DREAD AND DESIRE IN DERBYSHIRE
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single lady who has refused the proposal of a handsome man of large fortune and good character, must be in want of something… penance… punishment… another proposal.
However little explored the feelings or views of such a woman may be on first entering his estate, confusion is so well fixed in her mind that she both fears and anticipates encountering the master and accepting his disdain for her dishonourable words.
"My love, do not fret. I am certain once we enter Pemberley you will be so enamoured that your fears will be abandoned in favour of seeing a place of which you have heard much." Mrs Gardiner patted her niece’s hand, in an attempt to calm the twisting of her handkerchief, and added firmly, "Mr Darcy is not at home. The landlord at the Rose and Crown assured us the family was in Town.” Stilling her niece’s nervous activity accomplished, she reminded her of the most pertinent fact. “Dearest, remember, Wickham also passed all his youth here as well."
Elizabeth Bennet inwardly shuddered. Her reaction to that charming lieutenant had been mortifying. She had no right to visit Pemberley after her harsh words rejecting the owner’s proposal. One particular phrase rang in her ears. ‘The last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.’
Injured vanity had propelled her to believe all manner of demeaning things about Mr Darcy within minutes of making the acquaintance of his childhood friend. It was impossible to imagine treating Charlotte in such a way—even in those days when she had been so very displeased with her acceptance of Mr Collins. Nothing but prejudice had allowed her to believe such a wild tale of betrayal from a veritable stranger. She nodded to her aunt, but her heart was not entirely ready to tour this home she had rejected. Besides, she was tired of great houses after viewing so many. Beautiful carpets and satin curtains did not interest her these days.
Her aunt seemed to read her mind. "If it were merely a fine house richly furnished, I should not care about it myself; but the grounds are delightful.” As if in response to the continued look of anxiety on Lizzy’s face, she added, “They have some of the finest woods in the country. You, who find such enjoyment in walking, should derive satisfaction in imagining exploring all the estate’s secret nooks and crannies"
Elizabeth did not disagree, but her mind could not acquiesce. The possibility of accidently seeing him… how dreadful… how thrilling… Without warning the memory of her new found nocturnal activity caused her to blush. Even when she believed he found her only tolerable, thoughts of him had crept into her mind in the privacy of her bedchamber and caused her to indulge. Banishing the thought of those forbidden sensations, she turned her attention to her present dilemma.
Perhaps, it might be better to speak openly to her aunt about the cause of her apprehension. But against this there were objections—she would be forced to tell her both of his proposal and the reason she had changed her mind about Wickham. He had not given her leave to confide his disclosure about his sister to any other. Then there were his actions with regard Jane and Mr Bingley that she did not want to speak of as well—he was not without blame in this matter.
Elizabeth Bennet watched for the first appearance of Pemberley with perturbation; and when at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter. Lately, she was more like her mother than she cared to admit. In light of how quickly she had agreed to this tour the previous evening, she deemed her resolution to forget him to be suspiciously feeble. The pain she had grown used to feeling since his letter, stabbed at her heart. Her hand went instinctually to her pocket to ensure it was there.
As she looked around, the immenseness of the park and the variety of its terrain were almost overpowering in their grandeur. They had entered at a low point, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood. Many times while touring the great estates with her aunt and uncle, memory of the grounds at Rosings and the lovely paths they had strolled together had encroached. At the time, she had been resentful of his intruding on her solitude, but the recollection of his earnest but fitful attempt at discussion filled her once again with remorse. In retrospect, she could see the hopefulness in his piercing eyes, but at the time she had persuaded herself he had been finding fault. Then there was his provoking scent that now seemed permanently lodged in her senses. It was always the first perception that came to her whenever their walks pushed into her consciousness as she lay in bed remembering. Those lanes in Kent seemed nothing compared to the magnificence of Pemberley. The knowledge she would never stroll here with him brought on an agony that was indescribable. She turned her body to ensure her aunt and uncle could not see the tears pooling in her eyes.
