Desired By Mr Darcy (…By Mr Darcy #2)

Chapter Five

Elizabeth

I t had been two days since the dreadful conversation with her mother, and yet her words still rang in Lizzy’s ears.

Wanton. Harlot.

Such terms were an insult she could not believe her mother would bestow upon her. However greatly she was disliked – and she had always been insignificant in her mother’s eyes – she did not believe her mother capable of stooping to such an insult. She had done nothing wrong, save for the briefest of kisses.

Perhaps they had not been so brief, but they had surely not been so passionate as to cause her ruin!

The carriage rattled over the uneven road, the creak of its wheels and the occasional snort of the horses the only sounds to fill the stifling silence. Lizzy kept her gaze fixed out the window, though the countryside whirring past offered little comfort. She felt Jane’s eyes on her, filled with worry, but Lizzy couldn’t bring herself to look back.

Her mother, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered. Mrs Bennet sat primly, her hands folded in her lap, the faintest air of smug satisfaction about her. Every so often, she would sigh deeply, as if burdened by a great responsibility. Lizzy bit her tongue to keep from snapping at her.

Jane leaned forward at last, her voice gentle but firm.

“Mama, would you not agree that London looks lovely at this time of year? I have heard the parks are particularly beautiful in autumn.”

Mrs Bennet huffed.

“Lovely or not, it is of little consequence. We shall be occupied with preparing your trousseaus. It is imperative you both have the finest of everything. London society is quite different from Hertfordshire, and your behaviour must be as impeccable as your appearances. It will not do to have torn hems, or ruddy cheeks from exercise.”

Lizzy whipped her head up to face her mother, her temper flaring.

“Mama, I will not sit here and listen to you speak of me as though I am not present. Beisdes, what do you know of London society?”

Mrs Bennet gasped, clutching at her bonnet as if Lizzy’s words had physically struck her.

“Elizabeth, how dare you speak to your mother so! After everything I have done for you - ”

“Done for me?” Lizzy interrupted, her voice rising despite her efforts to remain calm. “What you have done, Mama, is insult me in ways no daughter should have to endure. I have behaved no differently than Jane, and yet you treat me as though I have brought scandal upon this family. Have I ever done anything to make you believe me so dishonourable?”

Mrs Bennet’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but no words came. Jane, wide-eyed and visibly distressed, reached out to place a hand on Lizzy’s arm.

“Please, Lizzy,” she murmured, “let us not quarrel. We have enough to concern ourselves with.”

But Lizzy was not as talented in forgiveness as her sister. Her mother’s words had cut too deeply, her accusations too cruel to ignore.

“Tell me, Mama,” she pressed, her voice trembling now with emotion. “If you think me so wanton, so unworthy, you must be glad to be rid of me. Surely a husband like Mr Darcy is more than you ever hoped for with such a daughter.”

Mrs Bennet’s face turned crimson.

“Rid of you?” she spluttered. “Rid of you! Elizabeth Bennet, you ungrateful child, do you think I take no pride in your match? Do you think I do not lie awake at night praying you will not ruin everything with your wild ways? You do not understand what is at stake!”

Lizzy’s chest heaved; her throat tight with unshed tears.

“No, Mama, I do not understand. Perhaps you should explain it to me, instead of hurling insults and making me feel as though I have committed some unpardonable sin.”

“Enough,” Jane said firmly, her voice cutting through the rising tension. “Both of you. Mama, Lizzy has done nothing to deserve such ire.”

The carriage lurched as it turned onto a smoother road, the sudden quiet between the three women almost deafening. Lizzy turned back to the window, her hands clenched in her lap, her heart pounding with frustration and sorrow.

She blinked away furious tears, swallowing hard in an attempt to regain her composure. She had allowed her mother to crawl beneath her skin for the final time; soon, she would be Mrs Darcy and her mother would hold no jurisdiction over her. She would be the mistress of her own household and manage her own time – time she would certainly not choose to spend in Mrs Bennet’s company if it could be helped.

The carriage began to slow, and Lizzy peered out of the window. She had expected the Darcy residence to be smart, but she was impressed with the grandeur of the four-story townhouse that loomed ahead of her. The carriage stopped in perfect alignment with the gate, and the door snapped open as a well-dressed footman bowed his head before them.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“Good afternoon.”

