Chapter 9 Out of Blue Comes Green #2
Elizabeth was not particularly concerned on her own behalf. The colonel had never, apart from the incident in the library, shown any romantic interest in her person. She had been stunned when he hinted at his impediments to choosing his own bride at Rosings, implying it had anything to do with her.
The latter years’ events had proved her right.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had no interest in her beyond the fact she was the wife of the master of Pemberley and subsequently the mother of its future heirs.
The colonel now being married to the heir presumptive—before her daughter had surprised him with her existence—could mean only one thing: the colonel wanted Pemberley by any means necessary.
Why Mr Darcy remained ignorant to that fact was a conundrum, but she doubted any observation from her would change his mind.
It spoke well of Mr Darcy that he preferred his daughter as his successor over his cousin’s progeny.
But the colonel was now aware of the preference, which made him a threat to Ellie.
Elizabeth’s move to the nursery proved fortuitous indeed as it allowed her to protect her daughter at night, and her evening prayer was dedicated to fervently wishing Mr Darcy would not oppose the arrangement should it come to his attention.
#
The next morning, the breakfast room was shy of one resident. It irked Darcy that Elizabeth shunned his company so much that she would not even deign to share a meal with him. It was not he who was to blame for the disaster that had befallen them.
He had excused her behaviour the previous evening due to fatigue from her travels, but she should be well rested by now.
He discreetly ordered a servant to fetch her.
It would not do for the mistress of Pemberley to snub her guests, though he found pleasure in observing her reserve towards the colonel.
She should rightly feel ashamed of herself; even trepidation was natural and just.
The footman returned unsuccessfully. Mrs Darcy was not in her chamber, and nothing suggested she had been there since the previous evening. The bed had been left untouched, according to the maid who had lit the fire in the morning. The servant had been thorough.
It would not have been such an uncommon occurrence before Mrs Darcy’s estrangement. She had often slept in the master’s suite, but none of the servants working at Pemberley was unfamiliar with the course of events and the unlikelihood of that ever happening.
“Find her!” the master of Pemberley hissed to his footman.
“I already have. She has breakfasted in the nursery, sir. An extra cot has been added to the room.”
“Thank you, that will be all,” Darcy managed to grind out through his teeth.
If she had moved to the nursery to avoid his advances, it had been an unnecessary endeavour. He had no wish to resume their intimate relationship. His wife was here solely for the comfort of his child, nothing more.
“Is Mrs Darcy giving you trouble already?” the colonel probed with a poorly concealed smirk.
“It is nothing I cannot handle. Excuse me. I have business to attend to this morning. You will have to entertain yourselves for a while,” he hastened to declare and rose abruptly.
“We can manage, can we not, dear?”
The colonel and his sister shared a pitiful glance in his direction, but Darcy had no need for their sympathy.
He was no worse off than most of his acquaintances, if the stories related at White’s were true.
Cuckolding was fairly common; faithfulness was rather scarce in superior society.
It served him right for choosing a wife so beneath him in station, though he doubted he would have been any better off with a wife from the ton.
The female gender was called the weaker sex for a reason.
The male sex was definitely less fickle.
Bingley sprung to mind; he had demonstrated more backbone than Darcy had previously given him credit for.
#
Elizabeth entered the dining room with her head held high.
Her husband had called her to his study and related in no uncertain terms that she was expected to attend breakfast and dinner as long as they were hosting guests.
Elizabeth felt the perverseness of entertaining the colonel, the man who had accosted her and ruined her life.
Why Mr Darcy could tolerate him was beyond her comprehension.
Either he was enduring the reprobate for the sake of his sister or he blamed her alone for their present circumstances.
Elizabeth let her gaze drift towards the officer.
All his attention was focused on his wife, which was a relief.
She had been apprehensive after he had followed her to the threshold of the parlour the previous day, trying to intimidate her.
Her gaze moved to Mr Darcy. He was deep in thought and only picked at his food.
His eyes left his plate and swept over his sister.
Elizabeth stifled a gasp at the tender sentiments reflected in the glance.
He was tolerating his cousin because of Mrs Fitzwilliam.
“Mrs Darcy.”
Elizabeth startled, surprised at being addressed. “Yes.”
