Chapter Twenty-one #2
“Do not ‘Aunt Catherine’ me. I speak only the truth, however unpleasant you find it to hear.” She shook her head in disbelief, her expression severe.
“You have always been too proud to accept guidance, too stubborn to acknowledge when you have erred. This entire marriage has been suspiciously convenient from the start. An unexpected engagement announced within hours of meeting and a wedding rushed through with unseemly haste! I have harboured suspicions since first learning of this alliance, and now they prove justified.”
“What suspicions?” Darcy’s voice had gone dangerously quiet. “What precisely are you implying?”
“That the Bennet girl was involved with those fortune hunters who attempted to trap you at the garden party. And perhaps the entire scheme was orchestrated from the beginning, her supposed rescue merely theatre designed to position herself as your saviour, thereby obligating you to her. You have been manipulated from the first moment by someone far more calculating than you are willing to acknowledge.”
“That is enough.” The command cracked through the carriage like a whip.
Darcy fixed his aunt with a look that had cowed stronger personalities than hers.
“You will not impugn Elizabeth’s character with such baseless speculation.
She acted to protect me at considerable cost to herself, at risk to her own reputation.
I will not tolerate such vicious accusations against my wife. ”
“Baseless? She keeps secrets from you already! She travels to villages without explanation! How can you possibly defend such suspicious behaviour? You are allowing sentiment to override the evidence of your own observations. This marriage is already showing signs of the disaster I predicted.”
“My wife is allowed to travel on her own without my permission. I do not tell her of every excursion I take either,” he said, not wanting to let his vexation show. “Besides, I was the one who wished for the marriage to take place, not her.”
“Oh, is that so? Or has she convinced you that this was the case?”
“Catherine.” Lord Matlock’s single word carried more authority than his sister’s entire tirade.
“You will cease this line of commentary immediately. Darcy’s marriage is his own concern, not yours to dissect or condemn.
You have made your opinions abundantly clear.
They have been noted and dismissed. Further repetition serves no purpose beyond causing pain, which I trust is not your actual intention even if your words might suggest otherwise. ”
Lady Catherine’s mouth compressed into a thin line. She turned her face away with affronted dignity, every line of her rigid posture radiating disapproval.
The silence that followed felt oppressive, heavy with things unsaid and tensions unresolved.
Darcy stared at his hands where they rested on his knees, his aunt’s words residing in his mind despite his outward dismissal of them.
The accusations were outrageous, offensive and without foundation in anything approaching evidence.
Elizabeth keeping secrets and being involved with the fortune hunters? Her rescue of him being calculated rather than spontaneous?
He rejected such thoughts immediately. He had been there, after all, and witnessed her complete shock when Lydia announced their engagement to the entire party without warning or permission.
He’d seen her mortification and clear dismay at how rapidly events escalated beyond her control.
She’d made attempts to mitigate the damage, her discomfort with the situation she had inadvertently created made obvious.
If she had schemed to trap him, she would not have appeared so trapped herself. Nor offered him escape so readily when he suggested alternatives to actual marriage.
Yet she had gone to the village without mentioning it and seemed to be avoiding him since.
Why?
Richard broke the strained silence in a manner that suggested he had been considering his contribution for some time.
“For what it is worth, I do not believe our aunt’s accusations hold any merit.
I have observed Mrs Darcy these past days.
Whatever troubles her, it is not the satisfaction of a successful schemer. ”
“Thank you.”
Darcy meant it with sincere gratitude. Richard’s judgement was far sounder than Lady Catherine’s prejudice allowed.
“Still,” Richard continued, his tone suggesting he understood he was treading on sensitive ground, “Arthur may have a point about guilt. Something weighs upon her. And if she has been keeping secrets, even small ones which seem insignificant, that might explain her current distance from you.”
“Then I shall discover the truth when we return to Matlock. No matter what it is that she conceals, I doubt it merits the dramatic constructions our aunt has placed upon it. More likely some minor matter she feels awkward addressing. We shall discuss it directly, and I am confident it will prove far less momentous than current speculation suggests.”
Arthur nodded. “I hope you are right. For both your sakes.”
The carriage rolled onward towards the first tenant meeting. Conversation turned to estate matters such as what petitions Lord Matlock anticipated receiving based on recent weather and disputes that had accumulated since the previous quarter period.
Darcy participated minimally, his attention divided between polite responses and private turmoil.
Lady Catherine’s accusations had indeed been outrageous, but they had also struck some vulnerable place within him that he could not quite ignore.
Not because he believed Elizabeth had conspired with the fortune hunters.
Such suspicions were absurd, contradicted by everything he had observed about her character and behaviour.
But because they highlighted a fundamental truth: he barely knew his wife.
The most part of their marriage thus far had been spent navigating awkward social situations or maintaining distance.
He knew she was intelligent, spirited and quick-witted.
He knew she valued independence and disliked condescension.
But her deeper thoughts? Her fears and hopes and the reasoning that guided her choices when? Those remained largely mysterious to him.
And now, apparently, she was keeping secrets of sufficient significance to send her to the village alone. Making solitary excursions without explanation or later mention. Withdrawing from him even as he attempted to bridge the distance between them.
The first cottage they arrived at was a substantial structure that housed one of the estate’s more prosperous tenant families, selected as a meeting location for its convenient placement and adequate space to accommodate multiple families seeking audience.
Lord Matlock began organising his papers with practised efficiency.
Meanwhile, Lady Catherine offered unsolicited commentary on proper tenant management that her brother ignored with long practice, and Richard and Arthur gathered their own materials in preparation for the business ahead.
Darcy assisted with the various preparations, but his mind lingered on the conversation he and his wife needed to have upon his return. On his growing conviction that whatever she concealed, it would be best resolved once shared.
They disembarked from the vehicle into the cottage yard where several families had already gathered, waiting respectfully for Lord Matlock’s arrival. He recognised that Elizabeth was not merely distant or evasive due to a difficult mood.
She had her own fears, which lay unknown to him. And he wanted that trust, the partnership they had discussed with such hope and determination. To know what troubled her so he might help rather than observe her distress from a perplexed and increasingly frustrated distance.
He wanted her. Not merely as the wife circumstances had thrust upon him, but as the woman who had captured his attention from their first conversation.
The woman whose intelligence delighted him, whose courage impressed him, whose presence made him consider perspectives he would never have reached alone.
He liked the idea of sharing the small intimacies of daily existence, such as the way her mouth pursed when considering complex questions and the smile that transformed her entire countenance when something pleased her.
Darcy stood motionless in the cottage yard as conversations swirled around him unheeded, realisation washing over him with the force of revelation.
He loved her.