Mr. Darcy's Proposal (33 page)

“Oh, no, I am the one who is most fortunate, Elizabeth. You are everything I had hoped for.”

“You go in now. I think I will linger out here a little longer. The afternoon is so beautiful.”

With that Elizabeth kissed Georgiana on the cheek. Making her way back into the garden, she found a warm spot on one of the stone benches. As she enjoyed the sun, she contemplated the events in her life that had brought her from Longbourn to become Mistress of Pemberley.

Most of all, she thought about her feelings for Darcy. She respected him for his kindness to her and his support, but there was so much she did not understand. How could he be so generous and protective one minute and so distant the next? He was the most complicated person she had ever known. Nevertheless, she could not deny that she was beginning to trust and rely on him—but that was not love. Or was it how love begins?

Forty Four

The next morning, Elizabeth slept later than usual. As Margaret helped her dress, she thought back to her conversation with Georgiana. How
did
she feel about Darcy? The only thing she knew for certain was that she no longer
disliked
him. The physical effect of his touch was powerful and still very puzzling.

On her way down to the dining room, she heard voices coming from one of the rooms down the hall. Curious, she headed in that direction. The door to one of the guest rooms was ajar, and two of the maids were working there. Although she did not know the girls well, she thought it might be Annie and Betsy.

“That Margaret sure is the lucky one!” Annie said in her high, thin voice.

“Yeah, she went from upstairs maid to lady’s maid to the mistress pretty quick, especially considering her family’s history here at Pemberley,” said the older woman.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it was quite a while ago back when old Mr. Darcy was still alive—about nine or ten years now that I think about it. Her sister Daisy worked here for a short time. She was a right nice girl and very pretty—turned everyone’s eye. The Master and that George Wickham who was always hanging ‘round here then, well, I used to see them both watching her. You know how young men are.”

“Oh, yes, they can be trouble,” Annie giggled.

“The next thing you know, Daisy was packed off to Matlock and married to one of their gardeners, real quick like.”

“A baby?”

“Everyone knew it weren’t her husband’s—born too soon, you know.”

“Who was the father?” asked Annie. “Oh, no—you don’t think it was the Master, do you?”

Betsy replied, “No one really knows but there was plenty of talk. I shouldn’t tell but…well, I heard the Darcy family paid fifty pounds for that man to marry her with no questions asked. Why else would they do that if it weren’t the young Master’s doin’?”

Elizabeth did not want to hear any more. If this were true, no wonder her husband did not want Margaret as her maid. He probably did not want her in the house at all. Her presence would be a constant reminder. Elizabeth had heard that sometimes wealthy young men took advantage of the servant girls, but she never would have believed Darcy capable of that.

For now, resolving to act as normally as possible, she walked to the breakfast room to join her husband. Taking a deep breath, she arranged her face into what she hoped was a pleasant look before she entered. “Good morning, sir.”

Darcy looked up from a letter he was reading and smiled. “Good morning, my dear.”

Elizabeth noticed a letter from her sister Jane in the correspondence. Setting it aside to read later, she went to the sideboard for something to eat even though she was not hungry. After poking around in the serving dishes, she decided on some tea and toast to help her stomach settle. Just then Georgiana joined them, and Elizabeth was glad to be relieved of the pressure of having to carry on a conversation with Darcy alone. She was still very distracted by what she had just overheard.

As Darcy was leaving to retire to his study for a few hours of paperwork, he inquired if she would like to go riding that afternoon. Elizabeth invented an excuse not to go. Although Darcy looked disappointed, he left without a comment. After an appropriate length of time so as not to appear in a hurry, Elizabeth excused herself and went off to her sitting room to be alone.

She was so obsessed with finding out what had happened to Daisy that she could think of nothing else. The question was how to do it. After some consideration, she decided against asking Margaret directly. Over the next few days, she found it too difficult to be around Darcy, so she kept her distance. Several times, she found him watching her with a puzzled look on his face. She sensed he knew something was amiss, and her fears were confirmed a few evenings later.

***

Darcy did not understand the sudden change in Elizabeth’s behavior. She seemed to be taking great pains to avoid him. Only a short time ago, while riding they had engaged in a rather intimate talk about family. He had been under the impression it had brought them closer together, but now she had pulled back from him again.

“Elizabeth, are you feeling well?”

“Yes, quite well, thank you,” she said without looking up from her sewing.

“You have been quiet the past few days, and I thought perhaps you might have caught a chill from being out in the rain?”

“Thank you for your concern, sir, but I am well.”

It troubled him that she had started calling him ‘sir’ again. Darcy was not sure how to discover what was wrong, but it was clear to him something was on her mind. Reviewing the last few days, he tried to remember what he might have said or done, but he could think of nothing. Attributing it to a return of her feelings of grief over her father, he decided to let it go at least for a while.

That evening when Elizabeth announced she was retiring, he tried to kiss her goodnight, but she turned her head. He let her go with no comment. Darcy tried to continue reading but found he was going over and over the same page and still had no idea what it said. When he went to bed, sleep eluded him. After thrashing around for nearly an hour, he rose and began pacing the floor.

Since they had been married, he had thought she was becoming more and more comfortable with him. He knew she did not love him yet, but when he put his arms around her, she seemed to enjoy being held. When he kissed her, she kissed him back, but now something was different. Elizabeth was such a mystery to him. In fact, he had always had great difficulty in understanding most women, but the two who lived in his house—Elizabeth and Georgiana—were the most difficult of all.

