Chapter 24
E lizabeth adjusted her shawl as she walked beside Jane toward the housekeeper’s room, her steps echoing softly on the polished wooden floor. Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley followed a few paces behind, their quiet conversation blending harmoniously with the calm atmosphere of Netherfield. Despite the serenity of the house, Elizabeth could feel Jane’s nervousness radiating like a faint tremor.
“Jane,” Elizabeth said softly, laying a reassuring hand on her sister’s arm. “You have nothing to worry about. Mrs. Nicholls is a kind and capable woman. She’ll be glad to meet with you.”
Jane exhaled shakily, glancing down at the small notebook she carried. “I wrote a few ideas, but I’m afraid they’re terribly simple. What if she thinks I’m… inadequate?”
Elizabeth chuckled softly, giving her sister’s hand a squeeze. “Mrs. Nicholls is not some ogre— or even Mr. Collins’s patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh! She is practical and fair-minded, and she will appreciate your thoughtfulness. Remember, you are the mistress now—it’s your kindness and sense that will guide the household, not an endless list of rules.”
Mrs. Nicholls stood as they entered Jane’s new office, her calm and competent demeanor immediately setting a tone of professionalism. The room itself was cozy and efficient, with a large desk neatly arranged with ledgers, a small bouquet of winter roses brightening the space. “Good morning, Mrs. Bingley, Mrs. Darcy,” she said, curtsying deeply. “And Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley, a good morning to you as well.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Nicholls,” Jane said, her voice soft but warm. “Thank you for meeting with us. I know the shifts must feel sudden.”
Mrs. Nicholls smiled kindly. “Not at all, Mrs. Bingley. I’ve heard much about you from Mrs. Hill, and I assure you, the household is pleased to have you here.”
Jane’s cheeks pinked with modesty, and she exchanged a glance with Elizabeth. “Thank you, Mrs. Nicholls. That is very kind.”
Elizabeth, sensing Jane’s hesitation, stepped in smoothly. “Mrs. Nicholls, my sister has a few matters she’d like to discuss, and I know she values your experience and advice. For instance, she was wondering about menu planning.”
“Oh yes,” Jane said, her voice growing steadier. “I would like to work with you on the menus, though I don’t want to disrupt the household routines unnecessarily.”
Mrs. Nicholls nodded. “It would be a pleasure, Mrs. Bingley. The Christmas season always brings opportunities to refresh the table. Have you any particular preferences or traditions?”
Jane hesitated, glancing at Elizabeth. “Perhaps something simple but festive? I trust your judgment.”
Elizabeth added, “Jane has always been a wonderful hostess, Mrs. Nicholls, but she’s not one for excessive opulence. I’m sure your expertise will make the planning smooth.”
Mrs. Nicholls smiled again, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Of course, Mrs. Darcy. We’ll ensure everything is balanced and tasteful.”
The conversation turned to decorating, and Jane broached the topic tentatively. “I wondered about redoing the mistress’s chambers. Would there be any pieces stored in the attic that could be used? I wouldn’t want to waste funds unnecessarily.”
Mrs. Nicholls’s face lit up. “A very sensible idea, Mrs. Bingley. There are several fine pieces stored away—many of them antiques. If you like, I can have the footmen bring them down for your inspection.”
Jane nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Mrs. Nicholls. That sounds perfect.”
“And the parlor,” Elizabeth interjected, her voice steady. “We’d like to see it refreshed, especially considering the events that occurred there.”
Mrs. Nicholls’s expression turned serious. “A wise choice, Mrs. Darcy. It will help to put certain… unpleasant memories to rest.”
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who looked thoughtful. “Perhaps lighter colors?” Jane suggested. “Something cheerful but not garish. And fresh flowers, if possible.”
“An excellent idea,” Mrs. Nicholls said approvingly. “We can arrange for new draperies and rugs in softer hues. I’ll consult with the upholsterer.”
Elizabeth leaned forward slightly. “I also think we should have the locks changed,” she said. “On the doors, the tea caddy, everything. Miss Bingley, as mistress, had copies of the keys. I don’t want to take any risks.”
Mrs. Nicholls gave a sharp nod. “An excellent precaution, Mrs. Darcy. I’ll see to it immediately.”
Georgiana, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. “Do you think Miss Bingley will return?”
Elizabeth hesitated, her gaze softening as she turned to Darcy’s younger sister. “I don’t know, Georgiana. But we’re staying through Christmas, and we’ll remain here until the weather warms enough for Andrew to travel safely to London.”
