Chapter 22
Chapter 22
It was the pain in her lower back and stomach that awoke Elizabeth the next morning.
No, it simply cannot be! shethought in disbelief. It really could not be that the day she intended to have the most important conversation of her life with her husband, her courses would start—she did a hurried calculation—nearly five days early! However, the stickiness on her thighs told its own tale.
“Oh, just wonderful!” she mumbled, her eyes welling up with tears of frustration. It felt as if the entire universe was conspiring against her. In the first two days of her courses, not only did she suffer from pain and nausea, but the heavy flow usually restricted her movement. How was she to keep a clear head and explain everything to Fitzwilliam? And… and if… he forgave her, as she hoped he would, and then expected.… Her mind shied away from the possibility. The very idea of having to reject his overtures for any reason whatsoever was insupportable, especially after what had happened between them.
“Lord! What am I to do?” she muttered as she punched her pillow in frustration.
Sarah, who had just entered her room, came hurrying forward. “What is it, Miss Lizzy? Are you ill?” she asked in concern, forgetting that she had been diligently practicing addressing her mistress as Mrs Darcy.
“Oh!” she said once she identified the problem. “Let me help you get changed, then I’ll go downstairs to check if Mrs Reynolds knows the recipe for Mrs Higgins’s tisane which helped you so much last time.
“I hope so, Sarah.”
“I’ll also ask them to send your breakfast up here?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Hmm. Only tea and a slice of toast, Sarah,” she replied even as she wondered what her husband was doing right now.
∞∞∞
At that very moment, Darcy was in his study, bidding farewell to Mr Jacobson, his solicitor in Lambton. Initially, he was surprised that Mr Jacobson had turned up so early, but once he knew of the solicitor’s errand, he understood the urgency.
After Mr Jacobson had left, Darcy picked up the packet the man had given him with a hand that shook slightly. To receive a letter from his mother years after her death was an unreal experience. According to Jacobson, his mother had left one letter each for him and Georgie to be handed to them at the time of their wedding.
He inverted the packet on the table; a sealed letter and a key fell out of it. He glanced at the key as he broke open the seal of the letter. For a moment, he was puzzled, for it appeared to be a duplicate of the key to the small safe in his bedchamber. Ah, it must be the key to the safe in the mistress’s chamber, he decided as he unfolded the letter.
My dearest William,
Please accept my love and heartfelt best wishes on this joyous occasion. I hope and pray that you and your lovely wife (How do I know she is lovely, you ask? Well, anyone who my William holds dear to his heart has to be lovely!) are blessed with all the happiness in the world.
You are reading this letter, so I am no longer in this world, but please know that wherever I am, I am very delighted for you and my new daughter. I would have loved to personally welcome her to our family and be a part of your joy. However, since that is obviously not possible, I would request that you give your wife this key to the safe in the mistress’s chamber in Pemberley. It contains a letter for her and a small token of my affection.
Finally, if I were to give you one piece of advice for a blissful life ahead, it would be to never go to sleep with an angry heart. I say this to you because I know you are very much your father’s son and would rather keep your pain to yourself than talk about it.
Be happy, William.
Your loving mother
Receiving his mother’s blessings, especially now, when he needed them to mend things between Elizabeth and himself, pleased him beyond words. It felt like a sign that everything would soon be well.
He picked up the key and made his way to his wife’s bedroom. Ihope she has had a good rest. She looked tired yesterday; he thought as he climbed the stairs.
∞∞∞
He knocked on her door and went inside when she bade enter.
“Fitzwilliam!” she appeared flustered, and he realised she had not been expecting him. It surprised him to see her still in bed at this time. She was usually an early riser. He looked searchingly at her and thought he understood the reason; she looked wan and unwell.
“Elizabeth, are you not feeling well?” he asked in concern as he moved to stand by her side.
“I…” Before she could respond, Sarah entered the room with a tumbler half-full of a dark liquid.