***

Elizabeth found it difficult to concentrate on anything—her sewing, reading, music, and most especially, talking with Georgiana or Darcy. Thoughts came randomly making no sense and having no connection to the one just before. The logic she liked to think she applied to most situations did not help.

She became obsessed with what had happened to Daisy, and the entire matter weighed heavily on her mind. Could Darcy have had a relationship of some kind with one of Pemberley’s maids years ago? Could he actually be the father of a child now living on his uncle’s estate? Did he still see Daisy or the child? At this point, she would no longer be a girl, but a wife and mother well into her twenties. Elizabeth’s mind went over and over each tormenting detail until she began to make herself sick.

At times, she was convinced it was all a mistake, that he would never do something so dishonorable as to take advantage of a young girl in service in his father’s house, but then he had been young at the time, too—not more than eighteen or nineteen. She knew that such things often happened. In spite of everything, Elizabeth refused to believe that he would ever have forced himself on any woman no matter her station in life. Was it love or just a youthful indiscretion?

Elizabeth attempted to understand her own feelings. What bothered her the most? Was it that he might have committed such a transgression or that he could still have feelings for either Daisy or the child? If any of this were true, then he had not been completely honest with her. She had asked him directly why he did not want Margaret working for her, and he had not mentioned anything about the girl’s sister.

Elizabeth had heard it whispered that gentlemen of his class often had a past. Unlike women, their reputation was often enhanced rather that hurt by their conquests. It was whispered that in the upper strata of society many wealthy men had liaisons with other women, kept mistresses, and had illegitimate children, but all of those seemed out of character for Darcy.

Many times she forced herself to put it all out of her mind, but as hard as she tried, her thoughts kept turning in on themselves until she felt hopeless. Then she began to ask herself why did it matter so much to her? After all, she did not love him. Why should she care what he had done in the past or even what he did now?

Finally, she had to admit to herself that it hurt because she had just been learning to trust him. If he was not honest about this, then what else might he be hiding from her? During her father’s illness and after, he had been attentive to her every need—always there for her, listening quietly when she was grieving, and showing kindness when she needed a friend.

On the other hand, since their marriage, his behavior had been somewhat erratic. Although he had often been attentive, he had also overruled her orders to the servants, restricted her walks and tried in many ways to control her. Even though she knew it was his right as her husband, she had been hoping he would treat her as more of an equal. All in all, he was the most frustrating man she had ever known.

After living with him closely for several months, she had learned more about him. For one thing, she recognized that his reserved manner was often more from shyness than arrogance. Lately he seemed to be changing. It delighted her to see him laugh more often and occasionally tease her back. She liked to think that knowing her had softened his heart not only to her but to others as well.

Perhaps the worst part of believing that he might have committed this indiscretion was that it threatened to change the way she had begun to think about him. Over the months they had been married, she had come to respect and care for him in many ways. She had not thought of these feelings as love, but there had begun to be at least the possibility of affection. Now that was in danger of disappearing. Clinging to the small hope that this could all be a mistake, she resolved that somehow she would learn the truth.

***

A few days later when Elizabeth met with Mrs. Reynolds to go over the menus, the housekeeper handed her a letter from Jane.

“I am so sorry, Mrs. Darcy. This should have been returned to you sooner. I am afraid a grave error in procedure occurred.”

Elizabeth looked at the handwriting. Clearly it was from Jane. “Oh, yes, I think I left this on the table in the dining room a few days ago.”

“One of the scullery maids discovered it on a shelf in the kitchen. It must have been cleared away with the dishes and then somehow set aside. The footman in charge should have seen that it was delivered to you when they cleared. I have spoken to the young man, and Cook has dealt with the scullery girl who was so careless. I am very sorry this happened,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “Both Cook and I apologize for this lapse in procedure.”

Elizabeth remembered setting it on the table on the morning she had been distracted by learning about Daisy. “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. It was careless of me to leave it there. Do not be too hard on them for what seems an honest mistake.”

“Still, I do not like to have such things happen in my household,” said Mrs. Reynolds.

“I am just happy to have the letter back. I have had so much on my mind that I had actually forgotten about it.” Although Elizabeth was eager to read her sister’s letter, she finished her work with Mrs. Reynolds before retreating to her sitting room to enjoy it.

Dearest Lizzy:

A few days ago Lydia received a letter from Colonel Forster’s wife inviting her to Brighton as her companion. Apparently, Mrs. Forster said she misses Lydia’s company and just cannot do without her. Of course, Mama immediately told Lydia that she could go. I did not know about it until it was too late. Although I begged Mama to keep Lydia at home, she said she just did not know how she could disappoint her poor daughter.

Lydia has been behaving abominably. Frankly, she is bored. She wants to go out and visit, go to parties and such. She cares nothing for propriety and thinks that mourning is “a silly old rule made up by stuffy old people” to quote her.

This has all happened so quickly. Lydia leaves at the end of the week. I do not even know if there will be time for you to write and tell Mama that she must keep Lydia at home. I can see only bad things happening if she is allowed to go.

Since Mama is bent on willfully ignoring all of my advice, I must apply to you for help. Please write as soon as possible.

Your loving sister,

Jane