Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
Now that he had been settled at Pemberley for a month, his neighbours’ calls and dinners had been returned, and there was no urgent business to keep him occupied all over the estate. Darcy typically had friends visit in the summer and made visits of his own, but his cousin’s death made him reluctant to make plans last spring. He had not been of a mind for company then, and so his summer would be more reclusive than he liked.
But it was for the best, since Elizabeth would be at Pemberley for the rest of the year. She could not go into the world while she was in mourning, and she had a greater claim on his companionship. One of his neighbours had asked if he resented housing a widow in a delicate condition, but Darcy owned he could not have slept at night knowing she was forsaken and unhappy.
Truly, he had trouble falling asleep with her here.
He often spent an hour or two before bed keeping company with Elizabeth. She was a charming woman, clever and sensible, and he would rather pass an evening in laughter with her, or in rational conversation or even companionable silence than with anyone else in the neighbourhood. He had never seen a more elegant or handsome woman .
Were they genuine feelings of love and esteem? Likely not; likely they were only respect and a strong sense of duty. A friendship, certainly. Besides, Elizabeth still mourned her first love. He should read nothing of romance into her smiles and attentiveness.
“Did you not care for that song?” his sister asked, causing him to start. “I can play you another of your choosing.”
Darcy forced himself back into attention. Georgiana had stopped practising and watched him fretfully. He gave her a reassuring smile. “My mind wandered, but it was not because the performance was wanting. Your music simply carried me away.”
“Lizzy said the same to me yesterday, and that she envied my facility in music. She said her hours of long practice failed to produce anything so moving,” she added shyly.
He doubted Elizabeth’s mental wanderings took the same amorous path his did. “Have you heard her play?” He wondered if Elizabeth enjoyed music, and if he would hear music at Pemberley after his sister went to Ramsgate.
“No, but she teased that she had some turn for it, but would neglect her genius now that she has heard me.” Darcy smiled at Elizabeth’s humour, and his sister looked as though she might say more. “But when we walked in Lambton yesterday, I saw her looking at music.”
“Did she purchase it?” he asked, suspecting the answer.
“No. I offered her any of my music and told her to copy what she wanted, but she admitted there was little point.”
There was no point because Elizabeth could never afford an instrument, not on a sixty-pound pension.
“I suppose she also refuses her friends’ generosity?”
Georgiana nodded. “Not even Miss Lucas may purchase anything for her.”
Darcy rose. “She will take nothing further from me, but perhaps I can convince her to establish herself in this parish and begin receiving her pension.” Everyone wanted to have money of their own, and an independent woman like Elizabeth needed it. “Will you join me? Another lady’s encouragement would help. ”
His sister looked pleased to be asked, and they went into the garden to find Elizabeth. He suspected it would take a while to find her, but soon they heard shrieks and laughter. Around a corner, in the middle of an avenue, Elizabeth and Miss Lucas were bouncing on the balls of their feet, hands clasped, and then Miss Lucas threw her arms around Elizabeth.
He and his sister shared a confused look until they were noticed. Elizabeth tried to rein in her smile, but failed miserably as happy tears fell from her eyes. “Forgive us. I will not vaunt my joy, and will try to be delicate. I have happy news, Darcy. You might not care to hear it, but Georgiana will.”
She beckoned his sister near and whispered into her ear. Georgiana grinned and said, “Oh, I am so glad!”
He was abjectly confused and did not know if he ought to leave or insist that he be told the secret. “I came out to speak with you, but I suppose I can await you in the house? But you cannot imagine I would refuse to hear any good news of yours.”
Elizabeth blushed fiercely while Miss Lucas said, “You wanted to speak with Eliza? Then Miss Darcy and I will leave you in peace.” She linked an arm through his sister’s and led her down the path toward the house.
He had wanted his sister’s help to make an awkward conversation about Elizabeth’s near poverty easier to hear. The last thing Elizabeth wanted was a man to tell her about her money, and now it would be all the worse. He already felt whatever happiness she was hiding from him hanging between them, like a cloud. She still smiled, but her eyes showed curiosity about what he was about to say.
“I did not mean to drive away the others,” he began. “I only thought, since there might be some necessities you did not find in town, or for some future need for your baby, that you ought to receive your pension.” When she said nothing, he added, “I can drive you in the curricle to speak to the magistrate to arrange everything.”
Elizabeth stood very still. “What made you think I have some unmet need? ”
“My sister said you looked at music, but that you purchased nothing.”
“The poor widow is an embarrassment to the wealthy heiress? Because she is not wasting money? Georgiana would never say such a thing.”
