Chapter Ten

 

Darcy rode hard, relishing the freedom as the wind blew past his face and tugged on his coat. He knew he ought to spend the time reflecting on his character and all the mistakes he had made, but he simply needed activity to silence the harping recriminations.

After nearly half an hour, he slowed his animal and followed a wooded path. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the woods from a less-worn path and dashed up the hill ahead of him. With a start, he realised it was Elizabeth, and she ran as though fleeing from something chasing her. He looked again to the woods and paused to listen, but there was no evidence of a large animal. He had lost sight of Elizabeth but continued up the path in the direction of the hill.

“Miss Bennet!” he called out, but she did not reply

“Elizabeth!” This is altogether too similar to last night. She runs in times of turmoil.

Darcy crested the hill and saw her standing still with her back to him. He dismounted and tied his horse, then walked to stand in front of Elizabeth to speak to her. By then she was sitting but seemed to not hear his approach. Her chest was heaving, and her eyes were squeezed shut. Her face was marked with lines of confusion, but gradually it eased, and her breathing evened.

Darcy had no earthly idea what to do. She seemed entirely unaware of him as she daintily sat on the grass in silence for several minutes. Then as suddenly as she calmed, she grew agitated again. Her face flushed, then she swooned.

Attempting to quell his panic, Darcy swept up his beloved and began walking to his horse. He could see she was still breathing. She came to with a start and began shrieking and trying to jump down from his arms.

“Elizabeth, calm yourself,” he said as he stood her on her feet.

“Beast!!” She ran several paces away.

Darcy stared at her. She fears me? She believes I am a beast. Did she think I was going to force myself on her while she was unaware?

He attempted to mask the deep pain he felt. He needed to be sure she was well. Without approaching any closer, he gently called to her. “Elizabeth, are you well? You swooned and frightened me. It is still just dawn, and you cannot have had much rest to be about so early. Please, allow me to see you home.”

She looked at him, and even at the relative distance, he could see the wild fear in her eyes.

“No, I am well. I can return home on my own.”

Darcy stood still for a moment, fighting his dejection, wanting to be considerate of her feelings and still assure her safety. “Might I follow you at a distance to be certain you arrive?”

The fear in her eyes eased, and she looked at him appraisingly. “Sir, I know these paths well and…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. When she met his eyes again, she was crying.

Blast it all! He took a tentative step closer.

“This is my last day to enjoy the countryside for quite some time, I suppose, and being out of doors does me good.”

Darcy understood; she was saying goodbye to her home. Not just the building and the people but the thousand little overlooked things, each of which constituted her sanctuary and brought comfort.

“Can you tell me what frightened you? What caused you to run and exert yourself so much you fainted?”

She blushed a deep red and shook her head.

“Were you…” He exhaled, utterly defeated. “I hope you can trust me, confide in me. I hope you do not fear me. I would never harm you.”

Elizabeth looked at him sharply. “I would never fear you; now he terrifies me.” Darcy saw she was looking over his shoulder at his horse.

“Oh! Socrates scares you?” His lips turned up in amusement.

“Mr. Darcy, it is not polite to laugh at a lady, and you do not want to provoke me to retaliate. I walked to Netherfield for a reason. I am terrified of horses and prefer either my own good feet or to be in an enclosed carriage, far away from them.”

He laughed outright and was not sure if it was more from relief or that she had such an unreasonable fear. Walking back to the horse, he released him and told him, “Home.”

Turning back to Elizabeth, he said, “Socrates will go back to Netherfield on his own, quite happily, I should say.”

Darcy offered her his arm, and they began to walk down the hill. “How are you truly, Elizabeth? I called after you several times and watched you. You were utterly senseless of my presence. I saw you running in the woods earlier.”

“I sometimes need exertion. You see you will have a most wild and unruly wife.” She laughed, but he knew her merriness was feigned.

Darcy ceased walking and looked down at Elizabeth seriously. “Will you not tell me what troubles you?”

She was silent for a long moment. “I fear for our mutual happiness, that we were brought together because of our passions, rather than our virtues.”

“Do you still think I proposed only out of obligation?”

She chuckled a little. “Oh, no, William. You have made it abundantly clear you desire me as much as a man ought to desire his spouse, possibly much more than is reasonable, given the only thing you gain is me.”

