Chapter 15
Darcy shivered in the pre-dawn darkness.
The fire had been kept up all night — this was still a sickroom in everyone’s mind, of course.
But he was cold to his very bones with a grey exhaustion that could not be relieved with a fire — and especially not with hot bricks and a blanket for the long coach ride north.
He scowled, wondering if he was really as ready for travel as he had insisted he was yesterday. Sir Charles had been doubtful, but had ultimately said that any increased discomfort ought not to cause lasting harm and Darcy had leapt on the grudging permission.
Overnight, he had realised his coach would be crowded; he would have to face Miss Elizabeth — the new Mrs Darcy!
— for two days together. They could hardly sit in silence, but he was afraid of his uncertain temper.
Perhaps she might prefer to sit in the second coach with her maid.
The rest of the servants who usually travelled in it with the luggage would have to sit outside on the perches.
He hoped she would have the sense to understand this was not the usual wedding trip.
Of course he had not gone to her last night; she had been placed into a chamber in the guest wing, even though his own suite here had two bedchambers.
He shivered. Until he could stop wearing that ridiculous starched splint at night, no one apart from Maunder would be permitted to intrude and see how ridiculous he looked; he was determined on that.
There was a cold grey drizzle as he stepped carefully down the steps of Netherfield. The first time he had been out of the house, or even his bedchamber since … then.
He wanted to snap at his hovering valet, cousin and friend, but he managed to control it to an irritated huff. Perhaps his temper might improve faster than Mr Jones had hoped. Darcy closed his eyes for an instant; he prayed it would be so.
Footmen were scurrying to the coach laden with many hot bricks, blankets and pillows. It was to be hoped there was room in the coach for him — them.
“Safe travels, Darcy. And please accept my apologies again that such a thing should happen while you were my guest.” Bingley’s voice was anxious, but Darcy had no energy to spare in his determination to walk steadily.
“You could hardly be held accountable for ruffians lying in wait, Bingley!” Richard sounded jovial and over-loud, and Darcy huffed to himself in annoyance.
He had to be assisted into the coach to his frustration, and he took the forward-facing seat.
It was doubtful that he would be able to travel facing the rear.
Richard and Mr Maunder took the opposite bench, leaving an empty space beside him.
His spirits sank and he stared out of the window and his heart sank further.
Miss Elizabeth — Mrs Darcy — was speaking to Bingley. He could not hear what she was saying, but her face was drawn and pale, although she was composed. She curtsied briefly before turning to the coach, seeming to gather her courage and Bingley offered his hand to assist her up the step.
“Good morning, Mrs Darcy. I hope you slept well.” Richard’s voice was hearty and loud. Darcy winced. It ought to be him greeting his ... his wife.
“Thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam. The chamber was very comfortable.” It seemed she would not admit to a less-than-restful night.
As the door was closed, Darcy frowned. “Would you not wish your maid to travel with you, madam?”
She looked down at her lap. “I have no maid, sir.”
“Ah.” Darcy glanced across at Richard, who looked as chagrined as he felt. Neither of them had even considered she might not have her own lady’s maid. What would happen at the inn tonight? How would she manage?
A brief thought of him unbuttoning her gown in the privacy of his bedchamber flitted through his mind, and he scowled, banishing the thought at once. It was soon gone completely, as the coach started with a jolt and his scowl deepened.
Soon he was concentrating on not casting up his accounts, not falling off the bench, and wishing he had delayed travel for another week.
He vaguely heard Richard attempting conversation with her, but she only spoke briefly in return, and soon all speech ceased; his only thought being to get to the next stop.
Even ten minutes of respite while they changed horses would help greatly.
It was as well that his coaches were the best sprung in the country, Darcy thought sourly, as they drew into the post inn for the second stop of the morning, and there was movement around him as the other occupants prepared to leave.
He pressed himself miserably closer to the side of the coach.
“Sir?” It was her. “Perhaps you might find it easier to leave the coach and move a little, just for a few minutes?”
