Chapter 19
When they arrived at Darcy House, Jane and Elizabeth were shown into a back parlor they hadn’t seen the day before.
The windows gave a lovely view of the garden and the room was papered in a warm green pattern.
Mr. Darcy and his sister were standing in the middle of the room, a soft smile on his face while hers was turned to the floor.
“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, welcome.”
Elizabeth walked to him and took his outstretched hands, allowing him to kiss her hand before speaking.
“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Darcy.”
He nodded and reintroduced them to Georgiana and promptly called for tea. The four sat and Mr. Darcy engaged Jane in conversation. Elizabeth understood he was giving her an opportunity to converse with his sister and gave the younger woman her attention.
Miss Darcy was tall, taller even than Lydia, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth, again reminding her of her youngest sister who was also on a larger scale than she.
Not that Elizabeth was delicate. That word would better describe Mary or Kitty, but she was slender and only an average height, without any of the pleasant plumpness that characterized her friend Charlotte or her youngest sister.
Jane was of a similar build, though ever so slightly softer, likely due to the differences in their activity levels.
It had always been a point of frustration and hilarity that her mother would go on and on about how graceful Jane’s figure was and how beautifully all her clothes fit her when Elizabeth’s figure was incredibly similar and she received nothing but criticism from her mother.
Miss Darcy was exceedingly shy and Elizabeth couldn’t help but compare the stories Mr. Wickham had told her to the reality before her.
What a fool I was to listen to that man!
They spoke of the activities available in town and Miss Darcy said how she longed to return to Pemberley.
Slowly and with great patience, Elizabeth drew the younger woman out by asking her to tell her about Pemberley and her favorite parts of the estate.
Unsurprisingly, she loved the music room best and a sitting room that had belonged to her mother and that her brother had recently had redone specifically for her.
Mr. Darcy suggested another tour of the house, this one more intimate than the one the day before.
They had remained in the public rooms with Mrs. Bennet.
She had asked so many questions about the furnishings and fabrics and whether any of the art was by well-known artists that they hadn’t had time to tour the entire house.
Mr. Darcy took Elizabeth’s arm and Jane fell back with Georgiana, easily setting Miss Darcy at ease with her gentle nature.
After looking at Miss Darcy’s personal sitting room at the back of the house and Mr. Darcy’s study near the library, Darcy led them to the master’s chambers.
He showed them the sitting room at the end of the hallway that connected to his room first. Georgiana became engrossed in telling Jane the family history of a painting on the far wall and Darcy took the opportunity to speak privately with Elizabeth.
“This is part of my private apartment, but I thought we could use it more as our personal sitting room.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I have my study for business and personal use, and of course my chamber if I want to be alone, and there are a number of drawing rooms for entertaining, though if I want to meet with a friend we usually meet at the club.”
“So you have rarely used this room at all?” she asked.
“Correct. I had hoped, though, that we might make it our shared retreat. We will often have guests staying with us, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Bingley are both frequent visitors, and of course Georgiana, and I thought it might be nice to have somewhere to relax without intrusion,” he said somewhat tentatively.
“It sounds like a charming idea. If the room isn’t needed for something else, it seems like a perfectly reasonable extravagance.”
He smiled and turned her to the left. “That door leads to my bedchamber. There is also a door in the main corridor that we passed on the way in. Your room is directly across the hall. I took the liberty of having a door to the sitting room installed so that we might both have easy access to it.”
He almost hadn’t told her that he had installed the door himself and let her think that it had always been there, but something in him needed her to know that he had put it there—that he expected to use it, and her to as well, enough to make it worth having done.
She flushed and smiled nervously, then looked around. “And where is the mistress’s chamber? Through there?” She pointed to a door.
“Yes. I hope you will like it. The décor is rather outmoded but of course you may change anything you like.” He led her into the room. “I had a few things rearranged last month in anticipation of your arrival. I hope it is to your liking.”
Elizabeth looked around silently, taking in the grandeur of the furnishings and the room itself.
It was easily the size of Longbourn’s drawing room and featured ornate furniture and rich draperies.
Overall, it was more suited to a woman of fashion than to a country girl, but she found much to be admired in the room.
She smiled slightly when she thought how Caroline Bingley would have loved this room and how she would have had the whole thing covered in silk within a week.
“What do you think?” asked Darcy.
“Oh, forgive me, sir, I was daydreaming.” She smiled and walked to the window to see what sort of view she would have.
“There is another set of apartments if you do not like this one. They are not as large, but one does have a nice view of the garden.”
“Don’t be silly, these rooms are lovely.” She spun to face him. “I can imagine it in a nice, soft blue paper. It will be very peaceful.”
He sighed in relief. Recognizing his nervousness, she walked over to him and reached up to kiss him on the cheek.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“For being such a sweet man.”
He raised a brow in question.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said teasingly. “It is much better to be a sweet man than a rascal and you know it. I am glad you care for my comfort. It bodes well for the future.”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I care about everything to do with you.”
Jane and Georgiana joined them and they spoke of wall colors and drapery patterns until Darcy asked if she would like to meet the potential lady’s maids. They went downstairs to Georgiana’s sitting room and soon the two young women were introduced by the housekeeper.
After greeting them both and asking some preliminary questions, Elizabeth asked if she could speak to each woman alone and Darcy offered his study for the interviews.
Lorraine Smith was a temporary maid who had sought out her own training to be a lady’s maid.
She was born and raised in London, had a very keen eye for fashion, and was clearly eager to help her mistress make a splash on the social scene.
Elizabeth liked her and thought she would likely be very good at her job, and she was well qualified, but she thought Lorraine might be unhappy with the quieter life she envisioned them leading in Derbyshire and the subdued wardrobe and hairstyles she preferred.
