What's Past is Prologue
The girl in the mirror had been done no favours. Ten hours journey in a carriage left her weary. For fifty dreadful miles, mud and ruts exerted their every power of persuasion over an equipage otherwise assumed to be one of speed and luxury. Though her nausea had passed, the fatigue remained. Alone at her toilette, she could not ignore the temptation of her hair, left limp and flat by a snug travelling cap. Bellamy had deserted her, off to answer a knock at the apartment door. Without distractions, her abigail might have been able to salvage such dismal hair, but as it was, it was looking rather sad, only half-pinned.
Now was not the time for petty chatter! Observations about the house or the furniture or the reception could wait. A carriage full of flagging travellers had not induced Lady Catherine de Bourgh to postpone dinner. The time Bellamy had been allotted to transform her mistress into a properly fresh-faced, fashionably outfitted young bride was calculated in its insufficiency.
Lady Catherine wished for Mrs. Darcy to come to her table ill-prepared.
Elizabeth aimed to disappoint her.
The dressing room door eased open without a creak. "Mr. Darcy, ma'am."
Elizabeth watched the reflection of a finely dressed man cross from the edge of the mirror into its centre. His coat and trousers were crisply ironed, their deep black off-set by the white of his waistcoat and shirt. One hour to rest and dress had seemed nothing to Elizabeth, but Darcy was prepared.
He surveyed the dressing room. "How do you find your apartment?"
"Lovely."
The reflection grew larger as Darcy approached, coming to stand directly behind her chair. "It is not to your liking."
Why would he not allow her to be indistinctly polite? "Her ladyship and I have different views on how to best fit up a room." Though never in the habit of censoring her opinions, Elizabeth was above insulting the taste of her hostess in that lady's own home.
"I expect you to have a greater appreciation for restraint." He touched her. Not gently but not roughly, he laid his hands on her shoulders. Beneath her dressing gown she wore her chemise, short stays and petticoat. Mr. Darcy could not be satisfied by touching her through layers of fabric. His fingers sought bare skin. Her neck, shrouded by rogue locks of hair that had evaded Bellamy's pins, attracted his maddening fingers. In unison, his index fingers stroked up and down, from collar bone to jaw, with scarcely more than the ghost of a touch.
She shivered. With some effort, she protested, "I am not opposed to finery. Perhaps Lady Catherine and I disagree on what makes a piece worthy of display."
Darcy did not appear sensible to the gooseflesh raised by his ministrations. His idle hands wandered into her hair. His hands might play with her when he cared not to occupy them elsewhere, but his mind—his mind was always occupied. After some time, he proclaimed, "The furnishings at Rosings are ostentatious."
Although she would not have worded it quite so strongly, Elizabeth did not disagree. "And what am I," she asked, twisting her neck to look at him instead of his reflection, "to think of your rooms?"
His reply came quick. "That they are ornate, uselessly fine and bordering on vulgar. Each piece has no office but to remind its viewer of its owner's importance." A long-held opinion, she gathered, from a man unwilling to censure himself.
Elizabeth tapped her finger against her lips. "I admit when I last walked the halls of this house, I often thought its owner must be impoverished. Then a table would catch my eye and remind me otherwise."
Mr. Darcy's presence in the room fostered a scene her maid would not be brave enough to re-enter. Elizabeth turned back to the mirror and, leaning forward, coaxed Darcy into releasing her hair. Three pins had already been placed, but whatever complex thing of beauty Bellamy had been attempting to forge, Elizabeth had no hope of completing. Neither her vantage point nor her skill at hairdressing would allow it. Still, something simple and presentable was not beyond her. She pulled out the pins and let her hair fall. Mr. Darcy inhaled, though all she had been perfumed with was dust from the road.
Darcy stepped back. He observed Elizabeth plaiting and pinning her hair in silence for a time, then asked, "Have you had your sister's impression?"
