by Elaine Owen
“My aunt has overstepped her bounds, and I shall have to deal with her. She will not be permitted to simply come to my home, insult my wife, and then leave again without being held accountable for her behavior. I am going now to see if she is at her house here in town and call on her there. I intend to pay her my respects,” he said the word disdainfully, “and return before the earl and countess arrive tonight.”
“I shall see you at dinner then.”
“Indeed, you shall.” He hesitated before leaving, looking at her one more time. “There is no need to worry, Elizabeth. I will not allow anyone, not even my aunt, to treat my wife in such a way.” With a quick turn and confident step, he left the house.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Darcy did return in time for dinner but he was in a black mood, the likes of which Elizabeth had not seen from him before. He did not arrive until after the earl and countess had made their appearance, and he apologized for his slight tardiness with only the barest of civility. When they went in to dinner together it was up to Elizabeth to carry the bulk of the conversation at dinner with Lord Robert and Lady Eleanor, while Darcy stared moodily ahead of himself and added little to the discussion around the table. Elizabeth looked at him questioningly several times, but he continued to observe without comment. Elizabeth grew increasingly uncomfortable as the evening progressed, which cut deeply into the growing feeling of companionship she was enjoying with Lady Eleanor.
When dinner was over and she and Lady Eleanor removed to the drawing room, the gentlemen did not join them for much longer than was expected, and when they finally did appear, Lord Robert began to make his farewell at once. Darcy made no objection, his face showing nothing but ill humor. Lady Eleanor, of course, had to follow her husband’s lead, although the look on her face showed her own surprise and displeasure. At length, however, with many apologetic looks from Lady Eleanor to Elizabeth, they did leave. Darcy at once offered Elizabeth his arm to escort her upstairs, still barely speaking or even looking at her. He seemed to feel that extending his arm and asking, “Are you ready to retire now? We have a long day’s travel tomorrow,” was enough conversation for the evening.
“I am not ready,” Elizabeth answered, hurt and disappointed by the dinner’s outcome. Little of the lively conversation or discourse she had anticipated had taken place, and she had no idea when she might see the earl and countess again. “I wish you would tell me what happened when you went to see your aunt. It seems to have preyed on your mind all evening.”
“Happened? Nothing happened,” Darcy answered, letting his arm drop. “The encounter ended successfully.”
Elizabeth aimed for a tone that would demonstrate her concern, conscious that there must be something serious weighing on her husband’s mind. “Can you not tell me more about it? Your manner does not match your words.”
“My aunt does not approve of my marriage, as I had known she would not,” he answered without looking at her, “and I could not refute her arguments, though I did my best. The experience was not pleasant.”
“But you said the encounter ended successfully? What arguments did she make against your marriage?”
“I do not see the need to repeat them. We are both tired, and tomorrow will be a long day.”
“I am not the least bit tired, and surely your aunt could say nothing worse about me than what I heard already.”
Darcy looked directly at her. “She spoke at length of the inferiority of your connections, your want of fortune, and the lack of decorum often demonstrated by your family, as related to her by Mr. Collins. I could not answer those charges, since they were all true.”
Elizabeth stared at him, unwilling to believe her husband would repeat such a thing to her. “Did you not defend your wife at all, sir?”
“I told her that she must address you as Mrs. Darcy in the future if she wishes to be a guest at Pemberley again. She reluctantly agreed.”
“And that was all?”
“We spoke of other matters as well, none of which need concern you.”
Elizabeth looked at him for a second more, and then walked away angrily before turning around and facing him again. “I think this does concern me, Mr. Darcy. I would like to know everything that was said, please.”
Darcy’s face clouded over, and his expression became stern. “They were personal matters. I am not obligated to share them with you.”
Elizabeth’s temper finally flared. “Of course you are not, since I am from such a low-bred family. But perhaps before you criticize my family’s manners, sir, you might look to those of your own family first!” She gathered her skirts and began to go up the stairs, intending to pass him and retreat to her own room, but Darcy shot out a hand and took her wrist as she went by.
“What would you have me say, Elizabeth?” he asked, holding her back. “Did you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your family? Did you think I would be glad to be the nephew of a man in trade, even if only by marriage? My family’s standing in society is so far above yours, it is no wonder if some of my relatives can hardly believe I made you an offer. I can scarcely believe it myself at times. It certainly went against my better judgment.”
“Being insulted by you is far worse than being insulted by your aunt,” she answered angrily. “And my aunt and uncle are superior to your Lady Catherine in every way. Let me go!”
This time when she pulled away, he made no resistance, and she swept up the stairs and into her room without looking back at him. There, she sank onto the edge of her bed and held her hands to her flaming cheeks as she fought down the urge to weep. She was not entirely successful; a few tears rolled down her face, and she wiped them fiercely away.