“I was right, Miss Lizzy; Mrs Reynolds knows the recipe for that tisane, as Miss Darcy also suffers something bad during her courses…” Sarah stopped abruptly and flushed a deep red as she realised that her mistress was not alone. She hurriedly placed the glass on a table by the bedside before leaving with a quick curtsey.
There was an awkward silence after she left, then Darcy picked up the glass and offered it to his embarrassed wife. “Please take the tisane, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth took the proffered glass and swallowed the tisane in two gulps, grimacing at the bitter taste. Seeing this, her husband offered her some water.
After a moment, he asked awkwardly, “Um… does it always hurt so much?”
Elizabeth’s flush deepened. It felt strange and embarrassing to be discussing her courses with a man, even if it was her husband. “N-no. It hurts this bad only for the first two days.”
Darcy remembered Elizabeth missing her riding lessons a few times when they were in London. Although he had been vaguely aware of the reason, he had never really bothered to think about the extent of discomfort she or Georgie underwent during this time.
“Oh! Perhaps I will come back later,” he mumbled as he started edging backwards.
“No, Fitzwilliam, please wait. What did you want to tell me?”
“Ah… I just had a visit from my solicitor in Lambton. He handed me a letter from my mother, which she had given in his safekeeping just before her death. She had instructed him to give it to me on the occasion of my marriage.”
“Oh! It must have been so… so bittersweet to receive her letter,” Elizabeth said softly.
Darcy gave her an appreciative smile. “Yes, indeed, it was. Mother had also written a letter for you. It is in the safe in this room,” he said, waving the key in his hand.
“H-how very kind and thoughtful of her! Could you please take it out of the safe for me?”
“Of course,” Darcy went to the wall opposite her bed. He took down the watercolour painting of Pemberley that hung there, revealing a small safe on the wall. He unlocked it with the key in his hand, removing a small jewellery box and a sealed letter from it. Finally, he handed the letter, the box, and the key to Elizabeth. “Here, all these are for you.”
Elizabeth kept the key and jewellery box on the bed and eagerly broke open the seal on the letter. She observed that it contained two closely written sheets.
Dear Daughter,
Please accept my love and heartfelt best wishes for becoming the new Mrs Darcy. I sincerely wish that you are as happy being one as I was. I could have also congratulated you on marrying the best of men—and he is the best son a mother could possibly have—but I only know the sixteen-year-old boy, not the man you married. Although I can safely say that you have married a very kind man, there are some intrinsic qualities in a person that do not change with the passage of time.
However, I must also warn you that he has the deplorable tendency of all Darcy men (I speak from great experience dealing with my husband, his father, and, of course, William) to keep things close to their chests. They are emotional souls who feel a lot but do not talk about it much. This unfortunate tendency prevails both in happy situations and otherwise, and, at times, may lead to quite a bit of heartache and annoyance. I learned to read when my husband was miffed—a nerve started to tick just below his left jaw. I can only advise you to do the same with your husband, it will hold you in good stead all through your lives together.
“His eyes turn into dark, cold pools,” Elizabeth mumbled indistinctly.
“Pardon?” Darcy asked her in puzzlement.
“Ah, nothing; I was sharing my observation with her,” Elizabeth replied absently before continuing with her reading.
Darcy blinked at her bent head in astonishment. “Of course, what else,” he muttered, smiling involuntarily.
And now, from one woman to another, I am going to let you in on a secret. William adores gold cake with sugar icing, especially when prepared using the recipe I am sharing with you. It has a special ingredient that I have not disclosed to anyone but you, because I wanted you to have a ready weapon when needed to prod your grumpy husband down from his high horse. I am sorry to have to confess, but he has the unfortunate tendency to jump on it often. I can only hope that my small help will go a long way towards keeping the two of you out of any serious strife throughout your lives together.
Elizabeth smiled at the charming words, looking under her lashes at her husband.
“What?” Darcy enquired, even as he frantically tried to control his body’s involuntary response to that alluring look. He did not know why it had happened to him; perhaps the knowledge that she loved him and had sought comfort in his bed during his absence was to blame, but he was now finding it increasingly difficult to regulate himself in her presence.