Even after she calmed her wayward emotions, Elizabeth’s mind was too full for conversation. Instead she silently saw and admired every remarkable view and prospect. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and found themselves at the top of a considerable rise—where the wood ceased, and a grand structure caught the eye. It was a large, handsome stone building, standing on elevated ground and backed by densely forested hills; from this ridge a stream meandered down and swelled just in front of the house into a much larger body of water. There was no artifice seen in this lake, as its banks were neither formal nor even much adorned. Willows hugged its edge, reeds grew in its shallows, and pairs of swans swam upon its surface.
The alluring picture of the place caused her to remember her scepticism when the proud Mr Darcy and the fawning Miss Bingley had talked of his estate. Now that she was seeing it first hand, it was evident her words, at least on this topic, had been truthful. A slight snort escaped as she realized she felt much like her nemesis and concluded that to be mistress of Pemberley might have been something. Both her aunt and uncle looked quizzically at her.
The Gardiners were profuse in their admiration of the estate. Upon listening to their words, the agony of recalling how much he disapproved of her family—his proposal had not been without cruel observations—forced her to realize that her dear uncle and aunt would have been lost to her. In exchange for the arrogant man’s ardent love, she shivered at the thought; she would not have been allowed to invite them to visit. This was a lucky thought that provided a brief respite from her persistent longings.
They descended the hill, crossed the bridge over the stream, and drove to the door. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall; and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, renewed her contemplation of the disaster her life had become. That carefree girl who felt comfortable and even laughed at her unmarried state was gone forever. Despite her cruel rejection of him, unfathomable desires often came to her unbidden when she contemplated his passionate declaration… and what he had almost done. As her eyes took in the magnificence of his entrance hall, she was certain remorse would be ever present in her future.
Mrs Reynolds, the long time housekeeper of Pemberley, greeted the fashionable couple from London and their niece. All three had impeccable manners and the young woman was pretty as well as polite. She had a slight air of despair about her, and Mrs Reynolds was suddenly struck by how her mood seemed to match that of Mr and Miss Darcy of late. It must be the fashion among the young to assume an air of disappointment
Mrs Reynolds had become the housekeeper of Pemberley when she was thirty years of age; at the time the current master was four years old. Mr and Miss Darcy had lost their parents at a young age, and her relationship with her employers had taken on an unusual familiarity. Despite their closeness, she was not privy to the cause of the current state of uneasiness of the brother and sister. They obviously deemed total secrecy to be expedient.
She had first noticed the drastic change in their mood the year before when they returned from Ramsgate without Miss Darcy’s companion, Mrs Younge. Something grave had happened but no explanation was forthcoming. Mr Darcy at first seemed angry, and only Miss Darcy seemed sad… and totally lacking in confidence. Every decision seemed to require her brother’s approval. So many things she had handled by herself for years, now were impossible for the young woman. She even sought her brother’s approval for her choice of clothes and the style of her hair.
Last autumn after a new companion, Mrs Annesley, had been hired for Miss Darcy, Mrs Reynolds suggested Mr Darcy accept an invitation from his friend Mr Bingley to travel to Hertfordshire to indulge in a bit of sport. It was her opinion that Miss Darcy would never regain her confidence with Mr Darcy hovering in the background.
Instead of being rejuvenated in body and spirit, Mr Darcy, his anger forgotten, returned with alternating frustration and sadness in his eyes. After the holiday season ended, the emotions those around him were allowed to see shifted to deep deliberation mixed with apprehension. To the woman who had known him for so many years, it seemed he had a problem to solve. Mrs Reynolds unaware of any crisis with Pemberley that could be the cause of his continuous contemplation asked if she could help with anything. He had enigmatically told her ‘only I will be able to cut this Gordian knot.’
