Chapter 24
Elizabeth looked up at the knock on the door and then at the clock. The maid was here to take her dinner tray. She closed her book, put it down and straightened up. Not for anything would she allow the staff to see how isolation and silence affected her.
“Come in,” she called and smiled at Emily as her maid curtsied and collected her tray. Elizabeth was about to thank her when she saw a movement by the door and was surprised to see Mrs Kerr waiting for Emily to leave.
“Thank you, Emily,” Elizabeth said absently and turned to the door.
“Do come in, Mrs Kerr.” She forbore any attempt to get the woman to sit down, knowing it would be futile. “You have something to tell me? Is Mrs Reynolds well?”
The other woman hesitated. “She was a little distressed by an — incident in the dining room a short while ago, Mrs Darcy, but she appears to have forgotten it already. However, I ought to tell you what occurred.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Is it something which might be uncomfortable to tell me?”
“I … hardly know, madam.” Mrs Kerr took a deep breath.
“It seems that after Colonel Fitzwilliam had left the house, Mr Darcy called the butler to his study and informed him that he would be dining formally this evening and going forward.” Her lips thinned.
“Mr Payne did not trouble to inform me, or I might have been able to discuss the matter with you.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. She could imagine what had transpired. “Allow me to speculate. Mr Darcy was not happy that I was dining above stairs.”
“I am afraid you are correct, madam. He stated I was to inform you that he expects you to be dining downstairs in all but the most exceptional of circumstances. Those were his words. I am sorry to have to repeat them to you.”
“I do not see why,” Elizabeth said absently, her gaze going to her book. “You were instructed to do so.” She looked back up at her. “How did he distress Mrs Reynolds?”
She listened carefully, happy that the old lady had forgotten the upset so quickly, but aware that it indicated a steepening of her decline.
It seemed her evenings would no longer be her own.
She felt a surge of resentment that her husband could order her about so, but it was swiftly followed by a tightening of her resolve.
If they were to have some time in company, she might be able to begin to gain some acceptance, although he had much to atone for from the last few months to gain any sort of forgiveness.
He might have suffered severe injuries, but he had not taken any trouble to assist her to gain comfort or familiarity at Pemberley.
He had not even concerned himself to ensure she could access her pin money, and her resentment increased further at the memory.
The weather was colder than she was used to, and she would have welcomed a warmer pelisse.
But she would not debase herself again to ask him.
She had three pounds left of the savings she had brought with her.
If she was careful, it might last a while.
Elizabeth snorted, annoyed. It would help materially if she was permitted to enter the fabled library and borrow a book or two. But again, that was denied her, either by malice or indifferent thoughtlessness.
No, she needed to consider carefully what had happened this evening and why. It could not possibly be for affection; Mr Darcy still despised her as he had always done.
His cousin had spoken to him and she supposed they had decided together that this was important and that he would dine in company with his wife. Formally.
He was angry because she had not been there where he considered she ought to be, waiting on his use for her.
He required her presence for the sake of appearances, in all but the most exceptional of circumstances — so even on days he might not be present.
She sighed; she could hardly read at that vast table surrounded by footmen, even on days when Mr Darcy was not present.
But it was now required of her; an act to be played before an audience of servants.
Well, she knew now. There was time to regain her equanimity before tomorrow.
The next afternoon, she stood in front of her wardrobe, happy she was not in the vast dressing room of the mistress's chambers. The small collection of gowns she had brought with her from Longbourn would look worse in more palatial closets.
She chose a pale spotted muslin and Emily took it away to press before the evening. Elizabeth knew she must take pains with her appearance this evening.
She smiled at her reflection, unamused. Appearances. That was what was important to her husband.
As she descended the stairs, she pushed away an acute wave of homesickness for her family, likely at this moment gathering around the dining table at Longbourn; it would do no good at this moment when she must be strong.
She thought instead of the people she had come to know here in Derbyshire.
Lucy Hayes was already a friend, and while Elizabeth could not acquaint her with the reality of her marriage, they could talk about many things.
And Mrs Kerr, while she was a servant who kept a professional distance, was respectful and kind.
Elizabeth had a sense of approval from her.
Mrs Reynolds, of course, was no longer able to keep a professional attitude, and Elizabeth was becoming very fond of her, although things could not continue as they were for much longer.
I am not completely alone. Elizabeth allowed her thoughts to bolster her as she raised her head and turned into the drawing room to await the call to dine.
The room was empty. Elizabeth took a deep breath.