“I wonder where you and Elysande have been living these past years?”
Mrs Fitzwilliam, bless her heart, tried to include her in the conversation. Mr Darcy was scowling, while the colonel did not look up from his food.
“I rented a cottage in Little King’s Hill.”
“How delightful. I suppose you know Brother has a cottage in the Lakes.”
Elizabeth smiled; she had never seen the aforementioned cottage, but she did not need to have viewed it to determine that it was nothing like her own cramped quarters.
“Lovely. Have you often had the opportunity to visit there?” she asked out of politeness.
“No, not often. I have some delightful memories of fishing there with my father. Richard and I are travelling thither for our honeymoon.”
The young woman blushed scarlet after mentioning her honeymoon, whilst stealing glances at Elizabeth.
“I hope you have a lovely time, Mrs Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth smiled in a reassuring manner whilst omitting to mention the colonel.
Neither did she mention her own wish to see it.
The Lakes had been the Gardiners’ original destination, the summer she had reunited with Mr Darcy.
How she wished they had ventured farther north and had never laid eyes on Pemberley, nor its master.
As it was, she only hoped the couple would not tarry long in her home but would soon continue their journey to the Lakes.
#
Elizabeth spent a restless night in the nursery.
Elysande had awoken in the evening and discovered her mother was missing.
It had taken Elizabeth time to calm her daughter after she returned from dinner.
As a result, Ellie was clinging to her the next morning, refusing to let go.
She was left with no other choice but to take her daughter to the breakfast room, despite her fears that the colonel might pay her too much attention.
Fortunately, the man paid Ellie no mind at all, engaged as he was with serving his wife. Mr Darcy, on the other hand, enquired why the child had been brought out of the nursery.
“She is used to her mother being present at all times and needs a period of adjustment,” Elizabeth replied curtly, though well aware that children should eat in the nursery.
Mr Darcy ordered the child to be removed.
A maid picked her up, but Ellie screamed with tears flowing down her cherubic face and her arms flailing towards her mother.
The master yielded and allowed his daughter to remain.
The child quieted and sat primly by Elizabeth’s side with only the occasional hiccup while she waited for her jam roll.
“Did you never leave her with her nurse?” Mrs Fitzwilliam asked.
A mirthless chuckle escaped Elizabeth’s throat before she could stop it, but she answered Georgiana in a subdued manner. It was not a topic she wanted to expound upon.
“We did not have a nurse.”
“Mrs Darcy lived in a two-room cottage with no servants, Georgiana.”
Mr Darcy obviously felt no impediments towards relating Elizabeth’s reduced circumstances. Perhaps wanting to set an example to his sister.
“But…who cooked, cleaned, and tended the fires?” Georgiana’s none-too-subtle glance at Elizabeth’s hands made her tuck them under the table.
“I did, Mrs Fitzwilliam. I also carried the water and chopped my own firewood—”
“I thought Mr Freight chopped your wood,” Mr Darcy rudely interrupted.
“He did when he called with his daughter.” Elizabeth turned to Mrs Fitzwilliam to explain.
“Mr Freight was a widower with a young daughter called Millicent. I did her hair on occasions when they were entertaining and taught her to play the pianoforte in exchange for firewood from his nearby forest. Of course, my brother often came to do the heavy jobs, once he discovered my whereabouts.”
“I was unaware you had a brother, Mrs Darcy,” the colonel interjected.
Elizabeth turned her gaze towards her nemesis.
“Mr Bingley married my eldest sister in the autumn of 1812, as you well know.” She did not mention that she had also married at the same ceremony.
The colonel laughed. “I cannot picture Bingley chopping wood. He was always so…delicate.”
Elizabeth aimed a look at him that had the potency to set the colonel ablaze.
“Mr Bingley is the most amiable gentleman I have ever met. His strength is in his mind, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He brought men from his employ rather than labour himself.”
“Charlie papa Bingle?” Ellie found her voice when her dear uncle was mentioned. “Ellie’s papa,” she added, pointing at Mr Darcy, who startled at the appellation.
“Would you say yielding easily to persuasion is a sign of strength, Mrs Darcy?” The colonel would not let it rest, overlooking Ellie’s exclamation as though she were not in the room.