Chapter
12
The winter time
began to fade. The days became longer and the weather, though still cold, was
pleasant, announcing the spring to come.
The warmth of the
new season brought Miss Darcy back from Bath
where she stayed for three weeks in the company of her cousin, the Earl’s
eldest son, and his wife, allowing the newlyweds some privacy after their
wedding.
Georgiana was happy
to be back at home but at the same time nervous about meeting her new sister-in-law.
Shy by nature, Georgiana was experiencing the fears that usually accompanied
introductions of this calibre. Although in this case, other circumstances had
been the means of increasing her worries, making her even more apprehensive
about the formidable encounter. In his letter, her brother did not comment on
his first weeks of marriage. Darcy was not one who expressed himself with much
effusiveness but Georgiana had somehow expected more cheerfulness in a newlywed
or at least some expressions that showed he was happy with his new stature. His
missive was brief, bringing up only trivial matters and empty of the warmth he
usually transmitted when he wrote to her. The fact that Elizabeth didn’t write to her only
served to increase her apprehension for the meeting. She enquired after her
–Georgiana had no courage to write to her directly and her brother never
asked her to do so- yet Darcy’s reply was succinct and polite, informing
her of his wife’s welfare and transmitting her salutations and
well-wishes during her stay in Bath.
“Welcome
home, dearest.” Darcy held her by her shoulders, at an arm’s
length. “You look much grown since you left.”
“I am so
happy that I am back. I missed you dearly.” Georgiana smiled warmly at
her brother. She saw no distress in his features and her doubts about his
felicity began to fade. “Where is Mrs Darcy?”
Darcy was able to
keep his smile on his face when he replied. “In her rooms. She will be
here in a moment.”
Upstairs, the young
wife readied herself for the meeting with her new sister with great
despondency. This had not been a good day for Elizabeth. Her moodiness was the product of
the news she received from Longbourn that came in the shape of a most
unpleasant letter her mother had decided to send her. Mrs. Bennet, who had not
written one single line since her wedding, chose this first correspondence to
express her wish to be invited to Pemberley where she expected to spend the
summer months. Elizabeth
could almost imagine how vexed her intolerant husband would become if this
information fell in his hands. His dislike of her mother had always been
painfully evident and Elizabeth
did not want to suffer the aggravation of witnessing his disdainful expression
if she shared this circumstance with him.
Mrs. Bennet also
reserved an entire paragraph to describe Jane’s present misery. She
blamed her for not being able to secure Mr. Bingley’s affection and dared
to compare her current situation with Elizabeth’s.
She even congratulated her second eldest for her success in securing the match
to Mr. Darcy. What kind of mother could rejoice in her daughter’s
disgrace? How could she insinuate that Jane had done that on purpose? Her mother’s words hurt her and the
selfishness and lack of tact angered her beyond limit. In that woeful mood, the
new Mrs. Darcy joined her husband and sister for tea.
“Miss
Darcy,” Elizabeth
entered the room. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”
Georgiana dropped a
deep courtesy. She had expected her new sister to address her with more
familiarity, but the distance with which Elizabeth
had begun the conversation forced her to reply in the same manner. “The
pleasure is mine, Mrs. Darcy.”
“I hope your
journey back home was a pleasant one.” Elizabeth sat on a chair placed opposite to
the sofa where Georgiana and Darcy had chosen to sit.
“It was,
thank you.”
“I have never
been in Bath
before. Is it as beautiful as I hear?”
“Yes, very
beautiful.”
“I assume
there are many amusements for young ladies like you to be fully
entertained.”
“Yes, there
are.”
“Did you
attend the theatre during your stay?” Elizabeth attempted to expand the
conversation.
“Twice,
yes.”
The new Mrs. Darcy
asked a few more questions, extracting similarly brief replies from her
sister-in-law. Not in the best of spirits, Elizabeth was becoming exceedingly vexed at
the girl’s apparent aloofness. This conversation reminded her so much to
those she had had with her husband while they were still engaged. She struggled
to find subjects; he stared out of the window. It seemed that the Darcys had
not been educated in the basics of politeness and social etiquette. Not willing
to carry on with the conversation all by herself, she decided not to say
anything else and concentrated on drinking her tea.
