“You know how he dislikes disputes. I do not believe he knows how to resolve it—and before you enquire, no, I did not advise him on the matter.”
She grinned at him. “In this instance, a little advice might have been forgiven.”
“Oh, no! It is for him to take his wife in hand, not me, and so I told him.”
Some part of that amused her, for she raised a satirical eyebrow. “And what said he to that?”
“He was absurdly affronted and asked if that is how I treat you.”
“And how did you answer?”
“I laughed. I could no more control you than I could control the weather.”
She gasped in mock outrage and lunged forward to poke him in the ribs. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her with him to recline into the cushions at his end of the sofa. “I am sorry for Bingley,” he continued as he laced his fingers with hers. “It is not in his nature to expostulate, yet he will have to address her conduct, for it will injure his respectability if she continues thus.”
“And hers,” Elizabeth replied quietly. Her melancholy did not last, though, and with a deep breath, she pushed herself upright and twisted to look down at him. “I hope you invited Mr Bingley to join us at the theatre tomorrow.”
“I did not.” He reached to toy with a few curls of her hair that had come loose. “I wished to have you to myself.”
“Well, you cannot have me to yourself. I have asked my aunt and uncle to join us now, so you may as well invite him.”
Darcy fixed her with a look, resisting the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth, lest it stretch so wide it made him appear ridiculous. “You see? Utterly uncontrollable.”
She knocked his hand playfully out of the way and bent forward to push herself to standing—then promptly let out a small cry and sat back down again heavily.
Darcy sat up. “What is it?” His heart leapt into his mouth to see her hand on her stomach. “Is it the child?”
“Yes, I—oh!” she gasped again. Far from looking distressed, however, her countenance was a picture of wonderment. She raised her eyes to his. “I felt it!”
There truly was no end to this woman’s assault on his sensibilities. His heart returned to its rightful place with a thud and promptly swelled to overfill the cavity with elation.
“Oh my,” she said softly. “I have been so anxious something must be wrong, but ’tis really true!”
He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss it. “I have been convinced of that far longer than you. Might we announce it now?”
So amenable to this suggestion was she that nothing would do but to set about writing to their families that instant. Darcy submitted to her urgency with perfect complacency, overjoyed both to be finally at liberty to declare his news to the world and to perceive her delight, which trepidation had for so long kept at bay. His beloved Elizabeth would be mother to his child, and nothing and no one had ever been so precious to him.
Pevensey Hall
13thOctober
Jane,
I am gravely vexed. Your sister has somehow managed to inveigle her way into the affections of my husband’s aunt and poison her against me. I am threatened with action if I speak out. So be it! Let them all suffer in ignorance and be disgraced in the end. You and I shall know better! I never wondered at your disliking her. Now I applaud you for it.
In respect to the other matter of which you wrote in your last letter, you must spare it not another moment’s thought. You are far from alone in suffering such a disappointment. It is a universally accepted fact of married life. It is also a universally guarded fact, never spoken about in polite circles. Keep your counsel in this matter, allow B to do likewise, and in the fullness of time, when your house is filled with your children (an eventuality I personally would delay as long as possible), such disappointments will no longer be of any significance to anybody.
Be sure to write again with news of your sister’s next calamity that we may laugh together at our being entirely removed from her ruin and disgrace.
Yours &c.,
Lady Ashby
Wednesday 14 October 1812, London
Elizabeth had not comprehended quite how tiresome her time inKent had been until she left. Eight-and-forty hours later her spirits had risen to more than their usual liveliness, and she was vastly anticipating her evening at the theatre. Indeed, such was her good will towards Darcy that she rather rued overruling his wish to come alone, but on that, she thought it better to remain silent.
There was a small stir as their party entered the theatre lobby—Darcy’s prominence and her novelty still sufficient to generate some attention—but she paid it little mind. It was uncommonly busy for the time of year, and she was assured something or somebody more interesting would soon upstage them. Indeed, there was such a crush that before they reached the stairs, somebody tripped into their path, almost barrelling directly into Elizabeth. Darcy pulled her to one side, though the fellow still caught her arm with his shoulder, spinning her backwards slightly. He turned with an apology on his lips, whereupon all three froze and a painfully awkward moment ensued.