"Kitty is well pleased, I am sure." She met his eyes in the mirror and raised her brow. "You must have noticed restraint is no virtue in her eyes."
"You have not spoken to her?"
"I thought it best to let her rest. I have no doubt Lady Catherine will make many demands on her tonight. She shall have to account for every absent accomplishment, and she is without any of Miss de Bourgh's exemptions."
"I have been led to understand Kitty has a weak constitution."
"Weaker than some young ladies," Elizabeth allowed, "but she is strong enough to play or draw or paint if she desired. A London master would not have thought a cough adequate excuse to forego lessons. She did not learn because she had no wish to. Making excuses shall not help her."
Once her hair had been tamed, Elizabeth considered her scents. Two bottles had been placed on the dressing table by Bellamy. "Would you prefer I wear apricot or jasmine?"
"Jasmine."
While she applied her scent, Elizabeth resumed their prior conversation. "A lady's education is nothing like a man's. A lady is taught to host and please with her playing and her painting. Having nothing to entice but animal spirits will not do when she meets a really good man." Finished at her table, Elizabeth rose.
Placing his hands on her hips, Darcy coaxed her into turning towards him. "Lizzy, the purpose of marriage is not to listen to your lover sing sweetly. This 'really good man' you desire for Kitty shall not abandon her because she does not play."
"Marriage," she agreed, "wants more than lovers that sing, 'tis true, but courtship likes it very much."
"Other activities serve well enough for courtship. I have been used to consider dancing as a certain step to falling in love."
"Some women are so unlucky as to have lovers that do not care to dance! In such a case, I hardly know what a woman can do to entice him but sing sweetly." With a delicate shrug, Elizabeth added, "Something must be done to draw his attention to her mouth, you see."
His answering kiss was more passionate than sweet. When he drew away, and his fingers still lingered on her cheeks, Elizabeth cried, "Heavens, she should not do that!" Darcy's response was another kiss, more demanding than the last. "I suppose he can, if he must."
The temptation of her lips proved too great for him to overcome. Her words were lost. Insatiable hands opened her dressing gown. Elizabeth knew her stays would hinder any satisfying exploration on his part. Although her posture appreciated the support they offered, the garment's true purpose was to lift her bosom for the gratification of male eyes. Male hands, seeking to tease and fondle, must like stays less.
It was very fortunate that the places on her body that he favoured liked the attention so well. His passion was easy to tolerate, easier to enflame. She was an object of his constant fascination. To rouse his interest required almost no encouragement. Wicked girl that she was, she could hardly resist provoking him.
Still, there was a time and a place for such things. She cupped his chin and pulled away. "Mr. Darcy, I cannot imagine what excuse you will think it proper to make if we are late for dinner!"
Reason clawed its way through his ardour. "You are not dressed." His own pronouncement seemed to shock him. Elizabeth's dressing gown had been pushed off her shoulders. Only her elbows, bent just enough to gather the sleeves, prevented it from slipping off entirely and falling to the floor.
"You frightened Bellamy. She has gone away."
It should flatter her, the confounded way Darcy turned toward the dressing room door, searching for the missing maid.
This could not last.
In the weeks leading to their marriage, Elizabeth had lived with the comfortable assurance that Darcy loved her with a heart that was steady and sensible, with affection inspired by reason and knowledge of her character. Despite many months of separation and no inducement to believe he should expect anything of her, his love had endured. To be constant under such circumstances reflected well on him. Elizabeth had been confident that their future happiness was secured.
After the ceremony, when restraint had been traded for privacy, when not only their breath was shared but their flesh, she found something entirely unexpected. His hunger for intimacy was impossible to satisfy. But even then, it was not his enthusiasm or his need that frightened her.
It was his quiet assurances in the dead of night. It was his promise that it would not always be like this.
There would come a time when he would no longer wish to always be touching her, always be feasting upon her, always so distracted by her very presence that any other concern was forgotten. The force of passion that propelled him into this unfavourable alliance would someday be slaked.
