Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Mr Darcy keeps a fine carriage,” Charlotte said while running her hand over the seat.
The carriage could convey four comfortably, although Mr Darcy rode alongside it and his servant sat on the seat at the back. Elizabeth could hear them talk occasionally as they rode along, although she only discerned the tone of their friendly chat rather than any words. The coach certainly conveyed the wealth of its owner without being ostentatious. “It is handsome.”
Mr Darcy seemed to live as any young man of fortune ought to, with a house in town, superior horses, and a stately coach, but appeared to have no love of finery. He bought what he could afford, but he did not make a parade of it.
“I thought your sister Lydia would cry in envy when she saw it drive up to the house.”
“They were not tears of grief that her sister was leaving home so soon,” Elizabeth said wryly.
It disappointed her family at first that she was leaving after only spending a few days with them, but her mother soon came to like the idea. Mrs Bennet was determined her daughter would find another husband as quickly as she had found her first one, and going to town with her wealthy in-laws would further that cause. Her father thought it right that her husband’s relations provide for her and teased that it pleased him to be relieved of the burden of her care.
“But by all means,” he had said, laughing, as he handed her into the carriage, “return to Longbourn to have your child if you must.”
She questioned the sincerity of their grief, and of their comprehension of hers. They could not even affect a semblance of understanding of her loss and what she had endured in Spain. They had never even asked about it. She was not ready to live amongst them, not when they wanted her wed or had so little care for her feelings.
A respite from them would be good for her spirits.
“They will see me again before they can miss me. I have every intention of returning within a fortnight.” It would not take longer than that to settle matters with Lord Milton. Mr Darcy would press him to provide her with an annuity and to see that he had no interest in suing for custody of her child.
“A fortnight?” cried Charlotte. “You ought to prevail upon your husband’s relations’ hospitality for as long as possible.”
“Why would I do that, after how horribly they have treated me?”
“You need a man to rely on, and Mr Darcy, at least, has treated you kindly.”
Elizabeth sighed at the necessity of it and at all the unjustness of a widowed woman not having a natural legal right to custody of her own child. “I only need a man to assist me in recovering any property I can lay claim to and to help me keep my child with me. Hopefully, that can be done quickly because I do not enjoy being a burden on Mr Darcy.”
“I do not think he would see it that way,” Charlotte murmured, looking at Mr Darcy as he gained on the carriage while it drove up a hill. He glanced into the window as he did, touching his hat as he passed. Charlotte lowered the window and called out, “Have we much farther to go?”
“Another four miles or so.” He ducked his head to have a better view inside. “How are you, Mrs Fitzwilliam? Do you need to stop before we get to town? ”
“You should show me the same notice as any of your other friends,” she said with an arch look. “My delicate condition does not make me less able to sit in a comfortable carriage.”
She had expected him to grow embarrassed at this direct mention of her pregnancy, but he only smiled. “I would be as considerate to any of my friends, I assure you.”
“So if I wished to stop and stretch my legs, with only four miles left until your front door, you would be an indulgent friend and inconvenience yourself?”
“I would call myself your particular friend,” he corrected, “not an indulgent one. Besides, did you not say to me on your wedding day that we should be excellent friends?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Call out if you wish to stop. Your servant, madam.” He touched his hat and rode on.
She felt her cheeks heat at his notice. For him to be so considerate placed Mr Darcy in an amiable light. His forthright disposition was also an attractive trait. For a man so reserved, he had a surprisingly affectionate heart.
Elizabeth realised she had been watching his striking figure through the window and quickly turned her head.
She supposed Charlotte was right that Mr Darcy did not see her as a burden, but he thought he owed a duty to her and to her husband’s memory. Once her situation was settled, she would have no reason to see Mr Darcy again. A disappointed feeling settled in her mind, but she pushed it away. She was used to almost daily disappointments now, in how she had to live after her husband had died and how she must survive now.
One kindness from Mr Darcy did not mean that she could rely too much on him.
“What an opportunity, Eliza,” Charlotte said, craning her neck a bit to watch Mr Darcy move ahead of the carriage.
It took her a moment to realise what Charlotte meant. “Are you hoping to secure him for yourself?” she asked, surprised.
“Oh no! I have no claim to Mr Darcy, but you do.” Charlotte raised the side glass before continuing. “He is showing you great notice. And he is single, handsome, and rich.”
Elizabeth scoffed at the idea of marrying Mr Darcy. “While I am widowed, pregnant, and poor. You have more appeal than a woman in a delicate condition with no money.”
“Mr Darcy has no need of money, and if any man would not mind raising Colonel Fitzwilliam’s child, it would be his cousin and closest friend.”
