Chapter Twelve
A servant entered the sitting room where I had Elizabeth on my lap, feeding her bites of a scone, dipped in honey. It was a week later. I had grown accustomed to touching her nearly constantly.
“Lady Matlock has come to call,” said the servant.
I stood up, bringing Elizabeth with me, depositing her on her feet.
I choked, trepidation going through me. My aunt, Lady Matlock, was the wife of my mother’s brother, the Earl of Matlock.
I had not told her I was getting married.
She was not going to be pleased. Not only because I had not shared news of my nuptials, but because of who it was I had married.
Honestly, I had been thinking about packing us back off to the country. I had thought that we might simply find somewhere to rent in the area near to Netherfield, so that I could have the company of Bingley again.
The only reason I had brought her to London at all was so that we could have privacy, really.
Well, that couldn’t have been it, not if I had truly intended not to visit her bed. But that was all a distant idea at this point, since there had been a lot of that. Bedding, that is.
“Tell her I am not at home,” I said to the servant.
Elizabeth turned on me with wide eyes, obviously surprised by that.
“All right, sir,” said the servant, bobbing her head and disappearing.
Elizabeth put a hand on my chest. “Is it your plan to simply hide me away from all of your relatives, then?”
“No,” I said, putting my hand over her hand. “No, I only…”
“You wish to give me some primer in how to behave before I meet her?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “So, that I shall not embarrass you?”
“No,” I said, clasping her hand with mine. “No.”
“Because,” she said, “I thought that was why you married me, anyway. To cause a scandal. To make sure no one was talking about anything except you and me, and they were not thinking about your sister.”
“You said that was why I married you,” I said. “I know that is not at all why I married you.” I kissed one of her fingertips.
“Fitzwilliam,” she said, looking into my eyes, and this was something that had changed in the week of our marriage. She called me by my first name, and I called her by hers, and I had the memory of her breathing out my name in the darkness, as we were entwined, our skin bare.
I might have been sort of obsessed with her, with her body, with touching her, with…
We hadn’t talked much, however.
Well, we’d talked about things like our favorite foods, and we’d gotten in a rousing argument about Moll Flanders, and we’d debated the virtues of tea versus the vice of coffee, but we hadn’t talked about important things.
We hadn’t talked about the future.
“Fitzwilliam, you cannot simply hide me away forever,” she said, searching my gaze with her own.
“No, I have no intention of hiding you away,” I said. “I have only… been preoccupied.”
She smirked at me.
I kissed her.
And the servant was back, in that moment, saying that Lady Matlock insisted upon being given entry, and I pulled away from my pretty new bride just in time to see my aunt sweeping into the room.
My aunt was a round sort of woman. The fashion these days was for empire waists, but she refused to wear them, saying that it made her belly look rounder.
However, poured into a dress that was meant to have a cinched waist, even with the help of boned undergarments, she still looked, well, round.
Some round people wear it like cheer, but my aunt managed to simply take up space in a way that was a bit intimidating.
“Not at home, my foot,” she said to me.
I didn’t say anything at all, which wasn’t to my credit.
So, Elizabeth spoke up. “Apologies, Lady Matlock. My husband has been preoccupied as of late.”
“I am very sorry about all of this,” I said, clearing my throat. “Why don’t we all sit down and I shall make introductions? My wife should not be on her ankle overmuch. It is healing.”
Lady Matlock had already seated herself, on a couch across from the both of us, and she looked up at us in anticipation, simply waiting to see what I would say.
Elizabeth sat back down and wiped an errant scone crumb from the corner of her mouth.
I gazed at her lips for too long before sitting down as well.
Then, no one said anything.
Elizabeth turned to look at me, obviously annoyed.
I tucked a finger under my cravat and tried to think of something to say.
This was perhaps what everyone did not understand about me.
Sometimes this would simply happen to me, in certain situations, where I would seemingly forget how to speak.
My mind would go blank, I would feel as if my clothes were too tight, and the room would sort of close in on me.
It happened more often around strangers, but it happened in situations like this, too, where I simply did not know what was expected of me, where there was no set script to follow.
This was why I did not like dancing with strange people at strange balls, for instance. It was physically uncomfortable.
“Forgive us, Lady Matlock,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps it falls to me to introduce myself. I am your nephew’s new wife, Mrs. Darcy.”
