Chapter 14 #2
As they danced, everything seemed to fade away.
Elizabeth forgot they were dancing in an empty room in broad daylight, that Lady Catherine was watching them with a critical eye.
Only Mr Darcy’s arms remained. He looked down at her with a small smile, as though he enjoyed the dance as much as she did.
Mr Darcy bent his head as though to speak into her ear —
“That will do nicely,” Lady Catherine said decisively. “Now, exchange bows.”
Feeling as though she had been abruptly awakened from a dream as confusing as it was pleasant, Elizabeth obeyed.
Though Mr Darcy’s bow was as graceful as ever, Elizabeth suspected the same could not be said of her own.
Her limbs felt as though they might float away.
Elizabeth took a step back, hoping that none of what she felt could be read on her face.
She was utterly unfamiliar with the rush of feeling.
When she had at last schooled her expression to a polite smile, Elizabeth turned to Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh. Whatever her mother might think, Mr Darcy’s cousin wore a pleased smile. “You two are the perfect pair. You will be the talk of London when you visit.”
“Yes, I suppose you danced adequately. Continue to practise, and by the Season, you will do tolerably well.” Lady Catherine rose from her chair and started out of the room. “Now, it is time for my rest. Come along, Anne.”
Miss de Bourgh cast them a reluctant glance, but there was nothing either of them could say to get Lady Catherine to change her mind.
Once she had decided on a course of action, no one could gainsay her.
In the present instance, Elizabeth had little wish to try.
Some time to herself would be very welcome.
Mr Darcy turned to her as soon as they were alone in the grand salon.
“You did very well. Do not let her words make you doubt yourself. Nothing is ever good enough for my aunt.” He turned to her and offered her his hand.
Though his intentions were unclear to her, Elizabeth hesitantly extended hers in turn.
Taking her hand, Mr Darcy led her across the grand salon, then out the double doors that led to the terrace.
She had not been on this side of the house since arriving at Pemberley, and had only peeked into the grand salon once during her explorations.
The terrace looked out over the western side of the house, toward the hills.
There was a small stone church perched on the hilltop, painted gold by the late afternoon sunshine.
She admired the view for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart.
“Will we really go to London for the Season?” Elizabeth asked at last.
Mr Darcy joined her at the railing after he had closed the doors.
He dropped his chin, then looked out over the landscape.
“I had planned to take my sister to London next year, to bring her out. I thought it was a little early, but my aunts persuaded me otherwise.” He halted, shaking his head. “All of those plans are obsolete now.”
Elizabeth reached over and touched his arm gently.
“I am sorry,” she said. He turned toward her, flexing his hand ever so slightly.
His arm muscles tensed under her hand, and she quickly took it away, unsure what it meant.
Had she offended him by such an intimate gesture? “I have never been to London.”
“It is quite different from Meryton. I cannot say I enjoy myself whenever I travel to the city, but it has its diversions, I suppose.”
“Such as?” Elizabeth asked.
“There is the theatre, of course, and fine museums. And then there are the galas and various social functions.” He met her gaze. His eyes swept over her person, then rested on her face again. She gulped.
He went on, leaning an elbow against the railing so he could face her. “I think you would enjoy the Royal Conservatory. Or Vauxhall Gardens. You seem to be more of a nature enthusiast, rather than a devotee of the theatre.”
“I do not know; I should like to go to the theatre at least once.”
“The theatre can be diverting, but I prefer the opera. It is easier to hear,” he explained.
“But there is talking all the way through, no matter whether you attend a play or an opera. It seems sometimes as though the only reason people go to the theatre is to see each other and share the latest gossip.”
That seemed very odd. “Is it not to watch the production?” she asked. “It seems a scandalous waste of time and money if one is not to enjoy the piece that the actors and singers worked so diligently to prepare for their enjoyment.”
“High society is a mass of contradictions, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. He stopped, giving her a knowing look. “That is, Elizabeth.”
She felt the heat climbing into her cheeks again whenever he looked at her.
There was something fierce about his stare, and yet gentle.