Someday, fade away.
What would become of her then? She had allowed herself to enjoy being the object of his fascination, but she dreaded being an object of his regret and repentance.
Elizabeth raised her dressing gown, wrapping it around herself. "You shall have to help me dress."
He frowned. "I have no talent for being a lady's maid."
"Perhaps not, but it is a rightful penance for what you have done. Bellamy has completed the difficult parts. A man with your education should be able to work out the rest."
"I would not dare ask you to play the role of my valet."
"Yes, well," Elizabeth replied dismissively, "as a matter of course, let us hope I am more bold than you." She glided to the privacy screen in the corner of the room. She did not care to know the misery of a neglected wife any sooner than necessary. Rather than step behind the screen, she rolled her shoulders back and let her dressing gown fall. She could see Darcy from the corner of her eye, watching with rapt attention. "Though I am coming to understand you are perhaps more bold than I would credit you for."
"You would prefer I avert my eyes?"
"You would not make for much of a lady's maid if you did."
"Then you can have no cause for complaint."
"No, indeed. Come, get my gown. Bellamy pressed it." Darcy retrieved her evening gown from where Bellamy had hung it. "Hold it—no, the other way—yes, like that." She stepped into the gown, tugged and adjusted the bodice until it was placed just so, then turned to present Darcy with her back. "You must do up the buttons."
He was more interested in her hips than her buttons. Fashionable gowns hid a lady's waist, made a charming mystery of one's hips and behind. Elizabeth chided him. There was not time for this.
He gave no response, but Elizabeth pictured him shrugging. Further scolding was thankfully unnecessary. He began with the buttons near her waist and worked upwards. The labour was not so intensive as to prevent conversation. Darcy said, "Lady Catherine has put me in my usual rooms."
"Is that not to be expected?"
"I had not anticipated otherwise. However, I am not pleased with where she has elected to put you."
"These rooms are so fine." Darcy's mission completed, Elizabeth returned to the mirror to make any needed adjustments. "If this is how she fits up a room for lowly persons, your apartment must be garish."
In the mirror, she could see his eyes follow her. "It is not the decorations that displease me."
Her reflection frowned at her. "I thought you found them bordering on vulgar."
"She has put us in different wings of the house!"
"You cannot have expected otherwise. Lady Catherine's disapproval is implacable. I have been given a room that suits a daughter of my father, I am sure, rather than a wife of my husband."
"You should not have to bear such disrespect for your station."
"Should another person choose to behave foolishly," Elizabeth said, striding towards Darcy, "I cannot see how it disrespects me. It is herself she is embarrassing. An unsuitable room does not make me less your wife. We are not torn asunder because my bed is silkwood, not mahogany. The drapery is damask, thought I would wager yours in Chintz, and yet your ring remains on my finger."
"I fear she expects my ring might yet be removed."
The urge to roll her eyes was powerful. A se'nnight of marriage had been more than long enough to render any hope of annulment ludicrous. If Lady Catherine's widowhood had been of such duration as to make her forget the proclivities of healthy young bridegrooms, she was more foolish than Elizabeth could have guessed.
"And so it will be, when it wants for polishing."
He smiled. "Thank you."
After their united efforts had accomplished a respectable semblance of what one abigail might have made of her, Darcy escorted Elizabeth into the passageway. Kitty emerged from her room, and calling for them to wait for her, gathered her skirts and skited towards them.
"Have you ever seen a house so grand?" Kitty's eyes, bright with excitement and earnestness, begged them to say that they had not despite both of them having been to Rosings before. "I am sure there is no one happier than Lady Catherine! Imagine living in such a place!"
"You must imagine living at Pemberley," Elizabeth said, "lest you make yourself unhappy by dreaming only of Rosings Park."
"Oh! I have been! But you know I cannot picture it so well. Fitzwilliam, will Pemberley be much like Rosings? Will everything be so beautiful?"
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to stifle her laugh. No man, she was sure, would describe his own home as ornate, uselessly fine and bordering on vulgar.
