Chapter 5 Elizabeth Fixes upon a Lofty Goal
Darcy
Upon my return to the house that afternoon, I went to the nursery, where Bennet greeted me with a hug.
I sat in a chair whilst my son played on the floor with his two favourite wooden horses.
In his presence, a feeling of lightness pervaded me despite my lingering distress over the argument with Elizabeth.
Bennet had learned to amuse himself with his toys.
Nevertheless, it would be wonderful if he had a brother or sister as a companion.
My early life had been lonely at times, but I had benefited from a close bond with my Fitzwilliam cousins, Richard and Henry.
So far, Bennet had but one cousin, two-year-old Charlie Bingley.
My heart warmed at the thought of my sister, Georgiana, becoming a parent one day.
Six months ago, Georgiana had married our cousin Richard, a former army colonel.
Upon their engagement, Richard had retired from the military and sold his commission.
They had settled into a modest estate, Willow Manor, thirty miles from Pemberley and a similar distance from the Fitzwilliam family estate, Bellwood Hall.
Richard had received Willow Manor as a gift from his mother, Lady Matlock.
Richard’s declaration of his deep and enduring love for Georgiana—expressed with an uncharacteristic confluence of stuttering and hesitation—had come as a relief; Georgiana had already confided her abiding affection for him, and I welcomed the notion of my closest cousin and most trusted friend becoming my brother.
Would that I could be as articulate and measured as Richard. My behaviour last night with Elizabeth exemplified my worst shortcomings.
I managed a smile for Bennet, yet key statements from the argument with Elizabeth revolved again in my head.
I should not have allowed my anger to rule me.
But how should I have responded to her outrageous accusation?
Since our marriage, I could no longer sleep well without her, and last night had been no exception.
Yet my reviews of our conversation failed to settle anything in my mind.
Her allegation had rent me like a thousand shards of glass, impeding my ability to think and bringing me back to that day in Kent when I first proposed marriage to her.
The mixture of hurt and outrage that had assailed me then returned in full force.
I could still picture her asserting that I harboured, among other things, “selfish disdain for the feelings of others.”
My chin fell to my chest. Did she still consider me that way now, after all we had been through together?
Once again, my wife’s words from last night came back to me.
This time, I attempted to view her remarks as an impartial observer might.
By and by, my perspective shifted, and my culpability in the situation could no longer be denied.
I collapsed against the chair with a leaden sensation settling in my gut.
Had I not perceived an advantage in my cousin being sheltered from London society by Lady Catherine and thereby not finding a husband who suited her?
On occasion, I had engaged in the idle reflection that I could “always marry Anne.”
My failure to accept any culpability for Lady Catherine’s rage had allowed my wife to carry the guilt for being the cause of a rift in my family.
Despite my placing the blame on my aunt, my actions had created an inadvertent complicity with Lady Catherine that worked against Elizabeth.
More than once, my wife had suggested I might write to my aunt.
Each time, I had rejected her advice in a tone that discouraged further argument.
How inconsiderate I had been towards Elizabeth, whose sole inducement had been to benefit me.
She would not have wished to re-establish an association with Lady Catherine for her own sake.
Regrettably, Elizabeth had not yet returned from Buxton, so that particular apology must wait. But I could convey my regret to Lady Catherine for my past inaction and induce her to abandon her resentment for my wife.
I knelt on the floor next to Bennet and gathered him onto my lap. As my son’s little arms held on to me, I respired, taking in his scent. “Thank you, Bennet. Your papa needed a hug.” I kissed the top of his head before I set him back on the floor and called for Miss Hunter to return to the nursery.
Mrs. Reynolds directed me to the library, where I found my aunt seated in her favourite bergère chair engrossed in reading.
When I sat across from her, she closed the book and set it aside. “Ah, Darcy, you have returned. How was your day with Lady Rebecca? I trust she learned a great deal from you?”
“Yes, I should say so. Lady Rebecca posed a great many questions, so I believe she benefitted from the experience.” I had been prepared for a tense day in which I should be forced to fend off the lady’s advances.
To my relief, she had retreated from her amorous conduct towards me after the first hour or so.
