Author's Note: Thank you to everybody for your comments, they are all much appreciated. However, I wanted to address one thought-provoking comment posted by "guest" in particular, to the effect that I should include more balance and show not only a woman's perspective of the Regency, but also a man's. That is coming, when you see more of Darcy's perspective. We're just not there yet, although you will see a peek in this chapter.

I also want to say that while I am interested in women's experience in the Regency, I do not see their oppressed status as coming at the hands of men particularly, but rather of society, which is made up of both men and women (and which results from many, many factors and circumstances of history). I think that is true then as now - some of the most restrictive and least tolerant people for unconventional female behaviour have always been other women.

In any case, I am not trying to write an activist fic, but rather just to tell a plausibly "true" story about humans at that time and have some fun playing with Austen's beloved characters. What you take from it will be entirely up to you.

Chapter 7 - Misgivings

Now thou has loved me one whole day,
Tomorrow when you leav'st, what wilt thou say?

- John Donne, "Woman's Constancy"

The subject of a husband's constancy was dismissed but not entirely forgotten. At times, Elizabeth found herself studying Darcy, wondering.

She might have found some way to introduce the subject if they had had opportunity to speak alone for any length of time. But while Mr. Bennet was kind enough to allow them to sit alone at the piano or speak quietly together over books or backgammon, he did not permit them to wander off out of view. It was not a subject Elizabeth was willing to raise without a guaranty that they would not be interrupted.

Hope for relief came in the shape of her aunt. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived five days before the planned nuptials, bringing with them their little ones. It was not an easy time for Mr. Gardiner to leave his warehouses, but they wished to meet their nieces' betrotheds and see Elizabeth one last time before her removal north took her out of easy reach.

Elizabeth was proud to introduce her aunt and uncle to Darcy and delighted to see that they got along at once. Before her marriage, Mrs. Gardiner had spent a considerable amount of time in the town of Lambton, which was not five miles from Pemberley. This ready source of conversation allowed all parties to take each other's measure with a minimum of awkwardness, and soon they were chatting away pleasantly. Darcy smiled several times during the conversation and at one point even looked on the verge of laughter.

"I like him, Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner told her late that evening, when they had finally been released from the numerous company that Mrs. Bennet felt necessary to bestow upon any visiting friends. "He is not as easy and friendly as Mr. Bingley, but he is clearly a very intelligent and thoughtful man. And his sense of humour is quite delightful when it makes its appearance."

Elizabeth thanked her with a look. "I was glad to see you and my uncle speak to him. He has difficulty conversing with my mother and father. Although I hope the difficulty with my father will not be lasting. With so many similar intellectual interests, they really ought to be friends."

"I heard about the marriage settlements from Mr. Philips," Mrs. Gardiner smiled knowingly. "Mr. Darcy must have thought Mr. Bennet had taken leave of his senses. Did you explain?"

"Not yet," Elizabeth said impishly. "There has not really been the occasion, nor the need. At present we are both joined in resenting my father for not allowing us any privacy. Not that I blame him."

Mrs. Gardiner laughed. "I am glad to see I do not have to lecture you, Lizzy. What a sight you must have made! Especially Mr. Darcy. Your friends are used to you expressing yourself as you please, but I gather they are not used to seeing him so little dignified."

"No," Elizabeth smiled. "In fact, I think that may account for part of his present reserve. I am not sure whether it was our engagement announcement or our small scandal, but I feel as if we are stared at wherever we go."

A knock on the door was followed by Jane making her appearance in the room.

"Did you ask her?" she said to Elizabeth.

Mrs. Gardiner lifted her eyebrows. "Is it time for that already?"

"Time for what?" said Elizabeth.

"I have books for each of you. They are part of my presents to you, but I thought you would like them prior to the wedding. Excuse me one moment."

Mrs. Gardiner left the room while the sisters looked at each other curiously. When she returned she was carrying two packages wrapped in paper. She gave one to each of her nieces. They opened them to find two identical, new editions of The Works of Aristotle, the famous philosopher, in four parts.[1] Elizabeth flipped a few pages and began laughing. It was clear this book had nothing to do with the ancient philosopher.

