Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
She awoke to Darcy’s lips moving gently over hers.
Every evening, Elizabeth had an earnest longing to be in bed with her husband, and although Darcy kept her awake late into the night—with either vigorous, heart-racing action or a slower, sweeter thrill—she then fell into a sound sleep and awoke perfectly revived, in excellent spirits.
Sometimes, she was fortunate enough to convince him that he rose too early and that he ought to revive both of their spirits again before they began their day.
She took notice of the dark hair that brushed Darcy’s collar, the small scar near his temple, the faint stubble across his chin, and felt a strengthening affection.
Now that she was fully awake, he stood from the bed.
She wanted to draw him back to stay, but she could see that he was nearly dressed and intended to go out.
“I might have liked you better when you were a steward on the edge of gentility who was retired from society and without any responsibilities.”
“It is not so trying being my wife, is it?” He affectionately pushed back a strand of hair from her forehead.
“You need not worry about the exorbitant price of fish or a rise in tea, or have to scrape the sugarloaf yourself. And you need not be jealous of a lawyer or a few gentlemen at Brooks’s.
They will not keep me from you for long.
I shall be back the same time as I was yesterday. ”
“Yesterday it was your uncle, and the previous day it was your friends. You are lucky that I can tolerate this fine house in Charles Street whilst you are gone from it. How fortunate for your domestic felicity that your taste is not uselessly fine and your furnishings are not overwhelmed by ugly ornaments. Otherwise, I could find nothing to like about having a house in Mayfair.”
Darcy shook his head, amused, and sat on the bed to kiss her again. “You tolerate it because it is so near to Berkeley Square that you can walk to Gunter’s whenever you wish.”
“That is purely for Jane’s sake, you know. When one is in the family way, she can eat as many ices as she pleases.”
“Is she coming again this morning with her troop of little boys?” She suspected he was afraid that the stucco of his drawing room would not survive another invasion.
“Jane alone is coming to spend the morning with me since I am to receive calls from the curious gossipers, the envious single ladies, and anyone else who must see for themselves what manner of poor, unconnected woman you found for yourself whilst grieving in Portsmouth after you returned from Madeira.”
“At the least, my family will give the decent appearance of consent.”
Since learning the cause of her heart ailment, she knew how he hated the idea that someone mistreat her.
She sat up and ran a hand through his hair.
“His lordship told you, if I recall, that he gave his permission for you ‘to be a fool if you liked it.’ How gracious of him, considering the union cannot be undone. When we join your uncle and aunt tomorrow evening, I will endeavour not to make any stipulation that he approve of me.”
“I am sorry. I will not allow anyone to—”
“You have nothing to apologise for—except of course for not telling me who you really are. You may apologise for that for years.” He gave a half-smile. “What about you? Are you resigned to once again being judged by your connexions and wealth?”
“So long as I have you, I can tolerate anything.” There was a warmth in his look, but she wanted to see what kind of heat would radiate from him if he were joyful.
As a step toward that goal, she tugged on his trouser buttons, but Darcy laughed and said, “We shall both be behindhand if you do that,” and, after a parting kiss, he left.
To her pleasure, Darcy was the same man in Charles Street as he had been at Netherfield’s small lodge.
He had more activity to take him from home, and that commanding air and noble mien were the same, but she saw now how they suited the position he was in.
He was just as reserved in public in London as in Hertfordshire, and at home he listened to her play with the same attentiveness as he had in Meryton, and he still wanted her to try to argue him out of his every opinion.
Aside from the furnishings, the servants, and the responsibilities, he was in essentials what he ever was.
Jane joined her before her callers arrived to see the new Mrs Darcy.
The visitors seemed to think her first pleasures would be to fill her house with new furniture and to give the best balls.
They presumed that she expected to command the first society in their Derbyshire neighbourhood and amongst his circle in town, and that she was determined to provide a cheerful round of amusements to show herself to advantage now that she had his fortune and such pin money at her disposal.
It is little wonder that Darcy lived in the world and had not married by twenty-eight.
