Chapter 8
It was still snowing when she woke. Elizabeth wondered if this was usual for Derbyshire. But there seemed to be brightness behind it as if the sun was trying to peek through, and she sat up, feeling happier than she had for many months.
The previous evening spent in the library had been a joy, and the little pile of books on her desk were a reminder of the laughter and conversation with her husband. With William.
She jumped out of bed and crossed the room to the books, smiling at their dark green morocco bindings gleaming softly in the early daylight.
She ran her fingers over the even rows of gold on their spines, recalling that he had told her it was his favoured form of binding, and his man in Derby would bind the books he purchased which were in temporary boards, or any of the older books which needed rebinding.
But she had enjoyed the variety in appearance of the books in the library, the older books had bindings of every type and hue. It spoke well of him, she thought, that he valued older things and would not force a certain style on books that did not need it just because he could.
Emily appeared with her tea and toast, and Elizabeth enjoyed a few moments with the books before hurrying her maid to prepare her for the day.
She knew a moment’s disquiet that the weather was still too inclement to walk out safely, she was certainly feeling the lack of fresh air.
She shook her head, her situation was so much more positive than it had been only the day before, and she would not let any melancholy dampen her current cheerful state.
She descended the stairs, quietly humming a carol, and was joined by William. Perhaps he had waited until she left her chambers and, at that thought, her heart filled with hope that finally — finally they could move past these early months and make a contented life together.
“I thank you for the loan of the books, William,” she said as he pulled out a chair for her in the breakfast room.
“I am afraid I had rather a late night as I began Gulliver’s Travels and could hardly persuade myself to put it aside to sleep.
” She shivered with happiness. “And then to wake this morning and see so many waiting for me. I am afraid you may find me inattentive to my duties for a while.”
His chuckle was warm and deep and chocolatey as she had noted before, and she allowed herself to enjoy the feelings it engendered.
He had collected a plate of food and placed it in front of her and she waited until he had collected his own breakfast. They enjoyed a desultory conversation before both looked up as the butler entered the room, a silver salver in his hand.
“Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Darcy,” he intoned. “A rider has just arrived, with some difficulty. I believe there is several days’ post as well as the express.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jones.” Darcy nodded at him and riffled through the letters.
“Mostly business, I am afraid.” He put the express beside his plate, handed one letter to Elizabeth, and put the rest aside.
She glanced at the express letter. The direction was written in an educated male hand, the paper of fine quality. It was likely family. “I hope it is not bad news,” she ventured.
He frowned slightly. “It is from my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He currently has oversight of my sister who is with his parents.” He glanced at her. “Would you be greatly offended if I just glance at it to ensure there is nothing urgent requiring early attention?”
“Not at all.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I will read my letter to give you a semblance of privacy.” She wasn’t that excited about it, the letter was from the modiste in Derby.
She was right, and she nodded at the footman for another cup of tea, and waited.
Finally William put the letter down on the table. “Nothing of note. He merely paid for the express so the post riders would take it seriously.”
Elizabeth laughed. “And my letter was definitely not urgent. My riding habit will be sent in about ten days time.”
He nodded. “Is your current one warm enough? If not you must not risk going out until the new one is here.”
She smiled over the rim of her teacup at him. “I have no riding habit, sir. In fact, I cannot ride. But you mentioned that your sister likes to ride out so I felt I should learn, which is why I have sent for a habit to be made.”
He looked at her with consternation. “You cannot ride?” Then he looked suspicious. “I will arrange a very quiet horse for you to learn, and a good side-saddle. I must insist you allow me to accompany you when you are learning.”
He must have seen her mulish expression, for he raised his eyebrow at her. “Were you intending not to tell me until you were accomplished, Elizabeth?”
“You have discovered me, sir!” She laughed. “But I will abide by your instructions, if you insist.”
“I do.” He glanced up at the door.
“Ah, Mr. Jones is waiting. It must mean my steward has arrived.” He placed his napkin on the table. “Please excuse me, Elizabeth. I will look forward to seeing you later.”
She rose to her feet and dipped him the slightest curtsy. “I hope your business goes well.”
As he left the room, she turned to gather the letters before the table was cleared. The letter from William’s cousin was lying open and she could not fail to see what was written.
… handled the Bennet business …
Her heart froze. She must move before the servants saw her reading his post. She gathered everything up and crossed the hall to the library. It would be empty; William would be in his estate office while he met Mr. Reed.
She felt sick to her core, but it was impossible to fold the letter, to ignore what it said. She must know what was being said. Did it mean William had merely acted for himself, for his pride?
I am afraid the Meryton affair is still the subject of some gossip, given you had been so sought after in town.
But Father is pleased you acted so swiftly and the way you handled the Bennet business, although he is still not reconciled to such a niece, I am afraid.
But I hope things are easier between you.
It will be more comfortable for you, if so.
Elizabeth touched the words. Bennet business. Was that really all she was? A problem to be solved?
She folded the sheets carefully, placing the letter down on top of the others as if it were made of the most fragile glass.
Her heart was cold, her mind empty. She must go up to her chamber. She must think. As she passed the bookshelves on her way to the door, she ran her fingers along the spines of the books. Now she knew she would never truly belong in this room.
In her chambers, she paced around the room, the books on her table mocking the feeling of belonging she’d had the previous afternoon.
How little time it had taken to all blow away like sand in the wind.
Or snow in the gale, she thought as she looked out of her windows at the increasing wind and snow flurries.
She sank into the armchair by the window. How she wished she could dress in her warm but shabby clothes fromLongbourn, could tramp up to the heavy woodland, rather better sheltered from storms, but still feel replenished by the bracing winds and weather.
But, no. She was here, taken to this place of propriety, of detached behaviour and hiding all one’s feelings. She glanced up at the clock; she had better freshen herself and do her duty. Mrs. Reynolds would be waiting for their morning meeting.
Ought she to return the books to the library, acknowledge she had no place having them up here? She huffed bleakly; if it was a gesture, he would never notice, and truthfully, she would relish reading books she did not know so well.
Finally, she only had dinner to endure before she could escape again. Mr. Darcy — she could hardly think of him as William — had returned to the house, pink-cheeked, bright-eyed and windblown.
“Good afternoon, Elizabeth. I am looking forward to perhaps reading quietly over tea after we have dined.”
She gathered her courage. “I pray you will excuse me, sir. After dinner I wish to retire. I have a headache.”
His brow furrowed as he looked at her closely. “You are pale, I hope you are not going to be ill. Perhaps you might prefer a tray in your room, and then may retire as early as you please?”
She bowed her head. “I think that would be for the best. Thank you for suggesting it.” He must feel she was merely tired, he would not have noticed that something was wrong.
Tears stung behind her eyes as she climbed the stairs, knowing he was watching her. Perhaps by tomorrow she would be able to be in his company with equanimity. For tonight, she could gather her strength and prepare herself.
Outside, the wind began to rise. In the gathering gloom, she saw the falling snow being flung against the windows. The storm matched her rising torment.