Chapter 26 Journey To The North
The Darcy carriages had been traveling for two hours when they pulled off the road. Darcy dismounted and stepped to the door of the leading carriage.
“Elizabeth, we are going to rest and water the horses. We have traveled ten miles. Our destination this evening is Hatfield.” He smiled, a glint of humor in his eyes. “We are back in your county, my dear.”
Elizabeth raised a brow. “It seems that I cannot shake the dust of Hertfordshire off my feet so very easily, sir.”
His eyes were laughing. “That is my fault, ma’am. However, now that we are here, I thought you and our sisters would like to tour Hatfield House, the seat of the Cecil family, the Marquesses of Salisbury.”
All the sisters drew nearer, listening with interest.
“Elizabeth Tudor was confined there for three years in the Old Palace.”
From her expression, Darcy saw that his wife was intrigued.
“I would love to tour the grounds, sir,” she said eagerly.
Georgiana’s face brightened. “Elizabeth Tudor is my favorite queen, Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy grinned at the group. “It appears that you are all in agreement with our travel plans for this portion of the journey. There is a lovely grove near the stream where the horses will be watered, if you would like a short walk.”
He offered his arm to Elizabeth, and they strolled away from the others beneath the shade of a small stand of trees.
Glancing down at his wife, he asked, “Is there anything I can do to make this journey more comfortable for you or your sisters?”
She was touched by his thoughtfulness.
“No, sir. You have seen to our comfort most unexceptionally.” Then she added, “I have never been beyond our small village except to visit Gracechurch Street. Every new place is a novelty to me. I am grateful that you would take the time to allow us to visit Hatfield Palace, knowing the work that awaits you at your estate.”
Darcy felt a twinge of guilt. In truth, there was no pressing matter awaiting him at Pemberley; that excuse had served only as a pretext to flee London and the Earl. God help him, he could not lie to this woman. She was so trusting, so open. He would not do anything to damage that trust.
“Elizabeth,” he said quietly, “it is true that I have duties awaiting me at Pemberley, but I am sorry if I gave the impression that there was any urgency. I wished merely to take advantage of the fine weather and be on our way. We shall make it a leisurely journey, and I will seek out other sights along the route that may interest you and our sisters.”
Elizabeth blushed faintly, embarrassed by her own sense of inadequacy.
By his standards, she and her family were simple, untraveled, unpolished, and the thought stung her more than she wished to admit.
Her countenance, being an honest mirror of her feelings, betrayed her, and he rightly interpreted the fleeting expression that crossed her face. “Did I say something wrong?”
Her eyes flicked up to his. “No, sir. If you saw me cringe, it is only because I see how my family and I must appear to you, untraveled, and therefore uncultured. I wish my thoughts were not so transparent upon my face, nor you so observant.”
He shook his head. “I do not think that, Elizabeth. I think you and your sisters are unspoiled, wholesome women who have not had your natural curiosity schooled out of you by governesses or those dreary academies that exist only to produce paper-doll cutouts, acceptable to men who wish their worlds never to be challenged by women of intellect or accomplishment. Not all men are that way, and the world is changing. Someday, all fields of learning will be open to women, though I fear it will not be in our lifetime.”
His expression was warm. “Please, Elizabeth, do not ascribe to me opinions I do not hold. I find your mind as attractive as your beauty.”
Heat warmed her face again. “I did not know that you found me attractive, either in mind or in form.”
Color rose to his own cheeks. “I fear our early interactions have colored your view of me, and nothing I have said since has quite undone that impression. Yet I have told you more than once that I consider you the most handsome woman of my acquaintance. That includes your sister Jane, whom your mother praises to the skies, and Miss Bingley, who is well known in her social circles for her beauty.”
Her eyes fell from his. “I will strive to remember that, sir, though it will likely take a few more reminders for it to settle into my mind. For those fated words, coming from the lips of a man I once thought a modern-day hero, a knight from the legends of King Arthur, sorely affected me, sir. It was a deep injury, especially because it was a public offense.”
His jaw tightened. “I am sorry that my words wounded you, my darling. They were never meant for your ears. If anything has the power to change me for the better, it will be the pain I have caused you.”
They reached the stream and joined the others; the moment of intimacy had passed.
Darcy wondered which Arthurian hero she had imagined him to be, and she wondered that he found her attractive in both mind and body. He had also called her his darling again. Could it be that he was opening his heart to her, or was it merely a familiar endearment spoken without feeling or intent?
They reached Hatfield by half past four that afternoon. Elizabeth found that the inn, though small, was clean and well-kept. There were not enough rooms for all in their party. Darcy and Richard would share a chamber, Elizabeth shared with Jane, and Mary and Georgiana shared another.
Elizabeth was standing at the window, looking down at the street below, when a rap sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
Mr. Darcy stood in the doorway. “Would you care to walk to the Old Palace and see the grounds? It will be too late to tour the palace proper this afternoon, but many of the oak trees are over a thousand years old. We will also see the great oak beneath which Princess Elizabeth first learned of her accession to the throne.”
Elizabeth turned from the window eagerly. “Yes, let us go. I was just standing here wishing for a walk.”
Jane rose. “I will call our sisters.”
Both women took their bonnets and pelisses and stepped out into the hall.
Darcy held Elizabeth’s pelisse as she slipped into it, his manner attentive but reserved.
When the other women joined them, they descended the stairs and walked into the street.
Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth, and Richard escorted Georgiana, while Jane and Mary followed behind, arm in arm.
When they reached the Old Palace grounds, Darcy spoke with a groundsman and received permission to walk through the gardens.