Darcy, noticing
that this first meeting between sisters was not proceeding the way he had
expected, made his contribution to sustain the dying colloquy. “My uncle
owns a very handsome house in Royal
Crescent. Perhaps we could go there in the
future.”
“Oh,
yes,” Elizabeth
said without enthusiasm, “that would be agreeable.”
“The
architecture is indeed most extraordinary,” he pointed out. “Albeit
the city is not as fashionable for gentry and nobility as it used to be. Now
they tend to prefer the seaside.”
“I can
imagine,” his wife replied to what she thought was an extremely snobbish
remark.
“My cousin
Edward said he will stay until the end of March. He likes Bath very much.” Georgiana commented.
“Pray, tell
me, Miss Darcy, what is your favourite diversion while in Bath?” Elizabeth enquired, trying to show interest
in her sister’s occupations. Perhaps the girl would take notice of her
incivility and show her the courtesy of inquiring about Elizabeth’s tastes for a change.
Georgiana hesitated
for a moment, then, after a glance at her brother, replied with a simple,
“I do not usually leave the house. I like to play the piano.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips as
she waited for Georgiana to elaborate further. When that did not happen, she
tried one more question. “Do you join your cousin there very
often?”
“Not too
often. Sometimes I vacation in Ramsgate.”
The moment these
words came out of her mouth, Georgiana paled and looked at her brother, who now
seemed preoccupied. Foreign to the reason of their sudden altered humour, Elizabeth tried another
subject, but for some unexplainable reason, Miss Darcy seemed unable to compose
sentences that contained more than three words. Becoming increasingly annoyed, Elizabeth decided she had
had enough.
“If you will
excuse me,” she rose suddenly, “I must see a few things with the
housekeeper. Shall I see you at dinner, Miss Darcy?”
“Yes, you
shall,” the girl smiled timidly.
“Perhaps you
should go upstairs to refresh yourself and rest before dinnertime,” Darcy
offered gently. “You must be tired from your trip.”
Georgiana did as
she was asked and they all met later at the dining table.
At dinner, things
did not improve. If Elizabeth
thought that Miss Darcy’s arrival would bring relief to her distress and
sensible conversation, she was in for utter disappointment, because frustration
was the only thing she obtained. Georgiana, not feeling completely at ease in
her presence yet, was very reserved and spoke only when addressed during the
meal. Elizabeth’s
efforts to make the young girl talk seemed fruitless and her patience was
running short.
To add more fuel to
the growing fire, Elizabeth
sensed that, since Georgiana’s arrival, Darcy’s eyes were
constantly on her. She felt observed, judged. Was he displeased with her
behaviour? Or maybe he did not think she was good enough to be in his
sister’s company? He could not expect her to be lively and amiable in
front of such discouraging companion. After three weeks of loneliness, of
conversing only with her husband and the servants and discussing only household
related matters, Elizabeth
was desperate for sensible conversation with another woman that did not belong
to the staff. But, Miss Darcy did not oblige and appeared unable to provide her
with at least some inconsequential talk.
When they moved to
the music room, Darcy politely asked his wife if she would delight him and his
sister with a song at the pianoforte. This was the first time he had asked her
to play since their wedding. It was a well intended request motivated by his
desire to give more warmth to the evening, but one that Elizabeth chose to interpret the worst
possible way. In her troubled state of mind, she imagined he was merely trying
to expose her in front of his most accomplished sister. In fact she had heard
so much of the young girl’s supposed proficiency that she would have
liked to give up the honour and let the girl entertain her brother. But,
recalling her vows, Elizabeth
did what was asked. In an even darker disposition, she sat in front of the
instrument, and played.
From his armchair,
Darcy observed his wife with reflective eyes. How he had longed to hear her
play. He had heard her practicing a couple of times from his study, but he had
never ventured closer to watch her perform. He did not want to importune her
with his presence so he had denied himself the pleasure and limited himself to
listen from afar. He had always been a
keen admirer of the gracefulness of her figure as her fingers moved over the
keyboard and particularly loved how her brow furrowed in concentration when she
was faced with a difficult passage. Albeit he had been tempted to ask her to
play several times, he did not think wise to voice such request until now; as
things had not been well enough between them. But tonight things seemed
different. There was something unusual about her, a new sparkle, something he
could not decipher that had driven his eyes towards her all night long and that
made it impossible to look elsewhere. Was it a blush on her cheeks? Or that
loose lock of hair on the nape of her neck? Whatever it was, it was an
appealing change that he found enticing.