Georgiana nodded, her trust in Elizabeth evident. Mrs. Nicholls glanced at her with a kind smile. “Miss Darcy, if there are any particular arrangements you’d like, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Mrs. Annesley, who had been silent thus far, offered a measured suggestion. “Perhaps some adjustments to the music room, Miss Darcy? It might be a pleasant project for the colder months.”
Georgiana brightened at the idea. “Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you.”
The discussion moved on to other details—household expenses, holiday preparations, and minor repairs—and by the time the meeting concluded, Jane’s confidence seemed to have grown. As Mrs. Nicholls curtsied and left to begin her tasks, Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley excused themselves as well.
Elizabeth turned to Jane with a warm smile. “You were marvelous, Jane. Mrs. Nicholls respects you already.”
Jane blushed but looked pleased. “I hope so. She seems so capable—I didn’t want to overstep.”
“You struck the perfect balance,” Elizabeth assured her. “Firm but kind. It’s clear you’re exactly what Netherfield needs.”
Jane hesitated, then said softly, “Thank you, Lizzy. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Elizabeth smiled, taking her hand. “Nonsense, Jane. You’re a natural at this.”
Jane shook her head, her blush deepening. “Perhaps. But I do feel overwhelmed at times. I’m so grateful for Charles and his support. Lizzy, he’s…” She paused, a radiant smile spreading across her face. “He’s wonderful. I never imagined it could feel like this—to love and be loved so completely.”
Elizabeth’s chest tightened, a pang of envy slicing through her. She managed a small, forced smile. “I’m glad, Jane. Truly.”
Jane studied her for a moment, her expression softening. “And Mr. Darcy? He seems so devoted to you.”
Elizabeth looked away, her voice carefully neutral. “He is very kind. He treats me well.”
Jane’s smile widened. “Isn’t it wonderful? To be married to men who love us?”
Elizabeth nodded, the ache in her heart deepening. “Yes. Wonderful.”
The conversation turned to lighter topics, but Elizabeth’s thoughts lingered on Jane’s words. As much as she wanted to share in her sister’s joy, she couldn’t ignore the aching uncertainty in her own heart. Her marriage was not what Jane believed it to be, and though Darcy’s kindness had touched her deeply, she couldn’t shake the fear that their bond would never grow into what her sister so clearly had with Bingley.
As Jane spoke, Elizabeth clung to the thought of the Gardiners’ impending arrival. Their presence would be a much-needed respite, a reminder of the warmth and love she had always found in their company. For now, she would hold on to that hope and do her best to face the days ahead.
She pushed her own worries aside, focusing instead on the quiet joy radiating from her sister. For Jane’s sake, she would pretend—for now—that everything was as perfect as it seemed.
∞∞∞
The next few days passed in a similar manner. Mornings, the ladies were often found in company with one another. The afternoon passed pleasantly in the warmth of the nursery for Darcy and Elizabeth, where they would spend time with Andrew. The boy’s giggles and wide smiles lightened Elizabeth’s heart, and she was grateful for the quiet joy of the moment.
The household gathered together for dinner in the evenings for music and cards. The nights were spent in the quiet intimacy of their bedchambers to discuss the day and their observations on all that had occurred. Elizabeth found comfort in her husband’s unwavering kindness, while he cherished her courage and wit.
It was clear that each was still tentative in their new roles as husband and wife. Elizabeth wasn’t certain how she felt about the fact that other than their first night married, Darcy would return to his own chambers to sleep after their discourse. Other than on their wedding night, he had not made any overtures to resume physical intimacy.
Perhaps he finds me displeasing?
This insecurity was reinforced one morning when she awoke to realize that Darcy never left her bed after she had fallen asleep mid-conversation. Instead, he had fallen asleep sitting next to her and remained the entire night, just as he had on their wedding night. Her movements had woken him, and he had blushed furiously before hastily retreating through the door that adjoined their rooms.
Now is not the time for such thoughts , she told herself as she stood in her bedroom before her mirror. Perhaps… perhaps I can discuss it with him tonight.
The sky was dark as the maid she’d been assigned carefully arranging the final touches to her hair. The dress Elizabeth had chosen was a rich shade of royal blue, simple yet elegant, and the firelight danced on the delicate embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The maid stepped back, smoothing the folds of the gown before moving to adjust a curl that had strayed.
