Chapter 6
Elizabeth rolled over, seeing the first signs of dawn through the gap in the curtains. She smiled, happier than she had been since that assembly.
Poor Emily; she had been dismayed that Elizabeth had insisted on the curtains not being fully closed, but she loved to wake up to early sunlight.
Elizabeth sighed slightly. Sunrise was some fifteen minutes later here, so much further north than home, and the distant hills on the horizon probably did not help either.
But she regularly rose with the dawn, her unhappiness not allowing her to sleep late, and this morning, her hopes of a better day had roused her earlier still.
She wished to be ready for her tea tray when Emily arrived with it, so she rose and slipped on her robe.
She stood at the window. The storm was over, but soft snowflakes still fell, drifting down in slow spirals with the influence of the gentlest of breezes. Elizabeth was happy; the whole atmosphere was changed — even the silence seemed friendlier.
As she descended the stairs to break her fast, her husband left his chambers and joined her.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” he said, almost eagerly. “I hope you slept well.”
“Thank you, yes.” She smiled at him, and watched his face light up. Perhaps he hadn’t been sure of her, wondered that she might have thought better of her openness with him. “I am looking forward to adding more decoration to the house today.”
He nodded. “I have some business to attend to after breakfast. But after that, I would be able to assist, if you would permit?”
“Of course!” She was relieved. Christmas without guests or family offered an opportunity to become on friendly terms with her husband and she would not squander it. “I would be happy for you to join me.”
As they entered the breakfast room, he turned to her. “May I gather you a plate, Elizabeth?”
She was rather startled. “Is that what happens in a large house, sir? At … at Longbourn we all collected our own breakfast.”
“William,” he said. “You agreed to call me William.” Then he smiled. “It would be my pleasure to gather you a plate.”
“Thank you, William. Perhaps if we each collect our own today, then you will note my preferences and tomorrow I will eat whatever you select for me.” She was delighted at his slight flush as she said his name.
The atmosphere was companionable as they ate, and Elizabeth’s contentment felt more settled within her. “Tell me, do you follow the tradition of the Yule log, and if so, which fireplace is used?”
William smiled across at her. “Yes, I think it an important tradition. The log has been stored so it doesn’t burn too green, and we use the fireplace in the great hall.
” His gaze seemed to turn inwards. “My mother was the last mistress to light the Yule log, of course, and since then my father or I have had the duty. But this year, I will be delighted that there is a mistress at Pemberley to take the traditional role. Last year’s fragment has been kept safely so the fire may be lit from it. ”
Elizabeth’s heart swelled with something unnameable. Her husband believed in following the beloved traditions of the past, and she could almost smell the woodsmoke. “Is it oak?” she asked. “I love the smell of an oak fire.”
“Of course,” he answered quickly. “It is always a sorrow when a venerable oak falls in a storm, but we save the great logs to ensure the wood can continue the tradition of protecting the house at Christmas for the coming year. I prefer it to sending the timber away to build warships, even though I know of the necessity.”
“I understand,” she replied softly. “It is charming, all of it.”
Her husband was gone to his study, and Elizabeth was looking through the boxes of Christmas ribbons and other items. She was happily engaged when Mrs. Reynolds entered the room, a basket in her arms, and the scent of Christmas surrounding her.
Elizabeth scrambled to her feet. “Oh, you have made a Christmas-scented pot pourri!” She took a deep breath, transported straight back to Longbourn.
“Mrs. Darcy.” The housekeeper smiled maternally at her. “Indeed. I thought you might wish to fill the bowls and direct their placement.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth examined the basket.
Dried orange and lemon peel, broken sticks of cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg, bay leaves, juniper berries and sprigs of pine.
“You have all been working so hard.” She looked up.
“We could add pomanders for the tenant children if there are not too many. They could then be helpful after Christmas to them as well.”
She hesitated. “Perhaps we could delay filling the bowls and placing them until Mr. Darcy has finished his letters and can assist me?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Reynolds rose, smoothing her skirts. “I have also had the music sheets in the music room sorted, to ensure the carols are easily found. There is also a good fire in there, Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I will take the hint, Mrs. Reynolds, do not fear.” As she crossed the hall to the music room, she wondered at being herded through so unsubtly. She chuckled softly. I expect she is going to make some sort of effect in the drawing room and needs me out of the way!
Shaking her head at the obvious subterfuge, she sat at the grand pianoforte situated in the centre of the room. In truth, she ought to have been practicing. But she had been so anxious not to draw her husband’s disdainful attention that she had not touched the instrument since arriving.
