Chapter Twenty #2
When there was danger, or a lesson of manners that must be learned for Emily to perform well in society, or when the girl acted in a spoiled and selfish manner that would make her a terror to the servants and disliked by her peers when older, Elizabeth endured her sobbing.
But pains were taken in such cases to reduce the tears. Elizabeth sought to distract Emily and generally offered her something pleasant in compensation for that which she would not get.
It was seldom necessary to physically restrain her, and on those rare occasions, Elizabeth had ample strength to hold the girl aloft until she ceased to be angry and accepted that jumping down the stairs, three at a time, was not permitted, even if she wailed and hit Mama Lizzy.
After such eruptions, the child sobbingly apologised, hugged Elizabeth, and with a glowing smile found an activity that Elizabeth did not object to.
The difficulty for Elizabeth was that she never refused Emily when it was merely a matter of inconvenience.
She seldom had the leisure while Emily was awake to reply to—or even read—letters from her family, Charlotte, and her other friends.
She had no chance to explore Darcy’s grand library, except in Emily’s presence.
The only books she read were those that Emily wanted to have read aloud, and Emily joined her in every walk Elizabeth went on.
Only in her duties as mistress did Elizabeth seize time from Emily’s desires. But even then she tried to keep the girl about while making and receiving calls, while talking about household matters with Mrs. Reynolds, and while sitting with Georgiana to talk or practise the pianoforte.
Perhaps Emily had not become truly certain that Elizabeth would never leave, for she hated to be apart from her, even preferring her strongly to her own father. When Rose bathed the girl, or read to her, or put her to bed, there was always the demand that Elizabeth be present.
This was her duty.
She must make Emily happy and be her mother, and Darcy would see that she threw herself fully into the task, leaving nothing of herself aside, and he would approve of her—she hoped.
Despite how the constant presence of a young child wore on her, caring for Emily was joyous. When the girl sighed happily and told Elizabeth, “I like being with you,” Elizabeth became warm and happy inside.
In evenings after Emily fell asleep, Elizabeth still had little leisure.
Frequently there were dinners that they held or attended, and occasionally balls where Elizabeth met her neighbours.
Darcy said that at present he gave and accepted far more invitations than was his general preference as he wished for Elizabeth to be introduced about and to become familiar with his neighbours while most everyone was at their estates for Christmas.
The nights when they retired to bed were Elizabeth’s favourite part of the day.
The marital bed brought intense pleasure, a sense of completion, of closeness, and of being approved of. And the smell, weight, and feel of Darcy’s body.
They spoke generally for half an hour or an hour afterwards, before she drifted to sleep.
It was unfortunate, Elizabeth thought, that Darcy always left her bed to sleep in his own. But she was sure that he must be more comfortable that way.
On nights when they did not have other engagements, they read to each other from Shakespeare, essays from the Spectator, or from recent novels.
Elizabeth and Georgiana played music or chess or draughts, they talked about the day, and Elizabeth encouraged Darcy to talk about the estate, about his plans, and about what he had done that day.
While Darcy was invariably silent by habit, if she made the effort to encourage him to talk about matters that he understood and cared about, he could speak at great length.
His words were always intelligent and educated.
She liked his voice, and despite his promise of disinterest in female matters, she thought that he liked to listen to her.
At least if she did not prattle too freely.
What he had said about his first wife and the things he had disliked about her was always present in Elizabeth’s mind, and she went to great efforts to try to act like the wife she believed he wanted.
It could be tiring to always remember.
After the first two weeks at Pemberley, as soon as Elizabeth no longer needed to talk constantly with Mrs. Reynolds and the other servants about everything she did not yet understand about the estate, the Christmas season and its attendant events began.
They were to hold a grand ball to formally introduce her to the neighbourhood, and the preparations for that engaged a great deal of Elizabeth’s limited free time. Every evening for a week they either attended a dinner or held one.
Darcy was kept busy during the days with hunting and shooting, and Elizabeth could see in his manners that though he enjoyed each event he was becoming tired as well.
Each night she sat up late talking to their guests, and then Emily woke her barely after the light dawned the next morning.