How was it that he could make her feel these things without saying a word?
“My aunt and uncle live in London,” she said, trying to change the subject to safer places.
“Indeed? I believe your father mentioned them. Mr and Mrs Gardiner, is it not?” He motioned that they should walk along the edge of the railing, and she gladly followed his lead.
“Yes. They have a house on Gracechurch Street, but I have never been to see it. They have four children, all under the age of eight. They are very dear,” she said.
“I would very much like to meet them,” Mr Darcy said.
She stopped, looking at him in surprise.
She would not have thought her husband one to express empty pleasantries he did not mean.
Quite the opposite, in fact. Elizabeth bit her lower lip, then stepped quickly to catch up with her husband, falling into stride beside him.
“My uncle is in trade,” she said slowly.
It was not a secret. He must have known that, no doubt, by his talk with her father.
Yet she still felt a twinge of embarrassment at saying the words.
She was not ashamed of her uncle. But the gulf between her relations and his still remained.
It was, perhaps, too great to expect him to bridge entirely.
Cheapside was no place for Mr Darcy, and it would surely be too much to expect him to make an appearance there.
“I am sure they would be very happy to meet us at a teahouse, or even the theatre,” Elizabeth attempted to say brightly.
“My aunt is a great supporter of the arts.”
“Either would be delightful. Or perhaps they would accept an invitation to supper at our townhouse? The children might enjoy the old nursery and schoolroom.” Mr Darcy did not seem at all as if he were only trying to appease her. He genuinely seemed to want to meet her relations.
“Truly? You would want to invite all of them?” she asked.
That he would want to invite a merchant to his home, one who lived in Cheapside, no less, was a welcome surprise.
Perhaps Mr Darcy was not so very proud as she had thought — or at least his pride was under good regulation.
“What would Lady Catherine have to say about that?”
“I am not in the habit of consulting my aunt in the question of who I invite to my own home,” Mr Darcy said dryly.
“She may think she has the right to order everyone else’s lives, but she will not do so with ours.
” He stopped when they came to the end of the railing, which turned and led down the steps into the side garden at the side of the house.
“I hope she did not upset you today with her lessons. You must know that you can quit them at any time you like, Elizabeth.”
She warmed at the sound of her name on his lips.
“No, I want to continue. I —” She faltered when she looked into his eyes.
In so strong and stern a man, the discovery of gentleness surprised her every time.
“Difficult as Lady Catherine can be, I think this is for the best. Her wisdom will be invaluable as I start my life here. And I believe she is warming to me.”
“Very well, then,” Mr Darcy said with a nod. “But let us speak of more interesting things than my obstinate relative. Is your uncle away on business much?”
“Yes, I believe he travels to the continent two or three times a year. My aunt often comes to Meryton to visit with the children when he is gone on especially long trips,” Elizabeth replied.
“However, his business is doing so well now that he can send an agent in his place most of the time. He is a brilliant businessman.”
Mr Darcy nodded. “And your aunt. Where did she hail from?”
“You will never guess, and I cannot think why I did not tell you before,” Elizabeth said with a small laugh. “Lambton, in fact! My aunt and uncle often take their holidays in this area.”
“Truly? How very interesting. I may have seen them growing up and never knew that one day I would be married to their charming niece.”
His compliment caught Elizabeth off guard.
She had not thought Mr Darcy one for idle compliments, yet here they were.
She resolved not to let his words affect her so, not when he meant them only to be polite.
“Yes, well, it is a small world, is it not? You never know how you might find a connection with someone.”
They walked down into the garden. Elizabeth shivered, feeling a little chilled by the breeze.
With the sun starting to set, she wished she had brought a shawl.
Her gown, though the most suitable one she had for a ball, was less appropriate for walking outside with winter fast approaching.
Mr Darcy seemed to sense this and quickly took off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders.
“Forgive me, I should have realised you would be cold.”
“That is quite all right. I am well,” she said and thanked him for the jacket. He clasped his hands behind his back, as though careful not to touch her.
