Chapter 3

Warning: There is an instance of domestic abuse near the end of this chapter.

Darcy thoroughly enjoyed his walk with Lady Carlisle. She was very different from his first impression the night before. Despite her extravagant attire, she had clearly not married the viscount for his money. She was intelligent and witty, and he found himself laughing frequently in her company. There was some mystery behind why she had married such a man, but he could only suppose it was to give her sisters and mother security. If so, he could only commend her while he pitied her. The tone of her voice as she had mentioned marrying for happiness had made his heart twist.

She was also an educated woman; she had much knowledge of literature and history, as he had found over breakfast. Yet she had had little formal education. She must have learned it all on her own recognizance. He admired such a thing, in any person, but especially a woman, who would not have all the opportunities for education that a man would have. When he asked her where she had learned all this, she replied that her father had taught her.

"He often brought me into his library to read and study," she said. "I was the son he never had, I suppose you could say. He taught me about estate management as well as Homer in the original Greek."

"It is a shame you could not inherit the estate from your father," Darcy mused. He knew that he was fortunate; if he died without an heir, Georgiana's son could inherit.

"And you, sir? Do you have any family?" asked Lady Carlisle, and Darcy had the idea that she was moving the topic away from her father, though he could not fathom why.

"Yes, I have a sister, Georgiana, more than ten years my junior," he replied.

"Is your mother still alive?"

Darcy shook his head. "No. She passed away from scarlet fever when I was seventeen."

"I am very sorry," she said, and he heard the sincerity in her voice.

"Thank you," he said. "She was a loving presence in my life, but I miss more my father. He passed away when I was only two and twenty. I could have benefitted from his experience. He died unexpectedly of an apoplexy."

"Has it been difficult, running the estate on your own since then?" she asked.

He admired her mode of thought. Most women would have flattered him for taking on Pemberly so young. Unmarried women wanted to marry him, and married women wanted to seduce him. He had grown tired of the women of the ton, and Lady Carlisle was like a breath of fresh air. "It has been, but my father taught me all he could before he died, and I had an ample helper in my uncle."

He told her about Pemberley as they walked through the rose garden. It was a beautiful place, and Darcy thought he would not mind spending every morning of the house party in such a manner. At least it would keep the unmarried ladies away.

After about an hour they returned inside. More of the house had risen by now, although Darcy supposed Miss Bingley had made an effort to be up early in order to catch him at breakfast. He hoped she did not make a habit of it. When Lady Carlisle evidently observed him peering around the drawing room before he entered it, she smothered a laugh. "Miss Bingley is not here, Mr. Darcy," she said.

He gave her a smile. "It is not only Miss Bingley I wish to avoid."

"Well, if you ever need an excuse to absent yourself for any reason, you may call upon me," she offered generously.

"That is very kind of you, Lady Carlisle. I shall have to take you up on that."

Over the next week, the men spent most of the afternoons engaged in sport while the ladies stayed indoors, reading, attending to correspondence, or doing needlework. Elizabeth found herself often in the company of Mrs. Landsdowne. Her hostess was only a few years older than she, and a very genial woman. She and Mr. Landsdowne had two young children, and the mother delighted in talking proudly about her offspring. Elizabeth thought it was wonderful that she clearly loved her children so much. She was also jealous as she heard Mrs. Landsdowne speak of her husband with obvious affection. Elizabeth had always wanted a marriage of love and respect, and now she would never have either. Eventually, Mrs. Landsdowne felt comfortable enough with Elizabeth to ask her to call her Rosamond, and Elizabeth replied with a request that she be called by her first name also. She felt that she had made a friend, and one that perhaps her husband would allow her to keep after the house party.

She spent time with Mr. Darcy almost every day, it seemed. He was always looking for an escape from marriage-minded ladies, and Elizabeth was happy to give him an excuse. She fancied that he enjoyed her conversation too, and was not simply using her to get away from irksome company. They took to taking walks in the gardens or toward the orchard. She learned more about him, and found much to admire.

At the beginning of the second week, the Landsdownes ordered many carriages to take their guests to Hailes Abbey, which was only about an hour away. Elizabeth had heard about this outing and had read about the abbey before their journey, wanting to know all the history of it before she saw it.

Fortunately, most of the men rode alongside the carriages, so that Elizabeth did not have to be in the company of her husband. Instead, she rode with Mrs. Landsdowne and two other ladies who lived in the area, and they passed the time in pleasant conversation.

When they reached the abbey, Mr. Landsdowne came over to hand his wife and the other ladies down from the carriage. While the other ladies' husbands offered their arms, Elizabeth saw that Vincent was once again ignoring her, instead flirting with Mrs. Godfrey, who was a young widow. Elizabeth could not say she was displeased. She would much prefer Mr. Darcy's company. And she did, indeed, see that gentleman coming toward her with a smile in his face. "May I escort you, Lady Carlisle?" he asked, offering his arm.

"Thank you, sir," she replied, laying her hand on his arm. Several of the young women that had gathered about him looked disappointed, and Elizabeth hid her amusement. "I am eager to see the abbey. I have been doing some reading about it and found its history fascinating."

"I would like to hear what you have learned," Darcy said with a smile.

