Summer at
Pemberley
a Jane Austen fan fiction
by Lucy
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All manner of
happiness
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When Darcy awoke in the morning he was more than a little
unhappy to find himself alone. After his clumsy confession of jealousy, which
now in the morning light seemed to him so foolishly, abhorrently adolescent, he
had made love to his wife with a delicious, delicate intensity. As Elizabeth
had fallen asleep in his embrace he had laid awake relishing in the splendid
union begun when she had become his wife. He was not at all inclined to start
the day--which in the afternoon was to bring another surfeit of guests to
Pemberley--without sharing with his wife a few more tender moments. Provoked by
her absence, he rose from bed, found his robe, wrapped it hastily around
himself and strode into her dressing room, only to find, instead of Elizabeth,
her maid, and quite by herself.
"Oh! Mr. Darcy!" Molly cried, with an awkward
curtsey. Even after eight months she was not at all accustomed to some of the
particulars of waiting on a lady whose husband was so very attentive. More than
once he had walked into his wife's dressing room, not yet properly dressed
himself, evidently thinking to find only his wife, and finding her with her
maid. This was, however, the first time he had found only Molly.
"And Mrs. Darcy?" he inquired, insensible to
Molly's embarrassment at his state of dress.
"She is with Mrs. Bingley, sir."
"With Mrs. Bingley? At this hour? Why it is not yet
half past seven."
"Yes, sir, she was called to Mrs. Bingley's room
earlier this morning; no more than an hour ago. Mrs. Bingley had an
indisposition, sir, but I believe nothing of consequence."
"Thank you, Molly," Darcy replied, turning and
walking away. He preferred not to reflect upon who had come to fetch his wife
from their bed, nor the state in which they would have been found. Why is not Bingley
with his wife, he wondered, and then thought the better of speculating in such
a direction. He would simply be required to await Elizabeth's explanation. With
hopes for an indulgence of tenderness to begin the day thus frustrated, he
called for his bath and set to thinking on what business required his attention
this morning before the afternoon brought their anticipated guests. He had
asked his steward, Mr. Fairfax, to arrive at the earliest possible hour.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was sitting on Jane's bed and holding
her hand in the manner they had been wont to do as unmarried sisters. Jane
looked a little wane and toyed nervously with the rings on Elizabeth's finger
as they conversed.
"They really ought not to have called you and
disturbed your slumber."
"You must have appeared very unwell or they would not
have presumed to call me, Jane."
"It is nothing Lizzy. You know how it has always been
with me."
"Yes. And I had always been there to hold your hand,
so why should I not now that I have the opportunity?" Elizabeth lifted her
hand and lightly ran her thumb under Jane's eyes. "There is something
else, is there not? You have been crying. Dearest Jane, will you not tell
me?"
Jane looked into her sister's face, her clear, open
countenance revealing to Elizabeth a kind of sheltered pain. "It is
nothing Lizzy. I only so wish to be with child."
"As do I. That will come with time. We should not
fret. I am quite sure we will prove as capable of bearing children as
Mama." Elizabeth smiled but she saw that Jane was plainly attempting to
stifle some powerful emotion. "Jane?" Elizabeth insisted.
"There is something I have not told you, Lizzy."
Jane's eyes were brimming with tears and sadness. "I was with child for
ever so brief a time."
"My dearest Jane!" Elizabeth cried as she pulled
her sister into an embrace. "Why did you not tell me? When was this?"
"Immediately prior to our staying with you in
London."
"I should scold you for not sharing this with me and
not allowing me to comfort you, but I suppose we shall always turn first to our
husbands for comfort now. So I will not be cross. And you came to town when you
should have been resting, because I had insisted that you must be with us. But
let me comfort you now," Elizabeth said sweetly. Lifting Jane's
down-turned face by the chin as you would a recalcitrant child's, Elizabeth saw
that her tears were unceasing.
"Jane, Jane. Why do you still cry so? It is not
uncommon; you will be with child again."
