Chapter Twenty-Three
The first months of Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth were filled with a growing sense of delight.
He had noticed this sensation the most strongly after he began to sleep in her bedroom every night.
Elizabeth was generally delighted to be with him.
Elizabeth liked conversation with him.
She drew him out, found ways to make him speak, and in turn he found it easy to listen to her talk about her days and little interests in a way he never had with Mary.
And even when he revealed aspects of his character that she did not like, she replied with annoyance and amusement rather than cold resentment and clear unhappiness.
By the time they were preparing to return south for the Season, Darcy found himself in an odd mood.
He was happy.
Happier than he could ever remember himself being.
There was still lingering fear that was confused and unreasonable, and that occasionally arose: it could not last; she would see what Mary had seen; she would become miserable.
But the number of times he had that thought dwindled every week.
A few days before they set off for London, Darcy received a surprising letter from his man of business.
“Well, that is that.” He frowned at the paper as he folded it and laid it beside his plate.
Elizabeth put down her coffee. “What is the matter?”
“It is, on the whole, a good thing.” He picked up the letter again and tapped it on the table. “Yes. On the whole, I am quite pleased.”
“That is a rather annoying habit you have,” Elizabeth replied, her eyes dancing as she smiled at him, “of on occasion extensively describing your thoughts on a matter before telling me what the matter is.”
Recalling that Georgiana had been strongly affected by Wickham, Darcy addressed himself as much to his sister as to his wife.
“Mr. Wickham has fled the country. He boarded a ship bound for the United States—he thought this an efficacious way to avoid the consequences of my prosecution against him for slander.”
“Oh.” Georgiana pressed a hand against her mouth. “I hope he will be happy. I hope he finds a place where he might turn to good.”
“Whatever the truth of his fate, we should imagine that he will change for good—perhaps he will become a fanatic preacher,” Elizabeth said. “I believe they are most popular in America.”
“Do not laugh about him,” Georgiana said. “You know that he was my friend at a time when I was lonely.”
“I would not hurt you for a thousand guineas,” Elizabeth replied. “And I shall not forget again that even though my brief memories of him are wholly unpleasant, Mr. Wickham is not a wholly unpleasant man.”
“No one is,” Darcy said. “We are all a mix of good and evil, but some of us have better fortune in the mix. Wickham could give a good sermon. Entirely insincere, but excellent. That is why my father meant him for the church.”
Georgiana sighed. “I am happy that he is out of the country. I shall feel safer knowing that there is no chance that you two will meet again.”
“That pleases me as well,” Elizabeth said.
“I would not fight a duel with him. I have said as much,” Darcy replied.
“That is not what I meant,” Elizabeth said. “I rather fear that he would annoy you and make you unhappy. He already has.”
Despite his love for Pemberley, his love for Derbyshire, and his love for his duties and pleasures at home, Darcy found himself eager to go south because Elizabeth was.
She was yearning to see her family at Longbourn again.
The plan was for them to stay at Netherfield for a little more than a week before going to London.
Bingley had already gone to town, but he had freely offered the use of his home to Darcy. In his letter, Darcy’s friend had seemed irritated by the way his sister had pestered him into settling himself in town at the earliest opportunity during the Season.
After reading this letter to Elizabeth, Darcy said, “I value Bingley greatly, but I can scarce understand him at times. His sister is fully capable of finding a friend in London to stay with if she is so eager to be in town. I would never alter my plan on such grounds if I was strongly attached to it. And if I was sufficiently unfixed in my plans that I left early at the urging of my sister, I would certainly not complain about the destruction of those plans.”
Elizabeth laughed. “One must always account for differences in personality. But I think Mr. Bingley is good for you, as odd as the pairing is.”
“He is. The best of friends—though I hope now that I am married again, he will not be so eager to force me to dance.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I certainly hope not, for it will be my duty to force you to dance enough that you do not look like a bear prowling the edges of a room. You used to look as though you might rip every young lady of a pretty persuasion apart. And not in the delightfully sinful way a rake might rip a pretty girl apart, but in the way of an actual bear.”
“That was a strained metaphor,” Darcy replied. “Surely I can sometimes stand about glaring at the crowd without terrifying every chit in her first Season. You would not deny me that.”
