to aid and abet them — his pack of Lizzies.
Open Rose
“I still love you”
Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy were married for nearly fifty years. Although they squabbled and teased each other throughout their marriage, no one ever heard them truly quarrel. It was not until both Darcy and Elizabeth passed away that their children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews and Gardiner cousins, realized the Darcys had enjoyed the happiest of marriages. It was an elderly Charles Bingley who explained to them at his final Christmas that Elizabeth and Darcy plagued themselves with many vexations and absurdities during their courtship, thus relieving married life of most of its usual trials.
Georgiana Darcy married into another Derbyshire estate, becoming Georgiana LeFroy. She married for love into a family of quality. She was not as suited to childbearing as she was to music and was survived by only one child, a tall, fair-haired son. It was she who secretly placed bouquets of red chrysanthemums upon the graves of her brother, and then his wife, in the churchyard of St. Swithin’s in Lambton — during the season when those flowers were in bloom — and open roses in the spring until the year of her death.
Red Chrysanthemum
“I love”
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
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