27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Monday, May 4, 1812 Longbourn Elizabeth

E lizabeth stood before her mirror, staring at her reflection. She looked lovely in the gown of pale-yellow silk ordered as part of her wedding clothes. Mr. Darcy had told Mrs. Bennet that Elizabeth would purchase most of her wardrobe in London, so her mother had only ordered four new gowns for her most troublesome daughter.

Her hair had been arranged fashionably, with curls framing her face and kissing her neck. Her dark eyes stood out against her pale face, and the color of her gown brought out hints of gold within their depths.

“You look very well, Lizzy.” Her mother’s voice from her doorway caused her to jump in surprise, since Mrs. Bennet had kept her vow of silence.

“I am to tell you of the wedding night.” Mrs. Bennet proceeded to do so, and Elizabth blushed in mortification and embarrassment. “It will be over quickly,” her mother said. “Give him his heir, and then you may lock your door against him.”

Mrs. Bennet turned to leave and then stopped. She turned around and came back toward Elizabeth. “It is good that you will be married,” she said. “Your father thinks I am a fool and do not notice, but he is not well.” She sat slowly on the bed. “I know you think I was harsh, not speaking to you all these months. In truth, I felt far too angry to do so. First, I grew upset when you rejected Mr. Collins. And then Jane accepted his proposal, and I became even more furious because she, who had the attentions of a worthier man, felt the need to do her duty where you would not. Even after learning of Miss Bingley’s letter, I did not doubt that Mr. Bingley would return. But he never did.”

She sniffed. “I let my anger continue, even after you returned engaged. I thought for sure that Mr. Darcy would cry off. But he did not.” She patted her hair and stood. “Come down now, for your father is waiting.”

“Would you have done it?” Elizabeth asked. “Would you have cast me out and denied me a home?” She needed to know.

Her mother nodded. “Yes.” She did not attempt to explain herself, turning and leaving the room.

Elizabeth gasped as a sob threatened to explode from within her. She struggled to compose herself. When she felt a little more certain of her equanimity, she glanced in the mirror to be certain she had not spoiled her appearance and then left the room.

Her father awaited her at the bottom of the stairs. “You look lovely, my dear,” he said sincerely. He offered her his arm and Elizabeth took it. He leaned heavily on her, and she supported him to the carriage where her mother and three remaining sisters waited.

She and her father had the privilege to sit on the forward-facing bench. Mama had somehow managed to squeeze herself and her three youngest daughters on the rear-facing one. The ride to the church felt far too short, however, and soon she had disembarked and was waiting just outside the chapel doors for her turn to enter.

When it came time, her father escorted her down the aisle toward Mr. Darcy. Charlotte stood there, waiting to stand as a witness for Elizabeth. Colonel Fitzwilliam joined his cousin. With a start, she noted Lady de Bourgh sitting with the Fitzwilliams. The lady grinned and winked at her, and Elizabeth smiled back.

Suddenly, they were at the front of the church and her father placed her hand into Darcy’s. The parson began to speak, and, in a whirlwind, she and her new husband were back down the aisle and signing the parish register.

The wedding breakfast passed in a similar blur, and before she boarded the carriage with Darcy, she farewelled her friends and neighbors, her sisters, her mother, and her father. When she came to Charlotte, she hugged her tightly.

“I will send for you soon,” she promised.

“I shall join you in London before too long,” Charlotte confided. “Lady de Bourgh has asked me to join her at her house as her guest.”

“Charlotte, that is wonderful!” Elizabeth cried. “I am very pleased.”

“Did you know that her house is in Mayfair, two doors down from Mr. Darcy?” she grinned happily. “You will not escape me now!”

Elizabeth laughed. “I have no wish to. I shall look forward to having your company.”

Charlotte sobered. “Do not let your misgivings and wounded vanity prevent you from learning to love him, Elizabeth,” she cautioned. “Mr. Darcy is a good man.”

Elizabeth glanced across the room, where her husband appeared to be having a conversation with her father. “I promise to try,” she said at last.

Fifteen minutes later, the newly married couple were aboard the carriage and traveling toward London. Georgiana was to return to town with her Fitzwilliam relations. She and her companion would reside at Matlock House for two weeks, giving Elizabeth and Darcy a chance to settle in.