"It is not really so scandalous, Lizzy. Many married couples have this book. It tells you all about what to expect on your wedding night and what to do once you are with child…" she trailed off as Jane joined in the laughter and Elizabeth only laughed harder. "What is the joke?"

"It is a lovely present! I will greatly enjoy having my own copy. But my dear aunt, Mama has already given us an older version of this book to read, and I read the version in Papa's library years ago. It is even older than Mama's, and more scandalous." Elizabeth reached under her mattress and pulled out a battered book. She turned it over and frowned. "In fact, I think this may be our Grandpapa's copy."

Mrs. Gardiner shook her head. "I should have known. And so, you do not need information of what you can expect on your wedding nights?"

"Lizzy certainly does not, aunt," said Jane.

"Can I help it if Papa allows us free rein of his library? It is a good thing that our younger sisters have no interest in medical texts or learning foreign languages.[2] I shudder to think what could happen if Lydia ever found Papa's store of wicked French novels."

"My goodness!" Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed. "Mr. Bennet has not raised you at all properly if he allows you to read such things, Lizzy."

"I do not think Papa knows," said Elizabeth, then added with a smile, "or perhaps he does not care, since they are scarcely well hidden. After all, he does say knowledge should go to those who will take the trouble to seek it."

Mrs. Gardiner shook her head in mild disapproval. "Very well, then. What was it you wished to ask me if not that?"

Jane and Elizabeth immediately became serious. They both sat down on Elizabeth's bed while Mrs. Gardiner sat in a chair facing them. Jane looked at Elizabeth to begin and she did so.

"How common is it for men to have lovers before they are wed? And - and after?"

Mrs. Gardiner's face immediately changed from amused to serious. "Why do you ask that? Has something happened to make you think-"

"No, aunt. We were only wondering," Jane said.

Mrs. Gardiner scrutinized her nieces earnestly for a moment. Then she sighed.

"I do not know."

"Oh! But surely-" Elizabeth said, then stopped, looking alarmed.

"I think, Lizzy, that you are asking me to tell you the truth, and the truth is I do not know."

The sisters sat silent, dismayed. It was clear they had hoped for another answer.

"My dears. I know you know it happens and it is nothing outside of the common. I think the real question you wish to ask me is whether I think it is likely to happen to you. Am I correct?"

They both nodded.

"The first thing you must understand - that I assume you already know - is that gentlemen have far more opportunity than ladies. The wealthier the gentlemen, the more opportunity they have, especially if they live in Town and live fashionable lives. So do I think Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy have already-? My answer is most likely, yes."

Jane, owl-eyed, nodded solemnly. Elizabeth looked rebellious.

"As for what happens after… There it is more difficult to say. You know it happens very frequently in the marriages of the great. It is expected and accepted and even, for men, a point of pride. You have only to read the newspapers to know that."

This was true. The scandal sheets reported gleefully or enviously on the liaisons of the wealthy and fashionable and even the more sober newspapers, the ones that Elizabeth read daily, referred to such doings with alacrity, although under more polite euphemisms. This was the circle that Darcy was part of, judging by the appearance of his name on the distinguished guest lists reported in the newspapers. Did he consider himself one of their number in every way?

Mrs. Gardiner, studying Elizabeth's expressive face, continued.

"But even among them it may not happen every time. For example, Lizzy, I have never heard anything of Mr. Darcy's uncle in that vein."

Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Gardiner sadly. "But that may not mean anything. That may mean only that he is discreet."

"Yes, that is possible." Mrs. Gardiner was silent, trying to choose her words carefully, then said, "My dears, it is impossible to make generalizations. Do men have opportunity everywhere? Yes. Do many of them choose to take it up? It seems so. But do all of them? I do not think so. There seems to be as much individual predilection and preference among them as us."

"Do you think, aunt … " Jane blushed, then continued. "Do you think our uncle has?"

Mrs. Gardiner smiled, a proud, happy smile. "Perhaps I am naive, but I do not think so, Jane."

"How do you know?"

"You just know. When you are very close with your husband and love him intimately, you know he could not."

