Richard had awoken to strange noises in the past – gunfire and men shouting were the most common ones, but when he was home often it would be his valet not-so-subtly opening curtains to hint that he was late for a meeting with his father, or sometimes his mother would sweep in and begin speaking without even looking to see if he was fully awake or not. Since his marriage, if Diana woke up before him he would hear the rustling of her skirts as she moved around the room, trying to be quiet and failing miserably. Hence, the days he woke up to complete silence were rare, and he relished in them.
And yet, there it was. As sleep faded and an awareness of his surroundings returned to him, Richard realized that it was still relatively dark in the room, which led him to believe the sun had barely risen, if that. Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary, and Diana was breathing peacefully next to him, her head tucked under his chin securely. Richard allowed himself to enjoy her warmth for a while, a small smile tugging at his mouth when she sighed in her sleep, one of her hands curling around his arm automatically.
However, reality dealt a swift blow to his thoughts. Memories of the previous night, complete with her bloodshot eyes, almost non-existent appetite and lack of laughter for the duration of the evening made his blood boil. He had eventually learned of what his aunt had said to her, of course, he had insisted that Diana tell him every word. He would have dearly loved to go up to Lady Ellen and confront her, at the very least make her apologize for the hurtful things she had said, but Diana had practically begged him not to. She had reminded him, tearfully, that if he caused a scene that night, it was she who would have to deal with the aftermath when he was gone. Alone.
"I don't want to do these things without you," she had choked out, her eyes wide and glistening with tears. She had been too emotionally frazzled to even pretend to be doing something else, so intent was she on hanging on to his arm and ensuring he did not leave her side. "Please, do this for me, Richard, please."
And so, he had done as she had asked. He had kept his distance from Lady Ellen, but not before pulling aside his father in the rare moments Diana had relinquished his arm in favour of his brother's. As shortly as possible, Richard had told Lord Fitzwilliam of what had transpired, and the older man had said nothing. However, he did not need to. His thin lips, darkening eyes and stoic expression had said it all – the next time Richard had glanced at him in passing, he was speaking quite seriously to his mother, who was doing an excellent job of pretending to look completely unaffected, but in reality was close to tears.
Unconsciously, Richard gritted his teeth and clenched his free hand into a fist – the other one was resting on his wife's back, keeping her pressed into his side. His anger would not let up, however, but he was loath to wake her after the night they had both had. Making up his mind that a stroll through the grounds would help alleviate his anger and allow her to sleep until such a time as they needed to be awake, he gently untangled himself from around her and eased her back against the pillows, making sure to tuck the quilt around her securely so the chill would not wake her.
He dressed quickly and silently, only stopping long enough to kiss his wife's forehead before exiting the room quietly. Pemberley was peaceful and enveloped in a sleepiness that Richard almost envied. Hee navigated the halls expertly, intent on leaving via the servants' entrance so as to avoid meeting anyone. However, as he passed by one of the smaller parlours that had been fitted for Elizabeth's personal use, he was surprised to hear music coming from inside. Someone was awake.
Curiosity ignited, Richard pushed the door open and peered inside, raising his eyebrows when he saw Elizabeth seated at the pianoforte, painstakingly playing a tune whilst glaring at the sheet-music stacked up in front of her. When there was a pause in her playing, Richard pointedly cleared his voice, announcing his presence.
"Oh!" Elizabeth jumped slightly and whirled around in her seat, but gave him a smile when she saw who had interrupted her. "Good morning, cousin. You are up early."
"As are you," he replied, hovering in the doorway for only a moment before accepting Elizabeth's invitation to be seated. "An interesting time for practice," he commented, taking a seat opposite the instrument. It was new - Darcy must have had it bought specifically for his wife.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "If only I had the time, or the inclination. I was just copying some music," she gestured to the papers around her, and Richard realized there were many more littering the surface of the pianoforte, as well as some scraps of blank paper and a pencil. "My sister, Mary, is quite proficient, and she has begged me to send her some new pieces with Mrs. Bingley when she returns to Netherfield. I could not find the time to go and shop for them, so Georgiana was kind enough to offer some of her own."
Richard nodded, but did not say any more. His temper had not cooled, and the last thing he wanted was to offend Darcy's wife at such an early hour with a rude comment. However, Elizabeth did not seem to mind his silence. She continued to play, pausing only now and again to make changes in the music she was writing out carefully.
