Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World (6 page)

But
Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour, and gradually her natural spirits
began to reassert themselves. Her maid bore greatest witness to this, as
Elizabeth became more comfortable with her. Lucy was a lively girl herself,
always ready with a touch of humour, and Elizabeth responded in kind. The other
servants also saw something of Elizabeth's improved spirits, in particular the
gardeners, who answered their new mistress's questions about the Pemberley
grounds with quiet enthusiasm.

Elizabeth
still experienced moments and even days of great loneliness, when she longed
for the comfort of Jane's embrace, or even her younger sisters' silliness. On
occasion the stark beauty of the Derbyshire landscape began to depress her, making
her long for the green fields and quiet hills near Longbourn, but these days
grew less frequent as time passed. The only person who remained without a hint
of Elizabeth's gradual improvement was her husband, in whose company she still
exercised the greatest of care.

She
was determined to give him no cause for complaint.

The
situation continued until one day Darcy informed her he was expecting a brief
visit from his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, en route to his new posting in the
north. The excitement Elizabeth felt at this intelligence was more a reflection
of her hunger for companionship than any particular interest in the Colonel. If
anything, she still felt a slight unease about him over the part he played in
her engagement, as well as the unresolved issue that he himself had been quite
attentive to her until Darcy's interest arose.

Still,
that was in the past, and she was quite indelibly married to Darcy now. She
resolved to consider that history no more, and instead to enjoy their guest's
affability as best she could under the circumstances.

Elizabeth
hummed as she prepared for bed. It was the most pleasant evening she could
remember since coming to Derbyshire. Colonel Fitzwilliam's amiable company had
been enjoyable, even more so since his presence seemed to bring out a new side
of Darcy's personality, a laughing and lively side she quite appreciated after
the sobriety to which she had grown accustomed. She hoped his mood would
persist until he came to her that night--it would be easier for her to relax
with him if he could be less serious. She might even be able to laugh with him.

She
turned with a ready smile when he knocked at the adjoining door, but his
countenance was grave, almost grim. Her smile faltered a little, but she
greeted him pleasantly.

She
could smell the brandy on his breath as he drew near her. He said no more than
he had to, nor did any more than he needed to, skipping even the disquietingly
pleasurable preliminaries. He was neither unkind nor rough, but she felt a
discomfort she usually did not, and she could have wept from disappointment.
When he was done, instead of holding her as was his custom, he left her bed.
Elizabeth said impulsively, "Have I
something
to displease you, sir?"

She
regretted her words almost immediately when his face took on a sullen cast.
"Displease me?" he asked in a voice laden with cynicism. "No, madam;
you are always as careful not to displease me as you seem careful not to please
me."

Elizabeth
paled. "I do not know what makes you think that. I try to please
you."

"Then
why does it require my cousin's presence to show me the woman I thought I was
marrying is not dead? Why is it you can laugh with him and tease him? Was I a
second-best for you, since he could not afford you? Or was marrying me simply
an expedient way to stay in contact with him?" His words came out with
bitter alacrity, as if they had been running through his mind for some time.

Stunned,
Elizabeth said in angry disbelief, "Surely you cannot believe that I ...
" She stopped herself, then continued in a more reasonable voice,

"It
is true I was glad to see him, but not at all for the reasons you seem to
think. I should have been at least as glad to see many other people of my
acquaintance--Mrs. Collins, Mr. Bingley, my sister Jane. I have not yet made
friends in Derbyshire, and I miss my past acquaintances."

"Your
argument would be more persuasive, madam, if you ever showed any of the same
warmth toward me," he said, his voice cold as he advanced toward her.

Her
heart pounded in a mixture of resentment and fear. Her husband was clearly half
in his cups, he was angry at her, and she was quite alone with him, in nothing
but her nightdress, his seed still wet between her legs.

She
was completely at the mercy of the man who had ruined Wickham's life on a whim.
Closing her eyes, she turned her face away into the pillow.