He said, "I hope not."
Kitty screwed her face up.
"Mr. Darcy is so droll!" Elizabeth assured her sister, "We shall get used to it."
In the drawing room, the rest of the party had already been assembled. Though Kitty would not have been able to find her way on her own, the fourth guest at Rosings Park could. Georgiana Darcy had been to dinner at Rosings many times. Her comfort in such familiar surroundings was equal to that of Miss de Bourgh herself!
The cousins stood alone, neither speaking to nor even acknowledging anyone. Finding the floor of more interest than other people appeared to be a family trait. Or perhaps it was Lady Catherine's pique that cowed them both. The lady of the house had been kept waiting. The table was to have an unequal number of gentlemen and ladies, and worse, an odd number of people. It was only when her grievances had been aired that she announced, "Darcy, you shall sit at the foot of the table. You must carve the meat. I shall not have meat carved by a manservant when there is a gentleman in the house."
He accepted the role of host for this evening with a bow. "It will be my pleasure, Lady Catherine."
Connoisseur of his pleasure that she was, Elizabeth detected only resignation.
Further instructions followed. "The ladies must go in first. Anne, you shall show us to the dining room. Georgiana, you may follow her."
Miss de Bourgh was startled to life by her mother's decree. She ambled towards the dining room, her companion at her side, skittishly attempting to support her arm. Georgiana did not move.
"Georgiana!" Lady Catherine bellowed, "I expect you to do as you are told!"
Though Darcy had not made any attempt to challenge Lady Catherine's previous grievances, presumably finding the better course to simply let her run through them all without complaint, he was not of a mind to let that pass and stepped towards his aunt.
"Georgiana, dear," Elizabeth said, holding tight to Darcy's arm, "Go on."
"You two girls," Lady Catherine snapped, waving a hand at Elizabeth and Kitty, "you will go."
When she was certain he would not advance in anger, Elizabeth dropped Darcy's arm to link her elbow with Kitty. Her own sister required few inducements to follow Lady Catherine's instructions.
"You know you should have gone already!" Kitty hissed. "Poor Georgiana, I think she was terrified to go before you!"
Just as softly, Elizabeth said, "Lady Catherine has decided opinions. She is our elder and she has invited us into her home. Making demands about precedence shall not do anyone any good."
"I think she is fearless," Kitty pronounced. "She doesn't care one jot if she makes Fitzwilliam angry. I should be terrified in her place!"
Elizabeth exhaled. "Oh, I think she does. She simply has not yet realised that her opinions are not necessarily his."
In the dining room, the sisters found that the ladies who had preceded them were clustered towards the foot of the table. The chair to the right of the host should belong to a guest, yet it had already been claimed by Miss de Bourgh. Mrs. Jenkinson stood on her other side. Across the table, at the left of the host, Georgiana occupied the second most desirous place for a lady. She shifted her weight, eyes trained on the chair. Someone must have told her she had no choice but to sit there. Elizabeth took the chair to Georgiana's left and Kitty took the next, placing her at the unenviable position of Lady Catherine's sole dinner companion.
The final two members of the party joined the table. They had done no more than sit and Elizabeth was already certain Darcy felt so slighted by the order of the promenade that he was determined to make the meal unbearable.
When the soup was served, Darcy did exactly as Elizabeth expected of him: He stirred his portion, but refused to eat it. With every repetition from Lady Catherine that it was the finest soup in this part of the country, he grew less interested. He made, at his aunt's insistence, one inquiry into the state of his cousin's health and turned away from her when she answered.
Positioned between her brother and his wife, Georgiana seemed to absorb all the animosity of the former. Her silence had a different quality than Darcy's. She fidgeted, but did not scowl. She did not attend to Elizabeth's conversation, but would apologise with embarrassment and apparent sincerity when she failed to answer a question. With her brother giving offence wherever he could, Georgiana appeared miserably aware of her own potential to do so.
