"Perhaps you may like this book." Her husband offered her the latest volume he had procured from the shelves. The afternoon rain may have prevented the family from enjoying their planned excursion, but Pemberley's library kept each and every one of them occupied enough.
Elizabeth glanced at the cover of the book she'd been handed. She smiled before resting backwards against the chaise. "You approve of novels, sir?"
"Far be it from me to disparage an entire genre when I have enjoyed a select few of them myself." Fitzwilliam smiled back.
Behind the stern facade of Master of Pemberley, her husband had proven himself to be a different man. He enjoyed peace, but spoke often to her and Georgiana. He exercised kindness, but retained a firm hand whenever he believed he had identified mismanagement. He offered her every comfort, but he never imposed his own ideas of comfort upon her.
It may not have been a marriage of love.
But Elizabeth was learning, alarming quickly, over the past fortnight, that it could become a marriage of love, if they both were to wish it.
"Lizzy, what do you think of this piece?" Georgiana reached over the distance between their seats to show Elizabeth her latest musical endeavor.
"I am constantly impressed at your skill, Georgiana." Elizabeth smiled at her new sister - a sister very much worth having. "I could hardly play pieces half as challenging at your age."
"She takes after our mother," Fitzwilliam mentioned across the room. The pride in his voice rang true.
"And I'm afraid I took after mine," Elizabeth admitted.
Both Darcy siblings regarded her carefully, as if unsure how to respond. Then Elizabeth laughed, and they both chuckled as well.
"You don't play half as poorly as you claim to, Lizzy," Georgiana admonished as she folded her music back into her collection.
Elizabeth chuckled. "You are too kind. I am far from as accomplished of a lady as you, dear."
"One's skills on the pianoforte can hardly reflect true accomplishment," Fitzwilliam said as he walked towards the ladies with his newly chosen book. He smiled at them both before settling in his armchair. "A good character, I believe, reflects true accomplishment far more than any outward trappings or classical skills."
"You say that only to comfort me," Elizabeth replied, head inclined and lips smiling. "I fear the rumors may be true, Fitzwilliam. You have indeed married a country nobody."
"Perhaps those who spread such unkind rumors are simply unaware that I am a man of simple country tastes myself." Her husband grinned slightly as he leaned back against the embroidered fabric of his seat. "It is you, Elizabeth, who have been tied to a country bumpkin."
Georgiana chuckled, and Elizabeth smiled as well.
But perhaps what she noticed more was the way her husband looked at her then - his serene smile and gentle eyes appearing almost exactly as they did when he'd first shown her the part of the garden she would be free to redesign - or when he'd taken them on that thrilling curricle ride three days ago.
Far away from the heartaches of Hertfordshire, Elizabeth rejoiced in her newfound happiness.
"Mr. Darcy, shall you have tea?" A servant girl - the willowy one with golden hair - appeared at the entrance of the library. Elizabeth frowned. She never liked this one.
"Thank you, Mary," the master acknowledged. The servant glided happily towards him before setting the tray upon the table right before Elizabeth's husband. They all watched as the tea was poured. "Ah, perhaps you ought to bring cups for the ladies as well?"
"Oh, of course, sir," Mary apologized all while glancing at her master with fanciful eyes. Elizabeth confirmed all the more her dislike for this girl.
"Thank you." Fitzwilliam smiled politely, and Mary retreated - only to take another half hour before reappearing with the promised cups.
All three masters were fully occupied with their respective volumes by then, and Elizabeth was almost selfishly delighted at Mary's apparent disappointment when the only thanks she received from Fitzwilliam was a curt nod.
It was silly to be unhappy with a young servant girl. Her husband never did show Mary any particular favor.
But perhaps, Elizabeth mulled, as her eyes traced the lines of her novel - she would feel slightly better if her husband were to show a little more favor towards her than he so politely did towards everyone else.
"Why, that story is most fascinating, Mr. Robald," Elizabeth remarked after Sir Gerald and his wife had finished relating the tale of their nephew's recent adventure. Elizabeth smiled at the nephew. "We must be privileged to have such a gifted horseman among us. Is that not so, Georgiana?"
