Chapter Eleven

Chapter Ten

On the morning of the second day of 1812, Darcy awoke well before Elizabeth, who had been tired the entire previous day as a result of them both having danced together for hours at the ball they'd held after the bells rang in the new year. He kissed her softly on the forehead, and she stirred and started to push herself up on her arm, looking at him in the dimness, with the dawn barely peeking around the curtains.

He now kissed her on the mouth, and with a smile said, "Return to sleep, Elizabeth."

She yawned, nodded, stretched in an enticing way, and then buried her face in the pillow that Darcy had been using. It made him smile with a great tenderness.

Darcy quickly returned to his room where he donned his slippers and his embroidered heavy banyan robe, he then softly stepped out and across the halls to his study.

The view of his park, stretching out beneath the window, was fabulous.

He leaned back in his seat and just stared at it for twenty minutes without much thought. He had a need to have some privacy for his own thoughts, as the past week had been full of conversation. He enjoyed such with his relations, but it was draining to need to be always present, always performing for others, to always need to be Darcy , and never allowed to be simply himself.

The New Year's ball was sufficient to remove one worry he'd had.

Whatever reception Elizabeth would receive in town, she had enchanted his neighbors.

And her husband.

For a pleasurable minute Darcy pulled up how she'd looked, the dark hair, her curls, the dress she'd worn, one that he had never seen before. The way that her bosom bounced during the faster dances, her delighted smile, and the way that she'd seemed to be wholly at home amongst the crowd, smiling, making the other women laugh and feel at home, the way she'd been… simply a good hostess.

Lord Ravenswood had told him, shaking his hand in a private word as he departed, "Darcy, you chose well. She presides over this room as though she was born to do so. A great many of us were shocked to hear of your marriage, but I think we all see now that you knew what you were about."

"I begin to think," Darcy said with more honesty than Ravenswood likely realized, "that I did."

That night, despite how late the hour was, as soon as they could depart and leave Viscount Hartwood to shoo off the last few of the guests, the two of them had worked off each other's clothes and fallen into Elizabeth's bed with a delightful need.

She'd kept looking at him through the whole night in such a way.

And all the other matters progressed as well as he could hope.

Elizabeth and Georgiana had become dear friends: They practiced at the piano for an hour or two each day, and eagerly played duets together each night. They now were Lizzy and Georgie to each other, and Georgiana joined Elizabeth on most of her long morning walks.

Lady Susan and Lady Matlock sometimes also joined the two for part of the walk, turning in at a convenient place to return to the estate, but neither of them enjoyed the cold. Further, they were more horsewomen than walkers, while Elizabeth insisted that if she was not to be stuffed into a carriage, she wished to stay on the ground.

Darcy found himself filled with satisfaction and happiness.

She was perfect at her role.

He'd had the pleasure of seeing Elizabeth be greeted genially by the wives of his neighbors, and hearing compliments to her passed on through the medium of their husbands. And this promised to improve her comfort and happiness, as those feminine friendships which women found vital to their wellbeing were in the process of formation.

While the relationship between Elizabeth and his family was not without tension, they were more polite, and more friendly to Elizabeth than he had feared.

Darcy found that he no longer dreaded the call he'd promised to make on "the tradesmen" as Elizabeth's aunt and uncle had come to be referred to when they rose in conversation over the dinner table. He knew, of course, that the event would be horrid. But there were a great many unpleasant things in life, and if he could make Elizabeth a little happy, that happiness would be a good recompense for a great deal more effort than tolerating Mrs. Bennet's brother and his wife for the spare hour or two.

When the dawn had fully risen Darcy went out for a ride, wanting a little more time for himself before joining his family once more. When he came back, Lady Matlock approached him as he was coming back to the house from the stables, "Your Mrs. Darcy is not half so bad as I feared she would be."

"Does that make her one quarter or one tenth as bad?" Darcy said with a smile. "I have come to think of her as not bad at all."

"And you feared that she would be?" His aunt looked at him with that piercing look. "You have yet to explain the matter of how the engagement occurred."

"It was a quick decision, but a decision," Darcy said. "And I am beginning to believe there is a virtue in such fast decisions."

"Ah."

