Chapter 54
The bedside novel had failed Elizabeth once more.
She sat in the middle of her huge bed, arms wrapped around her knees like a frightened child. She had not moved from that spot in hours. She had fled there, pulled the blankets up over her trembling body, and closed her eyes tight.
After the first few hours she recovered enough to ring the bell.
Word had been sent to Mrs. Reynolds to please care for the guests and pass on her apologies.
Some vague references towards feminine complaints had been enough to dispel the housekeeper’s concern…
she assumed. When Mrs. Reynolds sent a comforting hot drink instead of willow tea, Lizzie knew that she had not been fooled for a second.
Well, what of it? As long as she was left undisturbed, Elizabeth could not make herself care about anything else. She felt utterly detached from her duties and the delicate rituals that surrounded them.
No, not detached. Removed.
Removed from her sisters, and their exhausting, constant needs for help.
Removed from her plans, and the great weight of duty and brick that they called Pemberley.
Removed from him, with his foul temper and his ceaseless need to blame her and argue and make her stomach feel like an ice-cold rock.
Removed from all of it, and good riddance.
Elizabeth could not cling to her resolve. She longed to let herself slip away into indifference, to shrug her shoulders and let somebody else pick up the pieces. How blissful such a solution would be! But she could not stand the thought of giving up. Her spirit would not allow it.
So far, however, it seemed that all of her attempts to help anyone had been all pride and no sense. She was well meaning enough, but never thought past the surface. As she reflected on this, Elizabeth locked herself into an unfair prison of self-loathing and tortured herself thus:
Everything the mistress of Pemberley did was doomed to fail.
Every single time - just when she was feeling confident in her new role - she did something to spoil it. She went from being the assured lady of the house to being an ignorant intruder.
Complacent was the word for it. Elizabeth ground the heels of her hands into her forehead. She had let her pride and arrogance get the better of her every single time.
Lizzie let out a shuddering sob and rested her head on her knees. Stupid, stupid Elizabeth! Mrs. Darcy was a mere figment of her imagination. She could barely do half of that illustrious fiction’s duties, and even those attempts were pathetic.
Elizabeth watched the sun set without moving to draw the curtains.
The sounds of evening insects and sleepy birds began.
A few moths fluttered into the room, tempted by the tiny midges that had followed the firelight.
There was no need to reach for her novel.
Elizabeth did not want to sleep. She only wanted to be alone.
A knock on the adjoining door made her yelp in surprise. Her unbidden cry was apparently understood as an invitation, for the door clicked softly open. Elizabeth shut her eyes and pressed her forehead back onto her knees.
“Go away.” she said in a muffled voice, “Please. I do not want you here.”
“Elizabeth…”
“Am I Elizabeth again, Mr. Darcy? When last we spoke I was only ‘madam’. I was barely even that! Perhaps I deserved it - perhaps I did not - but I have no wish to consult you on the matter. Please respect my wishes and leave.”
He did not answer. Elizabeth’s head shot up like a puppet pulled on a string. She was ready to shout - to scream at him again and disgrace herself once more! The expression on his face stopped her.
“My God,” she whispered in a single, stunned breath, “You are sober!”
“Yes.”
“Only because I hid the wine.” she realised bitterly. “Not by choice.”
A hoarse, humourless laugh startled her. Darcy stepped forwards, not towards her but to the dressing table. Something went clink.
“By choice.” Darcy said softly.
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped.
It was a key.
Darcy watched her struggling for a moment and then smiled. It was not a genuine smile, but a strange strained rictus that did not make him look any more approachable.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t have the keys for my own house, Elizabeth?”
Lizzie sat up straighter, amazement and indignation giving her strength.
“Mrs. Reynolds said that there were only two!”
“For all she knows, there are. She does not know everything.”
For some reason, that unlikely fact felt more shocking than the sight of the key.
Elizabeth foundered for a reply, found none, and instead bunched her hands senselessly in her blanket.
It was the green one from her old room, and the knots on it were getting slightly felted from use.
Utterly her own, it soothed her racing thoughts.
Darcy stood awkwardly beside the table, not meeting her eyes, and Elizabeth suddenly felt a great surge of love for him.
It was strong enough to make her chest ache, as if her heart was truly reaching for his past the prickly barriers of their harsh words and stilted silences.
How desperately she wanted him to be happy!
How wretched he looked! Quashing her pride, she gestured vaguely at the end of the bed for him to sit down.
How intimate it was!
Elizabeth scooted backwards shyly and pulled the blanket over her nightgown.
This was her husband, who had after all been inside her person.
Why did it feel like such a violation for him to be inside her room?
Please God he would not comment upon her discarded stockings on the floor!
She would rather he saw her naked than set eyes upon her under things!
Darcy did not sit down. He stayed beside the table and shook his head.
“Thank you, my love, but I shall not… um.” Darcy looked up at the ceiling in search of words and then brought them down with him.
“You did not want me here, and I certainly did not come here with a mind to coerce you otherwise. I just wanted to…” he waved a hand in the general direction of the key and finished weakly, “It is a gesture.”
“I am not coerced.” Elizabeth promised, “I… erm... thank you, for being so cognisant of the…”
“I respect you.” he interrupted brusquely.
“I should act accordingly. I cannot forbid you for writing to your friends. I cannot intrude upon your privacy or assume your consent. I cannot…” he took a deep breath and picked up the key, “I certainly cannot be angry that you kept secrets from me, when I have been lying to you since the day we arrived. Take it, angel. There are no others.”
Elizabeth stared at it, flinched when he seized her unresisting hand and pressed the key into her palm. It was cold and slippery; his hand was hot and rough.
“No.” she whispered.
Darcy blinked. “No?”
‘“No. I do not want it. You should keep it. It’s like that port stain on the wall, isn’t it? Another test. Another defiance.”
The man smiled ruefully, not letting go of her hand.
“You know me so well, angel. And I know you. I know how frightened you were - I heard it in your voice. I had not thought that my struggle would be so obvious. I am so sorry that you saw me like that.”
“I saw only a friend, sir, who was in pain.”
“Yes - who then treated your concern as an insult!”
“You did, yes, but I was as badly behaved. I accused you of abandoning all of your principles the very instant that you became angry.”
Darcy studied Elizabeth closely for a moment, then shook his head. Walking to their adjoining door, he reached up and carefully put the key on the lintel.
“Very diplomatic,” Lizzie quipped, “But you are much taller than me, so you will still be the only one who can use it.”
“Stand on a chair.”
“That does not sound like something the elegant Mrs. Darcy should do! What would the servants say?”
“I trust the elegant Mrs. Darcy not to get caught.” he replied peacefully, “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
“Wait - wait!” she burst out, “Where are you going?”
“Since it is past midnight, madam, my options are rather limited. I had thought to go to bed.”
“How tedious that sounds! I cannot sleep, and I have missed your friendship today. If you are not too weary, sir, I would like to spend more time with you.”
Darcy took a half-step towards her and then stopped himself with a wry smile, “Elizabeth, I am exhausted. My head is pounding. I would be very poor company.”
“Do you wish to be alone?”
The man sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily, “Of course not. I always want to be with you. But today has been damnably difficult, and I must sleep.”
Elizabeth walked over and wrapped her arms around him in a tight, loving hug.
“Then I shall stay with you,” she murmured, “That way, we will both be comforted.”