Chapter Twenty
During the night after they arrived at Darcy’s London house, Darcy woke from his recurrent dream where Wickham deloped, and despite that he shot him in a cold rage. His heart raced, and he was alone. He wished Elizabeth was sleeping with him, like the first night.
Darcy immediately went across to the mistress’s suite of room so that he could find Elizabeth.
She was already awake, sitting in her dressing room. She smiled at her own face, while her hair was worked upon by the maid who had been hired by his people in London to serve as her lady’s maid, if they suited.
She warmly greeted Darcy, “And what do you think of Hester’s work?”
“I do not know,” Darcy replied. She looked lovely, but somehow a little more like every woman he met at a ball or a dinner. More like a society woman. “It looks slightly odd to see you wearing your hair in a different way. I think this is not a style you could easily manage on your own.”
Elizabeth laughed. “And you did know why I have so strongly preferred simple buns.”
“You are a practical woman,” he smiled at her, and looked about for a stool to sit on. “I have always liked that.”
“Is that your way of saying that you prefer the bun?—Hester, do give Mr. Darcy that chair, thank you, thank you. I think the hair is managed, you may go down, and I shall call you when I put on a dress to go out.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
The stiff-faced woman curtseyed quickly to Darcy, and then left, maintaining a professional demeanor.
Elizabeth shrugged when she was gone. “I hardly know what to think of her. She seems much too formal for my tastes. But I do not know if it is required to be friends with my lady’s maid.”
“You are required,” Darcy replied, “to manage that matter in the way which will bring you the greatest happiness and satisfaction.”
“Useless, useless advice!”
Darcy grinned at her. He felt enormously happier now that they were in the same room together.
“She is a capable woman. This hair was done quickly, and it is beautiful—it is not quite me. I suppose I would feel a little guilty if I do not hire a person simply because they are too fine for my taste.”
“Think nothing of that, I believe she would receive a quarter’s wages no matter how long she remains in our service.”
“And she knows quite well that this is a matter of a probationary service—and I would wager a great amount that she would find no difficulty getting an equally good position in quick order.” Elizabeth sighed.
“I certainly shall not make any decision till most of our week in London is done. I never thought I would have my own maid, just for doing my hair and clothes.”
“You deserve everything,” Darcy said. He smiled at the thought. He was very happy that he could provide her servants and clothes, and the ability to make every choice she wished.
She touched his cheek briefly after he said that and looked deep into Darcy’s eyes. “I appreciate it.”
“Would you be unhappy if I came with you when you go out to purchase new clothes? I do wish to see what you shall select for yourself.”
“And to have your right to comment upon how fetching it is?” She smiled at him in a most fetching manner. Then she sighed and frowned.
“I do not need to attend you, if you would prefer to manage the task without any male company.”
“No, no. I only...” Elizabeth groaned and sat back down on the dressing stool.
“I do not want to spend much on clothes. I positively hate the thought, and when I imagine standing in the private room of a fashionable modiste, draped with lace, silks, and expensive jewels, I feel more and more anxious. I don’t wish to.
I do not wish to purchase any of them. Lord, why would I? What good do clothes do for anyone?”
“Warmth?”
Elizabeth giggled, and that made Darcy feel that flutter inside of himself again.
“I see that this is a serious matter for you,” he added. “Is it because of what you said that you could not sell the clothes for much money when Mr. Wickham abandoned you? You know that you will not find yourself in a similar situation again.”
Elizabeth curled one foot up onto the stool and frowned. “No, no. Mr. Wickham had delighted in choosing my clothing. He said that it showed that I belonged to him—I was delighted by the attention. By everything then. I belonged to him.”
“My eagerness to see you with new clothes reminds you of that?”
“Should it not? I perceive it in your manner. You like the idea that I will have been dressed by you, to your taste.”
“Is that wrong?” A little annoyance was in Darcy’s voice.
“No, no. I am not saying it is.”
“I like the thought of knowing you are well cared for. I like the thought that you can wear what you wish and be dressed as you deserve to be. I like being able to care for you. But you care for me. There is nothing wrong with that.”
