The drive north was proving itself pleasant enough, the dry roads dry and clear skies making for as smooth a ride as could be hoped for, the changing views from the carriage window entertainment enough to fill the silences that lingered between them. Not that they were in any way awkward, but the morning had required a good deal of them both and it was with shared relief they could sit comfortably and spend a little time conversing only with their innermost thoughts. For herself, Elizabeth was beginning to wonder whether it would serve that the final act of union must be tonight. Would she truly be any the less married if they were united at their leisure, the pressure of the moment removed from their thoughts? As field after field shifted past them, she let her mind explore what it was that was nagging at her, that was preventing her from knowing her own mind on this and many other topics besides. She acknowledged that she seemed to be lurching from nerves 'in extremis' to palpitations of excitement, and then back again, without being any further to the truth of it all. It was, she silently conceded, not a little overwhelming.
"I thought that Mrs Collins was looking well," Darcy remarked, the suddenness of his words bringing her round from her musings.
"Indeed," Elizabeth said, nodding her agreement. "Perhaps being with child suits her," she speculated and then, seeking to explain her knowledge of such intimacies, added, "Her mother never was one for secrets."
"Ah," he responded assuredly, "In which case it is best we are away from the prying eyes of Meryton this evening."
"Was there any danger of that, Sir?" her tone all teasing, "Your wishing to remain any longer so close to my childhood home?"
He smirked. "Perhaps not. But there was more than one comment, I'm sure of it, as to the indulgent act of my whisking you away so promptly after the Breakfast. However," he postered, "I am known to be selfish and what would be the advantage of allowing oneself to be seen in such a light if one didn't then indulge in it once in a while for one's own gain?"
"Your wife thanks you, dear Sir, for this selfless act," Elizabeth replied, her smile decidedly demure. "For I could not take another moment of the exaggerated fawning or deliberate disregard expressed by our relations."
This elicited a deep chuckle of agreement from him, one that she'd only discovered with delight in the last two weeks of their engagement. She hoped to hear it often although suspected the tenacity that she'd be required to demonstrate in order to bring it forth would also know intimacy with her tendency towards cheek and scorn. And she knew she'd not yet had time to study how each of these would be regarded.
They slipped into an easy silence once more, the miles covered ever increasing as the minutes and the hours rolled by. It again gave her too much time to return to her previous thoughts and worries but with little else to occupy her, she gave way to both. That dear Charlotte was expecting had been fortuitous. She and Jane had managed to sneak just quarter of an hour with her to plead and beg for details as to what they could expect on their respective wedding nights. The briefest of descriptions by their mama had left more questions to be pondered than it had provided answers for. And it seemed that Charlotte had little additional information that she wished to share, speaking only to confirm the mechanics of it all. The only nugget they'd been able to entice from her was that there was a small chance at joy during the process but, she warned, it seldom occurred and when it did was fleeting. Dismayed, the sisters had almost been tempted into speaking with Lydia but they'd shuddered at the notion and instead had agreed it was best they discovered this mystery for themselves, choosing to trust in their new husbands. But, as the pace of the carriage appeared to slow, Elizabeth concluded that now that seemed a woefully naive and inadequate plan.
"Are we arriving?" she asked, leaning over to peer out of the window.
"Yes, my dear," Darcy confirmed. "I didn't wish for us to exhaust ourselves by travelling all day and so we will break our journey here before continuing tomorrow."
The footman hopped down from the box seat above and held open the door, Mr Darcy going first, ducking his head as he exited. He turned back and reached out a hand and, as she took it, realised with a blush that it was only the second time they'd touched in this way, his bare fingers warmly grasping around her own. He released them all too soon in favour of her hand finding the crook of his arm, as was deemed proper for man and wife. She'd expected an inn of some kind but, as she looked up to take in the sight before her, she realised that this was some other kind of place entirely.
The grey white stone of the elegant mansion gleamed in the afternoon sun. The shallow steps that curved up to the front door were swept clean of the early autumn leaves, the door furniture polished so sufficiently that they sparkled as brightly as the plain band on her fourth finger. As he led up towards the door, she delighted as it opened as if by some unseen force and they stepped into a tiled entrance hall, its cool air providing welcome relief after the relative stuffiness of the carriage. They were met by a man of small stature, who bowed deeply before speaking.
"Mr Darcy, it is an honour to welcome you to Jackson Lodge once more," a nod of greeting from her husband enabling him to continue. "All the arrangements have been as per your instructions. I trust you remember where to find all that you require, but should you or Mrs Darcy wish for anything then do be sure to ring."
Darcy moved to thank him, a few quiet words exchanged between the two men before the shorter of the two bobbed his head towards Elizabeth and took three steps back before turning to remove himself from their company.
