Chapter 43 A Wedding #2
We greeted each other, then he said, “I was deeply saddened when I heard of your father’s death. I had only a few days to form our acquaintance. To correct our acquaintance, for I had formed an unjust first impression.”
I thought of Mr. Darcy witnessing my father’s mockery of Mary, so painful to a brother who had raised his young sister as his sole family.
“I would not accuse you of injustice,” I said. “You did not first observe my father at his best. He would agree without reservation. We all do things we regret.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, then inclined his head toward Mary and Miss Darcy, who were talking with great animation. “Your sister thrives.”
“And yours.” I took a breath. “Mr. Bingley explained your extraordinary efforts to help Jane.”
“I was obligated to do everything in my power. I am happy to have accomplished some partial amends.”
“My father described your rescue of Lydia as an unpayable debt. You have doubled that debt. More than doubled. I can never thank you enough.”
“I thought only of you,” he said, his voice low.
That wrenched like he had reached through my skin and grabbed my heart. But I hardened myself and said nothing. Because his selfless behavior was also the problem.
The silence stretched. His shoulders straightened, sensing a rebuke. “My intervention between your sister and Mr. Bingley was self-centered. Cruel and ungentlemanly.”
“I thoroughly agree,” I said.
His lips parted in surprise. In our social dance of apology, I had just stamped on his foot.
“So,” I mused, “having learned that separating a couple is cruel and ungentlemanly, why do you persist?” He seemed frozen, so I proceeded, “I speak of us, Mr. Darcy, if you have not yet made that leap. Indeed, it is fortunate that I resisted the temptation to ban you from Longbourn. As you have forbidden me from Pemberley, I would have had to book the assembly hall for our luncheon, and it is not as nice as either of our gardens.”
An uncertain smile grazed his lips. “You must be…” he began, then stopped, seeing my expression.
“If you are about to suggest I am joking, I advise you reconsider. Although I have never before had a gentleman flee from me, let alone ban me from his property, I am certain you omitted a required step.”
“What step is that?” he asked quietly.
“An explanation.”
“I sought to protect you.”
“As you protected Mr. Bingley?”
“The situation is different. This is a burden I assume.”
“That is conceit.” My voice was becoming heated. “Can you imagine no other party you hurt?”
“You speak of yourself,” he said. “Whatever hurt you feel is outweighed by the serious risk you would face.”
“It is not your place to judge risks for me. Do you not see this is exactly your error with Mr. Bingley and Jane?”
“You do not understand the gravity of the situation. I could not bear to see you hurt.”
“That is condescending. How can I understand when you do not explain? It is not endearing to have you protect me by stifling me. Would you choose a wyfe who hid you in the cellar to keep you safe?”
His eyes widened, and I realized what I had implied. I had to fight to keep my embarrassment from knocking me off course.
Truthfully, I had long since lost my direction. When I imagined this conversation, by this point Mr. Darcy had abjectly apologized and admitted some trifle of social etiquette to overcome.
I was staring into his dark eyes when he said, “You know the wyfe I would choose.”
I swallowed against the sudden heat in my throat. “When I spoke of the darkness of Pemberley, you fled. Why?”
“I cannot answer,” he burst out at the exact moment that Miss Darcy joined us, glowing with pleasure.
“Fitz?” she said, her smile collapsing to concern.
“You must excuse me.” He strode through the crowd until he was on the other side of the garden.
Fingers encircled my hand and squeezed. “Elizabeth. Are you all right?” I tore my gaze from Mr. Darcy’s back and met his sister’s blue, worried eyes. “Did you quarrel?”
“No. Yes. I do not know.”
“Here.” She led me to a shaded table, sat me down, and put something in my hand. A crumpet. I took a bite. Strawberries. “Tell me what has happened.”
I was being comforted by Mr. Darcy’s sister. This was not a good solution. But to pretend all was well was too disingenuous. “Mr. Darcy and I have a disagreement. Over his protectiveness.”
“I will certainly take your side. It is his most disagreeable trait.” She spoke with such sisterly annoyance that a laugh broke through my lips. She leaned closer. “Since I was eleven, I have lived within my brother’s protectiveness. Protection is well and good. But it can become foolish.”
“Excessively foolish,” I said tartly.
“Let us speak of something else. Fitz will return.” A corner of her mouth twitched. “He cannot leave without me.”
“True.” I took another bite of crumpet, leaned back in my seat, and looked around the garden.
