Chapter 5

The beginning of the third week of the house party arrived, and the Landsdownes had planned an outing to pick berries on their land. It was black raspberry season, and everyone agreed that it would be lovely to have some fruit pies to enjoy over the next few days. Some of the more fastidious guests, such as Viscount Carlisle and Mrs. Godfrey, decided against going to stain their fingers purple, and Elizabeth was glad to be free of her husband's company for the afternoon, although he had been ignoring her for most of the house party, to her relief.

Mr. Darcy found his way to her side as they were walking out to the raspberry patch and quickly started a conversation with her. She looked with amusement to see Miss Bingley glaring at her. She had apparently tried to approach Darcy when he moved to Elizabeth's side.

"I have just finished the volume of Wordsworth you lent me, Lady Carlisle. I have to admit I enjoyed it very much."

"I am glad to hear you say so. I admit I most enjoyed his symbolism on the movement of water."

As they discussed the work, they moved toward a clump of bushes heavily laden with berries. Elizabeth took off her white gloves, and could only hope her overly-elegant light green dress did not get stained purple, or at least that Sarah would be able to get the stains out before Vincent saw them. She did not want to spend any more days isolated in her room waiting for bruises to heal.

Mrs. Landsdowne had given each of her guests a basket in which to collect their berries, and Elizabeth found after a happy hour of conversation had passed that her basket was nearly full. She noticed the Landsdowne children, a boy of five and a girl of three, had come on the excursion, and she was happy to see them enjoying themselves so much. A pang centered in her middle. She had always loved children, but had thought that she would be a maiden aunt to Jane's children, and teach them to play the pianoforte very ill. She still wanted children, but was terribly afraid what would become of them with Vincent as a father. She was sure he would come back to her bed at some point in the future, if only to produce an heir. She was dreading it. At the same time, she was torn. She wanted a child to love, but was terrified that she would not be able to protect her children from their father. If he treated his wife with such cruelty, what would stop him from treating his children the same way? They would be even more helpless than she.

As she was mired in these dark thoughts, some light came through as she saw Mr. Darcy leaning down to speak to the boy.

"What's that? You don't have enough berries?" Mr. Darcy asked the distraught Thomas.

"I wanted to fill my basket, as you have, sir. But I cannot reach as high as you can."

"Well, as you can see, I am a great tall fellow. Perhaps I can help you."

With that, he lifted the boy up and set him on his shoulders, so that Thomas could reach the berries at the top of the bush. The boy giggled with glee and set to gathering his berries with a vengeance. Darcy did not seem to mind that some black raspberries fell in his hair, or on his waistcoat. In fact, he helped Thomas gather more.

Elizabeth's heart filled with a warmth she did not recognize. Mr. Darcy would be a wonderful father. Why could Vincent not have been like that? She suddenly felt very envious of whoever Mr. Darcy would eventually marry. She would have to be an extraordinary lady to deserve him.

She turned away as tears stung her eyes. She suddenly realized that her feelings for Mr. Darcy had run deeper than she had recognized before. She had thought that he was a good friend, but she had never been in love before. She did not know what the sensation felt like. She was very afraid that she might be falling in love with Mr. Darcy. Such a feeling was emotional suicide, and one which she must avoid at all costs.

She looked down to see little three-year-old Rose at her side. She looked distressed.

"What is wrong, my dear?" Elizabeth asked, blinking quickly to clear the tears from her eyes.

"I don't have as many berries as Thomas!" the girl wailed.

"Well, isn't that something! I have too many! Perhaps we can share," said Elizabeth, as she moved about half the berries in her basket into Rose's. "Now you two shall be even. It will be our little secret."

This cheered the little girl immensely, and, giggling, she went to show her brother her stash. Thomas was still on Mr. Darcy's shoulders, and the two were discussing Thomas's new pony with all seriousness. Elizabeth felt that unexpected squeezing around her heart again.

Darcy was paying more attention to Elizabeth than she knew. He had seen her confer with the little girl, and his heart had expanded with something he had never felt before. He wondered if it could be love. He had never been in love before. He had admitted to himself early on that he found Lady Carlisle physically attractive. He had tried not to notice, since she was a married woman; but the longer he spent in her company, the more attractive he found her, and not just physically. Her witty and vivacious personality greatly appealed to one as shy and withdrawn as he. She was also kind, never speaking a rude word about anyone, despite provocation from Miss Bingley or her own husband.

The more his feelings deepened, the more dangerous the situation seemed. There was no future for him with Lady Carlisle; she already had a husband. If she had been single and free, he did not doubt that he would have allowed himself to fall fully in love with her, to try to win her love in return. But that could never be. No matter how unlikeable Lord Carlisle was, he was still her husband. She was bound to him until one of them died; and the viscount was a young, fit man of only thirty.