Lizzy stepped out of the carriage and onto the pavement, staring up at the house that was to be her home when in the city. The front door opened, and her heart was gladdened to see Fitzwilliam appear at once. Behind him was his cousin – oh, how confusing that both were Fitzwilliam! – and Georgiana.

“Lizzy!” Georgiana called delightedly, waving.

Lizzy returned her future sister’s enthusiastic wave, the tension of the carriage melting away at once as she looked upon her new family. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana smiled broadly, whilst her betrothed showed only the ghost of happiness. She was used to his smiles being hard-won, and took no offense. She ascended the steps to the front door, dropping into a neat curtsey.”

“How wonderful to see you again, Colonel. I did not know you would be in London.”

“I have taken leave so that I might stand as my cousin’s best man. And this must be the other bride-to-be, Miss Jane Bennet?”

Jane joined them on the stairs, dipping to Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I have heard a great deal about you from our dear Mr Bingley. May I be so bold as to say he did not do your elegance justice?”

Jane blushed.

“And this is Miss Georgiana Darcy, Jane,” Lizzy interjected before her sister melted from embarrassment.

“How lovely to meet you at last,” Georgiana said softly. “Lizzy has told me so much of her sisters, and she spoke of you with such fondness.”

“I have heard much of your accomplishments from Miss Bingley,” Jane said, her voice just as timid as Miss Darcy’s. “I hope I may be so bold as to ask to hear you play whilst we are here?”

“I would be honoured. Tell me, do you play?” Georgiana asked, taking Jane’s arm and leading her into the house.

Her mother joined them at the top of the stairs.

“Such a journey!” Mrs Bennet lamented loudly. “London roads are poor in comparison to Hertfordshire. It is a pity they cannot maintain them properly.”

“Mother,” Lizzy said in a tone laced with warning, “Will you not greet our host?”

“Mr Darcy, a pleasure to see you again. And who is this?”

“My cousin,” Fitzwilliam said, speaking for the first time. “Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“A pleasure, Mrs Bennet. I am sorry to hear that your journey was unpleasant.”

“It is no matter; what a fine home you have, Mr Darcy. I was not expecting such clean brickwork. London is a filthy place, yet your facade sparkles.”

Nobody knew what to say to such a strange compliment, and Lizzy almost giggled when her Fitzwilliam, utterly bemused, made no attempt to even acknowledge it.

“Won’t you come in?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. “There is tea. I am sure you are tired from your long journey.”

Mrs Bennet bustled into the house, her voice carrying behind her and no doubt giving poor Colonel Fitzwilliam a headache. Elizabeth lingered behind, a soft smile playing on her lips as she turned her gaze toward her betrothed. His presence was like a beacon, steady and reassuring.

“I am sure you regret your invitation to us already,” she said with a wry smile. Her voice was light, but the undercurrent of apology was genuine. “I must apologise in advance for whatever my mother says during our stay.”

Mr Darcy’s expression softened as he met her eyes, his voice quiet yet firm.

“I am very glad to have you here. If it is not too bold, may I say I have missed you?”

Her heart gave an unbidden flutter, and her smile widened. She felt the warmth of his words settle over her like a balm, soothing the irritation that the carriage ride had stirred within her. She reached for his hand, squeezing it softly. She lingered a moment, reluctantly pulling her hand away before they were seen.

“I have missed you too,” she admitted, her tone tender. “You shall never be rid of me once we are married. Every moment apart has seemed endless.”

“I have seen to it that you and Miss Bennet have appointments at a modiste tomorrow for your trousseau. I apologise if arrangements have already been made, but I have an account for Georgiana and thought it best if they had your measurements. You may decide what you like best, and in the future they shall send dresses directly to Pemberley when you require them. Mr Bingley has seen to Miss Bennet’s account.”

“It is far too generous of you,” she replied.

“You will be Mrs Darcy,” he said simply, as though that explained everything. “You must have whatever you desire.”

Her gaze softened, and she dipped her head in gratitude.

“Thank you. Is Mr Bingley joining us this afternoon?”

Darcy nodded.

“He will be along shortly, I am sure.”

For a brief moment, they stood in companionable silence. The sounds of the house carried on around them - the muffled chatter of servants, the rustle of footsteps on polished floors - but it all felt distant to Elizabeth. In that moment, she was utterly present, enchanted by him. It was strange, she thought, how a face so familiar could still hold such power over her.