"It is not that Lizzy. You will think it so strange, I
hardly comprehend it myself," she said, falling silent, an expression
somewhere between sorrow and shame overtaking her pretty countenance.
"Confide in me," Elizabeth urged.
"You said we would turn to our husbands for comfort
and yet, I did not allow Charles to comfort me."
"I do not understand."
Jane's voice was small and frail. "He does not
know."
Elizabeth looked at Jane disbelievingly. "He does not
know? Did you not tell him you were with child?"
"It all occurred so rapidly; learning I was with child
and loosing it. I did not have the opportunity to tell him. The Hursts and
Caroline were at Netherfield, and then we had so many visits to make with our
kind neighbors and Mama, and, oh Lizzy, I simply could not find a moment that
seemed appropriate. And then, it was over."
"My dear Jane!" Elizabeth cried as she cradled
her sister in her arms.
"With each passing day it seemed more difficult, more
unnecessary to pain him. Charles is always so anxious for my well being, so
attentive to my needs. I did not wish to sadden him, to burden him with my own
disappointment. I did endeavor to tell him one evening, but the words would not
come."
"Charles must have seen you were unwell."
"Indeed he did, and yet his inquiries were not
difficult to deflect, Lizzy. He was so very apprehensive for my well being, so
tender in his care. I told him it
was an indisposition, nothing out of the ordinary for a woman to suffer. I
believe he was embarrassed and let it remain vague. I simply did not suppose we
need both be saddened, when all else was so well with us, when Charles was
otherwise so happy."
"Oh Jane!" Elizabeth spoke in gentle, but
reproachful tones. "Perhaps he ought to have known. Although you have
often sought to keep your own counsel you must now trust to Charles. You must
allow him the opportunity to be your comfort; he would welcome the opportunity
to care for you."
As Elizabeth spoke the clocks throughout Pemberley House chimed
the hour; the clock in Jane's room had a soft, dainty timbre. "Oh my
goodness, listen!" Jane cried deliberately. "The hour. It is eight
o'clock already. You must have much to prepare before your guests arrive this
afternoon and I have you sitting with me in your dressing gown."
"Jane! You cannot deflect me so easily. My part is
well completed and the remainder is for Mrs. Reynolds and the staff."
"But it would not due for the mistress of Pemberley to
be seen roaming the hallways in her dressing gown!"
"When we were girls, was it not you always admonishing
me to be serious? Well then, Jane, it shall be my privilege now. Do be serious,
Jane!"
With a sweet smile Jane replied with more composure.
"You may leave me with peace. I am well. Perhaps I am mistaken, but I saw
no cause to tell Charles we had lost what he did not know we had, and less
cause to inform him now these few months past. When you came to me this morning
I was thinking on how much I long to give Charles the happy news that I am with
child. I expect with you here I allowed myself to indulge in the emotion of my
disappointed hopes, that is all. But I am well, Lizzy. Indeed, very well."
"If you will not confide such disappointments in
Charles, promise me you will at least look to me, Jane."
"I promise I shall."
Resigned to Jane's wish, Elizabeth returned to her rooms,
saddened by her sister's confession. It was not the revelation of having been
with child that affected herÑsuch early losses, unhappy as they were, did
occur, yet children would undoubtedly come. Rather, Jane's hesitation to
confide in her husband struck Elizabeth as altogether more troubling.
Realizing, however, that it was indeed growing late and as she did, in truth,
have some matters to attend to with Mrs. Reynolds, she endeavored to put the
conversation with her sister aside. Arriving in her dressing room, she was told
by Molly that Mr. Darcy had been in search of her earlier; knowing he had an
early appointment with Mr. Fairfax, she surmised he had quit their chambers and
already gone down to breakfast. She hurried Molly along in her bathing and
dressing that she might join him before his appointment.
