Chapter 33
After several awful, tense days, a letter arrived from Meryton.
Elizabeth cried out and snatched it from the plate at once, tearing it open before the surprised footman even had chance to walk away.
Darcy watched the blood drain from her face as she read, and then she let out a great sigh of relief and laughed.
Darcy kissed her cheek when he took the letter from her hand.
Bingley sent news that Jane had been liberated from Longbourn.
He was painfully vague on the details, which made Darcy uneasy.
He knew that his honest friend would only obscure the truth if it was sure to cause pain.
Still, he did not express his pessimism to Elizabeth.
Once more, news from home had made her burst into tears, but this time they were those of joy.
She gave directions to the servants to prepare rooms at once.
A second letter followed the following day, however, that delayed her arrangements.
Mr. Bingley explained that the party would not be coming to Pemberley for a few weeks.
Since the pretence was that Caroline Bingley was treating Jane to one last holiday, it would raise Mrs. Bennet’s suspicions for them to go straight to her unfilial daughter in Pemberley.
Nobody wanted to give the woman any cause to demand her daughter’s return.
Accordingly, the Bingleys had decided to stay in London for a time with Bingley’s other sister, Mrs. Hurst.
Bingley carefully added that Caroline had suggested the detour even before the issue crossed his mind. It was a convenient diversion for his sister, he pointed out, as she had many social engagements she refused to miss.
“At least Jane is safe.” Elizabeth said, breathing out for what felt like the first time in years. “Miss Bingley can do what she wants, with my blessing. As long as Jane is away from Longbourn, she can do no wrong.”
“You have not met Miss Bingley, I see.” Darcy replied drily, “Nonetheless, I agree.”
Thus reassured, if impatient, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy turned their attention back to one another.
Elizabeth almost felt guilty, for she was pleased to have an extra month alone with her husband.
Even after spending so long in the same house with him, they barely knew each other. It was time to change that.
They had already returned to spending the mornings together.
There was no decanter to guard anymore, but they found other excuses to meet.
Darcy discussed Georgiana, smiling at the tiny signs of progress she made each day.
Elizabeth discussed Jane and thought seriously about ways to help her.
Mostly, though, they sat in their old comfortable silence.
Lizzie brought her tea, Darcy drank his coffee, and they sat beside the fire.
Of course, Lizzie would never dream of accidentally arriving in her nightclothes, and neither of them ventured the thought of taking a single item of clothing off.
Elizabeth had felt adrift at Pemberley before.
The house had always run perfectly without her.
Whenever she tried to ask about a routine or a detail, the servants shrugged and carried on with their tasks.
Now, they wanted to please her. They actively sought her out to offer information and ideas and deliberately changed some of the house’s long-standing rules to accommodate the new mistress’s preferences.
The gardeners, for example, traditionally disappeared to other tasks when one of the ladies walked into their part of the garden. Their betters were there to look at the flowers, not to see pruning and weeding carried out by sweaty servants. The gardeners were explicitly told to be invisible.
“What nonsense!” Elizabeth protested when one of the gardeners politely explained it to her. “Did those women think that weeds disappeared by magic? No, you must do your work and not mind me.”
Elizabeth decided to move into Lady Anne’s room the day after she and Darcy were reconciled.
Every morning, her careful walk from her room to Darcy’s seemed longer and longer.
Slipping through an adjoining door was easier - and far more appropriate for the mistress of Pemberley than creeping through the halls.
Certainly, her husband had no objection, and told her that the only reason he had not given her Lady Anne’s room from the outset was to give her some privacy.
“That may be so, and I thank you,” Elizabeth said cautiously, “But it affected how the servants treated me. Perhaps it may be better for us to make such decisions together, from now on.”
“Of course.” he replied at once, then smiled crookedly, “When you first met me, my thoughts were often clouded. Every day, Elizabeth, a little more clarity returns to my mind. I shall admit that sometimes my judgements are still unsound.”
“I am just as fallible, sir! Perhaps we can prevent each other from making mistakes.”
He kissed her hand, meeting her eyes, and said, “That is my hope too, madam.”
Elizabeth felt a little guilty for wanting to make changes to Lady Anne’s room.
It was lovely the way that it was, and held much of the departed lady’s personality within it.
However, she had grown fond of some of the items in her old room: a washstand that looked a lot less fragile than Lady Anne’s filigree confection, for example.
There was also a dark green blanket, crocheted in an elaborate pineapple stitch, which Lizzie liked to cuddle up in when she read a book.
It looked rather out of place against the delicate pastel room.
Mrs. Reynolds ordered matching linen at once and asked if her mistress wanted to replace the curtains to something more suited.
“More green, you mean? Darcy dislikes the colour.”
“So, madam? It is not his room, it is yours. You told me that green is your favourite colour.”
“Yes, it is.” Elizabeth idly stroked the comforting knots of her blanket. “Very well. Perhaps you might also find some sea-green vases, Mrs. Reynolds, and a blue rug to tie it all together?”
Redecorating the billiards room had been fun; decorating her own room was a delight.
Elizabeth had never had the opportunity to make a space her own, and her room at Longbourn had been personalised only by the means of a few inexpensive paintings.
Now, she had the chance to create something uniquely her own.
There was only one thing which she felt unable to change.
There had been a painting in her old room of a woodland at dawn.
She was very fond of losing herself in the wistful pink sky, dreaming of walking through such a beautiful glen.
