Undoing Page 10
What if he became angry? Oh, well! He insisted. She dragged in a deep breath. “When I first made your acquaintance, you hardly spoke and stared in my direction. My husband assured me of your generosity and kind nature, but if I had not his insight, I might have thought you proud and disagreeable. I have since found that you mask your true self behind that stern reserve, keeping strangers at bay.”
His demeanour indicated he was not disturbed, and he gave a slight nod for her to continue.
“Since the dinner at Worth House, I have found you amiable, and a kind and generous brother to Georgiana. You are one of the best of men, Fitzwilliam. I am honoured to call you my friend.”
Did she overstep? Her eyes searched his, taking in the slightest twitch of his lashes and each nuance of his eyes, in order to gauge his feelings. She had so few true friends. He was becoming increasingly important to her current happiness.
Her letters from Jane had been her lifeline when she first wed her husband, but while she still cherished every word her sister put to paper, Elizabeth had begun to rely on the friendship of Georgiana and Fitzwilliam more. After all, they were present and tangible. She could see them before her eyes, touch them—even if only to lay a hand upon his arm—and speak to them.
“I am pleased you have come to regard me as such,” he said warmly. “I have grown to think of you with the utmost respect since our introduction. I hope we can continue to forge a strong friendship. We are now related after all.” His lips quirked to one side, and she was amused by his subtle tease at the end of his statement.
“Fitzwilliam! Is she not the most precious little girl!” Georgiana ran towards them, pointing back to Hazel. The puppy trailed after her owner as he departed. Meanwhile, Georgiana’s bright eyes glowed from her pink cheeks and she wore the biggest grin Elizabeth had ever seen upon the girl—despite the muddy paw prints on the fine muslin of her gown. Elizabeth pressed her lips together. How many times had she returned home splattered in mud?
Fitzwilliam’s expression was inscrutable. “Hazel is an adorable puppy, but I am certain your maid will not be pleased to scrub the mess she has left upon your gown.”
With a slight brush to her bodice, Georgiana shrugged. “Brooks will not mind. She dearly loves puppies as well.”
Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. “My maid may have some idea how to remove the mud should yours have any difficulty.”
Georgiana’s hands clasped before her while she glanced back and forth between her brother and Elizabeth. “So, what have you been discussing? You appeared so serious while you walked along the water.”
“We were merely discussing Lizzy’s trip to Pemberley this summer,” said Fitzwilliam. “Her aunt has generously provided a list of places to see as well as friends to meet, and I have vowed to be of aid, to ensure she sees it all.”
With her hands still pressed together, Georgiana bounced on her toes. “I wish to help. I cannot wait to show you my home.”
Elizabeth looked between the brother and sister. “I anticipate viewing Pemberley through your eyes.” Her gaze locked onto Fitzwilliam’s and held. Her face became unbearably hot and breathing was a chore, yet she somehow managed to break eye contact and took Georgiana’s arm, pulling her ahead of Fitzwilliam. She peeked over her shoulder in his direction as she passed, but his attention was occupied by the sheep on the opposite side of the lake. At least she was the only one who suffered from whatever this was. Fitzwilliam appeared unaffected. The question was how to make it stop?
Chapter 6
June 28th 1809
Pemberley
Derbyshire
Dearest Lizzy,
I can scarcely believe that in less than a week’s time you will be at Pemberley! Fitzwilliam and I have planned outings almost daily to show you all Pemberley has to offer. Do not fret! We have included your aunt’s list, and Fitzwilliam has even taken the liberty of messaging your aunt’s friends so you might make their acquaintance. We have considered everything, have we not?
I could tell you of the happenings here, and what is new, but I shall save that for your arrival. We can have chocolate and biscuits while we chat late into the night as we did at Worthstone. I believe we would have matters to discuss even should I write of what has occupied my time, but it will be ever so much fun this way!
Lastly, I know Uncle Thomas has claimed it unnecessary, but I must thank you both again for my little Evie. You should see how she has grown! She is not so little anymore, yet she is still the most adorable bundle of kisses and fur. The trainer who handles my father’s dogs has helped me teach her a few tricks, and she is doing so well inside the house. I, however, am not certain the footmen are as pleased with her since they are required to walk her when I cannot. I am eager to show you her accomplishments when you arrive. I am certain Uncle Thomas will be impressed by her progress.
Please hurry to Pemberley, Lizzy. We eagerly await your arrival.
Yours very affectionately,
Georgiana Darcy
I hope you do not mind, but Fitzwilliam requested I enclose a letter. He has taken it upon himself to ensure you are well-entertained for the duration of your stay.
Elizabeth placed Georgiana’s letter to one side, beaming in pleasure at her friend’s excitement. Her anticipation of their journey had only grown since Georgiana departed Worthstone almost a month prior.
The carriage shifted, and she placed a hand to the seat beside her to steady herself. Her husband watched out of the window but appeared unconcerned, so she turned her attention back to her correspondence.
Fitzwilliam’s steady yet bold handwriting stared up at her from the letter, commanding her attention. She traced a finger upon the neat script flowing across the expensive paper. The seal broke easily, and she unfolded the missive.