Although she had taxed my patience at times with her frequent queries, her earnest manner and her words of appreciation for my replies had made me regret my vexation.
Her desire to learn estate management appeared to be genuine.
Nevertheless, I should not be distracted from my resolve.
I shifted to fully face my aunt. “I should like to discuss a serious matter with you.”
Lady Catherine sat forwards with her hands upon her lap. “Very well. What is on your mind?”
“I ought to have disabused you years ago of the notion that I should one day marry Anne. In my mind, the possibility had been a remote one at best. I had always considered myself free to choose whomever I wished to wed, and I ought to have conveyed this to you well before I ever became engaged to Elizabeth. For that, I apologize.”
She recoiled from me. “I cannot believe you have sunk so low. You are reduced to doing the bidding of that woman! I suppose she cried on your shoulder last night and told you to say that to me.”
I gnashed my teeth at this reminder of why I had refused any connexion with Lady Catherine for three years.
Yet I should not allow her to deter me from my purpose—no matter how much she tried my patience.
I squared my shoulders. “You are incorrect to blame Elizabeth for anything. If anyone has wronged you or Anne, it is I.”
“This is pathetic! After all this time, you remain under her spell. I do not understand her hold over you. I suppose a common girl like her must be gifted in the bedchamber.”
My chin jutted out. “How dare you speak of my wife in such a way!”
“What else am I to think? She set out to secure you, and you fell right into her clutches.”
For the next twenty minutes, I attempted to reason with my aunt to no avail. In frustration, I revealed that Elizabeth had refused my first marriage proposal at Hunsford Parsonage.
"Oh, your wife is nothing if not cunning. I almost admire how artful she is." A swollen vein throbbed on the side of her neck. “She made a devious calculation designed to make you want her all the more. She even seduced you into overlooking the scandal that precipitated her youngest sister’s marriage to the son of your father’s steward. She has you so deluded that you still deny the truth to this day.”
“Your obstinacy is beyond all reason.” I bowed my head and took a slow breath before facing her anew. “I am heartily sorry for any unhappiness my marriage has caused Anne. The fault is mine. I am the one who deserves your wrath, not Elizabeth.”
An airy, derisive noise passed her lips. “I once believed you to be stronger than this, and my disappointment in you is extreme.”
The determined set of my aunt’s countenance evinced a mind beyond persuasion.
My hands clasped the arms of my chair. One possibility gnawed at my conscience.
“If I had told you years ago that I had no intention of ever marrying Anne, would that have affected your treatment of her? Might you have sent her to school, hired masters for her, or given her a season in London?”
“No, of course not. I should have assumed you needed more time to see the wisdom of the plan. Young men cannot be expected to know what is best for them. Besides, I confined Anne to Rosings for the sake of her health. Her constitution has always been weak.”
My clenched fingers extended and relaxed. At least I could absolve myself of responsibility for the way she had restricted Anne. “Regardless of your mistaken beliefs, Elizabeth is mistress of this house. As long as you are here, I demand you treat her with respect.”
“Yes, I shall do so.” My aunt retrieved the book and thumbed through it until she found the page she sought.
I stared at her. Could I have worded my reasoning in a more convincing way? Her obstinacy seemed unshakable.
Upon quitting the library, I went to my chambers and changed for dinner. Once dressed, I sat in an armchair to await my wife.
Elizabeth
I froze at the knock upon the door between our bedroom chambers. It is him.
“Elizabeth, may I come in?”
We needed to talk, yet what should I say to him? I nodded at Gibbs, who left the room. With slow, even steps, I approached the door and opened it, keeping my line of sight no higher than his shoulder. “This is your house, so I could not stop you from entering in any case.”
“It is our house.” Fitzwilliam strode through the door and closed it behind him.
“And I should never impose myself on you against your wishes. Pray accept my apology for my behaviour last night. I regret walking away in anger.” Any remaining resentment dissolved at the sight of his mien constricted in remorse.
Still, I held my relief in check, for we had much to discuss.
I lowered myself upon the settee and gestured for him to sit beside me, which he did. “Upon reflection, I regret censuring you for dealings with your family that occurred before we met.”