The youngest member of the Darcy family smiled shyly. Elizabeth encouraged it with a smile of her own.
"Yes, Elizabeth," Georgiana replied, and the chatter continued.
It was hardly their first dinner party since their marriage, as Fitzwilliam had so wisely began to introduce her to the neighbors in increments. He had claimed a week after their arrival that he no longer had an excuse not to entertain now that there was a true mistress of Pemberley, and Elizabeth, keen to learn the ropes to her new role, had quickly acceded to the need for more interaction with their neighboring estates.
They had their first gathering, a simple night of cards, a month after their marriage. With its success, the events continued. This dinner party, with the friendly Sir Gerald, the kindly Lady Fitzhugh, and their jovial nephew, was their third such undertaking.
"Our Thomas is talented in a vast range of things," Lady Fitzhugh soon spoke of her favorite person once more. Elizabeth smiled. It was natural for childless aunts to be taken with their nephews and nieces. And Mr. Robald, while of average height and appearances, did strike a good impression in polite company with his easy demeanor. The way the young man's eyes had lit up at the sight of Georgiana had not escaped her, and Elizabeth was determined to facilitate a friendship between the two.
"Georgiana boasts of a vast array of her own talents as well," Elizabeth replied. "Perhaps she can tell Mr. Robald of her latest piece."
"Lizzy," Georgiana said - chided, almost. In the midst of her own newfound ease, Elizabeth had almost forgotten of Georgiana's hesitations when surrounded by strangers.
"Or perhaps we ought to speak of something else?" The master of Pemberley, Elizabeth's own husband, declared from the head of the table.
He was frowning, somewhat.
Why - Elizabeth did not know.
"Perhaps Mr. Robald can share a story of his latest adventure with us?" Elizabeth turned once more to the young man, eager to encourage him.
"Oh, Thomas, you must tell us the story of the hidden cat!" Lady Fitzhugh exclaimed.
Her nephew chuckled slightly before obliging.
It was an ordinary story, by all counts. The mystery of the movement in the trunk was, inevitably, revealed to be a stowaway kitten. Mr. Robald related the tale with as much gusto as he could manage, and Elizabeth looked often at Georgiana to note if the young girl listened.
Far be it from Elizabeth to play matchmaker for two people she hardly knew.
She did, however, believe quite firmly than broader friendships would do Georgiana much good.
Dinner evolved soon to some separation, then some time in the music room, before leading to the Fitzhughs' departure. Compliments and goodbyes were shared all around, and Elizabeth found herself feeling rather comfortable as a successful hostess.
She hoped her husband approved of her growth.
"I shall see you on the morrow," Georgiana bid her family goodnight with a pretty little curtsy. Elizabeth parted pleasantly with both her and her brother, eager to relish the evening's success on her own.
She was, in fact, halfway through her evening routines, hair down and head held high at the thoughts of her various recent accomplishments, when the door between hers and her husband's room swung violently open.
"Fitzwilliam?" She regarded him, surprised.
He was undressed, but not fully - his shirtsleeves providing a thin layer over his frame.
"Excuse us, Alice," the master growled. Elizabeth's maid dropped her brush and quickly obeyed.
"Fitzwilliam, is something wrong?" Elizabeth queried. She had not seen her husband in her chambers since the first day he had toured her around - and she most definitely had never beheld him so barely dressed.
But those were things to fret over another time.
"Are you angry?" She asked, stepping slowly towards him.
She had played her part tonight with consummate grace. She had not even glared at Mary when she served her master with a flutter of her eyes. She had thought only of Georgiana and the family's welfare.
What complaint could he possibly have?
"What do you think you were doing tonight, Mrs. Darcy?" Her husband leveled at her, when she stood a mere yard away at last. His eyes reflected a stormy rage she had never seen on him before.
"What do you mean?"
"Do not think me a fool just because I have strived to act in every way a gentleman." He pulled himself taller, frankly hovering over her.
"Fitzwilliam - "
"I witnessed it all, Elizabeth, and I shall not condone such actions from my wife!"
Elizabeth blinked, shocked yet confused by her husband's temper. She frowned. "What do you even mean?"