Her words were teasing, but there was a coldness in her tone. “The poor widow deserves to buy new stockings if she needs them.”
“You gave me money in town to buy necessities. I even had two pieces of luggage to bring to Derbyshire instead of one.”
“And,” he went on as though she had not spoken, “since you will not allow me to purchase you another thing or grant you any money on behalf of my family, you need your pension. I assume you will need…” He gestured vaguely, not wanting to say “childbed linen” aloud. “Sundry articles of quality and quantity sufficient to secure the comfort and happiness of your infant.”
She grew thoughtful and murmured, “Yes, that has become quite apparent.”
Somehow, he felt his gentle suggestion had gone all wrong. “I did not mean to insult you by mentioning it. I thought this would give you more dignity, and the money is due to you, so you might as well claim it.”
“I am not offended,” she said, sighing. “But I cannot receive a pension until I have an affidavit from the justice of the peace from wherever I settle, and I am likely to settle near Meryton next year. If I claim it now, then next spring and forever after, I would have to come to this parish every quarter to get it.”
He made his tone as stern as possible as he smiled meaningfully. “And you know no one in Derbyshire who could be your agent and send you the money? What a shame there is not a soul in this parish whom you could trust to act on your behalf. You are egregiously unconnected here, madam.”
She laughed a little, but he could feel her hesitance.
“Why are you reluctant?” he asked.
“If I accept my pension, then I really am a poor, unconnected widow.” She threw up her hands and paced around. “Which is foolish because, of course, my husband is dead. I have been a widow for months. It is not as though the pension changes anything, but it means his fortune is lost, and his family hates me so much they will not give me a hundred pounds a year to live on.”
“You deserve more dignity than a sixty-pound widow’s pension, but you ought to take what you are due, for your sake and for your child’s sake.”
He and his sister would also make a present of whatever a new baby might need, but Elizabeth did not need to know that yet.
“For my child’s sake, I will agree. Shall we go to Bakewell now and speak to the magistrate? I will run inside and get the documents.”
He agreed, but she did not walk toward the house. “Do you want to know what we were smiling about?” she asked in a soft voice. “I fear my news will embarrass you.”
“I eagerly want to know whatever has made you so happy.”
“I can feel the baby move.”
The joy in her voice was compelling, and he felt a delight in his heart that was unlike what he had felt before.
“No one else could feel it yet—Charlotte asked.” Did she think he was about to put his hand on her stomach to try for himself? He felt his cheeks turn hot at the thought. “But I feel him or her, and now that I know what that feeling is, I think they have been moving about for some time since we came to Pemberley.”
He could not jump about in glee like the ladies did, but Darcy felt his cheeks pull into a wide smile. Elizabeth beamed back at him. It was marvellous to see her so happy. “‘Congratulations’ feels like too weak a word to say in reply to such an outstanding thing. My dear, I am very glad for you!”
Elizabeth came forward quickly, and he realised at the last moment she intended to hug him. She did not catch him completely unawares, but he was still stunned as her arms went around his neck. Perhaps she did not realise how forward it was because she was overcome with joy. He must not interpret any other feeling behind it.
She pressed her cheek into his chest and held him fast. Elizabeth would have let him go by now if she was embarrassed or reluctant or thought she had made a mistake. She then tensed a little, and he tightened his arms around her so she would know he did not mind.
Instead of pulling away, she settled into him. It felt strange but also comfortable, soothing, exciting, and a slew of other emotions. “What, what does it feel like?” he asked, his voice shaking a little at feeling Elizabeth against him.
She laughed. “Little flutters, like a goldfish in a bowl swimming against the sides.” She leant back to look into his eyes, their arms still around one another. Did Elizabeth look down at his lips, or had he imagined it? “Thank you for sharing my joy.”
She stepped away, leaving him with a powerful awareness of his own heartbeat and hot skin and firing nerves.
In the end, it was a simple errand to complete, but Elizabeth still wondered at the documents involved to get sixty pounds from the government. A certificate from the regiment’s colonel to say she was the lawful wife of the deceased and that he was killed in service, and the magistrate’s attestation that she had no pension, allowance, or other provision from the government, and then a final visit to the church warden before finally going to the bank to sign still more papers.
But now she could come or send someone to this Bakewell bank in December, April, and August and receive twenty pounds at a time.
“I had not thought the payment schedule so fixed,” Darcy said as he drove them from Bakewell back to Pemberley. “You will only have the first instalment at the end of August. My sister and I will make you a gift of whatever a new baby might need. That way, the money that comes before October can be for your own use.”
“There is no need; I will be rich in August,” she said, joking. “With twenty pounds, I could rent two rooms and even afford to eat. I could afford a basket to put the baby’s things in.”
