Chapter 10 Wilful Misunderstandings #9
“Not usually,” she answered, sitting on the bed and curling her feet beneath her.
Her aunt turned fully towards her, her surprise transformed into alarm. “He ought to! Do not be afraid to ask it of him.”
“I have no wish for him to knock first. We are very easy with each other. We come and go as we please between all our rooms.”
Her aunt looked decidedly sceptical. “Familiarity is one thing—privacy is quite another. What if you are…you know…?”
“I have a separate room for my toilette.”
“No, no—well, yes, that is bad enough, but...what if you are unclothed?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Well, forgive me, but that is often the point of his coming in.”
Her aunt’s eyebrows shot up divertingly. “Indeed! I did mean to enquire whether you were yet comfortable with the intimacies of married life, but I take it you have overcome any trepidation in that quarter?”
She nodded, unable to keep from grinning.
“Lizzy, you look unpardonably smug.”
“Do I?”
“You know you do. And let us not be shy about it, you have good reason. Your husband is an uncommonly handsome man.”
Elizabeth wondered whether her aunt knew she was blushing and if that was why she changed the subject.
“Tell me, is Jane as contented with Mr Bingley?”
The question caught Elizabeth by surprise. She pulled a pillow from behind her and hugged it to her chest. “Truly, I could not tell you. She was not happy with me when I saw her last. How happy she is with her husband was not something she wished to discuss.”
Mrs Gardiner came to join her, perching on the edge of the bed. “Why was she unhappy with you?”
“She was upset that I neglected her at Lady Ashby’s ball.”
“I do not take your meaning. In what way did you neglect her?”
“She felt I cared only for my own reception and paid no heed to how she was treated—which, by her account, was with a marked want of respect.”
“What on earth did she expect? Fanfares? She is not of the same sphere.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Neither am I.”
“But you are now, Lizzy. If Jane imagined she would be received with the same deference as Mrs Darcy of Pemberley, she was dreaming. She ought to be careful. She will make people think she is jealous.”
“Darcy said something very similar. I do not wish to believe it of her though.”
“Neither do I, but we are none of us without fault.”
“True, but why should Jane be jealous? She is five times as pretty as I and ten times as good.”
Mrs Gardiner leant back against the bedpost, rearranging her skirts around her. “Mayhap therein lies the rub. How often have you lauded Jane’s goodness? How often does your mother boast of her beauty?”
“Often, I suppose. Why?”
“I can conceive that being constantly told she is superior to all her sisters and friends might have instilled in her a propensity to resent anything—or anyone—who makes her feel inferior.” There was a pause. “I suspect, presently, that anyone is you.”
“Yes, I gathered you were heading in that direction,” Elizabeth replied miserably. “But Jane has never coveted greater consequence. I cannot comprehend why she should suddenly be envious of my having a superior situation.”
“Perhaps not of your better situation, per se, but that your situation means you are better admired.”
“Hardly!” Elizabeth exclaimed, with a bitter bark of laughter. “Half of society despises me, and the rest is completely indifferent to me!”
Mrs Gardiner raised an eyebrow. “Truly? Because Jane’s grievances, as you have related them, rather suggest it was she to whom society was indifferent and you whom they admired.”
Elizabeth shook her head, wondering vaguely when it had begun to ache.
“Jane may have been less admired than she felt she deserved, but I assure you she was under no illusion that I fared any better. Indeed, she went to great lengths to ensure I understood just how ill my new family thought of me.” She picked unhappily at the pillow’s trim.
“They will never like me, apparently, if I do not learn to respect them properly.”
When she received no answer, she looked up and was taken aback to discover Mrs Gardiner’s lips pressed together into a tight line and her countenance stained an angry red.
“What is it?”
“I am loath to say too much more, for I would not stir ill-feeling between the pair of you, but I regret it sounds very much as though Jane has maligned your success merely to lessen her own disillusionment.”
Elizabeth recoiled. That Jane should feel some jealousy for their altered situations was, perhaps, only natural. That she should blame her for it, consciously set out to punish her for it, was inexpressibly painful. “Think you that was her design?”