“Lizzy!” Her mother’s voice rang out, cutting through the reverie. “Come along!”

Darcy stepped aside, gesturing with a subtle incline of his head.

“Please, after you.”

Elizabeth hesitated, a playful glint in her eyes as she leaned closer.

“Whatever happens during our time here,” she whispered conspiratorially, “please do not break the engagement.”

Darcy’s brows drew together in a look of genuine concern.

“I would never,” he said earnestly. “Do you believe I ever would?”

Elizabeth instantly regretted her poor joke. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her voice softening.

“I am only teasing,” she assured him, her tone laced with affection.

“Such a topic is far too serious to be used for humour,” he replied, his eyes fixed on hers with calm determination.

She smiled ruefully, chastened yet touched by his sincerity.

“You are right,” she said. “Forgive me.”

With a slight nod, Darcy offered his arm, and together they stepped into the house.

The Darcys' London residence was every bit as elegant as Pemberley, though it bore the hallmarks of modernity in its design and furnishing, distinguishing it from the timeless grandeur of their Derbyshire estate. Where Pemberley’s charm lay in its seamless harmony with nature, its every room a testament to generations of tradition, the London house exuded a cosmopolitan refinement that spoke to the taste and affluence of its owners.

Elizabeth could not help but pause in the grand reception hall, her eyes sweeping over the high ceilings, the intricate plasterwork, and the gleaming parquet floors. The room was flooded with natural light, pouring in through tall sash windows that framed a view of a neatly manicured garden below. It was an effect both welcoming and impressive, the very balance she had come to associate with Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Traditionally, a new mistress of such a house might set about redecorating to suit her own tastes, but Elizabeth felt no inclination to alter anything. Indeed, she could not imagine what she might improve. Every detail, from the richly patterned rugs to the subtle gilding on the cornices, was executed with a precision that bordered on artistry.

As they passed through into the parlour, Lizzy’s admiration only deepened. The room was dressed in an enchanting shade of green, neither too bold nor too pale, but a perfect blend that seemed to draw the outside in. It was a colour that spoke of life and renewal, yet maintained an understated elegance that was quintessentially Darcy. The walls were adorned with landscapes rendered in delicate watercolours, each framed in gold, and the furnishings - ornate yet not ostentatious - echoed the green in muted upholstery and polished wood.

“I can see you are pleased,” Fitzwilliam said, breaking the silence as he observed her. His voice held a note of quiet satisfaction, as though her approval meant more to him than he cared to admit.

Elizabeth turned to him with a smile.

“It is exquisite, Fitzwilliam. I could not dream of altering so much as a single chair.”

A faint smile played on his lips. “I am relieved to hear it. Though you should know, the house is as much yours as mine now. Any changes you wish to make would be... welcome.”

“Then I shall make only one,” she replied, her tone playful. “I shall take great pleasure in filling it with friends and laughter. For all its beauty, a house must be lived in to truly feel like home.”

Darcy tilted his head slightly, a gesture she was beginning to recognise as his way of conceding a point.

“A wise observation. It is fortunate, then, that you possess a talent for filling even the grandest spaces with warmth.”

“You flatter me, sir. The craftsmanship is very fine, and the décor looks to be new,” Lizzy said. “Did Georgiana oversee it?”

“No. I had the whole house refurbished before Georgiana took residence in town, and oversaw the designs myself. I had hopes…”

“What?”

“I had hopes that you would be here, too.”

“When was this?”

“The work began when I returned to London from Hertfordshire, and concluded just after Easter. When it was finished, I believed you would never even step a foot over the threshold, for you had made your feelings clear to me. You cannot imagine my joy to see you here.”

Lizzy was lost for words, unable to believe he had taken such lengths in imagining their life together. Had she known this in April, she had no doubt that she would have been horrified, but now – now, she was touched that he had taken such careful consideration of her tastes.

Tea was brought out soon after their arrival, and just as Fitzwilliam had anticipated, Mr Bingley joined them. His face lit up with an undeniable eagerness as he greeted Jane, the kind of unrestrained delight one might expect from someone returning after years away rather than mere days. Lizzy, cup in hand, watched the lively exchange with quiet amusement, her gaze occasionally wandering to her betrothed, seated alongside Mr Bingley.