At some point during the winter of Mr Darcy’s discontent, he appeared to come to a decision. It was shortly after he received a letter from his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, in February. A flurry of activity seemed to overtake him, and he and Mr and Mrs Jenkins spent hours working on some project. These two were the most trusted of his employees. Mr Jenkins had been born on Pemberley to the chief gamekeeper, and he had married one of the maids who had herself been the child of one of the gardeners. Three of their five children were employed on the estate and the two oldest boys had saved enough during their tenure to open a blacksmith’s shop in Lambton. Mrs Reynolds judged that they had been chosen for their discretion and would never be persuaded to divulge any information about the project… so she did not bother to ask.
Before Mr Darcy left for Kent and his annual trip to his aunt for Easter, he had gone to London. Shortly after his return, packages began arriving. He would take them to his study to unwrap behind closed doors. Most appeared to be books, but there were other mysterious things he had acquired. To be honest, she had been a little miffed that he had not confided in her, but when she considered the alteration of his mood for the better, she decided she preferred this industrious master to the angry one inspired by whatever happened in Ramsgate, or the distracted melancholy young man she had observed when he returned from Hertfordshire.
It was in this mood of heightened anticipation that he left with his cousin for Rosings. Unfortunately, a man consumed by misery had returned. During this most recent period, she had observed behaviour so erratic that she sometimes feared for his life. His appetite was greatly diminished and his hygiene was far below his usual fastidious standards. The oddest habit she observed was that he began leaving late at night and not sleeping in his bed. Gossip about him had become rampant among the staff. There was talk of him taking a mistress. The thought was ridiculous to her, as she knew well his somewhat rigid notions of morality and the arrangements his father had made to preclude that possibility. The reality that he appeared not to be particularly determined in his efforts to find a bride fuelled the rumours. She had tried to quash the talk but was certain it still persisted; and the looseness of tongues had been replaced by care to ensure she was not within hearing distance, when they talked about his queer predilection.
Mrs Reynolds hoped he would give up his night time wanderings when he returned tomorrow with Mr Bingley and party. It would not be prudent to promote gossip among ladies and gentlemen of quality. If Miss Bingley became cognizant of this newly developed odd habit, she feared his reputation could suffer.
Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper, greeted them. She was a petite, grey-haired woman whose demeanour spoke of extreme competence. Though respectable-looking, the elderly woman was much less fine and more competent than Elizabeth had any notion of finding her. They followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well-proportioned room. Elizabeth, drawn to the grounds, went to a window to observe the view. From this window, she could see the hill, crowned with woods, from which they had descended. Her eyes travelled to the lake. First the trees hugging its banks and then next the lawn flanked by woods beyond captured her interest. She noticed a small structure in the distance but could not make out what it was. As they passed into other rooms she inevitably found herself at a window and noticed these same sights in different positions; but from every one the beauty was beyond her imaginings. The rooms themselves were lofty and handsome, and their furnishings suitable to the fortune of their proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine.
She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was really away but had not courage for it. At length, however, her uncle asked the question; and she hid her face, as Mrs Reynolds replied, that he was, adding, "However, he is returning tomorrow, with his sister and a large party of friends." Elizabeth let out a muffled gasp and the housekeeper gave her a puzzled stare. She was thankful that their journey had not been delayed by that day, but then her relief was quickly replaced by despair when awareness of what that would mean settled into her consciousness.
Mrs Reynolds continued her explanation. “Mr Darcy has been at home most of the summer, and Miss Darcy has been in London with her companion in order to learn from a particular music master of note. A fortnight ago he travelled to escort his sister home and encourage one of his closest friends to visit.”
Listening closely to the housekeeper’s explanation, she had paid little attention to the new room they had entered. Her aunt called her to look at a picture. As she approached, she saw the likeness of Mr Wickham suspended, amongst several other miniatures, over the mantelpiece. Mrs Gardiner smiled at her and asked her how she liked it. Elizabeth wished she had not called attention to it, but realized her aunt knew not of her altered evaluation of the man. She nodded ever so slightly in acknowledgement of her words.
Mrs Reynolds told them it was the picture of a young gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been educated at the elder Mr Darcy’s expense. She added, "He is now gone into the army, but I am afraid his character is wanting."