June 28th 1809
Pemberley
Derbyshire
My dear friend,
Pemberley is ready and awaiting your arrival. I cannot imagine Mrs. Reynolds or Georgiana have missed one detail in preparation for your stay, yet they meet daily to pore over menus and rooms. It is good practice for Georgiana, and I must tell you how I appreciate you beginning her household education while we visited Worthstone. Having her accompany you for your day-to-day meetings with your housekeeper was a splendid idea, and Mrs. Reynolds has commented on how much my sister has learned. My father has been impressed with her new-found knowledge as well.
In regards to your aunt’s list, Father and I have issued invitations to her friends for a dinner party to be held at Pemberley a week after your arrival. If you are not aware, the Leveson and Sutton families are rather prominent in the area, and Mr. Rowley is the vicar at Lambton.
Around mid-July, the Bingleys will pass a week at Pemberley as they journey from their aunt’s home in Wales to Scarborough. You will at long last meet the infamous Miss Bingley, though, in all honesty, I do wish she was not a member of the party. Please do not reveal my secret for while my father and sister may guess, you are the only person to whom I have made that egregious confession.
If you were not told enough in Georgiana’s letter, we anticipate your arrival. It has been many years since we have planned for a month such as this, and I believe even my father is eager for the diversion.
With warmest regards,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
“Is that correspondence from Fitzwilliam?”
She tore her eyes away from the closing to her husband’s inquisitive look. “It is. He wished to inform me of the plans he had made with my aunt’s friends. The Darcys have planned a dinner party so I might make the acquaintance of the Levesons, the Suttons, and Mr. Rowley.”
With haste, she folded the missive and held it with Georgiana’s. “I hope you do not mind him penning me a letter. We are nothing more than friends.”
A corner of his lips lifted as he observed her with a keen eye. “I have no objections at all. I was only unaware of its existence.” He placed a marker in the book he had been reading, and res
ted the volume in his lap. “The friendship you have forged with Fitzwilliam and Georgiana has brought me great delight. I am quite pleased at your willingness to accept my family as your own. I hope you will correspond with both of them often.”
Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows. “How could I do otherwise? Georgiana is lovely and kind. She is intelligent, well-read, and a charming companion. Fitzwilliam, when he chooses, is amiable. He is considerate and thoughtful. I do think him to be one of the best of men, as I am certain is his father. I enjoy their company, and as I have not had the pleasure of seeing my family, I suppose I grasped upon their presence.”
She was well aware that her voice had become hard. Her marriage had taken her from all she had known, and when she requested for merely a visit from Jane, her husband always denied her with some excuse: time was never sufficient, he hoped Georgiana would stay during that particular month, they were to spend those weeks at Pemberley. An excuse was never lacking, and she chaffed at his restriction.
Normally an independent person, Elizabeth had always had her family when she craved discourse or simply the presence of another. When they had no company at Worthstone, she had only herself. Holding a conversation with oneself rarely answered any of her own questions.
His jaw tightened, and she blanched. He had never lost his temper, yet she had not challenged him so in the past. Cruelty had never been a trait she would have ascribed to him, so she hoped she had no reason for concern. He could be responsible, aloof, haughty, but never cruel.
“You have not been without your family for so long, have you?” he said in an even tone.
Regardless of his apparent ire, her courage did not falter. “We were wed in November. It is now July—nearly eight months. You have not gone so long without spending time with your relations, yet you deny me mine. You promised . . .”
“I am well aware of my pledge, Elizabeth, but we have not had sufficient time to plan your sister’s stay and have not travelled near Meryton since our return from London.”
“Jane has no expectations of grand balls, parties, or stately rooms.” Her voice was raised as she sat forward and pressed her case. “She would be well pleased to spend the day with me and would be of no bother to the servants.”
With a sigh, he peered out at the passing scenery before returning his attention to her. “Would you object to hosting her for a fortnight during the season? We could break our journey at Stoke, so she could accompany us to London.”
A fortnight? She had hosted his family for a fortnight, Georgiana for the month after, and they were to spend a month complete at Pemberley. A fortnight? However brief the visit, she could not refuse the offer. She longed to see her dearest sister.
“That would be agreeable, thank you.”
“In the future, Elizabeth, please do not withhold your frustration as you have since we wed. You spoke freely with me when we were first acquainted and while we were betrothed. I would wish for that to continue, no matter the subject.”
She nodded and looked down at the letters in her hands.
Her husband tilted his head while he watched her. “Is there something else?”
“Nothing of import.” Her voice was light, lighter than her mood had been for some time.
“I would appreciate your honesty. I am your husband. I believe I deserve it.”
Her fingers fidgeted with the corner of Georgiana’s missive. “Is this to be the nature of our marriage?”
His eyebrows furrowed, and he stiffened. “I do not understand your meaning.”
She inhaled a deep fortifying breath and exhaled in an attempt to steel herself. “Is this to be what our marriage is. You have your life, I have mine, and the two only cross for social gatherings.”
“It is how most in our sphere live,” he said. “Did you believe there would be more?”
“My mother indicated there would be more.” Her face was aflame. How could she broach such a subject?