“I have to worry about a roof over my head rather than loving a new husband.”
“A new husband would give you that roof over your head, and love is not a requirement.”
Leave it to Charlotte to strike at the heart of a matter, but considering no one’s feelings. “Seeing as how a single man has no say in the matter and he must want to be married, let us settle Mr Darcy’s fate between us. You may have Mr Darcy, and I will settle for the next rich, handsome man to come along.”
Charlotte gave a disapproving shake of her head, but let the matter drop. Their feelings toward men and matrimony would never coincide. Her friend did, however, want an establishment of her own.
“Is that why you came with me?” Elizabeth asked. “To find a husband?”
“I admit to needing a little relief from home. I have no prospects there, and travelling with you might help me. But you are my friend and have lost your husband. You need me, my dear Eliza.”
“I do,” she agreed warmly.
“I am glad to keep you company at such a time. But now I see that I also have to help you see the opportunities in front of you.”
“I have learnt to look after myself,” she said, calling to mind life in Spain after her husband died.
“You are a woman; you should not need to look after yourself. And since you are widowed, either your husband’s father, brother, or cousin should pay for your maintenance and manage your affairs,” Charlotte said. “And then you should marry again as soon as you are able. ”
Elizabeth leant to the side to peer out the window. Mr Darcy said something to the coachman and then picked up his pace. They were nearly to town; Mr Darcy had decided to ride ahead. Would he be the sort of husband to leave his affairs sadly involved, leave his widow destitute and without the ability to raise their child? He seemed a cautious and considerate man. She was fortunate to have found such a friend, and one who felt some obligation to aid her.
She grieved for her husband. She had loved him—still loved him—and she also resented him for investing his money poorly and for not leaving a will. He had not even listened when she suggested they vary his investments. It was infuriating. Women were not allowed to manage affairs for themselves, and her husband had not provided for her.
And then she felt guilty for resenting a man who loved her and who died tragically.
The last thing her conflicted feelings needed now was to look for a new husband when she knew she could never trust one again. Besides, what man would be brave enough to take on her sorrow and her unborn child?
She and Charlotte fell quiet as they entered London. Rather than go to Cheapside like when she last came to town to stay with her aunt and uncle, now she headed west. Mr Darcy kept a house in Charles Street off Berkeley Square. It was not as large as Lord Fitzwilliam’s house in Grosvenor Square, where she had met Fitzwilliam’s parents, but at least she could be assured in this house no one would scream at her for ensnaring Lady Fitzwilliam’s youngest son.
When the carriage stopped and the steps folded down, Elizabeth saw Mr Darcy come through the door and direct the servants. He then held out his hand and helped Charlotte down. He reached back to aid her, and when their hands touched, her heart beat a little quick. She still felt the warm pressure of his fingers after he let go.
“You are both very welcome,” he said after clearing his throat and gesturing toward the house. “I will bring my sister home tomorrow. She is eager to meet you, Mrs Fitzwilliam.”
She would not hold Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam’s cruelty against Mr Darcy or his young sister. “I will be glad to know her,” she said, still a little breathless after he had touched her hand.
As they removed their hats and gloves in the hall, footmen brought in the trunks and boxes. Mr Darcy noted which room belonged to which guest and watched their things be carried up the stairs. He then turned to her. “You have brought little with you. I had assumed you had more than what you carried to Longbourn yourself that day.”
She suppressed the desire to scream in frustration. “I had to sell all my belongings to survive in Spain until a troop transport ship could return me to England. Did you know widows have no right to army housing or rations, Mr Darcy?”
He stared at her. The silence stretched, and Elizabeth felt shame for her outburst creeping into her cheeks.
“I meant no insult, madam. I said that to transition to the idea that perhaps you might like to shop while you are in London, and to say how much Georgiana would enjoy your company.”
He bowed and entered the library off the hall.
After the door closed behind him, Charlotte stared at her with a frown.
“I know,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I will apologise.”
Charlotte was still shaking her head disapprovingly as she climbed the stairs. Elizabeth had not meant to lose her patience with Mr Darcy, and the last thing she wanted to do was offend not only the one friend who had stood by her deceased husband, but the person who now wished to aid her.
Where had that burst of temper come from?
She opened the door to see a well-appointed library open to a large dining room of nearly the same size. Mr Darcy stood by the front window, arms crossed, overseeing the unloading of the carriage. Elizabeth shut the door behind her, but although she saw his shoulders and head shift at the sound, he still did not turn.
Elizabeth came up next to him at the window just as they led away the now-empty carriage. Now there was nothing to see, but he stayed where he was.
