Mr. Darcy's Proposal (24 page)

“May I do that?” he offered.

Elizabeth looked up.

“You look as if your neck and shoulders are tired. May I assist you?”

She examined his face for a moment until she finally seemed to comprehend what he was asking. He wondered if she remembered that evening at Netherfield, too. “Thank you. That would be very nice,” she said with a warm smile that made his heart soar.

Darcy gave his attention to stroking the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders as she took up the book and began reading again. Several times, she paused and closed her eyes for a moment before continuing.

“Is this relieving your discomfort?” he asked.

“It feels lovely, but it is beginning to distract me from reading this essay.”

Darcy was confused. “Does that mean I should stop or continue?”

Elizabeth reached up and put her hand on his. She squeezed it lightly and said, “Definitely continue although you may have to put up with my missing a word now and then.”

A flush of pleasure come over him. Apparently, she was enjoying his attentions. She finished the essay, put a marker between the pages, and closed the book. They sat awkwardly for a few moments.

“I hope you are happy here at Pemberley and are finding everything to your liking,” he said when he finally found his voice. The second he said it he knew it sounded trite, but he simply could not think of anything more scintillating to fill the silence. Although he had never been good at conversing with people, trying to talk to Elizabeth frequently made him feel even more awkward and tongue-tied than usual.

“Of course, I am pleased. I would have to say that I am a little overwhelmed, but I am trying my best,” she replied.

“What I really meant was are you happy here?”

Elizabeth bit her lip thoughtfully, a gesture that always made him want to kiss her. “I am reasonably content.”

He was not sure what he had been expecting her to say, but this non-committal response was a disappointment. “I see. I was hoping for a little more than that by now,” he said quietly.

“I think ‘reasonably content’ is quite a lot at this point.”

He could think of no response.

“With your permission, I shall excuse myself and go to my room now.” She rose to leave.

He stood too and caught her hand in his as she started to walk away. On impulse, he raised her hand to his lips. Reluctant to break the connection with her, he kissed it again. The soft scent of her perfume was intoxicating. When he turned her hand over and gently touched his lips to the inside of her wrist, he heard her breath catch. The next thing he knew, she had pulled away gently and was making her way toward the door.

Thirty One

One cloudy afternoon when it was too wet to go out, Elizabeth decided it was time to unpack the boxes of books she had brought with her from Longbourn. Most of the books had sentimental meaning for her as nearly all had either belonged to her father or were gifts from him. Margaret had offered to help, but she shooed the young woman away and began the task herself. Just touching the books somehow created a link with her father.

Books went into two piles—those to keep in her own rooms and those to be placed in Pemberley’s library. Her few meager titles would not add much to that grand collection, but for some reason, the idea of joining her father’s books to the Darcy family library appealed to her. It would be as close as her father would come to visiting the room that would have been like heaven itself to him.

Elizabeth picked up the copy of Shakespeare’s “Much Ado About Nothing,” which had been a gift from her father a few days before his death. She had read most of it to him during the last days of his illness. The time they had spent together was now so precious to her. She remembered he had been most adamant that she keep this book once they had finished it. After admiring the leather cover, she opened it and inside found a letter written in her father’s hand. On the outside it said,
“To my Elizabeth—to be opened in the event of my death
.
”
With shaking hands, she tore open the seal and unfolded the letter.

My Dearest Elizabeth,

As I am writing this, I can feel that my time is coming to an end. I will be glad to be relieved of the pain this illness has brought to my body, but I am also sad beyond measure that I will not live to hold your children—my grandchildren—on my lap and tell them stories as I used to do with you. I can see it in my mind’s eye—my arms around a miniature version of you, my love, dark curls tickling my chin and sparkling eyes begging me for just one more story before bedtime.

I have some regrets from this lifetime, as I suppose most men do. I should have been more firm with your sisters when they were growing up. Perhaps they would not have turned out to be such silly girls. I should have planned better for the security of my family. I continued to hope for many years that I would have a son who would inherit Longbourn and provide all of you with the safety you deserve. Instead, I am forced to leave all of you in the protection of Mr. Darcy.

I know that he is not the kind of man you had intended to marry. You always had such romantic ideas of marrying for love, and more than anything I wanted this for you. Instead, for the love of your family, you have accepted the arrangement of this marriage, and I know it has left you with doubts. As I told you on your wedding day, I believe in my heart that the two of you have a chance to find happiness in your life together. He is a match for your intelligence and wit, and you will help him learn to laugh—at life and at himself.

There are also some things about which I have no regrets. One of those would be the many hours we spent together. You have been the light of my life, dearest daughter.

So, Lizzy, please do not grieve too much or too long for me. Think kindly of your dear Papa from time to time and know that I will be with you in spirit always. Your inner strength is so great that I am confident you will be able to overcome any trials or challenges that life puts in your way. Tell your children about me and teach them to love books and learning as I have taught you.

Your loving Father

By the time Elizabeth finished reading the letter, her eyes were so full of tears she could barely read the words on the page. She refolded the precious letter, kissed the paper, and held it tightly to her breast. All of the grief of missing her father that she had been holding at bay for the last few months came rushing out. She crawled into her bed and cried until she was so exhausted that she fell asleep, but even in sleep she could not escape. Her dreams were filled with heart-wrenching scenes of her father, and she awoke hours later more tired than when she had taken to her bed.

