Chapter 25 #2
He was embarrassingly eager to sleep in his wife’s bed again, even though he knew it was no more than sleep.
What he longed for, more than anything, was the comfort they had once shared together in the sanctuary of their bed.
There was an inevitable intimacy involved in lying in the dark with your wife.
The sharing of confidences, the revealing of secrets, and the outpouring of emotion seemed quite natural, in a way it could not be in another circumstance.
He hoped very much that this additional time together would be beneficial for them.
Although Elizabeth continued to be resistant to conversation about their separation, perhaps under the cover of darkness, she would feel more able to confide in him.
He knocked softly on her door and entered when bidden. She was already in bed, the covers drawn up, with a book on her lap. It felt awkward to slide in beside her—it was not something he had expected to ever be able to do again. “Thank you for allowing me to be here with you.”
After a long moment, she said, “I do not know why, but it never really occurred to me before that you had suffered too. I am sorry for that.”
He did not know what to say. “You are generous to worry about that. In truth, I am simply bearing the consequences of my own action.”
“Things are no less painful when you have brought them on yourself,” she said, then hurriedly added, “But no need to speak of all that, not when it is bed time.”
It was never the right time to speak of these things, but he did not say that. He was grateful for what he had and would not ask for more. He blew out the lamp and settled into the pillows. “Good night.”
There was a pregnant pause, and then he heard the rustle of bedclothes as she moved towards him.
She was motionless for just a moment and then he felt a slight, brief pressure as her lips touched his cheek.
He fought against his instinct, which was to grab her and crush her body against his while greedily kissing her passionately.
He instead remained frozen as she did it once again, then rolled away. “Good night,” she whispered.
Quietly, he released the breath he had been holding.
An erotic memory of one of the last times they had been in this bed together came to his mind.
He had been doing a bit of work in the library downstairs just before they retired.
The lamp must have been smoking, or something of the sort, for he had developed a headache the likes of which he had never had before.
His valet had given him some powders, but they provided him little relief.
When he had at last come to her and told her of his woes, she was sympathetic and told him to lie back and allow her to rub his head.
Needless to say, his aching head was soon forgotten for the joys of his wife.
Now, such things were but a memory. He wondered whether she ever thought of such things, if she ever longed for not only the physical comforts of marital intimacy, but also the attachment of the heart and mind that came with it.
They had been good together from the start.
She was…adventurous, for lack of a better word… and trusting, and together—
Well, it did not bear consideration. She had loved and trusted him in a way that she likely never could again, and he would be fortunate if they ever again shared that sort of intimacy.
He had his heir, and he would never wish her to do anything from a sense of duty.
He would much prefer to remain celibate.
Some time later, he woke to hear her saying quietly, “Please, no. Please?” She said it several times, tossing and turning as he sat up to look on her. She had been crying, he noted with dismay, and fervently hoped it was not he of whom she dreamed. But he knew it likely was.
He reached out to wake her, but surprisingly, as soon as he touched her arm, she grew more agitated.
He tried to shake her a bit, and she began to struggle violently.
Her distress alarmed him, and he leant in to speak her name, and as he did, she reacted even more aggressively, shoving him violently while simultaneously bringing her knee directly into contact with his groin.
Darcy reeled back, exclaiming loudly with the sudden and unexpected pain.
Elizabeth woke immediately and sat upright. “What happened? Are you ill?”
“No, no,” he gasped. “Quite well.”
“Did I…maybe my knee…accidentally…?”
“Uh…yes.”
“Oh, I am so, so sorry! I was having a dream where…well, never mind that.”
“I gathered as much.” The pain was slowly subsiding, and Darcy inhaled deeply. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
He could almost feel her stiffen. “I cannot recall it. You know how that is.”
He knew immediately that she did not speak the truth. After a few moments of silence, he offered, “In any case, I am sorry.”
“For my dream?” She forced a laugh. “Really, I hardly expect an apology for things that happen in my sleep.”
Quietly, Darcy said, “I apologise for the anxieties and fears you have had to face that led to your dreams. Those actions were very much my own.”
Elizabeth did not respond, but in the darkness, he thought he saw her wipe her cheek.
