Mr. Darcy's Promise (19 page)

“No, please, I beg of you not to interrupt.” She took a deep breath and ensured his silence before she continued. “My mind was quite decided against the marriage and I felt forced into doing it. You looked so anxious at the wedding that I knew you felt the same way.” She heard him take a deep breath filling the darkness. This was going to be harder than she thought. “And in the carriage, I could not stop crying, no matter what I did. I was in a very dark place. It was not until today that I realized how kind you had been to me to wipe away the tears when I had not the energy to do so. I must thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shown me. I did not know what to expect when we married, but I have been treated fairly and for that I must thank you.” She lifted his hand off her waist and kissed it before she held it in her own.

Darcy was grateful for the darkness as well, for his eyes had tears forming in them. He thought about her words. He wanted her to feel more than his kindness and generosity, and he wanted more from her than her thankfulness. He did not trust his voice, for his eyes were treacherous already. He started leading her through the darkness but only got a few steps before she cried out.

“No, wait! We must put the eggs back!” She was still cradling one in her palm, and let go of his hand to search for the other on the hay. She could not find it. She knelt down and felt around, careful to move lightly. “I cannot find it, Fitzwilliam!” Her voice was frantic. She heard him step behind her, making his way in her direction.

“Where did you put it?” He could hear her hands rustling the hay. From where her voice came from, he could tell that she had bent over or was kneeling. He followed the sounds until his hands found her shoulders. He knelt beside her and started feeling around for the egg. He heard her sniffle and knew that she had begun to cry. Yes, these eggs meant something more than simple farm animals or even a hobby of hers. His hand touched something round and warm. “I found it!”

She reached her hands over to where his voice was and found his shoulders. In spite of any hesitation, she pulled him close to her and cried, “Thank you! You do not know how relieved I am!”

His arms wrapped around her and held her close. He relished in the warmth of her body but then realized she was shaking. “Are you chilled?”

She pulled away and said, “I only brought my shawl because I did not think it would take this long.”

He released her completely and took off his jacket. “Now, where are you? If I may, I will place this coat on your shoulders, but I fear I cannot see what I am doing.”

She spoke then and felt the warm coat being brought around her shoulders. She tilted her head down and smelled the comforting cedar and sage, grateful then that he couldn’t see her do it. They picked their way back to the nest box and slid the eggs under the hen. He took her hand and started making his way out of the barn. It was slow work, not only because he couldn’t see anything but because he didn’t want the moment to end. Once outside, the moon shone through the clouds enough to help them find their way back to the
house. Even when they were inside, Darcy couldn’t find it in himself to let go of her hand. They found the halls were still lit up with one or two candles. He took one of the candles with his free hand and continued to walk with her. He knew she should get warmed up soon or she would risk a fever. He led her to the library and set her down on the chaise while he stoked the fire.

Elizabeth, still shivering, looked around curiously. She hadn’t spent much time in the grand library at Pemberley because of the cataloging being done. She had lingered in the front room, and sometimes ventured down a time or two to get a new book but that was it. The walls were lined with books, and two aisles of books reached halfway out into the room. Books were everywhere, in piles, on the floor, on the tables stacked five high, and in the corners.

Darcy saw her looking around the room. “Forgive the disorder. If we can but endure it a little while longer, the cataloging will be complete and it will be the most organized room in Pemberley.”

“Oh, I do not mind,” she said with a small smile. “Papa’s study looked much the same.
Although he suffered from an excess of books and a scarcity of shelves. It reminds me of home.” The heat of the fire began to grow, and she stood to approach it. He knelt with his back to her, still adding wood to it. She hesitated at the sight of his broad shoulders and the shape of his arms in his fine linen shirt. Her hand reached for his shoulder before she knelt beside him. The fire was burning merrily, now, and she held her hands out in front of the flames. She sat wrapped in his jacket, leaving only her fingertips visible in front of the fire. They sat in silence for some time.

He remembered that she called Longbourn home. He had hoped she felt comfortable at Pemberley. “Do you miss Longbourn?”

She contemplated the question. “Not as much as I thought I would. Jane is faithful in her letter writing and tells me all I am missing. My father is much the same.” She laughed softly after a moment. “My mother does not stop telling all who will listen about how I managed to find ‘such a fine husband’ with my impertinent ways. And when she is not doing that, she is making wedding plans. Jane tells me all about Mr. Bingley and their engagement.” Elizabeth didn’t tell him about how Jane told her of her first kiss.

“She is happy,” she continued, since it seemed that Mr. Darcy was still listening curiously. “And it seems Lydia and Kitty
are just as preoccupied with the officers as they always have been. Mary found a new book on sermons and has started spouting her newfound opinions on the role of the woman in the home. It seems she is displeased with our mother’s long-fixed habits. Oh, and Charlotte Lucas has had a new suitor visiting regularly. He is much older than she is, but he has been kind to her.”