Though, Elizabeth thought suddenly, he need not. He was her husband and had every right to touch her. Butterflies swirled in her stomach at the thought.
But that was mere foolishness. Mr Darcy had been the perfect gentleman since the first moment she had met him. Even their compromise had been purely the result of accident, not inclination. Likely, he did not even wish to do any such thing.
“Lady Catherine has spoken a great deal of your uncle, the Earl of Matlock,” Elizabeth remarked, trying to turn the conversation so she would not be preoccupied by her disturbing thoughts. “Do you see your uncle often?”
“Less so these days. I visited more often when my cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, was at home, but now he is with his regiment.”
“Do I recall correctly that your cousin is in the Regulars?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes. It suits him well, for I have never known a braver man,” he said with a proud smile. “I should very much like you to meet Lord and Lady Matlock when we visit London. They will be enchanted by you.”
“I am not sure about that, but I will certainly do my best to offer a good impression,” she said.
The thought of meeting his family could not fail to be a little daunting.
It seemed all too likely that she would not be up to their standards, as she so obviously was not up to Lady Catherine’s.
They had only too many grounds to judge her, from her lack of connections to the lack even of a governess.
Little wonder if they were displeased to find their nephew married by accident, and to a woman of so little consequence.
Mr Darcy stopped on the little winding gravel path and turned to her. He took her hands. “You will charm them, just as you have charmed me,” he said huskily. He paused, and she thought her heart might beat out of her chest.
She thought to make light of the moment, but no matter how she scrambled to find the words, none were forthcoming. He leaned forward, seemingly about to say something more.
The supper gong rang, only just audible at their distance from the house.
“We should return,” Mr Darcy said, sounding a little disappointed. “After walking back, there will be little time to prepare.”
“And it is cold besides,” Elizabeth agreed. They turned and walked briskly back to the house.
“Thank you for helping me with my lesson today,” Elizabeth said as they went inside.
Upon reentering the building, she removed Mr Darcy’s jacket from her shoulders and held it out to him.
He did not put it back on, but slid it over his arm.
To her confusion, Elizabeth found he looked more handsome than ever without it, with his shirt and cravat uncovered. More approachable, perhaps.
She cleared her throat and broke eye contact. Her thoughts were all a confusing jumble as it was, without him making her lose her head with his piercing brown eyes. “I must make haste. Your aunt will not be pleased if we keep supper waiting because of our tardiness.”
Mr Darcy chuckled. “No. Of course not.” He gave a slight bow and took her hand, surprising her again when he kissed it. “Until this evening, then.”
She nodded and started out of the room, if only to allow herself time and space to think.
She could not think clearly when he was so near.
What was the matter with her? A fortnight ago, she had been single, unattached, and happy.
Or at least, she had thought she was happy.
This new wave of sensations and feelings was so wholly foreign to her.
There was surely only one explanation for the strong admiration and regard she had come to feel for Mr Darcy, for her increasing confidence in his character and intelligence, for the way he made her heartbeat quicken. Astonishing as it was, she was falling in love with her husband.
Elizabeth drew in a deep, deliberate breath.
How had this happened? True, Mr Darcy had shown himself more than worthy of her respect.
He had done his duty in speaking for her hand and in every way leading up to their marriage.
He had proven himself to be constant and upright, a man of intelligence and character in every way.
Elizabeth had not married for love, and yet love seemed to be finding her all the same.
She would have thought she would welcome the feeling. Indeed, she would have — if only she could hope that Mr Darcy might feel the same.
He had sacrificed so much for the sake of honour, of duty. Elizabeth now knew very well what kind of woman Mr Darcy might have expected to marry. No, Mr Darcy’s wife was not intended to be a simple country girl with an ill-mannered mother and an insignificant dowry.
Mr Darcy had looked past that to do right by her, but a care for honour was not the same thing as an open heart. Mr Darcy had already offered her respect, courtesy, his name. She ought not to ask for more.
Despite how honourably he had married her, it was too much to hope for that he would come to love her.