The Darcys of Pemberley Page 2

  “We were as children, all three of us, before time and distance intervened. You may not be aware of it, Mrs. Darcy, but I have another brother who emigrated to America. I haven’t seen dear Tristan since he sailed. Even William and I, though no ocean divided us, seldom met in recent years. Alas, I could almost say the same about my poor husband as we were often separated by his absences at sea. In the nearly four years we were married, we scarcely spent a total of twelve months under the same roof.”

  “So little time together? Oh, my dear, I tremble at the very thought of it,” said Elizabeth, darting a glance at her own husband.

  “It has been lonely without him, and I miss my brothers as well. At least I have their letters for comfort. By reading their words, I imagine that I keep my dear ones with me. Now I shall have Charlotte’s companionship as well.”

  Being of similarly open and amiable dispositions, their conversation flowed effortlessly. As they talked, Elizabeth watched for some example of family resemblance between the siblings – the one before her and the one so recently departed – but she could detect no trace of Mr. Collins in his sister’s person or comportment. Mrs. Sanditon was fair; he had been dark. She possessed a slim figure, whereas he was decidedly stout. She was bright, genuine, and modest; her brother had been quite the reverse. Consequently, Elizabeth found this cousin much more agreeable, and when they parted company she expressed her earnest hope that they soon would meet again.

  Elizabeth then turned to locate her husband. He was never completely comfortable in this sort of situation, and she did not wish to disconcert him unnecessarily by neglect. She spied him across the way, standing alone, patiently watching her. A tall man with noble mien, she admired him immensely, and he grew more handsome in her estimation month by month.

  As their eyes met, a familiar, knowing look passed between them, causing her to take a sharp breath and feel a quickening of her heart. With private delight, she noted that nearly a year of marriage had, if anything, increased rather than diminished his power to affect her in this way. Elizabeth had no means of perceiving it, but at that moment Mr. Darcy entertained similarly pleasant thoughts about her.

  Chapter 2

  The Darcys

  Both for those who had traveled far and for the young widow, it had been an arduous day, as the strain on more than one drawn face attested. Excepting the Lucases, who planned to stay on with their daughter at the parsonage a fortnight, most of the other parties were lodged in town. So, by mid-afternoon, carriages were ordered and people began taking leave to return to London.

  The Bingleys intended to stay a few days with Mr. Bingley’s sister and her husband, the Hursts, in Grosvenor Street. The Bennets went to the Gardiners, Mrs. Bennet’s brother and his family, in a less fashionable part of town. Although they may have hoped for a different invitation, none had been forthcoming from the Darcys. The suddenness of their trip south from Derbyshire at the news of Mr. Collins’s death had given no time to properly prepare the townhouse for guests. At least that was the formal reason given. In truth, the easy-tempered Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could more cheerfully abide the unbridled tongue of Mrs. Bennet than could some of her nearer relations.

  Therefore, with all their friends parceled out elsewhere, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy enjoyed the happy prospect of having their home quite to themselves. In companionable silence they rode back to London, Elizabeth’s contemplative mood for the moment matching her husband’s taciturn tendencies.

  How little she had understood his reserved nature when they first met. She blushed now to remember how she censured him for pride and arrogance – not wholly undeserved – whilst her own conduct was equally at fault. What if they had never overcome those early misunderstandings? It could so easily have happened. No doubt most men would have walked away for good upon being so soundly refused. Elizabeth shuddered at the very idea.

  “What is it?” Darcy asked. “Are you cold?”

  “A little,” she answered, accepting his interpretation. “Fall is upon us, and the evening air has taken a decided chill.”

  In response, Darcy settled a rug over their laps and his arm about her shoulders. “There, is that better?”

  “Oh, yes. In fact, had I anticipated such an agreeable solution, I should have discovered myself to be cold a good deal sooner.”

  Elizabeth observed her husband’s look of quiet satisfaction. Later, when the carriage wheels exchanged the rutted dirt of country roads for the clatter of cobblestones, he voiced what they were both thinking.

