Chapter 8 #3
“You may invite anyone but Wickham, and my sister only if she forsakes him.” Darcy paced the room. “Colonel Fitzwilliam knows—well, he knows the truth about Ramsgate and Gretna Green. I know we agreed to persuade the world that our affections were engaged, but…”
“You wanted someone to know that I am not really your choice?” she said wryly, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I am not yours either,” he retorted, “and if there is one person you trust to reveal all to, I would not fault you for it.”
Who could she trust to care for her feelings about this?
She kept a journal for a reason. Her mother could not keep a secret, her father would not offer any sympathy, and Jane would be dismayed she had married without affection.
Most people would be like her friend Charlotte Lucas and wonder at her being concerned with such a thing as choice and affection when she had married a man of fortune and consequence who protected her good name.
“I do not think I will. If I am to pretend to the world that we ran off together from an absolute passion, I had best stay with the story.”
She opened her journal, but rather than leave, his pacing brought him near. “Aside from mentioning my cousin’s visit, I came to ask…” He looked a little agitated, and said in a rush, “Can we not be friends?”
His request surprised her. She had not guessed that he wanted any intimacy between them. “A true friendship, you mean? Between a couple? My parents are surely not friends.”
“Not every man makes a friend of his wife, but that is a choice.”
She supposed it was, and it saddened her to think of her parents not choosing friendship.
“And if the choice of partner had not been the man’s,” Darcy went on, “then he still has a choice after to cultivate a friendship, a partnership with her.”
Although she had not married for love, she and Darcy could choose to be friends. They should make the most of the situation. She did not hate him, after all. “I heartily agree, Mr Darcy. We will work toward a steady, intimate friendship, and toward knowing one another better.”
Her heart beat quickly when Darcy smiled at her in response.
Her answer had made him happy, and flutters danced in her stomach at putting that sincere smile on his face.
It made her wonder what were his manners on more intimate acquaintance?
What were his pursuits, his talents and genius? She was eager to know more of him.
“Miss—I mean, Mrs—” He cleared his throat. “May I not call you ‘Elizabeth’? If we are to be friends, I do not want a wall of titles between us.”
Was he inviting her to use his name? Georgiana was likely the only one who did, since he had no nearer relation.
She was not ready for that much familiarity, although perhaps in time that would happen.
But she was glad to drop his title. Truly, his offer of a real friendship was considerate, and it spoke to the generosity of his heart.
“You may, Darcy,” she said brightly, to show it made her happy too.
He smiled again and then looked round the room. “This room was my father’s favourite, so it has not changed in the years since he died.”
That accounted for Wickham’s picture being here. “Do you mind that I use it? I can find another if it was your father’s room.”
“Not at all. You should claim it as your own. Do you approve of the house?”
Given what she had seen of Darcy’s pride, she had assumed affectations of splendour and etiquette would rule at Pemberley. But there was no parade, no gaudy pomp of ostentatious greatness. It was beautiful, and expensive, but it was a home.
“It is charming, delightful,” she admitted. “I will be happy here, and I expect you to take me all round the park.” Choosing to provoke him a little, she added, “The furnishings in the saloon—”
“Are old-fashioned, and I am sure the bedrooms are likewise neglected.”
She had known Darcy was an observant person; she ought to have suspected he had a thorough knowledge of his own house. “I thought it would be more of an argument to persuade you to make any changes.”
“It is your home too,” he said plainly. “Just do not change my room,” he said with a smile.
She had not asked to see his room on her tour with Reynolds. She did not even know where he passed his leisure time when he was not in the library or the dining room.
But if they were going to have a steady friendship, one with trust and companionship, surely they would spend more time together. There was a heartfelt pleasure in the idea of getting to know him. “I promise. Indeed, everything is charming. There is very little to modernise.”
“Do you want a new instrument in the music room?” he asked in a subdued voice.
“I had thought of replacing it next year with the expectation that my sister would spend more time at Pemberley.” He looked toward the mantel and gazed at Georgiana’s miniature again.