“No! No. I would never wholly deny you that pleasure. I demand it. I wish you to glare at the crowd for at least one dance out of three. Perhaps even one in two. Elsewise I would lose half the reputation I have as the bear tamer who married you. You must dance just enough that everyone is impressed with how sociable I have made you—but only,” she added, “if you are not truly opposed to the practice.”
Darcy bowed to her. “For a kiss from your coral lips, I might hazard even half a dozen dances in a single night.”
“Oh my. I had not known my charms extended so far.” Elizabeth pressed her hand against her chest and looked coquettishly up at him from under her lashes in a way that made him eager for the evening. “Half a dozen!”
Darcy of course was happy that they could stay at Netherfield rather than Longbourn.
He had rather hoped to not be in the closest of confines with Mrs. Bennet. The plan he had made for when Mr. Bennet died—which seemed more and more of an if—was to place Mrs. Bennet and at least some of her daughters in a pleasant cottage that was a ten-minute walk from Pemberley House.
A little bit of distance could be a very good thing.
But if Mrs. Bennet wished to remain settled in Hertfordshire near her sister, friends, and childhood memories, Darcy would be quite willing to rent a cottage for her wherever in the neighbourhood took her fancy.
Once their carriage crossed the county boundary into Hertfordshire, Elizabeth began to fidget with delight, look around with smiles, and show every sign of eagerness to be home.
She pointed out the turns towards great houses and churches that she had visited with Mr. Bennet as a child. Then they came close enough that she had travelled about the area several times a year, and then they were in Elizabeth’s own home territory.
Seemingly forgetting that all of them had been in Hertfordshire before, Elizabeth eagerly named every property she recognised, telling stories of the inhabitants, the houses, the fields, cows, and stiles.
They went directly to Longbourn as Elizabeth was impatient to see her family—Darcy knew that this meant her eldest sister and Mr. Bennet more than the others. The carriages would be sent on to Netherfield for the servants to unpack their possessions and prepare their rooms.
As soon as they started up the drive, the crowd of Elizabeth’s family came out into the cold to greet them, and as soon as the door was opened by the footman, Elizabeth leapt from the carriage without waiting for Darcy to help her.
“Papa! Papa!”
She threw her arms around her father, who stood with a thick cane and a bright smile.
“There, there, dear girl. I told you I would not die.”
“Oh, Papa! You know you cannot make promises like that.”
Mr. Bennet laughed.
He shook hands with Darcy and Georgiana while Emily returned to her shy ways, hiding behind Elizabeth’s skirts.
Elizabeth’s father looked like an odd mix of weakness and good health. He was well on his way to being a thin man, when before he had been plump. It seemed to be a vigorous thinness, though, and not the unhealthiness of a final illness.
His colour was good; his smile was bright. He walked quickly but with a leg that dragged behind him, and the use of the cane to support himself was clearly necessary for any speed, but with its help he appeared quite spry.
“Do not fret about my loss of fat,” Mr. Bennet said when Elizabeth asked about how thin he was.
“A reducing diet. Dreadfully dull, but I would rather be able to keep reading books for a few years more than eating roast joints every evening for a few months. I have kept myself a little hungry nearly every day since you left. I have also taken to walking even more than you do. At least two hours every day, by the clock. I feel quite good, except the deuced arm and leg refuse to improve any further. I may always need the cane.”
“You look resigned to it,” Elizabeth said.
“I was blessed. The outcome could have been far worse.”
Mrs. Bennet moaned. “Doctor Cliff still says that he might have another attack any day and that it could take him off in an instant. Why did the doctor not just tell me that it was impossible?”
“Because that would not have been true,” Elizabeth said a little tartly.
“I am happy that you are back,” Jane said to Elizabeth, fiercely hugging her sister.
“And you will come with us to London? You promised that you would. And then to visit Pemberley in the summer, for at least a few months?”
“Certainly London,” Jane said. “There is nowhere that I would like to be more. But as for Pemberley…we shall see.”
“We shall see?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I dearly hope to have you. And Papa—you look well enough to travel.”
“I dare say I am. But if I am to go to Pemberley, I mean to walk the whole way. That would at last impress Cliff with my dedication to the course of exercise he has set for me.”
