Chapter 26
The night before Lydia’s wedding, Elizabeth found it impossible to sleep.
“Silly thing,” she murmured to herself. “It is the bride who is supposed to have nerves, not the bride’s sister.
” She was not nervous for Lydia, not really.
She thought it nothing short of a miracle that Lydia would soon be settled into domesticity and into a fine family as well.
Nevertheless, she did not sleep.
It was moments such as this that the true measure of her loss was made apparent to her. In the beginning of their marriage, she and Darcy would talk all night sometimes, and she had felt she might tell him anything. She missed having him as a confidante.
She looked over at his slumbering form. A pillow was between them; a pillow she had put in place.
She removed it now to see him better. He was on his side, his face towards her, but with the curtains drawn, she could scarcely make him out.
A fire had been lit in her room because the night was cold for September, but it was burnt low already and provided little light.
He was asleep, but perhaps if she just reached over and rubbed his arm…
Nothing. He was truly in a deep sleep. It would likely be kindest to simply allow the man his rest.
After a moment’s pause, she reached over and pushed him, just a little.
He rolled a small bit, more onto his back, but remained completely asleep.
I must go to sleep. I shall clear my mind, and then sleep may claim me. She sought a more comfortable position for herself and closed her eyes, willing herself to fall into slumber.
It did not work, and a few minutes later she was again staring at Darcy’s sleeping form. She nudged him a bit with her foot—not hard, but enough for him to pull his leg aside and make a sort of muffled grunt.
“Oh, sorry! Are you awake?” she whispered. However, her whispers remained unheard, and he seemed to be as asleep as ever. “Did I wake you?”
He snored, so she did it again, perhaps just the slightest bit harder.
Darcy sat bolt upright, looking about him in panic and confusion. “Elizabeth? What is it? Are you well?” He sounded drowsy at first, but became more alert as he spoke. She saw his shadowy shape move to rub his hands roughly through his hair, his usual attempt to wake himself.
“Um, sorry, I thought you were awake. Sorry. Go back to sleep.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I should not have woken you,” she whispered sheepishly.
“Think nothing of it. Are you well?”
Elizabeth felt herself blushing and almost laughed aloud at her silliness. “I am…in truth, I am just a little lonely.”
He said nothing to that but settled himself back into his pillows.
“I have been thinking of those first months we were married. Do you remember the time we stayed up all night talking?”
He chuckled. “One time? I can think of several.”
“True.” She laughed softly. “Several times, for certain.”
“Well, I am awake now. What shall we talk about?” Darcy asked, clear notes of anxiety in his voice.
She found herself moving just a little bit closer to him. “Anything, really. Do you have any secrets?”
He laughed loudly. “Um…no, actually, I do not believe I do. I have, perhaps, things I have never told you, but not because they are secret, just because…I guess we never had the time.”
“Very well.” She moved a fraction of an inch closer. “Tell me some of those. Something a wife should know that perhaps I do not. Perhaps something of your mother and father. I confess, I know very little of them.”
“Yes, well, obviously, they are both deceased, my father most recently in 1806, about six months after I had finished at university…” From there, he went on to tell her about his father, the sort of man that he was: good, honourable, and generally kind, but very reserved, even cold.
“He showed little affection to me or my mother. I never heard him say he loved anyone, though I presume he said so to my mother in private.”
“You say it often, both to me and to Bennet.”
“I was always determined that my children and my wife would never doubt my love for them for an instant.”
“Did you doubt he loved you?”
“Oh, um…” Darcy paused a moment. “My father…well, we were never easy together, and he was never finished with raising me. There was forever a lesson to be learnt or an instruction to be given. If we had gotten older together, a friendship might have formed. I see it with Saye and the earl; they are much alike and have many interests in common. I should have liked that with my father.”
“What about your mother?”
“She was a loving parent. Nothing like her sister, I assure you. But she was often sad and kept to her rooms for what felt like my entire boyhood. I am sure it was not truly so. She did not neglect me by any means.”
“Why was she in her rooms so often? Was she ill?”
Elizabeth’s small movements had brought her into contact with him, and it felt very natural to rest a hand on his chest and rest her chin on that hand. She could not see him, for the room was too dark, but she felt his breathing and heard the beating of his heart.