Mrs Gardiner gave her niece a questioning look. Elizabeth, in hopes of stifling any conversation, met her aunt’s eyes with a weak smile and quickly turned and pretended to be studying the miniature.
The housekeeper’s curiosity seemed to be piqued by the exchange and her aunt’s probing glance. She pointed to another of the miniatures and said, "this is my master… the likeness is very like him and it was drawn at the same time as the other."
"I have heard much of the fine regard for your master from my friends in Lambton," said Mrs Gardiner. She looked at his picture and once again turned to her niece. "It is a handsome face. Lizzy, what is your opinion? Does it do him justice?"
"Does the young lady know Mr Darcy?"
Elizabeth coloured, and said, "A little, I met him last autumn in Hertfordshire."
"Ah, when he was staying with Mr Bingley. He and his sisters and brother are the party Mr Darcy is bringing from London tomorrow. And do not you think my master a very handsome gentleman, ma'am?"
Elizabeth was worried the observant housekeeper would see the pain in her eyes as she replied, "Yes, very handsome."
The housekeeper’s eyes captured Lizzy’s as she continued. "I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery upstairs you will see a finer, larger portrait of him than this.”
To Elizabeth’s relief, Mrs Reynolds changed the subject. “This room was my late master's favourite and these miniatures are just as they used to be then. He was very fond of them." Their attention was directed to one of Miss Darcy, drawn when she was only eight years old.
"And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?" said Mr Gardiner.
"Oh! Yes! She is the handsomest young lady that ever was seen and so accomplished! She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a new pianoforte. My master used her time away to procure it as a surprise. I look forward to watching her reaction when she comes here tomorrow with him."
Lizzy decided to keep silent. Within a few moments, she became apprehensive about Mr Gardiner’s conversation with the housekeeper. His manners were easy and pleasant, but he was consciously encouraging her communicativeness by his questions and remarks. Mrs Reynolds, either from pride or attachment, seemed to take great pleasure in talking of her master and his sister.
"Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?"
"Not so much as I could wish, sir; but I dare say he may spend half his time here. We have been very lucky this year, as he has been here since April."
Elizabeth stiffened at the revelation of the timing.
Mr Gardiner said with a twinkle, "If your master would marry, you might see more of him."
"Yes, sir; but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good enough for him." Her gaze settled on Lizzy whose eyes widened as she stifled a sigh.
Elizabeth swallowed hard and her hand touched her pocket for comfort. The housekeeper’s stare seemed to be demanding an explanation. Success in calming her traitorous emotions allowed her to speak—though it was not to explain her reaction. "It is very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so."
Mrs Reynolds appeared thoughtful but then continued on with her tribute of Mr Darcy. "I say no more than the truth, and I believe it is what everybody will say that knows him. I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him since he was four years old."
This was praise that despite Lizzy’s change in estimation of him was still opposite to memory. That he was not an amiable man continued to be her opinion when she sketched his character. She had not imagined him saying, ‘My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.’ On that point in particular, she hoped she could be mistaken. Her most fervent desire at that moment was for information… and forgiveness.
Her uncle accommodated her desire. "There are very few people of whom so much could be said. You are lucky to have such a master."
"Yes, sir, I know I am. If I was to go through the world, I could not meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world."
"His father was an excellent man," said Mrs Gardiner.
"Yes, ma'am, that he was; and his son will be just like him. He is definitely just as affable to the poor."
Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. The tour of the house became secondary to her desire to hear additional tales of him. Mrs Reynolds could interest her on no other point.
To Elizabeth’s anxiety, Mr Gardiner became a bit too much like her father in his need to laugh at the kind of prejudice to which he attributed the housekeeper’s excessive commendation of her employer. Luckily, he was more circumspect than his brother-in-law and successfully kept mirth from his facial expression. Again and again, he introduced the subject; and Mrs Reynolds dwelt with energy on her master’s many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase. Several times her uncle looked at her and raised his eyebrow to acknowledge the inside information she had imparted of Mr Darcy’s proud and disagreeable nature. Elizabeth was relieved they were behind the housekeeper.