Darcy resolved to restrain his feelings and merely be Lady Carlisle's friend. There were about two weeks of the house party left. After that he would travel to Pemberley with Georgiana, and see the lady only on occasion in town. He would keep his heart safe. He wondered if Lady Carlisle's heart was safe. Did she love him in return? That would be a disaster.

After the berries had all been picked, and the guests returned to the house, Elizabeth was distraught to find that her dress had indeed been stained with juice, and that the hems of her gown were dirty. She hurried to her room before Vincent could see her – she did not know where he was – and rang for Sarah. The maid appeared soon after and at once saw what the problem was.

"Not to worry, my lady, I will have the stains out soon and he will be none the wiser," she said.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief as she allowed Sarah to help her dress for dinner. She hated the clothes Vincent made her wear, but had long ago learned it was not worth the fight.

That evening after supper the guests were served black raspberry tarts for dessert. She was sitting across from Darcy and could not keep from giving him a playful grin. "Our toil has resulted in the most exquisite outcome for us."

Darcy gave her a small smile back. "Yes. And Thomas got as many berries as he wished, so it was all worth it."

Elizabeth had not lost her awareness of Mr. Darcy through the evening. After the separation of the sexes, when everyone proceeded to the music room for some entertainment, she sat next to him to listen. She stole glances at him whenever she thought he was not looking. He really was a remarkably handsome man; perhaps the most handsome man she had ever seen.

People had always said that Vincent was handsome; but his golden looks had never appealed to her, and after they were married she grew to hate the sight of those fine aristocratic features.

Mr. Darcy, however, was different. She had noticed, in an objective way, that he was handsome the first time she had seen him. But, being a married woman, she had not focused on him as a point of attraction. Now that she knew him better, she thought him the most handsome man in the world. Sadness filled her heart once again. She felt she should try to soak up as much friendship as she could with him before the house party ended and they returned to Campton Manor. He would never be hers, and that was something she must simply accept.

Across the room, Vincent was sitting close to Mrs. Godfrey, whispering in her ear in an inappropriately intimate fashion. She was not like her husband. She could not simply throw aside her marriage vows, as little as she had wished to make them. And even if she could, she knew instinctively that Mr. Darcy was a man of such integrity that he would never have an affair with a married woman. She had to resign herself to the misery of her marriage, and being alone for the rest of her life without love. Her hopes that Vincent would allow her to see Jane and the Gardiners when they went back to London in the winter were fading. He had grown more aggressive in his denials each time she asked, until he had forbidden her from ever asking again. She was afraid he might revoke her right to write to them, and those letters were the only thing that had kept her sane through the first six months of marriage, at least until she had met Mr. Darcy.

She determinedly turned her mind from him again. He was her friend. That was all he was and all he could ever be.

When Lady Carlisle rose to take to the pianoforte, Darcy enjoyed her performance, as he always did. It was perhaps not the most technically proficient, but she played with more feeling than anyone he had ever heard before. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Lord Carlisle was completely ignoring his wife's performance, instead sitting inappropriately close to Mrs. Godfrey, with whom he was sure everyone knew he was having an affair. He wondered how Elizabeth could deal with the humiliation of such a thing.

Darcy himself had always been disgusted with men and women who broke their marriage vows; but even he could admit that Carlisle could at least make an effort at being discreet. He seemed to have no care that his wife would be hurt and/or mortified by his behaviour.

The more Darcy got to know Lord Carlisle, the more he despised him. How he had won over a woman such as Elizabeth was a mystery to him: Carlisle did not deserve her in any way. He came back to his original theory that Elizabeth had married him to rescue her mother and sisters from penury when her father died. But the cost seemed too high. Had Elizabeth realized that after the wedding? He did not see how she could be happy with such a man. She never showed outward signs of distress at his behaviour, but he knew she must feel it. If only Darcy had met her first!

He was surprised at the thought, and realized that his feelings for her must have deepened further than he realized. He tried to dismiss the thought from his mind. The fact was, he had not met her first. He had a greater income than Carlisle, even if he was not of the peerage. Elizabeth could have had security for her family, as well as a kind and loving husband. He would not have criticized her in front of a whole group of guests, merely for having an intelligent mind. He would not flaunt affairs right under her nose

He did not think less of her for having married for her family – it was a very distressing situation the ladies were in – but he thought that she probably regretted it now. He could understand how Carlisle could have fallen in love with Elizabeth and offered for her; what he could not comprehend was how he was treating her now. Although she was a gentleman's daughter, her lack of dowry and poor connections made her an unlikely candidate for a peer's bride. Carlisle could only have married her for love. Had he fallen out of love? But they had only been married six months. And a woman like Elizabeth was one that any worthy man would cherish all his life. The whole thing was incomprehensible to him.

But none of these ruminations made any difference to the fact that she was married. She would never be his, no matter how much he wished it; and he would have to resign himself to that. Perhaps someday he would find a lady whom he could love and marry.