Chapter 13
“Mrs Darcy, allow me to congratulate you on your marriage and to wish you happiness. I admit it was a shock to me — to us — and most likely to everyone. We did not know Darcy had any intention of marrying.”
“I have heard that often in recent days,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “I thank you for your good wishes and I return them. I understand you are recently married too.”
“Not so recent — almost five months ago.”
“Still recent enough for congratulations and best wishes. Please convey them to Mrs Wickham too.” Elizabeth smiled. Despite her husband’s disapproval, she found the gentleman to be amiable, with easy manners and a friendly address.
“Then I shall gladly accept them with gratitude. Georgiana will be equally happy to receive them, I am sure.”
“I am surprised to see you in London. I was told you lived in the North — it is quite a long journey in winter.”
“It is, but I am accustomed to long journeys. I am not sure whether you know, but I spent almost my entire life at Pemberley, and I used to travel to London very often.”
That piece of news surprised and puzzled Elizabeth.
“Your entire life?”
“Yes, until my godfather died five years ago.”
“Your godfather? I am sorry, I am not familiar with these details.”
“I am not surprised you are not. I assumed as much, as I am certain Darcy never speaks of this. His father, the late Mr George Darcy, was my godfather, and he truly loved me as a son.”
“Did he?” Elizabeth replied, bewildered. “Then are you related to the Darcys? Or a family friend?”
“Not quite. For many years, my excellent father had the management of the Pemberley estate. Mr George Darcy valued my father so much that he bestowed his affection upon me and supported my education, both at Eton and at Cambridge. He wished for me to become a clergyman, but he encouraged me to choose any career that suited me.”
“How generous of him! Is your father still alive?”
“No. Both my parents died before my godfather.”
“I am very sorry to hear that. And may I ask what career you chose?”
“Excuse me?”
“You mentioned your godfather encouraged you to pursue any career you wished, and I was curious.”
“Oh…” The question seemed to make him slightly uncomfortable. “The situation was of such a nature that I had to change careers several times. Once my godfather died, I was no longer welcome at Pemberley.”
“I see…” Elizabeth whispered, noticing his troubled countenance.
She realised she had touched on a sensitive point and presumed it was related to his marriage to Miss Darcy.
It had also become clear why Mr Darcy disapproved of him: he was nothing but the son of a steward, far from what would be considered a proper suitor for Mr Darcy’s sister.
She was curious to find out more, but she did not dare enquire further.
“I hope you will stay in town longer,” she finally replied. “I am eager to meet Mrs Wickham.”
“I plan to stay mostly in London from now on, but that depends on how certain things progress. And you, Mrs Darcy? Have you always lived in London?”
“Oh no, not at all. I have lived in Hertfordshire all my life and only visited London occasionally. I have just—”
The conversation was interrupted by the door abruptly opening, and Mr Darcy entered. Elizabeth smiled at him, ready to share the lovely surprise, but his face was cold and dark, and he stepped closer, hissing in a low voice, “What the hell are you doing here? How dare you enter my house!”
“Darcy, there is no need to be angry,” Mr Wickham replied, standing, his expression troubled. “It was your own wife who insisted I come in. She is such an agreeable companion that I could not refuse her.”
“Mr Darcy surely does not mind that I invited his sister’s husband into the house,” Elizabeth interjected, shocked by such an unexpected response.
“Madam, please be so kind as to leave us. I shall talk to you later,” Mr Darcy said without looking at her, in the same cold and biting tone.
“I beg your pardon?” she replied, stunned by such a demand.
“This is not something to beg pardon for, and I would rather not repeat my request. Please be so kind as to obey,” he said.
Elizabeth was almost suffocating with embarrassment and rage and, without looking at her husband, she said with as much composure as she could muster, “Mr Wickham, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope to see you again soon, under more agreeable circumstances.”
“Likewise, Mrs Darcy,” he said, bowing to her politely. Then she strode out of the room, head high, with not even a glance back, and did not stop until she reached her chamber and shut the door.
What audacity from her husband, to treat her like a servant, like she was worthless, a nobody — and in front of a man related to their family! That was a painful slap to her confidence — proof that she was worth nothing to him, which was probably true, now that he had her money.
