Chapter 30 #2
They left the bed as darkness was falling, ringing for food to be brought to their sitting room. Elizabeth felt embarrassed when the servants were outside of the door arranging things, but quickly discarded the feeling, not wishing any awkwardness to mar what had been a wonderful day.
She clandestinely studied Darcy as they ate. She had told him she could offer him nothing more than friendship, but now she wondered whether that were true. She already felt the ties that moored her heart giving way, and it was only the second day of their marriage.
The pleasures of the marital bed have confused your mind. Who could not feel kindly towards a man who had…exerted himself so nicely on your behalf?
She smiled as he put aside his plate. He took hers from her hands, setting it with his. For a moment, he did nothing more than simply look at her. She blushed under his intense gaze. “You discompose me, sir.”
“Not yet, but soon,” he responded with a mischievous grin. He stood and swept her into his arms, carrying her towards the bed, kissing her all the while. She gave a little, shrieking giggle and pressed her lips to his neck just before he tossed her onto the bed, jumping in after her.
At once, he was serious, his face inches from hers as he tenderly kissed her cheeks. “Do you know how much I love you? All I wish for, from now until eternity, is to have you in my arms, just this way. All else may come and go from me, and I shall be happy so long as I have you.”
“You are too good to me,” she whispered.
“Impossible.”
After the couple enjoyed a week of seclusion, duty intruded upon them. Elizabeth had calls to receive and her child to attend, and Darcy had his affairs to manage, including meeting his cousins and uncle at his club.
After Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lord Matlock departed, he remained with Saye for some time, both with their papers and tea.
“I beg your pardon, sir. Mr Darcy, is it?”
A man stood there, remarkable only in that he appeared so wholly unremarkable.
Every one of his features was of the middling variety—his height and build were average, his hair was light brown, and his eyes were brown too.
His clothing was neither unfashionable nor fashionable, and his voice was well modulated, being neither deep nor high, neither exceptionally loud nor soft.
He was a man made to blend into walls. Darcy knew they had been introduced, though he could not recall the man’s name.
Embarrassed, Darcy searched his mind as Saye looked on with a dispassionate air.
“I am Hanley. Mr James Hanley. We met at a card party earlier in the spring.”
“Oh yes.” Darcy recalled that he was a boyhood friend of the late Lord Courtenay and second son of the Baron of Walsingham. “How do you do, sir?”
“Very well, I thank you. I wish to congratulate you on your recent nuptials. Lady Courtenay—rather, Mrs Darcy—is a fine lady. My sincerest wishes for your joy.”
“Thank you.” Darcy motioned for him to be seated.
Saye leant forwards. “You were at Brower’s the other night. We shared a table, I think.”
“We did, Lord Saye.” The two gentlemen shared a brief discussion on shared acquaintances and a fondness for cards. Darcy was not interested in the conversation and hoped it might conclude shortly so he could leave for home and his wife.
Wishing to move the conversation onwards, Darcy spoke. “You were an intimate of the late Lord Courtenay, yes?”
“Yes, I am; rather, I was. I still cannot believe he is dead. I knew him from when I was only eight years old.”
“A loss deeply felt, then.”
“It is,” Hanley agreed. “I was with him when he met Mrs Darcy in Bath.”
“Yes, she gave me an account.”
“It was a happy time for Henry, and although his life was cut short, I am glad he shared the last of it with one whom he loved and who loved him in return.”
Darcy leant back, taking the measure of Hanley and trying to gauge his purpose. Quietly and confidently, he replied, “Yes, she did, and still does, love him. I would not take that from her.”
“You have a reputation as a good man,” Hanley replied. “I am pleased for her to have married a gentleman such as yourself. Neither Henry nor I would wish her to languish in suffering.”
Darcy pursed his lips, considering. “She suffered a great deal for nearly three years. No one could accuse her of marrying hastily.”
“Of course not.” Hanley gave him a bland, expressionless smile. “How is our young earl? Adjusting well to his new family circle?”
Darcy nodded slowly. “He is a fine boy.”
Hanley stood. “I shall not importune you further, sir, but please accept my best wishes, and give my regards to your wife.”
“I shall.”
When Hanley had gone, Darcy turned to his cousin, who had ostensibly paid no heed to the conversation after the talk of cards and gambling had ended. “That was odd. I felt there was something he wished to say, but I cannot tell if he said it.”
Saye lowered his paper. “He is a rather dull gentleman, so quiet and placid I would almost forget he was there as we played the other night. What do you know of him?”
“Nothing at all.”
“He was a good friend of Elizabeth’s late husband?”
“As you heard.”
Saye pursed his lips.
“What do you know? If Elizabeth remains in danger, she must know for the protection of—”
“No, nothing like that,” Saye assured him quickly. “I cannot recall what it was that I heard. He comes from a good family with a large and prosperous estate. It was nothing I am sure, some tale perhaps of trifling with this debutante or that, or a rout of some sort. Nothing of consequence.”
Darcy looked at him doubtfully. The bland pudding of a man he just saw hardly seemed the rakish sort, but then again, if his fortune was good, there were ladies who would pursue him. Miss Bingley came to mind as an immediate example.
“Are you certain?”
“Fairly so,” Saye replied, no longer interested. “I shall tell you whether I hear more, but I am sure it was nothing.”