As she was about to quit the rooms herself, she suddenly
turned on her heel and walked into her bedchamber. She crossed the room,
stopping in front of a table at the side of her bed. Reaching forward she
lifted the music box Darcy had given her some weeks earlier. She smiled as she
recalled his words: I would wish that every time you open this box and hear
its music you would recall these weeks when we have had this time alone, during
which we have had the opportunity to establish the foundations of our
happiness. She
brushed her finger over the beautiful inlaid mother-of-pearl design, opened the
box and listened; she recalled, perhaps due to the nature of her discourse with
Jane, one particular walk in which Darcy had spoken of his mother's death and
portrayed for her his boyhood loss.
As she stood thus, she felt Darcy's arms wrap around her
waist. "I thought you with Mr. Fairfax," she said.
Resting his chin on her shoulder he spoke teasingly.
"I have awaited your return, just so that you might tell me why you so
cruelly abandoned me this morning."
Elizabeth inhaled deeply and felt the delightful sensation
of his scent filtering through her; he smelled of citrus and moss, lemon and
bergamot oil. Turning in his arms, she exclaimed, a little breathlessly:
"My dearest husband, promise me you shall never keep anything from me to
spare me pain! Swear to me you shall always permit me to share your suffering,
you shall always allow me to unburden you of a little of it, as best I
can."
"Elizabeth?" Darcy inquired, alarmed by the
strange pleading in her voice. "Why ever are you so overwrought? Is Jane
not well? Your maid said it was nothing of consequence. Was she mistaken?"
"She is well. Oh, but I cannot tell you what is not
mine to tell."
"You must enlighten me regarding what has you so
troubled or I shall be uneasy. Come," he said, taking her hand and leading
her to the sofa. He sat down with her, clasping her to his breast; kissing the
top of her head, he coaxed her with tender words and soft caresses.
"You must not tell Charles."
"As you wish, Elizabeth."
"I have been distressed by something Jane has confided
in me, something she has not confided in Charles."
"Is it something Bingley ought to know? You are
certain she is not unwell?"
"She is well." Elizabeth paused for a moment,
unsure of the prudence of revealing her sister's secret to Darcy and thereby
requiring that he in turn keep it from Bingley, but she could not be other than
open with him. "She confessed to me that before they came to stay with us
in London she suffered a loss."
Darcy replied compassionately. "Is it this which
distresses you? If I understand what you intimate, while it is unhappy, it is
not unusual that such should occur."
"It is not that which has me distressed."
Elizabeth stood up and began to pace in front of the sofa. "She did not,
she has not told Charles. He ought to have known; he ought to have been free to
comfort her. I simply do not understand why she would not turn to him for
comfort, and it distresses me that perhaps she thinks she cannot."
Darcy deliberated a moment before responding. Although he
felt Bingley ought to have been informed--under like circumstances he certainly
would have wished to have known-- he concluded it was hardly his place to
reveal such delicate information, and certainly not at the sacrifice of his own
wife's trust in his discretion. Grasping her hand and halting her nervous gait,
he asked her to look at him. With measured words, he replied: "I will most
emphatically implore that you should never keep a matter of such import from
me." He paused, holding her gaze steady as he said these words, searching
for her concurrence. Confident she understood, he continued. "However, I
cannot pass judgment on Jane. It is not for us to question in what manner they
will choose to confide one in the other, or to seek comfort the one from the
other." Seeing that she remained less than collected, he added, "They
are happy together, Elizabeth, as you had always wished. That is plain
enough."
"She should not have suffered this alone!"
Elizabeth reiterated. Darcy was forced to restrain a smile; Elizabeth's tone was
so very protective.
"You know her better than I and so it is better for
you to conjecture but I would offer that it is possible your sister simply
wishes to avoid bringing such unhappiness into their felicity, and chooses to
bear the burden for them both. Would that not be consistent with her
character?"
Elizabeth contemplated his words for a moment. "She
has often chosen to keep her suffering guarded from others, even from me at times.
Indeed, when we were all together at Longbourn we both did, not wishing, I
suppose, to be required to expose ourselves to Mama's indiscretion. But I had
so hoped with Charles, who loves her so dearly and whom she cherishes, she
might learn to share her burdens."
Elizabeth looked utterly distraught on her sister's behalf.
