Mr. Darcy's Proposal (16 page)

While she was coming to respect Darcy, the idea of ever feeling a deep love for him was so foreign that she could barely think of it. Elizabeth let out a long sigh. What madness had caused her to tie herself irrevocably to a man who was not much more than a stranger? What would they talk about on those long, cold nights in Derbyshire?

Finding no answers in the mirror, she wandered over to the window to look for the last time at the view of the garden and the fields beyond. She would miss this perspective. Perhaps there would be a window at Pemberley that she could claim as her own special view just as this one had been hers as she was growing up. As she stood before the window, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. It was the sound of a man’s boots, not the quiet padding of her sister’s slippers. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw it was Darcy.

“No one seemed to know where you had gone so I was concerned.”

At first, she bristled at how closely he was apparently watching her every move. Before sharp words came out, she got hold of herself and answered in an even voice. Sometimes, she found his solicitousness a bit unnerving.

“I was just looking out at my favorite view across the garden and the fields. It may not be the very best view from the house, but I feel somehow it belongs to me. I am going to miss it.”

Darcy walked over and stood behind her. He was so much taller that the top of her head just barely reached his chin. She could see the reflection of his face in the glass as he looked out over her head. When he placed his hands on her shoulders, she reacted involuntarily to the heat on her bare skin. Standing this close to him, she detected his now familiar fresh, spicy scent. Glancing up at their reflections in the windowpanes, she saw he was watching her face intently. Her next thought was how improper it was for them to be alone in her room. One corner of her mouth turned up in a half smile.

“You are smiling,” he said.

“A thought crossed my mind of how improper it would be for anyone to find us alone in this room together. Then I remembered we are married. I find that oddly amusing for some reason.”

“I like being alone with you,” he responded, gently touching one of her curls that had escaped from the pins and was trailing down her neck.

As they continued to stand together looking out, the dark clouds that had been rolling in across the fields finally gave up their burden, and large raindrops began to hit the window glass.

“A part of me wants today to be over while another part of me does not want it to end because it means that my father is really gone. It is much too final,” she confided. Then she relaxed and leaned back with a sigh. Darcy put his arms around her and held her closely against him. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the secure and solid feel of his body supporting her.

Darcy kissed her neck just below her ear as they stood in silence watching the ominous beauty of the storm. There were definitely times when Elizabeth appreciated that he was a man of few words. As more and more raindrops obscured the view out the window, it seemed a signal that it was time to go.

“I think we had best go down to our company,” she told him. “I would like to spend a little more time with Charlotte. It may very well be quite a long time before we have a chance to visit again.”

Elizabeth took his arm and as they walked out of the room together, she looked around one last time to say good-bye to a part of her life that was already fading into the past.

Nineteen

When Darcy returned to their suite that evening, he found Elizabeth slumped on the settee staring into the fire. Darcy sat down and held her hand lightly in his. When she turned to him, her eyes looked hollow and lost. “You look quite exhausted,” he said.

“These last few days even my bones feel tired,” she told him as she leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. He thrilled at this little affectionate gesture. Although he wanted desperately to kiss her, he contented himself with gently running his thumb across the back of her hand as he held it.

“Mama likes the house you and Mr. Bingley found in town. I overheard her talking about it to her friends as if it were actually a big improvement over Longbourn—less to take care of and worry about,” Elizabeth told him.

His heart melted even more as she looked up at him with her beautiful, sad eyes.

“Thank you. It has been a great relief to have someone else take care of it,” she added. She rested her head on his shoulder again. “I do not know how I would have managed these last few days without you,” she told him.

“I am happy to do anything that will be of help to you,” he said. Just knowing that she was beginning to let him take care of her even a little brought him great joy. Without thinking he began to massage her shoulder lightly. At first, she stiffened but did not move away. Finally, he could feel her beginning to relax.

“You are learning all of my weaknesses very quickly. How did you know I love to have my shoulders rubbed?” she asked.

He turned her so her back was to him and began to gently massage her neck and shoulders, which were full of knots. After a few minutes, she reached up and put her hand on his as it lay on her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

With that, he leaned over and kissed her hand. Next he kissed her lightly just below her ear. Noticing she had given a slight shudder, he asked, “Are you cold?”

She shook her head. When she turned around, he could see her eyes were filled with sadness. Darcy put his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Again, there was a moment when he thought she might run, but she stayed. In fact, she put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He inhaled deeply taking in the sweet scent of the lily of the valley perfume she often wore.

“My father used to hold me on his lap like this when I was a little girl. It always felt very comforting and safe,” she said.

Darcy was not sure exactly how to interpret her comment. His feelings for her were anything but fatherly. Perhaps what she most needed right now was a physical connection to a pleasant memory from the past. Maybe he should be grateful and just enjoy the feeling of having her against him. He wanted to tell her that she was safe, that she could trust him, but he did not know how to begin.

They stayed like that on the settee not talking, listening to the crackle of the fire. From time to time, he kissed the top of her head or tucked back a curl that had fallen across her face. After ten or fifteen minutes, her breathing slowed, and to his relief, she fell asleep in his arms. As Darcy watched her, he noticed how her face seemed much more peaceful in repose. When he tightened his arms around her slightly, she unconsciously snuggled closer to him. His feelings were a mixture of protectiveness and desire. He sat like that for almost half an hour, simply holding her as he watched the fire burn down.

