36. Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Six

July 3, 1812 Pemberley Elizabeth

T he carriage stopped on a rise that looked out over the fields and woods below. Darcy climbed out and helped Elizabeth down, leaving Georgiana in the carriage and led his wife forward to observe her new home. She gasped in awe. The prospect was perfect. The drive continued down the hill and around a large lake toward an impressive manor house. Another smaller lake had been created just in front of the house so that the edifice’s reflection fell upon the water. A fountain completed the picture. Woods lined the drive, and the grounds appeared to be impressive. Everything had been left in its natural state where possible, and nothing had been forced into unnatural rows or arrangements in an awkward manner.

“What do you think?” her husband asked quietly.

“It is beautiful.” She glanced mischievously at him and said playfully, “I am certain there are paths aplenty on which I can muddy my hems. What say you, Mr. Darcy? Will your staff be appalled when their mistress arrives with her petticoat six inches deep in mud?”

Her husband laughed. “I am certain they will say nothing against your preference for the outdoors.” He turned and led her back to the carriage.

Georgiana bounced excitedly as her new sister settled herself. “Just wait until you see inside!” she cried happily.

As they made their way down the rest of the drive, Elizabeth reflected on the past two weeks. Her father had been laid to rest in Hertfordshire and his heir, too, had gone on to meet his maker. Jane would hopefully be waiting at Pemberley.

She winced internally. She had not told her husband that Jane was to stay with them for the foreseeable future. Whenever Elizabeth mentioned her sister, he quickly changed the subject or grew very formal. After overhearing the conversation between him and Mr. Bingley, she knew Darcy believed that Jane had not cared for his friend. So, despite her husband’s reassurances that she could invite whomever she wished to visit, she had not informed him.

She had, however, sent a letter to Mrs. Reynolds, introducing herself and giving instructions to have a room in the family wing prepared for her sister. Mrs. Reynolds had sent a response via express when everything had been readied.

The carriage came to a stop before the house. The staff were lined up on the stairs, awaiting their master and their new mistress. Elizabeth spotted an older woman with a chatelaine at her waist. That must be Mrs. Reynolds , she thought.

The door to the carriage opened and Darcy climbed out before turning to assist her. She took his hand and allowed him to help her down. After helping his sister in like manner, he tucked Elizabeth’s arm in his, and turned, making his way toward the woman she had noted previously.

“Elizabeth, this is Mrs. Reynolds. Mrs. Reynolds, it pleases me to introduce Elizabeth Darcy, my wife. Mrs. Reynolds has been the housekeeper here for almost fifteen years. I have known her since I was a lad and a finer person you will never meet.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Mrs. Reynolds.” Elizabeth greeted the housekeeper warmly. They would be working closely together, and she had no wish to antagonize the woman.

“Likewise, Mrs. Darcy.” Mrs. Reynolds curtseyed politely. “The master bade me prepare everything. And your own directives have been seen to, of course.”

Elizabeth nodded, ignoring the quizzical expression her husband gave her. Instead, she focused as Mrs. Reynolds began introducing the staff. She began with the butler, a tall, stoic man named Palmer. Next, she moved from the upstairs staff to the downstairs and kitchen staff. There were far too many to remember, and Elizabeth knew it would take her months to recall their names accurately.

“Smith is in your chambers. Your trunks arrived ahead of you, and she is seeing to them.” Mrs. Reynolds directed her next comment to Darcy. “I have tea prepared in the yellow parlor, sir, if you care to partake before you retire to your chambers.”

“That would be lovely. I am certain my wife is as in need of refreshment as I.” Darcy smiled. “Let us go in.” He held his free arm out to Georgiana, and they climbed the stairs. Inside the vestibule, Elizabeth handed her outer things to the waiting butler and allowed Georgiana to take her hand. Her sister pulled her down the hallway and around two turns until they reached what she presumed was the yellow parlor.

The door stood open, and Elizabeth entered. Gasping in delight, she rushed to Jane, who stood near a settee. Ignoring everything else, she hugged her fiercely, weeping into her shoulder.

“You are here!” she cried. “I have missed you dreadfully.” Elizabeth stepped back, taking Jane’s hands in hers as she observed her sister. “There is a glow about you,” she continued. “How are you feeling?” She nodded toward Jane’s rounded stomach.

“I am quite well, Lizzy, I assure you. The journey was long, but we went slowly. Mr. Darcy’s carriage is very comfortable. I have no complaints.” Jane’s usual serene smile graced her lips, and Elizabeth returned it with a broad one of her own.

“Jane, this is my new sister,” she said, turning and beckoning to Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, my elder sister, Jane Collins.” The ladies curtseyed and they sat, waiting for tea and Darcy to come into the room.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Collins,” Georgiana said quietly. Jane looked wraithlike in her black gown, and yet somehow ethereally beautiful in her mourning.