“Uh-um.” She shook her head and went back to the final few lines in the letter.
Finally, I wanted to leave you with a small piece of personal jewellery that is very dear to me, as it was the first ever gift that my husband presented to me. I give it to you with the fond wish that it will bring you as much luck and happiness as it did me.
Always be happy, my dear.
Sincerely yours,
Anne Darcy.
Elizabeth looked at the other sheet, which, as she expected, contained a detailed recipe for the mysterious gold cake.
Her heart lifted as she finished reading the letter. She folded the two sheets carefully and tucked them under her pillow. All the frustration she had felt when she found out about her courses had disappeared. The letter truly felt like a blessing, and she had a feeling that everything would soon turn out well.
“What does she say?” Darcy asked curiously.
“It is a personal letter, Mr Darcy, to a woman from her mother.”
Darcy’s heart lifted, as did his eyebrows at her teasing tone. “It could hardly be a state secret,” he objected.
“Well, she congratulated me on our marriage and hoped that I would be as happy being Mrs Darcy as she was.” Elizabeth smiled as she opened the jewellery box and took out the exquisite ring, which was fashioned in the shape of two entwined hearts and encrusted with rubies.
“Oh! It is beautiful,” she exclaimed as she slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand. “And it fits!”
“Hmm. It looks lovely on your hand,” he murmured huskily.
She looked up from the ring to smile at him before saying, “And you are wrong, Fitzwilliam; the letter does have a secret that is equally, if not more, important than the state ones.”
“May I enquire what it pertains to?”
“Yes, it is a Darcy family recipe for the gold cake, replete with a secret ingredient.” Elizabeth was amazed at the thought that anyone would want to add Sal Volatile to any kind of dessert, but, there it was, underlined clearly.
“Oh, so that is why the cake never tasted as good after Mother passed,” Darcy said thoughtfully, then added, “By the by, it seems like an excellent idea to pass some special family recipes to the next generation in this manner.”
“Yes, I liked receiving it very much. It made me feel blessed,” Elizabeth acknowledged before continuing, “I will be sure to keep a few recipes to pass on to the wives of our sons. Oh!” Elizabeth blushed and looked away from Darcy. She then glanced at him again, almost helplessly, before looking away once more.
The woman is intent on driving me mad, Darcy thought irritably, as, once again, blood rushed through his veins to that part of his anatomy that he did not want. In his annoyance, he almost asked Elizabeth how she was going to get all those sons if she meant to continue pushing him away the way she did earlier.
Whoa, Darcy! Control yourself. I thought you wanted some answers from her, not a kick in your rear end.
“Um… that is an excellent idea, if a little premature! I am glad Mother’s letter made you happy,” he said, absentmindedly observing that the blush had turned her wan countenance as lovely as ever. “My steward will be arriving in a few moments, so I will take your leave now,” he said before turning and walking away.
“Elizabeth?” he called to her from the door.
“Yes?”
“Please rest.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Unfortunately, for the next two days I will not be able to do much else, even if I wanted.”
“Hmm.” He walked out of the door with a smile of farewell. Elizabeth was not sure if she heard, “My poor Elizabeth,” just before the door closed.
Before going to his study, Darcy went upstairs to his bedchamber, and to Banes’ astonishment, he splashed some cold water on his face and neck before getting a new cravat tied and heading out once again.
∞∞∞
The next two days were not as tedious and frustrating as Elizabeth had feared. Although the pain and nausea occurred as usual, the tisane and the special care Mrs Reynolds lavished on her made her almost comfortable. Circumstances had delayed her apology to Fitzwilliam, but Lady Anne”s letter ensured that she could at least fulfil one of her aunt”s suggestions. That is why, in addition to receiving frequent visits from Georgiana, she spent the most of her time planning to bake the gold cake for her husband and envisioning his response to it.
Fitzwilliam had returned to Pemberley after months and therefore was naturally preoccupied with pending estate work, but even so, he found time to poke his head into her room several times and enquire about her health, sometimes simply with a smile and sometimes with flowers from Pemberley’s extensive gardens.