They walked a little further until they could see the ruins. At first Elizabeth was a bit disappointed because there seemed to be so little left of the actual edifice. It apparently had been very large at one time, but all that was left were the foundation stones and some ivy-covered arches. Then, as she approached further, she could see the stones closer, and marvelled at the detail that still remained etched on them from their first making.

"This abbey was established by Richard, Earl of Cornwall in the 13th century," she said. "It is told that he almost died in a shipwreck and that once he reached land, he had the abbey built in thanks to God for sparing his life. Henry III, who was his older brother, granted him the land, and Cistercian monks settled there. The abbey did not become popular, however, until they claimed that they had obtained a vial of Holy Blood in 1270. Then many people made pilgrimages to the site to see the so-called relic."

"I suppose it was destroyed by Henry VIII?" Darcy queried.

Elizabeth had not noticed until then how many people had gathered about to listen to her, but she gladly enlightened them. "Indeed. In the Reformation in 1538, the abbey fell victim to Henry VIII. It was when –"

"Yes, yes, very interesting, my dear. But perhaps you should leave the book learning to the men, wouldn't you say?" Vincent's tight voice broke through Elizabeth's words and she looked over to see her husband, appearing very annoyed with her. He had come to her side and was glaring at her. His hand wrapped around her wrist with brutal strength so that she almost thought the bone would snap. "No one likes a blue-stocking after all."

Elizabeth felt humiliated to be thus chastised in front of all of the other guests, but she would not make a scene. Besides, she knew only too well the result of answering his anger with her own. "Of course, sir," she said meekly instead, and backed away, forcing him to let go of his vicious grip. She knew she would have bruises there later.

The other guests looked uncomfortable, although Elizabeth saw out of the corner of her eye that Miss Bingley was smirking. Elizabeth resolved to act as though she were not bothered, and wandered toward the arches to look more closely at the panel work. But the outing was quite spoiled. Vincent always managed to ruin anything she was finding pleasure in. When their hosts brought forth picnic baskets for luncheon, she sat to eat with little appetite. But then Mr. Darcy sat down beside her, and she forced herself to smile at him.

"I enjoyed hearing about the history of the abbey, Lady Carlisle," he said. "I would have liked to hear even more about it; but unfortunately, those without intelligence often cannot see intelligence in those who have it."

Elizabeth felt a little better, knowing that Mr. Darcy understood her and sympathized, although she was still mortified that he should have felt obliged to give her his assurances.

"Will you tell me what happened to the Holy Blood after Henry VIII took the abbey?"

Elizabeth looked around quickly, but seeing Vincent several blankets away flirting with Mrs. Godfrey, felt she could answer. "It was found that the so called 'Holy Blood' was only honey coloured with saffron. It had all been a hoax, you see."

Darcy looked over her shoulder at her husband. "Yes, I do see," he said, and she wondered how much he actually did see.

That evening, while Sarah was helping Elizabeth prepare for bed, Vincent came through the connecting door of their chambers without a knock. He never knocked, and so she never knew when her privacy might be invaded. At least she knew he had not come to lie with her; in fact, he was probably headed to Mrs. Godfrey's bed as soon as the house went to sleep.

"Leave us," said Vincent curtly, dismissing Elizabeth's maid. Sarah gave her mistress a concerned look, but did not dare refuse. Elizabeth would have been angry at his high-handedness, but she had become so used to it that she no longer complained. It was not worth it.

"What is it, Vincent? I am tired and wish to retire," she said, not hiding her annoyance.

Vincent's face was tight with anger. "Were you trying to make me look stupid this afternoon, Elizabeth?"

"I beg your pardon?" she asked in real surprise.

"Don't act innocent. You know very well that is it unseemly for a gentlewoman to have such knowledge of history. I can only assume you meant to embarrass me and make me look stupid."

"That is not hard to do," Elizabeth retorted. "I need not even try."

She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. She had always had a quick temper, and it had not served her well in her marriage. She knew the blow was coming before he had even lifted his arm, but then her head had snapped back and she fell onto the floor as her struck her on the right side of the face.

"Stupid, am I?" he said icily. "Stupid, indeed, to marry a hoyden blue-stocking like you! How I wish I had not fallen for your seductions in Hertfordshire! I would be free of you now. I warn, you, Elizabeth – watch your tongue when we are in company, or I will send you back to Campton Manor with so many broken bones that you will never walk again."

Elizabeth did not dare get up again until she heard his footsteps recede and then the shutting of his door. Then she sat up carefully, her face screaming with pain. She was still wearing her ornate dress, and rang for Sarah.

Apparently Sarah had been waiting for the summons, for she entered the chamber almost immediately. "Oh, Mistress, I am so sorry," she said with compassion on her face. "Let me get some cold cloths for your poor face."

"Get me out of this horrid dress first, Sarah," Elizabeth requested. "I cannot stand it."

"Yes, my lady."

Once Elizabeth was in her plain cotton nightgown, Sarah left to get some cold cloths and Elizabeth pondered again the misery she was caught in for the rest of her life. She knew her face would bruise, and she would be forced to stay in her rooms until the dark colours faded enough that she could cover them with powder. Resentment for her husband stirred up inside her, hot and fierce. She hated him. He was a monster and a brute and she heartily wished him dead.