“You are more than enough.”

“Am I? Will I be enough when we are not accepted in your circle due to my want of connections and lack of accomplishments? Will it be enough when we are alone on a winter’s night? Or when you tire of my teasing? Will it be enough when bearing children and the passage of time make me lose my youth and beauty? Or will you hide in your study and at your club?

“Will you lose all respect for me and my concerns and opinions? We argue more often than not and during our two-week betrothal have only been in company twice, which seems to not concern you at all!”

She pulled her hand from his arm and buried her face in her handkerchief. She loathed that she was so emotional and had exposed her innermost concerns so continually.

Her cries lessened, and she summarised it simply. “Passion is not love or respect. I have seen a marriage with no respect...” She could not continue. To say more was not needed.

Darcy hated the powerless feeling he had as Elizabeth released her fears. There was nothing he could do to alleviate her concerns, and he was shocked to hear them. He had always considered them well-matched. Long before he admitted he loved Elizabeth, he wanted her as his wife. He knew she could bring liveliness and companionship to him. How could she not see that?

Should I embrace her? No, touching her again is a dangerous idea. How else can I reassure her? This is my fault. He knew he should have at least expressed his regret at having to depart for Town. He should have called at Longbourn first. He should have told her how much he desired to see her when the rain separated them. Last night, he told her how beautiful he found her and very eloquently displayed his affection, but he did not tell her he admired her intelligence and wit, that he relished their debates. He should have told her how much he loved her.

Just as he was determining to state his love, she declared that passion was not love or respect. Until that moment, it never crossed his mind that she did not reciprocate his regard in some way. Is that all she feels? Just carnal affection?

He could scarcely think it of her. To engage in such acts merely for physical gratification would mark her wanton. She was entirely too innocent and pure for that kind of scheming. He knew wanton ladies; they boldly approached him with a hard glint in their eyes, not the soft expression Elizabeth had. Perhaps she did not know her feelings. He had to believe there was some kind of awakening of feelings for both of them in the Netherfield library, and due to the pressures of the last fortnight, she had not had time to fully explore them. He must say something, but he decided to withhold his statement of love and attempt to address her concerns the best he could.

Her handkerchief was soaked, so he offered his. “Elizabeth, I desire you for my wife. I hold that position in very high regard. If you accept that I did not propose out of obligation, then please accept that I desire more than your allurements. I am a grown man. I have withstood temptation for many years. I desire true companionship. On the winter nights, we can read together before the fireplace in the library in our townhouse. There will be operas, plays, and regrettably, soirées to attend.”

Elizabeth gave him a sharp look. “Regrettably?” She was trying to not judge hastily and assume he did not desire to introduce her to his friends.

“Yes, my Aunt Sidney insists I attend several large events a year. I do not like the large gatherings, but it is important as a Darcy and a member of the Fitzwilliam family to attend, to assure my sister’s place in society,” he paused for a moment, “and our children’s.”

Elizabeth blushed prettily, and he could not resist smiling.

“I have not hosted many gatherings in the past, but I believe you will be an excellent hostess.” He grew silent, chasing memories. “My mother was ill much of my childhood and died when I was twelve. Father missed her terribly and seldom entertained. He died when I was two and twenty. Managing the estate and caring for Georgiana have taken up much of my time and effort. I have not been a hospitable neighbour.

“I know you will be liked by my friends and family. I will not lie; some of the ton would find fault with any woman I marry. But there will be many more who are eager to befriend the new Mrs. Darcy. You must beware the false friendships, but I think you will get on well with several of my friends’ wives. And your sister will be there, too. I am eager for you to meet mine.”

Elizabeth smiled more, an expression Darcy returned. He began to feel bold. He grabbed her left hand and, as had become habit, began tracing circles on it. “You will never lose my respect. I dearly love our debates. I dislike deference. I enjoy your teasing…I need it. I confess, in the past, I have been prone to spending the majority of my day in my library, but as a husband, I hope my wife might enjoy making up parties of our family and friends. I seldom visit my club. I think you would enjoy walks in the park together, and I long to show you the paths of Pemberley! You will always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me. And you will become all the more beautiful as we age and share our lives together, and as you carry our children.” The product of our love, he wanted to say but chose not to do so.