To anyone looking from outside, the relationship between them would have appeared as friendly and amenable as it ever was. Only the two of them were aware of the gargantuan elephant in the room, which they both wanted to address but were pretending to ignore. They were both waiting for Elizabeth’s monthly affliction to be over—Darcy because he did not want anything to add to her discomfort, and Elizabeth because, well….
The only difference between their situations was that while Elizabeth knew exactly what she needed to say to him, poor Darcy struggled to find the most delicate way to broach the topic. Sadly, he had not been able to think of one yet, and he finally decided to directly ask her the reason for her fears. After convincing himself that they both were mature, sensible people (at least for the majority of the time), he was eagerly waiting to talk to Elizabeth as soon as she was well again. His unruly senses would not let him wait one moment more than necessary.
On the third day, Elizabeth felt comfortable enough to try baking the gold cake. Her mother’s insistence that her daughters stay as far away from the kitchen as possible might have caused her to be totally ignorant of the intricacies of cooking. However, her own belief that one should be skilled enough to be able to survive on one’s own, as well as the influence of her Aunt Gardiner, a proficient baker, and her friend Charlotte, a great cook, ensured that she knew her way around the kitchen. To her great relief, the cake turned out well; at least it appeared and smelled delicious.
She wanted her husband to be the one to taste it first, but she did not have the courage to take it to him and see disappointment instead of pleasure in his eyes if it was not up to his expectations. Fortunately, someone else in the household knew the precise taste of Lady Anne’s cake. Although Elizabeth was not very certain how much a five-year-old child would remember, she took a slice of the cake to Georgiana’s room before the evening tea that day.
“Oh, you already baked it, Elizabeth! I recall Mother bringing the cake in this exact gold tone with silver dusting for my fifth birthday!” Georgiana exclaimed cheerfully.
“Yes, she was careful to detail the process to prepare the sugar icing,” Elizabeth replied.
“HmmUhmm,” Georgiana whimpered as she tasted the first bite. “It is delicious, Elizabeth!” A delighted smile lit her face.
Elizabeth nearly sagged in relief. “D-Does it taste like the one your mother prepared?”
Georgiana’s smile turned apologetic. “Ah… while I remember its distinctive colour, Elizabeth, I am sorry; I do not recall how the cake tasted. All I can say is that this one is softer and tastier than the ones prepared by the cooks at Pemberley or Darcy House,” she said, taking another bite.
After a while, she remarked, “Fitzwilliam must remember; why do you not ask him?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, I suppose that is what I should do.”
∞∞∞
Darcy was surprised to see Elizabeth accompanying Mrs Reynolds when the housekeeper brought in his tea.
“Elizabeth, why are you not resting?”
“I am feeling much better now, Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy looked at her intently for a moment before nodding. “Hmm. Then join me for tea,” he said, his eyes widening as he noticed the cake on the plate Mrs Reynolds had placed on the table.
“It looks exactly like the one Mother used to prepare, Mrs Reynolds.”
“Well, Mrs Darcy has worked very hard to make it exactly as per Lady Anne’s recipe.” Mrs Reynolds smiled before exiting the study.
“Oh.” Darcy turned his head to smile at his wife. “You keep surprising me,” he murmured as he took the plate she was offering him. Most of the time, pleasantly.
He took a bite of the cake and closed his eyes. Elizabeth waited with bated breath as he chewed ever so slowly.
“How is it?”
He opened his eyes, and the golden flecks in them and the delight on his face told their own tale. “Why do you not taste it yourself?” he asked huskily before offering her the piece on his fork across the table.
“Hmmm.” She, too, closed her eyes and savoured the taste. It was a much larger bite than she would have taken for herself, and it left a dusting of sugar icing on her lips.
“It is delicious, even if I say so myself. I hope it is like how your….” Elizabeth broke off when she saw his flushed face. He was staring at her in the oddest manner, his eyes blazing gold at her, just like the day he had lost to her in that chess game. “Is something wrong?” she asked hesitantly.