When Lady Matlock made a humming sound, but did not say anything further, Darcy asked, "Might you venture to tell me what this indicates?"

"That you are in love with her. I am glad to see it."

Darcy flushed.

And he realized it was true. He was in love with her.

"Of course I am not." Lady Matlock shrugged. "So my opinion of her can hardly be expected to be so high as yours is at present."

"And what might you have to say against her?" Darcy said with a mix of defiance and anxiety.

"She does not listen to advice, and she is far too certain of her own opinions. Rather similar to you."

Darcy raised his eyebrow.

"She is a proud woman, and she greatly dislikes the notion that we all see her as having married you for the material advantage of doing so, when that must have been some part of what motivated her."

He knew that, but he did not like to think about it.

That was not a thought to give Darcy any warmth. It happened less often now, but he often saw that Elizabeth was not wholly happy about their marriage. But she was learning to see him and his real worth now that they had spent so much time close together.

He at least honestly believed that she was coming to desire him as much as he desired her.

"But the reason I approached you is that she is determined to make you appear ridiculous about clothing. It will be talked about by everyone in my circle, and I'll hear of it ten times if I hear of it once."

"What do you mean?"

"She plans to rewear every dress twice a week — it is not done. Simply not done."

"She is—"

"Do not try to defend her with some notion that she is being frugal, making her own choices, or being anything but ridiculous. I believe even she knows that she is ridiculous about the matter."

"I will speak to her."

"Especially if we are to have her presented to the queen, she must make a proper picture. To wear the same two or three dresses to every ball… especially when they are so cheap. You must see that it would be insupportable."

"I do."

"Talk to her. Order her if you must. Convince her to dress according to her position, and not this… this… fantasy that she might be taken as caring nothing for your wealth."

"She is not a fool."

Lady Matlock pinched his cheek, which was something she hadn't done for many years. "Perk up, dear boy. She may not be a treasure, but she is not dross either. Solid iron, workable, hard to shape, and not much of an ornament. Whatever foolishness actually convinced you to marry her didn't damage us badly — just convince her to dress decently."

After dinner that evening Darcy asked Elizabeth to step aside from the main group. Recalling that he'd been told once, probably by Bingley, about how it was best to begin a speech that would include an unpleasant topic with a compliment, Darcy said, "I have been delighted to see how much time you've been spending with Georgiana."

"Oh, she is a sweet dear!" Elizabeth replied. "Once one has gotten her to actually speak in the first place, there is nothing not to love in her."

Darcy briefly wondered what Elizabeth would think if she knew that Georgiana had nearly eloped with Mr. Wickham. He shook the thought away. "I was talking with Lady Matlock this morning, and—"

Elizabeth groaned loudly.

Darcy smiled. "She suggested that you have the serious flaw of not listening so often to her advice as she wishes you to."

As he'd hoped, the wry way he phrased that made Elizabeth chuckle. But then she sighed. "I suspect from how you have begun this conversation that I am not following her advice as often as you might wish me to."

"Ah." Darcy tapped his fingers on his leg. "Let us rather say she convinced me that there is one particular point on which the advice you disregard is in fact correct."

Elizabeth pressed her lips tightly together.

Darcy said, "I hardly understand why you have refused to spend so much on clothing as you ought, and—"

"I am spending exactly what I ought to spend."

The snap was very unlike Elizabeth.

"While Lady Susan is, possibly, overly concerned with her raiment, my aunt is not. If she thinks you ought to spend more—"

"I will not."

"I am not used to being interrupted as I speak," Darcy replied sharply.

"And I am not used to being told how I ought to dress, as though I were a child and you my mother."

" Why are you resisting this advice?"

Elizabeth did not reply.

She started to tap her foot repeatedly on the carpet as they studied each other.

"I cannot support you if I do not understand."

"Then do not support me. That is your choice. I will not go to her dressmaker, I will not order a thousand dresses for the season, I will not spend more money than I have determined to spend on my clothes. That is my choice, and I am done with it."

"Do you not have enough money? I… what have you spent the funds given to you on? What do you want so much money for?"

Elizabeth did not reply.

"I believe there were seven hundred pounds in the account set aside for your use. That ought to be more than ample for any reasonable purchases. Have you…" Darcy suddenly had a terrible, and likely stupid, suspicion that she had given all of the funds to Mr. Wickham. It was much more likely that she'd given it to her tradesman uncle or towards the dowry of her sisters. "Who did you give the money to?"

