Chapter Six

Chapter Five

When he'd returned from his business in the City, Darcy was immediately informed that Elizabeth was still out. He went to the drawing room. Long glass-covered bookshelves dominated two of the walls and the third had a great many windows.

He was desperate for the evening to come again.

The nervousness he'd felt around Elizabeth this morning would be gone then, when it was the universally agreed proper time for a husband to go to his wife.

He stalked back and forth glancing, ignoring the flowers, the portraits, the two large fireplaces surrounded by Japanese screens.

Where was she? He missed her.

And was Colonel Fitzwilliam right that she was unhappy?

No, of course not. Elizabeth couldn't be unhappy now that she was his wife. No woman would be.

But…

A little part of him that had never stopped believing that his father loved Wickham more than him, because Wickham was the one who could make him laugh. She must be gleefully spending the money she had gained at the dressmakers and shops… and naturally she would think nothing of her husband left at home.

He stared at the flickering ruddy logs for a long time.

This way of thinking would not help him.

"Hello."

Darcy turned with a start.

Elizabeth stood framed by the door, lovely as a picture. She was beautiful. She met his gaze with a weak smile. If only he could believe she loved him…

Where did that thought come from?

Remembering Colonel Fitzwilliam's advice to talk to her, Darcy stepped up to his wife. "Have you had your luncheon yet?"

"A great many fine tea biscuits," she replied with half a smile, "but no real food."

Darcy rang the bell and called for a light luncheon to be provided, and then the two sat down. "Did you go to the dressmaker Lady Susan advised for you?"

Elizabeth's lips immediately thinned.

There it was, that block between them. Why was she suddenly so unhappy at such a simple question?

After the silence hung to the point it was awkward, Darcy made himself say, "In any case I imagine you ordered a great many dresses."

"Only four," was the slow reply. "That will be enough, I think."

"No, no. You will certainly need far more than that." He suspected he was missing something.

"I might purchase something further from a dressmaker in Derbyshire," her voice was sharp, "once I am settled in the estate and have a better sense of what is needed."

Darcy frowned and sat a bit further from Elizabeth, pushed off by her annoyance.

Then he made himself return and put his hand on hers. "My mother always purchased her dresses in London while she was alive. She said the best dressmakers in London simply have a trifle more than anyone else in the country."

"Your mother was welcome to make her own sartorial choices," Elizabeth said. "I shall make my own."

How hard was it for her to understand? "You are taking her place, and you will be judged by that standard."

"Yes. The daughter of an earl. I will be judged for how well I can stand against the example of a sparkling daughter of an earl. No doubt she was the toast of the season she came out, a creature of such sublime magnificence that seven young louts ended themselves in despair when she at last settled her choice upon your father. I will be found wanting by that standard."

She pulled away from him. As she did, Mrs. North and two of the kitchen maids brought in a collection of trays with their light luncheon.

Elizabeth stared at the trays filled with cold meats, cheeses, breads, and what fruits were available in winter. "I thought that you had ordered a light luncheon."

Darcy found he was not at all hungry, but he poured himself a glass of small beer. "What would you drink?"

Elizabeth shrugged.

Darcy sighed, and picked up a piece of bread, he tilted it from side to side. She was wanting the standard by which they would judge her.

"My family is… important to me," Darcy said slowly. "We share ties of blood and long affection. When we meet over Christmas they will study you. And while there will be matters found wanting, it is better that there be fewer."

Elizabeth poured herself a glass of wine, lifted it up, and then took a long swallow. "I am aware."

"So then will you not buy additional dresses? — did you at least use the dressmaker Lady Susan advised?"

"I did not," she replied stiffly. "As I told you I would, I was received by the dressmaker who my aunt has patronized these several years."

"Then I will take you to Lady Susan's dressmaker tomorrow. You must—"

"I will dress myself as I choose."

"Why can you not just understand my point? That this is of importance."

"Perhaps you ought to have considered that before you entered this marriage you clearly regret."

Darcy felt a flash of hurt. "You are the one who ought to have considered what would be required of you. This is part of your duty — and I do not understand. It cannot be a burden to buy dresses from a famed modiste ."

He did not regret marrying her.

Strange as it was, he did not.

That reminded him of what Colonel Fitzwilliam had advised, that he talk to her. "Did you go to the bookstores? Buy anything interesting?"

"That is my plan for tomorrow now," Elizabeth replied. She fiddled with a piece of sliced ham that she'd placed on her plate, pushing it around in a circle. "I called on my aunt across town."

