Chapter 18 #2
Darcy was quiet for a few moments. “I do not see any impediment to that. I should have to rely on my steward to manage things in my absence, but—”
“Oh.” She uttered it inadvertently, but it caused him to stop and look at her. “Well, I just meant…you would…Weymouth is not really your home, after all, and it might be easier for us both if…”
She stopped, having turned to look at his face. He was impassive, but his eyes clearly showed his thoughts of her idea.
“It is too hard,” she said, and tears, vexing, silly tears, began to leak from her eyes. “This is hard.”
Darcy pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
She pressed it to her face, enjoying the warmth and scent of him that lingered on it and wishing she could permit him to hold her.
She trembled slightly, feeling his gaze upon her and seeing in her mind’s eye the worried and sad expression he no doubt wore.
For just a brief moment, she indulged herself, utterly incapable of stopping herself from turning and pressing her face to his chest.
Hesitantly, he laid his hand on her back. In but a moment, her wall crumbled, and she felt every bit of the painful yearning she had for him, the ache of his betrayal, and the full force of her love for him. It poured from within her in the form of agonising sobs with terrifying fervency.
As quickly as it came, she pushed it back, swallowing her agony, putting aside her despair, and forcing good cheer to her countenance. She dabbed the handkerchief on her face, looking around and praying no one had seen her unseemly display.
“Let us walk,” she said. Guilt compelled her to slide her hand into his arm.
They walked in outward silence as Elizabeth raged at her own foolishness. Never again, Lizzy. You must not do this again.
At length, Darcy said, “You wish to live apart.”
“Forget what I said,” she replied quickly. “Truly. I was feeling cross and tired and I just…please, pay me no heed. ‘Twas silliness. Are you hungry? Let us go in for tea.”
Darcy found himself nearly overwhelmed with happiness at having his family with him in the carriage en route to Pemberley. He could only wish that Elizabeth did not look so resigned, but she had every reason to be wary.
She had proved quite resolute in her determination that they should not speak of the past. There had been surprisingly few moments of recrimination or emotion, though he knew that more was to come.
He could only suppose that she wished to let all of them adjust to being together once again before such things could truly be discussed.
He believed that many unpleasant discussions, tears, and arguments lay ahead, but for now, it seemed she wished to remain in a sedate humour.
However, despite the outward appearance that Elizabeth seemed determined to uphold, he could see she obviously and rightly harboured quite a bit of anger and hatred towards him.
Occasionally, these would surpass her determined complaisance, and tears or harsh words would erupt.
He did not shy away from them however; in fact, he wished for them, for he gladly accepted whatever would be required to relieve the heavy burden of anguish she carried, and he knew that false cheer and disingenuous optimism would not do that.
Briefly, he closed his eyes as a remembrance from last evening assailed him.
Elizabeth had entered the drawing room, her eyes red and watery in her wan countenance.
Merely seeing her thus pained him, so he tried to offer apologies and comfort as he could.
She had simply looked at him, motionless and wordless, and stupidly, he had decided then to gather her into his arms and tell her how much he loved her.
She went stiff until he dropped his arms. “I beg you would not say such things to me—nay, I insist upon it.”
“Not tell you I love you?”
She shook her head firmly. “If you insist on doing so, then I…then I cannot go back with you. I shall not.”
After a pause, he said, “Then I shall keep these unwelcome sentiments to myself.”
“Thank you.”
Even remembering it made him ashamed. Unwisely, unadvisedly, he had then pressed her. “Elizabeth, am I meant to behave as though I do not love you? Should you prefer I am cold and unfeeling?”
She tilted her head, studying him for a moment, before saying, “I should think it easy enough. After all, you had a great deal of practice our last months in London. Do now as you did then.”
With a swish of skirts, she had left him then, and it was Mrs Mercer who came to tell him that Mrs Elizabeth had a headache and would see him on the morrow. So it was, that the next time he saw her was when she emerged from the house ready to enter the carriage to take them to Pemberley.
Pemberley. He prayed it would be a place of healing for them both.
They made the journey to Pemberley in four days despite travelling with the many carriages required to convey their group.
Elizabeth had Mrs Macy’s carriage with Bennet and Nurse Harriet, who had agreed to stay on when Merry left them to marry.
Darcy had brought two carriages to Weymouth for the conveyance of his party.
One for himself, Lydia, Kitty, and Georgiana, and the other for his man Fields, Mrs Annesley, and the girls’ maids.
The Mercers and Blake joined that carriage, and a cart came behind with all their many things.
Regardless of how they had departed Weymouth, somehow, by the time they arrived at Pemberley, Elizabeth found herself alone with her husband and son.
As their carriage came over the rise that would first allow them to view the house, Elizabeth prayed fervently that Darcy would not stop the carriage as had once been his custom.
Her stomach was knotted in anxiety, and in truth, she thought if she stood, she might very well collapse from her nerves.
She wondered how much time would be required to spend greeting the servants before she could run to the bedchamber and enjoy a bit of solitude.
She could not summon even the least bit of wherewithal required to console her son, who pressed against her, noting her anxiety. She could feel his eyes intent upon her face and tried her best to smile at him reassuringly.
Elizabeth felt as if she moved within a dream as she alit from the carriage, smiling and greeting the servants (who were all quite kind and respectful to her), giving instructions to the footmen for her belongings in a very natural manner, and then agreeing to Nurse Harriet’s offer to accompany Bennet and Mrs Reynolds to the nursery.
Everyone dispersed to their various duties with an almost eerie alacrity, and Elizabeth gratefully hastened to her bedchamber, praying Darcy would go to his study, to his own bedchamber, or off on a horse somewhere—anywhere, just so long as he did not follow her and further test her equanimity by his presence.