Elizabeth asked her about this and was surprised to find that she had actually spent several summers at Pemberley as a child.
Her aunt and uncle were tenants there and her parents had sent her to stay with them on more than one occasion.
She had fond memories of the estate and enjoyed country pursuits but found that town was where more work was to be found, so town was where she stayed.
Elizabeth thought there might be something of a kindred spirit in Miss Smith, and if they wouldn’t clash too much on clothing choices, she would make a good maid.
Molly Sanders was twenty-four and worked in the London house.
She had acted as Miss Darcy’s maid when the regular maid had a family emergency, and she was intelligent and personable.
She had been shadowing the same maid off and on for the last several months and hoped to find a suitable position soon.
She had spent her childhood at Pemberley but had moved to London to work in the town house after her father died.
She still had family in Derbyshire and looked forward to returning.
Miss Sanders was very sweet and had a motherly quality about her.
She reminded Elizabeth strongly of her sister Jane, and that made her wonder if she would be the best fit.
Elizabeth was looking for more than just someone to fix her hair and maintain her wardrobe—she was also looking for a friend.
She would be all alone in Derbyshire and her maid would be on intimate terms with her; it was imperative they get along and she knew that lifelong friendships of a sort often developed.
Or at least they did with those women she knew treated their maids well.
She doubted Lady Catherine’s maid felt like a friend.
Elizabeth told both women that she had been very impressed by their knowledge and would take the afternoon to think about it and send them notice tomorrow.
“Did you choose one?” asked Darcy as he walked into the study. Elizabeth sat in a chair near the empty fireplace, staring at a globe on a stand next to her.
“Hmm? Oh, I want to think about it for the day. I’ll send them a note tomorrow.”
He nodded. “You seem far away. What are you thinking of?”
“It’s all very strange, isn’t it?” she touched the globe and spun it slightly beneath her fingers.
“What is?”
“This. Us. This house. Me choosing a maid. Just two months ago I had no notion of choosing my own maid, or of even ever seeing the inside of your house. And now we are to be married! It’s just a bit strange, that’s all,” she said quietly.
“Did you truly have no notion of seeing the inside of my house?”
“None whatsoever.” She smiled, and then her expression turned a bit sad. “I was woefully blind, I’m afraid. I had no idea you even cared about me. In fact, I thought you disliked me thoroughly!”
“What?” he cried. “How could you think such a thing? After all the attention I paid you.” He’d known she was a little surprised, but to be completely unaware? It seemed fantastical to him.
She shrugged. “You were quiet and grave and did not smile or flirt with me. You stared and scowled and generally behaved as if I were in your way.” She sighed. “No matter. I did not know you then as I know you now.”
He walked toward her slowly and sat in the chair beside hers, reaching out to take her hand and rub his thumb over her knuckles.
“And do you know me now?” he asked quietly.
“As well as can be expected in the circumstances, I think,” she said to the floor.
“Elizabeth,” he said awkwardly. She raised her eyes to his.
“Do you, are you, are you comfortable with the idea of marrying me?” He had wanted to ask the question for some time but had always found a reason not to.
It was not like him to avoid introspection, but when it came to his bride’s feelings about their marriage and about himself especially, he often found it better to not think on it too much.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Yes?”
“Yes, I’m quite comfortable.”
He raised a brow in disbelief and confusion.
She continued, “I will admit that I wasn’t in the beginning. You know I was not expecting your addresses. But I am quite comfortable now.”
“You are?”
“Yes, I am! Now do stop trying to cry off! I am marrying you!” she cried playfully, repeating his words from their walk on the beach the week before.
He raised her hand to his lips and led her back to their sisters, and not a moment too soon.
Elizabeth had meant it when she said she was comfortable, for she was.
She’d had time to consider and become accustomed to his presence and she was now comfortable with the idea of their marriage.
Beyond that, she couldn’t say. And she would really rather he not ask.
Comfortable. Elizabeth had said she was comfortable with him. With the idea of their marriage.
Comfortable. Hmpf.
It was a perfectly innocent word, but not the one he would use to describe his feelings about his impending marriage. No, he would use elated, excited, joyful, pleased to an immense degree, eager, happy.
And yet, she did not seem any of those things.
He knew her feelings were not equal to his; her father had warned him of it the night he sought her hand.
In many ways it was to be expected. They hadn’t spent as much time together as he would like and she was very young.
He had a moment of regret that he had not properly courted her, in Hertfordshire or in Kent.
Of course, at Netherfield he had been fighting his feelings and thought they were conquerable.
By the time he realized they weren’t, he was under his aunt’s watchful eye.
He could never court a woman that wasn’t his cousin at Rosings.
But still. Had he pushed to marry too soon?
Should he have spent more time in Margate?
The few days he had spent with her had changed her demeanor around him immensely.
Unless he was vastly mistaken, she enjoyed his kisses and his embrace, and both boded well for the future.
She teased him and smiled at him and seemed to trust him.
What was he so unhappy about? Was a content bride not a good thing?
A good thing, yes, but perhaps not enough.
Not for him. He had thought all he needed to do to gain her affection was ask for her hand.
No woman would refuse him. Now, oddly, he found himself dissatisfied with what he had always expected.
He was immensely happy with Elizabeth herself, but alone in his room, surrounded by darkness, he could admit that he wanted more than Elizabeth in his home and in his bed.
He wanted more than to make her a Darcy and make children with her.
He wanted more than her at his side and across his table.
He wanted her heart.
He wanted her to love him as he did her. To burn for him, yearn for him, long to be in his presence as he longed to be in hers.
Was such a thing even possible? Did women ever feel that way for men? He had never seen it. Could Elizabeth ever feel that way about him? Could he inspire such a fierce devotion in her?
He was terribly afraid he could not.