“I sincerely hope it was not her design, but it may well have been unconsciously done.”
Elizabeth felt quite nauseous with dismay, yet a friendship such as hers and Jane’s was too important to be forsaken over such a nasty little thing as jealousy, and she was nothing if not obstinate. “Then I shall just have to convince her she has nothing of which to be jealous, shall I not?”
Her aunt smiled warmly. “And I have every faith you will put it all to rights, Lizzy, but you look tired. Let us speak no more of it this evening.” After a fond goodnight, she left to find her own apartments.
Mere moments after Elizabeth closed the door to the hall behind her aunt, the one from the sitting room opened, and Darcy, after a quick glance to ensure she was alone, stalked in.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth, I know I said I would wait, but truly, what can you possibly have been discussing for so long that you have not already spoken of this past week?”
She meant to tease him for his disgruntlement but instead surprised herself by feeling suddenly tearful. “We were talking about Jane.”
His countenance was overcome with alarm, and he strode across the room to embrace her. “What in God’s name has been said?”
“Oh, nothing new. Only what passed between us in London. Forgive me. I know not why I am allowing it to upset me so. I am only tired, I think.”
She promptly found herself whisked off her feet and carried directly to her bed. He joined her, lying on his side with his head propped on one hand, and wiped away her tears with his thumb.
“I shall write to Bingley and tell him not to come,” he said so very gently.
“No,” Elizabeth answered sleepily. “Pray, do not. I should like to see Jane. To set matters aright.”
She was sunk too far into sleep to discern what he said in response. As she drifted off, she knew only that his assurances were whispered so tenderly and his caresses so gentle she could not have remained awake had she tried.
Friday 7 August 1812, Derbyshire
Darcy caught his breath when he espied her. She stood at the top of the steps just beyond the main door, illuminated by the sunlight cascading around her, humming quietly as she awaited the rest of the party.
Her distress and fatigue the previous evening had alarmed him greatly, for though little in the world compared to the contentment of watching her sleep in his arms, he was unused to seeing aught akin to fragility in her.
To see her now banished all his concern.
She was breath-taking—radiant of complexion, comely of figure, assured of carriage—and his.
He moved to stand directly behind her and put his lips to her ear.
“I swear you grow more tempting by the day.”
She jumped, half gasping and half laughing, though she made no attempt to move away.
Indeed, she arched her back slightly to press her temple to his cheek.
Whether it was also intentional that her buttocks pressed against him, he could not be sure, but he thought it probable.
He made a small, strangled noise, and his hands flew to her hips to stay her motion ere she rendered him indecent.
“My God, woman, I am on my knees for you.”
She turned to face him and raised one delicious eyebrow. “Now that is an intriguing prospect.”
Dear Lord, would she slay him here in the hall? “Pray, torture me not! I am only human, Elizabeth, and you are divine.”
She gave no response. With naught but a saucy smirk, she was gone, walking around him to greet her aunt, uncle and sister, just arriving downstairs with Georgiana.
He had married the Devil in a siren’s guise!
Biting the insides of his cheeks to suppress an exultant smile, he straightened his attire, that he might at least appear outwardly composed, and turned to escort their guests to the awaiting carriage.
“We have thoroughly enjoyed our visit, Darcy,” Mr Gardiner said as they walked outside. “Pemberley is without equal, and you and Lizzy have been delightful hosts. I cannot thank you enough for making us so welcome.”
“It has been our pleasure,” Darcy replied. “We are delighted you have agreed to come back at Christmas. Pemberley is an enchanting place for young children. I hope yours will enjoy it.”
“I have no doubt they will, sir, though whether Pemberley will like them quite as well in return by the end of the visit remains to be seen.”
“It has weathered worse in its time, I am sure.”
“And will again, I should not wonder, for if they are aught like their mother, then any children of Lizzy’s are unlikely to be particularly tractable, I am sorry to say.”
Darcy agreed with a small smile that did not come close to expressing his eagerness to begin a family with Elizabeth.
