Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Elizabeth packed their bag Sunday morning, feeling a calmness she hadn’t felt when they arrived on Friday night.
A little honesty and forced proximity with Darcy had fixed everything, and it brought a depth of relief she hadn’t realised she needed.
For two weeks there had been a tension under the surface where nothing was fully enjoyed and she was never fully at ease.
They never stayed angry for long. He was too forthright and honest and she too inclined to share her feelings to harbour grudges, at least for the long term. Or maybe they were both just too sensible and too much in love to let resentment or silence linger.
Would she always have tiny doubts about if she was worthy of what he gave up? Possibly, but that was not Darcy’s fault, so there was no point in making judgments based on it.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked, coming to carry down the bag as if she wasn’t perfectly capable.
“I suppose. I enjoyed having you all to myself.”
He gave a meaningful smile and a quick kiss, likely thinking about how they spent the last of their time alone. “When we have a summer holiday in August, should we leave Sandra and Georgiana behind and tell Charlotte not to join us?”
They locked the door and went to the car. “No, but maybe we should get a larger place. I wouldn’t want us to be overheard. And we can send them on a few excursions. In the meantime, you can just stop avoiding your feelings with work.”
“I promise to leave the mobile in the boot until Monday, but that is as long as I can justify.”
“You work more now than you did when you were Mr Darcy.”
He laughed. “I am still Mr Darcy.”
“It isn’t the same.”
“True, it is now a very different work. But I find I’m suited to it.”
“You are.” If they lived together in the past, her work would have been purely related to domesticity and housekeeping rather than accountancy for Pemberley House and managing a museum.
Even being caregiver to her child might have been out of her reach.
“When you tell your sister she can marry the steward, mention that you essentially do his job now.”
Darcy tipped his head in assent as they drove out of Bakewell. “Now that I have set things to rights with you, I will reassure Georgiana, if I can. As hard as it will be, I will talk with her tomorrow after her first recital. I don’t want to distress her before she has to perform.”
“She didn’t push at all to make you engage with her,” she mused. “Must be that natural Darcy reserve.”
“Remember, she is adopted. I don’t have a single blood relative except for my daughter.”
“Neither do I,” she said. “At least not in England. We’re alike that way.”
“Do you want to go to Chicago to see them?” he asked after a while. “I could handle an aeroplane now. Charlotte would give me a sedative, I am sure. Or you could visit on your own, since your mother does not approve of me.”
It was laughable that Mrs Bennet couldn’t approve of Elizabeth’s marriage just because her own husband had abandoned her nearly forty years before.
As a provider, as a partner, as a father, Darcy was worthy of the respect of anyone who claimed to love her.
But her mother had no interest in “the husband.”
“No, I don’t want to go,” she said firmly. “I need more distance, not less. I’m tired of reaching out and not getting anything back. Besides, I don’t want Mom’s resentment or Jane’s apathy to rub off on me.”
“I find that unlikely to happen,” he retorted.
“Despite how you were raised, how you were neglected and taught to rely on no one but yourself, you have become a woman full of humour, affection, and intelligence. You have a love and loyalty to your family and friends that defies how you were brought up.”
That galvanised her, and she unpinned and unfavourited her mother’s and sister’s contact info. “You cut ties and chose this life, and I should have done the same a long time ago.”
After Darcy pulled into the garage and parked, he took her hand.
“Elizabeth, your father was a coward, and your mother is consumed by bitterness, and your sister cares only for her own success. You are worth so much more than what you settled for from them. I have only kept silent because you wanted a relationship with them, but if you are ready to remove yourself from the long shadow of their indifference, I can only applaud your decision.”
He got out of the car and came around to open her door.
She gave him a firm kiss of gratitude. To hide her pleasure at his words of encouragement, she said, “We should invite our friends to dinner tonight to say thank you for minding Sandra.” Frank and Gwen and their other friends were her family, not her uninterested mother and sister in America.
“But let’s tell Georgiana to prepare for company first. I’d hate to surprise her; she’s so shy. ”
“She’s not been entirely alone since yesterday morning. I asked Roland to look in on her. He understood why I asked. When I said she would be alone, he seemed concerned that my time traveller would burn the house down.”