How could an evening that should have been so enjoyable have taken such an ugly turn? She had so looked forward to the countess’s lively companionship, for Lady Eleanor was warm and congenial despite the difference in their station. Lord Robert had been his taciturn self, polite when addressed directly but not volunteering conversation. But even his reluctant participation was better than her husband’s silent brooding. If her husband had at least tried to participate, it might have been one of her most enjoyable evenings of married life yet.
Then, to have her husband insult her own family so casually! Everything he had said was true, but to point it out in such a callous way was not what she had expected. She had thought he was going to defend her to his aunt, but instead he seemed determined to agree with her. At least he had insisted that Lady Catherine use her correct title; what he had said to gain that point, she could not imagine.
She clasped her hands tightly together in front of her, forcing herself to take deep breaths and exert her will over her traitorous emotions.
If she had wondered before about her husband’s view of their marriage, she need wonder no more. Everything her uncle had told her was true.
Yet even so, from Darcy’s standpoint, he had more than fulfilled his obligations to her. The marriage contract he had signed so willingly had saved her family from ruin; she needed to remember that, and to be grateful. He had defended her, at least, to his aunt, though he could not defend her family. She really had no right to ask anything more of him, and it was incautious of her to speak to him with such anger. She would have to apologize at her first opportunity.
The bedroom door opened, but Elizabeth, caught between anger and humiliation, did not look up. Her surprise knew no bounds when the door closed again and she felt Darcy sit down next to her on the edge of the bed. “Elizabeth, we must talk.”
She continued to hold her hands together, making no response.
“If I was harsh in my words to you just now, I apologize. I can understand that being reminded of your family’s shortcomings might make you angry.”
Elizabeth took a steadying breath. “I should not have spoken to you the way I did. You have been more than generous to my family, and I am grateful.”
“It is only appropriate for me to provide for my wife’s family, no matter the differenc
e in our stations. But perhaps it is not gentlemanly of me to remind you of that difference. You cannot help the family you were born into, and I certainly do not hold it against you.”
“It is kind of you, sir,” she answered, swallowing the bitterness in her words. Her wounded pride was urging her to protest his air of superiority, but she had no standing in this household. She was defenseless against him when he only spoke the truth. Still, his words hurt, and she could not help saying, “They are my family, and I do love them.”
“Of course you do,” Darcy answered at once in a gentle voice, putting a companionable arm around her shoulder. “They are a part of you, and I would not have you deny them.”
The sudden touch was her undoing. The frustrations of the evening, combined with the tumult brought on by Lady Catherine’s visit, made the tears she had been denying suddenly overflow. She covered her face with her hands, but instead of pulling away as she expected, Darcy pulled her closer to him and let her weep on his shoulder. For several minutes her muted sobs were the only sound in the room.
“I know these past few weeks have been difficult for you,” he said at length, when her tears had begun to slow. Elizabeth found that she was leaning completely against her husband, with both of his arms around her. He smoothed her hair with one hand while caressing her shoulder with the other. “You lost your father in an unexpected way, and then our marriage occurred so quickly after that. You left everything familiar to you when you married me. Please do not think that I am unaware of the enormity of the changes you have experienced.”
She reminded herself of the need to show her gratitude. He was being remarkably tolerant of her outburst. “Some of those changes have not been entirely unpleasant.”
“I would like to think not.” She sensed a smile in his voice. Was her head nestled under his chin? Was Fitzwilliam Darcy really holding her and treating her with tenderness instead of disdain? It was a far kinder response than she had expected after her angry words. She let herself relax against him.
“We had so little time to speak before our wedding day,” Darcy continued after a few moments, his voice soothing. “I hope you do not mind the speed with which the engagement took place. I had no other choice, if I was to protect your family before you were forced to leave your home. And of course I wanted the wedding to take place quickly for my own sake as well.”
“I understand.” She did not, really, but it made no difference. She already knew he was a determined man, apt to act swiftly in a matter of importance. He had saved her family, and that was all that mattered.
She had recovered enough, now, to sit up and wipe away the evidence of her tears. Darcy watched her closely. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yes. And I thank you for explaining your actions so fully.”
“Your family cannot be invited to Pemberley, of course, but you must not think that I will not care for them,” he continued.
She had expected this. “Not even my aunt and uncle?”
“Especially not your aunt and uncle. He is in trade, after all.”
“And I would do well to remember that your family is the superior of mine?” she suggested, wondering how he would respond.
“I do not think we need to dwell on that,” he answered, smiling faintly.
“Then I will not mention it again if you do not.” She allowed her voice to take on the teasing tone that he seemed to enjoy, and his smile broadened.
“And, Elizabeth,” he added, “You need not worry about Lady Catherine calling on us at Pemberley any time soon. There were certain things said between her and me today that make that unlikely. If I seemed to be preoccupied tonight, it is because of those things, not because of you.”
“Do you not care to share what was said, sir? I believe it might lighten your burden, if you were to do so.”
“It is my responsibility, and no one else’s,” he said shortly. “You need not concern yourself.”