“Indeed! Well, she is a fine lady and would make a fine wife.”

She smiled brightly at him. “And now you know all the happenings in Longbourn.”

“For which I am very grateful, I assure you,” he said with a smile back to her.

They sat there in front of the fire talking. The fire burned hotter, forcing both of them to step back in turn and sit down on the floor. The conversation was invigorating and helped both, although sporadically, to divert their thoughts of their moment in the barn an hour ago. Each one would play out the scenario differently. Darcy would chastise himself for almost kissing her one moment, then the next he pictured himself kissing her freely and passionately. His imagination was quite keen.

Elizabeth was reliving the feel of his hands on her waist and the intimacy of their foreheads touching. Had she imagined their almost-kiss? She wondered if he was starting to have feelings for her like she was for him. She understood now that she would welcome his kisses, and blushed at the thought.

Darcy stopped in the middle of the conversation to touch her cheek. “You are flushed. Is the fire too hot?”

She blushed deeper
, as embarrassed as if she had spoken her thoughts aloud. “No, but perhaps it is time to retire.” She started to rise but he was quicker and assisted her up. They walked in silence up the grand staircase, walking slower than usual. It seemed that neither one wanted the moment to end.

He escorted her to her room and then stopped her outside the door. “Elizabeth, you were wrong in the barn about something.”

Fears that she really did imagine him wanting to kiss her resurfaced and she stood taller.
Why is it that in the moment I find him most intriguing, I set myself up for embarrassment?
“About what, Mr. Darcy?” She asked coolly.

Mr. Darcy noticed her cold tone and faltered in his resolve. She had returned to calling him Mr. Darcy. He decided he must tell her anyway if she were to feel more than kindness and generosity from him. “You said you thought I felt forced into the marriage. I just wanted to clarify that I did not, and do not feel that way. It was the best thing that could have happened to me.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and went to his own room. He resolved not to look back for once, and missed seeing Elizabeth’s mouth open in shock.

E

lizabeth removed Darcy’s jacket and looked at it. She should give it back to him this very night, she knew. But still . . . she brought it up to her nose and inhaled that wonderful smell.
He did not feel forced into the marriage
!
She couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Perhaps her hope of true companionship was possible after all. The whole day had held so many moments where she had felt close to him. She folded the jacket thoughtfully before ringing for Serafina. While waiting, Elizabeth began to take down her hair. She mused over his parting words. He had said, “It was the best thing that could have happened to me.” If it hadn’t been for the softness and warmth in his tone, she might have doubted his sincerity.

No. He had meant what he said. But did he mean marriage in general, or did he mean marriage to her? Their marriage wasn’t typical; at least not yet, but they shared plenty of time together. Granted, their newfound affinity had not been her intention initially, but she quickly discovered she didn’t mind it; and even found herself anticipating their time together. Her feelings for him had grown with a force beyond anything she could have predicted. It was just like the hen, she thought with a quiet smile. She had no control of the situation she was in; something outside of her decided it. True, it hadn’t been what she wanted, or even at the time in her life that she had thought it would occur. But as she was forced to spend time with him, something deep in her heart urged her to continue. It was an instinct that she was unable to control, just as the hen was compelled to make a nest and nurture her eggs. Elizabeth just hoped that whatever blossomed between them could weather the storms of life, just as she hoped the chicks’ feathers would come in before the winter storms. She hoped, and realized how good it felt to hope that perhaps someday there would be more than companionship in her marriage. She felt herself smiling again at the thought.

Elizabeth looked over when Serafina entered. “I am ready for bed,” Elizabeth said. She pulled out the last hairpin and set it on the vanity. Although with these new thoughts racing through her mind, she doubted she would sleep until far later this evening.

“Yes, madam.”
She took the brush from her mistress’ hand and began to brush Elizabeth’s hair. Serafina looked over at the master’s jacket on the bed with a smile.
So they are finally together?
It made her heart happy, for she had learned to love her mistress deeply, and could see the changes in her eyes over the last few weeks. “Perhaps a bath before the master comes back?”

Elizabeth had been sitting with her eyes
closed, enjoying having her hair brushed but they flew open in surprise! Why would Serafina say such a thing? Had he told his valet that he was coming to her room tonight? She couldn’t ask such a question of Serafina because a servant would, or at least should, know less than her. Would she accept him if he did? She knew she wanted him to kiss her but that was much different from being man and wife in truth! She would have to be discreet in her search for information. She schooled her features before she replied, glancing at herself in the mirror to make certain that she appeared composed.