She had survived on less, and with more fear, too. She felt a strong satisfaction in how she had navigated her life alone in Spain as a widow with nothing. A little pride in that success was natural; it was what let her know she and her child could live on sixty pounds a year.
Elizabeth let her gaze fall over the Derbyshire peaks that reminded her of Barossa Ridge. She cringed at the recollection of the screams of the dying, the gushing blood and torn flesh of suffering soldiers.
“I know you do not want my help,” Darcy said, gently startling her from her memories, “or rather you hate being dependent, but try to look at it from our point of view. You have friends who care for you, and who would make a present of baby things even if you were still married and had your husband’s wealth at your disposal. Set aside your pride and let your friends spoil your baby.”
Her first instinct was to resent any help. Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, at his soft smile and handsome face. For a moment, she could imagine another life where she put her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. But she trusted before and had been unwise; love and marriage came with too much risk. Still, Darcy was a man of character and her friend, and she had to be better at accepting assistance. She no longer had only herself to think about.
“I should not have been reluctant to accept your help, or to receive my pension. I did not want to rely on anyone, and it made me foolish, and a little prideful.” She added quietly, “I just hate to be a burden.”
“I have money enough to let you live comfortably in my house for a few months.”
Darcy would offer her more if he thought she would take it, but no good could come from relying on a man more than absolutely necessary. Even though Darcy was dependable, she only had to look at her negligent father, her careless husband, and her cruel brother-in-law to know what could be lost by putting yourself under a man’s power. “But you do not help me because you are rich, but because you are a good person.”
“I can afford to help you,” he insisted as he drove. “And I am only now, after your husband’s death, trying to be a good person.”
Nothing could convince her that, whatever his manner before, he was not always a good person. “But you don’t help me because of your wealth. You are a good person because you have good principles, like kindness and compassion—and that has nothing to do with you being wealthy. That is just who you are.”
That was partially why she had hugged him when she shared her news. Darcy was a man worthy of her admiration, and when he so visibly shared her joy, throwing herself into his arms had felt like the most natural thing to do. Some unrestrainable impulse of the heart had driven her to do it, and to her great surprise, Darcy had readily returned her embrace.
She felt her cheeks heat. They had held one another longer than was fitting, even though Darcy’s arms around her were the loveliest feeling she had experienced in a long time. A part of her wanted to hold him again, and for much longer. She felt a happiness with him that she experienced nowhere else.
She cleared her throat, feeling embarrassed at how much she enjoyed being held by Darcy, and she added, “I am a little surprised you were so patient with me. I have not made it easy for you to help me. I would unhappily be in my father’s house if you had not insisted I come here.”
“I sensed it was difficult to put your faith in someone before understanding how they thought, what they valued. You did not know me at all, except by your late husband’s word. And I do not scruple to add that the men you ought to have relied on have disappointed you.”
“I have come to know you and like you,” she added, keeping her eyes firmly on the road and not on Darcy. “I can tell you are not open at the start of an acquaintance, but you are forthright, and very well judging, and caring with those you love.”
She hoped he had not heard how her voice caught on the word “love.” He showed that same affection and generosity to her, but it was foolish to think there was anything of love behind his actions. Besides, love had only left her heartbroken, penniless, and without custody of her child.
“And you are lively, commanding, and self-assured.” Her heart fluttered. “I have come to know your character well this summer. Your spirits are charming, and even more so because I know what you have lost, and even though you are grieving, you have not lost who you are.”
“What is the most important thing I ought to know about your character?” she asked, to hide her embarrassment at his compliments. “I am impatient, you know, so I would rather you just tell me to save me the trouble of making it out.”
He smiled and was silent for a moment. “Both the good and the bad? I value my family and my honour as a gentleman above all else. I am honest, to a fault. I am trying to have a more patient temper and be less selfish because that is one of the last things your husband asked of me before he died.”
She wondered if he was insecure about his past behaviour, about however proud and selfish he might have been. “Well, you are not too conceited or overbearing for me to hug when I have news to share, so your character passes muster with me. I hope,” she stammered, “I hope I did not offend you.”
“I said I was honest. If I had minded, I would have stopped you.”
He turned from the road to look at her. He had hugged her back, and they had lingered together longer than a congratulatory embrace needed. She had not hugged him only because he shared her delight. She saw in his face that he knew it, too.
Elizabeth turned back to face ahead. There was no reason to address that. Nothing could come of this slight attraction. She had no intention of placing herself under the control of another man, so she said brightly, “That was a simple enough errand, and I am very glad to be out of doors. It is a lovely day. Spain was warm like this, even in February.”