"He is the best landlord, and the best master," said she, "that ever lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men."
Elizabeth knew him—from both his words in Hertfordshire and his proposal—to be proud; but she wondered whether Mrs Reynolds was correct about his relationship with his tenants and servants. His pride took on a different character when viewed through her amiable estimation.
"This fine account of him," whispered her aunt as they walked, "is not quite consistent with his behaviour to Mr Wickham."
In a voice barely audible Lizzy answered, "Perhaps I might have been deceived."
On reaching the spacious lobby above, they were shown into a very pretty sitting room. It had obviously been lately decorated with greater elegance and lightness than the apartments below. “My master just had this room redone to give pleasure to Miss Darcy. She had taken a liking to the room when last at Pemberley and this is another present he has waiting for her when she returns tomorrow.”
Elizabeth, once again, felt the need to comment. "He is certainly a good brother."
As had become her habit in every room, she walked towards one of the windows. Outside was a view of the bridge they had crossed and the stream before it entered into the lake. The meandering water’s origin seemed to be the densely wooded hills behind the house. An urge to explore those woods for secret ‘nooks and crannies’ as her aunt had encouraged her to imagine, brought on a wave of melancholy as she observed the natural beauty of Pemberley.
Mrs Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's delight, when she should enter the room. "And this is always the way with him," she added. "Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing he would not do for her."
On hearing the housekeeper’s words, Elizabeth acknowledged how much she had chosen to ignore with regards his character once her vanity had been wounded. From the moment he uttered those offensive remarks at the assembly, she had refused to acknowledge her feelings for him. A flash of memory called out the vision of their eyes meeting for the first time. Obviously on reflection—considering the words of his proposal—there had been a powerful attraction that had been denied. What an enticing moment that had been. Never had she experienced anything like his look or her reaction. Expectations for their acquaintance had been raised by that smouldering glance, only to be cruelly dashed when he publicly diminished her to tolerable. The humiliation and confusion she had felt had been overwhelming. Not waiting for clarification, she had immediately determined not to concede how much his words pained her. The conclusion he was not worth her attraction became the most important factor in how she related to him.
The picture and sculpture gallery was all that remained to be shown. Elizabeth was anticipating his portrait, but as they walked down the huge hall she noticed many lovely landscapes and a series of beautiful white marble sculptures. Mrs Reynolds seemed a bit discomposed as she pointed out the nude life size statues of mythological characters. Elizabeth was arrested by a depiction of Achilles observing his ankle. Despite her country origins, she had seen the naked male form depicted in paintings in museums in London. However, this was the first time she had encountered one in all its dimensions. She was drawn by the broad expanse of chest and shoulders, the muscles of his legs… and… She blushed at the level of detail and quickly turned her head. However when her aunt and uncle and Mrs Reynolds had moved on, she peeked again and was overcome by a feeling of warmth and a tug way down in her belly while observing that which was between the legs of the statue.
She walked on and was arrested by a statue of a reclining woman with her posterior on display for all to see. Once again she blushed, but did not avert her eyes. Since it was of a woman, she figured she was not breaching proper behaviour by inspecting the woman’s bottom. She found its shape quite lovely and hoped hers was as alluring. Once again the sight brought to mind those desires she had been having since first meeting him, and she experienced one of those spasms she had come to associate with some form of urge.
Leaving the sculptures behind, she turned her attention to the landscapes. Lizzy noticed from the nameplates that the one of an approaching storm was a Turner; and another one of a country village that reminded her of Meryton was by Constable. Further down there was a grouping of some landscapes not as proficient as the ones they had just viewed, but interesting, none-the-less. One in particular caught her attention. It was of a stone cottage with an arbour of pink roses over the door. The cottage was backed by a heavily wooded hill with a stream meandering down beside the structure. In the background a small waterfall’s cascade could be seen. The place had an enchanted appeal. Mrs Reynolds told her that Lady Anne, her late master’s wife, painted all the landscapes in this grouping. The scenes were all sights somewhere in Derbyshire. Next to these delightful landscapes were some drawings of Miss Darcy's, whose subjects were also scenes around Pemberley. Elizabeth liked the one of the swans swimming on the lake in particular.