"Your flirtations and advances - your shameless flattering of Mr. Robald." Fitzwilliam closed his eyes and seethed. "Do not befit your station."
"Mr. Robald?" Elizabeth's frown intensified. "What have I - what could possibly - "
"You praised the man at every turn, looking unceasingly towards him the entire evening. I have respected our boundaries, Elizabeth, but I cannot tolerate such blatant disregard for my position! No man can."
"And what have I done to earn such censure?" Elizabeth retorted. "Every word I said, every act I did - I did within means of propriety."
"Propriety!" Her husband scoffed. "Only a fool would consider such grappling as proper."
"Grappling!"
"You encouraged him constantly, fawning over every word uttered by him or about him."
"I did not such thing!"
"Even the servants took note." Fitzwilliam glared at her, heat emanating from his entire frame. "The looks they sported whenever you sought, yet again, to court Mr. Robald's attentions were hardly subtle."
"The servants? You care for their opinion over mine?" Elizabeth cried. She sniffed as she looked askance. Her arms crossed themselves of their own accord. "No wonder the young maids only have eyes for you."
Fitzwilliam paused. "I beg your pardon?"
"Are you so blind as to notice only perceived offenses against yourself - and not to others?"
"I - "
"The way Mary eyes you - the way Hannah blushes in your presence - not a bit of all that is proper, I dare say!"
"You divert me unnecessarily."
"You accuse me of encouraging another man's attentions when you yourself flaunt women's fawning in my face."
"I flaunt nothing!"
"You treat me with civility, politeness, and calm. Is it so frightful to you that anyone should ever try to treat me just as kindly?"
"It was more than mere kindness!"
"It most certainly was only that!"
"Can you deny that you praised every word out of that young man's mouth? Can you swear that you had not striven to focus the entire evening on him?"
"For Georgiana!" Elizabeth shouted. She swiped away at stray angry tears. "I sought only to encourage a friendship between her and our neighbors."
"Likely story."
"As likely as your negligence of the constant female attentions sent your way in this house!"
They fell silent, each seething on his own in the midst of her vast, cold room. The fireplace burnt low, their laden breaths thickening in the night air.
"I am not myself." Fitzwilliam said first. He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling his locks further.
"Perhaps not," Elizabeth quipped.
They traded gazes hesitantly, as if each willing to make amends if the other were to ask first.
Neither did.
"I came merely to express my opinions - as a master and husband. I fear I lost control of myself as I did so."
Elizabeth sniffed.
"But it is my wish, Elizabeth," Fitzwilliam continued, "that you understand why it matters - why appearances, however shallow, must be kept for the sake of Pemberley's future. I cannot and do not wish to demand more of you. But I ask, sincerely, that you taken into account how our actions may be interpreted in the light of society's pervasive gaze."
He bowed deep before stating, "I bid you goodnight."
He turned to go - and had reached the door when she spoke.
"For the sake of appearances?" Elizabeth disliked how her voice quaked.
Her husband turned. "If only for that."
Elizabeth breathed deep before sighing. "For that is all I am to you?"
He frowned. "I do not understand."
Elizabeth tilted her chin forward, a desperate attempt at pride buying her temporary bravado. "I understand that my actions tonight, if examined in a different light, may prove inconsistent with my station."
She watched her husband turn more fully.
"But," she continued, resting only to breath, "I find no respite in your reasons - no comfort in knowing that you invest yourself only in a sham of a marriage."
"A sham?" he echoed.
Elizabeth sniffed and straightened. "You treat me well - with every act of goodness and generosity. But are we to live so dispassionately for the rest of our lives? Am I nothing more than an act of charity - a prop to display beside you?"
He began to walk closer. His gaze remained firm, though less tinted with anger.
"Elizabeth, what are you even asking?"
"I ask, sir," she swallowed and said, "do you even care for who I am?"
He surprised her by grasping her shoulders. The fire in his eyes ignited in an entirely different way.
His voice emerged like a growl, "I care for nothing and no one more."
A/N: SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER! Please give me one week. And for those who are curious, the original Chinese drama/novel was called Yi Lian You Meng. While there is a more recent version, I am a bigger fan of the version from twenty years ago :)