Jane's account of Georgiana was a girl who was sweet, shy and everything lovely. True, Jane had met her months ago, but time could not change a person's fundamental nature.
Perhaps things would be different when they were all gone to Derbyshire.
When the soup was cleared and the rest of the first course set, Darcy was called upon to carve the meat. He served Elizabeth first, followed by their sisters and ending with the ladies of Rosings Park. There was a glint in his eye and lightness in his shoulders that told Elizabeth how pleased he was to have reminded his aunt that a married woman took precedence over single ladies and guests should have their turn before the family of the house.
The full first course was opulent. Meats, garden stuff, stewed fruits and jellies covered the table. Darcy's small rebellion had restored his appetite. As everyone else set about filling their plates, he did so as well. He had told Elizabeth once that he hardly ever forgave. The small concession of his eating dinner made something tight in her belly unwind.
Relief was short lived. Lady Catherine had decided to engage Kitty. "Miss Bennet, I understand you are to make your home with my nephew."
Occupied by her asparagus, Kitty's reply did not come promptly. "For half the year only," she said after three mouthfuls. "I will live with my sister Mrs. Bingley come autumn."
"A young lady being traded by her sisters, preposterous! Have your parents relinquished guardianship of you?"
Feeling Georgiana would not miss her incessant questions, Elizabeth answered before Kitty could swallow another bite of asparagus. "You must excuse my mother. After raising a house of five daughters, you cannot expect her to wish us all away in so rapid succession. She lost Mrs. Wickham, then Mrs. Bingley, then myself. She has surrendered one daughter to the care of sisters, but she should not surrender both of the remaining girls! Mothers are prodigiously attached to daughters. Kitty is kind enough to divide her time between the Bingleys' home and ours, which lets my sister Mary stay at home with my mother."
Kitty scoffed. "It is not a kindness on my part! I will have much more fun than Mary! She will realise her mistake and want to trade someday, but I shall not let her."
Kitty's further remarks were ignored by her ladyship, whose glare bore down on Elizabeth. She knew Lady Catherine had some nefarious reason of her own to invite them to Rosings Park, but Elizabeth would not be deterred from her own purpose. Darcy's family was now her own and she wished to foster good relationships with them. Defiance, insolence, impertinence...she had to resist the urge for any of that. Still, she would not tolerate anyone speaking to Kitty as Lady Catherine had. Kitty was eager to agree, easily impressed and inclined to follow any train of thought supplied by another person. Lady Catherine could talk Kitty into making herself appear foolish with very little effort. Elizabeth would not guess how much of Kitty's character Lady Catherine had been able to sketch in so short an interview, but her intrusion was clearly resented.
"You," Lady Catherine said, all of her attention on Elizabeth, "had a very short engagement."
"If an engagement must be three weeks and we waited four, I can see no occasion for calling it very short."
"There are many in Town who will find such haste indecent."
"And a great many more who will find my waiting one additional week shockingly indifferent, given all the inducement to be Mrs. Darcy."
"Do not think I am unaware of your inducements or how you have drawn him in, made him forget all that he was owed, all he owed his family."
"Our presence at your table must imply Mr. Darcy remembers all he owes his family. We had intended to go to London for the remainder of the Season, but changed our plans at your request."
Her Ladyship scowled. "The shame and disrespect you have shown my daughter shall not be forgotten! Can you believe that by destroying the prospects of one girl, you are made free to pollute as much of the world as you like? Is there no hope of salvaging Pemberley?"
"As I have not yet been so fortunate as to see Pemberley for myself, I cannot vouch for if it polluted. I certainly hope not. Mrs. Bingley was there last summer. She was greatly pleased by the house and grounds. And, of course, we are both pleased she was able to renew her friendship with Mr. Darcy while she was there! Without that happy coincidence, none of us would be situated as cheerfully as we are!"