The prospect of establishing his own legacy at Pemberley—of its being Elizabeth with whom he did so, of seeing her make a child in her image and in her body—was one he anticipated with absurd impatience.
At the foot of the stairs, Mr Gardiner paused to say goodbye to his niece, and Darcy turned to bid farewell to the ladies.
His happy reflections having put him in an exceedingly good humour, he was moved to kiss each of their hands as he helped them into the carriage.
Mary smiled and wished him well. Mrs Gardiner audibly sucked in her breath and stumbled on the steps.
Keeping hold of her hand to steady her, Darcy leant to see her face around the rim of her bonnet better, enquiring gently after her wellbeing.
Her eyes, when they met his, widened ever so slightly, and she flushed bright red, skewering him squarely betwixt amusement and mortification.
For though humility demanded he admit it to nobody, he was not unconscious of his looks, and hers was not an unprecedented reaction.
“Silly me, I missed the step,” she said, all but leaping into the carriage.
“Oh, I shall miss you, Lizzy!” Mary said, leaning back out of the door to squeeze her sister’s hands, as close to high emotion as Darcy had ever seen her. “Pray, write often, and visit us at Longbourn as soon as may be.”
“There, there now, child,” Mr Gardiner said, shooing her back into her seat as he climbed in.
“You have been away as long as your sister has. It is time we took you home.” He indicated that the driver should set off then raised his hat cordially.
“Thank you again, Lizzy, Darcy, Miss Darcy. Until Christmas!”
A chorus of goodbyes arose between them all as the carriage pulled away. Darcy observed Elizabeth from the corner of his eye, hopeful that her relations’ departure would not distress her overmuch. On the contrary, she showed every sign of being greatly diverted.
“What amuses you?”
She made a poor attempt to conceal her mirth and shrugged. “Nothing.”
“You are determined to exclude me from all your jokes?”
“No, only some of them.”
“Have I not demonstrated my capacity for extracting information?”
“Yes, very well, but I am wise to your methods now.”
God, he wanted to kiss her. He wished his sister were not there, staring at them aghast as though they were hurling oaths at each other. Keeping his expression perfectly blank, he looked back to the disappearing carriage.
“You have no respect for me whatsoever, wife. I ought to have invited your aunt to stay. She is not so impervious to my charms.”
He vastly enjoyed Elizabeth’s surprise, by now of the firm opinion he must take his victories whenever he could with her.
“You know full well what diverted me!” she cried, laughing.
It was his turn to shrug. If he had noticed Mrs Gardiner’s discomposure, it was no great surprise her niece might have.
“Which is a shame,” she continued, “for I was thinking, had you got down on your knees, I might have been persuaded to tell you.”
Thus, she effortlessly reclaimed the victory and ran off gaily, leaving brother and sister staring after her in astonishment—the former wondering how on earth he was to reassure the latter that his wife did not truly expect him to beg, despite that being precisely what he meant to do.
Scarisbrick
8th August
Dearest Jane,
I thank you for your letter and good wishes.
You are too kind. We are indeed having a wonderful time.
This year’s gathering is even better than last since the Countess of Paignton is among the party.
Of course, you could not know her reputation for fun, so you must take my word that we are all having a lark.
And my, my! Your sojourns about London seem to have kept you busy!
I myself frequent the places you describe but rarely, but I am delighted to hear they pleased you so well.
Now, as to your reluctance to visit E, I entreat you not to refuse her invitation. Have I not counselled that a breach would be ill-advised? I say go, enjoy the many delights of P, and should E’s teasing and flirting prove no better, you may commiserate with me at your leisure.
Indeed, pray, write to me anyway with news of how she gets on, for I should be vastly comforted to know D does not regret his choice.
Your mention of her struggles with her new role is a cause for great alarm in that regard.
I can only hope the mistakes to which she alluded in her letter to you are neither too many nor too egregious.
Mayhap when you visit, you might show her by your example how a woman ought to be sensible of her station?
I wish you a happy wedding trip and look forward with relish to your next letter.
Lady Ashby