Darcy adored this in her, the steadfast devotion, the considerable sympathy for
those she loved, and he was gratified that his own sister was amongst those
Elizabeth loved and so under her faithful protection as well.
"Sit with me," he said. Once seated, he took her
hand into his own. Seeking to alleviate her empathetic discontent, he offered
her a different perspective.
"I am confident, knowing their characters, between
them there have been only words of felicity and compliance. Others had once separated them; whereas
their own words and actions have been always solicitous, I am sure. Our
courtship was not at all the easy romance that was their courtship; ours was
not the kind of sweet story that young girls find so enjoyable to read in
novels. Consequently, perhaps they have not had the opportunity to learn the
lessons that you and I so painfully learntÑthat love and understanding are not
only pretty words and sweet affections. From our experience we have learnt not
only forgiveness and forbearance, but also a kind of honesty and candor that
they perhaps have not had the opportunity or the need to learn. Perchance,
given their characters, such wisdom is not even necessary for their mutual
understanding and happiness. After all, knowing them as you do, can you imagine
that a discordant word has ever past between them?"
"No, not at all," she smiled.
"Then do not concern yourself overmuch, my dear. Just as we have found the manner in
which we choose to live our happiness, we must respect that they have as
well."
"I am very silly to feel it so, am I not?"
"Not at all. You are simply devoted to your sister and
wish her, I flatter myself, happiness as great as your own."
Elizabeth looked at Darcy and a pert little smile graced
her lips. Playing with his neatly tied cravat, she teasingly affirmed:
"You did not speak with such surety last evening."
"Perhaps not," Darcy blushed. "But I believe
you have successfully righted me of such foolish notions as those I yesterday
expressed."
Elizabeth laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I should hope so, because my happiness is great, Fitzwilliam!"
Joyfully, she kissed him. "I should not distract you," she murmured,
all the while letting her fingers tangle through his hair and placing sweet,
teasing kisses upon his face. "Had you not some business to attend to with
your steward this morning?"
"Distract me, my little minx, all you desire," he
replied, pulling her closer into his embrace. "Let me tarry with you a
while longer. Mr. Fairfax can wait."
Mr. Fairfax was indeed made to wait, but not unduly so.
When the carriages began to arrive in the afternoon Darcy had accomplished all
the required estate business and Elizabeth had attended to those housekeeping
matters in which her personal attention was essential. The couple was therefore
well prepared to greet their guests when Mr. and Mrs. Edward Ashton's carriage
was spotted entering the park.
Mr. Edward Ashton was the eldest son of a clergyman,
himself the third son of a Baron of modest means. His marriage to the former
Miss Iphigenia Watson was a perfect blending of interest and compatibility. The
former Miss Watson being the only child of a comparatively wealthy landowner
from Lincolnshire, she offered him superior means allowing for an independent
living, he offered her superior connections, and they offered each other a
sincere compatibility of temperament, if not ardent affections. They were both
of an easy temper, amiable and reasonably clever; neither was particularly
handsome or plain, both were fashionable without excess, and both, to the great
pleasure of hosts wherever they were greeted, were possessed of exceptional
musical ability. Married two years, they were universally liked and welcomed
about town. Darcy and Ashton first became acquainted at university, where they
discovered a shared admiration of Dante Alighieri's works and a common passion
for the fine sport of fencing. Darcy was not overly intimate with Mrs. Ashton,
but she and Elizabeth had got on well from their earliest acquaintance in town.
Mrs. Ashton was in possession of a certain lucid practicality that reminded
Elizabeth a little of her friend Charlotte.
Another of Darcy's university friends, Sir Patrick
MacLaighid, soon followed the Ashtons. Sir Patrick was a Member of Parliament,
an Irishman, tall, with a head of soft, strawberry blond hair and intelligent
blue eyes that marked an altogether pleasant countenance. Sir Patrick spent the
majority of his time among the political circles of town, but he and Darcy,
nevertheless, had a strong friendship based on mutual regard and respect. If
Darcy rarely sought counsel from others, Sir Patrick was one of the few to whom
he would turn, valuing as he did his clear thinking and his unbending
integrity. Sir Patrick, for his part, was certain he knew no gentleman upon
whose honor, fairness and liberality he could more readily depend. Unlike with
Bingley, this friendship was, for Darcy, one devoid of the deference which
still tinged their intimacy, and was, instead, a friendship wholly between
equals.