When it appeared that no other visitors would be forthcoming, Elizabeth explained to Jane the truth behind Darcy’s stay in Hertfordshire and Georgiana’s death, while keeping to herself the real reason she married Darcy.
“Lizzy!” Jane brought one hand to her mouth while the other rested protectively over her rounded stomach. “What a tragedy, and what a secret. Why tell me at all?”
“Darcy’s friends think Georgiana died in Madeira, that he married in Portsmouth in July, and that we were in Hertfordshire for a wedding visit to my family.
My friends in Meryton know we married in May and that Georgiana died there in June.
I am not worried about their eventually comprehending Darcy’s wealth, but what about the circumstances of why he was in Meryton?
Can I keep our friends from suspecting something amiss? ”
Jane grew thoughtful. “No one had reason to suspect Miss Darcy was anything other than ill. Darcy staying there because his consumptive sister needed the country air and was in too much pain to travel is reasonable. After today, I see that you now move in such different circles that it need not be a problem. Memories fade with time, after all, and details are forgotten.”
“It is true that no one from Meryton is likely to come within Darcy’s circle, but what about Mrs Cuthbert?”
“Her only concern is that there are no unmarried women in her connexion. With time and distance, the details of when and where you met and married will be lost, and although Mrs Cuthbert still has some connexions to that part of town, your calls this morning prove to me that our circles are so varied that it will not be an issue.”
“My rational mind knows that you are correct, but for the sake of Darcy’s peace of mind, I am still worried.”
Jane moved from her seat to sit by her. “Who can remember exactly when a friend married when so few people typically attend the event? And who would dare to presume that they remember more accurately than the person in question?” she added with a pointed look.
“Kitty and her husband will so often be at sea that none shall question them about your Portsmouth wedding, and truly, why would anyone have reason to? Once my mother understands Mr Darcy’s position, she will be so much in awe of him that she would listen if he asks her not to unsettle him by ever referring to his sister having been in Meryton. ”
“What of Lydia?”
“And Lydia . . .” Jane sighed. “She will have securing a match to occupy her. Or tell her that you shall buy her a new parasol if she never mentions Miss Darcy because it grieves you both to hear of her. I think that the worst that could happen is your London friends learn that Darcy was in Hertfordshire and not abroad, and then it will be simple to explain that Miss Darcy could not endure a trip to Madeira, the ruse helped Darcy hide his grief, and you prefer not to discuss such a sad time in your lives.”
It made sense and would not cause a scandal, but to hear it talked of in the future could wound Darcy anew by bringing to mind painful memories.
Jane laughed when she noticed her frown. “Oh, Lizzy, you do not see it yet, but you soon shall!”
“What do you mean?”
“You do not comprehend what it means to be Mrs Darcy.” Jane then lifted her eyes to the plasterwork on the ceiling and ran her hand over the sofa’s fabric, smiling.
“No one would dare take the word of Mother Cuthbert or Lydia over Mrs Darcy, or cast doubt on the good name of Mr Darcy over something so trivial as what month he married or in what place.” Jane drew an arm around Elizabeth, as though she were one of her children.
“It will hardly matter after you have been married a year, or ten years.”
She would have years with Darcy, rather than weeks. They could have children; they could see more of the world. It was still strange to once again think of the future, to have hope and to make plans.
“Lizzy?” Jane sounded serious, and Elizabeth sat up to look inquiringly at her.
“Darcy appears respectable, reserved yet candid—I think him a good sort of man—but he kept the truth from you. His wealth and position are to your advantage of course, but are you angry? If you are, you ought to tell him. I would hate for you to grow resentful about his deception.”
“I have been frank with Darcy.” She would not admit to marrying him only because she thought she was going to die.
Only Colonel Fitzwilliam knew the truth of her mistaken heart ailment, and he was too delighted for his cousin’s sake to be angered by her error.
“Darcy was not honest by omitting to tell me who he truly was.” Although she had been wrong, facing her death had granted her a perspective, a resolve, that none but those who had a fatal diagnosis could understand.
“But I know how exquisitely precious happiness is, and how fragile it is. I will not harbour resentment, not when Darcy loves me so dearly and feels so guilty.”