"I don't suppose Darcy is awake?" asked Richard finally. Perhaps he could induce his cousin to accompany him for a ride.
Elizabeth smiled fondly. "He was quite exhausted after all the mingling and socializing of last night," Richard cracked a smile at that, and Elizabeth gave him a knowing look. "You are welcome to wake him if you need him, of course. Unless I can help?"
She sounded genuinely curious, and looked ready to be helpful as well. Richard was about to wave away her request, when he paused. Surely, after everything Diana had done to help Elizabeth, she would be willing to listen, and perhaps even talk to her? He doubted it could hurt. Proud though she was, Diana was the first to admit that handling society after his departure would be difficult for her to do alone. She had even smiled when she told him that having his family on her side meant the world to her. Having the new Mrs. Darcy on her side could certainly do no harm.
"Richard?" Elizabeth sounded slightly concerned now. "Shall I fetch Mr. Darcy?"
Richard shook himself out of his thoughts and patted her arm to assure her he was fine. "I am merely thinking," he said.
"Of?"
Richard hesitated for only a moment before he found himself telling her everything, from Diana's reports of the whispers she had heard to his aunt's treatment of her, and her subsequent panic attack but refusal to leave the ball. His words were jumbled, his voice was loud, and he was gesturing madly with his hands – all in all, he was sure he looked quite the picture.
Elizabeth did not react. She merely folded her hands in her lap and listened intently, her lips pursed. But, when he got to the part where his aunt had told Diana exactly what was wrong with her – namely, everything that was beyond her control – Elizabeth looked confused.
"I understand why Lady Carmichael would bring up Diana's late husband, and her inability to have children," she said, though her tone said she was far from understanding. "Even her mother, I suppose. Though she is not unlike mine I cannot fault mamma on how much she loves her daughters. But what is this about her father? I thought he died many years ago, before her marriage."
Richard blinked, then gave his cousin an incredulous look. "Has Darcy not told you the way Diana's father died?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "I never thought to ask. Everyone just always said it was unfortunate, I assumed it was an accident."
Richard grimaced. "I wouldn't say that."
"What do you mean?" Richard looked hesitant, and Elizabeth seemed to sense it was a sensitive topic. "Forgive me, I did not realize -"
"No, it's fine," Richard waved away her concern. "James Harris was a good man, or so my father says, but he did have his flaws."
"Flaws enough to kill him?" Elizabeth looked sceptical.
"He had a gambling problem," said Richard reluctantly. Elizabeth gasped quietly. "He was the younger son of an earl, but he had a decent inheritance. He bought the estate in Devon just before Diana was born, but everyone says Mina was the one who ran it, while he spent quite a bit of time in London. Diana was very close to him when she was younger, and he doted on her. He spared no expense where she was concerned, not that he needed to. My father says he was the luckiest man he had ever met," Richard smiled grimly. "He was never in debt, until just a year before he died. The money was a great deal, and the pressure to pay back was too much."
Elizabeth looked sympathetic. "The stress must have been awful."
Richard shrugged. "My mother likes to say that it was the stress that killed him, and I daresay she is right, though in my personal opinion the stress of living with Mina would kill any man. He hung himself," he added, when Elizabeth seemed confused. "In his bedroom, whilst Diana was away visiting relatives in Bath. Mina did not say a word, merely summoned her a day before the funeral. They moved to London barely a month later. I met her shortly after she came out of mourning."
Elizabeth had covered her mouth with her hands, looking horrified. Richard leaned back in his chair, only slightly wary of the revelation of his wife's past. Elizabeth was quite possibly the most discreet woman he knew, and he doubted Diana would be against her knowing; she would probably prefer that Elizabeth had found out from Richard rather than from herself. She had only spoken of her father once, that too in passing, but her voice had been full of grief and pain. Richard knew that Mina had expressly forbidden her daughter to mourn her father fully, going along with the rumours that he was a coward and a fool, and no doubt the conflicting opinions had confused Diana greatly.
"I never knew," Elizabeth's quite voice drew him from his thought. "Oh, dear, no wonder Mr. Darcy was so insistent on giving her away at your wedding. It must be so painful for her."
"She does not like to speak of it," replied Richard.
Elizabeth blinked. "Surely she speaks of it to you?" Richard expression gave her the answer, and she frowned. "I don't understand. You have known her for longer than any of us, I should think there is no one she would trust more than you."
