Chapter Eighteen

Darcy

D arcy stood at the drawing room window and looked outside when the carriage containing Elizabeth Bennet returned. He frowned and turned to Mrs Potts, who was busy polishing the silver.

"Where did Miss Bennet go?"

Mrs Potts looked up and wiped one of the grey strands of hair out of her face. "She went to church."

"Church," he said and grumbled. "I wish she would not. She went to Kympton I suppose?"

"She told me that you informed her interacting with the parish was going to be one of the responsibilities she had once she is Mistress of Pemberley," Mrs Potts protested.

He grumbled under his breath because he knew that he had said exactly that. Though he had meant closer to home in Lambton, not that she should travel to Kympton, where that dratted man was based.

"Yes, I did not think she would go there immediately. It's just the thought of that Wickham having his claws in my family in some way or other vexes me."

"It sounds as though Miss Bennet is very well aware of what Mr Wickham is like." She lowered her voice, her head slightly to one side. "Besides, if you are worried, sir, why did you ever give him the living?"

Darcy opened his mouth to issue a reply, for it was naturally unthinkable for a housekeeper to speak in such a way to her master, but understood that it was in his best interest not to say anything. For one, Mrs Potts did not need to work here. His father had left her a sizable amount so she could retire. She was here to help, and he did not want to alienate her further. Besides, she was correct. He had the option of turning Wickham away when he came to demand his living. He could've offered him payment to go away.

Indeed, he knew one of the only reasons Wickham had even taken the living, despite having never shown any interest in either the posting or religion, was to antagonise Darcy somehow.

He knew that Wickham would find some way to make a profit out of his position, but he didn't know how. He hadn't wanted to spend the energy trying to argue with Wickham over the living at the time, and he hadn't truly cared what he would do with the living. Now, however, knowing that his soon-to-be wife was in the company of that scoundrel, it bothered him.

Outside the carriage door opened and he watched her enter the house. He pulled down his waistcoat, anticipating her arrival in the breakfast room, but instead he heard her shoes click clack across the marble floor before they were swallowed by the carpet leading upstairs.

"You could go after her and wish her a good morning," Mrs Potts said, but he shook his head.

"I think not. We spoke briefly and she did not seem inclined to have any sort of exchange. Our most recent conversation before that did not end very well. I may have said some things she took offense to."

The woman inhaled sharply as though it took her every effort not to chide him. "Then perhaps you want to apologise," she said.

He noted that she had immediately assumed the argument had been his fault which said more about him than her.

"I think I shall leave her be. I shall be in the music room, reading," he said before Mrs Potts could say anything else. He vanished through the doors, closed them partially, and slipped into the chair by the window.

He was well immersed in his book when after about a half an hour or so, he heard cluttering in the next room. A chair was being pulled aside and he looked up. Through the partially open door, he heard Elizabeth's voice.

"Would you have another rag?"

"You really need not do that, miss," Mrs Potts said, but the clattering of a chair and rustling of cutlery told Darcy that Elizabeth would not take no for an answer. Indeed, when he leaned forward and peered through the door's narrow opening, he saw that she was already helping Mrs Potts polish silver.

"I always used to help Hill, our housekeeper, with the silver. I like it. It is satisfying," she said and Mrs Potts let out a burst of laughter.

"Well, if you find it satisfying, I shall not stop you," she said.

"Am I to understand that Mr Lightower has a birthday next week?" Elizabeth asked after a moment.

"Aye, it is," came the reply.

"We have to plan a surprise for him," Elizabeth said.

"Oh, I don't think he has celebrated his birthday in years. His parents are both dead and his brother and sister live far away."

"That is all the more reason we should have a surprise for him. Have the cook go to the market and buy high-quality ingredients for a cake. I have a wonderful recipe I can give her. In fact, if she would like I could even make the cake myself."

"I think not, Miss Bennet," Mrs Potts said with a chuckle. "The mistress of Pemberley does not go down into the kitchen, least of all to speak with the staff. You need not concern yourself with such matters."

"That seems so strange to me. Is it not prudent for the mistress of the house to know the staff? Is it not supposed to be part of my duties to make sure the house runs properly?"

"It is but it ought to go through the housekeeper to ensure you are not overly burdened," she said. ‘It can be difficult to manage a large household."

"I understand but this is hardly a large household," she replied. "We have but three employees who live here, and a small kitchen and gardening staff that is here part of the time. I'll hardly be overburdened. Or are we expected to have more staff?"

There was a brief silence and then Mrs Potts spoke up again. "We will need more staff if this place is to come back to life. Perhaps you could speak to Mr Darcy about it."

"I should not think so. He does not like conversing with me. Indeed, I fear he dislikes me greatly," Miss Bennet said and Darcy's heart clenched when he realised that the mere mention of having a conversation with him made the young woman uncomfortable.

"I am sure he does. Miss, a lovely young woman like yourself who wouldn't like you? Besides, Mr Darcy is not quite himself," she said. "You only need to give him a little time and he will come around."

"I've tried, Mrs Potts. I've really tried. I reached out to him. I've tried to be nice, but he does not seem to have anything to do with me."

"All in good time," she said gently. "Now, about the birthday."

Darcy leaned back and listened as they planned a birthday surprise for Mr Lightower.

That it was his birthday had come as a complete surprise to Darcy which was in itself shameful. The man had done so much for him over the last few years and served in multiple roles, and he had not even remembered that it was his birthday. Once upon a time he had remembered everybody's birthday. He had been certain to give employees tokens of some sort, usually an extra weeks' wages, plus a small gift.