Of course it was. Having been embarrassed by his temper yesterday evening, Mr Darcy might not dine formally again, especially not so soon.
But without his order being rescinded, Elizabeth would have to sit through the formality of it all. She crossed the room to the sofa beside the fire, and sat demurely, wishing she could read or embroider. Something, other than sit waiting.
She glanced at the small table holding the drinks tray.
She would have appreciated a gentleman to pour her a small sherry, it would fortify her for the meal ahead.
But she was not certain of the propriety of doing so for herself or asking a footman to do so.
She would not take the risk this first evening.
She heard slow, measured footsteps in the hall and knew it was her husband. But they went past the door and straight into the dining room. Elizabeth rose to her feet, determined not to feel snubbed, and went to the door, nearly bumping into a footman, who was presumably about to call her to dine.
She followed the servant into the room and to her place at the foot of the table, where he held the chair for her, Mr Darcy being otherwise occupied in taking his own seat far away at the head. Conversation will not be easy across such a distance, and she almost smiled at the thought.
She glanced at him and saw his gaze on her, and he nodded once, curtly.
“Mrs Darcy.” He immediately looked down at his napkin as he unfolded it onto his lap.
She had no opportunity to return the courtesy, and felt the absence.
The silence drew out over the soup course, the remove and then to the dishes and the joint being carried in.
She saw the main joint was venison, but Mrs Kerr had ensured that cook had also supplied a roasted chicken, knowing that Elizabeth was not enamoured of such rich meat as venison.
But she sat dismayed as her husband did not even glance at her before carving a large portion of venison onto her plate, and she nodded faintly at the footman as the plate was placed in front of her, and another footman displayed a dish of carrots and parsnips.
She nodded at him and he served her, and the next man had a dish of buttered cabbage. After that, she declined the potatoes.
She could manage the parts of the meal she had chosen and would attempt to eat some of the venison, although his presumption infuriated her.
But how on earth could she indicate to her husband that she needed a much smaller portion and preferred the chicken?
Would he be observant enough to notice what she did, and did not, eat?
They could not sit in silence, she knew. If he did not wish to speak, then she must, and she considered several topics that might suffice. She glanced over, he was eating slowly, not appearing to enjoy his food, and she noted again how gaunt he looked.
“The weather here in Derbyshire is much colder than I am used to from Hertfordshire, Mr Darcy. Is it as expected at this time of year?”
He looked up, possibly more disturbed by the collective indrawn breaths of anxious anticipation from the footmen than by her words.
“It seems as usual for the time of year,” he shrugged, sounding disinterested. “The weather in the whole country has been particularly cold for the last several years, as you must know.”
Elizabeth nodded. It was the most he had spoken to her since their marriage. “I was staying with my aunt and uncle in the year ninety-eight, and they took me to the frost fair on the Thames, although it was too cold to allow me to stay long.”
He grunted, declining to answer, and silence returned. Elizabeth remembered that year; she was seven years old and her uncle newly married. She and Jane took turns to have a few months each staying with them, and they had quickly fallen quite in love with their new aunt.
As the silence persisted, she warmed herself with the memory of her aunt and uncle laughingly telling her of the history of the frost fairs as she walked between them holding their hands.
Then she had felt loved and accepted. And with that memory, she could eat no more. She placed her cutlery down and patted her mouth with her napkin.
It was many minutes before her husband finished eating and he glanced down the table, seemingly surprised that she had not cleared her plate. But he did not speak and they both sat back while the footmen cleared the table.
Desserts were served — apples sliced in a dish and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, a small blackberry tart, and cheeses.
Afterwards, Elizabeth rose to her feet. “Mr Darcy.” She would wait for him in the drawing room, and again, she wished she had brought down something to do, perhaps some needlework while he solemnly drank his port alone, if he were really going to go through the motions of formality.
She sat there for a long time. Was he really sitting there alone for so long?
At Longbourn Papa had never bothered with remaining in the dining room, but he had spoken to them all in the sitting room and drunk coffee as they had their tea, even if he removed himself to his book room before much of the evening had passed.
She waited until an hour and a half had passed before losing her patience, and rising to retire to her chamber. Tomorrow she would certainly bring down some embroidery if this was how it would be.
It seemed she would be endured, rather than receive even a grudging acceptance.
If only she could write as she wished to Aunt Gardiner, and to Jane.
Then her loneliness might lift; even a very little would do.
But she would never write if it meant her words would be perused by Mr Darcy, and she shuddered at the very thought of how stilted her words would have to be to gain his approval for the letter to be sent.
She could certainly never say what she really wished to.