Lydia swept into town with an air of royalty, full of elaborate plans and schemes that her mother unequivocally supported.
Kitty followed unhappily behind them wherever they went, glad to be reunited with Georgiana, who had also come to town for the wedding, but dissatisfied to be the remaining unmarried Bennet sister.
“You are full young,” Elizabeth scolded. “No need to hurry into things.”
“Lydia is so vexing! All the talk has been of dear Rollings and what dear Rollings has bought her and how much dear Rollings is enamoured of her… I declare, if this goes on any longer, I should run mad into the Thames.”
Elizabeth laughed. “No need for that. Your time will come, my darling.”
It had been decided that after Lydia’s wedding, Kitty would accompany them on a wedding trip to Bath. Thinking it sounded very dull, she wheedled and pleaded until Georgiana was also invited to be one of the party.
As it was, the Darcys scarcely saw Georgiana even though they were all under one roof.
She kept to herself many days, practising the pianoforte, reading, or taking walks with Mrs Annesley.
Elizabeth felt rather guilty about it; their home was not wholly a happy one, and Georgiana felt the burden of her misdeeds even more now than she ever had.
“She had few friends before,” Darcy told Elizabeth, and she understood that ‘before’ meant before her unfortunate affair with George Wickham. “She has always preferred more solitary pursuits but now is ashamed and untrusting as well.”
My return has made things worse for everyone. Elizabeth knew it was not wholly true although some days it felt undeniable. She was not happy—she scarcely ate, her sleep was troubled, and her smiles were infrequent.
She had always believed a mother was the heart of any home.
Whatever mood had lit upon her mother had always dictated the general air of Longbourn.
Likewise, the Gardiner’s home was friendly and easy, kindly and engaging, as Mrs Gardiner was.
And Darcy’s home? Well she knew not how it had ever been, but under her command, it was nothing to boast of.
Silent, subdued, and melancholy. Unquestionably, her mood affected everyone.
With a sinking realisation, she knew it meant she must change things, and soon.
The Bennets had come to an uneasy truce with Darcy—in other words, they mostly disregarded him.
They stayed at the Rollings’s house in town for the wedding, but Elizabeth hosted a family dinner for them all, including the Gardiners, in honour of the couple.
She was pleased to see that Darcy and Uncle Gardiner had grown close in the time since their marriage and remarked on it to her aunt in a private moment after the ladies withdrew.
Lydia was holding court with tales of her dress fittings, and Elizabeth drew to the side with her aunt.
“He is friends with my uncle,” said Elizabeth. “Quite extraordinary for a man whose family still thinks trade is quite beneath them.”
“He sought out your uncle’s advice many times over the years. He still does in fact. He was to see us only a few days ago.”
“A few days ago?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “For what?”
Mrs Gardiner, lovely that evening in a gown of ochre silk, looked ill-at-ease. “You did not know? He comes often.”
“I did not know anything of it.”
“Perhaps you should ask him directly, then. I would not like to betray his confidence.”
Elizabeth laughed at this. “Betray his confidence? Aunt, whose side are you on?”
She meant it in good humour, but her aunt frowned. “He is my nephew, and you are my niece. I am on the side of both of you being happy—and do not attempt to tell me you are happy, because I can plainly see you are not.”
Elizabeth nodded, looking down at the bracelet she wore. Darcy’s jewels—it seemed he was everywhere.
“It took a great deal of courage,” Mrs Gardiner continued, “to marry a man you scarcely knew. It took even more courage to do what you did and do it so very well. I cannot imagine it myself, but you did it. And it took still more courage to come back to him for Bennet’s sake and the future of Pemberley. ”
Tears threatened upon hearing her aunt acknowledge it all so succinctly, yet so truthfully!
“But if you want to be happy, and I mean truly happy, then you must perform the most courageous act of all—forgive him. Forgive him and trust him with your heart and soul once more.”
“I have been thinking along a very similar line,” Elizabeth agreed slowly. “I simply do not know whether I am equal to it.”
“If you want your joy returned, the essence of good humour that once defined you, then you will do as you must.”
Elizabeth smiled weakly, and her aunt leant over and kissed her cheek.