Since that day he
saw her in tears, Darcy had been increasingly concerned about her welfare and
happiness. As time passed, her mood improved and her liveliness seemed somehow
restored. She seemed reconciled with her new life, more comfortable, more at
ease. Georgiana was already home and he was certain that with his
sister’s company, things would improve. That was what his wife needed,
the company of another woman. His sister was still too timid when in her
presence but once she overcame her shyness, he was sure they would become good
friends. In time, all would be well.
But Darcy’s
wrong assumption put him off guard and did not prepare him for what was to
come.
As soon as Elizabeth finished her
song, Georgiana, tired from her trip, made her excuses and retired to her
bedchamber, leaving the couple to themselves. Elizabeth left the pianoforte and went to the
settee to work on her embroidery.
Darcy was the first
to break the silence, praising his wife for her performance. Elizabeth accepted the compliment with an
insincere smile.
“I received a
letter from Longbourn this morning,” said Elizabeth a few minutes later.
“I hope it
contained good news,” Darcy said, taking pains to sound interested.
“Nothing has
changed much since I left. But one cannot expect it to be different; it is,
after all, a confined and unvarying society.”
The gentleman
recognized his own words and did not like how they sounded on her lips.
“I recall going to very pleasant assemblies at Lucas Lodge. Has Lady
Lucas not organized such events during the winter?”
“Yes, she
has. There was even a ball at the Assembly rooms, too. But you know how it is
for my mother and my youngest sisters, it is never enough for them.”
“I can well
imagine,” he smiled and returned to his book.
“Mama also
tells me that the regiment is about to leave Meryton. They will probably encamp
in Brighton for the summer. You can imagine Lydia’s
and Kitty’s despair with the news, they are almost as miserable as Jane
has been since Mr. Bingley’s departure.”
Darcy stole a quick
glance in his wife’s direction. He did not like her tone. She spoke about
her family as if talking about gardening. After a moment of reflection he
realized that, if he was not careful, this conversation would end in an
argument and that was the last thing he wanted. He chose not to reply and just
nodded circumspectly.
But Elizabeth was not willing
to let him go easily and resumed her attack.
“Mr.
Darcy,” she began in an extremely civil manner, “will you go to
your club tomorrow morning, as usual?”
The insincere
amiability in her tone made him even more suspicions. “No, I will
not.”
Elizabeth exhaled noisily
and shook her head.
Darcy observed her
for a moment and then said, “I thought you may like to go to the park
tomorrow morning with Georgiana. You have stayed indoors for too long. I shall
be delighted to accompany you.”
“It took you
a long time to allow yourself to be seen in my company,” Elizabeth replied without raising her eyes
from her embroidery.
“Mrs.
Darcy,” he commanded himself to remain calm. “It has been so cold
these past weeks that I did not think it prudent to leave the house.”
“Oh,”
she lifted her eyebrows innocently. “And you choose to inform me of your
decision just now. I made plans for tomorrow morning.” She was lying.
There were no plans. She just wanted a good fight.
“I thought
you would welcome a walk in the park .You have always enjoyed walking in the
past. It was not my intention to interfere with your schedule.” As much
as he tried not to, Darcy was becoming annoyed with her unfair attack.
“Perhaps you can change your plans
and accompany us to the park.”
“Of
course,” she stopped embroidering and faced him angrily. “My plans are of no consequence to you and can be changed whenever you decide to tour the park with me.”
Following the
wisdom of the biblical proverb(*), Darcy preferred to leave before the quarrel
broke out. He rose, tugging his coat down in an attempt to keep his temper in
check.
“Madam, I
will not make an argument out of a simple stroll in the park. We shall leave it
for another time when you are better disposed to enjoy it. Now, if you excuse
me,” he bowed, “I will retire. Good night, Mrs. Darcy.”
(*)Proverb 17:14. The beginning of strife is like
breaching a dam, therefore stop contention before quarrelling breaks out.
