Chapter 40 #2
“We are delighted for you, Darcy. It is about time you had some good fortune. Your marriage will surprise people, of course, and some will be immoveable in their contempt, but society in general is not as shallow as Lady Catherine believes. Nobody cares anymore that Mrs Prestbury was an actress before she married, do they? You never hear of anybody slighting Lady Aubrey, despite her uncle owning a string of abattoirs. It is the shock of the thing that will cause a stir. Once that dies down, and the world sees what a treasure you have in Elizabeth, it will all be forgot.”
“You think Elizabeth is a treasure?” It filled Darcy with pride to hear her say it, though it seemed a hasty turnabout from the uncertainty Elizabeth claimed to have perceived in her the previous day.
“She is a charming creature. Quite lively, I will not deny, but that is a good thing in this modern world. We all need shaking up a bit, I think.”
“Thank you. I welcome your support, though I confess, I am curious what Elizabeth has said to you that has made your mind up so decidedly.”
“It is not what she has said to me , dear boy. It is the change she has wrought in you . Your uncle and I could never disapprove of anyone who made you this happy.”
Perhaps understanding that he knew not how to respond, Lady Matlock chose that moment to indicate to Georgiana and Elizabeth that they ought to withdraw.
“Nay, I say we do not separate this evening,” Fitzwilliam objected.
“You can say what you like, boy, I want my port,” Lord Matlock replied stoutly.
“Bring it with you. My cousins are all off home tomorrow. Let us enjoy the evening together.”
Lord Matlock grumbled a bit more but levered himself to his feet with his cane and limped out of the room, shaking his head as he went.
“Come, Mother,” Fitzwilliam said, taking Lady Matlock’s arm. “Do not look so concerned. Father will survive the indignity.”
Lady Matlock continued to fret but submitted to being led into the drawing room while she did so. The others followed behind.
“I cannot remember the last time I had such a pleasant day,” Georgiana said to Darcy.
“How is that for gratitude?” Fitzwilliam said over his shoulder. “That is the last time I take you to London!”
“He is teasing,” Darcy said quickly, knowing she would baulk otherwise. “It has been a most agreeable day. I suggest you make the most of it. Things are not quite so peaceful at Pemberley.”
“Is it truly that bad?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“But Lizzy has found a new housekeeper. She must be helping to settle the household, at least.”
Darcy considered how to phrase his response.
“What is that face for?” Fitzwilliam enquired, dropping onto the sofa.
“He does not approve of my choice of housekeeper,” Elizabeth answered, lowering herself more demurely to sit next to him.
“That is not true,” Darcy objected. “But you do seem to spend an inordinate amount of time with her.”
“She has only just begun.”
“My mother never needed to spend as much time with Mrs Reynolds.”
Fitzwilliam snorted. “How old were you when Mrs Reynolds began working at Pemberley—three? Four? What can you truly recall from that long ago beyond how your nursemaid conducted herself?”
“I was seven when she was made housekeeper. I recall plenty.”
“Your mother might not have spent much time with Mrs Reynolds, but you certainly did.”
Darcy looked at his uncle in surprise. Lord Matlock had not seemed to be paying attention to the conversation, occupied as he was with the footman pouring him a glass of port.
The footman departed, and his lordship met Darcy’s eye.
“You were forever pestering her. For food, mostly, since you were too terrified of the cook to ask for it yourself.”
“Lady Anne’s cook was terrifying,” Fitzwilliam said, feigning a shiver. “I do remember though, Darcy, you could always persuade Mrs Reynolds to give us biscuits.”
“It was not biscuits that had you in the servants’ quarters all the time,” Lady Matlock interposed. “It was the kitten you rescued from the stables, which your mother forbade you from having in the house. Mrs Reynolds let you keep it in her sitting room until it recovered.”
“Upon my word, I had forgotten all about Dung!” Fitzwilliam exclaimed.
“Dung?” Elizabeth said, laughing.
“Darcy called it that because it is what everybody thought it was—a little brown thing lying in the straw. It was only when it started mewling that anyone noticed it.”
Darcy realised he was grinning. Then a more recent memory assailed him: the same woman who had let him look after a kitten in her sitting room when he was nine, scheming, twenty years later, to separate him forever from Elizabeth.
It was a betrayal that was in no way compatible with happy reminiscences, and he wished everyone would stop talking about her.
He turned to Georgiana and asked her if she would play for them.
She did, as did Elizabeth and Lady Matlock, more than successfully salvaging his contentment.
It was raining heavily by the time they retired. While Elizabeth clambered into bed, stubbornly refusing to relinquish the blanket in which she had once again wrapped herself, he walked to the window. “Shall I open it so we can listen to the rain?”
“Do not dare! It is cold enough in here already.”
He shrugged and removed his banyan. “It is not that cold.”
“Well, I am!”
“I cannot stoke the fire much more without risking burning the house down.” An alarming thought occurred to him as he climbed into bed, and he leant over Elizabeth, trying to make out her complexion in the gloom. “You are not ill, are you?”
“No, I am not ill. Your uncle’s house is just freezing. What a relief we are going home tomorrow!”
That caught him by surprise. “Even with the state Pemberley is in? With all that noise?”
“I have quite missed the sound of people shovelling rubble. It is so quiet here. Your aunt and uncle have been exceptionally welcoming, but Branxcombe is…pardon me if I sound ungrateful, but it is a little staid. I have had a lovely time, but I miss Pemberley dreadfully.”
“I was worried you had decided you hated it.”
“How could anyone hate Pemberley?”
“At present? I could think of a few who might. It is not the house it once was.”
“Fitzwilliam, I do not love it because it is a fine house. I love it because it is inviting, and comfortable—and warm . I love it because of what it means to you, and what you have made of it. I love it because it is yours.”
Darcy ought to be used to the strength of his feelings for Elizabeth by now, but there were occasions when the power of his sentiments still took him by surprise. It was a moment before he was able to respond, and even then, he managed to say only, “Ours.”
She understood. No more words were said, but they neither of them left the other in any doubt of their affection.
The journey home, which Darcy had worried would be fraught with the disinclination to return to chaos, was instead a happy blur of anticipation.
Elizabeth and Georgiana chatted merrily about all they had done these past few weeks, and all that they planned to do together now they were reunited.
Darcy listened contentedly and even dozed for a short while.
They might all have felt a greater measure of trepidation had they known what they were travelling towards. Matthis opened the door to them, and with a look that robbed Darcy of all his good cheer.
“What is it?”
“Lady Catherine is here, sir. She is waiting for you in the saloon.”