Chapter 29 Skeletons in the Closet
Elizabeth rested in Darcy’s lap on a sofa in the master’s chamber.
With Lady Catherine, Lady Louise, and Count Reimarus in residence, she had relinquished her room to the comfort of her relations.
She had so far spent little time in her husband’s private quarters and was intrigued by the decoration.
Was it a reflection of his character or a relic left by his father?
Darcy was verily the best of men. Ever since the suspicion had arisen that she might be with child, his solicitousness had doubled. He had even lit the fire, in August, because she was cold.
“I am ruminating upon the thought that separate bedrooms is utter nonsense,” Darcy grumbled.
“I agree, but that was what you were taught was proper. Was your parents’ marriage a happy one?”
“I used to believe so. In the eyes of society it was, but lately I have become more inclined to regard it as a business arrangement between fortune and rank. They were not affectionate…”
Elizabeth sensed that the lack of affection concerned not just the relationship between the parents but also how they behaved towards their children.
Poor Darcy; he needed to be taught what a true marriage would be like.
Not only for the joining of fortune, connections, and the procreation of children, but how to be a true partner—sharing all of life’s many pleasures and pains—relying on each other in every way.
She would be patient and address one prejudice at a time…
“What say you to making sharing one bedroom a permanent solution?” she asked bravely.
“I would like nothing more than spending every evening as we are now, with you reclined within my arms. Mistake me not, I do enjoy the procreation of children”—Darcy wiggled his eyebrows—“but I relish this quiet time of reflection even more.”
The coal in the hearth was glowing and radiated heat. It was becoming uncomfortable even in only her chemise for protection, though she relished Darcy’s comforting embrace. She shifted, but the warmth was unrelenting.
“I am loath to break our intimate tête-á-tête, but if I do not move, we shall have ham for dinner on the morrow.”
Darcy used the hint to grab her buttocks and huffed.
“You are scorching.”
Elizabeth did not reply. Something was niggling at her memory.
She looked at Darcy. It was impossible that he was the culprit, and if her conjectures were correct, the judge was speaking the truth.
Judge Darcy had added the unnecessary items to her shopping spree, but he may not be culpable for the scandals.
No. She must be mistaken. Some of the rumours had arisen before…
The caricature of her dress, which was Mrs Bean’s doing, but nothing else of a personal nature.
“Elizabeth, are you well?”
Darcy was regarding her with a quickly forming frown above his nose.
“Yes. I am very well.”
She rose to her feet.
“Excuse me for a moment. I just remembered something. I shall be back shortly.”
“Elizabeth?”
The tone in Darcy’s voice was one of uncertainty and vulnerability. The dear man was still anxious she would leave him again, but she had learnt her lesson. She would make no more impetuous decisions but henceforth confer with her husband until they reached a mutual agreement.
She turned and retreated to rise onto her toes and kiss his cheek.
“Will you warm the bed for me? I shall be back in no time.”
“You cannot leave our chamber dressed in that flimsy chemise!”
Elizabeth looked down at herself and the too-large shift she had inherited from Jane. It was comfortable, but one strap kept sliding off her shoulder.
She purloined Darcy’s coat off a chair and donned it over her shift.
Sending her husband the sauciest grin she could muster, she dared him to deny her his raiment.
His eyes turned molten, and with a racing heart she sauntered out of the room.
Only after she had closed the door did she hasten her stride until she reached the room three doors down and entered without knocking.
“It was you, was it not?”
“Excuse me!”
Elizabeth fought to suppress her temper and keep her voice low. She would rather not alarm the whole house before she was absolutely certain her accusations were correct.
“It has been you all along.”
“I do not understand. Of what are you accusing me?”
“You have been feeding the quidnuncs all these atrocities about my character, my alleged licentious behaviour, and the breach in my marriage. Dear God!”
Elizabeth paced in front of the unlit hearth, pulling Darcy’s coat tighter about her person. The smell of him calmed her strained nerves, allowing her to think more clearly.
“It all makes sense now. The retractions for the ball. Heaven forfend! You lured Lydia into the ambush, did you not?”
Her face did not betray a modicum of feeling, which was telling in itself.
“How did you induce Mr Wickham to do your bidding? Did you promise him access to Georgiana and her thirty thousand pounds? Did you bribe him?”
