Chapter 28
It might have been easier if she could have attended the funeral, Elizabeth thought. Mrs Snell would have also benefitted.
But seeing the tiny casket being carried out of the cottage to the cart was hardly a good way to farewell a life, however briefly lived.
Over the last fortnight, Elizabeth had found herself remembering the moments she had been there while he lived; attempting to spoon a little milk into his mouth as he was too weak to suckle, watching his skin become greyer by the day.
She saw his mother retreat from him as her forthcoming loss became certain. All Elizabeth could do was to cradle him in her arms, giving him what comfort she could while he still lived.
And yet, she could not be there all the time, and she was prevented from thinking of him often since the burial.
The routine of the mistress of Pemberley must continue.
She undertook tenant calls, called on Mrs Hayes and one or two others of the church community, and consulted daily on menus and household duties with Mrs Kerr, and spent several hours with Mrs Reynolds, finding the gentle pace of her conversation soothing.
She was tired, so tired. Would there ever be an end to this tension in her? Had she been wrong to hope that her marriage would become comfortable at the very least, and not a place of constant concern, and a need to hold herself with care, lest she stir her husband’s temper?
However, she had to acknowledge there had been some change in Mr Darcy’s habits; he seemed more often present where she was.
He dined regularly each evening and joined her afterwards in the drawing room — only for a few minutes, but at least it meant that she didn’t have to wait for longer in case he might appear.
But he did not speak to her beyond the usual terse enquiries about her duties or the tenant problems. She admitted that his voice seemed quieter and less accusing.
But he still never thought to offer her a drink in the drawing room before dinner; he never seemed to notice that she carried the same book with her — she rarely read it, knowing it almost by heart.
And behind that closed door, the library taunted her with the thousands of books; much of the knowledge of the world, kept from her.
He had seemed distracted at times, but had good reason to, she supposed, as Lady Day was upon them and there must be a great deal of accounting for the year just passed.
She grumbled to herself as she sat in the morning room, sewing more flannels for the tenant children. It was a joy to take them on her rounds, they were so delighted with the gifts she brought them. And their mothers had begun to welcome her calls, too.
Her husband might be more even-tempered, more certain of himself, but there was no sign that he needed to speak to her about her pin money.
He must have seen that she had not been able to access it when he was doing the accounts.
Selfish, arrogant man! He might be a conscientious master, but he certainly cared nothing for her.
It was two days later when she overheard Mr Darcy speaking to Mrs Kerr. She was passing the passage leading to the master apartments on her way downstairs, and she stepped silently into a nearby alcove, after glancing round to be sure she was unobserved.
She felt very slightly ashamed, yet nothing could have persuaded her to withdraw once she had heard him mention her name.
“Why is Mrs Darcy not in the mistress’s apartments? I have just entered to speak to her, and it has not been touched for years!”
“I am sorry, Mr Darcy, but I had no notion that you were unaware the rooms were not ready when you arrived.” There was a slight pause, and Elizabeth wondered if she ought to rescue the woman. But then she continued to speak.
“Upon your arrival in December, Mrs Darcy agreed to occupy a guest chamber that was in readiness, and has also taken the next chamber as a sitting room. We discussed the refurbishment of this suite, and she insisted that the work ought not to be begun when you required peace and quiet while recuperating in the adjoining apartments. Since then, the subject has not arisen again.”
Elizabeth heard a grunt of mingled displeasure and embarrassment before he spoke again.
“Well, it will not do. Ensure all the furnishings are moved to the attics and the rooms are cleaned. Then Mrs Darcy can decide what decoration and furnishings she wants and the work is to be undertaken without delay. Am I understood?”
Both words and tone showed his displeasure, and Elizabeth decided to speak to the housekeeper after the meal and express her share of the blame for the work not having commenced.
She continued on down the stairs. He had said he had entered the apartment to speak to her. How terribly inconvenient he must find it that she was not at his beck and call!
And that he had not even noticed before this that there was no movement in the passageways! No lady’s maid — no wife — coming and going if she had resided there. Nearly four months, and he had only just discovered it.
She shrugged to herself. She had always understood he did not want her as his wife. He had married her to protect the Darcy name and that of his sister and did not notice her presence or absence.
He would insist she move to the mistress’s apartments for the sake of appearances, that was all. She, Elizabeth Darcy, must make her own life here without her husband being in it.
Oh, but how lonely she was! If she could only write to her family, how much more pleasant her life would be.
But it was not to be. Elizabeth straightened up. She could do this, she could.
Over the next weeks, she found herself remaining for less and less time in his company.
She waited until he was riding out with his steward before entering her future apartments and deciding on wallpaper and fabrics for the curtains.
Mrs Kerr insisted that the furnishings be all new, when Elizabeth attempted to say that the ones in the attic could be reused.
So, he wishes that I not sully his mother’s bed by sleeping on it, I suppose.
She nodded agreement without comment, and returned to the mistress’s sitting room downstairs to peruse her notebook of the tenants she would be visiting later.
The following day Elizabeth called on Lucy Hayes, relishing the time away from Pemberley; but discomposed when Mr Darcy broke the habitual silence over dinner to ask her about her visit.
“How was Mrs Hayes today, madam? And did you speak to Mr Hayes as well?”
She glanced up with surprise, seeing him drop his gaze from her face as she met his eyes.
“I did, sir. Mr Hayes stayed to greet me before she and I had our refreshments together while he went about his business.”
“Ah.” He returned to his dinner, and the moment passed. So she startled when he spoke again. “Perhaps you could issue an invitation to the Hayes to dine here in a week or two.”
She hesitated. “If you wish it, then of course, sir.” But he was frowning. Had he seen her visibly startle? Perhaps he thought she was reluctant to expose their marriage so openly. She stopped herself from biting her lip; it would be difficult to act her part while entertaining.
“I will select a few possible dates and consult with you before sending the invitation.” She placed her cutlery down on her plate, and leaned back, her appetite fading.