He took the hint to change the topic. “Did you like anything about living in Spain?” He added, “Before the battle.”
Everything after the fifth of March had been chaos and pain. “I wanted to stay with your cousin wherever that took me. What an adventure, or so I thought before I knew better.”
Darcy was silent, and she knew he was waiting for her to go on. He was a man comfortable with silences, while her husband had leapt into them with ease. “Fitzwilliam was terribly busy once he got to the garrison. I was in the march’s rear from the coast into the city, and I needed others to advise me on simply everything because I did not see him again until the rest of the followers entered Cádiz two days behind the battalion. I quickly learnt I would not see him unless he came home for dinner, or he needed something from me.”
“I am sorry you were often alone. A soldier must put his work before his wife, but that is hardly what a new bride expects.”
Darcy kept his attention on the road, but she saw how he shifted his shoulders and head toward her, leaning slightly to wait and listen. Her job was to make her husband comfortable in difficult conditions. Army life during wartime laid a strange path from service to affection to identity as a wife. At least until he was dead and the army said she was redundant.
“I had usefulness to the regiment,” she finally said. “Women might not be allowed to fight, but we are always allowed bandages and needles. There was much for us to do.”
While she was lost in remembrances, Darcy asked, “What else did you like about Spain? I have never been there and am not likely to ever go.”
“I liked the warmth, although I might say differently if I had been there in July. I liked the food. The family with whom we quartered made a Valencian rice dish. Some would call it a horror of garlic and olive oil, but I liked it. They added tomatoes, onions, and rabbit or snails, and they would often eat it from the same pan. I prefer my own plate,” she said with a laugh, “but it was excellent.”
“Should I ask Mrs Reynolds to find a receipt?”
“It would not be the same,” she said with a sad smile.
“No, but if you would still enjoy it, I will ask her.”
Darcy was a considerate man, and she felt herself grow jealous of whatever woman would get to call him her husband and fully enjoy all of his thoughtfulness and honourable passion. “Thank you,” she murmured. She strove to be cheerful. “It was hard, but all the officers’ wives had a sense of loyalty, a belonging to their husband’s regiment.”
“Your husband had to exist for others, and while I only received two letters from him before he died, they were full of mention of you. He admired how you could charm his superiors and make his friends comfortable.” He exhaled as he turned at the lodge. “I hope he appreciated you.”
“I saw his gratitude for the small domestic acts I did, bringing bread to his picket line, supplying a picnic dinner to his officers, in how he smiled when I entered the room.”
“I know he was a lieutenant colonel commanding a regiment, drilling, teaching or whatever he did, but did he truly have so little time for you?”
She provided utility and sexual convenience, but she would not say that aloud to Darcy. Besides, although it was true, to express it in those terms would cheapen the genuine affection between her and her late husband. “No wife would interfere with his duty, or question it. And then he was dead and all the army’s support vanished. I was proud to be a faithful and serviceable wife, and aiding him aided the army, but I lost my identity when Fitzwilliam died.”
She could feel Darcy’s tension, the question he was holding back. She could talk about Spain before Barossa, but not after.
As they neared the house, Darcy adjusted the reins and tugged on his black arm band. It had slipped while he drove.
“You can remove it,” she said, pointing to it. “You carry him with you regardless of the black, and you have done your public show of mourning for longer than necessary. Georgiana should not have to wear grey to the seaside, but she will if you are still wearing black crepe.”
A bleakness filled his eyes. “What would he say?”
She gave him a smile. “What do you think?”
“He would tease me about not respecting his memory and put on a great show about how I must never have loved him if, after a mere four months, I took off my black.”
She stared at him, trying to read his expression. There was strength and humour in it. But there was also vulnerability. He understood the complexities of life and love.
After Darcy stopped the curricle by the stables, Elizabeth reached over and unpinned the ribbon, balling it up in her hand and tucking it into her pocket.
“I think he would laugh at you for thinking it mattered at all. And he would say I look awful in black and, come September, I had better change into grey because how could I catch a new husband looking like a crow?”
Rather than laugh, Darcy said earnestly, “He would never say you look awful. You are an exceedingly handsome woman.”
What did she feel in her heart for him when he said things like that and looked at her like that? It was certainly affection, compounded by desire, esteem, and respect. Was the bond forming between them this summer of the unbreakable, permanent kind? Something deeper than common good liking and friendship?
Their hands rested on the seat between them. Darcy stretched his hand toward hers and allowed their fingers to brush. The light pressure through their gloves was exquisite. Her pulse pounded an erratic beat in her chest even after Darcy helped her down and they parted in the house.