“I thank you for your sympathies.” Jane smiled, no sign of repressed misery in her expression. “And I am very grateful to be so welcomed here. Things will be uncertain until my child is born.” Her hand came to rest gently on her stomach, and she caressed it fondly.

“Mrs. Collins?” The ladies turned and observed Mr. Darcy in the doorway. His confused and incredulous expression must have informed Jane that he had not known she would be here, for Elizabeth’s sister glanced away, blush staining her cheeks.

Elizabeth stood. “I invited my sister to stay for a time,” she said mildly, hoping to delay the inevitable confrontation until they were in private. “Oh, here is tea! Thank you… Sally, is it not?” The maid nodded and set the tray on a table. As Mr. Darcy moved slowly into the room and took a seat, Elizabeth busied herself preparing a cup for everyone. When all had been served, she chatted about little nothings.

Jane excused herself to rest when she had finished tea, kissing Elizabeth’s cheek and departing. Georgiana followed suit, claiming fatigue from their journey. When they were alone, Elizabeth carefully set her cup on the tray and turned to her husband.

“What is Mrs. Collins doing here?” he asked flatly.

“My sister needed a place to stay until she has her child. Given my mother’s propensity toward hysterics, I felt it would be safer… and more comfortable for Jane to be here.” She shrugged casually.

“You did not tell me.” His tone accused her of some crime, and she bristled at the implication that she should not have welcomed her sister into her home.

“I was under the impression that I am free to invite whomever I wish to be my guest,” she said through gritted teeth. “Am I mistaken, sir?”

He shook his head. “No. It is only so unexpected… and it is awkward that she is here, having seen your new home before you.”

She sensed that he was not saying everything he thought, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that all you wish to say?”

He shifted and nodded, not looking at her. Elizabeth felt frustrated. She knew he held something against Jane, but until he shared with her, she could do nothing to either mitigate or confirm his suppositions.

He stood and beckoned to her. “Come, let me show you to your chambers. I am very anxious for you to see them. They have not been updated since my mother did so upon her marriage, and I wish to know if you want anything changed.”

Elizabeth put aside her worries and frustrations and took his arm. She leaned into him as he led her to a grand staircase. They climbed it slowly, and she listened as her husband provided details about the house.

“The marble came all the way from Italy,” he said, gesturing to the stone that lined the stairs and floors. “The rugs are from Persia, too.”

“I cannot imagine what it took to transport the materials for this place,” she replied, suitably awed by the grandeur around her. “Tell me, are the taxes for the windows astronomical?” The front of the house had many windows— over twenty if she were to take a guess.

“They are, but we can well afford them. Much of Pemberley’s income comes from tenants, but I have diversified our holdings as well through various investments.”

Elizabeth nodded. Her uncle often spoke of the changes coming. Tradesmen such as Mr. Bingley were making their fortunes and upsetting the balance of classes. Soon, tenant farmers would leave their fields in droves for more lucrative work.

They came to the top of the stairs, and he led her to the left. “To the right leads to the guest wing,” he informed her. “The family quarters are this way.”

The hall was long and the floor was covered in a thick, red runner. Her feet sank into the plush carpet, and she counted the doors as they walked past. Eight, nine, ten, eleven… At the twelfth door, he stopped and pushed it open.

“This is your chamber,” he said. She entered and stared at the opulent surroundings. The room was dated, to be sure, but it still felt elegant and refined. The furniture had been painted a lovely white, complementing the soft green, blue, and cream shades that made up the coverlet, curtains, and furniture upholstery. “You may change anything you like,” her husband said quietly. He nudged the door closed and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her back into his chest. He nuzzled the side of her head with his nose before kissing her neck. Elizabeth closed her eyes, enjoying his touch and thankful that he did not appear too angry at her deception.

He straightened and released her to take her hand. They walked across the room to another door, and he pulled it open. “This is our sitting room,” he said, walking through the doorway.

“Just as at Darcy House!” She turned and smiled.

“Yes, the same ancestor that built Pemberley had the house in town done as well. My rooms are through the opposite door.”

“And are they as well done as my own?” she asked pertly, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “I have not changed anything since my father died,” he confessed. “I could not bear it.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Mayhap we can make arrangements, and they can be redone when we return to town.”

He nodded. “Would you care to rest before dinner?” he asked. “There is some time to do so. I have a few estate matters I need to see to.”

Elizabeth nodded, the idea of a rest appealing to her. She had been strangely tired the last two weeks, and she hoped that the strain of losing her father had not prompted some illness to take hold.

