Chapter Twenty-One
“Men of sense … do not want silly wives.”
ALTHOUGH THEY MIXED VERY LITTLE IN SOCIETY, THEY WERE IN London for nearly three weeks.
A few evenings of concerts and the theatre, some shopping, walks in the park, and a satisfying evening with the Gardiners had fulfilled their need for outside entertainment, but finally Darcy and Elizabeth decided the draw of Pemberley could be denied no longer.
“Mr. Thacker, we will spend the Festive Season at Pemberley this year. I will send word of our return to Town.”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth walked past her husband as she placed several items in the hands of a waiting servant to load onto the coach. “Mr. Thacker, I expect Mrs. Rowling to rest. She has been ill for several days. Call a physician if necessary.”
“I understand, Mrs. Darcy.”
“Do not permit her to tell you otherwise, Mr. Thacker. If necessary, you should explain to her that those are my orders.”
“The lady is stubborn, Mrs. Darcy, but I will see to it.”
In the few weeks they had stayed at Darcy House, Elizabeth had established a rapport with the servants.
She knew the majority of them by name, and Darcy had overheard more than one of them praise her for her graciousness.
He had not foreseen the many facets of Elizabeth Darcy, but both he and his staff welcomed them.
Darcy was pleased with himself for winning Elizabeth’s love, and he marveled how life sprang into action whenever she walked into a room.
He doubted he could ever have commanded people as well as she did.
“Are you prepared, Elizabeth?”
“That is what you asked me when we arrived at Darcy House for our first night together.”
“Is your response the same as it was then, Mrs. Darcy?”
“It is, sir.” She accepted his extended arm. “I am most eager to be at Pemberley again.”
They stopped for the evening at the same inn where he left the rest of the party the day he discovered Elizabeth at Pemberley. He delighted in the irony of the tale. “Just think,” she teased, “if you had not done so, you could be sharing your room tonight with Caroline Bingley.”
“Elizabeth, your words hold no humor!” However, he laughed because that was what they did: She teased, and Darcy laughed.
When they entered the inn, Mr. Harvey, the innkeeper, rushed to greet them properly.
Darcy easily accepted such homage, increasing Elizabeth’s amazement at the customary reverence.
She was more inclined to wait her turn where Darcy was the type to move to the head of the line.
“Mr. Harvey, this is my wife. We will require your best rooms tonight.”
“Assuredly, Mr. Darcy, we are honored you chose our establishment once again. We heard from Miss Darcy on her return to Pemberley that you had taken a wife. We extend our well wishes, sir. Mrs. Harvey will show you to your rooms, and I will have your trunks brought up. Will you be joining us in the dining room, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy looked about the room crowded with common travelers often found on the roads leading to and from London. No one of consequence was noted, and inroads of his former disdain for others crossed his features and in the manner in which he said, “No, Mr. Harvey, we will take our meal in the room.”
“Yes, sir. I will have it delivered shortly.”
During the evening, despite his best efforts, Darcy became quieter and more resistant.
He did not have a reason. It had started below, and he could not shake the feeling.
He stared at his wife, but it was not the stare which displayed his passion for her.
He knew his stare held what could be construed as contempt and noted the worried look upon his wife’s countenance.
Conversation was minimal, and when they crawled into bed that evening, for the first time since their nuptials, he did not take her into his arms. At length, he heard the soft sobs coming from Elizabeth.
He took her hand in his. He had to stop the world from stealing away his happiness. They stared up at the ceiling’s darkness. Darcy held her hand, but that was all he offered her. “Elizabeth?” His voice came out distant and shallow.
“Yes, William.” She said in teary tones.
It was a long time before he spoke again.
“I do not … I do not want to lose what we had in London.” A small gasp followed his announcement.
“I was standing below giving orders to Mr. Harvey, and I realized how little I had changed. It frightened me that I could so easily slip back to the way I was before there was Elizabeth Bennet.” He heard the tears choking her breathing. “Elizabeth, please say something.”
She swallowed hard before she answered. “William, you cannot control your station in life. It is what you do with the position which will define you.”
