Chapter 13
Darcy smiled crookedly to himself. It was hardly a productive use of time to sit in his study, staring into the distance and turning a quill over in his hands.
It was particularly absurd to do so when he had a thick stack of documents waiting for his attention — and yet this was precisely how he had spent far too much of the day.
Elizabeth’s lessons with the formidable Lady Catherine were to blame.
He worried for her. She seemed confident that she could handle his aunt, but the reality of Lady Catherine’s bluntness and disregard for other’s feelings was impossible to anticipate.
That Elizabeth might find herself badly mistaken seemed all too likely.
Then, too, Darcy was not entirely sure that he wished his wife to follow Lady Catherine’s lead in managing a large house and estate.
Lady Catherine’s home was over-formal, even fussy, and her neighbours subject to all kinds of well-meaning but officious interference.
He would hardly wish Elizabeth to copy such traits.
It was true that under Lady Catherine, Rosings Park and the surrounding area had been well-kept and prosperous. Lady Catherine’s sense of duty and order was admirable and could only benefit anyone to copy. If only all her qualities were equally beneficial!
Perhaps he need not worry. His wife had already shown herself to be a fitting match for Lady Catherine. It made him smile to remember their first meeting. Elizabeth had outmanoeuvred her, and his aunt had not even realised it.
A knock sounded, startling Darcy out of his concentration. “Come in!”
“Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth appeared from behind the door, and he instantly stood, nearly upending the chair. He was surprised at how elated he was to see her. She was quickly becoming one of his favourite people with whom to converse. “Elizabeth, do come in. I hope your lesson with my aunt was not too painful?”
“On the contrary, it provided me with many insights,” she said. “Your aunt does indeed have a wealth of experience.”
Darcy let out a relieved sigh. “I am glad to hear it. I have been waiting to ask you about it with no small amount of anticipation. You will go on with the lessons, then?”
“Oh, undoubtedly. She was very helpful. I think there is a lot I can glean from her.”
Darcy found that difficult to believe, though he did not choose to speak his doubts directly. “You are sure you are entirely well?” he probed.
“Yes, quite well,” she replied. “Well, I shall let you return to your letters. I can see you have a great deal to accomplish.” She turned to leave, but he called her back.
“Just a moment — I was wondering if you would like to accompany me on a small outing this afternoon? I would like to show you one of my favourite parts of the grounds. I believe you will enjoy it as much as I do.”
“Oh, and what is that?”
“It is a surprise. We shall have to ride there, as it is too far to walk and there is no pathway wide enough to bring the carriage.”
Elizabeth’s face instantly fell. “Oh, riding? I am very sorry to admit it, but I cannot ride.”
To his surprise, she seemed more distressed than the simple confession of ignorance could account for.
Darcy stepped closer to her, wanting to comfort her.
“There is no need to be upset. That can easily be remedied.” Still, she would not look up at him.
“Truly, you need not worry. I would be very happy to teach you.”
She stared at the ground, at her hands, and even at the surrounding shelves of books, but would not meet his gaze.
“It is not that. I — I am dreadfully afraid of horses.” She paused and finally met his eyes.
“I was thrown from the horse when I was young and just learning how to ride. Likely I ought to have got back on, but I never did.”
Darcy nodded. “And that is why you are so fond of walking, I presume?”
She gave a sheepish nod. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”
Darcy took her hand. “I am not disappointed, Elizabeth. It is understandable that you would be afraid after such an encounter. Riding horses should not be rushed. Nor should the danger they present be taken lightly.”
She nodded, but said nothing. Darcy felt his heart wring in his chest to see her look so frail.
Someday, he would teach his wife that she could trust him with her vulnerabilities. Nor did he want her to remain stuck in the past. If he could, he would help her overcome her childhood fears.
Darcy drew in a deep, quiet breath. “Would you be willing to learn to ride someday?”
She was quiet for a long while before she finally answered him. “I will try to learn again. If you really wish me to.”
