Chapter 65
Now she had made the decision, Elizabeth almost wanted to be there already. But she knew there was much to be done.
She waited a day or two before writing to Papa, so that he had already agreed to send Mary to London. And she also needed winter clothes. One thing she remembered clearly about Pemberley was that the weather was a great deal less hospitable in winter.
However, on speaking to her aunt, she was given to understand that it might take less time to send her measurements and chosen patterns on ahead to Derby, where the winter wardrobe could be commenced at once, and she would be able to attend more easily for the final fittings.
She watched, with some concealed delight, at Mr Darcy’s determined attempts to be of service to her, rather than organising the whole journey. But eventually, she took pity upon him.
“Mr Darcy, I do understand and appreciate your attempt to involve me in all matters; however, you know best the routes and inns along the way, so I willingly defer to your judgement in that matter.”
His relief had been evident, but he still brought something to her each day.
“I have written this letter,” he extended an unsealed letter, “to Mrs Kerr, instructing her to be at your disposal at the dower house until you are settled there, since she knows your preferences the best. The new deputy housekeeper has been in post nearly a year now, and can oversee Pemberley House temporarily.” He looked concerned. “Does that meet with your approval?”
Elizabeth had nodded. “If that is what the letter says, then I do not need to approve it. Thank you, I would welcome seeing Mrs Kerr there to assist me in the early days.” She reached out to touch his hand.
“You said you had the dower house refurbished and redecorated for me. In my mind, that extends to the full preparation including the staff. I will accept whatever you arrange until I am ready to make any changes that I might wish to.” She hesitated.
“The only request I have, if I may, is that if Emily still works at Pemberley, and if she is agreeable, I would like her to resume as my maid.”
“Of course, Elizabeth. I will see to it at once.”
She greeted Mary with a hug, and almost tearfully. They might not have been the closest of sisters, but she was here, and Elizabeth could thank her for caring for Papa and doing what she had not been there for.
Her sister had shrugged. “You married in order to save Jane and me from ruin, Lizzy. How could anyone have expected anything more from you, taken away to the other end of England?” She settled herself into the chair.
“Jane sends her very best love to you of course, but she could not come to you because she has been very unwell these last few months, and cannot abide the thought of travel.”
Elizabeth had wondered why Jane had not been on the very next coach to London, and now she looked at Mary who seemed not to want to elucidate. “Is she in expectation of a happy event soon? She said nothing in her letters.”
Mary nodded. “It is too soon for her to be confident of saying so in writing, I think. Mama is very loud about it and how it will certainly be a son.” She shrugged.
“I do not see that it matters. Netherfield is not entailed, and we already know that Charlotte will be the next mistress of Longbourn.”
But at last all that was behind her and she sat beside Mr Darcy in his best travelling coach as the team pulled away from Gracechurch Street, her aunt and uncle waving her off.
Aunt had approved her choice. “You are married after all, Lizzy, and if you want an established life and children, it must be with him. And he seems very determined that you should be happy.”
With that encouragement in her mind, she settled herself to a rather longer journey in his sole company than she might have thought wise at these fragile moments of accord.
But there was no need for it now. She would not be so determined to keep him at arm’s length as to make him ride, especially as the weather was not clement.
Now was the beginning of her journey to her new life. This, she hoped, might be less eventful. “Tell me, Mr Darcy. You must travel a great deal on these long journeys between London and Pemberley. How would you normally pass the time if you were alone?”
He looked at her with a gentle smile. “I recall you saying that while you could read while travelling, it was not for long. You also said you could watch scenery for many hours. What else would you do to pass the time?”
She laughed lightly. “Mr Darcy, you might not realise I have rarely travelled any distance. Until the journey to Pemberley, I had never journeyed long enough to need to stay even one night at an inn.” She laughed at his appalled expression, but continued before he could speak.
“In fact, when travelling between Longbourn and my aunt and uncle’s home, we took a basket in the coach, and did not even stop at any inn.
Papa did not believe in changing the horses, so we went slowly.
” She lightened the mood. “I could read longer at that slow pace than I could when we came down from Lincolnshire.”
He shook his head. “Perhaps your difficulty in reading is because you are unused to travel?”
“Perhaps,” she acknowledged. “But you have deflected the question, sir! What is it you do in your many hours racing around the country?”
His smile was wry. “Estate papers, letters, accounts and such-like. Nothing of any interest to those not involved in the business of Pemberley.”
“Oh.” She was quiet for a moment. “I would venture that you are wearied far more by that sort of journey than if you had read something you would like, or really studied the countryside you are traversing.”
He turned and reached for a parcel she had earlier noted on the opposite bench. “And in that vein, I have something for you. If not for the journey, then at the inn this evening.”
He handed it to her, and, on opening it, she saw to her amazement three books, all of them on subjects she might well have selected herself. She looked up at him. “I thank you, sir. But tell me, how did you know what I would like?”
“It was not difficult; I watched in Hatchards which of the shelves caused you to linger long.”
Elizabeth looked down, her fingers moving down the cover. He had observed her so he could buy gifts she would enjoy. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
At that moment, the coach slowed and turned into yet another posting inn. Relieved, she could change the subject. “Another change of horses?”
He smiled. “I am afraid so. Would you care to walk out a moment while it is done? We will not stop for lunch until the next inn.”
She nodded. “I would appreciate the opportunity.” As he handed her down the step, she hid a sigh. A three day journey. Two nights at inns. Changing horses every hour or so. And sitting beside her husband, hour after hour. It would be difficult to think of new topics of conversation.