Chapter 19
Mrs. Reynolds told Elizabeth that every drop of alcohol from Pemberley was gone.
It had taken longer than both women had hoped, for Pemberley was filled with intimate nooks and storerooms where a determined man could hide as much as he wanted.
The housekeeper had sent servants out in shifts to scour every room.
It was an activity which set their dislike for Mrs. Darcy in stone, but Mrs. Reynolds refused to let them give up.
Now, she proudly told her mistress, the house was dry. Even the warming flasks that the gamekeepers kept in their huts were thrown away. The only decanter that remained was…
“What, why is there still a decanter?” Elizabeth interrupted, “I told you to get rid of all of them.”
“We cannot take it, ma’am. It is in Mr. Darcy’s private chamber.”
“But that is all the more reason to take it! We are doing this for his sake.”
“We are, madam, but…” the older woman hesitated, and then looked her mistress directly in the eye, “He is our master, ma’am. We cannot steal from him. You do not know what it means for a servant to do that. If we take something from his private rooms, he will be furious.”
“Very well.” Elizabeth replied, cutting the woman’s protestations off with a raised hand, “I know you must be careful. I shall go and get it myself. Where is it?”
Mrs. Reynolds eyed her worriedly, then sighed.
“In his sitting room, madam, in the cabinet beside the writing desk. Mrs. Darcy, if I may be so bold: the servants already gossip about you. I have tried to correct them, but I cannot prevent every whisper. Their opinion is based on Mr. Darcy’s conduct towards you…
and he did you no favours by abandoning you at your very arrival. ”
“I told him to go.”
“You did, and I understand why, but they do not. I cannot explain matters to them without sounding like I am making excuses. They are loyal to their master and honestly think you have coerced him into a marriage which he does not want. It was so sudden, ma’am. He ignores you, and so do they.”
“He ignores me because he is with his sister.”
“Those are the actions of a husband, madam, but not the actions of a man in love. That is what they say, at least.”
Elizabeth blushed but bluntly said: “We married for convenience alone. There is no harm in the servants knowing that. Why are you telling me this now, Mrs. Reynolds?”
“Because you are planning to undermine the master’s orders, madam. If they know you are doing it, then it will only add to their dislike.”
“So, you are warning me to be circumspect.” Elizabeth sighed, then gave the servant a crooked smile, “It is a strange feeling to sneak around one’s own house, Mrs. Reynolds. I suppose that is why it does not yet feel like my home.”
“It will, ma’am.” Mrs. Reynolds gave her an encouraging look, then gave her a broad smile.
There was mischief in her eyes. “The billiards room needs redecorating, ma’am.
Choose a colour that you like. The master dislikes green, but I think it will suit the cherry wood rather well.
Oh, and you must choose fabric for the curtains in the morning room, they are rather faded.
If it doesn’t feel like your home, Mrs. Darcy, then you must make your mark on it. ”
Lizzie laughed. “I wouldn’t know where to start!”
“You give me the orders, madam, and I will do the rest.” the servant unexpectedly winked, which made Elizabeth laugh again.
Then she waved a hand towards the door. “There is a secret passage between the small library and Lady Anne’s old room, and an adjoining door between the master bedrooms. You can get into Mr. Darcy’s rooms without anyone seeing, ma’am. ”
Elizabeth had never thought of the housekeeper as cunning. The realisation amused her while she followed the directions. The passageway was dark and smelled of old dust. When she opened the door at the end of it, fresh air filled her lungs.
Lady Anne’s rooms were bright and airy. They were twice the size of Elizabeth’s room but had an understated elegance that made them feel modest. The furniture was very fine, carefully polished even though the rooms were unused.
A washbasin sat on a washstand whose filigree was so cleverly made that it barely looked able to hold the weight.
Elizabeth ran her fingers along the dressing table, marvelling at the large mirror and the beautifully blushing varnish.
A small hand mirror had been carefully placed on a lace doily.
Lizzie could not help picking it up. It was as light as a feather, with exquisitely crafted silver around the glass.
She turned it over and saw a painted rose on the back.
