Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
The grandeur of Pemberley was astonishing. It was fitted up with a degree of taste and magnificence seldom met with. The view from every window was truly delightful. The grounds were beautiful, and the hothouses and walks and gardens were proof that no expense had been spared. Elizabeth often took a ramble over the grounds, sometimes alone or with Charlotte or Georgiana, and when she returned to the house, there were servants to meet her every need.
It was a stark contrast to life in Spain after the battle. She now had food whenever she wanted, and she knew she would sleep safely every night.
“I will grow quite spoilt here,” Elizabeth said to Charlotte with her feet propped on a stool, “with every gratification of luxury and the indulgence of ease.”
Charlotte smiled over the rim of her teacup. “Everyone loves to care for a woman in a delicate condition.”
She and Charlotte had already passed a fortnight at Pemberley. She spent her days listening to Georgiana sing and play, walking the park, writing to Jane, getting to know Mrs Annesley, and talking with Charlotte. It was a welcome respite after her tumultuous survival in Spain and return to England .
Darcy had been a less frequent companion since they came down, often with business to take him from the house or some friend to claim him for dinner.
She felt the slight that they could not include her in the neighbourhood’s society, but there was nothing she could do about it. Mourning a husband meant her isolation, as though all the world was afraid she might sob at a mention of him. It was foolish. Why force a woman to be all alone for a year after her husband died? That was when she needed society most. But at least she had Charlotte, and Georgiana and Mrs Annesley were welcoming new friends.
“I have seen little of our host as of late,” Charlotte said as she set her cup aside and took up her work.
“He has much to occupy him now that he is home.”
Elizabeth felt the loss of Darcy’s company more than she wanted to admit. Some days they only saw one another at breakfast or in passing while he was entering the stables and she was walking the grounds. Although she would never submit to marriage and the control of another man again, Darcy still held some special allure for her.
It was not as though he was the life and soul of every company he joined. But his steadiness had a calming effect on her, and talking with him brought her a contentment that had been missing for a long time. Fitzwilliam had said that his cousin had a proud man’s contempt for others, but that Darcy actually had real superiority so he forgave him for it. He had a good heart, her husband asserted, if only he would show it more often.
From what she had seen, Darcy had no undue pride. He even gave what she said a patient hearing before sharing his opinion. Had Fitzwilliam not understood his cousin’s character, or had Darcy changed after he died?
She never saw Darcy try to awe anyone into reverence, and he was not vain. His benevolence was not a guise to feed his vanity. He did not desire to be admired. Darcy had the confidence to not need anyone else to validate him .
And when she was with him, it was easier to forget all that she had to be afraid of.
Once she and Charlotte had decided to stay at Pemberley through the autumn, she had asked Darcy not to mention Lord Milton’s threat. How could she prepare for her child with that danger always on her mind? She could not wish to have a daughter in order to keep Lord Milton from taking her child. She could only hope for her child to survive and focus her thoughts on having a healthy baby.
With any luck, Darcy would find her late husband’s will. She had told Darcy the names of his commanding officer and his nearest friends, hoping one of them might have been witness to his last will and testament and have a copy, or even the original.
“I was uncertain how much you could like Mr Darcy after the way his family treated you,” Charlotte said.
Elizabeth turned away to hide the blush she felt and reached for her book. She liked Darcy too much. She feared that her partiality in his favour could strengthen into regard. And no good could come of that. “I do like him, and I could not hold his family against him. Although he is reticent at first, he is clever and kind. I sense that anyone thoroughly acquainted with him must respect him.”
“I had thought that you might see more of one another at Pemberley, especially with his sister also at home.”
“The great landowner must have much to do, if his housekeeper’s word is to be believed. According to Mrs Reynolds, he is perfection itself and the estate would crumble without him.” She looked round the parlour that Darcy had insisted be set aside for her use. “Pemberley is not a bad place to spend my confinement,” she said, relaxing into her chair. “It is safe, quiet, beautiful.”
“It is not a bad place to find a second husband, either.”
“Charlotte!”
“Widows remarry quickly when children are involved, as do widowers in a similar situation. No one would even fault you if you did not wait a year. It is already clear who is the child’s father, after all.”
