Chapter 16
SETTING OUT
In the breakfast parlour the next morning, Mr Darcy spoke of various errands he wished to complete before leaving for Pemberley—chief amongst them being the initiation of preparations of her settlement, ensuring that she would always be taken care of.
It no longer surprised her that this was of primary concern to him.
It did surprise her, however, when he asked her if she wished to visit her aunt and enlist her aid in completion of shopping for a long list of items for her wardrobe that he was certain she would need.
“I would love to have her help. Mrs Gardiner is very stylish herself, and I cannot think of a better person to go to for assistance.”
“Would it be too audacious to send a carriage for her? I apologise that there is not time to do more and arrange introductions first, but I had hoped to place the announcement of our marriage in the papers on Monday. If we do not wish to be inundated with visitors, we ought to be well on our way to Pemberley before Monday morning callers swarm en masse. It does not give you many days to shop.”
Elizabeth was amused by his opinion of the time she would need to spend his money. Probably, in the circles of women he knew, shopping was nearly a full-time employment. “She has likely only just received the letter with the news of my marriage, and I imagine she would like to see that I am well.”
He only nodded soberly.
“When I wrote to her, I did not tell her the reason for my hasty marriage. I am sure my parents said nothing. Neither will I do so.”
He covered her hand with his. “I trust you, Elizabeth. Whatever you choose to say or not say is entirely up to you.”
How many men of his stature would be so generous—in all ways? Whether it was his money or his trust, he treated her so liberally!
In response to her note, her aunt changed all of her day’s plans in order to accompany her niece.
Elizabeth was pleased when Mr Darcy made himself available for an introduction before they departed, and she watched with satisfaction his response to Mrs Gardiner’s obvious respectability. He was relieved, she could tell.
She could not censure him for his fears—not after her mother’s frequent and boisterous follies.
Once alone in the carriage, Mrs Gardiner did not inundate Elizabeth with questions—it was not her way. She asked only one. “Are you happy, dear?”
Elizabeth examined her feelings carefully. A very few days before, she had been miserable. By the time of her wedding, she had been resigned. But now?
“I think the proper word might be ‘hopeful’.”
Her aunt did not remark upon Elizabeth’s words, only proceeded to tell her about growing up in a town called Lambton, near Pemberley, with the Darcy family well known as the area’s chief inhabitants.
“My father knew old Mr Darcy, your husband’s father.
He often spoke of how good a man he was. I would expect the same of his son.”
“I believe he is. As you already know, this marriage was accomplished in a great haste. We do not know each other well—I could tell he was a little nervous, wondering if you would be too much like Mama.” Elizabeth tried to smile about this, as if it were not painful.
“And yet, he had you send a carriage for me, regardless. Not to mention that he wishes us to spend a great deal of money today. It seems to me that he cares deeply for your happiness.”
“I think he does. It is all very confusing. Two weeks ago, I had no idea of marriage whatsoever, and today I am Mrs Darcy, while he is still almost a stranger.”
“The beauty of life is this—he will not always be so. You are used to understanding everything there is to know about your home, your world, and all the people in it. At this moment, you are in a place of not knowing. This space between the knowing and the not knowing is filled with frustration and bewilderment, exactly because you are accustomed to being a person who already knows. But our greatest growth will always come from time spent in this vexing, ignorant space, no matter what it is that we are trying to learn. It is how we cultivate resilience, which helps in every other aspect of life.”
“It is not easy.”
“Most worthwhile things are not.”
Early Monday morning, Elizabeth found herself on her way to Pemberley.
She was almost sorry to go—not only was the London house beautiful and the servants exceptionally accommodating, but she was near her aunt, uncle, and cousins, with whom she had managed to spend much time.
She was adept at forming friendships, and had she remained in town for those ‘floodgates’, she was certain she would soon have many.
Every evening, she had spent time with her new husband, but could not escape the near overwhelming feelings of awkwardness; she could not seem to form a friendship with him.
“What I do not know, is how to be a wife,” she said.
Mr Darcy turned away from the carriage window to look at her, and only then did she realise that she had spoken aloud. She felt a blush rising, but was determined to say some of the thoughts that had been troubling her.
“All my life, I have attached the notion of becoming someone’s wife to a series of roles—first as a woman in love, then as the manager of a home, finally as the mother of children. We have upended that order, although I still want to do and be all of those things. I do not know where to start.”
Thankfully, he did not laugh at her. “I can understand that. I had, I think, very different ideas. I believed that I would first select someone who filled my family’s expectations and to whom I was physically attracted, and that those two ideals somehow equalled an idyllic alliance.
I was not in the habit of thinking of my wife as an individual with hopes and dreams of her own, nor myself as responsible for encouraging her happiness. ”
She nodded. “Tell me, what are the things—no matter how small—which bring you happiness?”
“I will be glad to share some of those thoughts. But will you, first, tell me what it is that brings you your happiness?”
Elizabeth thought about what to say, at first hesitating—people were so apt to make judgments about one based on the smallest evidence.
But as her aunt had said, the only way to go from the ‘not knowing’ to the ‘knowing’ was to tolerate the discomfort of this vulnerability.
“I love to read, to sew, to walk in the beauty of nature. I love the theatre—my uncle Gardiner has taken me several times.”
“I wish I had known—I would have taken you.”
“I thought you wished to avoid people, for now.”
“Not at the expense of any pleasure of yours.”
She smiled at him—he really was very kind. “We will go next time we are in town.”
“When you imagined your future husband, what attributes did you picture?”
“Hmm. I did not have a detailed list, you understand.”
“But you must have had some conception.”
“I do not think I wished for anything that most girls do not want—that he be intelligent, considerate, and respectable. Oh, and very handsome, of course,” she said, grinning.
He adopted an expression of profound thought, then counted off on his fingers. “One, two, three, and of course the fourth. All your wishes can be accommodated, I believe.”
She laughed, delighted with his teasing, but then his expression grew solemn.
“I wished for the same. I also hoped to find someone devoted, someone whose first loyalty would be to our family. When you came to Netherfield, on foot, to care for your sister, I knew you to be a woman of just such dedication and spirit.”
As she thought of how she wished to reply, she decided she would be candid with him, no matter how silly it sounded.
“When Jane and I were very young—we played as I think children, especially girls, often do—setting up little households in the nursery with our dolls. I particularly loved this game, but I always demanded a bit more realism than Jane required. We would argue, because I thought our game required a ‘mama’ and a ‘papa’—but of course, I was the mama.”
“You forced your elder sister to play the father?” He seemed to find this amusing.
“Well, someone had to be. But she would cry.”
“She wanted to be the mother, I suppose.”
“Probably. But that is not what made her so sad. It was that the papa did not do anything useful in our girlish little world. Finally, we agreed on the designation of a particular doll to be ‘Father’, and we usually simply tossed him under the bed—out of sight, to do whatever it was fathers do. I suppose that I have always hoped for a husband who would be involved in our family’s day-to-day living, not merely a visitor who appears nightly at the dinner table.
That he would be actively participating with me in life, and with our children if we are so blessed, even before they are able to read and converse easily with their elders. ”
He leant forward on his seat. “Whatever else I am, Elizabeth, I can promise you this: I will never be an under-the-bed papa.” He looked and sounded perfectly serious.
That was the moment when she began to fall a little bit in love.