"No one. All of your money is right there, in your bank account." She made the word bank sound like a curse. "Forty pounds and change have been spent from it, no more, no less. Write to Mr. Childe to inquire if you doubt me."

She stalked away, and went to stand by one of the windows, and stare out at the snowy night.

Darcy frowned. How had she become so angry? He'd spoken to her with the best of intentions.

Lord Hartwood walked next to him and put his arm familiarly around his shoulder.

With a grunt Darcy shook it off.

"Women," Hartwood said. "One can hardly live with them, but… what is the alternative?"

"Did you have a purpose in speaking to me?"

Hartwood laughed, not unsettled at all by Darcy's poor mood. "Of course I did. You just had an argument with Mrs. Darcy, I imagine."

"You may very well imagine whatever you want."

"Yes, well. Well. I do have an excellent imagination, so perhaps you should not be so generous in your permissions. Be that as it may — this is rather early for unhappiness in paradise. Newlyweds. It is not proper to hate each other until… well at least six months. Most of the happiest persons in the world from my circles waited more than a year before they began to despise each other."

"You mean to say that you, in fact, had no purpose in approaching me," Darcy replied.

"Thought I'd offer you some sage advice as an old married man. Happy even. We still like each other, and we've been married for eight years, have three children, and have not murdered each other more than three times."

"If you had once murdered each other you would not be here."

"It was a joke, coz." Hartwood's eyes sparkled. "A humorous reference to the inevitability of argument. Any case, what was the subject? Maybe I can offer advice."

"I only offered her well-meant advice."

Hartwood winced. "No. No, you must never do that ."

"Why is that—"

"Never offer a woman any advice. Never. They do not want it. If they say they do, discover what they hoped to do before they spoke to you, and tell them to simply do that. If it is a matter which they actually need aid in accomplishing, do it yourself, or claim you have an urgent matter of business a great distance away, and that you will certainly discuss the matter at length as soon as you have returned after a six-month. Offering advice to a woman? No, no, no!"

"Old, wise, and long married though you may be, none of that sounds like a sound policy for happiness in marriage."

Hartwood shook his head in despair. "The young and green do not understand until their hand has been burned more than twice. But tell me, perhaps I am wrong. After all, she was clearly delighted by the advice you gave her. Sound policy. What precisely did you speak of?"

Darcy did not want to be a man who talked to everyone about the difficulties he had with his wife.

He did not even wish to be a man who talked about those difficulties to his closest friends or relations, which Hartwood qualified as. In the end it was only because the subject affected his family as well as himself that Darcy decided to explain the matter to Hartwood. Darcy gestured them over to the corner of the room opposite from where Elizabeth still stood. Elizabeth had been joined by Georgiana, and the two spoke together quietly.

Seeing his sister's growing attachment to Elizabeth still made him feel warm, and it caused much of his annoyance with his wife to melt away.

"Lady Matlock is concerned that Elizabeth has not purchased enough proper clothes, and that she is determined to not buy more, as though she was married to some poor gentleman barely keeping up their state."

"And?"

"I told Elizabeth that she ought to purchase enough dresses to match what is ordinary in our circles."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And you then added that it was of no importance to you what she did about this, and that it did not matter, and that you fully agreed that it was wholly her decision how she dresses herself, but that maybe, if she was feeling particularly kind towards her, she might consider my mother's suggestions, or not, as she will."

Darcy stared at his cousin as though he had grown a third eye. "But I also wish for her to dress appropriately for her station."

"And this is why it is useless, though not dangerous, to give advice to a man such as you…" Hartwood drew himself up and studied the way Darcy was glaring at him. "Maybe a little dangerous."

"Don't you wish for Elizabeth to dress in a manner that will make her a credit to our family?"

" I do not care, and I do not see why I should. Even Susan doesn't care terribly much, she chiefly wishes to convince Mrs. Darcy to persuade you to add shoulder pads to all your coats, and to start wearing gold thread embroidered into your waistcoats."

"I won't."

"Not even if Mrs. Darcy said to you, ‘but don't you think you would impress all your tenants, and make everyone ever so much happier if you just dressed as you ought ?'"