“No, if I am not mistaken he has retired for the night; he did not say so exactly, but he appeared fatigued when he left.” She watched Serafina closely. Sadness, but not confusion, was portrayed through her eyes. So Serafina had hoped he would come again? Why? She decided one of Serafina’s greatest virtues was her honesty and willingness to voice her opinions when asked. “You were hoping he would come back?”

Serafina blushed in embarrassment before examining her mistress’ face. Earlier she had seen surprise that had now transformed into anxiety. “He is always happier when he has been with you. That is what Martin says. And you seem much more content tonight than any other night.”

Relief that Mr. Darcy was not coming to her tonight washed over her. “It was a good day,” Elizabeth said after a moment. “We spent a great deal of time together. I . . . I enjoy his company very much.”

Serafina’s eyes brightened and she smiled. “Then tomorrow we will make you look spectacular and you shall have another wonderful day.” She helped her change into her nightdress. “Will there be anything else tonight, madam?”

“No, thank you, I am just going to finish writing a letter to my sister Jane and then I will retire.” She felt suddenly exhausted and wanted to crawl right into bed. She forced herself to her desk, intending all the while to write before hesitating. She was just too tired. Jane’s letter would have to wait.

She crawled under the covers but her eyes refused to close. She reached back to fluff her pillow and got a whiff of something familiar. She sat up abruptly. Had he come in her room after all? Although she hadn’t heard anything, the scent of cedar and sage wafted through the air. She looked all around, blinking against the darkness before she decided to light a candle, but couldn’t see him in the darkness. No, no one was in her room, and certainly not him.
Then why can I smell him?
She blew out the candle and rolled over, her face hitting something cold and hard and round. It was the buttons on his jacket! She laughed out loud.
This is the composed and calm Mrs. Darcy!
She gathered up the coat and smelled it once again. She still had it in her arms as her heavy eyelids drifted shut, and she slid into a very restful, but familiar, dream-filled sleep.

*****

A few days later, Elizabeth decided it was time to start acting like the mistress of Pemberley. She had explored it every day for almost a fortnight, but knew very little about what made it run. She definitely did not know what her role was or the expectations Fitzwilliam had for her. She could not, however, forget the fact that he had not said he didn’t feel forced into the marriage. Her mind had turned it over and over, trying to decipher what he meant. Each day she spent at Pemberley, she felt a slowly forming pride in the fact that she was married to the master of Pemberley, and a growing need to act the part of its mistress. Armed with these thoughts and feelings, she asked to meet with the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds.

“Thank you for meeting with me. I must admit I have enjoyed being here, but feel like I have benefitted too long and am ready to take up my responsibilities. You were here when Mrs. Darcy, Mr. Darcy’s mother, was still alive, correct?”

“Yes, madam. She was a fine woman,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

“I first would like to enquire into my duties and what might be expected of me. I am new to this position and know that you have managed it successfully since her passing. I suppose I will need to know what Mrs. Darcy did and how to best do it.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Darcy. May I ask first what kinds of things interest you? I have found that a woman is happiest when she runs her house based on her own convictions, rather than what other great women have done before her.”

Elizabeth was impressed with such wisdom. She could tell she would have much to learn from this housekeeper who had been here for so long. “I enjoy the outdoors a great deal. The grounds have captured my interests so far, and I confess that I have neglected the household completely in comparison. But that is not to say I do not enjoy or value the proper running of the house. I also have a great desire to know more of the people here. I have been very impressed with the staff so far.”

“Well madam, I suggest we start with your two interests: the grounds and the people. I think these are very wise places to begin. I can have the groundskeeper meet with you this afternoon so you may learn and discuss your desires with him. He has been in service here for years and his son has followed in his father’s footsteps. You will find him very knowledgeable and obliging. I understand Hertfordshire has different terrain and a slightly warmer climate, but if there are native plants you would like to grow that remind you of home, he will be able to tell you if they will do well in this soil.” Mrs. Reynolds evaluated Elizabeth’s face, and decided that the master’s new wife did not seem to be too proud. She would even accept guidance from a servant.

“Thank you, I will take that into consideration.
And what of the people? I am very anxious to know the staff and tenants but I confess I do not know where to start.” Elizabeth knew Mr. Darcy cared for each servant and treated them with respect. This was one area where she knew their feelings were in perfect accord. She wanted to know them individually, just as he did. She did not want to dismiss them as faceless entities who served her.

“The mere fact that you care to know them will be all the start you need,” Mrs. Reynolds assured her. “I am sure it will not take long for you to feel absolutely at home as the mistress of Pemberley.” She paused. “It is a great pity; I know Georgiana had started to visit the tenants before she left for London but she seems to be so out of sorts lately.”