Richard felt the need to defend himself. "It is not a question of trust. She has never been ready to speak of him, and I never wanted to push her."
"But you can't think she doesn't need to talk about it?" persisted Elizabeth. Richard still looked unconvinced. Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat, her gaze earnest. "The people we love do not always judge themselves well, Richard. Darcy would have the world believe he is proud and aloof simply because it takes too much effort to show them his true nature. Diana would have people think what they want about her, so long as they leave her alone. They are both at fault, because they are both too good to stay unaffected by the things people say about them, though they'd like us to think they are indifferent. Not being able to publicly grieve for her father must have been terrible, but not being able to speak of him whenever she wants, even now? I cannot imagine how that would feel."
Neither can I. Richard closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, the urge to tear out his hair almost overwhelming. Elizabeth was right; of course, Diana needed to talk about her problems. With a sinking feeling, he realized that they had never discussed the one thing he was sure meant more to her than any other. The subject of their marriage, children, even her mother had come up often enough. But never her father. "I should go to her," abruptly, he stood up, giving Elizabeth a half-smile. His mind was whirring; how could he have been so neglectful?
To her credit, Elizabeth did not even blink at his brusque tone. She merely smiled, a little wanly, and allowed him to squeeze her hand before he swept out of the room.
All thoughts of exercise forgotten, Richard retraced his steps in a daze, but paused when he reached the familiar corridor; their bedroom door was slightly open. Problems momentarily forgotten, he frowned, wondering what was going on, until Sarah suddenly stepped outside with her arms full of wrapped gifts and a pile of clothes no doubt intended for washing. She jumped when she saw Richard, dropping two of the folded dresses in her arms, but managed to bob a quick curtsey and a throw him a sheepish smile.
"Is your mistress awake?" asked Richard, bending down to retrieve the fallen articles of clothing.
"Only just, sir," said Sarah. She shifted the various packages in her arms so Richard could hand her the dresses he had picked up. "She wanted the presents put under the tree for tomorrow morning."
Richard nodded, suddenly registering that it was Christmas Eve. In a brisk tone that told Sarah she need not return to the room for a while, he wished her a good day and stepped past her, closing the door firmly behind him once inside. Diana had not been awake for long, he could tell immediately. Though the bed had been neatly made, the cupboard in the corner was flung open, and the fire was crackling merrily in the hearth, the curtains were still fluttering from Sarah's tugging - she was always muttering to herself that Pemberley's drapes seemed to have a mind of their own - and there was a tray of tea on the table by the fire, the single cup that was poured still steaming. All in all, it looked no different from any other day, except Richard could hear Diana singing from inside her dressing-room.
He blinked. Richard could not remember ever hearing Diana sing without the accompaniment of a pianoforte or a harp. She restricted her performances to dinner parties and music rooms, or at least she had when they had first known each other. He had always loved her voice: Richard was fond of music, he had an ear for exceptional voices and within five minutes of Diana's first, slightly hesitant performance, he had told his mother bluntly that she was incredible.
"'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone
All her lovely companions are faded and gone
No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh
To reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh."
He had not heard the song she was singing now before. Considering how quietly she was being, he was surprised at the amount of gentle power in her voice. Though, having heard her perform in a crowded room, he knew he should not be he was anxious to see her, he could not bring himself to call out to her, in case she stopped. Silently, he crossed the room; the door of the dressing-room was open, and from his position near the door he could see that Diana was sitting on the floor with her back to him, sorting through her various trunks. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw that she was folding clothes, both his and her own. He recalled that she had told Sarah to ignore them as they had left hurriedly, saying she could tidy up the room later, but when they had arrived upstairs by the end of the night, cleaning had been the furthest thing from both their minds. Clearly, it seemed to offer her some respite now, and after the events of the previous night, combined with his new epiphany, Richard was reluctant to upset her. So, he let her carry on with her task and merely leaned against the wall outside the door, closing his eyes. She would stop singing as soon as she saw that he was in the room, he knew that.
"I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, to pine on the stem,
Since the lovely are sleeping, go sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o'er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead."
She stopped then, clearing her throat and letting out a soft sigh. Richard heard her footsteps coming towards the exit, and he reached out his arm and caught her about the waist, pulling her just as she came through the doorway so her back was pressed against his chest.
Diana jumped with fright for only a moment, before realizing it was only him and settling back into his arms. She turned around whilst still in his embrace and smiled, then saw his own smile and threw him a reproachful look.