"You mustn't mind Hobson," Darcy said, offering his arm to his wife once more," His manners are somewhat strange but he's a good fellow. Reliable and, above all, discreet."
Elizabeth fought the vicious temptation to ask as to what acts his discretion would be required for, but decided it would be best not to risk discovering that particular truth. She was not yet convinced of her embarrassment at hearing it wouldn't cause her to disappear under the floor! Instead, she allowed Darcy to usher her across the hall and into an elegant room, which was well proportioned with a majestic view over a formal rose garden. A few late blooms could be seen hanging heavily on their stems but it was the newly clipped yew trees that gave it its appeal. The perfect height, Elizabeth imagined, to ghost a palm over as you wandered the cream pebble paths.
To one side of the room was a dining table laid for two, a centrepiece of exotic fruits adding a burst of colour to the crisp white linen and glistening silver cutlery. Darcy moved to pull back one of the ornate dining chairs, waiting until she was seated before taking his own. She wondered at this, his adopting the role of servant, but as they seemed quite alone she supposed he had little choice.
"What is this place, Fitzwilliam?" she enquired. "It seems half way between a house and a private sort of an inn."
He chuckled, "Your intuition serves you well. It belongs to an old friend of mine. He rarely uses it other than for the occasional rest between London and his Yorkshire. He keeps a minimal staff on hand for anyone who may wish to borrow it for a night."
He reached over and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I didn't fancy sharing you with others this evening, even if it was only through the thickest of stone walls."
She rewarded his kind words with a smile. She could feel her nerves bubbling under her skin but she forced them yet again to behave. This was her wedding night, she'd not get another. Instead, she distracted herself by asking of their onward journey and as she listened to him speak, his voice soothing and melodic, she felt her calm return. She knew of the route of which he spoke, it being the same as that she'd taken with her aunt and uncle not a few months before, but despite this she found herself swept along with his descriptions of the select places they'd stop to rest.
"I did wonder about a slight detour to Blenheim," his confessional tone hinting that it was indeed a consideration he'd gone back and forth on, "But I am now quite resolved to maximise our time in the Lakes."
"I agree," Elizabeth offered boldly, "Besides we will pass through Oxfordshire before the year is out so perhaps then would be a more opportune moment." She paused as she loaded her fork, the sauce proving too delicious not to let the potato soak up a little more before she'd lift to her lips, "Are you acquainted with the family?"
He didn't reply. If he'd heard her enquiry at all it was quite incidental to that on which he mind was taken up. The day had been but a dream, but one punctuated with frustration. He'd gloried in the delights of her shy smile as she'd entered the church and then the dark sparkle in her eyes that hadn't left his as she'd walked down the aisle, only for it to be interrupted by the booming call to worship of the vicar. And then the perfect moment shared outside the church, her delicate fingers holding his own all too briefly before well wishers had descended with their handshakes of congratulations. And throughout the afternoon, he'd had just glimpses of his bride and the charm and elegance with which she entertained their wedding guests, his head turning at the sound of her infectious laugh floated back towards him, only to be then whisked away to meet a distant relative with whom he was forced to speak with uncomfortable congeniality. He sighed unconsciously in his reverie.
"Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth prompted, the sound that had escaped his lips having caused her to look up from her plate. She blanched at the intensity with which his eyes were settled upon her.
"You are quite beautiful, Elizabeth," he murmured, "Do you know that?"
She couldn't help but colour and notice how her stomach twisted quite violently. "I know that you believe it to be true," she managed, her fork suspended mid-air, "Whether others would agree, I cannot say."
He went to speak to, to set out his case that she was the most handsome woman of his acquaintance but he stopped. A shadow had flitted across her face for the briefest time, but he'd caught it, just barely. He brought a realisation that this was not, in fact, the first instance he'd seen it that day.
"What it is, Elizabeth?" he enquired calmly, "Something is making you uneasy, I am sure of it, although you hide it well." He dropped his voice to what he hoped was one of reassurance. "I will not have it so, my dear. Please, whatever it is, share your burden with me."
She squared her shoulders at his words, an act of defiance against the weakness of which she was accused. But it was in vain, as his eyes consumed her, the concern for happiness evident in them despite their darkness. He'd had such confidence in her and she'd been determined she could fool the world and indeed herself that it was not misplaced. But his stare challenged her resolve and, after what felt an interminable age, she now felt the first crumblings of her surrender.
Thank you for making this far into my first P&P fanfic. I am so grateful. I'd love to hear your thoughts on how much Lizzy will confess in the next chapter, for I am torn as to which way she should go.