The look on his face would brook no argument. Elizabeth felt as if a door had been opened briefly in front of her and then emphatically closed in her face. She had tried, at least. She could do no more. “Then I suppose we should prepare for bed and for traveling tomorrow. Good night, sir.”
“It is not quite good night yet,” he answered. “I will see you in my chamber in an hour or so, unless you need more time to prepare.”
“An hour will be adequate.”
He still wanted her in his bed, despite her heated words and his view of her inferior standing. She had survived another disagreement with her husband, but she realized that she was no closer now to understanding him than she had been when they first married.
Darcy held his wife in his arms late that night, long after she had fallen asleep, replaying the events of the past two months.
It was still difficult, in some ways, to believe that Elizabeth was truly his wife. For months she had been an elusive, intangible ideal in his eyes, the very picture of everything a lady should be, and yet completely beyond his grasp. She was handsome, intelligent, possessed of a mind the equal of anyone he had ever met, and given to a certain arch humor that he adored. She was perfect for him in every way, yet her lower social standing and lack of connections made her completely unsuitable to be his wife. Proposing to her had been his one defiant act of rebellion in a life comprised entirely of duty and responsibility. At times he could scarcely believe he had spurned his family’s expectations so dramatically. Elizabeth herself had been the prize he sought, and for her he would have, in the end, dared much more.
He was vaguely worried about her now. After losing her father so unexpectedly and then swept into marriage so quickly, and with her sudden dramatic change in circumstances, even Elizabeth’s high spirits were in danger of being overwhelmed. Her conversation at times lacked the sparkle and spontaneity he had come to enjoy so much. She smiled for him, but he noticed that her smiles frequently did not reach her eyes, and she sometimes looked at him with a distant, serious air that was utterly unlike her previous self.
He would do whatever he could to help her in her time of adjustment. At Pemberley, away from the pressures of town society and the danger of confrontation by his aunt, she would find the comfort and solace she needed. Her natural high spirits would do the rest. With the outdoor walks that she relished, the companionship of her new sister, and the fullest attention of her devoted husband, Elizabeth would once again be fully the woman with whom he had fallen in love.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“We will be at Pemberley by late afternoon,” Darcy informed her near noon of the second day of their travels. The note of possessive pride in his voice was unmistakable.
They had left Darcy House early the day before and made good time on the dry, clear road. The luxurious Darcy carriage, along with its coachmen and outriders, made Elizabeth recall once again how much her situation in life had changed since marrying Darcy, and she wondered what changes might still be to come. With the greatest of curiosity she wondered how Pemberley would appear to her for the first time—this new estate where she would live and whose home would be under her care.
“We will eat in the carriage rather than stopping along the way, so as to save time,” her husband announced. “I want you and Georgiana to have as much time as possible today to become acquainted. You may unpack the hamper now, if you like.”
“I am not hungry yet,” Elizabeth dared to contradict him. The hamper had been filled and loaded into the Darcy carriage by the staff at the inn where they had stayed the night before. If their breakfast that morning had been any indication of what had been packed, she would be missing out on something truly delicious. But it would all be like sawdust in her mouth. Her anxious anticipation had stolen her appetite.
“Are you well?” her husband asked, glancing away from the window to look at her.
“Perhaps the motion of the coach has upset my stomach,” she suggested, and he nodded.
“That is understandable. You may fare better if you face forward in t
he carriage, as I do. Come, sit beside me.”
He offered her his hand to help her move across the swaying coach and did not let go when she had taken her seat next to him. “We are passing now through countryside more familiar to me,” he told her. “We used to visit friends in this area when I was young. Over there is the tree that I favored as being mine, when my father would allow me the freedom to play on my own. I fell out of it more than once.”
She had noticed that he was beginning to speak more freely as they came closer to his home. “Did you not learn your lesson the first time? Why would you return to climb the same tree, after falling out of it previously?”
“My father said challenges are made to be overcome, not to shrink away from. They are the measure of a man.”
“That is a more appropriate lesson to assign to a grown man than to a young boy.”
“The choice to persevere was mine, not his. One learns little from an obstacle that is avoided.”
Elizabeth nodded, adding this to her mental inventory of her husband’s personality. What he said of himself matched her observations so far. Such resolve had no doubt helped him greatly when his father had died and he was suddenly the master of an extensive estate. By all accounts he had done well in his new role, and Elizabeth silently admitted a reluctant admiration for his decisive character. Not only had he taken on the management of the estate, but also the considerable care of raising his younger sister. Suddenly she wanted to know more about Georgiana.
“Please tell me more about Miss Darcy.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Whatever you can tell me. I am curious, having heard so little of her.” Wickham and Miss Bingley had given their own descriptions of Georgiana Darcy; she wondered how much her brother’s account would vary.
“Georgiana is shy with strangers, but she has a warm, caring nature. I believe she will respond well to your natural ease of manner. I hope that you will be just as much a sister to her as you are to Miss Bennet and the others in your family. Your devotion to Jane was one of the first things that drew you to my attention.”
