Chapter 40
THE SOUND OF SILENCE
T he journey to Branxcombe Court took three hours, and Darcy relished every second of it. With the building work behind them, his relations not yet upon them, and Elizabeth in his arms, it was like a small holiday in itself.
He could not entirely banish his woes from his mind.
According to Jacobs’s latest reckoning, the fault in the ground did, indeed, extend beyond the east wing.
If one extrapolated its trajectory, it would pass beneath the morning room, saloon, and music room in the central section of the house, and the kitchen and stillroom in the west wing, putting them in equal danger.
It was a dismal prospect that had instilled in him a persistent sense of dread.
Their inspection of the servants’ quarters had, thankfully, revealed nothing alarming, which was just as well, for if Darcy was forced to close off any more rooms, then he, Elizabeth, and all the servants would be living together in the dining-parlour by Christmas.
“What is the matter?” Elizabeth asked softly.
“What is always the matter? But let us not speak of that now. I would give you a few days’ respite from thinking about buildings.”
She nestled more snugly against him, and he noticed she did not attempt to deny the respite was necessary.
“Would that I could have taken you abroad on a honeymoon. Or at least to the Lakes. I was cripplingly jealous when you mentioned in Kent that you were going there with your aunt and uncle.”
“And I thought you were quiet because you disapproved.”
“I did. I disapproved of anyone who was not me, taking you anywhere.”
Elizabeth was silent for a moment or two before abruptly rearranging herself with some impressively economical manoeuvres until she was sitting in his lap.
Then she slid her arms around his neck, told him she treasured the way he loved her, and kissed him—with thrilling vigour.
It was some time before Darcy recalled how near they were to Branxcombe and reluctantly disentangled himself, but it was not before he had made it abundantly clear that he was equally enamoured of the manner in which Elizabeth loved him.
“I shall take you to the Lakes one day.”
“I should like to see them.”
“And I should like the exceptionally long carriage ride to get there.” He enjoyed the look that earnt him.
It was only as he helped her down from the carriage in front of his uncle’s house that he comprehended the complete respite Elizabeth had given him from all his worries, and he knew instantly it had been entirely deliberate.
He whispered his thanks in her ear and cherished the knowing smile it induced.
The introduction to Lord and Lady Matlock went well enough.
His uncle was his usual contemplative self, and Darcy quietly assured Elizabeth not to be offended if he seemed aloof.
This amused her for some reason, though she did not elaborate as to why.
Lady Matlock’s diffidence made her equally quiet.
Linseagh had not come at all, having been detained in London, but Fitzwilliam and Georgiana welcomed Elizabeth with unaffected delight, more than making up for any perceived reticence from other quarters.
“You are happy, then,” Fitzwilliam said to him in a private moment that afternoon.
Darcy smiled slightly and nodded, but a glance at his beaming cousin cracked his usual reserve, and he could not hold back the bubble of joy that escaped him as a burst of laughter. “I am!”
“’Tis a fine thing to see. I confess there have been times this last year when I have been worried for you.”
“Not as worried as I.”
“And Elizabeth? Is she settling in at Pemberley?”
Darcy winced. “She is doing everything that could be asked of her and more, but Pemberley is in such blasted disarray. She says she is not troubled by it, but she cannot be content.”
“She does not seem particularly dis contented.”
“Because we are here, away from it all. It just feels so one-sided. I have gained all the pleasure and she has made all the sacrifice.”
“That is not quite true. You sacrificed a large fortune to marry her.”
“So I told myself once upon a time, but there was no guarantee I would have found a woman of good fortune who would have me.”
“I shall have to respectfully disagree with you on that point.”
“You cannot deny it would be even less likely now, for who would volunteer their inheritance that I might literally pour it into the ground to keep Pemberley standing? To think—I almost did not marry Elizabeth because my condition in life was superior to hers. Now she is living on a building site.” He shook his head in disgust. “Master of one of the finest houses in the county, and all I have to offer is rooms full of boxes and an abyss in lieu of a garden.”
“This might be a legitimate concern had you married almost any other woman of your acquaintance, but you and I both know, Elizabeth did not marry you for your house.”