If
he was going to strike her, she did not wish to see it coming.

But
no blow came. Instead she heard only the harshness of his breathing.

"You
have no response, I see."

Elizabeth
bit her lip. "I do not know what response you wish me to make."

"An
honest one, by God! Was he the one you wanted?"

"I
never wanted him. I barely know him." Her voice was low, but firm.

"Then
why have you changed so, ever since our engagement? Why did you agree to marry
me? Was it for my possessions?"

She
shook her head dumbly.

He
sat on the edge of the bed and grasped her shoulders. "Answer my question,
Elizabeth!"

It
could no longer be avoided. "Because you compromised me." She spoke
barely above a whisper, as if by remaining quiet she could avoid his rage.

"Because
I what?" He dropped his hands away from her, looking at her with
disbelief.

"You
kissed me, and we were observed." Her voice was a little stronger this
time as she claimed her truth.

"You
had already accepted me!"

"I
had done no such thing. You declared yourself, but I said nothing, not a
word."

His
eyes narrowed. "You are splitting hairs. You would have accepted me in any
case."

Elizabeth
wished she could throw the truth in the face of his arrogance, but a wiser part
of her prevailed, and she said nothing.

Darcy
swung to his feet and paced across the room. "So you would like to believe
you would have refused me. On what grounds?" He wore the haughty look she
remembered so well from Hertfordshire.

She
felt too vulnerable, lying in bed looking up at his tall form, so she pushed
herself to a sitting position, resting her back against the headboard.
"You ruined my beloved sister's happiness. You disparaged my family. You
had given offence to almost everyone of my acquaintance, and Mr. Wickham himself
told me how you had misused him."

"Mr.
Wickham!" he said contemptuously. "What lies has he told you?"

"He
told me how you disregarded your father's will!" Now she had begun, it was
impossible to stop the words from tumbling out. "My feelings have only
been confirmed by your attitude toward my family. My aunt Gardiner is in every
way the superior of Lady Catherine--in manners, in education, in behaviour--yet
you treat her as less than nothing. I do not deny my mother's lack of
seemliness, but even she would not lock away and attempt to dominate her
child's every movement and thought as your aunt does. My sister Jane, whom you
thought not good enough for your friend, has never uttered an unkind word in
her life, yet you disdain her. It is intolerable."

Darcy
stared at her in savage disbelief. Surely she could not mean what she was
saying? Could she have dissembled to him since their very first day together?
He could see the accusation in her eyes. Every inch of him screamed to deny it,
but the truth was there before him. It was not that she liked his cousin
better, but that she hated him. What a self-deluded fool he had been! He said
in an icy tone, "I can see I am quite unwelcome here. I bid you good
night, madam." Fearing his ability to control himself, he stalked out of
her room and closed the adjoining door behind him, the same door whose existence
had given him such ineffable pleasure when he first brought Elizabeth to
Pemberley.

He
retreated into the darkness of his bedchamber. The jealousy he had felt earlier
seemed trivial now.

Elizabeth
did not love him. She had never loved him. She had taken him to her bed, again
and again, with nothing but dislike and contempt in her heart.

He
did not know how he was to live through the night.

Chapter 6

Elizabeth's
eyes barely closed during the night. The scene with Darcy kept replaying itself
before her eyes. What had possessed her to utter such words to the man who held
complete control over her life? Had it not been difficult enough without
earning her husband's enmity? If she had felt alone before, it was nothing to
what she would experience now, without even his conversation for company. She
had no resources, nowhere to turn for support, no matter how unkind he became.
She was his wife, and in the eyes of the law, his property. He could do
whatever he liked to her, and she would have no recourse. It was precisely the
situation she had always feared, and why she had wished to marry for affection.

When
dawn lit the windows, she knew choices must be made. One obvious course was to
avoid aggravating Darcy's jealousy of Colonel Fitzwilliam.