They sat in silence for a time. Darcy had taken the rear facing bench, but now moved to sit beside her. He took her hand and caressed it, removing her gloves one finger at a time. She felt a thrill as his bare hands touched her now gloveless ones.

“You have remarkably small hands,” he murmured, laying hers flat on his to compare their size.

“Do I?” she choked out. “Mayhap yours are just overly large.”

He chuckled softly, tracing her fingers one at a time before lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it. “You are lovely, Elizabeth.” Slowly, he leaned toward her. Cupping his hand behind her head, he kissed her tenderly, pulling away after only a few moments. Strangely, she felt disappointed that he had not continued demonstrating his affection for her.

“It is a long journey to London,” he said. “What shall we do to occupy our time?”

They settled on a book, taking turns reading aloud. He traced patterns up and down her arm as she read, making it hard to focus. Though half the book had been read before the first stop, she could not recall what she had read. At a posting inn, they refreshed themselves before returning to the carriage. Dusk was upon them as the carriage pulled to a stop before Darcy House.

Her husband helped her from the carriage as he directed the footman to remove their things. She took his arm and climbed the stairs. The door opened before them, revealing a stern-looking butler.

“Hodgens,” Darcy greeted him. “I present my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. Elizabeth, this is Hodgens. He has been the butler here for fifteen years.”

Hodgens bowed. “It is a pleasure to meet you, madam.”

Next, Darcy introduced Mrs. Bloom, the housekeeper, a happy-looking lady who grinned excitedly when introduced to her new mistress. “It is a pleasure, ma’am,” she said.

The rest of the servants were introduced one by one. Elizabeth marveled at their number and felt impressed that her husband knew them all by name. Among those introduced was her new lady’s maid.

“This is Smith,” Darcy said. “She is to be your personal maid until you hire one of your own. She is well trained with curls—I do not think you will have any cause to repine her services.”

Smith curtseyed and smiled. Elizabeth liked the look of her. She did not seem so serious as some ladies’ maids she had seen.

“We can tour the house tomorrow. I have requested dinner in our shared sitting room. Come, I shall show you.” Darcy took her hand and led her up a grand staircase. There was a hallway on either side of the stairs and a set of double doors directly at the top. “That is the library,” Darcy said, gesturing to the double doors. “Our chambers are this way.” He took the hallway to the right and led her to a door part way down. He pushed it open, and they stepped inside.

The interior of the room had been illuminated by dozens of candles. The details were still hard to make out, but Elizabeth’s immediate impression was one of elegance and refinement. The furniture looked light, pleasing, and most importantly, comfortable. The enormous bed against the middle of the far wall invited her to collapse on it.

“Our sitting room is between the master and mistress’s suites,” he said, pulling her toward a door on the far end of the room. “Your dressing room is on the opposite side of your chamber.” He pushed the door open and led her into a lovely sitting room. Before the fire were two chairs and a settee. One wall had a bookcase filled with books. A table and two chairs sat near the window.

“Our meal will be brought here. Do you wish to change before we dine?” He gazed intently at her, and she blushed, wondering what he was thinking.

“I believe I wish to eat now,” she stuttered. He nodded and rang the bell, delivering his instructions to his valet, who appeared at another door opposite the one they entered. She surmised that it led to the master’s chambers.

Dinner appeared within minutes, and Elizabeth marveled at the efficiency of the staff. She said so, and her husband answered proudly, “Yes, they are wonderful. We pay them well for their service and their loyalty. Anyone who works at Darcy House—or Pemberley for that matter—knows that gossiping about our family will lead to dismissal without reference.”

They do not appear to be frightened of their master, she mused. He must treat them well. That spoke well of him. Elizabeth had resolved to do as Charlotte said and struggled to put aside her wounded pride so that she could more fully discover things to admire about her husband.

They partook of a delicious repast from the kitchens. Included were several of her favorites: lemon tarts and a delightful cake. Elizabeth marveled that her new husband knew her preferences. They spoke of books and their favorite London pastimes while they ate. When they had finished, an awkward silence fell between them. Darcy cleared his throat.

“I believe I shall just… ready myself for bed,” Elizabeth said awkwardly. Her mother’s words from that morning had mortified her, and she flushed anew thinking about them.