“Leave me.” He knew his voice was abrupt, but he knew she must be acting a pretended concern. After all, she despises me. I discovered that during our dance at the ball.
“Come, Mrs Darcy.” Richard’s voice was merely a murmur, and he heard the sound of her being handed out of the coach.
Finally alone, he leaned his head back against the squabs, keeping his eyes closed. He was startled to hear someone clearing their throat, and glanced across to see that Maunder was still seated.
“Sir, would you permit me to have some of the powders mixed for you while we are waiting?”
He nodded. “Yes.” Willow bark would help somewhat for the rest of this dreadful day.
It had been a dreadful day. He had sat in the corner of the private parlour at their lunch stop, refusing food. Richard had appeared with a glass of brandy and a low voice. “That will assist with the rest of the day, Darce.”
He had wondered briefly how the lady had managed without a maid, but had left any difficulty to Richard; he had no energy himself.
Now they were at Enderby, at the Red Lion.
He knew it quite well, and was now not certain whether that was a good thing.
But Richard had booked enough rooms and Darcy had retreated quickly with Maunder to his chamber.
The landlord knew his requirements and there was a cot for his valet by the door as always when he was away from home.
He hoped Miss Elizabeth — Mrs Darcy — had a quality chamber, and he frowned.
“Mr Maunder, has my cousin ensured there is a woman to protect my … my wife in her chamber?”
“I have ensured that, sir. It seemed necessary, and the landlady was eager to oblige.”
Darcy nodded and attempted to forget his obligations.
He would have a tray sent up; he had no inclination to dine with the party — with her.
She despised him; she had not wished to marry; it would be a kindness to her to stay distant.
And he preferred it; every time he saw her, he was reminded of the mortification that she had seen him helpless. He shivered.
“I have sent for more wood for the fire, sir.” Maunder sounded subdued. “I will ensure the chamber stays warm.”
Darcy looked over at him. “I think you will be as grateful as I am to reach Pemberley.”
The man’s faint smile was inoffensive, but still Darcy felt his irritation rising. He wished he could be utterly alone. But it was not possible. Perhaps more brandy would help him to sleep. He preferred whisky, of course, despite it being less fashionable, but brandy was medicinal.
He ate what he could, and had Maunder assist him to bed. Perhaps he could sleep, but a quiet knock on the door admitted Richard, who was clearly surprised to see his cousin abed.
“I had thought you might want to stroll around the place, Darce, to stretch your muscles before you slept.”
Darcy shook his head; he had no wish to see anyone, to have to exchange even the briefest of pleasantries. He glanced at the mantel-clock; it was merely eight in the evening. Perhaps it was too early to try to sleep.
“Sit down, Richard. You are looming.”
“Well, only for a few minutes. You ought to dress again and come downstairs. Mrs Darcy really needs to see you, you know. You cannot hide from her forever.”
Darcy growled. He must control his temper. “I will not. This is what she wants. She despises me. I discovered that before this all happened.”
Richard leaned forward. “Darcy, you have married her. Regardless of whether you and she wanted to or not, it is done. You have the rest of your lives together and you must make rather more of an effort to be a husband else both your lives may be unremitting misery. I would not wish that on you or Mrs Darcy. And she is already acting as Mrs Darcy.” He swung round to Maunder.
“She bought you and the coachman and grooms iced buns at the last stop, did she not?” He grinned. “And me.”
“I will do as you ask later, Richard.” Darcy lost his composure, his voice rising. “Just not now. It will be easier without the thought of tomorrow’s journey.”
His cousin rose to his feet. “Very well, but you must make an effort. I would hate to see either of you miserable.”
“I am sure you are able to entertain her better than I this evening.” Darcy scowled.
“She does not want to impose, I think,” Richard said thoughtfully. “She retired immediately after we had eaten.”