Smith appeared from a servant’s door and made her way to Elizabeth’s dressing room. She emerged with a nightgown and quickly removed her mistress’s gown and exchanged it for the soft, white sleepwear. Elizabeth removed the pins from her hair and tossed them on the dressing table. Still in awe of her lovely surroundings, she climbed beneath the coverlet and fell asleep.

Smith alerted her that it was time to dress for dinner, and Elizabeth struggled to wake from her slumber. She felt groggy and a little grouchy, but she allowed herself to be dressed in a black evening gown. She sighed. It had been a favorite, dyed hastily when she learned of her father’s passing. Others had been ordered while she stayed in Meryton and had been delivered to Longbourn before they departed.

I suppose I ought not to be so disgruntled. Jane will be required to wear mourning for an entire year. I only need to wear it for six months. Elizabeth knew that her loss meant she could not socialize with the neighbors during that time, and she hoped they understood. Mrs. Reynolds had put a black wreath on the door, signaling that the house was in mourning. Elizabeth appreciated her thoughtfulness.

Dinner was served at six o’clock. Darcy had kindly asked Elizabeth whether she preferred town or country hours, and she had replied in favor of the latter. Georgiana and Jane joined them.

Darcy escorted Elizabeth to what her husband called the small dining room and seated her, fiddling with the mourning band on his arm as he walked to his own seat.

Jane sat beside Elizabeth, and Georgiana sat on her new sister’s other side. Elizabeth glanced around, taking in her surroundings. She could see why it was referred to as the small dining room. The table had room for only six people, creating an intimate dining situation.

“How was your journey to Derbyshire, Mrs. Collins?” Elizabeth started at her husband addressing her sister in such a formal manner. He sounded stiff and aloof, just as he had in Hertfordshire last autumn.

“Why do we not dispense with formalities?” she cut in before Jane could reply. “We are all family here. What say you, Jane? Georgiana?” She leveled a challenging gaze at her husband, raising both eyebrows expectantly.

“Of course!” Georgiana was the first to reply, turning to beam at Jane. “Will you call me by my Christian name, Mrs. Collins? …Jane?”

Jane glanced at Mr. Darcy, an unfathomable expression on her face, before replying to Georgiana. “I should be pleased, Georgiana. You must call me Jane.”

Elizabeth’s husband cleared his throat. “I suppose you can call me Darcy, Mrs. Collins— Jane. ” He did not seem pleased, and Elizabeth wondered why her husband resisted growing close to her family.

He seemed so kind and genuine at Longbourn. Why can he not extend that manner to my dearest sister? She could forgive him for his interference with Jane’s happiness, especially now that her sister was free to find love, but she would not abide him treating her with cold disdain and formality.

Georgiana began peppering Jane with questions, and Elizabeth felt glad that her new sister could shed her shy nature and speak with confidence.

They retired together to the drawing room after supper, forgoing the separation of sexes, and Georgiana squealed when she noted the pianoforte. “Brother!” she cried. “A Broadwood grand? I am thrilled!” She walked quickly to the instrument and ran her hands over the gleaming keys. “What shall I play for you all?” She slid onto the bench and tested a few keys, playing a stanza from a Beethoven score.

“Happy birthday, Georgie,” Mr. Darcy said, grinning.

“Oh, what a perfect surprise! It is too much!” Georgiana returned his smile and played a quick scale. “But I cannot complain,” she said when she finished. “And since my birthday is passed, I am not required to wait to play this superior instrument!”

Elizabeth and Jane laughed along with Mr. Darcy and settled into their respective seats. Georgiana launched into a complicated Mozart piece, leaving the rest of the party to their diversions. Jane pulled a workbasket from beside the chair she sat in and began stitching lace onto a baby gown. Darcy and Elizabeth sat side by side on the settee, saying nothing. She leaned against him as she has so frequently done, and he stiffened before pulling away. Hurt, she shifted away from him, wondering what she had done to earn his ire this time.

He did not attempt to take her hand or comfort her, and she briefly wondered if he realized he had hurt her feelings. Suddenly, she felt exhausted, and she stood, excusing herself for the evening. She did not look at her husband before departing, instead kissing Jane on the cheek and bidding Georgiana a good night.

Once in her chamber and ready for bed, Elizabeth climbed beneath the coverlet and laid her head against the goose down pillow. Tears formed in her eyes, and she blinked them away, chastising herself for such a missish reaction to her husband’s mercurial moods.

She heard her door open, and she closed her eyes tightly, breathing evenly to feign sleep. She did not wish to speak to him until morning. I shall have more energy to manage him then , she told herself. I simply cannot reason with him now.

He caressed her cheek from where he stood by her bed before turning and leaving the room. She listened to his footsteps fade before rolling over and putting her arm under her neck. Will I ever understand him? she asked herself in the darkness. Sleep overtook her shortly thereafter, and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.