Their contrasting dispositions could not have been more striking. Where Mr Bingley’s voice carried easily with cheerful exuberance, Fitzwilliam sat in composed silence, his lips pressed into a firm line. Yet, Lizzy's sharp eye discerned nuances in his stillness that others might miss. She had begun to decipher the subtle language of his expressions - a raised brow, the faintest tightening of his jaw, a flicker of movement at the corner of his mouth. This was no indication of boredom, she realised. Rather, it was an unspoken shyness, a reticence that seemed at odds with the commanding presence he so often projected.

“Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet said, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, “What are your plans for after the wedding?”

“We will depart for Pemberley the next day.”

“It is a pity you are marrying at such a time of year, if I may say.”

“I do not think so,” Fitzwilliam countered. “I find the autumn to be very pleasant.”

“I suppose it does have its charms, but…”

Mrs Bennet paused, her expression one of careful consideration, though Lizzy suspected her mother was more eager to voice her own thoughts than to truly contemplate Fitzwilliam’s words. “But the roads can be dreadful! Mud and rain, you know. I only hope you don’t find yourselves in difficulty. And Lizzy, my dear, you will take care not to catch a chill, won’t you?”

“Of course, Mama,” Lizzy replied smoothly, her tone laced with a practiced patience that was born of long familiarity with her mother’s fretting. “I am sure we shall manage quite well, rain or shine.”

Mrs Bennet’s brow furrowed briefly, but she brightened almost at once, as if struck by a new thought.

“Still, I daresay it will be a fine time for setting up house properly. Pemberley, I am told, is most splendid, Mr Darcy. Though I imagine Lizzy will have much to do in making it truly hers.”

Fitzwilliam shifted slightly in his seat, his composed demeanour unbroken.

“Pemberley is indeed a fine house, Mrs Bennet, but I trust Miss Elizabeth will find it as welcoming and comfortable as I do. Its charms require no embellishment.”

Elizabeth’s gaze darted to him, catching the subtle warmth in his words. Though his tone remained measured, the sentiment behind it was clear. She found herself smiling despite her mother’s prattle.

Mrs Bennet, however, seemed determined to maintain the momentum of her commentary.

“Oh, well, naturally, a gentleman would think so! But you know how ladies are, Mr Darcy. They always have little improvements in mind - new draperies, or some touch of colour here or there. Lizzy has an eye for such things, you’ll see.”

Mr Darcy inclined his head politely, but before he could reply, Jane smiled at Mrs Bennet and patted her hand.

“I am sure Lizzy will make Pemberley her home in her own way, Mama, but perhaps we might allow her the chance to settle in first, before these imaginary renovations begin.”

Mr Bingley laughed suddenly and loudly at Jane’s quick wit. Lizzy, too, could not hide her amusement at her sister’s bold remark.

“Indeed, Mrs Bennet,” Mr Bingley agreed once he had composed himself. “I suspect that Pemberley will soon reflect Mrs Darcy’s charm just as well as it reflects its master’s taste. And speaking of charm. I must confess, I am most eager to see Netherfield come alive again. It has been far too quiet of late.”

Jane blushed, lowering her gaze shyly, and Lizzy couldn’t resist a smile at the obvious affection between the pair.

“I daresay, Mr Bingley, that Jane will have no difficulty in making Netherfield a home once more,” she told them.

“Just as you will at Pemberley,” Jane said softly, her eyes meeting Lizzy’s with sisterly affection.

The conversation turned to lighter matters then, with Mr Bingley recounting an amusing tale from childhood, his enthusiasm infectious. Even Mrs Bennet seemed momentarily diverted, her laughter mingling with Jane’s and Mr Bingley’s. Fitzwilliam, meanwhile, remained more subdued, but Lizzy noted the way his gaze softened whenever it lingered on her. She could see in him a quiet contentment, a sense of belonging she had rarely observed before.

As the afternoon wore on and the tea things were cleared away, Lizzy found herself reflecting on the realisation that in this man, so seemingly reserved and difficult to know, she had found a partner whose heart matched her own in ways she had not expected.

She glanced at Fitzwilliam again, catching his eye this time. There was something unspoken between them, a connection that needed no words. And in that shared silence, Lizzy felt her confidence grow - not just in him, but in the life they were about to begin together.