Elizabeth wore a broad smile as Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed. She understood the disappointed hopes of a mother who had wanted her own child to marry Mr. Darcy, but Elizabeth refused to behave as though her marriage was something she must apologise for. Vows could not be rescinded, so doubts and fears were meaningless. Darcy had drawn up the settlements, they met before God, and she surrendered her virginity. The ire of the house of de Bourgh could undo nothing that had been done. What was there left to do but smile and pretend it had all been done joyfully? If Lady Catherine needed confirmation that it had been done otherwise, she would not get it from Elizabeth.
"You are an insolent girl," Lady Catherine spat.
Kitty burst into laughter. Serving herself from a plate of jelly, she said, "But Lizzy is insolent, I think. Georgiana and I talked it over and we have decided Fitzwilliam must like it, otherwise he would not have married her. It does seem odd, but he's rich enough that he can do what he pleases."
"Thank you, Kitty," Elizabeth said. "That is quite enough."
"I suppose it is possible all rich men are peculiar in their tastes," Kitty continued, "though I do not know any other very rich men. Georgiana must, because you are all related to an Earl somehow. She thinks Fitzwilliam does whatever he likes."
Elizabeth searched for some subtle way to remind Kitty of their conversation in the hall. How quickly she had forgotten her fear of Darcy's wrath!
Lady Catherine inquired about her age.
"I am eighteen," Kitty replied. Her statement came out half like a question.
"Your conduct," her ladyship announced with grave importance, "is more suitable for a nursery than a dining room."
Kitty winced and said no more. Although she was sure she could rouse her sister into further conversation, Elizabeth thought it best to let silence reign over the rest of the meal. She did not wish to risk Kitty walking blindly into more insults.
All around the table, Elizabeth saw unhappy faces she would have to cheer. In a single course, Lady Catherine had offended Darcy, distressed Georgiana and humiliated Kitty. Though she still believed friendship with the de Bourgh branch of the family was possible, Elizabeth already found herself questioning if it was worthwhile. Would having such a woman in their lives make any of them happier?
She put the question out of her mind. Family was the cornerstone of society. It must be worth it.
The young ladies had a reprieve after dinner. With only one gentleman at the table, Elizabeth had not anticipated a separation of the sexes after the meal. However, rather than Lady Catherine rising from the table to direct the party to the drawing room, Miss de Bourgh did. The confused guests followed her while her ladyship and Darcy remained in their chairs, staring one another down from opposite ends of the long table.
The atmosphere in the drawing room was much easier. The five remaining women quickly divided themselves into two groups—Miss de Bourgh and Mrs. Jenkinson by the fire, and Elizabeth, Kitty and Georgiana on the sofa. Georgiana's choice of companionship was strange. Her acquaintance with the Bennet sisters was short.
"Your aunt has very decided opinions. I would like her for it if they were not all set against me."
"I am so sorry about the procession, Lizzy!" Georgiana cried. "I did not know she was going to do that and I did not wish to go! You should have been first!"
Elizabeth blinked. "I am not at all upset about that." Her only interest was to have a conversation about something Georgiana would be able to talk about. "My standing is so new, I would forget it myself if I had not so many people to remind me."
"My brother was angry."
"I believe you are correct, but his opinions are not mine any more than Lady Catherine's ideas about precedence are yours."
Kitty added, "She could be apologising to him. Do you suppose she's doing that?"
Doubtful. But Elizabeth said, "We shall have to wait and see."
Minutes passed slowly in the drawing room. Miss de Bourgh's whispers were for Mrs. Jenkinson alone. After Georgiana had exhausted her allotment of apologies for imagined offenses, she had nothing left to say. Kitty had a lot to say—at the top of the hour, she could think of no greater delight than the beauty of the drawing room; by the end of the hour, she was dreadfully bored and despised everything about it. Elizabeth would welcome any distraction: a game, a book, her husband.
Darcy's eventual entrance did not bring relief. His skin was pale, his shoulders tense and his forehead drawn. His anger was unmistakable. No apologies had been issued. Could he and Lady Catherine have argued for an hour without reaching any kind of understanding?
