Her Voice of Reason Page 12

  She had decided to go to Lambton on foot to post some letters. She guessed that her wandering ways had caused much astonishment among servants, but as Darcy tolerated those habits no one dared to gossip about it, at least not openly.

  By her side ran one of Darcy’s dogs, Romeo. It was a Scottish breed, resembling more a pony than a dog, as it was so tall. Darcy had trained him so well that he followed Elizabeth everywhere and growled at anyone who dared to approach her too closely for its liking. Elizabeth enjoyed the animal well enough; nevertheless, she did not see the need to have him as her company everywhere she went. Her husband was adamant about it, though. She had to admit that if Romeo had been at her side from the very beginning, both Miles and Mr. Coleman would have lost their hands well before they had laid them on her.

  All of a sudden Romeo shot across the pasture to the road. Elizabeth cried after him a few times, hoping to bring him back to her, but to no avail.

  She ran after the dog, before long seeing two riders coming from afar. She instantly guessed that one of the two had to be Darcy. Romeo would never leave her side for someone else.

  The other rider seemed considerably older, especially in comparison to the lean figure of her husband.

  “Papa!” she cried unbelievably as the men approached her. “Papa! I cannot believe it! Is it truly you?!”

  Mr. Bennet pulled his horse to a halt, removed his top hat and smiled down at her. “Good morning, my Lizzy. I am pleased to see my favourite daughter in good health and high spirits!”

  “What are you doing on a horse?!” she demanded fiercely. “You should not be riding, Papa! Not at your age and with your bad eyesight! Was it Mr. Darcy who convinced you to do such a reckless thing?”

  “Your husband only invited me to Pemberley to see the famous library, and you, of course.”

  “Come here, Mrs. Darcy.” She heard Darcy’s voice coming from behind her. Before she could protest, a solid arm wrapped around her middle and she was lifted on top of the horse right in front of her husband. That silenced her effectively for a while. She had never been particularly fond of horses, not to mention riding them.

  She watched as her laughing father rode in an excellent mood past them.

  “You will not greet me?” Darcy asked, smiling at her.

  Elizabeth tore her eyes from Mr. Bennet’s disappearing form. As she looked into Darcy’s handsome face, she decided that his mood was much improved in comparison to the days before his departure to London. Should he not be more upset after dealing with Wickham and Lydia for the last few weeks?

  “How could you allow for Papa to ride all the way from Hertfordshire? And in such cold weather? Not only is he ill, but also over twenty years your senior.”

  “This is my thanks for bringing your beloved father back to you? Accusations and complaints?” he enquired sternly but with a twinkle in his eyes suggesting that he was not truly displeased with her behaviour.

  “I am grateful for his presence, and I appreciate that you invited him, but you must understand how worried I am about him.”

  “I could hardly persuade him when he learned that my initial intention was to return to Derbyshire on a horse. I noticed that he was as obstinate as you are, my dear. We made frequent stops. I watched over him. He is well.”

  Elizabeth relaxed slightly against the solid body behind her. Darcy was correct in his observation. Her father did look quite well, much better than the last time she had seen him over four months ago.

  Darcy urged the horse into a trot. The few miles that were left to Pemberley Elizabeth sat stiffly sideways on the saddle, praying that this ride would end soon. Darcy’s arm wrapped securely around her middle kept her safe. Nevertheless, she much preferred to be on the ground and on her feet.

  She was truly relieved when Darcy stopped the horse in front of the main entrance. Her father was naturally already there, speaking with Mrs. Reynolds and Georgiana, the butler and one of the footmen standing behind them by the open door.

  “Here they are,” Mr. Bennet spoke good humouredly as Darcy and Elizabeth joined them.

  “I can see Papa that you have already introduced yourself to Miss Darcy and Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “Indeed I have, Daughter. Such a pleasant welcome I received even though my arrival was very unexpected.”

  Mrs. Reynolds excused herself to her duties, and Elizabeth knew that soon they would have to discuss which room should be prepared for her father. Georgiana stepped to greet her brother while Mr. Bennet walked inside the house, looking curiously around the grand foyer. Elizabeth stayed behind, as she wished to say a few words to her husband in private.

  Once Georgiana stepped inside the house, she walked up to Darcy. “I am truly grateful that you brought Papa,” she said. “I apologize for being so very unpleasant when we met. You deserve better.”

  He smiled at her, fleetingly touching her cheek with his gloved hand. “I perfectly understand the source of your earlier unease, I assure you.”

  She smiled back. “Welcome home, Mr. Darcy.”

  He placed his hand on the small of her back and together they walked in.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was nearly a quarter to eleven. She was quite certain that both her father and Darcy had retired some time ago. She had spied her father walking to his room over an hour ago, and she did not believe that Darcy stayed in the library or the drawing room for much longer all alone.