Mr. Bennet said this in a grand manner that Darcy thought was a joke.
It was a happy party.
Georgiana and Elizabeth’s sister Mary sat together to play the pianoforte as soon as they entered the drawing room; Lydia and Kitty asked Darcy whether he could throw a ball at Netherfield since it had been at least a month since Bingley had held one.
“Not being my own house,” Darcy said, “I must decline the suggestion. I am still a guest, even if the master is absent.”
“La! That would be such a joke,” Lydia replied.
“And yet, I still shall not do it.”
“That is so dull of you!” Lydia replied. “And why are you taking Jane to London when I could have so much more fun?”
“No.” Mr. Bennet looked up from a conversation with Emily, who had overcome her shyness and was eagerly talking to him. “No grand society until you are at least seventeen.”
“I shall never marry before the rest of my sisters if you are like that.”
“I do not want you to marry before them—yes, Miss Emily, we certainly will play draughts with your father again. I dare say he will lose admirably with your advice.”
Emily giggled. “Hurrah! I like it when he loses.”
“Why do you not want Lydia married as soon as she might?” Mrs. Bennet asked her husband. She turned to Darcy. “If only you could settle some little dowry on her, I am sure there would be men keen to marry a girl so happy and lively.”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “It is not Mr. Darcy’s place to provide dowries for all of us. It is enough that we shall be secure no matter what happens.”
The strain in Elizabeth as she talked to her mother was quite different from how she behaved in the domestic circle at Pemberley. It gave Darcy an unhappy feeling.
He hated to remember that she had married him because she had been in a desperate situation and her only alternative was Mr. Collins.
“If,” Darcy said, “there were an eligible gentleman and the connection would be good for us all, or if there was a great deal of affection, I would be willing to put something forward. I might talk to Mr. Bennet about the matter. But your youngest is still too young. Perhaps I could make some promise for Jane or Mary.”
“Oh, why bother with Jane? No one would ever marry her.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together. “Mama, do not bother Mr. Darcy about this.”
His wife remained in poor spirits for some time following this conversation. It was only after she went into the study with Mr. Bennet for an hour to talk in private with her father that she came out in a better mood.
As soon as they were alone that evening, Darcy went to kiss Elizabeth, but she drew away and sat down with a frown. “My mother left me upset. She does that so easily. I had forgotten why we had married. It was all about money.”
Darcy sat next to her and took her hand. “I should not have…made you accept me in such a way.”
Elizabeth looked up at him with an anxious expression. “What do you mean?”
“You had no choice but to marry me. And I took advantage of your fear for your father and your sister and the future. You would not have tied yourself to me otherwise.”
That anxiety in her eyes faded away. She looked at him steadily and then slowly smiled at him in that manner that made it seem as though the whole world was a good place. She put her hand on his face. “I had hoped you had mostly stopped thinking of yourself in such a way.”
Darcy held her palm against his cheek, soaking in the warmth of her eyes and smile.
“But you have reminded me that matters were not quite what I recalled at first. It was not about money at all. I could have accepted Mr. Collins. But you fascinated me. Greatly. You still do. I knew I would either be happy or miserable if we married, and so far it has certainly been happy—” She broke off, and her expression became strained once more.
“You are not concerned that I have not yet become with child?”
Darcy blinked at the question. “We have been married less than three months. Such concerns are quite early.”
“But what if I never become with child? Or if it is always a girl, like with my mama?”
“I dearly hope to have children with you because you are a wonderful mother and I want another child. But if the Almighty does not bless us in that way, we have been greatly blessed in other ways. As for an heir…” Darcy waved his hand about vaguely.
“You know that I deeply hope for a son. But by marrying you I have done my duty to the estate. My second cousin is still a Darcy. Pemberley will be managed. And I have far, far more than enough money outside the estate that those I love and care for will never need to be afraid for themselves.”
Elizabeth looked down. “I fear making you unhappy. When Mama asked you to just give her money, I felt guilty. I felt sick. I felt as though I had only married you for money. But it really was more. It always was that…there is something very good about you, very admirable. I did not understand at the time, not until I had lived with you for so long. But I wanted to know you better.”
They kissed, and a deeper sense of knowing that Elizabeth was happy with him settled in Darcy.