Lady Catherine's spirits did not appear much better, but being that it was her own house, she could direct her energy towards more productive ends than being wrathful at everyone. There was coffee to be poured and a card table to bring out. The persons worthy of being entertained were to play quadrille, and the others left to their own devices.
Mrs. Jenkinson had been called on to pour the coffee, and Elizabeth, with nothing else to do, returned her cup. Mrs. Jenkinson whispered, "Let me wish you joy, Mrs. Darcy."
"I thank you."
"Miss de Bourgh would wish you all the joy in the world if she could."
"Assure her I know I have stolen her beau. She may wish me misery, if she prefers."
Mrs. Jenkinson was wide-eyed at the tease. Very seriously, she said, "Miss de Bourgh does not begrudge you the match, Mrs. Darcy, not at all. Her mother does—of course, the mother does—but Miss de Bourgh never wanted any part of Derbyshire."
"I am relieved," Elizabeth replied, "though I do hear that part of the country is beautiful."
"And Pemberley is the loveliest of all, or so I hear."
"Thank you."
The proxy approval of a possibly jilted girl made Elizabeth brave enough to wander to the card table and observe the players. The game was progressing as she would have expected: Darcy and Miss de Bourgh were in an alliance; he played poorly, she, disinterestedly. Lady Catherine had distinct ideas about every counter, fish and oblong, from the colour of each person's chips to how they arranged their basket.
"Lizzy, you may have my spot if you wish to play."
"That is very kind, Georgiana, but I hardly know a Spadille from a Manille."
"Hertfordshire ladies do not play cards?" Lady Catherine drawled. "The evenings must be dull indeed."
"Different games are popular in different places among different people. My oldest sister prefers Vingt-Un to any other game and my youngest sister plays Lottery."
"Mrs. Darcy prefers reading to cards," her husband added.
"You play high," Elizabeth protested. "I would rather spend my money than gamble it away."
"Yet another admirable quality. But in this case, we are not playing for money."
"I am relieved to hear it. Your basket is looking rather low."
Elizabeth stood by his shoulder until supper was served. She wished to attribute the improvement in Darcy's playing to his pleasure at her taking an interest, but it could be more easily explained by his breaking the alliance for a solo bid at a particularly auspicious moment.
After supper, when Elizabeth retired, she beckoned Darcy to follow her to her apartment. He dismissed poor Bellamy again, with words rather than a lingering presence. He had helped Elizabeth into her gown. Surely the office of removing it was also his? Elizabeth was willing to allow him that pleasure, but first she wished to know, "What did Lady Catherine say to you after dinner?"
"Can you not guess?'
"I prefer solid answers to guesses."
What she knew thus far was this: On the eve of their wedding, an express letter had arrived at Darcy's London residence. It was sent on to Hertfordshire with all due haste, where it arrived just early enough to prevent the foursome from decamping Longbourn and moving on to Town. Her reason for writing could not be determined from the letter itself, only that Lady Catherine demanded Darcy's immediate presence. Darcy was, as a rule, not much moved by the will of others, and presuming she wanted nothing more than for him to make up the annual Easter visit he had skipped, they dallied in Hertfordshire for another week before journeying to Rosings. Though he spent the days writing letters of business for the direction of Pemberley in his continued absence, Elizabeth thought the desire to show Lady Catherine how little power she held over him was some inducement for Darcy to take his time.
"The rain that made our journey so miserable has had other, more dire consequences. When Lady Catherine wrote her letter, the river was so high that it had flooded her fields."
He had been pale all evening. Elizabeth did not doubt her own pallor now came to match his. "Her farmers must grow wheat. Wheat is hearty," she said. Her words were true. She was a girl from the Hertfordshire countryside, where grain ruled. "It can survive flooding." Her words were true, but his manner seemed to forbid they be said with conviction.