The John Thorneys were the last to arrive. Mr. John
Thorney, like Darcy, was the eldest son of a landowner, whose estate was worth
some seven or eight thousand pounds a year. Unlike Darcy, he was not yet his
own master, his father being of excellent constitution and daily promising to
live at the least another five and twenty years. The elder Mr. Thorney also,
unfortunately, displayed little talent for management, so that the younger Mr.
Thorney lived in constant battle with his father regarding the proper
management of his legacy and that of his infant son. Mrs. Anne Thorney, an
heiress in her own right, could not be bothered much to opine on matters
regarding Alresford Hall. An avid horsewoman and skilled archer, she had an
indolent, careless manner about her. She was, in short, wealthy, handsome and
spoilt. Darcy had never much cared for her, Elizabeth was undecided, and
Georgiana intimidated, but Darcy and Thorney had been friendly since their days
as schoolboys. The Thorneys were not to stay beyond a week before continuing on
further North.
The guests arrived without incident. Rested and dressed,
the enlarged party gathered together and enjoyed an easy and elegant evening.
Most were acquainted, to some degree or another, and those who were not quickly
found common sources of enjoyment and discourse. It was a well-matched party,
setting aside, perhaps, Lord Chiltern's perplexing presence. He was, possibly
in reaction to Darcy's prior admonition, on this first evening at least,
restrainedÑalmost all that could be expected of the Earl that he after all was.
There had been, however, general surprise on the part of the gentlemen to find
installed at Pemberley a man whose exploits and adventures were so frequently
chronicled around the clubs in town. To Darcy's satisfaction and Elizabeth's
respite, the Thorneys showed great interest in his tales and so occupied his
attentions in a corner of the drawing room for much of the evening.
While Elizabeth was attending to the Ashtons and
encouraging Georgiana, in light of their shared fondness of music, to expand
her acquaintance with them, Sir Patrick approached Darcy.
"Darcy," he said in his lazy Irish brogue.
"Walk with me out on the terrace for a moment."
The two gentlemen exited onto the terrace. It was a humid
and not altogether pleasant evening. As they spoke, they walked up and down the
length of the terrace in leisurely camaraderie. "I am all curiosity,"
Sir Patrick began. "What in the devil is Lord Chiltern doing at Pemberley?
I do not seem to recall that he was any great friend of yours."
"To be sure, he is no great friend of mine. As to what
he is doing here I can offer no particulars, other than paying an undue amount
of attention to my wife. Although this evening he appears happily distracted
with his fresh audience."
"Ah, Darcy!" Sir Patrick laughed. "The
green-eyed monster! I should have never expected it of you."
"You quite mistake the matter," Darcy insisted
with an indifference he might not have mustered on the previous evening.
"Mrs. Darcy finds him as little worthy of trust as do I."
"And yet you have invited him to Pemberley?"
"Not precisely,Ó Darcy remarked.
"Pray, explain."
"Not four nights ago he appeared in my drawing room,
at a most unusual hour, looking, if you can possibly imagine, more unkempt then
he does now and obviously seeking shelter. Considering the long association of
our families I felt I had no alternative but to offer him my roof. He made then
no indication of the length of his stay but has given me his word that he is
involved in nothing which will dishonor my house."
"And do you have confidence in his word?"
"I rather wish to more than not. Which is why I would
be obliged if you could assist me."
"You need only ask. In what manner?"
"You have connections in the Foreign Office. Could you
not discover what he has been involved in of late?"
"I shall make some inquiries, but he is come from the
Argentine and as you are well aware that is not our part of the world. If there
is any information to be had, I should imagine it shall be deficient of
details."