“I am only four months a widow. ”
“You were not even married for two,” Charlotte said with a firm look. “Are you afraid to marry again? Was your first husband not as pleasant as he seemed?”
“No, he was charming and gentle,” she cried. “He was pleasant, so much so that sometimes I wanted more thoughtful conversations, or more conversations at all.” Lizzy Bennet had been too trusting about what life and marriage were really about, especially under the strain of war. Elizabeth Fitzwilliam knew far more about men and the world. Wives were subservient and rarely taken care of by their supposedly superior husbands. “I was a helpmate in Spain, and his mind was often elsewhere. It was the war, of course. Had we settled into a proper domestic life, it would have been different.”
“A second marriage would be different.”
She threw down her book. “You really think Darcy brought me here because he wants to make me his wife?” A hot flush burst across her skin at the thought, although nothing could convince her it was true. “He is simply honourable and generous.” She felt a connexion between them, something more lasting than shared grief, but nothing that made her think a proposal was possible, let alone imminent.
Besides, there was no need to open herself to that vulnerability again.
“Eliza, a husband would solve your problems,” Charlotte said in a tone that implied she thought she was stupid, “and I will tell you that until you see the wisdom of it. However, I don’t think Mr Darcy is considering asking you to marry him?—”
“Thank you.”
“—but it is up to you to convince him he wants to.”
“Could you talk to me about anything other than him?” Elizabeth scarcely contained her patience. “Anything at all? No? Then why do I not read to you while you work? Because I am not discussing marrying Darcy.”
Charlotte opened her mouth, but there was a knock on the door and Darcy entered, still dressed in his evening clothes from dining with whatever neighbour had invited him tonight. Elizabeth and Charlotte shared a look, fearful of having been overheard, and Darcy hovered in indecision by the door. “Am I interrupting? I understood you sat here in the evenings and…I have seen little of you these past two weeks.”
Elizabeth wished she could show how glad she was to see him, but that would only fuel Charlotte’s presumptions. She smiled as calmly as she could and gestured to a chair.
“My sister says that the four of you are often together in the drawing room after dinner,” he said as he sat, “but by the time I returned, no one was there.”
“Your sister is weary of me by the end of the day,” she said in a teasing voice. Darcy’s expression turned so perplexed she had to laugh. “She would never say so, of course! But we pass much of the day together, and I think by the time we have tea and coffee, she has run out of things to say.”
Darcy relaxed into his chair. “She is shy. I am not surprised she wishes to be on her own. However, that is not the makings of an excellent hostess.”
“We do not mind, do we, Charlotte?” Her friend agreed and then busied herself with her work. “Mrs Annesley does not seem to mind either. So when Georgiana tires and Mrs Annesley says good night by nine, Charlotte and I come to this parlour to talk a little longer.”
“You can always find Eliza here at this time of day,” Charlotte added. “She was just saying how little she has seen of you since we came down.”
Darcy fixed his eyes on her, so she could not shoot a glare at Charlotte. “I am sorry for neglecting you. I have had to reacquaint myself with all of my neighbours, and then meet with my tenants. My steward claims much of my time during the day as well.”
“There is much business to attend to when the master is down for the summer months.”
“But I am not too busy to write to Fitzwilliam’s fellow officers about his will,” he said pointedly. “It is hard to know exactly where the regiment is now. He was in the Foot Guard’s second battalion, but some men are still in Spain, and some are back in England.”
“I am trying not to worry myself over it. It will take months, especially considering how slow the post could be from Spain. I must find other ways to occupy my mind.”
She had mourning her dead husband, her pregnancy, Milton’s threats to take her son, and her growing attraction to a man she would never keep even if he admired her to distract her. She simply had to get through one day at a time. Although Pemberley was safe and beautiful, although she was amongst friends, she was still surviving day by day like in Spain.
“I am sorry your mourning leaves you so often alone,” he said kindly. “I ought not to accept so many invitations, especially since whom I invite in return cannot welcome you into their homes while you wear black.” He gave her a thoughtful look and leant forward. “Is it frustrating for you? Fitzwilliam said how much you enjoyed meeting new people and studying their natures.”
“I am just as happy to study the characters of the people here at Pemberley.”
Charlotte caught her attention by rising and saying, “She can use this time to make out your character, Mr Darcy, because I am going to bed.”