The most excellent man her uncle had so praised had finally revealed his character and arrogance, as well as his true feelings towards her!
The fact that Mr Darcy did not approve of his sister’s marriage to Mr Wickham was no excuse to treat her in such a manner — nor him!
Regardless of any disagreements, he was the late Mr Darcy’s godson and Miss Darcy’s husband!
How could he be denied entry to the house?
Was Mr Darcy so full of resentment that he was lost to decency and common sense?
Hurt, offended, and angry, Elizabeth paced the room, fighting her tears, sorely tempted to leave the house immediately and remove to the Gardiners’. After all, Mr Darcy had her money — why would he care where she lived?
Her maid entered, asking whether she needed anything, and Elizabeth was forced to compose herself.
“I have a slight headache, and I shall rest for a little while. Please send up some tea and kindly ask everyone not to disturb me unless it is absolutely necessary,” she said, hoping Mr Darcy would understand and respect her specific request. Waiting for the tea, she took out a piece of paper and began to write a note for Mrs Gardiner, then put it aside.
The maid returned soon with the tea, and Elizabeth could not help asking, “Janey, has Mr Darcy’s guest left?”
“Mr Wickham? Yes, ma’am, he left quite some time ago.”
The maid knew Mr Wickham, Elizabeth mused, her curiosity overcoming her prudence.
“Janey, how long have you been with the Darcy family?”
“My whole life, ma’am. My parents worked at Pemberley for as long as I can remember.”
“Truly? And you are here alone?”
“Yes, ma’am. I wanted to come to London. Three years ago, when I turned fifteen, Mrs Reynolds recommended me to Mrs Green, and she accepted me here. She prepared me to be the mistress’s maid. I also learnt to be a seamstress, ma’am.”
“I did not know, but I am happy you are my maid, Janey.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You are very kind. Mrs Darcy?”
“Yes, Janey?”
“May I say something? I hope you don’t mind…”
“Not at all, you may tell me anything.”
“We are very happy that the master married you. We always wondered whom he would marry, who would be good enough for him, and whether he’d find someone as kind and generous as himself. We’re all happy that you’re here.”
The girl’s voice was full of emotion, her cheeks crimson and her face expressing nothing but pure sincerity, throwing Elizabeth again into a jumble of bewildered thoughts. Did the servants truly believe that about her? Did they accept their arranged marriage as a legitimate one?
“Thank you, Janey, truly. I am equally happy to be the mistress of this house. The household is everything one could dream of.” She held back her opinion of the master, and yet, speaking with so much honesty, Elizabeth’s voice trembled from all the emotions she had experienced in the last half an hour.
“I shall leave you to rest now, ma’am,” Janey said. “Please ring when you need me.”
The brief conversation with the maid changed Elizabeth’s state of mind but increased her agitation. She lay on the bed, pulled the sheets around her, and closed her eyes, trying to put her thoughts in order about the revealing and distressing day.
The indiscreet remarks of the three women outside the dressmaker’s likely matched the opinions of everyone who knew Mr Darcy.
That he was the object of many young women’s desires was expected since he was a wealthy gentleman, from an old family, with an excellent situation in life, master of his own estate, and with good connections. And tolerably handsome, she supposed.
However, she had never before considered that there might have been other women who had held Mr Darcy’s interest in the past — and probably also in the present. While she had convinced herself she did not care, she was still unsettled and intrigued about it.
But such curiosity had disappeared the moment he had acted like a savage and actually banished her to her room while demanding she obey.
While her opinion of her husband and his temper had worsened, she had been astonished to discover that the servants considered him kind and generous and found her suited to him.
She could laugh at such a statement, which she had heard before from the Gardiners.
The household might have been excellently trained, her uncle and aunt might have been educated people, but they were all completely ignorant of the reality.
Elizabeth’s interest rested chiefly on Mr Wickham, about whom she had learnt so much in such a short while.
He was charming, beyond a doubt. It was no wonder a young and impressible girl, especially if she had been sheltered by an overbearing brother, had fallen in love and eloped with him.
However, while she had been enchanted by his company, she had to be honest with herself and admit that two things bothered her upon recollection.