It was pink, but the artist had managed to pick out highlights in a way that made them shine like the silver frame.
This was not her room, nor her mirror. Lizzie felt like an intruder, and she wasn’t even in Darcy’s rooms yet! Putting the mirror down, she found the adjoining door and carefully clicked it open. It was not locked. It swung easily forward on oiled hinges and she slipped silently through.
The large decanter was the first thing she saw. Like her husband, her eyes had learned to seek out such things. Once again, she was tasked with hiding them. But was it really the only one? She looked around the room and gasped.
This was even larger than Lady Anne’s room.
It was undeniably masculine, with darker walls and chestnut furniture.
There was no dainty filigree to be seen.
Instead, everything was solid and sturdy.
Like his mother’s room, Darcy seemed to dislike unnecessary clutter.
His few personal belongings were neatly arranged in their proper places.
Inhaling, Elizabeth caught the whisper of her husband’s scent.
It hid beneath the smells of beeswax and leather, tantalising and fleeting.
She breathed in again and suddenly realised how much she missed him.
Darcy had been her constant companion during the worst weeks of her life.
He laughed when she did, held her closely when she cried, and told her things about the world that she had never thought of before.
She associated the scent with quiet evenings writing letters together, and with moments where they had sat in the grass and caught their breath during their walks.
Most melancholy of all was her memory of their last few days together. They had both known their gentle reprieve was coming to an end. As practical as they tried to be, they had come to cherish the sanctuary they found in each other’s company.
On the last night, when they had parted after dinner, Darcy had abruptly pulled her into his arms. He kissed her forehead, not her lips, and stroked her hair. Lizzie closed her eyes and leaned against his chest, wrapping her own arms around his back.
They did not speak, and when they parted, they shared no lingering looks. But Elizabeth carried the scent of bergamot and sage into her bed that night and dreamed of gentle fingers in her hair.
Shaking herself out of her daydream, Lizzie finished her circuit of the room. There seemed to be no other decanters, and every step made her feel more uncomfortable for intruding. She lifted the decanter up, gasping at the heavy combination of crystal and port.
“What are you doing?”
The decanter trembled in her hands, and she put it back down with a clonk. Whirling around, Elizabeth saw that the thick coverlet on the bed was moving. Mr. Darcy’s black eyes were looking out at her. He had been completely concealed.
“I… I…!” Elizabeth gasped and clutched the edge of the table in her shock. “I did not know you were here.”
“I was sleeping.” he pushed himself up and gave her a challenging look which was spoiled by a yawn. “Are you spying on me, angel?”
“I…” she babbled again and then raised her chin. Her shock had faded. “Mrs. Reynolds told me that you had a decanter in here. I wanted to lock it away with the others.”
“The others?” he rubbed his eyes wearily.
“Yes. We’ve locked them all in the wine cellar.”
He looked nonplussed for a moment and then let out a strangled laugh. “How very singular. Mrs. Reynolds didn’t want to venture in here herself, I take it.”
“She said she couldn’t steal from you, sir. I said that I…” her voice trailed off when she stared at him. A knot twisted in her stomach, and the words came out before she knew it. “Oh, I’ve missed you, sir.”
“If you’re going to say such lovely things, Elizabeth, you should stop calling me ‘sir’. It’s excessively formal, since you are in my bedroom.”
She blushed and stared at the floor. “Yes. I didn’t know you were in here.”
“You already said that.” Darcy yawned again and swung his legs out of bed. Elizabeth was both amazed and relieved to see that he was fully dressed. He pulled the blankets back up neatly before turning to face her. “Don’t look so nervous, Elizabeth. I am not angry, just surprised.”
“So am I.” she laughed shortly, “I thought you were still in the music room.”
He did not answer that but looked away. When he recovered, he crossed the room and rested his fingers on the decanter.
The stopper let out a soft clink. He tipped it absentmindedly to the side and watched the dark red port flow onto the flawless crystal.
His face took on the distant, hungry look that always made Elizabeth nervous.
It generally meant he was a few minutes away from a furious outburst.
“I missed you, too.” he murmured instead, and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You do not look convinced.”