It was more well-mannered than her mother would have been, but she saw Charlotte’s hint even if Darcy did not. Darcy put his hands on the chair arms as though to rise.
“You are welcome to stay,” she said, holding out a hand. “I am not tired yet.”
Charlotte was behind Darcy by the door, so he could not see her triumphant look. “In fact,” Charlotte added, “I often tire by now, and Miss Darcy has retired to her own rooms by this hour. Perhaps you might make it a point to visit with Eliza every evening?”
Darcy had turned to look at Charlotte while she spoke, but he now looked back at her to measure her feelings. “I would be glad to, but I do not want to impose on your privacy.”
When the door shut behind Charlotte, she said, “I am not so alone, you know. Charlotte would have you believe I talk to no one for hours at a time when, in actuality, my days are full of friendship. I have Georgiana, Charlotte, and Mrs Annesley for company, but I would not mind spending time with you in the evenings.”
Elizabeth cringed to herself. That sounded more awkward and desperate than she intended, but Darcy looked impassive, so perhaps he thought nothing of it. “Still,” she added quickly, “your sister seems comfortable here. She is talking a little more with me.”
“You and Mrs Annesley are good for her. She even shared an opinion with me yesterday when I noticed she had taken a liking to a sitting room on the other side of the house.” It was clear he was proud of his sister. “I thought to have it fitted up in a more modern style for her, but she had to tell me her preferences.”
“What a worldly woman she will be.” She laughed.
Darcy shook his head, although he still smiled fondly. “I have friends who tell me she is already worldly and fashionable.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Have they not met her?”
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no. They flatter her to gain my notice.”
“Ah, so these friends are single ladies who want your attention?”
He looked away and spoke carefully. “I often hear my sister’s worldliness praised in the hope of it turning my head. I long to agree and say with all the sarcasm in my heart, ‘Yes, Georgiana has been in the world. She passed four years at one of the first boarding schools in London, once spent a fortnight at Bath with her aunt, and might even pass a summer at the seaside.’”
“Yes, a more worldly, painfully timid fifteen-year-old has never been seen.” As they both chuckled, she wondered how many women were always speaking and looking and thinking for his approbation alone. “I may not have known you long, but I can say with certainty that such behaviour would be disgusting to you.”
“The worst offender is your sister-in-law, whom you have not yet met.” He looked a little embarrassed by his admission. “So when you meet Caroline Bingley, I hope you will not share my true opinion. Her brother is too good a friend to lose by insulting his sister. Although,” he added, “Bingley would probably agree with me.”
“Jane mentioned her in her letters, but she is evasive about Miss Bingley’s character, which tells me enough. If there was much good in her, Jane would have written pages on the subject.”
“She can be amusing when she wishes to be, but on the whole I find a meanness in the arts ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. But your husband charged me with being more patient with people in his absence, so in his honour I must endure her better than I did before.”
So Darcy had taken pains to change his manner after his cousin died. She longed to tell him she admired him for it, but it might embarrass him to be reminded of his former faults.
She noted some differences between her late husband and his cousin. Darcy was different at Pemberley from how he was in town. He smiled and talked more here, whereas Fitzwilliam had been more at ease in a crowded ballroom. Darcy was comfortable with who he was, whereas her husband had not been as self-confident. But her husband could talk to anyone on any subject, and she sensed Darcy would not be nearly as open. With Fitzwilliam, most of their talk had been play quarrelling. She sensed with Darcy that he was not accustomed to being teased.
But he was at ease with her enough to share his opinion on women like Caroline Bingley.
“You are free to not approve of Miss Bingley in my presence,” she said in a conspiratorial voice. “It is plain you dislike her, but why are you not married to some other lady? You have wealth to marry on, a house to bring your bride to, and are passably handsome.”
Darcy inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking into her eyes the entire time. Her heart pounded recklessly, and a pleasurable shiver ran over her.
Was she flirting? Pregnant widows did not flirt. And certainly not when nothing good came from putting oneself under the power of a man, even if he was as good-hearted as this one or as good-natured as her first husband.
Fitzwilliam had been a man of warm feelings, an easy temper, and careless habits. Darcy seemed haughty and was fastidious, but she thought his manners were more inviting now that she knew him better. And he was kind and inclined to listen as much as he was to talk. But he was still a man, and would still expect a deferential wife rather than an equal union.