Elizabeth broke in. "But aunt, perhaps when a woman is so much in love, it is her partiality that speaks and not the objective circumstances. Not that I am saying anything about our uncle…"

"I understand, Lizzy. It is a fair point and there may be some partiality involved. But I think it is more than that. When you are intimate with your husband, you are a part of his life in so many ways. He wants to share everything with you - not only his bed, but his thoughts, his concerns, all of his time. Your lives are intertwined. It is difficult to see how he could have a whole life, a whole part of his heart and mind, of which you are not aware. And it is difficult to see how another person could fit in. There are no gaps."

Jane smiled happily, her eyes shining. "Aunt, what you describe, it is - it is perfect. That is what I wish for in my marriage."

Mrs. Gardiner reached over and squeezed Jane's hand. "I hope you will have it my dear. I think you will. Mr. Bingley loves you very much and there is no one more deserving."

She looked at Elizabeth, who was quiet. "Lizzy? I think the chance for you is also strong. Mr. Darcy is not so demonstrative of his feelings as Mr. Bingley, but I do not think that means they are any less strong."

Elizabeth stood up and began pacing. "Aunt, I know so little about him."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought I knew all about him because we enjoyed the same books, had the same tastes and opinions on some things and danced well together. But that is nothing! I have no idea what he is like outside of Hertfordshire, outside of this house even! I know hardly anything about his family and their great castles and estates, and nothing at all of the opera singers and actresses he is friends with."

She spun on her heel and faced away from Mrs. Gardiner. "Papa was right. I have been very hasty and foolish."

Mrs. Gardiner stood up and reached for Elizabeth's hand and patted it. "Lizzy, my dear. Be calm. You are exciting yourself for nothing. Of course you do not know these things. It is perfectly normal not to know everything about your betrothed as you enter marriage. You will learn once you are married. As for the actresses and opera singers - that does not mean anything, necessarily."

Elizabeth smiled wryly, calm again. "Necessarily."

Mrs. Gardiner led her to sit down again beside Jane, who was eyeing Elizabeth worriedly.

"My girls, I cannot tell you what the future holds. But I wish to say one more thing. Even if a man looks elsewhere after marriage, it is not necessarily significant, especially for extremely wealthy men who have all the choice in the world. Men are … they are different from women. They seem to be able to have liaisons outside and yet still remain committed and loving to their families. So even if it happens, it may be merely a momentary pleasure for an evening, a diversion, nothing more. A wife can focus on their home together and be content."

"That is what I said, aunt," Jane said.

Elizabeth stared hard at her aunt and sister. "It sounds as if you both believe Mr. Darcy would. Else why would you say that?"

They both blushed simultaneously. "No, no, Lizzy," said Jane. "I would never think so ill of Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth smiled crookedly. "That is because you would never allow yourself to think so ill of anybody! But confess, Jane, you believe it to be a possibility."

Jane squirmed under Elizabeth's candid gaze and dropped her eyes.

"Aunt?" Elizabeth demanded.

Mrs. Gardiner, who had somewhat more fortitude than Jane, nodded slowly. "Yes, Lizzy, I think it is a possibility. But that does not mean it will happen. Mr. Darcy may be different from other men of his rank."

"But there is nothing to indicate that he is, is there, aunt?" Elizabeth said.

There was a long pause. Finally, Mrs. Gardiner said, "We do not know enough, Lizzy."

"Jane?" Elizabeth turned to her sister.

Jane took a deep breath. "I agree with my aunt, Lizzy. But I do not see how it would help you to go into your marriage with suspicion."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows skeptically. As she had told Jane earlier, she did not think there was much one could do to prevent one's husband from straying if he was determined to do so. But to prevent being made a fool of! Ah, there she did not feel so helpless.

One day, Darcy thought. One day and he would be free of this tiny corner of Hertfordshire, where excitement was the vicar's daughter marrying the local brewer's son and enlightened discourse consisted of an argument over whether French cooks were superior to English ones. He would take Elizabeth and return to his old haunts, of great estates and powerful statesmen and momentous affairs. Thank God.

They were bound for Longbourn, he and Bingley and Bingley's sister, intent on making their expected daily call. Miss Bingley was chattering on about some nonsense, but he could not attend other than to give monosyllabic answers at expected intervals.