“You can stop this ridiculous melodramatic tragedy at once, Lizzy. You are becoming more like our mother by the day. You have no proof of what you are accusing me because none exists.”
Elizabeth cocked her head and studied the sister she had never known. Mary had neither genius nor taste. Vanity had given her application, which she applied with a pedantic air in a conceited manner.
“By the reason of deduction. Neither I nor Mr Darcy would divulge that I spent my last pounds at Gunther’s to the gossip rags.
The only other person with that knowledge was you, Mary.
Yet, it was all over the newspapers the following day.
If I harboured any doubts when I entered your room, I can assure you that none are left.
The only question remaining is why. Why would you ruin my name and, by association, our entire family. What could you stand to gain by it?”
Mary transformed before her eyes. Gone was the serene, all-knowing expression. In its place, her lips curled into a snarl and her eyes narrowed in disgust.
“You begrudged me even a few dresses.”
“Of course I did not!”
“You did. If not for Mr Darcy’s kind intervention, I would have worn your and Jane’s old hand-me-downs to every ball and dinner we attended.”
“I am wearing Jane’s old shift. There is no shame in fiscal prudence.
I think your dear Mr Fordyce would agree.
I would have forwarded you all I could of my pin money, but your request came at an inopportune moment.
Mr Darcy and I had just had a misunderstanding about some purchases, and I was loath to ask him for more money. ”
“That is hardly my fault.”
“No, it is not, and I am sorry you felt deprived. You know I would have given you one of my new unworn dresses if Mr Darcy had not offered to purchase what you needed.”
Mary huffed. “It is not only that which has initiated an implacable resentment. I have every reason to think ill of you. I chaperoned you and your beau often enough to know the frequency of your indiscretions. How you pranced and preened before Mr Darcy, kissing him at every opportunity, though you were not yet married. If not for your excellent husband, I would never have been invited to London or had the benefit of the masters in town.”
To Elizabeth’s consternation, Mary was speaking the truth.
It was highly unlikely she would have invited her middle sister if Darcy had not extended the invitation.
She did, however, arrange for the music master and the drawing tutor.
It was not true that she did not grant Mary all the advantages she had to bestow, though in some instances, as a new bride, she had acted selfishly and wished to have her beloved husband to herself.
Did that make her a terrible sister? Did she deserve to be ridiculed and demeaned in every manner?
Not to forget what Mary had done to her friend.
“Although your accusations against me are founded on some truth, you cannot say the same about Georgiana. She has done nothing to you, yet you revealed her deepest secret, exposing her to the censure of the ton.”
“That trollop? She is no better than Lydia! Or rather worse! She agreed to an elopement with a practised libertine. If Mr Darcy does not sire an heir, Georgiana’s spawn stands to inherit. The likes of Mr Wickham would ruin the estate by mismanagement, gambling, and whoring.”
Elizabeth staggered back from her sister, who must be possessed by the devil himself.
“Miss Darcy was but fifteen and was worked upon by her companion and an old friend of the family, whom she had no reason to mistrust. You must allow some leniency for the follies of youth and a low confidence in her own opinions.”
Mary only shrugged. “Mr Darcy deserves more than his sister or you can ever offer. He deserves someone pious, domesticated, and deprived of vanity.”
A ridiculous notion entered unbidden into her mind. It was farfetched, but Mary was delusional.
“If I may ask, who might this paragon of virtue be?” And to taunt her sister further she added, “I have never encountered such capacity, taste, and application as you describe, united in one woman.”
“Me!” Mary cried. “But you would never acknowledge your despicable inadequacies or my superior virtues. Oh no, you think so very highly of yourself, just like the addlepated Lydia.”
Elizabeth no longer wished to listen to her sister’s rant. How ugly a face jealousy had, reducing one to cruelty and lofty aspirations. It was a shadow upon her own character that she vowed to overcome. With a low grumble she addressed the problem.
“Mr Darcy would never have married you. Even if you had succeeded in ridding him of me, he would never have made an offer to you.”
Mary stepped closer, but Elizabeth was not cowed.
“You believe that if it gives you pleasure, but I shall have you know that Mr Darcy has been kind, solicitous, and obliging since the day we met. He may lust after a hoyden like you, but he respects me!”