"It can, provided certain conditions are met. The floodwaters remained high for too long. The entire wheat crop was destroyed, as were the pease, beans and barley."
She reached for his hand. "I understand why she wished for you to come, but you cannot undo the damage."
"Not to the fields, but think of the damage to her people! Many of the labourers have left. Those that stay remain because they do not know where else to go. The farmers claim they cannot make rent without a crop to sell. The mills will have nothing to grind. There will be no bread. Without beans, there will be no feed for livestock."
Elizabeth shook her head. "It is only May. The farmers are months away from harvest. There is plenty of time for these things to be bought. No one will starve."
"Without a crop to sell, the farmers have no income. Flour and beans can be imported, yes, but doing so will raise the price of bread beyond what they can afford. No one who has left will have any cause to return and those that stay may yet be forced to leave."
"What can be done?"
He shook his head. "I cannot say until I have assessed the farms myself."
Whatever Elizabeth had expected, it was not a disaster of this magnitude. Her husband looked defeated before he had even begun the recovery. "Kitty," she said softly, "thought she might have wished to apologise."
"And I would have demanded one, had her circumstances been anything else. Neither her father nor Sir Lewis taught her to manage the land in times of strife, and she has always felt her will alone enough to forestall feeling the effects of it."
"Is she in danger of going into debt?"
Darcy looked at her oddly. "Lizzy, look around you. Rosings is not the work of many generations; Sir Lewis rebuilt the house. Lady Catherine fit it up. Every piece has been purchased within the last thirty years. This house is nothing more than an illusion of wealth hiding massive debt. When Anne gains control, she will have no choice but to retrench. Lady Catherine has too much pride to do it herself. You have not had the occasion to move much among quality people, but this is not uncommon. Poor management of the land, poor management of debt, excessive gambling, excessive spending, over reliance on stewards...this is what it leads to."
She folded herself into Darcy's arms, biting the lip that longed to cry out again, 'what can be done?' Still and quiet, he held her for a long moment. Although he remained agitated, Elizabeth was soothed by the solidity of his person and how reliable she knew him to be. And, she was thankful for her own father. Mr. Bennet may be lazy, indolent and a failure in so many respects, but he was nothing like the gentlemen of quality that Darcy had described. He paid his debts and never let his family's spending exceed their income. No farmer was immune from seasons when the crops failed, and when the people at Longbourn suffered, Mr. Bennet was able to care for them.
Darcy's hands began to move. It was soothing. He dragged his palms up and down her back, across her shoulders and down again. Her muscles seemed to melt. Her forehead fit so well against his neck.
And then he was unbuttoning her gown, stepping away from her just far enough to pull the sleeves from her shoulders. His eyes not meeting hers, Darcy said, "I had hoped to abstain while we were here. I should not want my attention to cause you any embarrassment." He dropped her gown. It fell until catching on the swell of her hips, and with his gentle guidance, pooled on the floor.
She shivered.
"I find myself in need of your comfort," he murmured.
"I need you, too," Elizabeth whispered.
He responded well to encouragement. Diligent fingers unlaced her stays and disposed of her petticoats. She wished for more composure than she had under such an onslaught. Her hair raised and her skin flushed. To be held was more of a comfort to her than this, but she would not deny him something he needed so desperately.
She slipped out of her shoes, then tapped his ankle with her toe. Her stockings were silk, deliciously smooth. "Remember to untie my garters."
He moaned. "I love you, Lizzy."
This story has been in the works for a very long time. Many people have read and commented on various versions of it including redhead, Karen1220, PhryneFisher and IAmElizaBennet. Beta'ing by JRTT, SMAW, Skydreamer and foreverhypnosis. The four of them have also been Christened by me as the Title Club. Auxiliary Title Club members include, but are probably not limited to FeliceB and ramurphy2005. IF YOU or someone you love is a Title Club Auxiliary Member and I have forgotten you/them, my apologies. The Title Crown is worn by Skydreamer.