  “Not much farther now; we shall soon be home,” he said, squeezing her arm.

  Elizabeth’s mind drifted back to the first time she had seen their London house, which had been on their wedding day. Although usually self-assured, on that occasion she became increasingly discomposed as they drew ever nearer, her apprehension arising as much from her new position as mistress of such a grand house as from the prospect of what awaited her in the marriage bed. She needn’t have worried on either account; her husband managed everything for her comfort.

  A fine supper had been prepared that evening for the master and his bride, to which they did not do justice. The delicately roasted quail had gone nearly untouched; the parsley potatoes failed to hold their interest; they drank their wine but hardly tasted it. The cook was not to blame, nor was she much offended that the couple’s appetites were so thoroughly engaged elsewhere. Ultimately, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy abandoned their dinner and moved to the bedchamber for the much-anticipated main course of the evening, which turned out more to their liking.

  Now, Elizabeth experienced far different sentiments as they entered their affluent neighborhood. Confidence engendered by familiarity had replaced her former anxiety. Although both she and her husband preferred to spend most of the year in the country, at Pemberley, they returned to London every so often for business or social concerns.

  The obligation to introduce Mr. Darcy’s younger sister into society added one more reason for coming to town. Miss Georgiana, now seventeen, had been under the guardianship of her brother since the deaths of their parents several years prior. Always careful with his charge, Darcy learnt to be even more protective after a nearly disastrous brush with a fortune hunter – the same Mr. Wickham who was now, unhappily, his brother-in-law on Elizabeth’s side.

  Although he took every reasonable precaution, the danger remained, and he would not be completely easy until his responsibility for his sister was fully discharged by seeing her respectably married and settled. Still waters often ran deep, and it had occurred to him that Georgiana’s tranquil exterior might be concealing more trouble brewing just below the surface.

  Darcy pushed that recurring thought from his mind as the carriage began to slow upon approach to the house. “Do you wish to do any shopping or take in an entertainment while we are in town?” he asked his wife. “We might find some amusement at one of the assembly rooms, should you have a mind to go out.”

  “I do have a little shopping if convenient. I really ought to visit the milliner, and Georgiana asked me to look out for some new piano music.” Elizabeth paused and smiled coyly. “As for entertainment, husband, you know that I prefer the amusements you provide above all others.”

  Taking her words as an invitation, he snatched his wife into his arms. He would have given her a little “amusement” right then and there, had not the footman opened the door prematurely. “Confound it,” Darcy muttered under his breath, loosening his hold.

  With a laugh, Elizabeth made good her escape; she slipped from her husband’s grasp, out of the carriage, and up the steps into the house. There, she knew, she would be perfectly safe, since Darcy took meticulous care to preserve his dignified demeanor in front of the servants. This fact made him an irresistibly easy target for her sport, the brunt of which he bore tolerably well. He would simply bide his time, content in the knowledge that he would receive his recompense later when they were alone, which was the most amusing part of the game.

  With his self-cont
rol firmly reestablished, Mr. Darcy continued the conversation with his wife in the hall as if there had been no interruption.

  “If it would suit you, you can dispatch your shopping tomorrow whilst I tend to some business at the solicitor’s office. And what do you say to having a few friends over Wednesday? Not a large group, possibly just the Applewhites and the Heywoods. Would you like that?”

  “An excellent notion! I long to see our friends again, and a small group is best, I think, with the house not being fully-staffed at present. I shall speak to Cook and send our cards round in the morning.”

  They shared a simple supper before retiring for the night. Unlike many others of their class, the Darcys never considered separate bedchambers. Their time alone together was precious to them, and, with servants always about, there were few other places where they could enjoy that luxury. In their private sanctuary, Darcy relaxed his stately persona, and Elizabeth felt free to lavish affection on him in ways more explicit than permitted in public.