“I am exceedingly sorry,” he said, still looking out the window .
“You?” she cried. “You are not the one who did anything wrong. I am the one who lashed out needlessly. I am sorry for what I said. Nothing about what happened in Cádiz was your fault.”
Mr Darcy turned to meet her eye. “I did not intend to tire your patience.”
She shook her head and laid a consoling hand on his arm. His gaze flitted to it, but he did not flinch or pull away. “Your meaning was good. I am not sure why I said what I said.” She moved away from him to pace the room. “I am…lost. I am not who I once was.” Miss Lizzy Bennet was gone, and she had hardly any time to know who Mrs Fitzwilliam was. “Four months ago, I never would have lost my temper like that, or spoken so rudely to a respectable man even if he had said something foolish—which you did not.”
“You are generous in absolving me, but your husband would be disappointed in me. He always had a gentler way with people than I do.”
He was quiet for a moment, as though lost in some remembrance. “I never say much for the first quarter of an hour in which I see people for the first time,” he went on. “But since he has been dead, I have tried to act as he would have. I have an obstinate disposition, and I do not take the time to show patience to those outside of my circle. I am trying to do better, but I did poorly just now.”
“My lashing out had nothing to do with what you said. You have been gracious and generous. He would be proud of you.”
“Of me?” he cried in surprise. “What of you?” He came near and gave her a knowing look. “Although you do not speak of it, I suspect any man who knew what you endured in Spain after his death would overflow with admiration for you. Fitzwilliam would be prouder of you than of me just for acting as I should have all along.”
She would not cry; she had already spent enough tears. Blinking her eyes, she whispered, “Or would it sadden him that I suffered so much, and mostly due to lack of funds and friends to help me?”
To her surprise, his countenance fell, and a deep pain took its place. “I did not know you were trapped there and unable to come home. Lord Fitzwilliam never said?— ”
She held up a hand, and he seemed to know she did not blame him.
“I lived in the garrison at Cádiz the same as always for about a week after Barrosa,” she said haltingly. She had thought of that horrid time often, but never said the words aloud. “It was all chaos and disorder, but once the casualty list was confirmed, I had to remove myself from our billet. I had little money.”
“You sent him home, though. Did his parents pay for that?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “His fellow officers auctioned his things so I could pay for it. I thought his parents would then send for me. Even if they hated me, I thought since I was…”
“In a delicate condition?” Mr Darcy eventually supplied.
She blew out a breath. Why did it feel like so many things had to remain unsaid? “Can we not say the word? I know one does not speak it aloud in polite company, but goodness, the euphemisms are tiresome.”
She watched his face to see if he would recoil at her forwardness, but he surprised her. “You assumed since you were…pregnant with their grandchild that they would support you and aid you in coming home?”
She gave a sad little laugh. “It was easier to send his body home than it was to get myself on a ship to England.”
He seemed at a loss for what to say. This was not a surprise for a man who was reserved, who only in his late twenties was putting in the effort to engage more with strangers, which was what she was to him. They may have decided to be friends, but they hardly knew each other, and all this talk about Spain would make even her closest friends uncomfortable.
“I wish I could go out and stretch my legs,” she said, looking out the window. It then occurred to her that she could. She was a widow, not a single woman. She ought to bring a friend or a footman, but she could go anywhere she liked in London now. “We are just off Berkeley Square? I think I will go for a short walk.”
“Should you be walking?” he asked.
She turned back at the door. “Because I am pregnant? ”
He nodded, looking uncomfortable, and she wondered if it was because of the word or the fear that he had offended her again.
“I crossed a battlefield to find—” She would not lose her patience again, and she would not tell that story. “I marched in a wagon train from Cádiz to the coast to get on a ship to bring me home. Did you know no one can ride in an army wagon, certainly not a widow who does not even get rations? I can handle a stroll in the square.”
“Mrs Fitzwilliam, I suspect you can handle anything.”
He went to a table and picked up his discarded hat and gloves, and gestured to the door, indicating that he would walk with her. She found she did not mind the idea of his company. It must be after such isolation that she not only tolerated a friendly presence, but wanted it.
“Georgiana will come to stay tomorrow,” he said as they went down Charles Street toward the square, “and I suspect she will want to go shopping before I find a companion for her. If you will go with her, you can replace whatever was lost in Spain.”
Lost. What a pleasant euphemism for “sold in desperation.” But she would not lash out at him again. It was not his fault for not knowing. “I would be glad to accompany Miss Darcy, and I can always be relied upon to give my opinion when it comes to spending other people’s money for them, but I am not in a position to replace my own things.”