"You've been listening," she said accusingly.
Richard shrugged, feeling no remorse. "You sing beautifully."
Diana sniffed, still looking displeased, but her cheeks turned pink. "I am out of practice," she cleared her throat again.
He kissed her temple. "Liar."
"Why would I -"
"You sing every morning, don't you?"
Diana bit her lip. "Not every morning," she tried, and Richard raised his eyebrows. Diana smiled sheepishly. "Most mornings," she amended.
"And you can't do it when I'm in the room?"
"We've barely started living together."
"What about this past week?"
"You sleep so soundly!"
"That is because you tire me out," he teased. Diana blushed a deeper red, causing Richard to laugh.
She pinched his arm reprovingly. "Don't tease."
"I enjoy it," he kissed her cheek. "Tell me. Why have I never heard you before?"
"You've only ever heard me when I sound like an angel," suddenly, she was shy, avoiding his eyes and playing with the buttons of his coat. "I just –"
"Darling, though I agree that you are absolutely perfect, I do know that perfection requires practice," said Richard. "And I would have thought you wouldn't mind practicing in front of me."
"Oh, be quiet," Diana huffed and untangled herself from his arms, making a face at him as she returned to the dressing-room. This time, though she left the door between them open, she did not sing, but Richard merely returned to watching her, knowing she would come back to him eventually.
She was still in her nightgown, with a robe and shawl over it, and her hair was deliciously tousled down her back in loose waves, just the way he liked it. It was neater than usual, and his smile faltered when he remembered that was possibly due to the fact that they had spent half the night with Diana curled up against his chest, not crying but severely upset as he had stroked her hair wordlessly, until they had both fallen asleep.
"Where did you go this morning?" her voice jolted him out of his memories. She looked at him curiously as she put a set of clothes onto the bed, probably her outfit for the day. "You had left by the time I had woken up."
"I wanted to take an early morning walk," replied Richard. Inwardly, he wondered if he ought to tell her about his chat with Elizabeth.
"Alone?" Diana frowned. "You could have woken me."
"I thought Darcy would be up. You needed to rest," he caught her hand again as she walked past, and this time did not let go. Diana smiled, allowing herself to be pulled into his arms.
She kissed his cheek lovingly. "I'm fine," she murmured reassuringly. "You do not need to worry."
Richard sighed. "Do you really think I will not, after last night?"
"Last night will not be repeated, you made sure of that."
"I can't make sure of it every time."
"That doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
Richard expected a harsh retort, but instead Diana merely leaned her head against his chest. "I know," she said quietly. "And I am very glad it does."
Richard frowned. He was not used to his wife allowing him to take care of her, she had said often enough that she could look after herself. Before he could question it, however, a sharp knock sounded at their door, unlike Sarah's usual, timid taps. They exchanged a worried look before Richard stepped away from Diana and made for the door, opening it to face John.
The footman looked pale. "Express from London for you, Major General," he said stiffly, holding out a sealed envelope. The handwriting on it was instantly recognizable.
"What is it?" Diana's voice was still quiet from behind him.
Richard did not answer her. "I will send for you in a while," he said to John. The footman bowed, his posture still tense. Richard took the letter and closed the door. He offered Diana a small smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else, and tore open the letter quickly.
Major General Richard Fitzwilliam
Sending you good wishes for Christmas and the new year. Have been advised by General C. to dispatch a reminder to you about your journey to -. We expect you in London on the 2nd of January. Travel arrangements and papers for John Hunt will be available at London base.
It was signed and stamped with the seal of a corporal that Richard knew from his time working from London. Next to him, he felt Diana move and realized she had read it over his shoulder. He looked up and saw that she was walking towards the desk as if in a trance. As she slumped down into the chair, she was shaking slightly.
"Darling, what is it?" the letter forgotten, Richard knelt down by his wife's trembling form and reached for her hands, trying to catch a glimpse of her face as she looked down into her lap, her hair hiding her expression from him.
Diana shook her head. "Thank God," was all she murmured, before throwing her arms around him.
Richard sighed and rubbed her back soothingly, praying she would not now have the panic attack they had so narrowly avoided the night before. The letter had caused her to worry since she had not known its contents, and he hoped that now that she knew nothing was going wrong she would stay calm. He had been concerned as well, of course, the fact that an express had been sent would normally be a sign of changing plans, but he realized now that the request to have John with him and the measures that had been taken to ensure the favour had meant that Crooke would have had to pull a few strings and send confirmation to him as soon as possible. Diana had not been aware of the process.