He then requested that the man give them a brief tour.
They admired the formal box beds before the house, marveling at the parterres and topiary, and each threw a coin into the pond, making a wish.
When Georgiana asked if they might try the maze, the gardener granted permission, and the two younger women ran ahead.
Jane, already exhausted from the long day’s travel, asked to remain behind. “I am not such a great walker as you are, Lizzy. Do you mind if I remain here, watch the swans, and rest?”
“Of course, Jane. We will not be long,” Elizabeth said, smiling.
Darcy offered his arm, and Elizabeth took it as they walked toward the maze.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said after a few moments, “will you tell me about your family? I know that you and Miss Darcy are orphans, and that the Colonel is a second son, his father an earl. My cousin told me that his patroness is your aunt.”
Darcy inhaled slowly, organizing his thoughts. He must tread carefully; she could not yet learn how angry his relations would be when they learned of their marriage. She must be protected from that ugliness until their union was firmly established. He decided to speak only of his parents.
“My mother died shortly after Georgiana’s birth, so my sister never knew her.
My father was crushed by her loss, though he had feared it for years.
My mother longed for another child, though several physicians warned that she risked her life if she carried again.
She died in childbed from a condition called abruptio placentae, a form of hemorrhage caused in her case by uterine tumors.
I believe my aunt and cousin suffer from a similar affliction.
Both my mother and my aunt lost many pregnancies before carrying a child the full nine months.
I fear my cousin Anne may have inherited the condition; she is very sickly and anemic. ”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Is Miss Darcy affected?”
“I do not believe so. She shows none of the symptoms my mother and aunt experienced.”
Elizabeth looked up at him curiously. “Symptoms, sir?”
A faint flush rose to his cheeks, and her attention was caught by the faint shadow along his jaw.
He would need to shave before dinner, yet the slight growth made him in her eyes more handsome, more decidedly masculine.
His next words drew her back to the conversation.
“This is indelicate, but I will answer if you wish to know.”
“I do wish to know,” she said quietly.
“All three suffer their courses for most of the month, while, according to Mrs. Reynolds, Georgiana’s are normal.”
Elizabeth blushed. “Oh, I see.” After a pause, she sought a safer subject. “Is your aunt amiable, sir?”
Darcy gazed pointedly at her. “Did your cousin say otherwise?”
“My cousin never mentioned her, except to say that she has strong family loyalty and advised him to take a wife from among his cousins, since he was to inherit our father’s estate. I thought her values sound enough, sir.”
“But?”
She grinned. “But she also seems very high-handed. My cousin said she insisted that he leave Kent at once and marry, or she would have him removed if he returned without a wife.”
Darcy chuckled. “My aunt has no such power, but she could have made his life difficult. He did well to follow her advice. I believe he is the sort of man who will do better married, especially in his role as rector.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, perhaps his masculine propensities will be tempered by marriage.”
Darcy saw as a shiver ran through her, and he felt concern. Had he married a woman who would not accept her husband into her bed except out of duty, to provide an heir? Was Elizabeth cold or merely modest? It was too late to do anything about it; they were married, but he meant to find out.
“Elizabeth,” he asked gently, “why did you shiver?”
She laughed softly. “Did I, sir? I was not aware. Something about my cousin fills me with fear. I was only thinking of Miss King. She is one year younger than I, yet she seems much younger in mind. Even Mary seems more mature, though they are the same age. I feel for that child, for what she will suffer at the hands of that man.”
Darcy’s concern deepened. “What do you believe she will suffer? Is he wicked?”
“Oh no, sir,” she said quickly. “Not so bad as that.” After a moment’s silence, she continued, “Yet I believe he might be capable of forcing her, or if not that, of pressing her even when she is not ready. How well can she know him after only three or four days? I do not doubt he will take her before she learns to love him or even wish for him. He will find a way to coerce her.”
She shivered again.
Darcy asked carefully, “Then if he waited and allowed her time to know him, you think things would go better?”
“Yes, sir,” she said with conviction. “She would have time to fall in love with him, and then she would go to him willingly, even happily. But as he is, he is repellent.”
She grew quiet, lost in thought. “I believe I understand why I fear him so,” she said at last. “He wishes always to be in control, and I believe causing fear, anger, or intimidation gives him pleasure.”
Darcy understood her at once and felt a wave of relief. His wife did not fear the marriage bed; she feared cruelty.
“Elizabeth,” he said gently, “in the short time I was in their company, I saw that Miss King was very much attracted to the rector, and she never appeared repelled by him.”
Elizabeth nodded. “You are right, sir. She was not repelled; she was too silly to understand him.”
Darcy disagreed mildly. “I think it is possible that she found his manner attractive. This world is filled with all kinds of people, each drawn to different qualities. Miss King is not like you or your sisters. I saw true attraction in her eyes, and so did your father. That is why he withheld your sisters from Mr. Collins and recommended Miss King instead. He knew she would be a good match, and not only for her ten thousand pounds. I think she will hold him, for she is drawn to his type.”
They reached the center of the maze, where they found Georgiana and Mary seated on a bench, watching birds at a feeder. The four remained for a quarter hour, speaking softly, before returning together through the maze.
As they walked, Georgiana asked what time they would return on the morrow to see the Old Palace itself.
While the others discussed their plans, Elizabeth remained silent, lost in thought. She realized she had been mistaken. Miss King would not be frightened or miserable in her marriage. Elizabeth felt unexpectedly glad to have been wrong, and her mind turned inward.
If she could be so wrong in this, in what else might she be mistaken? She resolved to pay close attention and to learn more about herself.