"You look lovely, madam," the maid said, stepping back to admire her work.
"Thank you, Betsy," Elizabeth replied, her voice soft but sincere. She glanced at her reflection, feeling a flutter of nervousness as she prepared to face another evening in her new role as Mrs. Darcy.
The door opened behind her, and Elizabeth turned to see Darcy entering the room. His eyes immediately sought hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. His gaze, warm and intent, swept over her before lingering on her face.
"Elizabeth," he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet admiration.
Betsy curtsied hastily and moved toward the door, hesitating, but Darcy’s gentle nod dismissed her entirely. The maid shot Elizabeth a quick smile before disappearing, leaving the newlyweds alone.
Darcy stepped closer, his eyes not straying from Elizabeth's as he reached out to take her hand. "I find myself constantly amazed," he said, his tone soft. "You are even more radiant than I remember from this morning."
Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed, but she laughed lightly to deflect her shyness. "You flatter me, Fitzwilliam."
His lips curved into a faint smile. "It is no flattery; merely the truth." He hesitated, then glanced at the door through which the maid had disappeared. "I must arrange for you to have your own lady's maid—someone you are comfortable with and who will attend to your needs exclusively."
Elizabeth tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eye. “Will there be anyone willing to work for me if word spreads that they’re dismissed from the room so abruptly?”
Darcy chuckled, the sound low and rich. "They will have to grow accustomed to it. I intend to spend as much time alone with my wife as possible. Let them see it as romantic.”
His words sent a flutter through her chest, and she looked down, fiddling with the lace at her sleeve. Darcy stepped closer, bowing his head slightly to lift her hand. He pressed a kiss to the backs of her fingers, his eyes never leaving hers. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice tinged with both tenderness and concern.
"I am… well," she replied, her cheeks coloring slightly under his intense scrutiny.
He straightened, hesitating briefly before continuing. “I feel I should apologize for still being here when you awoke this morning.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly, confused. “Why would you apologize for that?”
“Most ladies and gentlemen prefer to sleep separately,” he explained. “Separate rooms, separate beds. It’s not uncommon.”
Elizabeth hesitated, gathering her courage before speaking. “I… I never minded my sisters climbing into my bed when we were younger. And I liked that you were there.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, her cheeks flaming as the words tumbled out. Darcy’s expression softened into something that left her breathless—a mix of tenderness, gratitude, and wonder.
“You liked it?” he asked, his voice low.
Elizabeth nodded shyly, her heart pounding in her chest. “I.. I did.”
The look on his face made her admission feel worthwhile. He hesitated, his hand tightening ever so slightly around hers. "Elizabeth," he began carefully, "may I… may I come to you again tonight?"
Her breath caught. The question hung between them, and she felt her cheeks grow hotter. He hastily added, “You are always free to say no. I will not be hurt or offended.”
Elizabeth's pulse quickened, and her gaze dropped to her hands as she nodded. "You may come any time you wish," she said quietly, her voice trembling with vulnerability.
Darcy’s hand lifted to tilt her chin gently upward, his eyes searching hers. "Are you certain?" he asked, his tone serious yet tender.
Her lips parted, and after a moment, she nodded again, this time meeting his gaze directly. Warmth radiated from her eyes, filling him with a sudden, undeniable hope.
A slow smile spread across his face, and he leaned down to brush a soft, lingering kiss against her lips. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
His lips captured hers ones again in a kiss that was impossibly soft, filled with an unspoken promise. He lingered, the touch of his lips growing deeper, more insistent. Elizabeth felt herself respond instinctively, her hands brushing against his chest, when a sharp knock on the door shattered the intimate moment.
"Elizabeth?" Georgiana’s voice called hesitantly from the other side. "Would you like to walk down to supper together?"
Elizabeth pulled back, her cheeks flushed. She cast Darcy a quick glance before replying, "Yes, of course, Georgiana. I’ll join you in a moment."
"Shall I ask William to join us as well?" Georgiana asked, her tone uncertain.
Darcy stepped back and raised his voice slightly. "There’s no need, Georgiana. I’ll come out with Elizabeth."
The silence on the other side of the door was deafening before Georgiana stammered, "Oh—oh, my apologies! I didn’t realize you were… Oh dear, I’ll wait at the stairs!"
Elizabeth clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she looked up at Darcy. "You’ve scandalized her," she teased.