Yes! Something is definitely wrong, Elizabeth. I have always considered myself a civilised man, but right at this very moment I want to drag you to my room and have my way with you like a damned savage, after I have licked away all that sugar!
Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his chair before gesturing vaguely with his hand. “There is sugar all over your lips,” he croaked, closing his eyes with a silent groan when, with an “Oh!” she wiped her lips with her thumb before licking it clean.
He turned his head to look out of the window. “Yes, the cake is delicious Elizabeth, and exactly like how Mother used to make it. I would like to thank you for bringing back such pleasant memories for me.” He released a deep, calming breath before glancing at her again. “If there is any of it left, I would like Garret to have some. He will be here any moment.”
Mr John Garret was the steward at Pemberley. “Oh, of course, I will ask Mrs Reynolds to send some tea and cake for him as well.” Elizabeth rose from her chair and left with a smile of farewell.
Darcy waited for a few moments after she left before hurrying out of his study and up to his bedchamber.
He was relieved to find it empty. “At least Banes is not here this time to see me make a fool of myself,” he mumbled as he hurriedly splashed the cold water in the basin on his face and neck.
He had just picked up a towel to dry himself when the door to his chamber opened, and Banes came in with Darcy’s newly cleaned Hessians.
There was a long silence in which Darcy and his valet studied each other. Had he been his calm, collected self, Darcy would have requested for a change of cravat with his usual reserve. Alas, here was a man embarrassed and annoyed beyond measure with the circumstances.
“It was quite hot in the study.” He found himself explaining while he dried his face.
Banes’ lips quivered, as if to clarify that it was a cool April day in Derbyshire, but all he said was, “Of course, Mr Darcy,” before bringing a fresh cravat to replace the soiled one.
Darcy went to sit in a chair with as much dignity as he could muster. He had wished for a little time before having that all-important discussion with Elizabeth. He had been granted his wish with almost a vengeance. That is why they say, be careful of what you wish for.
∞∞∞
Lord Ashleigh’s estate and Matlock were both around an hour”s journey from Pemberley, the former to its east and the latter to its west. The next day, the Darcys reached Ashleigh Manor around teatime. Elizabeth was pleased to see that the Earl of Matlock, the Countess, and Emmaline had already arrived. Except for the Viscount and Jennifer, all members of Lord Matlock’s family were expected to be present, even Minerva and Lord Stanhope.
Just after tea, Lord Stanhope, Minerva, Colonel Richard and Major Bramwell arrived together from London in the Stanhopes’ carriage. Major Bramwell’s inclusion in Lord Ashleigh’s party suggested to Elizabeth that even if the major was not a rich man, he was a well-connected one and the fact might be helpful for Emmaline if she and the major could finally come to an understanding.
She had not seen Minerva since that fateful day in Matlock House and had often wondered since then how that despairing young woman was faring. So, when she met Minerva as they all came downstairs for the evening festivities, she was surprised and pleased to notice that although the sadness in her eyes had not completely disappeared, the elder Fitzwilliam sister appeared much calmer than previously. More surprisingly there seemed to be a better understanding between her and her husband. In fact, the man rarely left his wife’s side. It was apparent that things had changed since that day in Matlock House, but how that change had come about remained a mystery. That the reconciliation was of a recent duration became apparent when even Lady Matlock appeared surprised by the changed circumstances.
Another group of guests had arrived at the same time as the Stanhopes. Unfortunately, they had not engendered any pleasant feelings in Elizabeth. It was Lady Stalbridge, her friend Mrs Worthing, and a tall, stooping gentleman whom Elizabeth later came to know was Lord Beresford. That the two women had their chambers allocated in the same guest wing as hers and Fitzwilliam’s was a matter of further aggravation and Elizabeth tried her best to ignore it. For a brief moment, she did wonder why the two ladies always appeared to travel without their spouses, then put away the pesky women and their affairs from her mind. Had she known the reason why Letitia Hawkins had inveigled an invitation to the party using Lord Beresford’s friendship with Lord Ashleigh’s eldest son, she would not have been so sanguine.