"Any information would be welcome. Earlier today he
indicated to Mrs. Darcy and myself that, while he had not initially intended to
stay more than a night or two, he was now requesting that we allow him to stay
for another week. With nothing to actually accuse him of we could not but
acquiesce."
"I should not be overly concerned Darcy, these
adventurers are often more legend than not, and perhaps your idiosyncratic Earl
will prove the same."
"Let us hope."
"Now may we speak of something more interesting,
Darcy?"
"What could you possibly consider more interesting than
that self proclaimed savage?" Darcy chuckled cynically.
"Miss Bingley." Darcy raised an eyebrow
inquisitively. "Tell me about this Miss Bingley. She is a handsome woman.
Much more modest than I anticipated."
"Why should you have anticipated anything at
all?"
"Come now Darcy," Sir Patrick laughed openly.
"All of London knew she had set her cap at you and executed her chase in a
most persistent, dare I say, immodest manner."
Darcy stopped walking and adjusted his coat irritably.
"If that was what the chattering sycophants were affirming, it is hardly
gentlemanly of you to bring it up now."
"Very well than, what would a gentleman say?"
"Miss Bingley is the sister of my friend, who happens
to be married to my sister-in-law, do you expect I shall say anything but that
she is charming?"
"Not in your parlor, but between ourselves I certainly
expect the truth. We have always spoken forthrightly. After all, there must
have been some reason she could not win you; her persistence predates your
acquaintance with your lovely wife by some time."
"Do you wish to court her?"
"It could be a possibility. You are well acquainted
with my ambitions, Darcy, and I cannot go much longer without a wife and
hostess if I am to achieve them. Miss Bingley seems promising upon first sight.
She has a certain air of shrewdness about her, which is always an advantage
when one is in my line. I suppose a man could do worse."
"Certainly."
"Well then?"
Darcy sighed impatiently. "A gentleman should keep his
own counsel on such matters. You know how I abhor this sort of thing."
"Yes I do. I would argue, however, that you ought not
take such umbrage as you were wont to do. After all, you are no longer being
chased like the fox by the hounds."
"No, I am not. But my sister very soon will be and I should
not like to imagine other gentlemen discussing her in the manner you wish me to
discuss Miss Bingley."
"There is hardly anything improper in this Darcy.
Oblige me. I have always respected your opinion. What about her was so
distasteful to you?"
Grudgingly, Darcy responded. "Distasteful is too
strong a word."
"I should imagine so, she is handsome and fashionable
after all."
"She is. She is also clever enough, although she can
be indiscriminate in the execution of her wit. She is well educated, accomplished
and has a fortune of some twenty thousand pounds."
"You are not telling me anything of consequence."
Darcy took a deep breath and threw his head back in
agitation, not wishing to speak ill of his friend's sister. "By all
appearances she would be, in all manners, a good match for many gentlemen of
our set; she fulfils many of the standard requirements, I suppose."
"Come Darcy, you are playing coy with me. I want an
honest answer. As a friend I am asking that 'Mr. Darcy of Pemberley' not answer
me; I am asking for an answer from the man who did not hesitate to act in a
manner which would ensure his own happiness." Darcy nearly grunted at the
inadvertent irony of his friend's supposition.
Sir Patrick turned to his friend and placed his hand on Darcy's
shoulder for a moment. "Come, man, be a sport."
"Very well, but only in the strictest
confidence," Darcy replied. "Let us walk," he added, preferring
that such a conversation be held farther from the drawing room doors. "She
has the ability to be quite amusing, certainly, and yet, she is artful. I do
not know what you wish for in a wife, but I, even before making the
acquaintance of Mrs. Darcy, never considered Miss Bingley. Her character is
ambiguous. I do not mean to imply that she is willfully duplicitous or
ill-intentioned, but that, beyond her ambitions, I am not certain of her
intentions, of the quality of her temperament or the depth of her mind."
"A harsh assessment to be sure, unless one is equally
guided by ambition. And her family?"
"You are acquainted with Bingley, of course."