Darcy grimaced. "I understand the argument you are attempting to press, but the situations are wholly different. I am dressing as appropriate to my place in life — if I wished to… wander about Pemberley in the clothes of a simple farmhand it would be… then she would be right to advise me."

"Yes, yes. Let's take that hypothetical. Suppose you decided to dress as a farmhand on the basis of some consideration that strongly motivated you — whether it was an intelligent motivation or not — would you appreciate being told by all and sundry that you must dress properly ?"

"I hope I would not become offended if Elizabeth suggested that the servants and neighbors were talking."

Hartwood's only reply was a raised eyebrow.

"Besides, I would not decide to dress that way."

The raised eyebrow remained.

This is what both frustrated Darcy and pleased him about conversations with his family, they simply did not see the need to treat him with the deference that was his usual reward for his bearing and position.

"It is important."

"Why?"

Darcy struggled to put what he wanted to say into words. He stepped over to the bookcase and pulled two books out, glanced at their title pages, and then put them back in place. Hartwood watched him as he did so. "I do not want her to be sneered at… it hurts me when she is not valued as she ought to be."

"Then tell her that . But also make it clear that no matter how she dresses, you will not be one of those who sneers at her. Make it clear to her your affection will remain unchanged, even if she is made a laughingstock by every haughty matron at Almack's."

"She ought to know that, I would never sneer at her."

Except he had, frequently, sometimes even after they had married.

"Such things bear repeating. Many times. Besides, my mother is ridiculous. No one will raise an eyebrow if Mrs. Darcy dresses with taste, but in a cheaper style — and her taste is decent. Better than what most possess." Hartwood shrugged. "It will be odd if your wife dresses like the wife of a gentleman with a smaller income, but that is not… you are a fool if you pick an argument with her over the matter."

Darcy did not reply, for a while. "It is also my name."

"And maybe, if you are inclined to listen to my advice, ask her why — how a person dresses is an essential matter for them . Mrs. Darcy will resent it if you impose your will on her, especially in this matter. And you'll not succeed if you try to impose too much on her . She has a will of her own."

"I know. I know that. Sometimes to my regret." Hartwood's words reminded Darcy of that late night. Two hours after midnight. Her face, soft, glowing in the candlelight, her lips lifted towards his, and the way he just wanted .

The door bursting open, Mrs. Bennet exclaiming, "Lizzy and Mr. Darcy! Oh my clever girl!"

"What really happened?" Hartwood asked. "What is the basis of the rumors we have heard?"

"I made a severe error of judgement that was contrary to my ordinary character, and after that lapse, when I had returned to my senses, it was too late for me to back away from the choice made then, and all that was left was to carry off the whole as best I could."

"Then carry it off. If you wish to have a happy relationship with your wife, she must believe that you are her chief companion in life, just as she is to be yours."

Lady Susan and Lady Matlock had joined Georgiana and Elizabeth, while Lord Matlock drifted towards Darcy and Hartwood.

Rather than continuing the conversation, Darcy walked towards Elizabeth and the women. She looked at him in a manner that showed that her anger had not been wholly buried.

Darcy found he could not say anything to her.

He was suddenly shy at the thought of saying anything to her. He stood near them awkwardly, as he remembered himself often doing before they were married.

She was so beautiful.

After a minute Elizabeth said archly to him, "Did you come here in all your state to frighten me? I tell you, I rise to any attempts to intimidate me."

Georgiana giggled.

"I certainly did not come to frighten you," Darcy replied, "for I would never wish you to be scared."

That night they came together as ordinary, but with more intensity and need on both their parts. He'd feared that Elizabeth's anger would make her resist him in bed, but her reaction was the opposite.

After they were done, when his panting slowly calmed, and Elizabeth rested her head comfortably on his chest, Darcy asked, "Does it matter to you greatly that you be allowed to make your own choices with regards to your clothes, without any reference to the considerations I suggested earlier?"

"It is."

"Then I'll never say anything more about the matter."

Elizabeth was quiet, and nothing further was said.

After a while she took his hand and squeezed it. Darcy felt a flutter of warmth and an intense feeling of affection for her. Holding hands, they fell asleep .