∞∞∞
After the celebratory dinner, it was disclosed that the evening festivities were to consist of a concert by Lady Ashleigh and the celebrated London pianist, Johann Baptist Cramer. Lady Ashleigh was an extremely talented musician, who, had she been a man, could easily have become a concert pianist. While she could not perform professionally, her proud husband had ensured that she continued to exhibit her art by arranging private concerts and performances. It appeared that for their twenty-fifth anniversary the doting man had decided to gift his wife a concert with one of the more famous pianists in London.
The performances were about to start, and Elizabeth sat together with Lady Matlock and Georgiana. She was amused to note that as was their wont, Emmaline and Major Bramwell had somehow managed to get seated away from their relatives. Elizabeth was not sure which one of them ensured it, but they tarried just enough for the empty seats next to Georgiana to be taken before approaching. With identical apologetic grimaces they then made their way towards the available seats at the back.
For one amused moment she wondered if they even cared that they were really not fooling anyone with their charade. Involuntarily her eyes sought her husband to see if he had noticed. He was standing with Colonel Fitzwilliam, nursing a flute of wine in his hand. She found him staring right back at her with a raised eyebrow. As soon as their eyes met, his lips quirked up in a knowing smile.
Just as Elizabeth had been observing Emmaline and her shenanigans, she and her husband had been under Lady Stalbridge’s observation. Her nails dug in her hands as she noticed that silent conversation and the intimate smile. It was insupportable that the arrogant Mr Darcy should be enjoying his life after repeatedly humiliating her! It now seemed very essential to wipe that pleased smile off his supercilious face for a very long while.
For the next few hours, Mr Cramer and Lady Ashleigh enthralled their audiences with many delightful performances, some together and some solo, and when the evening came to an end most of the audience was left spellbound with emotion.
That night Elizabeth retired for the night with a song in her heart. While some of it was the effect of the lovely musical evening, most of it was due to the fact that she was now free—free to make her apology to her husband and to tell him of her deep love for him. Yes, she was now ready to confess her heart because she had finally understood what Aunt Gardiner had said to her. He might or might not love her as yet, but it was only a man who cared deeply who could forgive such insults and cruelty as she had meted out to him.
It was as she was still deciding whether to speak to him here in Ashleigh Manor or wait until they reached Pemberley that she fell asleep.
∞∞∞
The next day, after a leisurely breakfast, the guests at Ashleigh Manor were offered the choice of visiting the ruins of a five hundred-year-old castle right there in the grounds of Lord Ashleigh’s estate. Except for Georgiana, who was keen to get some tips from Mr Cramer, all the young women from the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families were keen for a visit.
At the appointed time, when Elizabeth, Emmaline, and Minerva came out to join the other guests interested in the excursion, they found only Major Bramwell present there from their party. Elizabeth looked around for her husband, who, at breakfast, had agreed to join her for the outing. She found him on one of the terraces of the large manor house, deep in conversation with Lord Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Lord Stanhope.
As she was deciding whether to wait for him or not, Major Bramwell solved her dilemma.
“Mr Darcy asked us to go ahead, he and the others would be joining us in a little while.”
So, it was that a group of fifteen young people started their trudge to the old castle ruins. Although they all started their walk together, Emmaline and Major Bramwell soon separated from Elizabeth and Minerva by walking a little faster than them.
Elizabeth was wracking her brains to search for a safe topic to converse with her companion when they were suddenly joined by Lord Beresford. Elizabeth was happy to have him join them. Not only did he relieve her of the necessity to think up a topic, but he also had the good sense not be accompanied by the shrew and her satellite. He turned out to be a garrulous man who loved talking about himself and his concerns and by the time they reached the ruins she and Minerva both knew that he had an estate in Wiltshire, and that he had been at Oxford with Lord Ashleigh’s son and heir. He was mad about horses and horse racing and had lost a fair amount of money on a horse just a se’nnight ago.