He did not. He kept hard on her heels, so much so that when she stopped in her tracks at the door to her bedchamber, he very nearly ran into her.
“Do you not need to attend to…things?”
He nodded, seeming as if he understood her none-too-veiled hint. “I do, indeed. I shall be in…my study I believe.”
She nodded and gave him a tense smile before opening her bedchamber door.
She paused at the threshold for a moment to look around.
How different it was, looking on this room now and remembering being the wide-eyed bride, wondering whether she would be able to be mistress of such a place.
For a moment, that same uncertainty assailed her, that same sense that she had wagered mightily on a horse that proved lame.
Nonsense. You are no lame horse. You saw an old woman to her last days in comfort. You birthed a child. You found yourself a comfortable position in place of being an outcast and alone, you can surely manage being wife to a man like Darcy.
She walked into the dressing room. Blake was not yet there with her things, and thus it was nearly empty save for the few trunks stored therein. One trunk in particular drew her interest, though she could not immediately understand why it was there.
It had a tricky latch, but her hands knew the way, and she slid it open with relative ease.
Inside, Elizabeth found everything she had not taken when she left Yorkshire: a gown she hated, a few pairs of shoes, and a book.
She reached for the walking boots, turning them to see the dirt that remained on their soles.
It gave her a strange, hollow feeling to remember that Elizabeth, the girl who had wandered the moors, afraid, alone…
a heroine in her own dreadful gothic tale, a tale no one ever wished to be a part of.
Her finger rubbed at the dirt, remembering how she was abandoned. “All those walks,” she murmured.
“What?”
The noise from behind her made her jump, and she tossed the shoes back into the trunk like a child found snooping. She felt like she might cry but forced herself to look calm. “N-nothing.”
“It sounded like you said something?”
She pushed past him, going back out to the bedchamber. She heard him follow her and busied herself moving the jars around on her table. “I did not say anything. Rather, I was talking to myself.”
“You said, ‘All those walks’. Did you walk a great deal in those shoes you were looking at?”
Elizabeth refused to reply, forcing herself to appear uninterested despite the flush rising up her neck.
“We, Fitzwilliam and I, brought that trunk back to Pemberley. I did not know whether you intended to discard those boots—”
“I do not want to speak of those boots!” She stopped and inhaled deeply for a moment. “I…yes, they are quite worn. They should have been discarded, I suppose.” Just like you discarded me. Toss them right out without another thought.
“Please, pardon me, I really must see to Bennet.” Before anything else could be said, she was gone.
Just minutes later, she was standing in the doorway to the nursery, viewing a scene that filled her with delight.
Evidently, in the time they were in Weymouth, Darcy set Mrs Reynolds to work purchasing every toy she could find that might be of interest to a small boy, as well as new linens and other items suitable for a nursery.
Bennet had never seen so many toys and books in his life, and he looked around in wonder while busily stacking blocks in the middle of the room.
It was wonderful to see him so happy and well settled, particularly given his usual tendency to be unhappy in new situations.
It is on things such as this that I must keep my mind, Elizabeth counselled herself.
He is a good man, he means well, and he is capable of doing lovely things such as this for his son.
She inhaled deeply; Bennet was happy. Was that not why she was here?
Bennet was content, and thus she would be satisfied.
Mrs Reynolds had been nearly overcome with happiness at having a small child to care for.
She had become teary-eyed when Elizabeth and Bennet alit from the carriage and almost instinctively reached for the boy before recalling her position and assuming a more rigid, proper posture.
Elizabeth had laughed and was about to tell her that Bennet was too shy to go to her until he knew her better, when Bennet had other ideas.
He reached for Mrs Reynolds, which Elizabeth could see was an overwhelming temptation for the housekeeper.
Elizabeth nodded to her, saying, “Mrs Reynolds, I would be very well pleased to have you hold him.”
Mrs Reynolds had quickly scooped him up, beaming and exclaiming, “Oh, my dear, are you not just the image of your father? We shall have such a good time, you and I.” Bennet smiled happily at her.
Mrs Reynolds, although ostensibly occupied with helping Nurse Harriet settle into her accommodations, could not take her eyes off of him.
Suddenly noticing Elizabeth, she exclaimed, “Oh, Mrs Darcy, please excuse me.” She shook her head, remarking, “It is just so long since we have had someone in these rooms, and it brings such joy to my heart.”
Elizabeth smiled hesitantly. “I am glad he already appears to be so easy. He is not usually this way.”
Mrs Reynolds sighed happily. “What joy for all of Pemberley to know there is a Darcy heir. I daresay there was some worry in Kympton, but all that is better now.”
“How do you mean?”
“So many in these parts depend upon Pemberley! The health and well-being of the master and mistress of Pemberley directly affects all of those people. It has been of great concern that you have been gone all these years. Folks will be much comforted that you have recovered so well from your illness and gladdened to see the next generation of Darcys playing on the lawns.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I can certainly understand that.”
The two ladies then paused, their eyes on Bennet, who was deeply engaged in his blocks. Elizabeth wondered what Mrs Reynolds knew about why she had been gone for two years.
As if she had read her mind, Mrs Reynolds spoke, “Ma’am, forgive me if I speak too familiarly, but the master was…well, he was honest with me about what happened.”
Heat rose in Elizabeth’s face. “I see.”
“I…I congratulate you, Mrs Darcy for your courage to return. Please know that if anyone in the household questions or gossips or—”
“What do they think happened?”
“They think you had to care for your relation,” said Mrs Reynolds firmly. “And any who think they need to know more than that will answer to me. Do not worry about anything, my dear—we will make sure your reputation and character have no stain here.”