She calmed down fairly quickly, though she still looked shaken. Richard kissed her forehead. "We still have time," he said, hoping he sounded reassuring.
"Not enough," her smile was sad.
"I am sorry."
Diana shook her head. "It will do," she squeezed his hands and stood up, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I should call Sarah and get ready, and she ought to tell John the letter was nothing to worry about," as she spoke, she drifted towards the bed, picking up one of her dresses and holding it up to look at it critically. "I suppose I should wear this today, it is Christmas Eve. Could you – what?"
Richard had folded his arms across his chest and was watching her with his eyebrows raised, making no move to do the things she had clearly asked of him. Diana looked confused at his stance, until he approached her and plucked the dress from her hands.
"We are not going anywhere," he told her. "I will go and give John the letter, so he can read it and tell Darcy, who will ensure that my mother does not panic when she hears that an express came for me. After that, you and I are going to stay in this room and talk or sleep or do anything except socialize with the other people in this house, because newly-wed couples are not expected to be at the beck and call of their families every day. Is that clear?"
Diana's eyes twinkled. "Is that an order, Major General?"
Richard snorted. "If only it were that easy."
Diana laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "You are adorable," she told him, still smiling. "I will do as you say, but only because I cannot remember the last time you and I did something for ourselves," as she spoke, her fingers travelled down his neck and shoulder joint, coming to rest against the buttons of his shirt pointedly. "Can you?" she fluttered her eyelashes innocently.
He could, actually. Richard worked very hard to commit to memory every moment he spent with his wife, knowing that he would have nothing but those thoughts to keep him going when he was away from her. He should talk to her about her father, force her to open up so that she could feel better about it, perhaps even begin to heal. There would be little time for her to do so in his absence, a multitude of things would keep her busy and he did not want her to deal with the backlash of a casual comment by an unsympathetic matron or relative alone. In conclusion, he should push her away, gently but firmly, and tell her they needed to talk.
But he did no such thing. Instead, he kissed her and vowed that he would talk to her later. Soon. But not now. Now, he would give in to what she wanted, because in that moment he knew he wanted nothing more than her.
Hallo, lovelies! Yes yes I know, it's a little filler-y, but after the bit on Diana's father I couldn't bear to dump too much onto us, I'm still emotionally recovering from chapter 50.
Also, how did NO ONE ever ask me what was the deal with her dad? I swear I have dropped so many hints that there was something going on there...
The song she sings is an Irish poem by the way! It was quite popular in the Regency Era, but I heard a modern version of it and thought it was beautiful. It's called "The Last Rose of Summer", and you can potentially find it on YouTube. The version I had in mind is by Laura Wright, incidentally that is also how I imagine Diana's voice to be :) give it a listen if you're interested!
Anyway, thank you to the lovely comments I got for the last chapter! It had a lot thrown into it, but I'm glad it came off well.
JN: I'm glad you're enjoying it!
M: Thank you for your kind words :)
Gaskellian: thanks for sticking with me for so long, 50 is really no mean feat but I'm not even close to done yet! Stay tuned for more, love to read your thoughts xx
Jansfamily4: It really was emotional, wasn't it? Too much for me, but we're diving right back into the angst in the next chapter so the little bit of fluff in this one should be enjoyable - while it lasts!
Motherof8: There will be many confrontations, but I need to space them out or all the juicy stuff will be over before the story fully ends!
MissThang22700: Thank you so much! So glad you like her. Yes, she is quite strong, she has to be, but it's nice to know she has someone who can take care of her when she needs it!
Deanna27: Oh, you do understand their relationship beautifully! I always look forward to your interpretation - they really are amazing, aren't they? (BUT angst is coming, so enjoy it while you can!)
Wonderful reviews as always, you guys know how much I appreciate you :) just to put it out there, I am in no way undermining suicide or the seriousness of such an outcome / the situations that lead to it... it was always my intention from the beginning for the story to take this turn, and if you read the chapters in which Diana and Mina fight you can tell quite clearly that her father's death had a story behind it. This was the best way for me to represent that, so if I have upset someone I apologize and please know it wasn't my intention to do any such thing.
All in all, I feel like this was a half-way successful chapter. Not as happy with it as I'd have liked to be, but I have essays due before the end of March so you all know what that means... more updates! Until next time, much love xxx