She was glad that they arrived at the ruins just then, and Lord Beresford’s attention was claimed by another young woman, for Elizabeth had no interest in the young lord’s praises about his new tailor, Weston.
A little while later, Elizabeth and Minerva found that they were the only two exploring the ruins together, the rest of their group had disappeared here and there behind the broken walls of the castle in smaller groups of twos and threes.
Elizabeth looked around with interest at the ruins of the pale stone arches. As per the history detailed by Lord Ashleigh, the castle was plundered during a skirmish between warring soldiers around 1460. She was not able to decide if the assault had been very ferocious or if nature was the culprit, but there was very little shelter, and the roof had caved in over most of the ruins. Strolling through the remains of broken stone pillars, moss covered walls, and an uneven floor of pitted stone, Elizabeth found it difficult to imagine that once these remains had housed the majestic castle, the painting of which Lord Ashleigh had shown them before they had started on their excursion.
Walking through a dusty corridor, the two women arrived at the ruins of what appeared to be a kitchen in a more or less unharmed condition.
However, before they could enter the open doorway, they heard Emmaline’s voice raised in frustration. “Can you not consider that money as a loan, for heaven’s sake. Return it when you can, or better still, tie it up in a trust for any or all daughters that we might have. You…”
The sudden silence from inside the kitchen made the two young women in the doorway exchange wide eyed glances. Then as one, they slowly traced their steps back the way they had come.
Once they were safely away from the kitchen, Minerva said with a laugh in her voice, “Whenever Emmy really wants something, she goes after it with a single-minded determination that one can only admire. The poor major does not stand a chance.”
Elizabeth turned her head to smile at her companion. “Hmm. I too have been wondering how long he will hold up against the force of nature that is our Emmaline.” She paused for a moment to glance back at the kitchen then added mischievously, “From the sounds of it, it appears that he has finally given up.”
Minerva chuckled at that. “I hope so because I believe they will be good for each other.”
Before they could discuss anything further, they were joined by Darcy and Lord Stanhope who came hurrying down a dusty corridor.
“Ah, Beresford said that we might find you here,” Lord Stanhope said, then looked around the damp stone walls with distaste. “Ah… have you ladies explored enough? I am sorry to have to say this, but these moss-covered walls and this damp smell makes me quite uncomfortable.”
“I think we have seen all that we wanted,” Elizabeth said even as she looked enquiringly at Minerva. “Yes, I am quite ready to return,” Minerva agreed then walked ahead to loop her hand around her cousin’s arm. “I would like to speak to you, Darcy,” she said quietly.
Elizabeth saw her husband nod before he asked, “Where is Emmaline?”
“We are right behind you, Darcy,” Emmaline’s gay voice called out from behind them.
Darcy looked searchingly at his younger cousin. “We are going back to the manor house. Are you two coming?”
“Yes, we are quite done here.” Emmaline’s voice was happy, excited.
For a moment Darcy’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I am very happy to hear that,” he said wryly then looked at Elizabeth. “Shall we?” At her nod, the three couples started on their way back.
∞∞∞
They soon separated in pairs. Emmaline and Major Bramwell were in the lead, followed by Darcy and his cousin, and then Elizabeth and Lord Stanhope.
Elizabeth was not very sure what to say to the man by her side. Usually, she had no trouble striking up a conversation with a stranger of any sex, however the grief Lord Stanhope had caused his wife had given Elizabeth a distaste of the man.
“I… I suppose Darcy told you about our troubles?” Lord Stanhope asked hesitantly when the silence between them stretched awkwardly.
Elizabeth decided to be honest. “No, my husband has not said anything about your… troubles. But I was at Matlock House the day Lady Minerva came and… talked about the... er situation with her mother.”
Lord Stanhope flushed. “Sometimes I think that I was afflicted by a sort of madness which caused me to be totally bereft of any sense. It was Darcy who made me realise how foolish and cruel I was being.”
“Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth asked in astonishment.
“Yes, he had come to visit us just before he left London for Pemberley, and I believe at this very moment Minerva is thanking him for his help.”