She
did not go down to breakfast, and she managed to find enough small business to
prevent her from making anything more than the briefest of greetings to their
guest during the day. She could not evade him at dinner, but she chose to speak
only when spoken to, playing an old game of pretending to be Jane and answering
each question as Jane would. She suppressed her instinct to avoid meeting her
husband's eyes and instead acted as if nothing unusual had passed between them.
His coolness, however, was unmistakable.

He
did not appear in her bedchamber that night. Elizabeth, sick with relief at the
respite, wondered how long it would continue. Though his displeasure with her
was clear, neither his words nor actions were reproach-able. It occurred to
Elizabeth he might be biding his time until Colonel Fitzwilliam left, not
wishing to act out his marital discord in front of his cousin. The day she
stood at Darcy's side, waving goodbye to the Colonel in his carriage, she felt
true panic.

But
nothing changed. Darcy avoided looking at her, and spoke to her only as
necessary and to preserve appearances in front of the servants. Nor did he come
to her room, or seek out her company at any point. However little she might
return his affection, she had grown to enjoy his companionship, at least
compared to the barrenness of the remainder of her life.

She
wondered how long his silence would last, and if it would ever end. But even
she, who once had not hesitated to speak her mind to the formidable Lady
Catherine de Bourgh, now found she dared not approach her grimly silent
husband.

She
dreaded their meals together. It was difficult to eat when faced with

his
hostility, and she had little appetite in any case. Still, she forced herself
to appear for meals, and nodded in agreement with anything he said.

One
morning at breakfast, he gave her a perfunctory greeting, but as was now his
custom said nothing until the servants came in to clear the dishes.

Then
he said, "Your aunt and uncle Gardiner are making a northern tour soon,
are they not?"

She
was startled to hear him raise the subject of her family. "Yes, I believe
that is still their plan."

"Where
do they intend to travel?"

"The
last I heard they hoped to go to the Lakes." And would God I were still
unmarried, and going with them as originally planned!
She swallowed a lump in her throat.

"They
are likely to travel through Derbyshire, then," he said, his voice as remote
as ever. "You should invite them to stay here on their way."

Elizabeth
raised her eyes to stare at him. She could hardly question him with the
servants listening to every word. It was hard to credit he was changing his
position on her family when his voice and countenance were devoid of warmth.

Whether
he meant her to act on it or not, surely it was an olive branch, and she did
not want him to think her ungrateful. "Thank you. It is very generous of
you."

"I
shall see you at dinner, then, madam," he said, clearly intending an end
to the conversation, and he took his departure.

Afterwards
she puzzled over his behaviour. She could not imagine he would actually wish
any of her family to be at Pemberley, even if he were willing to suffer it for
her sake. Perhaps he was tired of the coldness between them, and intended this
as a gesture of his willingness to compromise. Yes, most likely that was it.

If
so, she would meet him halfway; she did not wish to spend the rest of her life
like this. She considered what she could do in return, but she had nothing to
offer him. Finally the memory of his words during their quarrel returned: '
What lies has Mr. Wickham told you? ' Perhaps she could respond to that, show a
willingness to hear his side of the story. After all, it was not as if Wickham
had offered her any proof of his tale, and perhaps it was open to more than one
interpretation. She had to admit that Wickham's description of Darcy's
behaviour was not consistent with what she herself had observed in him; he was
a generous and fair landlord, and it was hard to imagine him deliberately
cheating someone.

It
was even possible, she supposed, that what Darcy had suggested was true: that
Wickham had lied to her. A sensation of coldness came over her at the thought;
what if she had believed the wrong man, and levelled false accusations at her
husband? Wickham had never given her any cause to disbelieve him, but she
should have sought out the truth of the matter long ago.

It
took her until afternoon to convince herself to act on the question. She went
to Darcy's study and hesitated at the closed door, shutting her eyes as if
trying to summon her courage. Delaying would do her no good. She knocked firmly
at the door. On hearing her husband's voice, she entered.