Darcy could easily sense Elizabeth’s usual good spirits returning. “Please allow me to apologise for not being more sensitive to your opinions and concerns. I should have found some way to inform you of my plans to visit Town and begin the preparations. I know you must be offended that I did not consult you on the wedding date or any of the plans, but you must believe me that this was a rare occurrence, and I will not be so preoccupied or exclude you in future.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “And you cannot conceive how frequently I prayed for sunshine between my return to Netherfield and the day of the ball. But in the end, it was in the Almighty’s hands, and apparently He desired it so.”

Elizabeth arched her brow. “You mean not even the master of Pemberley can control the weather or get his demands of the Lord?”

Darcy grinned. Elizabeth was clearly feeling better. “Nay, my dear. For I have it on good authority that an angel in Longbourn prayed for the sun as well, and if the Lord did not listen to her, then why should He listen to me, a mere mortal?”

She blushed again but replied, “I did not say I prayed for sunshine.”

“And I did not say I meant you! All Bingley can ever speak of is his angel!”

Elizabeth scoffed in disbelief at his tease. She playfully shoved him. “William!”

Darcy captured her hand and pulled her closer. Stroking her cheek, he said, “I cannot call you an angel, my alluring temptress, my lovely wood nymph. You are very much a flesh and blood woman, to my immense pleasure.”

He smirked, and Elizabeth could not help but notice his strange fascination with the word.

“No, I would not have you be an angel. You are a goddess...with all the wisdom of Athena, the beauty of Aphrodite, and the love of nature of Artemis. You will be my Demeter and help Pemberley’s harvest, my Hestia and make Pemberley a home, and my Hera, the goddess of goddesses, woman above all other women.”

Elizabeth could scarcely breathe. But soon enough she gathered her wits to reply, “Very well, sir. Now we cannot have you be Zeus, for you have admitted to not being able to control the weather. Nor could you be Poseidon, as floods and droughts are not conducive to farming. Might you be Dionysus as you have asked to give more parties? Certainly you are Apollo...god of knowledge.”

Darcy had to control the urge to cease her teasing lips. Dionysus was also the god of ecstasy and Apollo, the god of manly beauty. Was she saying what he hoped? Oh, that he could be her Eros, her god of love. And she would be his Psyche, his very Breath of Life.

Elizabeth was pleased with herself. She knew Darcy was not given to drunkenness, but there was no denying he had been half in his cups the night she walked into the library, and calling him Dionysus was quite fitting. And although he was intelligent, she poked fun at his singing with her, too. Apollo was also the god of music. If she were truthful, however, she would call him Adonis, the god of beauty...and desire.

Taking a deep breath, Darcy smiled at Elizabeth and placed her hand on his arm again. “Come, Elizabeth. I believe some of your relatives are to arrive this afternoon. On that note, I must beg you excuse me from calling as I must send an express to my own relatives about our wedding.”

Elizabeth snatched her hand from Darcy’s arm. “You had not told them before? You were ashamed of the connection!”

Darcy vehemently shook his head and blessed Bingley at the same time. “No, I did not wish to have prying questions.”

“They will reject me?”

“No, but they might question my attachment. It has been rather fast, and I have never shown much interest in one lady before. I had thought to exclude them entirely, but Bingley explained it would look bad.”

“They will think I am a fortune hunter!”

Darcy shook his head. “No, I think they will trust my judgment, and certainly once they meet you, they will know you are not mercenary.” He smiled. “If that is not enough, we will simply tell them of the six suitors you apparently had before meeting me. Only a fool would spurn six men in hopes of a bigger catch. It will be evident you wished to marry for affection.”

Elizabeth blushed. Darcy offered her his arm, and they walked down the main path once more. As Darcy had allowed his horse to leave, they chose to separate once the lane to Longbourn came in view.

*****

“Jane?” She awoke to a knock on her bedroom door.

“Come in, Mama,” she replied.

“Are you ill again?”

Jane winced a bit at the shrill tone of her mother’s voice. She had drunk too much wine the night before and had trouble falling asleep after…

“You had already gone to bed when the rest of us returned from Netherfield. You looked so angelic all night! Engaged to Mr. Bingley! And although Charlotte Lucas is engaged as well, I know Lady Lucas was jealous.”