***

Over the next few weeks, Elizabeth continued to have trouble sleeping. After a restless night, she often found it difficult to leave her bed in the morning. The things she had enjoyed about her new home seemed less and less diverting, and she spent more time alone walking. Both Darcy and Georgiana made frequent attempts to cheer her, but their efforts did not meet with much success. She picked at her food and found it too difficult to concentrate on reading. After just a short time, the sleepless nights began taking a toll on her health and humor. Often when she took up her sewing, she would catch herself daydreaming. Without warning she would suddenly realize that she had been staring off into space for five or ten minutes. Then she would reapply herself to her work only to have the same thing happen again.

Although Georgiana repeatedly coaxed her to join in at the pianoforte, Elizabeth had no heart to play. One morning after listening to Georgiana practice for a while, Elizabeth excused herself to go sit in the garden. Her mind kept drifting back to her family. She wondered what her beloved Jane was doing at that moment, but when she started to write a letter, she could not think of anything to say that would not sound melancholy and cause her sister to worry. How could she tell Jane that she desperately missed her, that she was sad beyond belief at the loss of their father, and that her life here at Pemberley was more lonely and difficult than she had ever imagined it would be? As those thoughts swirled around in her mind, she sat watching the bees flying from flower to flower until Margaret came to find her to tell her that Mr. Darcy had returned and was expecting to see her shortly for tea.

Thirty Two

After a few weeks, Elizabeth began to feel a little bit more like her old self. Then something happened that deeply shook Elizabeth’s confidence and good humor. One afternoon as she walked by the main drawing room, she glanced in and noticed that one of the chairs was not in its place. Just the day before, she had spent hours with several of the maids and footmen supervising a thorough cleaning of the room. Then she had directed them to rearrange the furniture more to her taste. When she investigated, she realized that not only had one chair been moved but also all the furniture had been returned to its original location.

With some agitation, Elizabeth set off to find Mrs. Reynolds to see if she could shed any light what had happened to undo all her work from the previous day. When she arrived at Mrs. Reynolds’s workroom, she found the housekeeper going over some bills and paperwork. The older woman looked up and after seeing who had entered, she stood immediately.

“Mrs. Darcy, what brings you here?”

“I wished to speak to you.”

“If you had asked someone to let me know, I would gladly have come to you.”

“Thank you, I may do that in the future, but I wanted to speak to you immediately, and frankly, it did not occur to me to send someone for you when I could come myself.”

Mrs. Reynolds looked down at her papers and then back at Elizabeth. “What may I do for you, mistress?”

“I just walked by the main drawing room and discovered that the furniture has been moved back to the way it was before I changed it just yesterday. I am wondering what happened?”

“Yes, well,” she said, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “Mr. Darcy asked me to do that.”

Elizabeth was embarrassed that Mrs. Reynolds had discovered she knew nothing of Mr. Darcy’s orders, but it was too late to save face now. “And did Mr. Darcy give a reason for this?”

“He just asked me to see that it was moved back.”

“Did Mr. Darcy know that the change was my doing?”

“I assume he did, but he did not ask. If I may be so bold as to venture a guess, perhaps he is simply accustomed to having it a certain way. The furniture has been in the same place in that room ever since his mother Lady Anne was alive.”

“Yes, you told me change does not happen here quickly. Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds,” said Elizabeth shortly and turning on her heel, she started off in the direction Darcy’s study.

Whatever had possessed Darcy, she wondered. Several times he had told her to make any changes she wished both in the house and in the management of the household staff. They had discussed this again when he had objected to her choice of Margaret as her maid. She thought she had made her opinions clear.

Now he had countermanded her orders without even mentioning it to her. How must it look to Mrs. Reynolds and the rest of the servants? Surely, they would all be talking about it. Her face grew red with embarrassment. When she went to his study to confront him, she remembered he had gone out for the day and was not expected back until tea. She would have preferred to discuss it while it was still fresh in her mind, but it would just have to wait. Since her agitation at these events was so great, she could not imagine being able to concentrate on any of the work she had planned for the afternoon. Impulsively, she decided to go out for a walk instead. She needed time alone to try and make sense of it all.

As she walked away from the house defiantly, she thought about how hard she was trying to fit in here at Pemberley and could only feel discouraged. How could she ever establish herself if Darcy continued to countermand her instructions? This was not the first time that something like this had happened. There had been the disagreement about who should be her lady’s maid and a few smaller ones that were of little consequence but together, they added up to more.

Recently, he had not been happy with the way one of the upstairs maids had been dusting in their sitting room so he had mentioned it to Mrs. Reynolds rather than to her. Just a few days ago he had sent a message directly to Cook requesting a change in the breakfast menu. Perhaps since he had been in charge for many years, the staff thought nothing of it, but Elizabeth felt he should have come to her first. It was a bit like the chain of command in the military.

Each time when she mentioned one of the incidents to him, he apologized but brushed it off saying she should not let it bother her. He was, after all, the master of the house and therefore accustomed to making such requests directly. She had tried explaining to him that now this was her role, but apparently he did not understand. Or, possibly, he understood but had no intention of changing.