“Aah, I had not considered that she would prepare you so.” He shifted in his spot and placed his book beside him on the seat, his hand clenching around the spine until his knuckles turned bright white. “As I said the night of our wedding, I am unable to perform in the manner required. I apologise if our marriage is less than what you expected, but I can do naught about the problem.”
Her gaze left the letter in her hands and returned to him. “You do not require an heir?”
“I do, but it is irrelevant since it cannot come to pass. When the time comes, Fitzwilliam will inherit the bulk of my estate, and you will have your settlement and be well-prepared for the future. James will inherit the dukedom and the property that accompanies it and he will be the ruin of the Leeds legacy.”
“Then why did you take me for a wife?” Her question was indelicate and impertinent but needed to be asked.
“I had hoped . . .” he said, but shook his head. “I soon found the matter hopeless.”
“You asked for my hand when you were not certain you could be a husband?”
He sighed. “No, I knew, but I had hoped . . .”
“You had hopes?” Her heart became heavy and sank into her stomach. She had tied her life to a man who had no intention of even playing the husband and could not provide her with a child. What little happiness she had anticipated in her marriage would be denied her, and her mother—her mother would never cease tormenting her about the lack of an heir. What had she done?
The correspondence she treasured a mere moment ago dropped to the floor of the carriage, and she covered her mouth in an attempt to hold back a sob. Tears welled in her eyes, and one large droplet fell to her skirts creating a large blotch on her gold redingote.
“Should you wish to take a lover, I would not object, but I would beg you be discreet about the matter.”
Wait! What? She gasped in a heaving breath that quashed any melancholy remaining within her. “Pardon me, but did you just give me permission to be unfaithful?”
His expression remained flat, similar to that of the inscrutable mask Fitzwilliam often employed. “Yes, I gave you leave to do as you wish. As I said, I would prefer you remain discreet. I would also appreciate a certain discernment in your selection. Should you become with child, I prefer my heir to be more than the by-blow of a footman or a gardener.”
An incredulous noise escaped her lips. “How kind of you?” Her voice was laced with sarcasm, but she cared not whether his delicate sensibilities were offended—especially when he had offended hers in such a harsh manner.
“Elizabeth, I am requesting you perform the simple task of being responsible . . .”
“Responsible? You have the audacity of lecturing me on how to be . . .?” Her finger pointed towards his chest while hot tears poured down her face. “When you asked for my hand, you pressed that I could be the means of saving my family upon my father’s death. You made me responsible for their wellbeing, and I have taken on all of the obligations of a duchess for you in return. All I asked—nay, hoped, was that I might one day have a child to love.” Her finger stabbed at his chest. “You deceived me, sir. By neglecting to tell me of your affliction, you told me an atrocious lie.”
He exhaled a measured breath, picked up her letters, and placed them upon the seat beside her. “You could have awaited a man who would love you, but that would not have guaranteed you children. Regardless of who you wed, God may not have chosen to bless you.”
“Yet, if my husband loved me, he would not have omitted the information you intentionally withheld.”
He leaned against the squabs and gave the bottom of his topcoat a tug. “I made no claim of loving you, Elizabeth. I only said that I thought we could be good friends.”
“A friend would not have treated me as you have.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You have greatly misjudged my character if you believe I would take a lover,” she spat. “I would never dishonour myself or my family—the Bennet family—by inviting such censure.”
His shoulders gave a small li
ft as he gave a brief bark. “George, indeed, had the right of it.”
The words were muttered under his breath, but Elizabeth managed to distinguish them. “George? Do you mean Mr. Darcy?”
He closed his eyes. Obviously, he had not intended for her to overhear. “I may have spoken with my cousin after Lord and Lady Vranes’s ball.”
“And upon a trifling acquaintance, he could discern what you could not. I must give him credit. I love him all the more for it as well.”
He reached forward and placed his hand over hers. “I know the words must seem empty, but I do apologise for the misunderstanding.”
She turned her glare upon his act of contrition, and he withdrew.
“I do hope one day you will forgive me, yet in the meantime, we must appear as though nothing is amiss. I abhor gossip. I do not want our discord to be the fodder of London drawing rooms.”
“You have nothing to concern yourself with on that score. I wish for my humiliation to be made public as much as you wish for your infirmity to be bandied about over brandy and cigars. I shall compose myself accordingly. I shall do my part.”
“Your discretion is appreciated, though I do hope you reconsider taking a lover. I would not begrudge you any happiness you might find.”
Her fingers clenched upon the fabric of her redingote, wrinkling it. Lalande would be required to spend a considerable amount of time to press the area smooth. “I beg you never to mention such a notion to me again.”
His shoulders dropped, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Very well. I had no intention of offending you. Whether you believe me or not, your happiness is of great importance to me.”
“If that be so, then you should have left me behind in Meryton. I never aspired to be a duchess and would have been content to remain the daughter of a country squire.”
“It was that disposition that made you so appealing.” He propped an arm by the window and watched the countryside as it passed. “You did not simper and attempt to gain my favour with flattering nonsense. Instead, you were yourself—you were honest.”