  From the time they met, there existed no shortage of heat between them, although it had at first been misdirected into confrontation. After their marriage, that fire naturally channeled into more satisfying pursuits. Darcy certainly expected to find this aspect of married life rewarding. Elizabeth had been less confident going in, considering the warning hints and ambiguous information she received on the topic from her mother. Yet, resolving to keep an open mind, she had been gratified, and not a little surprised, to discover that her own extensive investigation into the matter reached such a happy conclusion.

  On this night, however, weary as they were from the exertions of the day, the couple shared only the intimacy of each other’s thoughts as they lay in mutual embrace. Darcy cradled his wife within the curve of his arm and took pleasure in meditating on the perfection of her face by firelight. As he did so, he noticed the little furrow between her eyebrows that crept in whenever she was worried or sad.

  “Your cousin’s death has upset you more than you anticipated,” he ventured.

  “It is only that I cannot help thinking about the uncertainty of life when a person who is young and healthy can drop dead without warning. I picture us growing old together, Darcy, but who is to say? It frightens me to apprehend that this tragedy could just as easily have happened to us rather than to the Collinses.” Gazing into his dark eyes, Elizabeth pleaded, “Promise you will never leave me; I know that I could not bear it.”

  “You should not upset yourself by dwelling on such gloomy reflections, my love,” Darcy urged, drawing Elizabeth closer and stroking her hair. “Here, with you, I shall always be, so far as it is within my control. We must trust to God for the rest.”

  In the silence that followed, Elizabeth pondered his assurances.

  Then, with an arch look, Darcy added, “I can at least ease your mind by promising you this. I shall always be scrupulously careful to cut my mutton into very small pieces to avoid your cousin’s fate.”

  Elizabeth drew back in affected horror at her husband’s irreverent remark. “For shame, Mr. Darcy! How can you be so unfeeling?” she chastised, punctuating her words with a blow to his ribs.

  Darcy prudently protected himself from further assault by pinning her hands to the bed with his own and swinging a leg over her, lest she next try to kick him. These reasonable countermeasures left the two in an interesting position. As the tussle escalated, both parties soon forgot they had imagined themselves to be tired, and Mr. Darcy collected his “recompense” that night after all.

  Chapter 3

  Hertfordshire

  The Darcys dispatched the remainder of their affairs in town over the course of the next two days. Elizabeth tended to her business on Bond Street; Darcy kept his appointment with the solicitor; and together they shared their hospitality with friends. Then, according to prior arrangement, they traveled in tandem with the Bingleys back to Hertfordshire, to stop with them at Netherfield for a few days before returning to Pemberley.

  After arriving and settling into their rooms, the Darcys and the Bingleys reconvened downstairs. All four were desirous of a good dinner and the pleasant intercourse of excellent conversation, their appetites for the first piqued by fresh air and travel, and for the second by the long separation of their far-flung households. On neither count did the meal disappoint.

  Gazing round the table, Jane beamed with satisfaction. To have her dearest sister with her was heaven itself, and by now Mr. Darcy had become a great favorite as well, his value immutably established in her eyes by seeing Elizabeth made so happy. Jane’s own felicity rested in equally reliable hands. Mr. Bingley was utterly devoted to his wife, having declared her an angel the first night they met and never repenting of that opinion. His attentions to her now were particularly solicitous; Jane all but glowed under their warmth.

  Upon observing this, Elizabeth began to entertain the notion that her sister could well be in possession of a precious secret. She did not remark on her theory in front of the men. Instead she awaited the first opportunity to forward the topic with Jane in private. She found her opening after dinner when she and her sister withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their tobacco and port. Unable to restrain her curiosity any longer, Elizabeth took Jane’s hand as they settled side by side in the front drawing room.

  “I am delighted to see you looking so well, dearest,” she said in a playful tone. “Indeed, you have such a glow of health and beauty about you as I never remember noticing before. Is it possible that you have some especially good news for me?”

  “Oh, Lizzy, I had determined not to say one word about it! But then, I never was able to conceal anything from you. It seems I am too transparent for disguise.” A quiet effusion of emotion followed. Then Jane cautioned, “It is much too soon to be absolutely certain of my condition, and therefore, Lizzy, I must beg you not to let slip even a hint of it to anyone else.”