  Throughout the day she was busy entertaining her father, enjoying his company, listening to his tale of everything which had happened in London. Darcy was rather tight lipped about it. Only from Mr. Bennet she learned how Darcy found Wickham and how together with Mr. Gardiner they forced him to take responsibility for his actions. Neither Darcy nor Mr. Bennet mentioned any money, but Elizabeth was certain that her husband had to pay close to a small fortune to entice Wickham into marrying Lydia. Mr. and Mrs. Wickham were to live in Newcastle, where Wickham would join the regular army. Before their journey to the north they were to spend about a week in Longbourn. Mr. Bennet refused to share his house with the newly married couple. He decided to travel to Derbyshire with his “favourite son-in-law,” as he called Darcy now.

  She felt an urgent need to see her husband in private. Since his return yesterday afternoon she had barely had a moment alone to speak with him. He had not come to her room last night, which was expected, as he must have been exhausted after the long day in a saddle. Tonight though, he should visit her bedroom. They had been separated for three weeks, after all. She knew his desires well. Darcy might have been displeased and disappointed with her in the past. Nevertheless, he rarely stayed away from her bed for more than a few days.

  The clock’s face showed eleven. Elizabeth wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and walked to the door connecting her room with the small sitting room. In the early days of their marriage they had usually enjoyed a breakfast here, spending the early mornings together. Now it was cold and uninviting. Quickly she passed it, stopping in front of the door to the master bedroom. She knocked. No response. She knocked again, then entered the room.

  The candles were put down and the only light was coming from the fireplace. Her husband was fast asleep, lying on his side, the covers drawn up over his arms.

  With a huff of exasperation Elizabeth took a seat on the edge of the bed. Why was he sleeping? She had to talk to him. She could not wait a minute longer.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. There was no reaction. She shook his arm. “Fitzwilliam!”

  He sat up. “What,” he mumbled, then dropped back onto the pillows, closing his eyes.

  “I need to talk with you.” She shook his arm again, not so gently this time.

  His eyes reopened. “What? Why? It is late. Can it not wait until tomorrow?”

  “No, it cannot,” she announced, lighting the thick candle on his bedside.

  Rubbing his eyes, Darcy sat up. “Has something happened?”

&nb
sp; “I wish to thank you from the bottom of my heart for rescuing Lydia.”

  He stared at her for the longest moment. “You woke me up in the middle of the night only to tell me this.”

  “It is not the middle of the night. It is barely eleven.”

  Darcy shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “Very well,” he said. “You told me what you wished to. Now can I return to sleep?”

  “No, you cannot. Not yet.”

  Darcy sighed loudly and laughed quietly. “I am listening, then,” he spoke, visibly resigned.

  Elizabeth remembered her previously rehearsed speech and began. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are the best of men. I have not always been convinced of that due to my own pride and prejudice against you. What you did for Lydia, however, helped me realize...”

  She did not finish because her husband pulled her on the bed, under the covers and into his arms.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she began again, but he closed her mouth with a kiss.

  Elizabeth pushed away from him to look into his face. “Fitzwilliam, it is of great importance to me to thank you, to make you understand how much I appreciate your effort.”

  “I beg you, Elizabeth,” he interrupted her again, groaning into her neck, his stubble tickling her sensitive skin. “If you wish to show your gratitude, I ask for one thing only. Do not ever return to that topic again.” He rose to blow the candle out then settled down next to his wife, her back to his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. “Let us sleep now. I am tired. After three weeks of dealing with Wickham and your unimaginably silly sister I wish for some peace and quiet, not to mention a good night’s rest and truly nothing more.”

  Elizabeth rested obediently in her husband’s arms. She smiled in the semidarkness. She enjoyed his embrace and his close presence. What she wished to say to him on coming to his room was suddenly much less important than only half an hour ago.

  ***

  November 15th

  Longbourn

  Hertfordshire

  My dearest Lizzy,

  Before I answer all your questions from your last letter concerning Papa’s health and his return from Derbyshire, I must share such wonderful news with you. Mr. Bingley asked me to marry him. We are engaged!

  Mr. Bingley returned to Netherfield. The happy event happened a fortnight ago. The door was opened again and the servants arrived. We thought that it was someone else renting the house for the winter, but soon Mr. Bingley himself arrived. I truly had no hope when he came to Longbourn with a visit. I viewed him as an old friend. My hope rose when he began coming every day. And only yesterday he asked me to walk with him. Then he told me that he still loved me. He loves me Lizzy, he never stopped! We are engaged. I cannot believe my own happiness! We shall be married in the spring in April. Mr. Bingley hopes for you and Mr. Darcy to attend the wedding.

  As for Papa, he is in good health. Every day he mentions the Pemberley library. If the choice were his only, he would gladly stay there for a much longer period of time than a few weeks.

  Forgive me the shortness and incoherency of this letter, but I am so happy that I can hardly gather my own thoughts. Moreover, Mr. Bingley is awaiting me downstairs. As the weather is pleasant, today we shall walk around the park. He wishes to discuss with me what changes I would wish to introduce at Netherfield, as he plans to prolong the lease for another year. I promise to write soon in greater detail, as I am certain that you are interested in hearing about everything.