Jane gave a small smile. This was her mother’s way of complimenting her. She hardly ever declared her own daughters superior or how pleased she was from her own mouth; it always came by way of saying someone else found them so. It was endearing in a sad way.

“I only had a bad headache. I am perfectly well now,” Jane said while stretching. She felt a twinge from her experiences of the night before but tried to not show it.

“Then you must get up. Your sister has run off somewhere, but I am certain Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy mean to call soon, and your aunt and uncle will arrive in a few hours as well.”

Jane wrinkled her brow; it was much later in the day than she had expected. She blushed as she considered what had exhausted her so much. “Mr. Bingley had to go to Town today.”

“To Town? Whatever for?” Mrs. Bennet screeched and turned red.

“He was required to settle some business matters.”

“But when will he return?”

“He had hoped within a few days…”

“He will not return before Lizzy’s wedding?”

Jane frowned. They had not considered that last night. “I do hope Lizzy is well,” she said with concern as she stood.

Mrs. Bennet sighed. “Of course, she is well! She is never ill. She is to marry a man worth ten thousand pounds in two days’ time; she is perfectly well!” Mrs. Bennet was nearly commanding it to be so.

Jane walked to her washbasin, and Mrs. Bennet gasped. “Oh! Well, no wonder you had a headache last night. It looks like your courses have come early. Well, better you than Lizzy this week,” she mumbled under her breath.

Jane blushed again. She had not really known what to expect last night with Mr. Bingley. She supposed her mother would have spoken with her before her wedding, but now it would not be necessary. She had not bled until after she left the library. It was only a scant amount. She was surprised it continued overnight, enough for her mother to notice on her shift. At least her mother came up with a ready reason. She presumed such a thing was normal but did not know if it would last.

“I do not think they will last long. I am feeling so anxious, and that always makes them come early and be light.” She did not quite lie; she was feeling anxious. “Poor Lizzy. She missed hers entirely last week.” Mrs. Bennet held out Jane’s gown to help her dress.

“Lizzy’s courses are late?” Mrs. Bennet wore a satisfied smile, but Jane could not imagine why.

“Only a few days. She was concerned over Mr. Darcy’s absence, and the wedding is so rushed.”

Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “Well, the wedding must be rushed! Enough dawdling. I will call Sally to do your hair.” She paused at the door as though she had something more to say but simply nodded and continued on.

Jane took the time to look at her reflection in the mirror. Did she look different now? She knew they ought to have waited. Jane was not usually so irreligious to say that a Church solemnization meant nothing, but it was not so very bad, was it? They were to be wed in a matter of days. Nor did she think there was anything wrong with the passion she felt.

Further thought proved impossible as the maid arrived. All too soon for her taste, Jane made her way downstairs with her noisy family and awaited the arrival of her relatives. Finally, Elizabeth arrived home with a silly smile on her face.

“Lizzy! Is that a grass stain on your gown?” Mrs. Bennet shrieked, “What in Heaven’s name did you do out there?”

“Is there? I am sorry! I exerted myself too much and had to rest.” Elizabeth blushed, and Jane found it curious.

“Well, upstairs! Change this minute. Surely Mr. Darcy will call soon.”

“No, I saw him while walking. He had an urgent letter to write and cannot call until the morrow.”

“Then I can use your help…”

“May I rest for a bit? I did not sleep well and am over-exhausted.”

Mrs. Bennet gave her daughter a long look before nodding. She mumbled something about demanding men under her breath, and Jane furrowed her brow. Surely Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy did not engage in…and outside! Jane added up everything she knew about Elizabeth’s engagement and the courtship thus far. Elizabeth’s opinion of Mr. Darcy seemed to change very rapidly; Jane could not say it was impossible for them to have had a liaison at Netherfield. Elizabeth would likely keep that from her, just as she intended to keep the truth from Lizzy. If her sister had been with Mr. Darcy then, why not this morning? Her cheeks burnt scarlet at her own memories.

“Jane, help Kitty trim her bonnet!” Mrs. Bennet demanded with impatience.

Jane had been wool-gathering too long and set to work. By the time Elizabeth returned from her short nap and a bath, Jane’s nerves were raw. She disliked having to hide anything from her dearest sister, but it was a matter she and Bingley had not discussed. She would much rather spend what little time she had left with Elizabeth, and indeed all of her sisters, in different pursuits than discussion of courtship liberties.