Chapter 5
Five
April
ELIZABETH AWOKE TO SUNLIGHT streaming through a gap in curtains she did not recognize.
The disorientation lasted only seconds before memory flooded back: the wedding, the journey to London, and what had followed in this very bed.
Heat rose to her cheeks as she recalled the intimacies she had shared with her new husband, the pleasure she had found in his arms.
She turned her head, half-expecting to find Darcy still beside her, but his place was empty, the pillow bearing only the slightest indentation where his head had rested. Elizabeth reached out to touch the sheet where he had lain, finding it cool. He had been gone some time.
The discovery brought relief and disappointment.
What would she have said to him in the bright light of morning after such vulnerability in the darkness?
Yet his absence left questions unanswered.
Had their physical connection been merely the fulfillment of duty, or the beginning of something more substantial?
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. “Come in,” she called, pulling the bedcovers higher.
The door opened to admit a young woman in a neat black dress with a white apron, her brown hair tucked neatly beneath a cap. She curtseyed deeply. “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Sarah, your lady’s maid. Mrs. Wilson sent me to help you dress.”
“Thank you, Sarah.” Elizabeth offered a smile, noting how the girl’s curious gaze quickly assessed her new mistress before dropping respectfully. “Has Mr. Darcy risen already?”
“Yes, ma’am. The master is always up by seven.
He’s in his study now, attending to correspondence.
” Sarah moved to the wardrobe, opening it to reveal the modest collection of gowns Elizabeth had brought from Longbourn.
“Will you break your fast in your sitting room this morning or join the master downstairs?”
The question highlighted how little Elizabeth knew of her husband’s daily habits or what might be expected of her as his wife. “What is customary in this house?”
Sarah hesitated. “Mr. Darcy usually takes breakfast in the small dining room at eight, ma’am. When Miss Georgiana is in residence, she joins him.”
“Then I shall do the same,” Elizabeth decided, pushing back the bedcovers. “I would not wish to disrupt established routines.”
As Sarah helped her wash and dress, Elizabeth observed the young woman’s efficiency, so different from Hill’s motherly assistance at Longbourn.
This was a proper lady’s maid, trained in the intricacies of styling hair and arranging clothing to best advantage.
Elizabeth found herself grateful for the girl’s quiet competence as she selected a morning dress of pale blue muslin.
“If I may say, ma’am,” Sarah ventured as she arranged Elizabeth’s dark hair into a simple but elegant style, “you have beautiful hair. So thick and with such natural curls.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, watching in the mirror as Sarah’s deft fingers transformed her unruly curls into something approaching fashion. “I confess I am unaccustomed to having a personal maid. At Longbourn, we shared the services of our housekeeper for such matters.”
“I’m honored to serve you, ma’am,” Sarah said, securing the final pin. “There, that should hold nicely. Shall I show you to the breakfast room? The house can be confusing at first.”
Elizabeth gratefully accepted the offer, following Sarah through the labyrinthine corridors. They passed several servants engaged in morning tasks, each pausing to bow or curtsey with varying degrees of curiosity evident in their expressions.
The breakfast room proved to be a pleasant chamber with large windows overlooking a small but well-tended garden. Darcy stood as Elizabeth entered, his face composed into its usual inscrutable expression.
“Good morning,” he said, his deep voice betraying nothing of the intimacy they had shared hours before. “I trust you slept well?”
“Very well, thank you,” Elizabeth replied, taking the chair a footman held for her. The formal exchange felt utterly inadequate following what had passed between them, yet she could think of no appropriate alternative with servants present.
Only when the footman had served her tea and withdrawn did Darcy speak more personally. “You look well this morning,” he said, his eyes briefly meeting hers with an intensity that recalled the night before. “The blue suits you.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth busied herself with her tea, uncertain how to navigate this new terrain where they were neither comfortable companions nor complete strangers, but something undefined between the two. “You rose early.”
“It is my habit,” he replied. “There were matters requiring my attention.”
The conversation lapsed into silence as they ate, interrupted only by the occasional polite request to pass the marmalade or butter.