  Your blissfully happy sister,

  Jane

  Elizabeth gasped, her eyes widening as she read the letter. Jane and Mr. Bingley were engaged. After all this time. When all hope had been lost many months ago. Jane failed to mention the reason for which Mr. Bingley had returned to Hertfordshire. Elizabeth hoped to learn more details from the next letter, as her sister had promised to write more. Nevertheless, she was quite certain that it was Darcy who was responsible for Mr. Bingley’s return and for Jane’s happiness. Where was her husband now? She had to speak to him.

  With the letter in her hand, she reached for her shawl and ran out of the room.

  She hoped that he was in the house. Earlier this morning he had mentioned some documents sent from the solicitor in London which needed his approval, thus there was a good probability that he was in the library.

  As she passed by the gallery of windows overlooking the courtyard, she saw Darcy speaking with the steward and the butler. Without a second though she turned into the narrow staircase leading directly to the courtyard, used mainly by the servants.

  “Fitzwilliam!” she cried, pushing the heavy entrance door open and running outside, her shoes clicking on the stone floor. Laughing she ran to her husband, putting her arms around his neck.

  “Jane is engaged to Mr. Bingley!” she announced the good news to him, showing him the letter.

  “That is very well indeed,” he spoke calmly. Gently he released himself from her embrace, offering her his arm instead.

  Only then she remembered that they had company. Glancing apprehensively at the men, she noticed that while Mr. Clarkson, the steward was smiling, the butler looked rather displeased with her antics.

  “We shall finish our conversation later,” Darcy told the men, before leading Elizabeth inside the house.

  “What were you thinking?” he scolded, but there was no true displeasure in his voice. “Running out like this in the cold weather and calling me by my first name in front of the servants?”

  “I wished to share the news with you,” she replied, a wide smile splitting her face, not caring in the least about his objections concerning her misbehaviour.

  Shaking his head at her, he said, “I can only imagine the gossip that would come from this among the servants. The voices coming from the courtyard carry very well throughout half of the house.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “There are worse crimes than calling one’s husband by his first name and touching him in public.”

  “Mhm,” Darcy grunted, placing his hand on the small of her back and guiding her forward. “Let us go to the library. We shall have some privacy there.”

  As they sat in the library and Darcy rang for tea, Elizabeth stood by his side, giving him the letter to read. He did it, scanning the paragraphs quickly.

  “Your father liked the library, then,” he commented.

  Elizabeth took the letter from him. “Do not tease me. You know very well that Papa adored the library. What about Bingley and Jane?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “What about them?”

  Pressing her lips in a tight line, she pushed at his shoulder with a mock punch.

  Massaging his shoulder with an overly pained expression although she knew quite well that she had not hurt him in the least, he said, “Your sister sounds very happy.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you tell to Mr. Bingley to make him return to Netherfield?”

  Darcy put on an innocent expression. “I have not talked with Bingley since before our wedding. You know that he spent the summer in Scarborough with his ailing aunt.”

  “You must have written a letter to him, then. I do not believe that you had no involvement in this.”

  “I wrote the letter to him, but only after my return from London,” he admitted. “I was supposed to do it in August after you made me realize my mistake when it came to understanding Jane’s true feeling towards Bingley. When we learned about the affair with Wickham and Lydia, I forgot about it for some time. It was your father who reminded me about it. He asked if I knew something about Bingley’s plans concerning Netherfield.”

  “What exactly did you write in the letter to Mr. Bingley?”

  “Quite simply I wrote that I was wrong thinking that Jane had no feelings for him. I assured him that Jane had loved him truly and deeply last winter. I explained that I relied on your opinion on this matter. I also wrote that I had purposely hidden from him Jane’s presence in London last winter when she attempted to see him. Lastly, I ad
vised that he should try again if he had not forgotten her, and apologized for my ill-advised interference.”

  “You did not mention a word of it to me,” she complained.

  “I was not certain of the way Bingley would act after receiving my letter. It all worked well in the end, but it could have been entirely different. I did not wish to raise your hopes. I am pleased for Bingley, and your sister as well, of course, I truly am.”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered, wrapping her arms around him, hiding her face in his neck. “You cannot imagine how much it means to me that Jane is happy.”

  Darcy patted her back, answering warmly, “You are very welcome. I simple repaired my old mistake. I truly believed that my interference at the time was justified. I thought to be protecting my friend. It was never my intention to make two people unhappy.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elizabeth sat curled in the armchair by the window using the last of daylight to read. The door to the library opened and someone walked in. Elizabeth did not need to look up to guess that it was Darcy. She knew the way he walked. Despite having his own study at his disposal, he much preferred to work in the library.

  “Good read?” he asked, passing by her. He had an armful of letters in his hands.

  “Yes, very good,” she answered, looking up at his tall form. “You should read it.”

  “I will once you finish with it.”

  From the corner of her eye she watched as he sat behind the large desk which once belonged to his father, grandfather and great-grandfather. He began methodically segregating the letters into separate piles. One of them would go to her to answer enquiries and proposals concerning the household matters. Their eyes met for a moment and he sent her a questioning gaze. Her eyes returned to the page of her book, but she could no longer read with comprehension.

  She loved her husband. This realisation had come to her recently. She woke one day, feeling the overpowering love for him. He was a good man. She knew his faults and accepted them without diminishing her feelings for him. They were part of him.