It would be another day crowded - nay, overcrowded - with visitors. For a woman who was a dunce, Mrs. Bennet displayed an instinctive mathematical sense. He was certain there was a linear relationship between the nearness of his nuptials and the number of guests. Last night they had sat down to dinner with thirty-six people. If the pattern held, today would be forty-two.

It had been days since he had had ten minutes of Elizabeth all to himself, days since her attention had been undivided on him. There was no corner of Longbourn that was not full of people, none of whom seemed to consider that he might prefer conversation with the woman he loved to their prolix congratulations.

Especially…officers. Darcy clenched his jaw. What was it with the Bennets and redcoats? They were everywhere in the house, being admired, laughing, flirting and being flirted with.

Elizabeth herself had spent much of last evening chatting with a group of officers and practically ignoring him. Oh, she was not flirting exactly. But she had been friendly and welcoming, and had listened and laughed at their jokes and looked up at them with her beguiling eyes. Several times he had caught an officer staring at the bodice of her gown. She had not seemed to notice. Or, perhaps, care. He scuffed the toe of his gleaming boot against the side of the carriage angrily.

And then she had gone off with Lieutenant Denny. They had not gone far - Darcy caught up with them in the music room where sister Mary was playing a plodding minuet - but they had been deep in earnest conversation. And when Darcy had reclaimed her company, Elizabeth had not seemed glad. Instead, she had said, almost resentfully, "We were only saying good-bye. I have friends too, you know." What was that supposed to mean?

They turned the curve and entered the yard to Longbourn, the carriage bumping over a rut. He felt irritation. Surely it was the same one his horse had narrowly missed stumbling over a month ago. What kind of estate owner was Mr. Bennet that he could not attend to the ruts in the road?

In the house, neither Jane nor Elizabeth were to be seen. The mantua-maker was still with them, he was informed. The drawing-room was already full of visitors. The Gardiners were there, of course, but also the Philips and the Lucases.

He sat down by the Gardiners and they spoke about the new exhibit at one of the museums in Town, then the improvement in victualling and supplying the navy with the opening of one of the canals. Mr. Gardiner, whose customers held a number of naval supply contracts, was intelligent and well-informed. He began to feel a little more at ease. But then Sir William Lucas came over to relay messages and advice from his aunt, Lady Catherine, as filtered through the double layer of Mr. Collins's and Sir William Lucas's unctuousness. His irritation mounted. Lady Catherine was no friend of his marriage and he had told her in clear terms that communication between them was to cease for the time being. This was her way of getting around the injunction, apparently.

Where was Elizabeth? Did she not know he was here? Was she so secure of him that she no longer felt the need to make the effort? The officer contingent would be showing up before long to monopolize everybody's attention and … Lydia's delighted squeal in the hallway announced they had arrived. Blast. He excused himself on the pretense of wishing to consult Mr. Bennet on some logistical detail. In reality he sought the open air.

A few turns in the prettyish sort of wilderness beyond the house eased his agitation but did little to allay the knot of anxiety in his gut.

What was he doing here? He did not belong. These were not his people. They might as well be speaking a foreign language. The words that came out might be English, but devoid of its noble meaning, replaced by frippery, fatuity, nonsense.

Elizabeth. He was here for Elizabeth. Surely she must have come down by now. He returned to the house, passing by the dining room windows as he walked. His name spoken by Mrs. Bennet's loud, carrying voice brought him to a stop.

"Yes, Miss Lizzy's place right there, Sarah, across from Mr. Darcy. And one of the handsome officers on her left - Chamberlayne, I think, he seems to be her favourite after Denny. She certainly deserves what fun she can get before she is married, the dear, dear girl!"

The maid's murmured response was not distinguishable, but Mrs. Bennet's was. "Indeed, I had given up on it. It came as the greatest surprise when we discovered them in the butler's pantry. But you know, Mr. Bennet always said she was the cleverest of all of our girls. I did think she was ridiculous to be reading all of those books with Mr. Darcy. Poor girl, she must have found it tedious in the extreme! But it seems she knew exactly what she was about after all, she and Mr. Bennet. I am sorry I ever doubted him! Now Sarah, if you hear anything about the pin-money, you must tell me. Mr. Bennet will not say a word."