  “Yes, you are wise to wait with an announcement. Remember when Mr. Collins prematurely published the news of his anticipated ‘young olive-branch’? Poor Charlotte was so embarrassed when it all came to naught,” Elizabeth recalled. “Well, you can depend on me. I shan’t say a word, however sorely I am tempted. I trust I may make an exception for Mr. Darcy, however. A husband and wife must have no secrets from each other, and his discretion, as you know, is unimpeachable.”

  It was agreed that Elizabeth should make the disclosure later rather than broach such a delicate subject in mixed company. So they said nothing about the matter when the men rejoined them.

  The rest of the day passed congenially – a stroll round the park, conversation, and the evening’s entertainments of cards and music. Elizabeth, being the only one amongst them who played even tolerably well, took her place at the pianoforte at the urging of the others. She was not a great talent, and someone with a more critical ear might have found fault, but those present were disposed to be pleased with her unaffected style and sweet voice. Darcy sat transfixed, as he always did when his wife played and sang. And Elizabeth, who was modest in the estimation of her own skill, found encouragement in his steadfast look of approval.

  That night, Elizabeth shared the Bingleys’ excellent news with her husband who, although not so outwardly moved, was nonetheless deeply pleased for them. The hearty congratulations and vigorous handshake he offered Mr. Bingley in the morning left no doubt of his good information. Little more passed openly between them on the subject, but a general state of cheer reigned round the breakfast table.

  Afterward, the Darcys were obliged to drive to Longbourn to wait upon the Bennets.

  As the Bingleys sent them off, Jane whispered, “Remember, Lizzy, not a word to Mama.”

  “Right you are, dearest. Nothing would put a more abrupt end to any chance of discretion in the matter.”

  Elizabeth looked forward to seeing her family, her father especially, but she still harbored a measure of trepidation on her husband’s behalf. To be sure, his reception at Longbourn had vastly improved upon joining the fami
ly. Even Mrs. Bennet, who had abused him so overtly in the past, was now prodigiously proud of her son-in-law and wasted no opportunity to mention his name and income to her friends. The revolution of her sentiments in Darcy’s favor did not essentially improve her behavior, however. She merely exchanged unwarranted scorn for excessive flattery.

  The Bennets received their guests warmly and ushered them into the sitting room with much commotion. The women embraced; the men shook hands; pleasantries were exchanged all round; and everyone took a seat. As was her wont, Mrs. Bennet seized for herself the responsibility of carrying the conversation.

  “My goodness gracious, how well you both look! Lizzy, your father and I were just saying how delighted we should be to have our own dear girl home with us again, and here you are. And Mr. Darcy, you know you are always exceedingly welcome too. It seems an age since you were last at Longbourn, but as you see, here everything goes on just the same. It is very, very kind of you to call. We would have been prodigiously pleased to have you stay with us, of course, but I suppose you are happier at Netherfield, where there is a vast deal more room. I have always said it is the finest house in Hertfordshire. What satisfaction it gives me to know that dear Jane is now mistress there, exactly as we had hoped for so long. Do you bring us any news from your sister, Elizabeth?”

  “No, Mama, no news,” she answered with a sly smile, “but they are well and we are quite comfortable there. Thank you for your concern.”

  Then Mrs. Bennet started off again.

  “What a strange business this is with Mr. Collins. I do not know when I have ever heard of anything so odd. When we first learnt the news, I felt sure there must be some mistake, but then we had it straight from Lady Lucas that it was true. Lizzy, you should have seen the state she was in. It was very like one of my attacks of nerves. Poor thing! And imagine, Charlotte a widow so soon. Poor Mr. Collins! He was such a pleasant, respectable young man. I was always particularly fond of him. I daresay any mother would be proud to have such a fine gentleman for a son-in-law. But never mind that, Lizzy,” she whispered. “I vouchsafe it is better things turned out for you as they did.”