Elizabeth laughed as they went inside. “I managed to carry a candle in 1811 without hurting myself or others.”
“Eventually,” he said with a teasing smile. “But you’re right, she won’t burn down the house. She’s never laid a fire in her life.”
They entered their private rooms to find Georgiana on the sofa with her borrowed phone, reading with the eBook app. When she saw them, she threw it down and ran toward them, as though to prepare them for something.
“What is the matter?” Elizabeth asked.
“I, I believe everything is fixable,” she stammered. She looked extraordinarily nervous, even for her. “I do not know how it happened!”
Elizabeth and Darcy shared a concerned look before following her farther into the apartment. Everything looked fine until they cleared the hallway and saw the kitchen. They both stopped short, and Darcy cursed while Elizabeth gasped.
Brown liquid and bits of vegetables were splattered on every surface.
The entire oven and a side of the nearby refrigerator were saturated, where it had then dribbled to the floor and dried.
But their gazes travelled up to see the same mess covering the ceiling above the oven.
There was an overturned and now empty soup can on the other side of the counter.
Not a surface within three feet of the stove was safe from the filth.
“How…” She couldn’t complete the question.
“Did it explode?” Darcy asked. “What were you doing?”
He spoke in the same voice he used when Sandra had done something foolish or dangerous and he was trying to keep his tone patient while his emotions were in an uproar.
“I remembered what Elizabeth said about making soup and how simple it was to heat it in a pot on the stove. She said it was one of the first things you cooked when you arrived. I was certain I could do it myself.” Georgiana faltered.
“I thought I could make the army food soup since I could boil water for tea.”
Darcy reached over to the empty teakettle that was now blackened on the bottom. “Are you sure?” he muttered drily.
“I could not find the little tool to open the tin,” she went on, “but I thought to begin heating it whilst I searched for it.”
“How did you heat the soup before you opened it?”
“I put the canister into the water and brought it to a boil.”
Elizabeth gaped at the mess. It was like a soup bomb had gone off on her stovetop. “For how long?”
“I am uncertain. I never remembered which tool was the tin opener, and I decided instead to eat the remaining…the food Sandra ordered for us on Friday. It was bread with tomato sauce and melted cheese.”
Elizabeth slowly connected the dots between the tin and the explosion, but her thoughts were primarily focused on how to get the soup off the ceiling’s plasterwork.
“I admit that did not go well, either,” Georgiana admitted. “I placed the piece on a plate and put it into the…the little box on the counter?”
Darcy opened the microwave door and peered in, then quickly shut it with a grimace. “For how long?” he also asked.
“I asked it to heat it for ten minutes. I thought that was a reasonable amount of time.” She looked close to tears. “But, but you see, I misjudged that as well.”
Pizza needed ten seconds, not ten minutes. There were two food explosions to clean.
“And did you then forget about the tin in the boiling water?” Darcy asked.
“I am so sorry,” cried Georgiana. “I ate a piece of the tomato bread cold. That was actually good, and I went on with the rest of my afternoon. I was singing in my room to prepare for tomorrow. Then there was a terrible sound! I do not understand what happened.”
“You ought to have poured the soup into the pot and warmed it directly, rather than heat it in the tin,” Darcy explained.
Elizabeth saw how much effort he put into speaking evenly.
“The soup inside the tin boiled and turned to steam. The roiling contents put pressure on the tin, which exploded. You are lucky you were not next to it and injured when it burst.”
“But why is it everywhere?” Elizabeth whispered to Darcy, staring at the ceiling.
“I think some must have hit the ceiling fan, which slung it round the room.”
She dropped her gaze. “Why is it smeared all over the counter?” Rather than be spattered, the brown liquid was streaked all over the surface, almost ground into it.
“I tried to clean it, of course,” Georgiana answered, “but I made it worse. I was so confused by the types of cleaners.”
Darcy started to ask her what she used, but Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm. It didn’t matter, and Georgiana was on the verge of tears as it was. Instead, he muttered, “When does the cleaning person come?”
Elizabeth slowly shook her head. “I can’t leave this for her. I have to clean it before she comes to clean.”
Darcy looked at the ceiling again and said drily, “I’ll get you a ladder.”