But as the years had gone by, he had forgotten. Pemberley once upon a time had been a wonderful place to work. Now, this was no longer so.

Indeed, it was almost a miracle that Lightower, Cogsworth, and Mrs Potts as well as the other staff were still here. It had taken the arrival of Elizabeth Bennet to make him understand this.

Something else came to his mind. The way she'd just spoken about her desire to be civil to him, to get along—and her belief he did not care for her. Could it be that he'd been wrong and she hadn't pitied him after all?

The woman surely inspired a myriad of thoughts and feelings within him. So much so that he could not focus on his book anymore. Instead, he got up and quietly made his way out of the music room's garden door, leaving the two women to chat together without his eavesdropping.

***

Later that evening, Darcy wandered the gardens of Pemberley, still lost in thought. The guilt he felt for having been so rude to Elizabeth Bennet was beginning to eat away at him, and he knew that the only correct action now would be to apologise to her. Again.

He spotted her then, sitting in the stone porch, her aunt beside her. He had not had much occasion to speak to Mrs Gardiner since she had been confined to her chambers for some while, but this was the opportunity to do so. He pulled his shoulders back and strode across the neatly trimmed lawn towards the women.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet, good evening, Mrs Gardiner. I trust you are well?"

Mrs Gardiner looked up at him with a small smile. Her foot was propped up on a stool, and he wondered how she had got down here. Likely, a servant had assisted her downstairs.

"As well as can be expected, Mr Darcy. But I must say, the physician you sent and your servants have been very accommodating."

"I am glad to hear it. I must apologise, for I do recognise it is entirely my fault that you were injured in the first place. I should not have acted as I did that night, the way I treated your party was simply unconscionable."

The surprise was obvious as the woman blinked and her niece shifted in her seat.

"We all make mistakes, Mr Darcy. And I can appreciate your wishing to make up for yours." She was gracious, more gracious than he deserved. From the corner of his eye, he saw Elizabeth watching him. Her expression was unreadable, but he couldn't blame her for being uncertain about his motivations. He turned to her and cleared his throat.

"And I owe you an apology also, Miss Bennet. I was unnecessarily rude last time we spoke. I trust that you will find it in your heart to forgive me in time."

She said nothing, perhaps taken aback by his sudden apology. Not wishing to prolong the awkwardness, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, not knowing what else to say.

"Well, that is all. I hope you enjoy your evening," he said and hastened away, feeling stupid for having spoken up in the first place. As he reached the door, the gravel crunched behind him, he turned to see her hasten after him.

"Mr Darcy," she said, "I thank you for your apology. However, I do not quite understand what I did to deserve your wrath in the first place. It is fine to apologise, but if I do not know what caused the eruption, I will not know how to avoid it in the future."

Eruption Darcy thought to himself. She thought of him as a dangerous volcano that could blow up at any time, drowning all in its path in fiery lava… This was not the kind of image he had wanted to reflect to the world, but he was very well aware that it was a reputation he had earned.

He scratched his head. "It is difficult for me to talk about my sister in any regard. I understand very well that I opened the door to the conversation when we spoke about Gulliver's Travels," he started, a little uncomfortable as he hadn't expected to have to explain himself. "Also, I cannot help but feel that you pity me. That is what angered me. I do not want to be pitied for my circumstances."

Her forehead creased, and she tipped her head slightly to the side as she examined him.

"I feel badly for anybody who has endured as much loss as you have, the fact that you are separated from your family and that the only people you are close to are your servants. However, I do not think of these feelings as pity, as such, but more as empathy. But if that is not desired, I shall refrain from voicing my opinions and feelings."

Days ago, he would've wished to hear this, but now the idea that she might walk on eggshells around him bothered him. In a way, he liked that she spoke her mind. She was direct and unafraid, qualities he had admired in a person, even before the fire changed him irrevocably.

"That is not what I meant," he said. "I can appreciate empathy for my situation, but the way people look at me, it is often clear there is nothing but pity in their hearts. I suppose I can understand it, given my appearance."

Her reaction took him entirely by surprise, as though she found his statement absurd. "Mr Darcy, I hardly notice your scars. They are not as pronounced as you might think to others. Regardless, I do not pity you. You are a wealthy man with a state that, restored, could be once again the most beautiful in Derbyshire. I would appreciate it if you would not put words in my mouth or interpret my actions in a way to suit you."

Somewhere inside, something broke in that moment. That steely resolve to keep his distance wanted to melt and his heart longed for their circumstance to be different. If they had met sooner, or if the fire hadn't happened, Darcy realised this woman with a heart of gold and a way of making everyone who encountered her like her, would have been exactly the kind of woman he'd wished to court. Alas, that was not the case.

"Very well, Miss Bennet," he replied. "I shall keep this in mind and do my best to honour your wish. Now, would you like to try to dine with me once more? With your aunt, if she is well enough?"

The words surprised him as they came out of his mouth, since he had not planned to issue any such invitation.

"I shall consider it," she said, and then the two parted ways, and Darcy made his way back into the house, more confused than ever.

This young woman had awoken feelings and thoughts in him that had been dormant for so long. She had reminded him of how joyful it was to discuss and debate with somebody, to have someone sit beside you when you ate, to do something as mundane as comment on the flavour of the meal before you…

Could it be that perhaps his cousin was correct, and marrying this young woman was just what he needed?