As they finished, Darcy folded his napkin and addressed her more directly. “I have arranged for Madame Delacrois, the modiste who creates gowns for my sister, to call at eleven. She will measure you for a wardrobe appropriate to your new position.”
“That is thoughtful,” Elizabeth said carefully, recalling his assertion the previous evening about appearances reflecting on the Darcy name. “Though I hope my current garments will not occasion immediate embarrassment.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed slightly. “Your clothing is perfectly acceptable for country life, Elizabeth. But London society has different expectations of a woman in your position.”
“As Mrs. Darcy,” she said, testing the sound of her new identity.
“Yes.” His expression softened momentarily. “I would have you comfortable in all aspects of your new life.”
The sentiment seemed genuine, giving Elizabeth courage to ask the question that had been forming since she awoke. “What is expected of me today, beyond meeting the modiste? I confess I am uncertain of my duties as mistress of this house.”
Darcy looked as though he had not considered how completely Elizabeth’s life had transformed overnight.
“Mrs. Wilson has managed the household efficiently for years. She will assist you in assuming whatever responsibilities you wish to undertake. As for today, you might wish to review the dinner menus for the week or perhaps become better acquainted with the house.”
“I see.” Elizabeth wondered if he had any personal expectations of her beyond appearing suitably decorated at his side when required.
Seeming to sense her uncertainty, Darcy added, “My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has invited us to dine tomorrow evening. It will be a small gathering, suitable for your first appearance in society as my wife.”
“How considerate of him,” Elizabeth said. “I look forward to meeting your family.”
“Fitzwilliam is not like my aunt, Lady Catherine,” Darcy said, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You will find him amiable and unpretentious.”
“Unlike yourself?” The teasing words slipped out before Elizabeth could reconsider them, a return to the impertinence that had characterized their earliest interactions.
Mr. Darcy’s mouth curved in something that approached a smile. “My cousin possesses all the social graces I lack. He will undoubtedly charm you thoroughly.”
Before she could respond, a footman appeared to announce that Mrs. Wilson awaited Mrs. Darcy’s convenience.
“I shall leave you to become acquainted with the household,” Darcy said, rising. “We will dine at seven. Until then, consider yourself at liberty to explore your new domain.”
As he departed, Elizabeth found herself studying his retreating form, recalling how those broad shoulders had felt beneath her hands the night before.
She quickly redirected her thoughts as Mrs. Wilson entered, a handsome woman of middle years with a calm, capable air.
“Mrs. Darcy.” The housekeeper curtseyed. “Welcome to London. I hope you found your chambers satisfactory.”
“Very much so, thank you.” Elizabeth rose to meet the woman who had managed Darcy’s London abode for years. “Everything has been arranged most thoughtfully.”
A flicker of approval crossed Mrs. Wilson’s features. “I’ve prepared an inventory of the house contents and staff duties for your review, ma’am, whenever you wish to become more familiar with the household. I’m sure Mrs. Reynolds will have arranged similar documents for you at Pemberley.”
The thickness of the leather-bound volume the housekeeper presented made Elizabeth momentarily grateful for her father’s insistence that she read widely.
“How thorough,” she said, accepting it with a smile.
“I appreciate your assistance, Mrs. Wilson. I have much to learn about managing a set of quarters of this size.”
“If I may say so, ma’am, there’s no hurry to master everything at once. Mr. Darcy values efficiency, but he’s not one to interfere in household matters unless something is amiss.”
Elizabeth noted the subtle message beneath the words: that Darcy was a reasonable master, but one with exacting standards.
“I shall rely on your guidance initially,” she said, “but I do intend to fulfill my responsibilities as mistress of the house. Perhaps you might show me through the principal rooms now, to better orient myself?”
The housekeeper’s expression warmed slightly, as though Elizabeth had given a correct, if unexpected, answer. “Of course, ma’am. Shall we begin with the formal receiving rooms?”
The tour revealed a grand townhouse of elegant proportions and exquisite taste, every room appointed with furniture of the finest quality and art selected with a discerning eye.
Elizabeth tried to absorb the details of each chamber while also noting the names and duties of servants they encountered along the way.