She could not see his face, but the set of his shoulders fell, and she heard him sigh.
She rose, about to put an arm around him, but stopped. Theirs was not a relationship that had casual touches or embraces of comfort and affection. Friends might comfort one another, but he must feel they were not there yet. Besides, if he shirked her offer, the rejection would be painful.
Darcy then shook off his sadness and turned round, clearly surprised that she was now standing and near to him. “If you think it ought to be replaced, do not mind the cost, because I was already considering it.”
“She has not died, you know,” she said gently. “You could still have a relationship with her.”
A soft expression filled his eyes. “You are kind to cheer me, but in a way, she has. Georgiana made choices I cannot respect, and my character is compromised if I accept her in my life, especially since her husband could harm us.”
“She had every opportunity and every reason to come home with you. You were kinder to her than most brothers would be.”
“Because I did not shoot him and haul her away over my shoulder?” he asked. “Despite what he is, murder is not in my nature, and nothing short of that would have kept her from him. Sadly, she had every right to consent to the marriage.”
How appalling that the law said a girl of only twelve could consent to marry. But Darcy took much of the blame onto himself. “Her choice is not your fault, you know.”
“Is it not?” His tone was quiet but bleak. “She was in my care. I hired Mrs Younge. I allowed her to stay in Ramsgate. I could not convince her to leave him. I treated her as a child, which drove her toward someone who told her she was not.”
“No, Wickham preyed upon her,” she insisted.
“She was determined to marry no matter what anyone said, and I doubt you were more controlling than any good parent. And she ignored every reason we gave her to leave him. Her bad choices and his wickedness are not a reflection of you any more than Lydia’s flirting and my mother’s gossiping are of me. ”
He crossed his arms over his chest, seeming to draw further into himself. “It is not as though I must hold her at a distance because I find her husband to be a bore or a sycophant. I could endure that, and I could even endure her eloping if she had chosen a decent man.”
“I know,” she assured him. Or rather, she heartily believed him because she saw how he loved his sister and cared for his family.
“He is prone to vice,” Darcy went on, “he lies, and his running after women will result in the loss of his nose, the total destruction of his health, and my sister’s too.”
“And that is not your fault, either, especially since you made it clear that you would bring her home if she ever leaves him. What other brother would accept that scandal to keep his sister safe?” He was silent, likely feeling all the pain of his foolish sister’s choices.
“In time, when you are less disappointed, when she has time to understand the consequences, you might reconcile with her.”
“He is never welcome here, and neither is she if she stays by him. I will give them nothing unless he sues me and the courts force me to. Are we in agreement on that?”
Elizabeth agreed, but sighed. “You may be right, but that is so hard.”
“Doing what is right is not always easy. I cannot condone his behaviour or her support of him. And he would exploit any kindness we show her.” Darcy looked like remorse oppressed his heart. “My parents would be appalled that I let this happen.”
“Her choice, her mistake, is not your fault.” She touched his wrist gently in a reassuring gesture.
Had she walked nearer while they talked?
Darcy did not pull away, and met her eyes with a look of question.
When was the last time anyone had comforted Darcy?
She smiled and put a little more pressure in her touch for emphasis.
He returned her smile, but uncrossed his arms and stepped away. “I hear your words, but I am afraid I am not ready for them to enter my heart.”
Darcy bowed and left, and Elizabeth hoped he took some consolation from them.
It occurred to her that Darcy was someone whose good opinion mattered to her. He spoke to her as an equal and listened to her. Not every husband treated his wife that way, not even her own father. She might not know Darcy well, but she respected him and wanted him to respect her in return.
And for his sake, she wanted to repair his relationship with Georgiana. Her desire to ease Darcy’s mind and reunite him with his sister could be because it was only rational to want to help the person she now lived with. Her happiness would be improved if Darcy was happier.
But Elizabeth felt it was as much because he had come into this room to find her and ask if they could be friends.