“What young lady goes to town with her father’s blessing without him also sending along money for her to spend?” he asked sceptically.
“My father gave me five pounds, but you see, that is all I have in the world.” At his stricken look, she strove to be arch. “Besides, my quarterly payment for my widow’s pension will be little more than that. I had best learn to economise.” There was no way she could spend on anything but necessities. Tea and paper for letter writing would take precedence over gowns and bonnets.
Anger at her husband for leaving her in this situation mingled with her grief at losing him.
“If you would be so good as to spare me from accompanying my sister to the shops, I will pay for whatever you need.”
She did not think she was a woman with undue pride, but how could she take more from him? “I am already accepting your hospitality and your help with Lord Milton. I cannot also accept your charity.”
“You do not know how long at a purchase Georgiana is. Time stops when she is deciding between a blue or a green ribbon. I beg you, take her shopping, and as a recompense for the hours you will waste with her indecisiveness, buy yourself whatever you need.”
“I cannot rely on you,” she whispered. The only person she could rely on was herself.
“Pay me back, if you insist on it. After Milton grants you an annuity or gives you a few thousand pounds to make you go away, you will be able to spend freely. But you will have to insist on repayment because I will never ask for it.”
Elizabeth felt herself wavering. Her face must have shown it because he added, “If you have any charitable feelings in your heart toward me, you will take my money and accompany Georgiana. I assure you, I make out better in this arrangement than you do.”
She laughed. He was direct, and not lively like her husband was, but Mr Darcy had his own wry humour. She found herself liking him even more. “I agree to your terms. But if Miss Darcy truly takes a long time to decide, I will have more time to spend more of your money.”
“Do not underestimate how much I value not having to spend four hours on Bond Street.”
They walked around Berkeley Square in silence, with Mr Darcy occasionally touching his hat to a passing rider or strolling group. When they turned the corner to face Charles Street, about to return to his house, he said, “You know that, when you are ready, I would like to know what happened to Fitzwilliam, but I also want to hear what happened to you .”
What was it about this man’s kindness that nearly moved her to tears? Her mother had hinted her emotions would be in a whirl because of the baby. That must be it.
“I do not want to talk about it.” No one at home had invited her to speak about the battle, or its aftermath, not even Jane. She had held on to that pain too dearly and for too long to share with anyone now .
“Perhaps someday,” he added gently. “Do you want to go back or walk around the square once more?”
He was giving her the chance to part from him if she wanted it. “I am not struggling with the early symptoms any longer, and I still have my usual energy. We can even walk a little faster.”
Mr Darcy clasped his hands behind his back and pushed out his elbow for her to take his arm. “Set our pace, Mrs Fitzwilliam.”
He was silent again. Her husband would have talked the entire walk, and she would have met him in the same spirited manner. There was nothing unpleasant about Mr Darcy’s silences, but she was soon ready for a little conversation.
“This is a more enjoyable stroll than walking the ramparts in Portsmouth,” she said by way of a beginning. “Have you ever been?”
He shook his head. “Did you enjoy your time in Portsmouth together? It was only a week or so if I recall.”
“Everything there supplied amusement to my mind, and he was full of frolic and jokes.” After a pause, she asked, “Was he always so lighthearted?”
“Oh, often. He would joke when you would least expect it.” Mr Darcy laughed at some memory. “Or rather, when I least expected it and he knew it was most needed.”
“I had wished for higher-tiered conversations sometimes, but being deployed in a garrison under siege, facing an impending battle, would make one long for light topics.”
“He could talk on serious subjects,” Mr Darcy insisted. “Indeed, he had strong opinions and did not hesitate to share them.”
“Just not with me, or at least not at that time. He was so agreeable; he drew everyone to him,” she remembered with a fond smile.
Mr Darcy turned to look into her face. “You wanted someone to challenge you? Argue with you? You wanted to likewise have your opinion heard?”
He asked directly, with no tone of dismay or surprise, but what dependent woman would admit to wishing she had argued more with her dead husband? “I did not aim to be disagreeable,” she insisted. “Sometimes, I just wanted something more. Something deeper. Army life impeded our courtship; we were still coming to know one another. It was better for us to keep things light and bright. I understood,” she added before Mr Darcy could think she was a strange creature.
“You will enjoy your fortnight at my table, madam.”
“I likely will, but why are you certain?”
“I should hate to fight out of personal malice or revenge, but I have no objection to fighting for amusement and glory.”
She laughed again, thinking that she would enjoy this time after all. “I will do my best to argue you out of your most firmly held opinions, then.”