“Oh!” There was a moment’s silence in which Elizabeth tried to tell herself that she should not be asking such intimate details from a near stranger. But he is the one who initiated the conversation. Ultimately her curiosity proved stronger than her restraint.
“Uh… would you mind telling me how Fitzwilliam helped you?
“When he came to our house that day, we were in an uproar. Cecy, my four-year-old daughter, had fallen down on her shoulder and dislocated it. She was in so much pain and our doctor was out on a visit… and unable to come.”
“Oh! How terrible for your little daughter and both of you as well,” Elizabeth said softly.
“You know, Mrs Darcy, what is more terrible than your own suffering?” Elizabeth took it as the rhetorical question it was and waited for him to explain, which he did very soon.
“It is the helplessness of not being able to stop the suffering of your child, someone who looks up to you with all the confidence that you will help them… and then you find that you cannot. That is the most terrible feeling. Poor Cecy kept crying for me to help and I could not.”
Lord Stanhope had to take a deep breath before he could continue. “And then Darcy came and asked me to hold my Cecy tightly and… and… he put back her shoulder. It was a painful process.…” He swallowed hard. “I do not know how to put back a shoulder, and the truth is, I could not have done so even had I known.”
“I hope your daughter is well now?”
“Yes, she is. The doctor said that Darcy did a fabulous job.”
“I am glad,” Elizabeth said, feeling puzzled as to what his daughter’s injury had to do with his problem with his wife.
“Darcy stayed with us until everything had settled. When he was leaving, I thanked him for helping Cecy. I-I was upset by the whole experience, and I suppose I cried…”
“Hmm. That is quite understandable, I suppose.”
“Your husband then said something to me that I will never forget. He said, I think now you understand a father’s pain and helplessness. Imagine how helpless my uncle must be feeling today. Put yourself in his place and think how you would feel if it was your daughter who was suffering like Minerva.”
“Oh!”
“I had just experienced the helplessness; I did not have to imagine anything. It finally got through my thick skull that what I was doing was hurtful and dishonest and… cruel. And it did not matter that many of my friends indulge in such behaviour. It does not make it right.”
“Well, I am truly glad that things between you and Minerva are now well,”
He gave a rueful smile. “They are not truly ‘well’. I suppose I hurt her too much for things to go back to as they were before… but yes, I am trying to win back her trust.”
“Hmm.” As Elizabeth considered what her husband had told Lord Stanhope, one thing was clear to her: whatever the state of their marriage, she had no need to fear that her husband would ever behave like the man walking by her side. All of a sudden, it became imperative that she tell him about her changed feelings immediately; she had already wasted too much time on her foolish insecurities and vacillations.
She looked ahead to call out to Fitzwilliam but observed that he and Minerva were quite some way ahead of them. She had just opened her mouth to ask Lord Stanhope to walk a little faster when there was a commotion from behind, and Lord Beresford came running. It appeared one of their party had fainted, and a reviving sip of brandy was in order. Luckily for them all, Lord Stanhope was carrying his hipflask, and they walked back to offer it to the afflicted.
It was nearly half an hour later that Elizabeth, along with Lord Stanhope and Lord Beresford, entered the garden in Ashleigh Manor where the guests were enjoying a sumptuous buffet.
She searched for her husband but was unable to locate him. She did observe Colonel Fitzwilliam talking to his mother and that Lord Beresford had found his way to the side of Mrs Worthing. Lady Stalbridge was nowhere to be found.
Recalling that Fitzwilliam was accompanying Minerva, Elizabeth looked for her and found Emmaline instead.
“Emmaline, have you seen Fitzwilliam?”
“Yes, he was here a while ago and was asking for you. No one had seen you at the time, and he was planning to look for you in your chamber in case the walk had tired you out or some such.”
“Hmm. I will go and check.” Elizabeth turned to go, but suddenly Lord Beresford came and stopped her on the pretext of asking for some information about Hertfordshire, and he wasted nearly ten minutes discussing the places he could visit if he went there.
It took some rudeness from Elizabeth to get herself free from him.