Elizabeth could see a motherly concern come across Mrs. Reynolds’ face and reminded herself to find some way of speaking with Georgiana. Georgiana had been anxious and frequently tearful since her return, and although Elizabeth hadn’t found the right moment to approach her, it was always at the forefront of her mind. She made a mental note to find a moment today. Perhaps some service visits would cheer her up. She had a thought and posed the question to Mrs. Reynolds. After all, the housekeeper had known her since Georgiana was a babe in arms. “I too have noticed she is in a poor mood, quite withdrawn and even a bit fearful. Do you know of any way I might be able to lift her spirits?”

“Well, we have hosted an Autumn Festival in years past for all the tenants and servants. It might be something to consider. She would probably enjoy it as it has been a favorite of hers in the past. It might be an excellent way for you to get acquainted with the tenants as well.”

“We held a ball after summer at Longbourn, but what exactly is Pemberley’s Autumn Festival?”

“Oh, I am sure it is much the same. It is somewhat like an informal ball with a lot of music, dancing, and wonderful food. We usually get quite a turn out.”

Elizabeth spoke with Mrs. Reynolds about the Autumn Festival for a few more minutes, all the while feeling her excitement grow at the thought. Could she really preside over a festival like the one Mrs. Reynolds’ described? She was reassured by the thought that Mrs. Reynolds was all kindness and discreet guidance, and Elizabeth would have months— even years— to fully take on all the responsibilities that were now hers. Afterwards, they discussed the menu for the dinner meal. Elizabeth felt for the first time that Pemberley was beginning to feel like home. A feeling of peace overcame her.

“Thank you, you have been most helpful.”

Mrs. Reynolds nodded, hesitating before she continued. “Mrs. Darcy, I feel I need to inform you of something. The kitchen maid has reported some missing silver. She was putting it away after dinner last night and there were several pieces out of place. She and I together thoroughly searched the kitchen this morning right before this meeting, but I am afraid there are four sets of spoons, forks, and knives that are unaccounted for.”

Her eyes opened wider. “Have they been misplaced? I cannot imagine that anyone would steal them.”

“No madam, you can trust the staff implicitly. I am sure they were just misplaced. I just felt you should know.” Mrs. Reynolds didn’t feel the conviction that her words portrayed but hoped not to cause Mrs. Darcy any unnecessary worry.

After asking if Mr. Darcy had been informed, Elizabeth thanked her. Apparently he had been. Not knowing what else she could do at the moment, she then dismissed Mrs. Reynolds.

The weather had remained rainy through the morning and into the afternoon, so feeding the chickens with Mr. Darcy was not an option. Since he was busy with his steward, she thought she would venture to the library. They had gone out every morning for a walk, and every day after lunch to feed the chickens. She found herself disappointed that they could not today.

After the night that they had candled the eggs together and she had imagined that he might kiss her, he seemed changed somehow. She couldn’t quite explain why, but knew for certain that he seemed . . . different. It was like being near her was great, but to talk to her and engage her in conversation seemed to please him more. It seemed like their first few weeks of marriage had been akin to their first dance at Netherfield; no one spoke, but each touch and look exchanged was physically moving. But these last three days was more like their last dance where they talked and laughed, each time feeling a little more acquainted with the other.

She couldn’t decide which “dance” she preferred. She might enjoy a brief touch of his hand or a kiss on her hand, but it created such turmoil inside of her. And their conversations impressed her with his strength of character and thoughtful, educated speech. One thing was certain, however, and that was that she felt like they were becoming friends. They were no longer mere strangers fated to live together. She smiled at this thought. Companionship was all she had hoped for and it looked like it had already passed that.

These thoughts kept her company on her walk to the library. She had finished the book she was reading and was in the mood for a good, intriguing book that would reflect the stirrings and hope that she currently felt.

She looked admiringly up at the two-storied wall of books as she entered. A ladder rolled around the room in order to reach the upper shelves. She had wondered what it would be like to glide around the room high up on the ladder. The servant, who was usually here cataloging the books, was not present. She glanced around at the empty room before she hiked up her skirts and climbed about half way up. She pushed her hand against the shelves. The ladder only moved a few feet.
Well, I suppose I will need to put a little more heart into it.
She gripped the ladder before stretching out her leg and kicking hard against the shelf. The ladder rolled easily some fifteen feet away at great speed, making her hair catch in her open, smiling mouth. Elizabeth laughed, pulling her hair back before she did it in the opposite direction. This time she went even further. She continued to do this, learning along the way that she needed to hold onto the ladder with both hands or risk falling to the floor when it jolted to a halt. She had nearly taken a tumble, but now found herself enjoying the challenge of making it all the way to the end. She was absorbed in attempting to go further and faster when she was interrupted by a voice.