“I had heard rumors,” said Lady Matlock, “but I don’t think I really expected to find you here. And the ankle business is true, too.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth, “well, we did not elope… or… there was no… what rumor did you here?”
“The truth is we got stuck together in a falling-down house on the grounds of Netherfield,” I said, “and then the stairs collapsed, and then she fell out of a window—”
“Well, no, I was trying to climb down and the trellis broke,” said Elizabeth.
“Just so,” I said. “Anyway, I would never elope.”
My aunt smirked.
“All right,” I said, “getting married in the country and telling no one is perhaps the same thing, but…”
“You didn’t tell anyone?” said Elizabeth, turning on me. “I suppose I am having it illustrated that you did not tell your aunt, but I thought… not even your sister?”
I let out a breath.
“Well,” said Elizabeth, nodding, smoothing out her skirts. “I see.”
“I see as well,” said my aunt. “She is very pretty.” She looked Elizabeth over. “Well, you have gone off and married someone that no one has ever heard of, from the country, in some scandal involving her ankle.”
“I don’t think the ankle part is really the scandalous part,” I said.
“Hush, Mr. Darcy,” said my aunt. “I wish to speak to your new wife. My dear, you seem at least somewhat aware of the situation you find yourself in, and I am pleased to see it. An intelligent woman is always preferable to one who is stupid and simpering. I am pleased that my nephew has not chosen someone like that. But to be clear, you are not the sort of woman who anyone would wish to be united with my nephew. I hope my saying this isn’t coming to you as a horrible surprise. ”
“Madam,” I said, with heat. “I do not think you should speak so to my wife.”
“Hush,” she said to me again, nodding at Elizabeth.
“Not a surprise, no,” said Elizabeth.
“However,” continued Lady Matlock, “there is little to be done about it now, so we must see what we can do to salvage the situation. I have a number of questions to put to you, and we shall look at the answers when we are done and see where we need to address various shortcomings and issues, all right?” She took a small notebook out of her reticule and opened it up.
“Oh, dear, I think I need a pen.” She stood up and looked about the room until she spied an inkwell in the corner on my writing desk.
She simply stared at it, blinking, until I got up and fetched it for her.
I set the inkwell and the pen down on the table in front of her. “I should not like it if you spilled ink on this table,” I said to her.
She smirked at me.
Elizabeth fiddled with the collar of her morning dress.
I winced. Now that I thought about it, she needed new clothes. That morning dress was nearly threadbare in spots. It actually had a patch on one of the elbows. If I’d known we were going to have visitors, I would have made sure she had something else to wear.
“What is your name?” said Lady Matlock, pen at the ready.
“Elizabeth,” said my wife.
“And your maiden name?” said Lady Matlock, scratching onto the paper of her small book with the pen.
“Bennet,” said Elizabeth.
“Hmm, never heard of it,” said Lady Matlock. “That may be just fine, however. Does your father have an occupation?”
“My father is a gentleman,” said Elizabeth. “He owns Longbourn, near Meryton.”
“I see, this is not disastrous,” said Lady Matlock. “What is his income per year?”
“Madam,” I cut in. “This is hardly the sort of thing—”
“I know, it’s an impolite question, but we are all family here now, and we must get straight down to it,” said my aunt. She turned back to Elizabeth.
“Is it really necessary that you write everything down?” said Elizabeth.
“It is,” said my aunt.
“Are you planning to show it to others?” said Elizabeth.
“His income,” said my aunt.
“I do not know precisely. He does not share his books with me.”
“You have an idea.”
“Perhaps two thousand pounds a year,” said Elizabeth.
Lady Matlock nodded, scribbling. “And this is all from land, not investments?”
“Yes.”
“How many servants do you keep in the household?”
“Three,” said Elizabeth.
“Madam,” I said again. “I must insist—”
“If you keep interrupting me, Darcy, I shall spill the ink all over your table on purpose,” said my aunt. “Now, Mrs. Darcy, do you speak French?”
“A-a little,” said Elizabeth. “Not well, but I think I might carry on a conversation if someone spoke quite slowly, at least about the basics, anyway.”
My aunt scribbled.
Elizabeth ducked her face down, fidgeting even more with her collar.
“Do you draw?”
“I… no,” said Elizabeth.
“Paint?”
“Not really.”
“Play the piano?”
“A little,” said Elizabeth.
“Well, what have you been occupied with, then? Your governess must have been quite appalled at your lack of inclination for anything.”
“We never had a governess,” said Elizabeth.