“I must ask myself if you mean it, sir, or if you are simply trying to flatter me, to coerce me to leave the decanter here.”
“I do mean it. Have I ever been manipulative?”
“No, sir. You are generally very forthright.”
“Exactly. I abhor artifice, Elizabeth, and all of the weaknesses it masks. I can also tell when other people are masking their feelings. You, for example, are incapable of calling me by name. You must call me sir, even though I told you not to - because you are afraid of me.”
“No.” she protested, and then acceded with a sigh, “I am not scared of you, sir, only of what you become when you want to drink.”
“There is the ‘sir’ again, and another astute observation. I am not pleasant company when I want to drink, because it forces me to wear a mask. I did not bother when I was in Meryton. The man beneath that tree is not a stranger to me. When I want to drink, that is the man I become. I could not simply stop drinking and banish him. He is me. I can only conceal him, I cannot pretend he does not exist. My sister, I must tell you, is quite the reverse. She discovered her monster, and now she wears it on her flesh.”
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked, her skin tingling. Darcy pushed the decanter in the other direction.
Clink.
“I will tell you in time.”
“In time! Surely when I meet her…”
“No.” his voice was suddenly harsh. “You are not to go in there. You shall never set foot in that room.”
“But…” Elizabeth’s jaw had dropped in amazement, “The very reason you brought me here…”
“I forbid it.” he snapped. She shrank back, making Darcy look panicked. All of the command fell from his voice, and he shook his head. “Elizabeth, Georgiana is not just sick. I think she will frighten you. I love her dearly, but even I cannot stand the darkness that surrounds her. Please obey me.”
The woman did not answer at first but chewed her lip and stared at the ground. The softness in her husband’s voice was unmistakable. She looked up and did not see any doubt in his eyes. He was quite determined, and he never felt such conviction without a good deal of evidence to support it.
Still, curiosity burned in her soul. Elizabeth felt her stomach twist, because even when she nodded, she knew that she would disobey.
I’m lying to you. She thought, when Darcy smiled. Do not look at me that way.
Darcy looked back down at the decanter. When he had spoken about his sister, his hand had unconsciously closed around the neck. With a muttered curse, he let go. The stopper rattled against the lip.
Clink.
“I am going to keep this.” he said abruptly, “I do not ask for your permission, Elizabeth. I shall promise you that I will never drink it, but it will remain in my room.”
She opened her mouth to argue, and Darcy pressed his finger to her lips to silence her. Amazed, Lizzie stared at him. He smiled crookedly and moved his hand - not away, but to cup her cheek.
“My sweet angel.” he said, “You can keep the rest of it locked away. I shall not challenge you. It will help me to know that nobody in this house can drink, including me. But you must allow me my pride. Every morning, I want to wake up and know that I have kept that pathetic man under his tree. I want this to be the first thing I see, so that I can tell it that I have beaten it.”
“Looking your enemy in the eye, you mean?” she asked, barely moving.
The soft caress of his fingers against her cheek made her feel frozen into place, not with cold but with a tender warmth.
She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them with a mischievous look, “I think you have discovered another way to coerce me, sir. I fear I will agree to anything you say.”
Darcy blinked, confused, and then seemed to realise that he was touching her. Going red, he took his hand away and mumbled an apology. Elizabeth wished that she had not teased him. She suddenly felt lonely again.
“I shall not argue, Mr. Darcy, but I must insist on a compromise.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“In the morning, after you wake, I will join you. If the level of port has gone down then I shall know about it at once, and you will allow me to lock it away with the rest.”
“It shall not be touched.” he promised fiercely, “I do not need you to check.”
Elizabeth reached towards him and shyly took his hand. His fingers closed around hers at once, but the implacable expression remained on his stubborn face.
“It is not for your sake, but for mine. I will begin my day reassured, and you shall not feel like you are fighting this battle alone.”
The stubborn expression faded slowly, and his free hand rose back to her cheek.
“Oh, my angel.” Darcy said softly, “I do not deserve you.”
“Probably not,” she replied with a smile, then turned her head and kissed his palm, “But I am yours.”