Further down the gallery the family portraits began, there were many going back several centuries. None captured her attention until she arrived in front of a family portrait that appeared to be Mr Darcy at around five years of age with his parents and a spaniel. Mrs Reynolds indicated Thomas Gainsborough was the artist. Elizabeth noted he looked a great deal like his father, but he seemed to share his mother’s smile and he did, indeed, appear to be a good-natured boy. Elizabeth lingered in front of the family portrait, and noticed another had not been done after the arrival of Miss Darcy. Soon the quest for his face continued. At last it arrested her with such a smile as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture in earnest contemplation. Mrs Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's lifetime.
There was in Elizabeth's mind, a sensation towards the original that had been building since she first arrived at his estate. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs Reynolds was of no trifling nature. As a landlord, a master and a brother, he was now exemplary in her eyes. Elizabeth considered how much of pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow or how much of good or evil could be done by him. Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character. As she stood before his portrait, his eyes seemed fixed upon her. She recalled a similar look and another much more intimate at the time of his proposal when his eyes had been alternately filled with admiration, anger, passion, and finally pain. Standing before him, his gaze seemed only for her and she flinched as she remembered her cruel words. Tears threatened to spill and it was becoming impossible to hide her laboured breathing.
Several times, Mrs Reynolds had noticed Miss Bennet sighing. Now she was standing before her employer’s portrait on the verge of tears. During the tour, more and more, it became obvious that these two disappointed souls were connected. Some of the housekeeper’s questions had at least partly been answered—both the master of Pemberley and Mr Wickham were known to this pretty young woman. Her expression had been filled with regret as she spoke of Mr Darcy’s handsomeness and that wistfulness had prompted the conclusion that Miss Bennet was somehow involved in the erratic behaviour of her employer. For this assumption, she had little evidence other than instinct. Compassion as the young lady stood gazing at Mr Darcy’s portrait played on her sensibilities. The least she could do was provide her with some privacy. Mr and Mrs Gardiner followed her back down the corridor with little prodding. They also seemed to understand that their niece needed some time alone. When the man in the portrait returned home tomorrow, she would tell him the particulars of this visit and observe his reaction.
Elizabeth turned from the portrait and realized Mrs Reynolds and her aunt and uncle had left her behind. So deep in thought and raw emotions had she been that she had no inkling which direction they had gone. Near to his portrait were some stairs and because she remembered they had climbed some to reach the gallery she decided this must have been their exit. She started down and heard voices drifting up from below. They were not those of her aunt, uncle or Mrs Reynolds or even of refined persons.
“Mrs R. told me to ready four of the quest rooms. She said the master and Miss Darcy will be returning tomorrow with a large party.”
“Did she say for how long?”
“No, but something she said makes me think the party is his friend Mr Bingley and his sisters. The married one is tolerable, but oh, the unmarried one is a right royal pain in the arse. Such a picky one she is.”
“Do you think he’s gonna marry her?
“Ooh, Peg my girl, I hope not. What a disaster that would be. He never paid her much mind in the past.” The woman lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “Still, now that he has a mistress, things might be different.”
“Who do ya think his bit on the side be?”
“All I know is that before he left for London he never slept in his bed. James said he would pick at his dinner and then leave and stay out all night. Why would a man do that unless he was spending time rubbing up against a female?” After a pause and the sounds of mopping, she continued. “I have questioned friends in Lambton and some in service on other estates and no one knows nothing. I think he must have created a love nest for her somewhere very private like.”
The younger of the two voices giggled and said, “Molly, do you think he took her with him to London—in case he got the urge?”