"Yes, and might I say that before he wed he was a far
more engaging chap, now he spends all his time hovering about his pretty little
wife like a bee to his honeycomb. Thank goodness you and your wife are not so profuse
in your regard, it would have done me no good to see you, of all men, fallen a
caricature of manliness for the love of a woman. If a man will yield to love it
should have quite the opposite effect; a worthy woman should elevate a man's
character. But I digress. Tell me,
do his parents still live, does he have other sisters or brothers?"
"His parents do not live and he has one other sister.
The elder sister is married to a Mr. HurstÑa man of more fashion than sense. I would
happily do without him. Drinks too much. Gambles, but not overmuch."
"Their politics?"
"Certainly not as liberal as yours," Darcy
laughed.
"That tells me nothing, no member of the English
landed gentry or any aspirants to it are ever as liberal as I. We Irish are
secret revolutionaries you know, we want to throw off the royal yoke as surely
as the old colonies did."
"You are a hypocrite! Your mother was the daughter of
an English Baron. And you, Sir Patrick, inherited your title and your property from
her childless brother."
"All very true, but my father, God rest his soul, was
a solid Irish papist. Sons always belong to their fathers."
"Many mothers might beg to differ."
"Very noble gesture on your part Darcy, in defense of
motherhood and all, but I am quite certain that when your first son is born he
shall be no more and no less than a Darcy, and I challenge you to argue the
point." Darcy only smiled.
The subject of Miss Bingley was thus ended for the time,
and they continued to converse on other, less domestic topics with the ease and
the amiability of trusted equals until Georgiana appeared on the terrace.
"We are to have some music," she offered.
"We can hear it from here, my dear," Darcy
replied.
Blushing, Georgiana insisted. "Brother, would you not
come inside?"
"Is something the matter, Georgiana?"
"Not at all," she replied timidly. "Lizzy
has encouraged me to play this evening and I would so wish for you to be in the
room when I do."
"Of course, my dear girl," he smiled, amazed and
pleased she had agreed to play with so many guests present. "Shall we
return indoors then?"
As the three entered the drawing room from the terrace, all
within were rising to move to the music room. Elizabeth turned toward the
terrace and upon setting her eyes on Darcy she unexpectedly experienced a rush
of adoration. She smiledÑa sort of smile she bestowed only rarely and that
illuminated, not just her eyes or her visage, but her entire person,
surrounding her with a kind of exquisite gauziness. She appeared especially
lovely this evening, in a plum toned silk dress that set off the creaminess of
her complexion and the lightness of her figure; a simple, delicate amethyst
pendant dangled around her neck, and a gossamer cream shawl was suspended
delicately from her elbows. She was a picture of unaffected beauty.
"Darcy," Sir Patrick observed quietly,
"Would you be very offended if I remarked on what a splendid wife you have
acquired?"
"I have not acquired her," he replied
scrupulously, before adding in a subdued, almost intimate tone: "But yes,
she is splendid."
Sir Patrick looked at his friend, who was of course looking
at his wife, and saw a softness of mien not at all typical, and could not help
reflecting, as he often had since making the acquaintance of Mrs. Darcy, how
very surprising it remained to see his famously reserved friend so affected.
While Darcy never simpered and fawned with indelicate and embarrassing
attentions upon his wife, he could not restrain the expression of ardent
affection that suffused his eyes whenever he looked at her.
"You need not mind me, you besotted fool, I can find
my own way to the music room. I'll just follow the sound."
"Such a clever fellow!" Darcy replied derisively.
"Indisputably," he laughed. "Miss
Darcy," he said turning to Georgina, "Perhaps you might show me to
the music room? I hardly recall where it is and your brother appears a touch
distracted."
She giggled diffidently. "This way, Sir."
Darcy, paying no heed to either, approached Elizabeth and
smiled. "Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?" he inquired, offering her his arm.
Silently she took it and as they walked into the music room for what promised
to be a most satisfying series of performances, each felt a quiet, profound
contentment born simply from the reality of their united lives.
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Austen Interlude Author Directory