“I know. But I dislike that I cannot give her the things a wife of mine ought to have—parties, dinners, balls. A single day that is not interrupted by some new disaster.”
Fitzwilliam chuckled and slapped him soundly on the shoulder.
“I am sure you will have the chance soon enough. In the meantime, take it from a man who has known plenty of miserable women—your wife is the very opposite of downcast. I shall not insult you by asking how you put such a magnificent smile on her face, but whatever it was, I daresay if you keep doing it, all will be perfectly well.”
Darcy had time to do no more than glare at this indelicacy before his cousin continued, “Speaking of the pleasures of marriage, Georgiana received a fair amount of interest while we were in town.”
“From whom?”
“Mostly just pups, gazing longingly across the theatre, but there were some more notable names sniffing around. Londonderry, Prinsep, the youngest Duncan-Bryre. She did not seem to notice, but I thought I should mention it, for it will not be long before we must begin to consider an alliance. And after last summer, it may be prudent not to wait too long.”
Darcy stared grimly at the carpet. Fitzwilliam and he shared the guardianship of Georgiana, but as her brother, the onus of ensuring her well-being weighed particularly heavily upon him.
“Yes, I share your enthusiasm for the matter,” Fitzwilliam went on. “Would you like to know what conclusion I have come to?”
“Go on.”
“It is that this gives us both even more reason to rejoice in your connubial bliss, for surely Elizabeth will manage this business better than you or I could ever hope to.”
Darcy brightened instantly. “That is a heartening thought. Just when I thought she could not bring me any more joy.”
“I am beginning to see your point, though. It does seem an exceedingly one-sided arrangement, this marriage of yours.”
The latter part of this exchange, which Darcy relayed to Elizabeth later that night as they sat together before the fire in their bedchamber, diverted her no end.
“This is rich! You despised my mother for her hopes of Jane marrying Bingley. Now you would have me do the same for Georgiana.”
“I take it all back. Pray do not abandon me to the task. You have seen the extent of my romantic abilities. Do not condemn my sister to the same fate.”
“That would be cruel indeed!” She nudged him affectionately, in her sweet way, and he tried to pull her closer but could scarcely get his arm around her.
“Why are you wrapped in so many blankets?” He tried to peel one back, but she fought him, laughing.
“Because I am cold—get off!”
He gave up and settled for letting her rest her head on his shoulder. He kissed her crown and asked, “What did you make of my aunt and uncle?”
“I see what you meant about Lady Matlock. She is very kind, but a little like a rabbit caught in lantern light. I was worried I would frighten her if I spoke above a whisper.”
“As long as she was kind.”
“She was certainly not un kind. I am not sure either of them knows quite what to do with me. It is as though they want to approve but think they will be in trouble if they do.” Elizabeth yawned deeply as she added, “Perhaps with Lady Catherine.”
“Enough talk,” Darcy said. He scooped Elizabeth up, blankets and all, and carried her to the bed. “You are going to sleep, Mrs Darcy.”
Elizabeth made no objection, except when he unrolled her from the blankets, but she was easily placated when he wrapped her in his arms instead.
He watched her for a long while after she fell asleep, feeling every bit of the happiness his cousin had observed in him, and praying that Elizabeth’s would last beyond their return to Pemberley.
* * *
After breakfast the following day, he and Elizabeth walked with Fitzwilliam and Georgiana into Matlock Bath.
On their return, Darcy left Elizabeth to enjoy a peaceful afternoon in the saloon with his aunt and sister while he spoke to his uncle.
It was a conversation he was obliged to grit his teeth throughout, for Lord Matlock wished to advise him about matters at Pemberley.
It was not that he did not appreciate his uncle’s concern, but such counsel as ‘do not trust architects, they are all imbeciles,’ and ‘do not be tempted to sell Pemberley at a reduced price,’ were unhelpful, to say the least.
Dinner was a more enjoyable affair. Darcy was seated next to his aunt, an arrangement they always favoured, for both were content with the other’s silence. He was surprised, therefore, when she leant to speak to him quietly.