Elizabeth had made it clear to Rose, the day after they had arrived at Pemberley, that Emily was to be allowed to come to her rooms at any time she wished.
The girl had woken with the dawn sobbing on the first day and wanted to go to Mama Lizzy, and Rose had prevented her, saying Elizabeth ought to be allowed to wake in her own time.
Of course, Emily was wild beyond all measure about the draped greenery, the plans to collect and burn a yule log, and the general humming air of anticipation throughout the estate that accompanied the festive events at the end of the year.
Day by day Elizabeth found herself more tired, and Sarah had to go to some effort to hide the bags beneath her eyes.
Her maid had gone so far as to hint to Elizabeth that perhaps she ought to only allow Emily into her chambers after the girl had eaten her breakfast on the mornings when she was up late, but Elizabeth had clearly told Sarah that she would do nothing of the sort.
On Christmas Eve, the afternoon and evening were devoted to the great dinner and dance the family had thrown for the tenants since time immemorial.
Darcy had explained to her that the practice began when such gatherings were expected and continued even though entertaining one’s tenants in one’s own house became deeply unfashionable.
Emily woke with a blocked nose, and by noon she had a fever and a rare preference for sitting under blankets on a sofa without running about.
The girl was desperate for Elizabeth to be the one to sit with her, though Darcy was permitted to read to her once from her favourite collection of stories while she sat on Elizabeth’s lap.
Every three minutes Emily exclaimed, “Wet nose!” and she then expected Elizabeth to wipe it for her.
The suggestion that as a great big three-year-old she was capable of providing such a service to herself was rejected as utter nonsense.
“I’m a baby lion!” Emily explained. And then she gave a little roar.
It was so adorable that Elizabeth was convinced to wipe her nose for her again without complaint.
Following that, every time Elizabeth seemed to hesitate to wipe her nose, Emily immediately reminded her that she was in fact an infant member of the species that Linnaeus had classified as ‘felis leo’.
As the afternoon came, Elizabeth found herself unsure what to do.
Emily could not sleep, and she knew that the girl would be miserable if she left her to join Darcy at the dinner—would that not be just what he had complained of Mary doing?
Yet presiding over the tenants’ dinner, an event that Darcy had spoken to her of as being of great importance to him, was clearly necessary.
Elizabeth waited as long as she might by Emily’s side and brought a small armchair into her dressing room for the girl to curl up on while Sarah worked on her hair.
But when Elizabeth was ready and about to descend to the gathering that had already begun, Emily sobbed, clung to Elizabeth’s neck, and begged her not to go.
“My dear, I must. Your father expects me.”
“Stay! Stay!”
Elizabeth thought about taking Emily down with her, but given her illness she did not wish to expose the girl to the draughts and the crowd.
“I must go,” Elizabeth said.
“No! No! No! I’m ill.”
Elizabeth kissed Emily on the forehead. “Poor girl.”
“No! No! Stay! Why do you need to go? I’m a baby lion! Roar. You wouldn’t abandon a baby lion.”
Elizabeth laughed. “My dear, I must go down.”
“Nooooo! Why? Why? Why?”
For some minutes, until her arms became quite tired, Elizabeth stood there feeling unable to ask Rose to help her tear the girl from her.
She felt a sudden sense of resentment at the whole situation.
Why did she even need to attend the dinner?
Mr. Darcy should be the one to explain to Emily why Elizabeth had to go down—she was his daughter.
And Elizabeth suddenly thought about how she had not had time to write her Christmas letters to her family, how she missed them, and how she did not know whether she would ever have time to write those letters.
“No! No! I’m a baby lion!”
“You are not, Emily,” Elizabeth replied with more sharpness in her tone than she had ever used with the girl.
Emily stared at her, her face crumpled, and she sobbed big wild tears. She made a keening sound that was worse than anything Elizabeth had heard from her before.
Both Rose and Sarah were there with her, and they watched as Elizabeth held the child without moving for twenty seconds.
She needed to act as the great mistress and the exemplary mother, who always did what she ought to and who never showed any impatience or failure of conduct.
Instead, Elizabeth sat down, still holding the crying Emily, and sobbed herself.