He rolled over to caress her face. “Please do not cry, my love. I meant no offense.” He spoke in tenderness.
“I thought you held second thoughts of taking me to Pemberley. I thought you sorry for your decision to make me your wife.”
“Elizabeth, do you not know I could never deny my love for you? I think of nothing else. You consume me. Even when I acted as such downstairs, it was my perverted manner of protecting you from others.”
She spoke in halting phrases. “I … I admit to being amused … at how you slipped through the social modes,” she stammered, “but, William, you were never what you may seem to others. You could not change completely. No one can alter all the experiences which have defined him. The man in whose arms I fall asleep each night is the man you always were. The other is your protection from the world. You close yourself off, as if pulling in a drawbridge to protect you, where I use my saucy remarks as my shield. I am impetuous, and at one time recognized only faults in others; ironically, those same faults were among my own.” During this, his face was buried in her hair, and she stroked the back of his head.
“We are very much alike, my love.” Darcy allowed himself a chuckle at this reference.
“William, please, we may be conventional and gracious at the same time. There was a time I renounced your social sense. Now I value many of those same practices as part of the man you have become. You may be the man your parents taught you to be, in all your glory and social standing, and also be the man who graciously receives the love and respect of those who know you. Your parents would want that man to be the master of Pemberley.”
At length, he spoke earnestly. “It seems we see things in each other no one has recognized previously. We are only perfectly understood by each other.”
She laughed lightly. “I always said, there is a great similarity in the turn of our minds.” She added in seriousness, “William, for months, I wanted nothing more than to be with you at Pemberley, but I will not settle for the house. I want the man with whom I have spent the last few weeks. I want the passion. I cannot live without your touch. Can you not be both? A person can only be known by the quality of his performance.”
His kisses traced her neck’s nape, and Darcy’s hands moved slowly up her body. He covered her with his and hearing her breath catch and feeling her body rise to meet his, he was held spellbound. “Lizzy, I love you more than life itself. I cannot be anything without your love.”
“Then let me judge your performance, Mr. Darcy,” she laughed lightly.
“Your wish is my command, Mrs. Darcy.”
The night had taught them a lesson: It became evident they would occasionally face moments of self-doubt, but not questions of devotion.
The morning brought them a few minutes of quiet reflection before they prepared for the final part of their journey.
As usual, she rested her head and arm across his chest. “William, may we look about the village before we depart? A short walk would be pleasant if it is safe to do so.”
“The woman refuses to shop in the finest establishments in London, but she wishes to curtail her journey to her new home to observe what the local merchants have to offer.”
“You knew I was a country girl when you proposed, Mr. Darcy,” she taunted.
“I did, my love, and am blessed for the distinction.”
As they walked about the village, he noted how Elizabeth glowed with happiness. She conversed with the shopkeepers, eventually choosing a few small trinkets for Georgiana, but also for Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Reynolds. “They will be surprised by the fairing,” is all Darcy said.
As they prepared to leave, a brown and white pup came scampering across the wooden walkway and hid in the hem of Elizabeth’s skirt.
She stepped back gingerly and picked up the pup, caressing it while scratching behind its ears and making cooing sounds.
She held it up to her husband. “Is he not adorable, William?”
“It is a dog, Elizabeth. Most dogs are not adorable.”
“Well, this one is.” She held it in the air and made the cooing noise again. “Look, it has those same sad Darcy eyes. I bet it could duplicate the look. Would it not make a wonderful companion?”
“Elizabeth, you never cease to surprise me. Assure me that if I offer to purchase the dog from Mr. Harvey, I will not find it in our bed at night.”
“Oh, William, I have never had a pet before. Mama would never allow it.” She was so excited Darcy could not hide his happiness at presenting her with something she wanted.
He cautioned, “This is a springer spaniel, Elizabeth. It is an outside dog—a hunting dog—a gun dog. It is not a lap dog one discovers many women in the finer homes in London carrying about.”
“I understand, William. Could we not train it to go out with me on my walks or when we ride?”
Darcy pulled her close and although they were on the village streets, she gifted him with a quick kiss. “I will speak to Mr. Harvey before we leave.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief at how easily she had won him over.