Jane, radiating joy with Mr. Bingley at her side, was speaking with the Lucases. Everywhere, there were smiles and happiness. My tense anticipation of speaking with Mr. Darcy had distracted me from what really mattered.
An unnamable dread fell away with a lurch. So much had gone wrong in the last few months that I had trouble accepting a happy ending. But here we sat, surrounded by a miracle for Jane.
“I greatly enjoyed meeting your sister Mary,” Miss Darcy said. “I have even persuaded her to show me her compositions. I think she is shy about them.”
That caught my attention. “Compositions? Music compositions?”
“Did you not know?”
“I had no idea. Do women compose music?”
“Your sister does,” observed Miss Darcy, with the same self-assured manner I had seen in her music room. Her eyes were on Mary, who was speaking with Mrs. Trew, one of our tenants.
My eyes drifted to Miss Darcy’s necklace with its single golden musical note, then the gold embroidery on her dress. The Chinese dragons were rendered in a strange style, stretched like snakes yet capturing the motion of draca. They had no wings, but they reminded me of our drake.
One shape was different, with wide, webbed feet and a thin tail like a fish. It was surrounded by a few simple lines that suggested reeds. “There is an aquatic dragon on your dress.”
“The Chinese have their own myths. Dragons that change to carp, and back again.” Miss Darcy’s voice was distracted. She was now watching Jane and Mr. Bingley.
Softly, she said, “I shall never marry.”
I almost scoffed. When I was a few years younger, I had imagined that myself in flashes of rebellion or frustration. But Miss Darcy seemed serious, so I answered seriously. “It will not be for a lack of opportunity. Already, gentlemen admire you.”
“I do not desire their admiration.” She was quiet for a minute.
“Once, a man asked me to marry him. I knew he was dishonest, but I said yes. Just to… to be what is expected. Girls should dream of being married. I thought I could act the role dictated by the adamant expectations of society. But it would be a cruel jail.”
Mr. Darcy had told me his sister’s history with Mr. Wickham, although I would never admit that to her. But this was a different explanation than his—more complex than a young girl seduced into thinking she was in love then admitting the truth to her beloved brother.
There was a question I could ask without revealing my knowledge. “Mr. Darcy said you have renounced marriage gold.”
“We chose that together. Fitz worries that my fortune makes me a target of unscrupulous men.” She bit her lip.
“I have not told him I do not plan to marry.” I nodded to indicate I would keep it in confidence.
“But I still have a fortune, with or without marriage gold. There is a more important reason. The more I learn of draca, the more uncomfortable binding leaves me. Fitz said my mother worried about this also, so together we decided we would not bind. Binding is… hard to understand. I fear draca have no choice in the matter. That they are slaves.” Her laugh was bitter for such a young woman. “Forced into an unwanted marriage.”
“I see why you enjoy Mary,” I said. Miss Darcy gave me an extremely startled look.
“Mary has decided that society is unfairly and selfishly controlled by men. She denounces England as a patriarchy and disapproves of society’s expectation that ladies marry.
You should share your thoughts on marriage with her. ”
Miss Darcy riveted her attention on the ground at her feet. A flush spread below her bonnet.
I was thinking about Miss Darcy’s dress. “I must speak to Mary for a minute. Will you excuse me?” Miss Darcy nodded, and I found Mary with Kitty, Colonel Forster, and his wife, Harriet.
I drew Mary aside and asked, “Do you recall a drawing in our journal? A sketch at the top of a page?”
“Yes,” she said. “A few lines. It is hard to make out.” She waited, looking curious. Only Mary would be intrigued by being pulled away from a party to discuss a book. Well, I suppose I was doing the same thing.
“I think it is the shore of a lake, with reeds,” I said. “Drawn very simply.”
“It could be. The writing below is archaic and difficult to comprehend…” Mary closed her eyes. I had seen her recall passages this way before. “It means, ‘The three sisters repel high creatures.’ It made no sense to me. But ‘high beasts’ is written elsewhere and means draca.”
I was excited now. “There are three sister lakes, of which Pemberley lake is one. For miles around, there are no draca. It is emptiness to my vision. That is what the journal describes. Mr. Darcy calls that the ‘darkness of Pemberley,’ but it exists at three lakes! And it has for hundreds of years.” Triumphantly, I finished, “The darkness is not due to Pemberley, but the lakes!”
“Is that important?” Mary asked.
My triumphant smile became puzzled. “Perhaps not. But it might drag some answers from Mr. Darcy.”