"The one in Cheapside?"

"Gracechurch Street," was her instant reply.

"That is Cheapside."

"No, it is near Cheapside — oh I do not care." She pushed the plate away from her.

"Your uncle is a tradesman. But of course, you would wish to visit him." Darcy frowned. This was exactly what he had feared. "You went in the carriage I imagine."

"I was told that it would be ridiculous for Mrs. Darcy to walk through London. Though I assure you that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been capable of such an act."

"It is what it is. Nothing to be done." Darcy sighed. "And they are your relations. Just, I'd beg you not to visit too often. They should not expect more notice than is reasonable, and you'll—"

"And how often precisely is reasonable?" Elizabeth had not gone back to her food, and she was quickly drumming her fingers on the arm of the sofa.

"Perhaps…" Darcy shrugged. At what point would he start receiving the scorn of his friends — more scorn — due to the closeness of his wife to her Cit relations. "Not too often? Once more for a short parting visit before we leave, then maybe once a month next time we are in London."

"Ah. Once a month. That is how often I am to see my beloved aunt and uncle? My little cousins. How often I should—"

"Jove! Cousins. How many? I promise, while I will do what is reasonable to promote them, I will not go beyond what is reasonable."

Elizabeth glared at him, her nostrils flared, and her fists clenched.

He rather suspected that he had said the wrong thing.

"I… Elizabeth, it does pain me to see you unhappy in this way. But you must understand that your position has changed while theirs has not. You are no longer Miss Bennet, but you are now Mrs. Darcy, and you must learn to act as such. That is part of what you agreed to take on when you chose to marry me."

"I see," she replied harshly. "And if I do not always remember that I now am too far above my dearest friends to see them more than once a month, what will happen?"

"Are you angry? — Elizabeth, you chose to enter this life. It is part of what is involved."

"So, I must accept the consequences of my choices?"

"I did," Darcy snapped back sharply. "That is why we are married. You brought me in a moment of uninhibited weakness to act contrary to my character and throw away my better judgement, and I was honorable enough that I accepted the consequence."

No reply.

Simultaneously so beautiful and so frustrating. He wanted her more than ever. Desperately. Now he knew what it felt like to be with her, to hold her, kiss her, to make her fully his own.

For a while neither of them directly looked at the other.

Then Elizabeth said hesitantly, "Would you… you might like my aunt and uncle if you met them. Would you perhaps… visit them when I call again?"

Damned woman .

He had made his sentiments upon this point clear. He ought to call on them at some point, to honor the relationship with Elizabeth, but there was no call or need to do so until he returned to London for the season. He would not appear insufficiently respectful of his wife's unwanted relations if he did not run attendance upon them during a busy time when they were only in London for a week.

"I will meet them once when we return to London for the season, but I absolutely refuse to treat them with any pretense of equality. They are not to call upon us. I will not receive them."

"I understand," Elizabeth said.

"Why are you so determined upon this? You have gained your goal by marrying me. And I have promised to do what is necessary to show honor to your poor relations. I simply refuse to do more than that."

"I understand ," was the sharply voiced reply.

"No, you do not. If you really understood, you would not have this petulant tone."

"Petulant? I—" She took slow deep breaths. "Mr. Darcy, I know I cannot expect anything more from you , and I understand perfectly that it was unwise for me to have even made the suggestion. Let us just accept that I very much like my aunt and uncle — I am after all bound to them by ‘ties of blood and long affection" — and this despite the deep disgrace of them being in trade, and I am saddened by your refusal to call upon them with me this week."

Darcy knew he had made a mistake, and that he was halfway to being a brute by insisting upon this. "I am glad that you do understand that you cannot expect me to enter any intimacy with a family in trade, but while I will not call upon them more than absolutely necessary," he said, "you should use your own judgement to decide how often you visit them. I suppose… no, I would not wish to interfere with your affection for your relations. Call on them every day if you must. With the carriage, livery and all."

"Thank you."

Elizabeth's tone was odd, as though she could not decide whether to be offended by how Darcy had given her this boon or pleased by it. Her face twitched between a grateful smile and a frown three times.

That was what he'd always liked about her, that quick mobile face. He felt as though he could see her thoughts. It reminded him of how he… felt about her. And made him glad once more that they were married, despite all of the deficiencies of the situation.

This marriage might yet be the making of his happiness .