She admired the graceful curve and shining mahogany of the Broadwood, and gently pressed a chord, the tone warm and mellow, as if it had been waiting to be played again. How could she have ignored this for so long?
Quietly she played a few scales to remind her fingers what to do, and — surprising to her — was able to ripple into a few simple memorised tunes. Then she turned to the carol sheets, and selected some of her favourite melodies.
It was some time later that she glanced up and saw William leaning against the doorway, looking at her with such an expression that her heart faltered within her. She dropped her hands from the keyboard and rose to curtsy.
“Please do not stop, Elizabeth. I am enjoying listening to you.” He crossed the room as Elizabeth seated herself back on the stool. “May I join you?”
She swallowed. Surely he would not join her on the stool? His body would press against hers, and …
But he had drawn up a chair. Close, but not too close, and she smiled, attempting not to look relieved.
“Play, Elizabeth. I enjoy listening to Christmas carols.”
She smiled weakly. “I am very out of practice, so you listen at your own peril, sir.”
“William,” he whispered, reminding her and sending heat to her cheeks.
“Sir William.” She grinned. If she teased him, he might not discern how much his proximity affected her. Although … would he understand she was teasing?
His laugh was unrestrained and she breathed out carefully. “No, really. I have never practiced as I ought, and not at all since we arrived here.”
His voice sounded pained. “Was that because of me?”
She wanted to reassure him. “Only because I did not wish to disturb you.” It wasn’t quite true; she had discovered several practice rooms on the upper floors and she could have practiced, she supposed. Now she wondered why she had not.
He dropped his head, shaking it. “I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I should have asked you your feelings, not imagined I knew them.”
Elizabeth started playing God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen softly while she spoke. “Please do not torment yourself, William. It is Christmas and a time for forgiveness. That means forgiving yourself, too.”
She looked at his bent head. “I remember past Christmases at Longbourn. My aunt and uncle bring their children now, and the new traditions we built have gradually changed to adapt to their presence. As soon as they arrive my younger sisters take them out in the gardens even if it has snowed.” She felt a little wistful.
“Papa is the wit in the family, although my mother does not quite understand him.” The nostalgia almost overwhelmed her.
His voice was low. “I remember Christmas when my mother was alive — and yesterday it was the same. Talking, excitement. After she was gone, it was never the same. I tried to have it be less serious when my sister was growing up, but Father did not enjoy Christmas, so there was little to enjoy.”
Elizabeth could hardly help herself. She touched his arm. “I am sorry for those recollections. Miss Darcy was very young when your mother passed.”
He sat up straighter. “She was. But I am confident that once you do get to meet her, she will soon be very fond of you.” He smiled fondly. “She is passionate about music and practices very constantly.”
“Then I hope she will not be disappointed in me,” Elizabeth laughed. “But I can play the lower part of duets so she may weave her magic on the main hands.”
He chuckled quietly. Elizabeth felt the warmth of it inside her. It was like a hot chocolate on a cold day and warm comforting arms round her sheltering her from the world. Her fingers tripped on the keyboard, and he reached out.
“I am distracting you.”
She nodded, and then the silence between them lengthened. Elizabeth did not know what to say next, and it was obvious that he did not, either.
She gazed out of the windows. “I think I will bring my book down to the small blue parlour. I think it will be pleasant in there.” He would know she was amenable if he wished to join her.
Almost without thinking, she continued, “I should have brought more books. I am almost at the stage of knowing what I have by heart.”
He stiffened. “My library is at your disposal, of course.” His voice was distant.
She rose to her feet and he followed suit. “Please excuse me, Mr. Darcy. I will consult with Mrs. Reynolds about the menus.”
Elizabeth had retreated to her chambers, and she sat in the window seat of her private sitting room, a tray of tea and pastries brought up by Emily. Now the door was closed and Elizabeth had the privacy to consider the morning’s events.
First, she had enjoyed William’s company at breakfast. There, they had talked of the previous day, they had exchanged reminiscences and confidences before she had gone to his study.
Then he had joined her in the music room, and talked further. She had been quite comfortable and looking forward to his company — a very new sensation.
But then she had made that silly remark about her books. It was too soon. Much too soon.
She shivered; she had certainly overstepped when she said that. And judging by his chilly demeanour and distant words, he really did not wish her in his library.
Drawing her shawl closer, she wondered how their next meeting would be. Would he be distant and withdrawn again? Would she have the opportunity to apologise to him? Oh, how stupid she had been! And they were only just beginning to be a little more easy with each other.
Her head began to ache, and she pulled the bell. When Emily returned, she asked for willow bark tea and honey. Perhaps it would ease before luncheon. She must continue on her path; this distance must not be allowed to continue.