“No. No, I do not mean there is. It is—Lord! It is hard to trust.”
She looked at him with pleading eyes. And even though the last thing she said had an interpretation that begged him to become frustrated with her, to feel as though she were treating him as if he was in some way like Wickham, Darcy instead studied her eyes.
Elizabeth’s beautiful face, and the way that her manner showed that she always needed help. He did not understand why she was made unhappy by the prospect of expensive clothes, while having a lady’s maid and travelling with a chaise and four did not upset her, but his goal was to care for her.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy let out a breath. “You need not dress in any way you do not wish. Do not pay attention to my feelings in this matter.”
“I do care for your feelings, a great deal,” Elizabeth replied. “I do.”
“I know.” He smiled at her.
They sat next to each other for a while. Elizabeth then stretched and yawned. Her breasts were briefly outlined more sharply against her dressing robe. “I know it is ridiculous. I know that I shall need more dresses than I currently have.”
“Not very many,” Darcy replied. “You might make do with only two pieces for balls, and two or three more for dinners and then several for ordinary life. Not more than ten pieces in total.”
Elizabeth took his hand. She did that increasingly often since they had agreed to marry.
He liked that holding his hand gave her comfort.
“It would give my maid a horrid case of nerves if I only kept as few pieces as could be managed with—if the laundry had difficulties one day, then she would become distraught.”
“I do not disagree, with that.” Darcy replied, “But I ask you to please yourself.”
“I should not make my life, and the lives of my servants, more difficult simply as a matter of pride. It is pride, I suppose.” Elizabeth sighed. “So much of everything is.”
“This does not seem to me to chiefly be pride—you are strong, and you have needed to be strong. You fear the possibility of becoming weak.”
She smiled at him, and then sighed, and rested her head against his chest. “Yes, yes. You are right. That is also a great part of the matter.”
“I think we should visit a dressmaker of your choice and order the few pieces that you think are necessary, and that can be ready by the time we leave London, but nothing of extravagance. And afterwards, we shall visit the bookshops along Paternoster and use your ‘book money’ for its primary purpose.”
Elizabeth looked at Darcy with warmth.
The fact was that the visit to the dressmakers exhausted Darcy for the next hours.
He found himself obliged to sit on a divan next to the fitting room, unable to move a great deal while he could hear Georgiana enthusiastically encouraging Elizabeth in her purchases, and with Darcy expected, a great deal more success than any such efforts on his own part could have garnered.
They then went to a park nearby, and Darcy found himself feeling rather stronger after the rest, and he was able to pick Emily and George up for a little, though chasing them about was still beyond his abilities.
The children tossed bread into the water for the ducks, and every time one of the ducks waddled up and ate one of the shredded bits that she tossed to them, Emily backed away from the bird while shrieking in delight and pointing.
The expedition to the bookshops was delayed, however until Darcy had a little more energy on a further day.
That evening they went to see a play that Elizabeth had mentioned a strong interest in seeing.
During the intermission a great many persons came to visit their box to be introduced to Elizabeth, and something of her cheerfulness and grace as she met his acquaintances led for them to decide that they would tell everyone that they would be available to callers the following morning.
A little after the intermission Darcy fell asleep, and he was woken to return home by his smiling wife kissing him on the forehead.
The next day Georgiana felt quite ill at breakfast, and did not eat much besides cereal, but her poor stomach was studiously not mentioned by any of the adults, though little George was concerned, and made a point of trying to make Georgiana eat one of his lemon tarts.
In the end she only nibbled on a dry crust of bread.
Afterwards Elizabeth dressed in the best dress she had, the same lovely yellow silk that her father had purchased for her and which she had worn for their wedding.
She sat out with Darcy to receive what visitors might come by.
Georgiana sat out with them, but she was quiet, pale, and clearly anxious about her own state.
Georgiana had an embroidery bag, with fine knitting in it, and Elizabeth complimented her on the neatness of the points.
Darcy pressed a hand on Georgiana’s shoulder and told her that all would be well. He resisted the urge to tell her that she could go up to her own rooms, or the library, because he thought it was best for her that she become more used to being around other people.