Her plan to move it to pride of place in her new room was halted when she discovered Lady Anne’s portrait already mounted there.
The woman’s dark eyes, so much like her son’s, stared directly at the bed. They did not encourage restful sleep.
It was a rather intimate portrait, unsuitable for being placed in the gallery where others could see it. Perhaps she should leave it, Lizzie thought dubiously, as a tribute to Lady Anne. But she could not bear being watched! In the end, she turned to Darcy for his guidance.
“What about the small library?” He suggested, “Only the family go there, and it was mother’s favourite room.”
“You do not mind me moving it?” she asked nervously.
“Not at all! I adored my mother, but I would not like to sleep with her staring at me. Do whatever you like, angel.”
The affectionate nickname always made Elizabeth’s skin tingle. Mumbling something idiotic, she curtseyed and hurried away to find Mrs. Reynolds.
That night she dreamed of Darcy standing over her bed, his black eyes unreadable in the firelight. He was painted in rich oils and surrounded by dawn-lit trees. He did not move, of course. Paintings could not move. Yet she felt his hands on every inch of her body.
It was impossible to Elizabeth to look Darcy in the eye that morning.
Instead, she stared at the steam rising from her cup of tea.
She could not look to the left, where her husband sat.
Certainly, she could not look to the right, at the sleep-creased bed and the dark red stain on the wall.
Darcy had refused to have it painted over, telling his exasperated wife that it kept him honest. Elizabeth could not look at it without remembering their night together.
Their eyes had to meet eventually. Still stricken by her dream, Elizabeth found that she could not look away. Her cheeks burned. She was amazed to see an answering blush on Darcy’s face.
“Did you dream about me too?” she blurted out and then raised her fingers to her lips in horror. She had tried to speak teasingly! How dare her voice sound so breathy?
Darcy looked directly at her and spoke bluntly. “I dream about you every night, Elizabeth.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth tried to look serene but could not prevent a smile and a shy dimple, “That’s… that’s nice.”
The man sipped his coffee and carefully put the cup down on the table. “Shall we talk about it?”
Lizzie went even redder. “I could never…! How can you even talk about such things?”
“They are facts, madam, not secrets. There is nothing shameful in acknowledging them.” he said drily, “Would you prefer me to hide behind metaphor? I meant that if we have both been stricken by the same symptom, perhaps together we can seek a remedy.”
“What do you suggest?” Elizabeth tried to sound as cool and brazen as he, but she could not stop herself from glancing at the bed. Darcy held up his hand to draw her focus back to him, then shook his head.
“May I break a promise I made to you, angel?”
Lizzie stared at him, baffled. Darcy leaned forwards, not to take her hands as he often had before, but to lower his voice.
“Elizabeth, on our wedding day I promised that I would not seduce you. I ask you to release me from that vow.”
“Haven’t we already…?” she mumbled, dazed. Darcy grimaced.
“That was not seduction, dearest. Far from it. I do not want that.”
“I do.” Elizabeth admitted in a low whisper.
Darcy laughed, “I lectured you on keeping secrets, and you are far more honest than I. Yes, then, I confess that I do, too. I dream about you in a rather compromising position. Several compromising positions, in fact. I fully intend to share those dreams with you, my love, but not yet. First, you must learn that they are not seduction.”
“I do not understand, sir. Since we both want…” Elizabeth’s mouth went dry, and if her cheeks went any hotter, she thought she would burst into flames. How could one man say yes and no in the same words?
“Elizabeth, listen to me. I love every part of you. Yes, I love your body, but no less than your spirit, your courage… even the rather irritating way you tease me. I do not think I have ever shown you how much I love you, I have only said it. I intend to change that. Free me from my promise, and I shall treat you the way an angel deserves.”
“Do you mean… flowers? Gifts? Hymns and cherubs?”
“I am sure that some of them will be among my endeavours, yes.”
“And you do not want to… that is to say, you do not intend for us to…?”
“Not yet.” he answered in a low voice that made her shiver, “But when we are ready, Elizabeth, I will treat you like a goddess.”
Elizabeth could find no way to answer that, short of wrapping her arms around her stomach.
She bought some time to think by sipping her tea.
It had gone cold, but it was rather fun to see the suspense on Darcy’s face.
It made her innocent blushes seem rather foolish, and her quick wit resurfaced. Smiling, she put her cup down.
“It seems to me, Mr. Darcy, that you have rather too much command over this plan. If I am to release you from your vow, then I must be allowed to invent some rules of my own.”
“Rules?” he raised an eyebrow, “Anything, Elizabeth. What would you like?”
“Only one rule, my love. We will wait until midsummer night. We will not lie together before then, but we certainly shall not delay for even an hour past it. I fear that by that day you will find me most impatient to be in… what did you call it? A compromising position?”
He reddened and laughed hoarsely, “What is the purpose of such a delay, madam?”
“Call it a whim.” she replied at once, and then softened and looked directly in his eyes, “Darcy, it is the anniversary of the day we met. I would rather have a happy memory of you on that day, than cling to the past.”
Darcy paled and then caught his breath and gave her a shaky smile. “Then it is a very good idea, angel. May I kiss you before then?”
“Most assuredly! I shall be offended if you do not.”
Elizabeth smiled when he leaned forwards. Shaking her head, she pressed her finger against his lips. It was the most daring she had ever been, and when his eyes narrowed, she felt utterly wicked. “Not now, sir! You must seduce me first!”
“Oh,” Darcy laughed, his eyes as black as night, “I will.”