The older one replied with a lascivious laugh. “Mayhap he did. Now that he has someone he enjoys poking, and who obviously does not insist on being shackled to him, he might be more inclined to take a wife. Lord help me for saying this, but that Miss Bingley would be a wise choice if that be the case. She would be so pleased with catching him that she wouldn’t care what else he got up to.”
Another burst of raucous laughter erupted as Molly emphasized the word ‘up.’ Elizabeth felt propriety dictated she should turn away and head back up the stairs, but though her head was spinning, she could not force herself to leave.
The young voice contributed, “Since I came to work here, everyone has always gone on and on about how the master wanted to marry for love… and how much he despised spending time with the quality folk in Town. Phillips told me all them women and their mamas only wanted him for Pemberley, and Mr Darcy hated that. The stories I heard made me hope he would find his one true love.”
“Hmmph, what rubbish these quality folk fret about—and you’re just a foolish girl. The master just needs to find someone from his own set and start making an heir. He doesn’t have to enjoy it as long as he has someone who loves him on the side, what does it matter what his wife is like?” Again there was a pause before anything was added to the conversation. “We would be the ones to suffer if he married a harpy. I would prefer his sickly cousin, she never demands much.”
During the pause Elizabeth became ashamed of her eavesdropping. She turned very quietly to leave. Just as she was about to walk back up, her flight was arrested by a cackle.
“What if her mother decided to live with them? That would be even worse than Miss Bingley. I hope he does not waste all his time with some skirt. It is time for him to do his duty. He can have all the mistresses he wants.” Again ribald laughter floated up the stairs. “He can have one for each of the ways men such as him like it—once he is married.” This was followed by sounds of gesturing and gasps from her audience.
“Oh my, they don’t really like to shove it up there do they? I think that might hurt.”
“True. Most wives object to anything but what will get them with child, which is why lusty men like our master take a piece on the side.”
Those words hit Elizabeth with an unimaginable force. Though spared seeing his disapproval had he caught her impudently roaming the halls of Pemberley, she knew it could hardly have been as distressing as learning he had found someone else he could ‘ardently love.’ And, he could enjoy this one without submitting to a lifelong degradation. Was that what he had wanted from her and she had unwittingly persuaded him that only marriage was possible? Or had he quickly determined she would make a complacent wife, who because of her barely tolerable looks and lowly connections would not question his dalliances? How many different ways were there to like it? She knew so little about the ways of great men. It seemed he was as she thought at the time they met… no gentleman.
As quietly as possible, Elizabeth retraced her steps up the staircase. The painted smile of his portrait momentarily stopped her. How silly to believe she might have remained special in his admiration. This time her glimpse of the eyes, she had imagined were only for her, released the tears she had held at bay before. She willed her legs to move in the opposite direction from the steps she had started down previously. At the end of the long corridor she found the stairs they had climbed to reach the gallery. Rushing down them, she found her way to the entrance hall. A footman opened the front door for her and she hurtled forward never slowing until she was at the stream.
That Mr Darcy would take a mistress was so at odds with her most recent estimation. He had always acted so proper and disapproving of other’s moral lapses. After reading his letter, she had been persuaded that honour was paramount in importance to his character. However, she did not have direct evidence of him never engaging in such actions; but his condemnation of Lydia and Kitty for their forwardness toward the officers suggested he was above reproach himself. Anger was threatening to replace her tears. He must only demand the strictest standards from those beneath him. He was indeed that arrogant man, filled with pride and disdain for those not of his circle, she had always believed him to be.
She hurried along a path close to the stream, and soon came to the bridge they had crossed upon arrival. Once over the rustic span, she proceeded toward a wide avenue with woods on either side. In the far distance, she could now determine what the structure was she had seen from the house. It was a Grecian Temple that looked remarkably like the one at Rosings where he had proposed. The artifice of the temple was at odds with Pemberley’s natural surroundings. The jarring image of the building pulled her inexplicably toward it. About halfway there it began to pour. Despite being soaked within minutes, she continued to run toward the structure instead of taking refuge among the canopy of the trees.
.