“The advantage of age has taught me that she must have had many miscarriages. At the time, I was simply told she was unwell.”
“Poor lady.”
“I would often find her crying on the rare occasions that I went in to visit her.”
“How frightening.” Elizabeth considered how she felt for her baby since the moment she first suspected his presence.
To have lost that would have been very painful indeed.
She had been fortunate that her pregnancy had gone so smoothly, she supposed, particularly given the adverse conditions she had faced.
“How did she die? Was it related to Georgiana’s birth? ”
“She developed childbed fever shortly after and died when Georgiana was about two weeks old.”
They went on to speak of family members for over an hour. Darcy told her everything he could remember of his mother, and they spent some time talking of Georgiana, mostly due to Elizabeth’s observation that Georgiana had had little female influence in her life.
“I cannot suppose it was to her advantage. It was my selfishness that kept her here, for my aunts dearly wished to take her in, but I would not let them. Perhaps I should have.”
Elizabeth knew to where his thoughts tended. “You and Fitzwilliam did the best you could, I am sure.”
She remained resting on his chest, his arm having curled around her ever so slightly. One leg rested on his, her toes lightly touching his ankle.
“I am not certain two young men could ever truly know what was best for a young girl. I should have allowed my aunt more influence. My pride did not permit it.”
“Less your pride, I think, than your desire to keep her close.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, “though there is one thing I have learnt: the moments when I am most sure of myself are the moments when I know nothing at all.”
They both fell silent for several long minutes, hearing and feeling each other breathe, until the clock in the hall chimed twice.
“Oh my!” Elizabeth sighed quietly. “We should get some sleep.”
“Are you able?”
“Yes, I believe I can. You need not fear a kick if you should drop off.”
“Well, good night then.” He paused for a moment and then added, “I love you.”
Her breath caught…these were the times that were so, so difficult! She flattened her hand over the thin lawn of his nightshirt, smoothing it over his chest. “I still love you too,” she whispered hoarsely. “But this is all…it is so very hard. But it is not because…I have not lost that.”
She wished she could see his face to understand his reaction to this confession, which felt rather enormous for her. She felt his lips come to rest in her hair for a moment, and then she rolled away, returning to her own pillow.
The wedding of Miss Lydia Bennet to Jolly Rollings was not something Saye customarily would have attended.
Miss Lydia had neither title nor fortune.
Jolly had fortune but lacked fashion. Together, they were likely to produce a pack of ragamuffins who would run about London presuming upon his acquaintance, and he always believed it was best to put a quick and definitive stop to any such doings.
But then he overheard Elizabeth say she would be there. And sure enough, there she was.
The Rollings’s town house was elegant but certainly too small for the vast number of people who were invited to the breakfast. Not a terrible shock, for people liked Jolly and wanted to get a look at his young bride.
Miss Goddard stood in the midst of an enormous crush of people, fairly locked at the hip with the Countess of Albion.
Saye did not care; he had played football at school and knew well how to push through a crowd to obtain a desired object.
Once he reached her, he disregarded her completely, bowing low over her aunt’s hand. “And who might this enchantress be?”
It worked. The lady laughed before deciding to purse her lips and say, “Introduce me, Lilly.”
She did, with plainly evident reluctance. The countess was appropriately cool, but he saw her eyes widen just a touch when mention was made of his title and position.
“Oh, none of that scraping,” he said, affecting an air of modesty. “Future earl or dust man, we all put our trousers on the same way, do we not?”
“No,” said Miss Goddard. “The dust man does not have his valet tug his excruciatingly tight breeches onto his body as some do. I cannot even think how you breathe, sir.”
“Lilly,” her aunt admonished whilst Saye tried not to look too gleeful. She had noticed his breeches, which meant it was likely she had surreptitiously examined his…
“Think nothing of it, madam,” he said to Miss Goddard. “If I cannot bear a joke, then I am no man at all. However, I shall insist upon a penance for this grave offence.”
Lady Albion looked concerned while Miss Goddard looked, for the first time, mildly interested. “Sir, I do not mean to offend you, but—”