The next day was as bad as the first. Darcy knew he ought not to have journeyed so soon; he would pay for it with several days’ discomfort. But as the lands changed to the wild peaks and valleys of his home, he began to feel himself unwinding. Relaxing.
As he had the previous day, he remained in the carriage for all except the lunch stop, even though he had taken the powders and a brandy before the journey. He had come down to the coach as early as possible, wanting to be in and seated before she might see how much assistance he still required.
All through the day he kept the tightest of reins on his temper; his one outburst the previous afternoon having mortified him when he had seen her shrink back against the side of the coach.
But he could not fail to notice that she had already charmed Richard and Maunder. He could not fail to notice the slight smile on his valet’s face, even though he remained entirely proper in only responding briefly to direct questions. The conversation was left to Richard and … her.
He knew he must begin to think of her as his wife, as Mrs Darcy. To himself, he must acknowledge that her agreement had saved him and his sister from a dreadful scandal.
He was a wretched creature, all temper and complaint, to sit brooding over trifles when others had endured worse. But that thought made him angrier, and he turned back to the window. He must stop this self-castigation and let the peace of Pemberley work its usual magic on him.
Dusk was deepening as they drove the final miles.
Darcy anticipated a roaring fire in his chambers; perhaps if he was fortunate, there might be venison pie.
For the first time in several weeks, his mouth watered.
This was his favourite time of year; the cull would have taken place, the game hanging in the larder.
Even a few mouthfuls would bring the comforts of home to mind.
As they drew up outside the house, he began to sense something was wrong. There were few lights in the house, and a groom was running from the stables instead of several waiting for them. The great door was not open. There was a chill, empty air about the place.
He looked over at Richard’s expression, knowing his own features must mirror it. Anger flared. He could not have been expected to think of notifying the house. “Did you not tell Mrs Reynolds to expect us?”
Richard’s eyebrows rose. “Did you not?” He stared Darcy down, obviously as exasperated as Darcy was with the whole debacle of such a journey.
Once they were in the house, Mrs Reynolds stood, wringing her hands.
“I am so sorry, Mr Darcy. I must have forgotten you were arriving today. But we can have everything ready very soon. The — the hot water will be …” She turned away.
“Mrs Kerr!”
The deputy housekeeper was there within a moment, and Mrs Reynolds looked at her. “You know what needs to be got ready first.”
The other woman nodded. “I will arrange all, Mrs Reynolds.” She glanced at Elizabeth, who was standing quietly, still in her heavy pelisse and bonnet.
Richard stepped forward. “Mrs Darcy, may I introduce the housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds?”
He turned to the other. “Mrs Reynolds, this is Mrs Darcy. I hope her apartments are in readiness. She will also require a maid to be allocated to her until she can appoint someone.”
Darcy stepped forward. This was not really how he would have wanted his wife introduced to the perfectly-run home that was Pemberley. But everything in his life appeared to be going spectacularly wrong; it was no wonder this had happened.
He became aware that Maunder had taken his elbow. The valet spoke to Mrs Kerr as she returned to their party.
“Please have the fire made up at once in the master’s chambers, and have plenty of firewood taken up. The master is still very unwell and must have a warm room at once.”
He assisted Darcy up the stairs. “I am desolate that this has happened, sir. I had no notion that the notification had not been thought of. I hope I can soon have you comfortable.”
Darcy glanced back down to the bottom of the stairs.
His wife was standing in the hall, looking a little lost, while Richard seemed to be trying to get Mrs Reynolds out of the state of shock she appeared to be in.
Darcy was grimly amused at the sight of her.
He had never known her to be anything but perfectly organised.
But then, he had always notified her of his movements long in advance.
He could be accused of being too predictable.
He knew a brief pang that his wife may not be comfortable this first night at Pemberley. But he must leave Richard to deal with this; Darcy himself was exhausted.
Tomorrow. By tomorrow all this would have been put right overnight. His staff were efficient and hard-working. It was certain that all the basic readiness of the house was in place; it would not take long to have it as it always was.