When he was certain she was sleeping deeply, he carried her to her bed. Laying her down gently, he was unsure of what to do next. At first, he thought about calling for her maid to help her finish undressing, but then she would surely wake. She was wearing just her nightdress, dressing gown, and slippers so he reasoned he could take care of those himself. When he pulled off her slippers, he became fascinated with her feet. They were so small and perfect, delicate but strong. Darcy could feel his pulse in his ears.

As he was pulling the blanket out from underneath her in order to cover her up, her dressing gown and nightdress edged up showing the pale white skin of her ankle and calf. His breath caught. Despite feeling a little guilty, he admired the perfection of her leg—slender and feminine yet strong from all the walking she did. Darcy sighed audibly.

Finally, he was able to pull the blanket over her. He found himself wishing he didn’t have to leave her, but he could hardly crawl into the bed beside her. She might wake up and be startled to find him there. It might erase all the progress he seemed to be making. Instead, he found a comfortable chair and footstool, pulled them over next to the bed and settled down to keep watch in case she woke in the night and needed something.

Twenty

After the funeral, life settled into a routine for Elizabeth. Each morning, she had breakfast with Mr. Bingley, his sisters, Mr. Hurst, and Mr. Darcy. Then she either walked or took the carriage to Longbourn depending on the weather. Frequently, Darcy walked with her and over time, she began to grow accustomed to his continual presence. Sometimes while walking, he would hold her hand, and she found, much to her surprise, that she rather enjoyed the security she felt in his care.

One afternoon after her daily visit to Longbourn, Elizabeth was returning to Netherfield on her own after sending Darcy back early in order to attend to his correspondence. As she approached the house, she was surprised to see a carriage with what she thought might be Lady Catherine’s crest heading up the long drive to Netherfield. Watching to see if it was really Darcy’s aunt who emerged, she speculated what might be the purpose of her visit. From a letter Charlotte sent, she had learned Lady Catherine was most aggravated with her nephew’s marriage. It must have been quite a blow to her plans when she learned that Darcy had married someone other than her daughter—especially someone like Elizabeth. She could be coming to congratulate them or more likely show her displeasure. Either way, the new Mrs. Darcy felt it was an honor she could do without today, so she lingered outside awhile, enjoying the afternoon. Then she began to feel guilty for trying to avoid Lady Catherine and decided she to go in and face her new aunt. It would have to happen sooner or later. It might as well be now.

Upon entering, she could hear raised voices coming from Mr. Bingley’s study—one was a shrill female voice and the other she recognized as Darcy’s. At exactly that moment, Caroline Bingley drifted out of the main drawing room with a sour look on her face.

“Mr. Darcy is in the study with Lady Catherine, and Miss de Bourgh is in the drawing room. I would appreciate it if you would go entertain her, as she is your relation after all. I have other more important matters to see to.”

With that Caroline floated away, leaving Elizabeth standing in the front hall alone. Unsure what to do, Elizabeth decided to act as if nothing was amiss and go greet Miss de Bourgh. After all, they did have a previous acquaintance from Elizabeth’s stay in Kent just a few months ago. She and Anne had never exactly had a conversation, but Elizabeth felt confident she would be able to find something they could discuss to pass the time. Her only concern was how Anne would receive her under these awkward circumstances. When she entered the drawing room, she found her new cousin standing at one of the windows looking out over the grounds.

“Welcome to Netherfield, Miss de Bourgh. I did not know you were planning to call or I would have been here to receive you.”

Although Anne seemed a little embarrassed, her good manners took over as she attempted a smile that showed more warmth than Elizabeth had ever seen her exhibit before. “It is very nice to see you again, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Are you enjoying our scenery here in Hertfordshire?” Elizabeth inquired.

“I am finding Hertfordshire very lovely indeed. I am so rarely away from Kent, or from Rosings for that matter, that every place I go is an exciting experience for me.”

Elizabeth smiled and joined her at the window. Together they looked out at the sun-drenched gardens ablaze with flowers of all colors.

“I understand the home you grew up in is not very far from here,” said Anne.

“Yes, I walk over frequently to help my mother and sisters. They are currently engaged in packing up to move into their new home in Meryton. As you are no doubt aware, Mr. Collins will be taking over Longbourn very soon.”

Anne turned and put a hand on Elizabeth’s arm catching her completely off guard. “I was so very sorry to hear about your father. I know what it is like to lose a parent, and it is never easy to bear. I was only a little girl when I lost my father, but I still miss him.” Anne’s sincerity touched Elizabeth deeply. “When my father was alive, he used to take me around the Park in his curricle. Sometimes, when he thought Mother would not know, he allowed me to drive,” said Anne almost smiling.

“So you enjoyed that?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh, yes, very much.”

Elizabeth thought for the first time that with a change in Anne’s hair and a little more color in her cheeks she could be an attractive young woman rather than the pale shadow she always appeared.

“My father’s first love was reading. He allowed me to read almost anything I wished—over my mother’s objections,” said Elizabeth. “Nearly everything I know about literature, history, and philosophy I learned with my father’s help and encouragement. When I was younger, my mother used to despair that I would rather have a new book than a new dress.”

“And did you inherit your love of observing people from your father?” she asked taking Elizabeth by surprise.

“Did
you
?” responded Elizabeth without thinking, and then she wondered if she had overstepped the bounds of propriety with her cousin. Instead, Anne startled her by laughing out loud.

“I must apologize for being so…” Elizabeth began.

“So what? So honest?” asked Anne still smiling. “Your honesty and outspokenness are what I noticed about you when you were in Kent. Oh, yes, I observed you most carefully when you verbally fenced with my mother. Believe me, when I say that most people do not speak to her so boldly. I only wish I could be as brave.”