“How long…?” he replied quietly.

“Thirty minutes?” she said, though it sounded like a question to her ears.

He nodded, and she stood, leaving the room without looking back. Smith awaited her, helping her out of her gown and into a flattering silk nightgown. Elizabeth admired her reflection in the mirror. The white nightgown flowed from her shoulders to just above her feet. The seams followed her curves, and the sleeves were fitted from her shoulder to her elbow.

She went around the room blowing out the candles one by one until only one beside the bed remained. When he knocked, she called for him to enter. He carried a candle, and it lit his way to the bed. He placed his light next to hers, and she shifted so he could climb into the bed.

He sat next to her, gazing at her in the light. Slowly, he reached out and tugged on the loose curls that had already escaped the braid Smith had put in her hair.

“Elizabeth.” He gasped her name, and then he kissed her, his fervor perfectly matching his declaration of ardent love.

Elizabeth awoke alone the next morning. She stretched. That bed had to be the most comfortable she had ever slept in. Wealth buys the best, I suppose, she thought. Smith came out of the dressing room a moment later, and memories of the night before caused her to blush anew. She chastised herself for the outward expression of embarrassment. I am no missish girl.

Smiling, she greeted Smith, and her maid returned it cheerfully. “The master awaits you in the breakfast room,” she said, holding up the gown Elizabeth had selected the night before. It was a favorite. The color was between red and blush, and there were delicate yellow blossoms stitched at the neck, sleeves, and on the ribbon around the high waistline.

Smith made quick work of her mistress’s hair after slipping the gown over her head and fastening the many buttons. In a trice, Elizabeth was ready. “Will you show me to the breakfast room?” she asked her maid. Smith nodded and led her mistress out of her chamber and down the stairs. The hall directly across from the stairs led them further away from the front door. Near the end was a small room. Decorated in yellow and blue, the room’s atmosphere invited the occupant to relax. The morning sun poured through the window, warming the room.

“Good morning, Mrs. Darcy ,” her husband said, standing as she entered the room. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“Sit by me,” he commanded, indicating the chair next to his. “I do not wish your lovely countenance to be too far away.”

She obeyed him, silently frustrated at his officious and demanding nature. She ought to be able to pick whatever seat she wished since it was only the two of them.

“What will we do today?” she asked as she buttered a scone.

“I thought a tour of the house sounded agreeable,” he replied. “What say you?”

“Can we begin with the library?” She sounded eager, and her response caused him to smile. She rather liked it when he did so, and she wondered how often she could make him grin.

“If you like, though you must promise me that we will see the rest of the house. I am afraid once you set foot inside, I shall never be able to get you to leave.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, her earlier pique gone. “I promise.”

He chuckled. “Your reaction to this room will inform me when you can see the library at Pemberley.” His warning held no threat or ire, and Elizabeth thought him to be teasing.

After their meal, he escorted her upstairs and through the doors to the library. She froze in the doorway, gasping in delight.

The room had two levels. The main level had shelves on three walls. The last wall had a window that, upon closer observation, looked out into the gardens. The second level could be accessed by a staircase on the wall across from the window. It was only wide enough to admit one person, and Elizabeth climbed it to the small walkway before the shelves on the upper level. She ran her hand over the spines of the books. “I could spend all day here,” she said.

“That is what I feared,” Darcy said from the lower lever. “I promise we can spend as long as you like in here after we see the rest of the house.”

She did not wish to leave, but she climbed down the stairs and took her husband’s arm. He led her from the room, and she glanced behind them regretfully.

The tour of the house took some time, for Mr. Darcy took care to explain the subject of paintings, the origin of décor, and the history of the house. She listened attentively. His explanations were very interesting, and the more he spoke, the more she realized that her husband was capable of making conversation when he was comfortable. I shall have to help him be comfortable more often, she resolved to herself.

At the end of the tour, they returned to the library. Darcy ordered luncheon served there, and they dined at a table that stood in the center of the room. After consuming their meal, Elizabeth perused the books, selecting two to take back to her chamber.

The rest of the day they spent agreeably engaged in each other’s company, and Elizabeth thought she might come to like being Mrs. Darcy very much.