Darcy smirked faintly, offering her his arm. "She’ll recover. Shall we?"
Elizabeth nodded, stepping toward the door. “It’s a transition for all of us.”
They joined Georgiana in the hallway, who was still pink with embarrassment. Elizabeth looped her arm through the younger woman’s, offering a reassuring smile. “You did nothing wrong, Georgiana,” she said gently. “We’re all making adjustments, but that’s part of becoming a family.”
Georgiana nodded, though her cheeks remained pink. "It’s just… I don’t remember my brother ever being in my cousin Anne’s room, at least not that I noticed."
Elizabeth hesitated, then said gently, "Different people have different preferences. I cannot speak for the late Mrs. Darcy, but I, for one, enjoy your brother’s company."
Georgiana’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded again, her lips curving into a shy smile. Darcy’s gaze flickered to Elizabeth with an expression she couldn’t quite place.
Together, the three entered the parlor to wait for the dinner announcement. Elizabeth felt a sense of ease settle over her, though her gaze frequently strayed to Darcy, whose presence filled the room with a quiet, commanding warmth. They exchanged light conversation with Georgiana as they awaited Mrs. Hurst, Bingley, and Jane to join them.
Elizabeth took a seat on the settee near the fire, Georgiana settling beside her, while Darcy stood near the mantle, his hands clasped behind his back. The flickering flames cast a soft glow over the room, lending an air of intimacy to the quiet space. The hum of conversation between Elizabeth and Georgiana wove through the air, light and pleasant, though Elizabeth was acutely aware of Darcy’s steady gaze lingering on her from across the room.
When Bingley and Jane entered, arm in arm, their smiles brightened the room, and the atmosphere warmed further. Mrs. Hurst— Louisa now, Lizzy; don’t forget —followed shortly after, her expression subdued but polite as she took her place. Darcy moved to stand beside Elizabeth’s chair, his closeness both grounding and invigorating. All was as it had been for the past few evenings, a comfortable rhythm settling over the household.
The door creaked open, and the butler stepped into the room. Elizabeth glanced up, expecting to hear the familiar announcement that dinner was ready. Several guests began to rise, Darcy included, but the butler hesitated, his usually stoic demeanor replaced by an unusual stiffness. His hand fidgeted at his side, and his gaze darted uneasily around the room.
Bingley was threading Jane’s arm through his own, oblivious to the tension in the air. Elizabeth and Darcy seemed to be the only ones aware that anything was amiss. He straightened instantly and crossed the room to Elizabeth, reaching for her hand. She felt a prickle of foreboding well up within her.
“Mr. Roberts?” Darcy’s brow furrowed as he addressed the man. “Is something amiss?”
Poor man, Elizabeth thought with dread as the butler shifted uncomfortably while clearing his throat, his cheeks faintly flushed. “I… I beg your pardon, sir, but there are… unexpected visitors.”
The room grew still, the air taut with curiosity and unease. Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane, whose brow knit with concern, while Georgiana’s hands clenched the folds of her gown. Darcy’s expression hardened. “Who has come?” he asked.
The lump on the butler’s throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. “Mr. and Mrs. Wickham,” he announced at last, the words falling like a thunderclap.
The room erupted into gasps and murmurs, the collective shock tangible. Elizabeth felt her stomach lurch as the words registered, her breath catching in her throat. She glanced toward Darcy, whose face had hardened into a mask of cold fury. His dark eyes burned with restrained anger, his hand tightening into a fist at his side.
Beside her, Georgiana emitted a faint, almost imperceptible gasp, her hands trembling as she clutched the folds of her gown. Jane’s face mirrored Elizabeth’s shock, while Bingley sat frozen in place, his usual genial expression replaced with a blank stare of disbelief. Even Louisa looked startled, her pale complexion growing even whiter.
The butler stepped aside to allow the intruders to enter. Into the room strode none other than George Wickham, his grin as self-assured and insolent as ever, making Elizabeth’s skin crawl. His gait had the easy arrogance of a man who knew he had nothing to lose and thrived on chaos.
Beside him was Caroline—no longer Miss Bingley—her hand resting possessively on Wickham’s arm, with a sneer of defiance and triumph gracing her lips. Her gaze swept over the room with haughty disdain, as though daring anyone to challenge her presence, her chin raised as she met their eyes with a predatory air.
“Good evening,” Wickham drawled, his voice dripping with smug confidence. “I trust we’re not interrupting anything too important.”