Later that night,
Darcy sat in front of the fireplace of his bedchamber, his chin resting on his
fist, his legs outstretched and crossed in front of him. It was past midnight
and his eyes were fixed on the fire, thoughts lost in memories of moments
shared with his wife.
As much as he had
tried to overlook it, it was time to acknowledge the truth that he, until now,
had refused to accept. Elizabeth
had been forced to marry him. She had never desired to be his wife. An
unfortunate incident –for which he was the only one to blame--, had
thrown them together almost against their will. He was confronted by her father
and in what he thought was an act of generosity, he had accepted his duty,
assuming that his stature and importance would make her forget his past
misconducts. His stupid pride had blinded him to reality and Darcy proceeded
with the arrogant belief that Elizabeth
would be honoured for marrying such an important person, for marrying him.
But in reality,
Darcy had come to realize, the feelings he inspired in her were exactly the
opposite. Elizabeth
hated him. His wife despised him. The
playfulness and liveliness he had fallen in love with had disappeared under his
influence and replaced with a bitterness of spirit that was consuming his
beloved’s heart. A less pig-headed fellow would have listened to the
warnings he was given and acted in a manner that would have assured him the
earning of her affection. A wiser man would have noticed the incompatibility of
their dispositions. What could have been a union for the advantage of both
became a permanent source of mutual suffering. Instead of him nurturing from
her alacrity, he had condemned her to his dullness; and she, who should have
benefitted from his understanding of the world, was now living a life of
isolation and sorrow.
The last thing Darcy desired was to cause pain to the woman he loved so
desperately, but he was. The more he thought about it, the only way he found to
cease her suffering was to remove himself from her presence. Georgiana was home
now and she could keep her company. It was time to search for Bingley and try
to right the wrong he had done to his friend and his beloved’s sister. If
he was the cause, he would be the solution.
And if things
didn’t improve between him and his bride when he returned, he would have
to let her go.
Elizabeth couldn’t
sleep and rolled restlessly in bed, consumed by the remorse caused by the
conduct she had displayed earlier in the day. She knew she had been unfairly
vicious in her attack to her husband but she couldn’t control herself in
his presence any more. She was feeling lonely, isolated and tired of keeping
with this pretence of marriage.
As bad as it had
been, her inexcusable behaviour of today had finally made her realize something
of great importance. She could not continue with her life as it was anymore. It
was not only unfair for herself but it was also for her husband.
Until now, she had
blamed Darcy for every wrong that had happened in her life, yet, at this point,
she could not deny her own fault on this affair. She had deceived him. In those
weeks they were engaged, she had never acquainted him with her opinion about
their marriage or enunciated the faults of character that had solidified her
dislike for him. She had kept him in the dark about her true feelings and
thrown them at his face at the worst possible moment. For his obliviousness she
was the only one to blame.
There was another
fact that should be taken into consideration, one that she also believed to be
equally relevant and that was his excellent treatment of her person, a
behaviour he had consistently and uniformly displayed since their engagement.
With the exception of their wedding night, where they both lost every degree of
composure, Mr. Darcy had acted like the perfect gentleman and had been the
model of decorum. Another man would have demanded that she fulfilled her
conjugal duties or shipped her home to her father, rejected and dishonoured, at
the first disagreement. But Mr. Darcy had not. Despite his self acknowledged
tendency to resentment and intolerance, even after their quarrel and her
refusal to accept him into her bed, he had treated her with respect and made
her the mistress of his home and fortune.
These days in his
home had given her the chance to see an entirely different side of him, one
more generous and passionate, so unlike the proud and selfish man she had met
in Hertfordshire. Contrary to what she had ever expected, with her he had shown
himself as incredibly patient and tolerant, even in front of her mistreatment,
and readily shared with her everything he possessed. Perhaps Darcy was indeed
like his cousin had portrayed him, prodigiously caring of those under his
superintendence and maybe it was time to accept, once and for all, this other
much positive facet of his character and benefit from what she could learn from
him.
She was now Mrs.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, the mistress of the grand Pemberley, a role at which she had
never aspired but that had been granted to her nonetheless. However, she would
never be able to fulfil this role if she was in permanent war with its master.
It was time give him a chance and try to see him in a better light. Her future
happiness depended on it.