After a stretch of silence, he answered, “Perhaps I have a long list of requirements and have not yet found a woman who could meet them.”
Darcy sporting back with her was utterly charming. “You must tell me what you expect of your bride. Presumably, officious attention is not required?”
“All the typical requirements: a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages. Suitable connexions to people of rank, and a fortune of her own. And in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, I expect only what the fashionable world would deem exquisite.” His gaze dropped to the forgotten book on her lap. “And an educated mind would not be amiss.”
She suspected the last comment might actually be close to the truth. “It is dreadful that you should require so many ingredients in the receipt of matrimony. It is fortunate your cousin was not so particular. Otherwise, I would not be here expecting his child.”
She had much to mourn, but so much also to be grateful for.
“In truth, love and friendship are a firmer foundation, in my mind,” Darcy said earnestly, “something beyond mere loyalty or duty. Connexions and fortune have their place, but I could not marry without affection.”
“Neither would I, and however strained our marriage was while on campaign, your cousin and I loved one another.”
Whatever affectionate match Darcy wanted and no matter what Charlotte said, he did not want a pregnant widow with only sixty pounds a year. Not that she would risk her future by trusting another man and marrying again. Hopefully, Darcy would not find a wife before the year was out. A new bride would certainly not want a pregnant cousin by marriage in her new home.
“How did you meet?” he asked, leaning forward a little. “He only ever said he had met the girl he was going to marry at a ball, and that he would not wait until he came back from the war to do it.”
“We passed one another in a set and exchanged a few words. I cannot even remember now what they were. While we waited at the bottom, he and I spoke more to one another than we did with our respective partners. I did not stop smiling the entire time. Before he led his partner away, he professed not to be able to exist without frequently conversing with me. I never had such a handsome thing said of me,” she said, blushing at the memory. “He was the most amiable man I ever saw, but I never expected to see him again. But he learnt my uncle’s name and presented himself in Gracechurch Street the next day.”
“It is impossible after having had the pleasure of seeing you once not to wish for an opportunity of being better acquainted with you.”
Was there any feeling behind this? He looked a little embarrassed, but was that because he had spoken more openly than was typical for him, or because there was some fondness for her behind it? She liked the warm look in his eyes when he talked to her more than was wise.
“That is gallant of you to say,” she whispered.
“It is the truth. You bewitched him.”
Looking back, she realised she had, and Fitzwilliam’s preference and her attraction had made love so charmingly easy to get swept up in. She felt much older now than she had been in January.
How na?ve Lizzy Bennet had been about the power men had over their wives. Her husband had even been a good man, and look where he had left her. She loved him, and he loved her, but had marrying him been a sensible choice?
“Do you think he married me because he was returning to Spain and wanted to secure some comfort for himself?” The look on Darcy’s face betrayed him. “You do. You think he would never have married someone like me had he not had the fear that he might die.”
“That does not mean he did not love you, or that you did not make one another happy,” he said firmly.
“I wish our short time together had been under better circumstances. Once we left Portsmouth, things were…altered between us. ”
“You were in a garrison under siege, and he was there to do a dangerous job. Do not fault yourselves for being under a strain. He died knowing he was loved. I take comfort in that, even if his parents are too blind to see that.”
“And he died spared of the knowledge that all his fortune was gone. He died knowing his child would survive him, and that must have been a comfort.”
Darcy looked as though he wanted to ask a question, so she waited quietly. Her husband would have filled the silence, but Darcy was comfortable with it. She found she did not mind the silence either.
“What comforts did you have after he died?” he finally asked.
“None at all,” she whispered. “Until now.” She briefly considered telling him about the battle’s aftermath and what she had experienced, but nothing good could come of remembering that. “I can be at ease here, as much as one can be at ease five months pregnant and broke.”
She gave him a smile, but he did not meet it with one of his own.
Darcy rose and offered his hand. She stood to take it, hoping she could shift her weight and rise so easily in the next few months as he bowed over her hand. “I want you to always be at ease here, and I hope in time you are so much at ease that you can talk about what happened in Spain.” He pressed a quick kiss to her hand. “Good night, Elizabeth.”