There it was. The knife in the gut. Hedworth was right after all. He had been played for a fool. Had he not been waiting for it, dreading it? And was it not his own fault for attempting to catch a falling star, get with child a mandrake root? The poet was right.[3] Nowhere lived a woman true and fair, who would love him for himself and not for specious reasons. He tasted salt and realized he had bit his lip. He blotted the blood with his handkerchief and resumed walking.

It did not matter now. He was committed to the straight path of duty, honour a high wall on every side forbidding escape. With the calmness of despair, he traced his way back to the house, his step measured and deliberate.

In the house, Elizabeth had come down to greet the visitors and was standing talking with Mrs. Gardiner. She was wearing a light-coloured gown with no fichu, which showed off her lovely neck and slender limbs. Her dark head was poised and queenly above it all. At least his wife would be fair, certainly fair enough for bedding and begetting and showing off. So why did it feel like defeat?

"Mr. Darcy!" She looked happy to see him and came over to him, smiling. The darkness gnawing at him receded somewhat.

"Mr. Darcy, my aunt and uncle inform me that they plan to take a tour of the Lakes this coming summer and visit their friends in Lambton. May I-? Do you think-?" She stopped, hesitant.

This will be my wife. It is my duty to make her happy. It was not a hard duty, so winsome and alluring as she was.

"Yes, of course we must receive them at Pemberley," he said formally. "I hope they will stay with us as long as they wish."

She smiled her joy, then returned to Mrs. Gardiner and made the invitation. Mrs. Gardiner's face lit up and Elizabeth's glowed. She threw him bright glances, full of teasing and affection. Her happiness was infectious. When she was done, she returned to him smiling, and now he could not help smiling back.

"Would you like to go to the music room?" she asked, laying her hand on his arm. "Mary has new music."

They headed for the music room which was mercifully, delightfully, empty. "I will leave the door open so that Papa is not tempted to send anybody after us," she said with a conscious smile.

They sat down at the pianoforte. He should have asked her why she had shut him out and would scarcely look at him the last few days; why she had appeared to prefer the company of officers to his own. Instead, he found himself content just to gaze at her.

"You are lovely, Elizabeth."

She smiled at him, then frowned worriedly. "You are bleeding," she said softly.

She touched her bare fingertip to his mouth, a tender caress, which seemed to wipe away all the bitterness of the previous days. He sighed and reached up and clasped her hand in one of his own.

"It is nothing. I accidentally bit myself."

He took out his handkerchief, spread out her hand over his own and slowly and deliberately wiped the smear of blood from her fingertip. She took the handkerchief from him and dabbed delicately at his lip before giving it back to him.

Their knees touched. They looked at each other. Her eyes were clear and liquid, glowing like pools of amber in the sunlight. Her lips were soft and full, begging to be kissed.

She smiled, her mouth inches from his. "If you kiss me, we shall be in trouble again."

He laughed, his heart suddenly light, and sat back from her. "I can wait one day, I think."

She played and sang for him. Her playing was abominable - she had scarcely had any opportunity to practice the new songs, she told him - but her voice was fresh and tuneful as always and her eyes teased and dared him to criticize her performance.

He watched her in satisfaction. What did it matter if one had to purchase love so long as it was truly bought? Once wed, she would be his - her beauty, her body, her loyalty - and he would have all society and the law at his back to vindicate his claim. Should he not be content? Oh, what was love anyway?

NOTES:

[1] Also known as Aristotle's Compleat Master-Piece or Aristotle's Masterpiece. This was a popular sex and reproduction manual that was continuously in print from the 17th Century until the early 20th Century. The author was unknown and probably consisted of a number of people. The content evolved over time with changing views. For example, female sexual appetite, initially portrayed as lusty and even uncontrollable in the 17th Century, became glossed over or even denied by the 19th Century.

[2] Erotic literature and illustrations flourished around this time. There was also a great interest in anatomy and detailed diagrams and wax models of human bodies and reproductive parts abounded. Statements in some medical manuals that the depictions were intended for academic and not erotic purposes were suggestive of how the books were actually used, and life-sized wax models of beautiful women known as "Anatomical Venuses" that could be dismantled and dissected down to the entrails were popular public displays.

[3] John Donne, "Song: Go and Catch a Falling Star."