Chapter 29 #2
How much her life had changed since the previous winter!
How much her feelings had changed since the previous month was equally surprising.
She had expected to be content and at peace in an indifferent if amiable marriage ruled by a contract.
Instead, she felt restless, troubled, anxious all the time, sad and frustrated on occasion, yet not unhappy nor regretful.
What had happened to her? Why did she find it so difficult to understand herself?
The rumbling sound of a carriage brought her back from her reverie, and the beating of her heart increased when she recognised it.
Before he entered, her husband lifted his head as if he knew she was watching.
Flushed, she stepped back, glanced at her image in the looking glass, then sat on the bed and waited.
The knock on the door came sooner than she anticipated, and at her invitation, it opened.
Still dressed for the out of doors, he bowed to her, then gave a shadow of a smile.
“I hope I am not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. Please come in. I have been waiting for you, and I just noticed it had begun to snow. I love everything about the snow — from watching it fall to playing in it, much to my mother’s disapproval. Nobody in my family shared my enjoyment.”
“It is snowing, but I doubt it will last too long. The temperature is not low enough, and I expect it will have turned into slush and dirt by tomorrow. Pemberley is beautiful in winter, and probably Longbourn too. London — not so much.”
His gaze and voice were warm, in opposition to his strained expression.
“You look tired and pale,” she said. “You must be hungry. Would you like something to eat?”
“No, thank you. I shall wait till dinner. I shall just take off this wet coat and relax with a drink.”
“As you wish,” she said, unprepared for the wave of disappointment and unable to conceal her regret. She had hoped he would share some news, or just spend some time in her company, but he seemed to prefer solitude.
He took a few steps back, hesitated briefly, then said, “Would you like a glass of sherry, perhaps, and to keep me company? We may talk a little about today as we may not have the chance in your sister’s presence.”
Her cheeks became warmer. “Yes, I would like that…to keep you company and talk, I mean, not the sherry.”
“Excellent,” he replied with unexpected good humour.
She followed him; in his room, he invited her to sit, then threw his coat and hat onto a chair near the fire and filled his glass.
She gazed after him as he moved about the room, distracted, anxious for him to begin the conversation.
He did so from a chair only inches away from hers.
“I hope your visit to your family was pleasant.”
“Reasonably so… I was glad to see my stepmother and sisters after so many months. But the reunion was as distressing as I feared. Mrs Bennet’s habits will not change easily. Quite the contrary.”
“What sort of habits might distress you even now? Might there be anything I can help you with?”
“Nothing worth your time. Have I ever mentioned to you that my stepmother did not know the extent of my fortune? Please be careful to keep the secret, or I shall not have a single day in my life without her demanding something or another. And I am not talking about baubles, lace, or ribbons.”
His countenance changed, and a frown appeared between his eyebrows. “Yes, you did mention that. But I assume we still have many things to find out about each other, especially related to our past lives.”
“I assume we have. There are so many things happening in our present that we have not had enough time to share all the stories about our past.”
“True,” he said, and the little smile returned to his lips. “But you may always depend on my secrecy. Besides, I do not see myself debating such a subject with your stepmother.”
“You do not know her. She would be most willing to discuss your money and negotiate purchases with you as soon as she sets foot in this house, I assure you. Maybe as soon as she sees it from the street. Please do not hesitate to censure her, as needed.”
“I shall not censure your family on their first visit to our home, Elizabeth,” he replied with a trace of amusement. “But I shall not allow anyone to distress you — of that, you may be sure.”
“Thank you,” she replied, wondering why her face was burning so. The entire day, she had wondered about him, by turns doubting and fretting; yet after only a few minutes in his company, her thoughts had become confused and unsettled. Of one thing she was certain: she enjoyed being there, with him.
“I hope your business was successful?” she finally enquired.
“There was little success in my endeavour as Wickham was dishonest in every word and every action. As you know, he asserted he had some papers, but I could not find them anywhere. We must search further. I even met several of his friends and associates — men and women — hoping money or other inducements would convince them to disclose more. But, despite my promises, or in some cases my threats, it appears they know nothing. Or perhaps there was nothing to find, only more of Wickham’s lies and deceptions.
The funeral is arranged and will take place on Monday.
Since Georgiana is his widow, anything we find that belongs to him should rightfully be hers. ”
“Those papers you are looking for — does it truly matter whether you find them?”
“It might not matter, but I have been fretting about the consequences of my father’s actions for five years now and struggling to remedy them. Now I am questioning the wisdom of my own actions in that time.”
“Perhaps you should allow yourself a little time to rest. Tomorrow is Sunday, so after services we shall do nothing but relax in the library. Georgiana is home and safe, and if you are in need of funds, you may use my fortune. I have no need of it, and I am sure you would put it to better use. If only for your peace of mind.”
He seemed surprised and unsettled, and she wondered whether she had been wrong to mention her fortune again.
“Thank you,” he answered eventually and sipped from his drink. Their interlude ended without Elizabeth having the chance to enquire further as they heard the clock signalling it was time to go down to dinner.
With only the two Darcys and Jane, the evening passed quietly.
“Bingley expressed his desire to call on Monday,” Darcy said, drawing Jane’s attention. “I took the liberty of approving it, though I shall not be home in the morning, but I told him that Mrs Darcy and her sister will be happy to receive him.”
“Mr Bingley is a dear friend, and we shall be happy indeed to receive him,” Elizabeth said with a glance at her flushed sister.
“Also, I wondered whether it would be convenient for you to invite Mr Crawford to dine with us soon. It depends on your plans with your family,” Darcy added conversationally.
Surprised by such a suggestion, Elizabeth needed a moment before she could answer.
“More than convenient,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “But not for a few days. Tomorrow should be a day for rest.”
Their eyes locked, and he nodded.
“As you wish, madam,” he said in a formal tone under a smile that grew wider.
Elizabeth’s spirits increased by the moment, induced by his obvious attentions towards her.
The dinners with her cousin and her family, which he had so generously offered, were meant for her; for him, she knew, they would be more of a burden.
He put her comfort and pleasure above his own, and she felt a desire to thank him for that.
Jane retired for the night earlier than usual, and Elizabeth hoped for another private interlude with her husband. There were still things that remained unsaid, and she felt that night might be the right moment.
Before she had a chance to express her thoughts, he rose and walked to the window, peering out, then suddenly turned to her.
“It is still snowing! Quite a pleasing surprise.”
Surprised too, she approached, gazing out. “How beautiful! Everything is white and clean. It will be a pity if it has all disappeared by tomorrow.”
“It will, but tonight is beautiful indeed. Pure, untouched, undisturbed… I was wondering…Mrs Darcy, what say you to a walk in the park, in the snow?”
Elizabeth stared at him and half frowned, half smiled, doubtful, waiting to be teased further.
“You should not mock me because of something that gives me pleasure, sir.”
“I would by no means mock or suspend any pleasure of yours, Elizabeth,” he declared in a serious voice that increased her disbelief.
“My question was in earnest. I know the time might not favour the activity as it is dark, quite late, and cold. But I would be delighted to keep you company while you enjoy the first snow, if you would have me.”
His eyes — usually dark and deep, now clear and warm — held hers, willing her to trust his words, while she struggled to answer, her knees weak.
“There is nothing I would like more, Fitzwilliam, than to walk in the snow with you. And I happen to think there could not be a more perfect time.”