“I would like you to learn to ride, if you are agreeable.” He was astonished that she had not refused him outright. He smiled down at her, his heart blooming suddenly with affection. It meant the world to him that she would overcome a fear for his sake.
“Very well,” she agreed after a moment’s pause. “I shall have to order a riding habit and boots, though. I have nothing suitable as it is.”
“Very good. I shall call for the local seamstress tomorrow and have her attend you,” he said. “You will look very becoming in a riding habit, I think.” He surprised himself with his compliment. And judging by the deep blush rising on Elizabeth’s cheeks, he had surprised her as well.
“You are too kind, sir,” she responded, her voice a little uneven.
“I am not saying that only to appease you into learning to ride,” Darcy said, attempting a light jest.
She gave him a smile in response, making his heart sing in his chest. “I did not think you would, sir. I will let you get back to your correspondence.” And with that, she hurried out of the study before he could say anything else.
Despite the best of intentions, Darcy remained unable to focus on his correspondence after their conversation.
What he had said was only too true; she would look very well in a riding habit.
And he had every confidence that she would enjoy riding.
He would help make the experience utterly different from the disaster of her childhood. He would make sure of it.
He sat down, leaning away from the desk, and rubbed his chin. “Am I falling in love with my accidental wife?” Darcy mused aloud.
Hearing the words ring in his ears jolted him as if out of a stupor.
Darcy had been so fixated on his shortcomings, all the things he should have done to prevent his hastily patched-up marriage, that he had not considered the possibility that it could be a blessing.
Darcy had already seen many amiable qualities in Elizabeth, and he suspected would continue to discover more as time went on.
He stood up and began to pace. “I suppose there are worse things than falling in love with one’s wife,” he said, and allowed a small smile to tug at his lips.
Suddenly, he turned and went to the desk, writing a brief note to the local seamstress, requesting her to attend to his wife at her earliest convenience. He wanted Elizabeth fitted with her new riding habit as soon as possible.
Darcy was about to leave the study when a footman met him at the door, hand frozen mid-knock. “Oh, sir, I beg your pardon.” He lowered his hand and cleared his throat. “A letter has just arrived for you.”
He held out a silver tray with a letter. “Ah, it is from my cousin. Thank you,” Darcy said, taking it. He placed the note on the tray. “I should like this brought to the village today.”
The footman assured him it would be done, then turned to leave. Darcy opened the letter, eager to hear from Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Dear Darcy,
What a discovery to make on my first day of leave in London — to learn that you are wed!
My dear fellow, I am so pleased to hear it, but I was surprised to find that you had only known the young lady sennight before marrying her.
I hardly know what to say. I am sure she is the picture of loveliness, and from a well-to-do family.
Mother says she is one of five daughters.
You will certainly have your fill of female company now, I dare say, which has been sorely lacking since the Incident.
Speaking of which, I have been spending a great deal of thought on our poor Georgiana — and on her blackguard husband.
From what the lawyers have relayed, he was none too pleased to find that he could not get his hands on the bulk of Georgiana’s fortune, but would have to settle for his small monthly allotment.
Is it wrong that this news has caused me no little joy?
I can only imagine the shock and rage on his face.
Perhaps he will work himself into such a frenzy that he will do us the favour of having an apoplectic fit.
I have not seen her yet. With luck, I will find a time when Wickham is not at home, so I might visit her and see how she fares.
I will write as soon as I know more, and hope to visit you at Pemberley at your and your wife’s earliest convenience.
(How strange and wonderful it is to write those words!
I truly hope you have found happiness after all that you have endured this year.)
Yours faithfully,
R. Fitzwilliam
Darcy folded the letter and tucked it into the breast pocket of his jacket.
Sighing heavily, he opened the drawer where he had started and discarded his numerous attempts to write to Georgiana himself.
How many others had he tossed into the fire?
Too many to count. He shut the drawer with a loud thud and walked away.
Darcy had only just started to find some respite from his guilt and dread.
Elizabeth inspired peace and ease, but she could not erase the pain roiling under the surface.
This letter had brought it all back to the forefront of his mind.