“I apologise if I have yet to make a good impression on Mr Darcy,” Mrs Lovell said quietly.
“He is only concerned about the house. We are both excessively pleased to have you at Pemberley.” Elizabeth hoped it sounded more convincing to Mrs Lovell than it did to her own ears. In truth, she suspected Darcy was unimpressed with the new housekeeper. Unlike Mrs Lovell, however, she did not think it had the slightest thing to do with the woman herself, but rather the woman she was not. Whomever Mrs Reynolds’s successor had been was doomed to be tarred with her traitorous brush, making it impossible for Darcy to approve of her—or, it would seem, any time his wife spent with her.
Elizabeth smiled as she passed through the service door into the main house. Perhaps Darcy had been right to be wary of dissent amongst the servants, but she had not anticipated that it would come from one who was no longer even in his employment. She was sorely tempted to haul Lady Anne’s portrait from beneath the pile of crates in the Derwent room and hang it somewhere prominent in the hope that her ladyship would exert some of her former authority over the ever-pervading ghost of Mrs Reynolds.
CHAPTERFORTY
THE SOUND OF SILENCE
The journey to Branxcombe Court took three hours, and Darcy relished every second of it. With the building work behind them, his relations not yet upon them, and Elizabeth in his arms, it was like a small holiday in itself.
He could not entirely banish his woes from his mind. According to Jacobs’s latest reckoning, the fault in the ground did, indeed, extend beyond the east wing. If one extrapolated its trajectory, it would pass beneath the morning room, saloon, and music room in the central section of the house, and the kitchen and stillroom in the west wing, putting them in equal danger. It was a dismal prospect that had instilled in him a persistent sense of dread. Their inspection of the servants’ quarters had, thankfully, revealed nothing alarming, which was just as well, for if Darcy was forced to close off any more rooms, then he, Elizabeth, and all the servants would be living together in the dining-parlour by Christmas.
“What is the matter?” Elizabeth asked softly.
“What is always the matter? But let us not speak of that now. I would give you a few days’ respite from thinking about buildings.”
She nestled more snugly against him, and he noticed she did not attempt to deny the respite was necessary.
“Would that I could have taken you abroad on a honeymoon. Or at least to the Lakes. I was cripplingly jealous when you mentioned in Kent that you were going there with your aunt and uncle.”
“And I thought you were quiet because you disapproved.”
“I did. I disapproved of anyone who was not me, taking you anywhere.”
Elizabeth was silent for a moment or two before abruptly rearranging herself with some impressively economical manoeuvres until she was sitting in his lap. Then she slid her arms around his neck, told him she treasured the way he loved her, and kissed him—with thrilling vigour. It was some time before Darcy recalled how near they were to Branxcombe and reluctantly disentangled himself, but it was not before he had made it abundantly clear that he was equally enamoured of the manner in which Elizabeth loved him.
“I shall take you to the Lakes one day.”
“I should like to see them.”
“And I should like the exceptionally long carriage ride to get there.” He enjoyed the look that earnt him. It was only as he helped her down from the carriage in front of his uncle’s house that he comprehended the complete respite Elizabeth had givenhimfrom all his worries, and he knew instantly it had been entirely deliberate. He whispered his thanks in her ear and cherished the knowing smile it induced.
The introduction to Lord and Lady Matlock went well enough. His uncle was his usual contemplative self, and Darcy quietly assured Elizabeth not to be offended if he seemed aloof. This amused her for some reason, though she did not elaborate as to why. Lady Matlock’s diffidence made her equally quiet. Linseagh had not come at all, having been detained in London, but Fitzwilliam and Georgiana welcomed Elizabeth with unaffected delight, more than making up for any perceived reticence from other quarters.
“You are happy, then,” Fitzwilliam said to him in a private moment that afternoon.
Darcy smiled slightly and nodded, but a glance at his beaming cousin cracked his usual reserve, and he could not hold back the bubble of joy that escaped him as a burst of laughter. “I am!”
“’Tis a fine thing to see. I confess there have been times this last year when I have been worried for you.”
“Not as worried as I.”
“And Elizabeth? Is she settling in at Pemberley?”
Darcy winced. “She is doing everything that could be asked of her and more, but Pemberley is in such blasted disarray. She says she is not troubled by it, but she cannot be content.”
“She does not seem particularlydiscontented.”
“Because we are here, away from it all. It just feels so one-sided. I have gained all the pleasure and she has made all the sacrifice.”
“That is not quite true. You sacrificed a large fortune to marry her.”
“So I told myself once upon a time, but there was no guarantee I would have found a woman of good fortune who would have me.”
“I shall have to respectfully disagree with you on that point.”
“You cannot deny it would be even less likely now, for who would volunteer their inheritance that I might literally pour it into the ground to keep Pemberley standing? To think—I almost did not marry Elizabeth because my condition in life was superior to hers. Now she is living on a building site.” He shook his head in disgust. “Master of one of the finest houses in the county, and all I have to offer is rooms full of boxes and an abyss in lieu of a garden.”
